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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years

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The Parting Chapter Seven

Description: The only certainty in life is death, and it seems to follow Park Jimin. All his life, the icy shadow of death has hung closely by his side, along with the shadow of…something else. Reapers exist to guide the souls of the living to the world beyond. But what happens when a particular Reaper tampers with the natural order and saves a mortal boy’s life? What will they do once their fates become inextricably linked?

Genre: Supernatural, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jimin x (f) OC

Word Count: 8.8k

Tags: Flower Shop Owner!Jimin, Reaper!OC, Non-Idol!AU, Cop!Yoongi, Supernatural!AU

Warnings: Death, swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: HI BABES! How are you all doing? I hope you’re doing well and if you’ve started school already, then I hope you’re not feeling too stressed. I’m still working on all the requests I have, but don’t worry! If you’ve requested something, then I will get through it within the next week or so. I’m sorry for the delay! I just have to juggle a bit between writing this fic and writing requests. As always, I will respond to all asks received within a day of receiving them, so feel free and feel comfortable sending me anything! And please send feedback, criticism, comments or concerns my way so I can address them.

AHH! And please follow @actualsoonshine! She’s such a lovely person, and my IRL friend and she just started her writing blog! If you like Seventeen and BTS, you will LOVE her!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Chapter One

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Jimin sat up gently and turned to me, brows furrowed. “Nari, are you alright?”

I sobbed as I looked at him. I could tell from the innocent, fretful expression on his face. He didn’t remember. I felt inside me something altogether new. A nameless frustration that manifested in tears. I never knew I’d become so hungry for answers. I never knew that having those answers appear before me and then suddenly disappear in one fell swoop would be so incredibly infuriating. I wiped my eyes and shook my head as Jimin propped himself upright, eyes scanning me worriedly.

“You don’t remember anything?” I asked, desperation sitting heavy like fog in the air.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I sleep walk a little and I don’t remember it in the morning,” he said, voice low as he scooted closer to me on his knees, placing his hands on my wet cheeks. “Nari…”

I sniffled, eyes cast on the linoleum. “It wasn’t that,” I said.

He gently guided my face closer to his so I would look at him properly. “What are you talking about? You’re starting to scare me a little.”

I felt more tears brewing in my chest, but became powerless to stop them as I looked at his pure expression. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t withholding information from me. He simply…didn’t remember. Just like that.

“I had a dream,” I said quietly. “A really strange dream.”

He nodded. “Did you remember something? Is that why you’re crying?” he asked.

I shook my head and shooed his hands off my burning skin. “Forget it,” I said, standing shakily to my feet. “Just…go to bed.” I began towards my room but stopped short as he grabbed for my wrist, fingers tight.

“Wait! We agreed that we’d start trusting each other more. Talk to me,” he said. He was begging me.

I sniffled once more and considered shaking him off again, considered going back to bed and burying my head in the sheets where I could cry and cry and greet him in the morning as if nothing had happened at all. But he spoke again, and when he did his voice broke.

“Please.”

I turned to look at him. Perhaps subconsciously, he wanted to remember too. Perhaps deep down he knew there was something between us that went deeper than either of us imagined. Perhaps we were both the keys to unlocking it. And perhaps…perhaps if I told him what I’d been dreaming, if I let him in just a little…

Perhaps we could solve it together.

I sighed and settled on the small couch, watching the rug as Jimin joined me. “You said you knew who I was,” I said.

He stiffened beside me. “I…I don’t know why I would say something like that.”

“Me either,” I said, then met his eyes. “But you know it means something, right?”

He blinked rapidly a few times before sighing and grabbing at tufts of his hair. “I don’t know, Nari. Earlier, I was mostly playing around. Do you really think there’s something weird between us?”

I nodded. “More than I can even say,” I said. “I’m certain of it.”

He watched me carefully, reading me. He stared at me long enough for Miso to leave his bedroom and pad over to us. Long enough for me to hear the refrigerator kicking on. Long enough for my tears to nearly stop. And, after an eternity, he nodded and his hand fell from his hair to his lap.

“Okay…assuming that’s the case then…what does any of it mean?” he asked.

I sighed, patting my chest and shutting my puffy eyes. There really was a special sense of relief that came from confiding in someone. “I don’t know. But Jimin…I’ve been having really strange dreams.”

Jimin tilted his head to the side as Miso jumped onto the arm of the couch, peering at us with glowing eyes. “What kind of dreams?”

I shook my head and turned to him properly, grabbing his forearm. “Jimin, do you know what shinbyeong is?”

Jimin cocked his head and pursed his lips. “I…I’ve heard of it. It has something to do with old shamanism. Like…when a shaman was becoming a shaman they say that they’d go through shinbyeong. It’s like…,” he paused and glanced into the middle ground, thinking. “I’m trying to remember what I learned about it from high school, but it’s something about the death of the self. Like, assuming a god as yourself.”

“What?” I asked, shaking my head. “That’s impossible.” I’d have known if the spirits of gods were entering the bodies of humans. And, furthermore, I’d never even heard the term before having those dreams. “What happens during this time?”

He shrugged. “I think…it was kind of like out-of-body experiences? Hallucinations or something?”

I sighed. “It doesn’t help much,” I said. “I’ve been having dreams that I was a poor girl a long time ago. I can’t tell exactly when but I can approximate. There were kings and a royal astronomer.”

“Goryeo?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “The language wasn’t so unfamiliar. It was Joseon.”

“Huh,” he said, then shook his head. “I know this is weird, but do you believe in reincarnation?”

I shook my head. “I do not,” I said, releasing his forearm. That much was true. I did not know where souls went after being Reaped, but I knew they didn’t fly off to another body.

“Maybe you should start,” he commented, then sighed and leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his wild, fluffy hair. “Honestly, it sounds like you’re remembering a past life.”

“That’s impossible, Jimin,” I said, meeting his eyes.

He shrugged. “Why?”

Because I was not human. Because I was a Reaper. Because this was the first time I’d ever been in a human body…

Wasn’t it?

I shook my head. “Jimin, it is impossible.”

I watched him swallow roughly before he glanced away and nodded. “Then…I don’t know, Nari. It’s weird. What else did you dream of?”

“I had a family,” I said. “A younger sister and a mother and a grandmother.”

“No men? In the Joseon era?”

I nodded. “We were in the lowest social class. Cheonmin.”

He raised his brows as Miso hopped agilely off the side of the couch and onto his lap. “Not slaves?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Seems like shamanism ran through the family, although my sister was not affected. My mother did not believe in it,” I said, then coughed slightly. “Or…whoever they were.”

Jimin inhaled sharply. “And…you said I woke up saying I knew who you were?” he asked, his eyes tinged silver in the moonlight.

“Yes,” I said, watching his jaw work, clenching and unclenching.

