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The jar was eye-catching amongst all the other antiques.
It stood proudly like a centerpiece, radiating a powerful aura and sparkling with vibrant light. Truly, it was a gem surrounded by dull, gray, dust antiques.
Madel handled it with care, cradling it in her arms as she made her way back to the front desk. The old lady was still busy reading her book, but she almost automatically looked up as she neared and offered her a kind smile.
"Found what you're looking for?"
"Um... I'm not sure. But I want to purchase this jar as well as... Do you... have anything that could... bring someone back?"
"In what context? Did they move to a different place? Was it a break-up and are they currently with someone else? There are different types of magic for each situation and you'll want to be able to have the one best suited for yours."
"Um, no, actually... Something to bring someone back... from the dead?"
The woman seemed taken aback as she froze. Gently, she took a deep breath and spoke softly, "I know how much it hurts to lose someone. But magic like that... has serious repercussions."
"I don't care."
"Well, I do," the woman said. "And I don't do that kind of magic."
A sorrowful expression took over Madel's face. The woman softened at such a pitiful sight and said, "But that jar seems like it's found the right owner."
A small spark of hope lit up Madel's eyes.
"That jar... can store any sound and replay it whenever you open it."
"But... he's dead."
The woman took something from under her desk. Handing a strange talisman to Madel, she said, "Leave the jar open beside your bed when you go to sleep tonight. Put this talisman under your pillow. Chant your loved one's name three times before going to sleep. You will dream of your most precious memory with that person. And in the morning, when you wake up, his voice will already be stored inside the jar."
She examined the talisman once it was in her hands, then came to a decision.
"I'll take it. How much?"
The woman smiled sadly and shook her head. "Consider it a gift. I can feel your pain, and I'm sorry about your loss. I hope you find peace. But be warned: everything has a price."
With a heavy heart, Madel turned and left the shop.
That night, she placed the open jar on her bedside table and the talisman under her pillow. Laying a hand on top of it, she closed her eyes and whispered, feeling hot tears form behind her eyelids:
Park Jisung. Park Jisung. Park Jisung.
Lying down, she willed herself to drift off into a deep slumber.
She dreamt of Jisung.
She dreamt of his curious eyes, always filled with so much childlike wonder.
She dreamt of his beautiful baritone voice, always lulling her to sleep and spreading comfort and healing like a warmth inside her chest.
She dreamt of his little giggles and bright smiles, bubbling up happiness and laughter in her chest like a boiling cauldron.
She dreamt of him — his hair wet, running and dancing around in the floor fountains, laughing like there was no tomorrow, his warm hands holding hers as he twirled her around and held her close against his chest.
She woke up with a start.
The jar was closed. Grabbing it in a frenzy, she twisted the lid open and listened in shock as Jisung's low voice spoke:
I love you, Madel.
Her body had gotten used to being wracked by sobs as she remembered him on his hospital bed in his final hours before he lost the battle with leukemia. He held her hand tightly in his and told her the words she had always wanted to hear, the words she had always wanted to say.
Every day, from then on, she listened to Jisung's voice on a daily basis. It became an addiction, something she couldn't last a day without.
But the woman was right when she said everything has a price.
It was too late when Madel realized that with every time she opened the jar, she would forget the way his eyes shone or the way his cheeks puffed out when he was upset. The once vivid image of his soft gaze and his smiling face slowly faded away from her memory with each repetition of Jisung's dying words.
And with each passing day, she would lose more and more of him — the way he ate, the way he breathed, the way he sang, the color of his eyes, the length of his hair, the way they met, the love she had for him, the way he tucked her hair behind her ears, the times they laid on the field and stared up at the stars, even his name.
Soon, all that would be left of him would be his voice saying those words: I love you, Madel.
And perhaps, even then, it would be a voice she would no longer recognize. It would sound familiar, but no matter how much she tried to remember why that voice gave her a bittersweet longing, only wisps of his memory would remain. And she would be left to grasp at the tendrils of his existence, the man she had loved so much until she forgot.
She didn't know that she was losing him again, perhaps permanently.