“I…I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” he said, then huffed, causing Miso to startle and jump across the couch to my lap. “I’m so sorry, Nari.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault, but…,” I began, them glanced at him. His expression was weak, frustrated. “I wonder if perhaps you also had a strange dream.”

His eyes snapped towards mine. “I…I mentioned that I dream about wearing a hanbok a lot, right? Back at the hospital?”

I conjured the memory and, although it was only a week ago it felt like a lifetime. Sitting in the sterile room. Talking of dreams… I nodded. “I remember.”

“I…Nari, I know you don’t believe in this stuff, but whenever I’d have a dream like that my mom would tell me it was just…deja vu. From my past life,” he said, then scoffed. “It sounds so stupid saying it out loud, but with everything you’ve been dreaming of…it’s the only thing I can think of.”

I furrowed my brow. How did I know for certain that reincarnation was impossible? Just because I didn’t see it myself? I was a Reaper after all. I only dealt in death, not what happens after…

I sighed. “So you think…I’m remembering a past life?”

He nodded. “I don’t understand it, but,” he began, grabbing my hand, “maybe since you lost your memory…different memories are returning.” His words came out quiet, careful, like they were meticulously hand-chosen.

I nodded. “It is the most reasonable conclusion for the time being,” I said, then gave his warm, soft hand a squeeze. “If I remember anything else, can I come to you?”

He nodded eagerly and flashed a bright smile. “Of course! Anytime.”

I forced a smile and glanced away. “Thank you.”

He blinked at me and chuckled, a fluttering, nervous sound. He patted the top of my hand and withdrew his own. “Y-You’re welcome,” he said, laughing once more as he rubbed the back of his neck.

I stared at him for a long moment, scanning his soft features, the kiss of blush in his cheeks. I sighed, long and slow, and nodded. “We’ll figure it out together, then.”

I counted the bills in the cash register quietly the next morning, Jimin retrieving new buds from the greenhouse and placing the pots prettily along the countertops. Jin had Wednesdays off, so the two of us worked quietly alone. As I counted the last of the money I tilted my head to the side, furrowing my brow. Jimin’s shop was surprisingly wealthy for such a small place. I glanced at him as he worked, a soft smile on his lips, lashes brushing against his cheeks as he focused on the pots. I smiled too. There was some relief at least in sharing my burdens.

The front door bells tinkled and a patron entered the shop. I was midway through standing straighter to greet them when I saw who it was. “Oh, Jisoo,” I said with a chuckle.

She approached the desk, her hair pulled back with a delicate floral pin on one side. She leaned forward at the waist and rested her hands on the counter, her chin on her hands. She smiled up at me and, coyly, turned her head to the side slightly, revealing the pin. I glanced at her, placing the money into Jimin’s tackle box, and took a proper look at her new accessory. As I did, my eyebrows raised and I smiled.

“Lilies,” I said.

She grinned and leaned away, popping her hip to the side and resting a hand on her pleated skirt. “Pretty right?” she asked.

I nodded. “It suits you,” I said. “But I get the sense that there’s something more to it.”

She laughed and nodded her head eagerly. “It’s a gift,” she said, flipping her tidy hair behind her shoulder. “From that boy.”

My eyes widened. “You don’t say!”

She nodded. “I do say.”

Jimin approached and stood beside me, easily draping an arm over my shoulders. I felt myself flush and glanced away, back towards the register. “Our Jisoo looks so pretty today!” he exclaimed, laughing.

Jisoo rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to take compliments from any other boys from now own,” she said, then smiled at her hands, clasped around the handle of her book bag. “Since I have someone I like now.”

I grinned. “What progress you’ve made!”

She met my eyes and nodded vigorously. “It’s thanks to you! After we talked yesterday, I realized it was better for me to be there for him like he really needed rather than trying to take care of him without him knowing.”

“And?” I encouraged.

She smiled. “And it turns out he knew it was me all along,” she said, bashfully rubbing the back of her neck. She chuckled. “He was just waiting for me to come and talk to him properly. He bought this for me after I got him that bouquet you recommended, Jimin.”

“Ah, the lilies,” I said, nodding.

Jisoo cocked her head to the side and peered up at me. “But you weren’t there, Nari. How would you know?”

I coughed into the crook of my elbow and shook my head. “I just meant the lilies on your hairpin,” I said.

She furrowed her brow and nodded. “Well, anyway we’ve agreed to eat lunch together now.”

“Good for you, Jisoo. I’m glad things worked out so well,” said Jimin, then chuckled softly. I felt it rumble in his chest, just beside my shoulder. My heart thundered. “Although I don’t really know what you’re talking about exactly.”

Jisoo waved her hand. “I’ll fill you in later,” she said. “For now, I’d better get to class. I just wanted to show Nari the pin.”

I couldn’t help the smile that touched my lips. I met her eyes and gently reached across the counter to smooth her hair down, tucking it behind the pin carefully. “It looks beautiful.”

She beamed at me. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be sure to come visit again sometime soon! Maybe I’ll be able to bring him with me this time.”

I nodded. “I’d love to meet him.”

“Me too!” added Jimin, leaning one hand on the counter as Jisoo ran out the door and onto the sidewalk, waving wildly over one shoulder. “She’s cute,” he remarked.

I slipped from beneath his arm and nodded. “She is a good girl.”

Jimin smiled down at me. “You like her don’t you?” he asked.

I glanced away. “Of course not. I’m…fond of her precociousness.” I cleared my throat and ran a hand through my hair.

He flicked the side of my head and shook his own. “You’re allowed to care about people,” he said, then chuckled. “The way I see it, you care a lot more than you realize.”

I stiffened. “How so?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I know you have some information that would’ve put Jungkook in a tougher spot,” he said, turning on his heel as he made his way back towards the greenhouse. He glanced at me over his shoulder and smiled. “But you chose not to share it. I wonder why.”

I blinked at him. “It’s nothing special! Just…,” I began, but by the time I’d composed myself enough to respond, cheeks aflame, he was already walking into the greenhouse, chuckling and waving at me before shutting the door.

I pushed a grocery cart while Jimin piled food items into the basket: breads, meats, packages of ramen and other processed food I didn’t even recognize. We rode through the aisles together, the fuzzy overhead speakers playing a song that was popular ten years ago. Few people were roaming the store in the middle of the day, the aisles sitting pristine before us as we turned down each one. Jimin paused in front of the cereal boxes, causing me to bump his hip with the shopping cart. I backed away and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” I said, glancing toward the cereal. “What’s wrong? We need to get back to the store soon.”

Jimin waved his hand at me. “Say, Nari what do you like? Like…food?” he asked.

I stiffened and pursed my lips. “I…wouldn’t really know.”

He sighed and nodded, still stewing over the cereal. “I wanna take good care of you so you can remember something more.”

My cheeks warmed and I smiled at my hands, clamping them around the cart a little tighter. “I’ll be fine regardless of which cereal you purchase, Jimin.”

He pouted slightly and nodded. “You’re right.” He smiled at me and grabbed a box before jerking his head toward the register.

The employee checked our items and stowed them neatly away, and we made our way out towards the exit. We only made it a few paces before a familiar, joyful voice called after us, “Hey!”

I turned towards the back of the store and noticed an older employee smacking the back of another employee’s head. Dark, untidy hair. Red patterned bandana. I smiled. Jungkook had gotten a job? I decided not to bother him while he worked and instead adjusted my hold on the groceries.

Jimin opened the door and held it for me to walk through, but as he did, he stepped back to walk beside me. Our steps were identical as we walked through the empty aisle. Every swaying step we took caused the backs of our hands to brush just slightly. Neither of us moved slightly to prevent it. Neither of us even looked at the other. But there was a strange shift occurring. I’d noticed it particularly in recent days. Jimin was becoming more and more comfortable touching me. Under normal circumstances, perhaps I’d have found it strange. But maybe I was too enamored. Maybe a part of me believed that if I allowed us to move closer…I could figure something out. Capture something elusive about those odd dreams which had been evading me. After all, it seemed we were intertwined somehow.

Or was I just giving myself an excuse to be greedy?

We walked back to the store, chatting idly, each of us holding two pager bags of groceries.The weather was fine and, for a brief moment, I was grateful to have a body to enjoy it with. I felt my senses were rather acute, like my body was anticipating something. I glanced around, down towards the uneven pavement, up towards the bleached buildings, up towards Jimin’s grinning face. We neared the shop, the greenhouse catching sunlight and sending it off in prisms. My steps slowed and Jimin matched me subtly as something caught my eye on the ground. Glittering in the light, fractals of something sat at awkward angles. I could almost swear it was glass…

As we approached the steps up toward the apartment, I paused. Jimin was still engrossed in his story about a middle school soccer game, but my attention was seized. “Wait,” I said, holding my hand up and resting the groceries on the bottom step of the stairs.

Jimin stopped and stared down at me. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head and walked, tentative, towards the front of the shop. Something was pooling in my stomach and I recognized it at once. I’d felt it the night I’d saved Jimin.

Dread.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I stared at the front of the shop. I’d been right, this fractals on the ground were shards of broken glass still falling onto the ground from the windowsill as the breeze knocked them around. It must have occurred rather recently, as the door stood swinging on its hinges. I took high, careful steps around them to avoid puncturing the toes left exposed by my sandals and held my hand up behind me as Jimin approached too quickly.

“Hold on,” I said, eyes set on the floor. “There’s glass.”

“What?” he asked, and I heard his steps rushing forward despite my warning. “Wait, why-,” he began, then stopped speaking as he noticed the broken window. “Oh my God.”

I nodded and wrapped my palm in my shirt, trying to preserve any residual DNA, twisting the door handle. “I’ll go look around-,”

“Absolutely not,” said Jimin, grabbing my shoulder and wheeling me backwards.

I stared up at him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

He shook his head. “Nari, you could get hurt. What if someone’s still in there?” he asked.

I furrowed my brow and cocked my head. “Then I’ll be able to identify them.”

“Nari,” he said, tone stern and low. My heart raced. “I said you could get hurt.”

I shrugged. “If so, then that’s fine. I’d rather catch the culprit,” I said, then sighed at the damage in front of me. From what I could see in the store, numerous pots had been shoved from the shelves and the cash register had been forcefully pried open. Thank God I’d removed it that morning. “You’ve already been attacked. What will I do if that man isn’t caught?”

He stared down at me with smoldering eyes and a stiff jaw. “Nari, this isn’t something to take lightly. This is damage of property. Someone forced their way into the shop. They might have a weapon.”

I remembered what Yoongi said. If anyone else died, it was on my shoulders. After years of taking lives, why now did the thought of being responsible for someone’s death feel so serious?

I sighed and shook him off. “Jimin, does that matter?” I asked. “What if this is the only chance we get to catch him? To clear Jungkook’s name? To keep you safe?”

He leveled his gaze with mine and set his lips in a straight line. “If you go in there, I won’t forgive you.”

I swallowed hard, catching a hint of that earthy smell he had on the lazy breeze. I glanced away, back towards the ground, and chewed on the inside of my cheek. The day Hyungwon and I had fought, I was certain Jimin would hate me. I was certain that after everything he said, every request of his that I hadn’t heeded, he would surely cast me aside. But he’d forgiven me. Surprisingly easily, at that.

But this time…he wouldn’t. I could see it in his eyes. Normally lustrous and bright, now the endless brown of his eyes seemed dark, troubled, serious. I blinked at him before taking a step back, away from the shop’s front door. I sighed and crossed my arms, shaking his hand off my shoulder, and walked towards the steps beside the shop, sitting down beside the groceries we’d left behind.

Quietly, Jimin approached and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. He typed a number and pressed it against his ear without looking at me. He was silhouetted beautifully against the radiant sun, and normally I’d have admired it for a moment. But I was frustrated. Frustrated with him.

Just like that day with Hyungwon, it felt suffocatingly familiar.

I rested my head against the railing and sat with crossed arms as Jimin began speaking. “Hey. Someone broke into the shop. I don’t know when, but…,” he paused and listened quietly, voice terse. “Yeah. I’m not comfortable having Nari here, so could she maybe…yeah, that’d be good.”

My eyes snapped towards him and I furrowed my brows. He avoided my gaze. “Jimin,” I said, loud enough for the person on the other end to hear.

He cleared his throat. “Alright. We’ll wait here for you…five minutes? Okay.” He hung up the phone and slid it into his back pocket, coming around to sit beside me on the stairs.

I edged away and leaned against the railing once more. “Sending me away?” I asked.

“It’s safer.”

“I sincerely dislike when you decide things like this for me,” I said, staring out at the stone wall separating the street from the cliff face. “It infuriates me.”

He sighed. “It’s because you are totally incapable of making normal decisions,” he said.

I scoffed and angled my body away from his. “I am making perfectly rational decisions,” I said, then shrugged. “Seems you prefer to choose emotionally.”

“Do you just, like…not value your life? Or what?” he asked, clearly getting riled up.

I watched a car zoom past and rolled my eyes, although I wasn’t sure when I’d learned to do that. “Nothing would have happened, and if it did that would have helped your case,” I said. “Now the perpetrator is long gone from here. No chance of catching him now.”

Jimin laughed, but it was bitter. “Alright, so it’s my fault for wanting to keep you safe.”

“Yes,” I said. “What value do I have if not to help you?” I asked, then shook my head. I’d said too much.

He huffed. “That’s insane. If you really think that way, then it makes me very uncomfortable,” he said, staring at me with heavy eyes.

I met his gaze and furrowed my brow. “You have no idea what you are talking about,” I said, surprised at the bite in my own words.

He raised a brow. “I don’t? Then explain it.”

How could I? How could I tell him that the only reason I was human was because of him? “Forget it. Just…ignore me,” I said, settling once more against the railing. “This conversation is meaningless.”

“Do you really like me that much?” he asked, a cruel laugh escaping him. “You hardly know me. Please get a handle on your feelings.”

I felt my throat tighten. I tried to remember a time in the years I’d watched over him when he’d said something so unkind. Nothing came to mind. Did he really think all that? Did he truly want me to collect my emotions and settle them somewhere else? After asking me to trust him, after touching me and smiling at me and making himself dear to me? Was that really fair? I glanced at him and saw his gaze was locked far away.

“If that’s what you want,” I said, nodding. I watched two police vehicles slow to a stop on the side of the road and stood to my feet, walking towards them.

Jimin sighed and I turned to watch him kick a bag of groceries harshly, scattering the contents across the cement. I shook my head and walked to the edge of the sidewalk. Namjoon exited the first car while the second one idled. I stiffened as his penetrating eyes landed on me. Was he perhaps still upset with me? Had he not had enough time to cool down? My heart pounded.

Slowly, he offered a small, dimpled smile which set my nerves at ease slightly. I sighed and retuned the gesture. “Hello,” I said.

He bowed his head. “Hi,” he said, then examined the damage over my shoulder. “God…I’m sorry you’ve been through all of this.”

I shrugged as Jimin stood beside me. “I suppose I’m only involved by proxy,” I said with a dismissive shrug. “I shouldn’t be especially bothered, should I?”

Jimin groaned. “Nari!” he exclaimed beside me.

I met his eyes and shrugged. “It’s true isn’t it? They’re your problems after all,” I said, returning my attention to Namjoon. “What should I do? Jimin’s sending me off somewhere, right?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yoongi is waiting in the other patrol car. Please go with him to the station,” he said, smiling at me.

I sighed and felt my shoulders fall. “I think I would prefer the crime scene,” I mumbled, but as I turned to look at Jimin I found his brows lowered and his gaze sturdy, irritated. I swallowed and bowed my head to him. “I’ll be going then.”

I stepped away towards the second patrol car and opened the door. Yoongi stared straight ahead, not so much as making eye contact with me. I settled beside him and latched my seatbelt. “Are you not assisting Namjoon in this investigation?”

Yoongi bristled and his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “He thought it would be better to keep me and Jimin apart for a little while.”

I chuckled as he started the engine. “I suppose that’s best.”

“And you?” he asked with a smirk and a sly glance my way. “You’re being exiled too.”

I stiffened and leaned back in the seat, watching the road before us as it stretched along the cliffside. “Just drive.”

Yoongi had a surprisingly gentle expression while he worked. I sat opposite him at his unruly desk, reclining against the stiff chair he’d given me as he shuffled through papers. Occasionally, a sigh would escape him or he’d work a hand over his jaw. Watching him that way mad a thin sliver of guilt course through me. Of course he was rough and caustic, but I wondered if perhaps he had a reason to be. I wondered if I’d been to quick to write him off. Perhaps, just like Jungkook who looked rather harsh, he was soft inside. Maybe he was like Hyungwon: scaly exterior revealing an innocent heart. I watched him carefully. His eyes stayed steadfast on his papers, scanning then, and now and then his dark hair would slip onto his eyelid and he’d flick it away with a huff and a pout.

Half an hour passed before he spoke.

“Can you stop staring at me?” he asked quietly.

I continued observing his fine motions as he lifted his gaze to meet mine. “What else am I meant to do?”

He sighed and sat upright, folding his arms across his chest. “Why did Jimin send you away?” he asked. “Aren’t you his pet or whatever?”

Indignation rose in my chest and I sat straighter. “I am not,” I said, remembering Jimin’s words. He wanted me to sort out my feelings after all. “I wanted to investigate the shop in case the person responsible was still inside, but he opposed.”

He chuckled. “You sure you’re not his pet?” he asked.

I opened my mouth to retort, but simply sighed and shrugged. I’d grown tired of fighting. “I think I’m worse than a pet,” I said, shaking my head. “Even Miso makes her own choices.”

Yoongi raised a brow. The air between us was different than before, perhaps less acidic. I wondered what could have caused such a shift as he smiled softly and arranged his papers. “Well…for what it’s worth, I think you had the right idea.”

I nodded. “It’s only rational.”

“I agree.”

“And if I got hurt, then at least he would have been caught,” I said. “We gave him every opportunity to get away, and then afforded him extra time for cleanup.”

“It was a critical time period that could have been used to further the investigation,” said Yoongi with a nod as he set the documents aside and laced his fingers, resting his chin atop them as he examined me. “I’m surprised we think alike for once.”

I set my lips thin and glanced away towards the wall beside me. “Perhaps we think alike in more ways than we know,” I said with a shrug.

He chuckled. “You never know.”

“Do you have any hypotheses about who could have done it?” I asked.

He shrugged and leaned back in his cushioned chair. “Well, it’s most likely the same man who stabbed Jimin in the first place. He’s a target now.”

I furrowed my brow. “It seems likely but…,” I began then sighed. “But the reasoning seems strange. You’re watching for him very closely. Why would he make such dangerous moves just for one victim that escaped?”

“Seems like a rookie move,” he said with a nod. “It’s weird.”

“Do you still think it’s Jungkook?” I asked quietly, watching his expression fall slightly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Truth be told…well, what you said the other day kind of messed with me. Am I looking at this case objectively or am I trying to force the pieces to fit my own narrative? For my ego?”

I raised my brows. “You thought about it?”

He scoffed. “Am I an idiot?” he asked, sighing and averting his eyes. “Of course I thought about it. You had a point anyway.”

I smiled. Humans were pretty charming. “Well I’m glad you’re moving on to other suspects.”

He glanced up at me. “We haven’t yet though,” he said. “And especially after today. Intimidation is usually associated with gang activity. And with the crowd Jungkook runs in-,”

“It wasn’t him,” I said. “This time I’m certain. Jungkook was working.”

Yoongi raised his brows. “Working?”

I nodded. “At the supermarket.”

Yoongi laughed. “He tried to rob the owner and now he’s working there?” he asked, smiling to himself. “That kid…”

“So he has an alibi.”

Yoongi shifted forward to look at me. “Or it’s more elaborate than that,” he said, smirking. “Maybe they did it during his shift to take the heat off of Jungkook’s back.”

I stiffened. “I…I don’t think so,” I said, rubbing my chin. “Hyungwon and Taehyung came with Jungkook to the shop yesterday evening. They were nothing but cordial. Apologetic even.”

Yoongi exhaled slowly. “All I’m saying is that it’s possible this is more complex than we think,” he said.

I nodded. “On that, we agree.”

He smiled, almost mischievous, and glanced at me. “That’s twice today.”

I shrugged. “Please don’t read too much into it.”

He nodded. “Well…I guess you’ve been kinda helpful,” he said with a sigh. He crossed his legs and rested his hand atop his knee. “Talking with you gave me some new ideas.”

I pursed my lips. Again, nobody was in the facility. I supposed in such a small town the police force wasn’t all that large. Distantly, I heard the hum of chatter, perhaps coming from one of the private offices. But in that dim, cold room I couldn’t help but feel slightly sympathetic towards Yoongi. How often was he alone here? “Do you not have anyone else to talk with about the case?”

He shook his head. “Joon’s giving me the cold shoulder lately,” he said, then laughed. “Nobody else in the office likes me all that much, so they’re not options.”

I shook my head. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“Hm?” he asked, eyes round, almost doe-like.

I swallowed and glanced away, disarmed. “Well…you should maintain healthy interpersonal relationships if you intend to live a healthy life.”

He laughed. “Weird way to say I’m antisocial, but…”

I met his eyes and sighed. “You’re not so bad like this,” I said. “If you could show this face to the others…I’m sure they’d like you.”

His high cheeks went slightly pink and he cleared his throat. “Well…anyway, thanks for talking it out with me. You’re…you’re not that bad either, Jane Doe.”

I blinked. “What exactly is this?” I asked, pointing between us. “Are we friends now?”

He sputtered a laugh and leaned into his chair, tilting his head back as he continued laughing. “Where did that come from?” he asked.

I shrugged and pointed at him again. “You were being warmer to me! I only assumed naturally based on the conversation and atmosphere-,”

“Acquaintances,” he said, nodding. He smiled at me. “Acquaintances until we don’t benefit each other anymore.”

I blinked. “Rather…pragmatic.”

He nodded. “Gotta be in life,” he said. “Anyway, you want some coffee? I’ve got some in the back.”

I cringed at the memory of that bitter drink and shook my head. “No thank you.”

He chuckled. “We’ve got some snacks too. How about you come take a look and see if you want anything,” he offered, standing and gesturing towards the break room in the back of the office room.

I followed suit. As I stood to my feet and dusted off my pants, Yoongi turned to me and, with a smirk, added, “Please don’t read too much into it.”

Yoongi offered me a copy of a novel Namjoon had loaned him, Demian, to read while he worked. We sat quietly opposite one another, neither one intruding on the other’s private time. A half-empty cup of sweet orange juice sat in front of me as I reclined against the chair, letting my mind wander as I read the story, scanning the pages easily as a comfortable silence enveloped us. Every now and again, Yoongi would make a sound that would rouse my attention, causing me to move only my eyes to inspect him. Every time, I found him in the same position: gaze downcast, tabbing through papers or typing at the computer, elbows resting firmly on the desk. It was as if his body was making the noises without his knowledge. Little coughs here and there, exhalations that sounded like sighs. I wondered how much stress he was under.

Again, guilt descended upon me. Was I doing the right thing opposing him so steadfastly? Was I defending Jimin by opposing him? Or was I simply being cruel? I was learning every day that the world was not as binary as I used to think. Right and wrong, sympathy and apathy, one side and the other. It seemed everything was separated not by uncrossable roads but thin, transparent, fading lines. My eyes fell again upon the worn pages of Namjoon’s book as Sinclair spoke about the painting of the woman.

“We’re back,” called a voice from the entrance.

I snapped upright and glanced towards the source. Nearly two hours had passed, with noon turning to midday without my notice. Namjoon sighed and removed his light jacket, setting it atop his desk as Jimin followed behind with crossed arms. I watched him, gauging his expression for any sign of regret or apology.

None was present.

I crossed my legs and returned to my book, sparing Namjoon a soft smile as he approached. “Did you find him?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately no,” he said. “Looks like he fled the scene pretty quickly after breaking in. He tried to rob the register and then ran on foot out the back through the workroom.”

I nodded. “Do you have a timeframe for the incident?” I asked.

Namjoon settled in the seat beside me as Jimin lingered to the side, avoiding looking at Yoongi who was avoiding looking at him. “Probably fifteen to twenty minutes before we got there.”

I hummed. “Pretty quick,” I remarked, then met Jimin’s eyes from my seat below him. “I can’t help but feel like I could’ve done more. Since it happened so shortly before we arrived.”

Jimin inhaled as if to speak, but Namjoon beat him to it. “We wouldn’t want you risking getting hurt just to find this guy,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “If it really is the killer, he’s already hurt enough people.”

I shrugged. “Might’ve helped the investigation at least if I’d gone inside.”

“I agree,” said Yoongi. “Who cares about personal injury when a killer is walking around?” he asked. “Seems like Nari is thinking seriously about all of this.”

“Enough,” said Jimin, sharp eyes scanning me. “Nari wasn’t thinking. That’s the problem. Being brave and being careless are different.”

I glanced at Namjoon who shifted uncomfortably in his seat with a sigh. “Anyway, do you have any leads?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Since Jimin doesn’t keep cameras in the shop, there’s not a lot to go on.”

“Hm,” I said, sipping my orange juice. “I like this book, Namjoon.”

He glanced at the novel in my hands and grinned. “Oh yeah? Yoongi let you borrow it?” he asked, then chuckled. “It’s a good read.”

I smiled and handed it to him. “I like that line — what was it?” I began, flipping through the files of memories in my mind until I landed upon it. “If a person is afraid of someone, it’s because he has allowed that someone to acquire power over him.”

Namjoon’s brows raised. “Funny, I liked that line too,” he said.

I peered up at Jimin as he sighed and crossed his arms. “Nari, we should leave. I’m booking you a hotel room.”

I stood up and scoffed. “When was I going to be informed of this?”

“Just now,” he said, jerking his head towards the exit. “Let’s go. It’s right down the street. I’ll walk with you.”

I rolled my eyes. “No. If you’re going to make me stay someplace, then I may as well stay here,” I said, turning towards Yoongi who watched us bicker with a sly smile. “You operate during the night, right?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Sure do.”

“Nari!” shouted Jimin, setting his jaw firmly. “Let’s go.”

I huffed. “If you continue to insist on being my benefactor, then I have no choice but to refuse!”

“What’s wrong with that? I’m just trying to take care of you since you don’t have anyone else to do it! You seem pretty damn ungrateful to the person who’s been taking responsibility for you,” he said, shaking his head.

I nodded. “Responsibility?” I asked, all anger fleeing from my body, replaced with something far worse. Hurt.

He raked his hands through his hair. “I can’t deal with you right now. Meet me outside or don’t,” he said, waving his hands before turning on his heel and storming out the front door.

I stared after him before sighing and rubbing my forehead. “I’ll go then,” I said.

Yoongi laughed. “After all that?” he asked.

I smiled softly and shrugged. “I never intended to be obstinate until the end,” I said. “I just…I want him to understand me.”

“He’s having a hard time,” said Namjoon gently from below, giving me a smile. Although there was still something odd between us, uncomfortable.

I glanced away. “I know. I will try to be softer with him,” I said, then smiled at Namjoon. “May I come back sometime to finish the book?”

His back went straight and he nodded quickly. “Anytime you want.”

I nodded. “Thank you for keeping me company, Yoongi,” I said, waving at the dark-haired man as he chuckled my way, tossing a lazy hand in the air in response.

I walked outside to find Jimin leaning against the front of the police station, kicking dirt on the ground. It seemed there was still something irreconcilably different about the two of us. Despite promising to figure things out together, I was beginning to wonder if we could. We were both too stubborn, perhaps. I was used to being alone and making my own decisions, so his well-meaning care felt like an imposition. Likewise, Jimin was likely used to caring for himself so caring for another person could be difficult.

And besides, I was nothing more than a responsibility. An obligation.

I was a burden to the one person I valued above anyone else.

He lifted his heavy gaze to meet mine and sighed. “Why fight if you’re gonna do it anyway?” he asked.

I said nothing and simply stood at his side. “If you’ll tell me where the hotel is, I can go alone,” I said, avoiding meeting his eyes.

He groaned and threw his head back. “Jesus Christ, Nari. Enough of the drama!” he said, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to look at him. “I’m looking out for you.”

“I understand,” I said, nodding. “Now if you’ll just tell me where it is-,”

“God damnit!” he shouted, shoving his hair off his forehead before taking my hand in his and wheeling me down the street.

I struggled against his grip. “No! Jimin, no! I can go alone!” I yelled, writhing backwards.

He was stronger than me, however, and easily overpowered me. He walked ahead, clasping my hand so tightly the blood rushed out of it, and led the way down the sidewalk. After a few moments of protesting, I sighed and simply walked behind him, watching the ground as my feet slapped against it. There was a heavy silence, the kind that you can feel, and I jammed my free hand in the pocket of my slacks.

The hotel came into view at the end of the block and I was thankful for the rather short walk. But my legs were tired from keeping up with his ruthless pace, so once we entered the lavish lobby and Jimin released my hand to speak with the receptionist, I gave my thighs a quick squeeze before massaging my wrist. He’d been too rough — not rough enough to hurt me, but rough enough to make me sad. He’d mentioned that he was scary when he was angry, but I never imagined that anger would be turned on me.

Perhaps I really was a heavy burden.

He turned back to me and, without looking at me, took my hand once more. His grip was softer this time, more yielding. I walked beside him with furrowed brows, watching his face as he stared ahead. He didn’t even spare me a single glance, simply pushing the call button for the gilded elevator and leading us inside silently. He pressed the button for my floor and released my hand to fold his arms over his chest, brow heavy and eyes dark.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. Not for stubbornness or hurt, but rather because I’d lost the confidence to speak comfortably with him. How long had he been seeing me as a responsibility? How much of what he’d done for me had been done out of obligation? How much had I asked of him without even knowing it? The fact alone that he wished for me to settle my emotions for him was telling enough…

We arrived at the tenth floor and he walked out first, leaving me again to follow. This time, however, I didn’t fight. I simply walked a few paces behind him in silence and when he slid the electronic key through the reader in one of the doors and swung it open, I walked inside after him. He placed the plastic key card on the table in front of the big bed and turned to me, meeting my eyes for the first time since we entered the hotel.

“You’ll stay here until I get the shop cleaned up,” he said.

I swallowed and glanced away, towards the wide windows behind his back overlooking the endless ocean. “I can just…go stay at the police station instead,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

He stiffened and stared at me. “What?” he asked.

My throat felt tight. “I never considered the position I’d been putting you in all this time. I feel like I may have overstayed my welcome and expected too much from you,” I said with a nod.

He sighed. “Is this because of what I sat outside the shop? About sorting out your feelings?” he asked.

I shook my head and met his eyes. “It’s not just that,” I said, forcing a smile. “Of all the people in the world…you’re the last one I want to burden.”

His expression softened as he looked at me, his brows now knitting. “Nari…,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said with a smile. “Really. We can still…help each other. But I think I was expecting too much.”

“Stop it,” he said, voice gentle as he walked closer. “You know I say stupid shit when I’m mad.”

I nodded. “But even if you don’t realize it, those might be your real thoughts,” I said. “And you have every right to have them.”

“It’s not that, Nari.”

“Back when Hyungwon tried to hit you, you said something similar,” I said softly, wringing my hands. So much guilt was weighing on my shoulders lately. “You said I’d caused you a lot of trouble.”

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he said. “It slipped out because I was mad.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for you-,”

“Nari!” he shouted, placing both hands on my face, causing me to meet his eyes. As I did, I felt tears brimming over my eyelids and falling onto my hot cheeks. He wiped them away carefully, smoothing his fingers over my skin. “Do you know how worried I was about you?”

I swallowed my tears, but they kept falling. “What?”

He stepped closer and I stepped back. “Back then and today too. I’m so worried about you, every day,” he said, eyes scanning my face as he set his jaw. “You care so much about me that you’re always putting yourself in dangerous situations. Someday, you’re really gonna get hurt because of me.”

I shook my head. “I told you there’s no other reason for me to be here,” I said. “If I’m not protecting you, then it’s all useless.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said gently, thumb rubbing softly against my cheek. Unconsciously, I leaned into his touch. “There’s so much that I don’t understand, Nari. But…more than anything I don’t understand why, from the start, I feel this way about you.”

I stiffened and took another small step backwards, countering his forward step. “What are you talking about?”

“Why does the thought of you getting hurt make me so angry? From the very beginning, I couldn’t stand it,” he said. “I don’t care if you hate me, but you can’t get hurt.”

My skin felt hot, especially so beneath his gentle fingers. “I-,”

He took another step, forcing me back against the hotel door. My eyes widened as I stared up at him. His cheeks were pink and his eyes were tender, warm. “You don’t cause trouble for me,” he said. “But having you around makes me so confused. Because every day I care about you more and I don’t understand how.”

“What?”

“I’ve spent my whole life being careful of people,” he said, the puff of breath from his sigh brushing my hair off my forehead. “It’s…it’s so scary to let people close, you know? They could leave so suddenly and then what?” he said, shaking his head. “So I take my time. Always.”

I blinked. “You have so many friends.”

He chuckled, eyes dropping. “That’s not the same,” he said. “You’re the only one who’s seen me like this. You’re the only one who makes me so mad.”

“That’s a bad thing,” I whispered, more tears spilling.

He shook his head and wiped them away. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice breaking. “I shouldn’t care about you this much. We hardly know each other and still…you’re shaking me up every day.”

My heart fluttered and my stomach felt light, as if I’d fallen from a great height. I balled my hands into fists and scanned his features. “Jimin, what are you saying?”

“I don’t know,” he said, moving his face closer to mine. I could see every detail in his eyes, every long dark eyelash. “But you’re not a burden. It’s not you who needs to sort out your feelings. It’s me.”

I swallowed something tight in my throat and watched him carefully as his hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me in place. “I…I think you’re confused,” I said, but my words were weak like my resolve. I could feel my knees shaking at his proximity. Every centimeter between us was charged, and I was hyperaware of his chest heaving so close to mine.

“Then let me try to clear it up,” he said, nodding at me with worried eyes, as if asking permission.

I could say nothing more. It took everything I had within me to stand erect without falling. He was frustratingly handsome, even up close. Since when had I found him so beautiful? The delicate curve of his lips, the smooth rosiness in his full cheeks, the softness of his hands on my skin. It was inexplicable. And as he moved closer, I didn’t turn away. I was not naive. I knew what he was doing to clear up his emotions. I knew what was coming, even before his lips touched mine.

But when they did, I could no longer keep my eyes open and my hands, holding all the tension in my body, released against my thighs. His lips were soft and gentle against mine, almost pleading, and very warm. I felt his nose brush against my cheek and flush as he eased my lips apart. I didn’t protest. I didn’t want to. The sensation of it was not only intoxicating, it was…familiar.

He took my lower lip between his own, eliciting a gasp from me that made his grip on my neck tighten. Without meaning to, my hands found their way to his wrists, holding tightly to his forearms until one slipped down to my waist, pulling my body flush against his. I was feeling hot, and as he embraced me I felt even hotter. My stomach did flips and my heart was pounding loudly in my ears. He pulled away and unwittingly I followed, only to crash his lips against mine again, forcing me back against the door once more. His hand roamed my lower back and my own raised to clutch his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. I ran a hand through his soft hair, pushing it back from his forehead as I’d watched him do countless times. He sighed against my lips and chills ran up my spine.

“Nari,” he whispered against me, pulling back once more and opening his eyes. “I…”

I blinked up at him, my face flushed and my hands starting to shake. My knees felt unsteady and I had to hold onto his shoulders to remain standing. As I took in his unruly hair, his reddened lips, and his tender eyes my vision began to blur, darkness encroaching from the sides. I began to feel lightheaded. Was this what happened when humans kissed? Was that why they wrote so many songs about it? He scanned my features, eyes hooded as if he may kiss me again. But as he leaned in once more, the darkness overtook my vision and the last thing I felt was my body collapsing against his.

And the last thing I heard was Jimin’s panicked voice calling, “Nari!”

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paranoiakrp · 5 years

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CITIZEN FILE RETRIEVED: JUNG JUNO ...

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name / jung juno d.o.b. / 03.15.93 age / 26 pronouns / she/her job / research & development at doryeongsan national park societies / grimoire groups / vlog › host

WHATS YOUR WEIRD?

jung juno is a scientist, and thus, when presented with a grimoire of magical dealings, approached it as a science. what is a grimoire but a more delightful sort of textbook, after all? when she takes the thin and hastily bound book home, she discovers first that it is incomplete, either by design or some other purpose.

secondarily, she discovers the contents to be fairly dry initially. there is a catalogue of information, first, on various herbs and plants. it appears to have been arranged alphabetically, but the a and b sections are missing. this is of little real consequence to juno, who is for the most part quite aware of the composition and qualities of most common plants by virtue of her trade and studies. what she finds surprising, however, are the hints of extra information, the implication that various wildflowers and so forth may entreat certain magical effects.

moving forward the book digs into timing - celestial bodies and occurrences that might affect the outcome of spells and potions once she has plucked them. there are instructions for growing these plants as well, for how to tend the seeds, what to offer them, what words to whisper to ensure the outcomes. instructions on how to prepare them afterwards- from when to pick them to how to dry them, how to powder them, how to mix them, how to boil them. these potions, tinctures, poultices; they astound her, draw her fascination with an intensity that alarms. she spends countless hours pouring over the information, bruises blooming beneath her eyes. she makes powders to take that chase away fatigue with twice the power of caffeine in a quarter of the time, even if she finds herself catching up on lost sleep later.

she bottles happiness and she decants bliss and with each step deeper into this mire she finds herself losing a little more of her own strength, pouring it into these potions and then relying on it. she feels slowly as if her strength must be fading, as if her old afflictions could resurface, uses more of those potions to offset the effects and exacerbates the cycle.

WHATS YOUR STORY?

the doctors look down at the newly born baby and, instantly, the exhausted mother can sense that something is wrong. “what is it?’ she asks, with notes of exhaustion. when they hesitate, when the baby doesn’t start crying, her voice climbs as she repeats the statement. panic continues to read as she repeats her request, as the doctors, preoccupied, attempt to assess the situation. finally the baby cries out, but it’s not the way it ought to sound. it isn’t the powerful wail of a strong child calling out new existence to the heavens. it’s a weak sound and small, tired and worn.

this is jung juno.

she’s born under inauspicious stars. the ides of march, the dead space in a season of life and finery. juno is born sick. it’s autoimmune they think, her body turning on itself, attacking itself. she’s small from infancy, with eyes too big and too dark and too haunted. like she remembers something from beyond the veil, something she isn’t meant to know. her developmental years are riddled with hospital visits and IVs, bruises and the worried flutter of her mother. a father who overworks himself to pay off hospital visits. while their insurance is a blessing, the frequency of her needs and the magnitude of her problems becomes a financial burden regardless. too many days taken off work, and her mother is reluctantly let go from her job.

junae is a weird town, and her parents have been inhabitants since birth, along with their parents, and theirs, and so on. the jung family came to town so long ago they are rumored to have been amongst the founders of the township, though they never held a particular importance. the kims, her mother’s side, came a bit later, outsiders that entered the town from another nearby village, rumors of their shamanic capabilities following after them, passed generationally from mother to daughter, until the traditions slowly died, replaced with modernity.

so when the latest in the two lines is a sickly creature with tired eyes and tortured sleep, the rumors start up easily. she’s haunted maybe, one foot in the grave. it’s the shinbyeong, that illness that afflicts those shamans who do not follow the path that has been chosen for them. it’s a curse for the families due to some dark secret.

whatever the reality is, the truth is this: she’s often bed bound, or at least restricted to her house. she is raised by books and music, a record player and a boom box and a computer her constant companions. she devours information of the world outside, of the oceans and rivers, of plants and animals, things she so often is not allowed to mingle with for fear of contagion or injury.

there are days when her health is better than others. there are months where she does all her work from home and months where she goes to school as happy and carefree as she can be. she’s weak of body but strong of spirit, honey sweet laughter and piercing eyes. like she can see through you, into you. like she enjoys the fact that people find her unsettling - and she does.

she never gets very tall, remains diminutive as she grows, and at thirteen her friends are blossoming and she’s furious. she feels sickly and stunted and sequestered, like a nun, like rapunzel in a tower. she’s boiling over with it - with the frustration and hatred. and one night, it seems almost to be a dream. she thinks it is, sometimes, at first.

it happens like this. she sits up in bed, startled,and there is the feeling of a scream that echoed in the air just before her waking. she can’t hear it but she feels it must have been there. the blue light of the moon filters through the window and she breathes out a sigh, one barely audible except in the rattling of weakened lungs, thick with fluid that ought not be there. there’s that familiar ache in her sternum as she breathes, and she slings her feet to the floor beside her bed.

the next thing that she remembers from that night, she’s in the forest. there’s a clear, cool pond of water in front of her, big enough for a few people to swim but not much more. it’s eerie, still water seems to beg her to jump in, and she does.

she submerses beneath the surface and opens her eyes. the world is a study in blue and purple, in hazy lavender and foggy steel blue. there are beautiful flowers in the depths of the pond, shining in an opalescent glint. she picks one and brings it to her nose to smell it, before she remembers that she’s underwater. time slows to a crawl and the sound of the cicadas in the forest is dimmed, muted to a quiet throb. for a moment, she feels like she’s drowning. lungs burning, she opens her mouth to take a breath, to fill her lungs with water. maybe she’s tired of living half functional and sequestered, maybe it’s an instinct she can’t name, maybe it’s a panic response. the pond seems so much deeper than it looked, and then -

she’s resurfacing.

and then -

she’s in her house. her hair is half damp, mud smudges over her cheeks, her legs and arms have been scraped and scratched. there are fading bruises on her shins and scrapes on her elbows. she’s paler than usual and her lips tinged slightly blue despite the fact that it’s been so warm out lately. her mother looks to her as she enters the door and drops the phone in her hand. stares, like she’s seen a ghost.

“i must have scared you right?” is what juno says, tries to downplay the situation, but her voice hitches and rasps, vocal chords struggling, and she blinks hard, surprised at the croak of sound. she clears her throat but it’s only a little better. she realizes now, suddenly, how desperately parched she is.

her mother begins to cry.

it seems awfully exaggerated, the wail that comes from her lips, and she’s startled. afraid, even, to find her mother suddenly and desperately clinging to her, sinking to her knees, holding her so tightly juno feels her ribs are on the edge of cracking, a rupturing at hand.

that’s when it begins to come out.

she’s been gone for a week and a half.

there have been search parties and missing persons fliers and they’d feared the worst. she’d always been so sick, after all, and it’s the height of summer. monsoon season. the heat oppressive and the rain and winds furious. tropical storms have been blowing through the region and that at least would suggest where the dampness of her hair has originated, considering it couldn’t be from the dip in the pond she remembers as happening just hours ago – right?

they rush her to the hospital, a familiar route she could navigate blindfolded by now, she thinks, and settle her in a bed. there are tests and iv drips and examinations and what they find is thought to be a miracle. now the first note of worry is that her illness will have overtaken her recent bouts of good health, the second that she had been abducted. she explains what she remembers and the doctors verify what the police had suggested - that there’s likely some kind of amnesia, that it might not come back, depending on what happened. repressed traumas or a bump on the head or some kind of complication of something, it was impossible to tell easily. but the surprise, the surprise is that all evidence of autoimmune disorder, of weakened organs, of struggling cells, has been erased.

the doctors call it a miracle. it is as if her body has called a truce upon itself, sweeping away the horror of what it had been to the far more functional and amenable current state. and that’s how jung juno starts high school as a minor celebrity. with her face having been plastered all over the town on missing posters to the near constant news coverage from the town on the matter, everyone wants to talk to her. to know where she had been, what had happened, was she really entirely well now? had she sold her soul to a demon or slept with the devil, had she been abducted and escaped (or killed) her captor.

at first she’s annoyed by it, frustrated and flustered. later she leans into the attention, having found so little of it in her past. she becomes a master chameleon, shifting shades to appease and please the people around her, to titillate or horrify at her own discretion. she finds a gleeful joy in her macabre power over this lost chunk of time. she tells no one the truth- that she can’t remember a lick of it. that she doesn’t even feel, truly, like anything is missing from her mind. rather it seems as though she had spent that whole week drowning in the pond. she returns there, occasionally over the years, as if to find some secret answer. it takes two years before she can duck beneath the water again with all the hubris of a teenager who finds herself immortal, but the only outcome is wet hair and a gasp for breath when she resurfaces, checks her phone to find no such anomalies of time or space.

sometimes, there are never answers.

she gets older. she grows up, and the interest in her strange story fades but she’s always wondering. always thinking. how can science explain what happened to her? what’s going on out in those wood? what might she have seen, wandering out there for a week and a half with no recollection? what could she have faced?

eventually this insatiable curiosity feeds into her motives, and she goes up to seoul to study. a bachelors in biology and a masters in biochemistry later, she returns to junae with a job. hired on by the doryeongsan park service, she is set up in a lab to run research and development, a dusty department with little to show in terms of budget, progress, or initiative. but juno holds new vigor and life, a relentless obsession with the dark woods and the life that grows in them, which she knows - desperately believes - must transcend the realm of science as it is understood now.

this leaves her in a unique position to take full advantage of the grimoire, when she uncovers it on a normal afternoon in the library. after all, she spends plenty of time there, pouring over various books, records from past years on rainfall and growth, this and that. it doesn’t seem like much at first - clearly incomplete as it lacks either title or table of contents, without a clearly defined end. this in itself intrigues her. it doesn’t have a library system sticker so she makes the executive decision to slide it into her bag for further exploration later.

the pages tell her things she already knows, in a certain sense. firstly that plants have particular properties and effects, and so on. this isn’t new information. willowbark for headaches, ginger for stomach aches, it’s all been known long into the past. but this book goes beyond that. it delves into combinations and effects, into powders and potions for consumption and promise more than she could ever imagine.

she digs into it with fervent abandon, initially skeptical.

in her time back in town she’s fallen into a group of vloggers, her incessant questioning and skulking around the woods and the library finally drawing attention by the plucky group. they don’t start off as much as anything, but gradually they find themselves falling in with one another, stumbling along the route of ghost hunters or scooby squads the world over. she’s not completely sold on half of the things that they seek out, but she holds the desperate yearning to know more, to pick apart the world around her. besides, they say it adds some credibility if she’s there. a real scientist, and one with familiarity of the acres of land and mountain that the park encompasses.

so far the only mysteries she has begun to actually unravel have been done far off camera in the secret of her home, pouring through the pages of the grimoire and delving into the world of potions and talismans and charms.

#pa.app #pa.lee jieun #pa.grimoire #pa.vlog

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