Work Text:
XX village, year 20XX, at 'happy child playground'.
Contrary to its name, the place was rather desolate. It wasn't a big playground to begin with, a swing, a seesaw, some ropes that had been hung between some trees and a wooden construction with a slide that was falling apart. Truly a run-down place. Once it might have been a place full of joy and laughter, but now the colors were partly ripped off and the whole vibe was rather scary. How many years had it been since it became that way?
Because of its vibes that were reminiscent of a lost place, the locals refrained from going there and didn't really mention it. Almost as if forgotten.
But to one individual, this was a safe space, heaven between all these hells he had to live through every day. His own little paradise where he could flee from all those crazy people that he deemed lunatics, through and through.
So it wasn't surprising that on this day, a lone child was sitting beneath the wooden construction that had partly broken down, forming a small area he could fit in. A space that the adults wouldn't reach. Somewhere he at least felt safe for the moment.
Even the rain, wind and darkness outside didn't scare him as much as those adults.
The name of this poor child, you ask? It was a name that sometimes, the child wished to not be his own. Because maybe, if he had another name, then just maybe this would mean that he had been born elsewhere. Not here, not in this cursed village.
Baek Saheon, 9 years old.
Even at his age, he could very well tell that those people he had been living with all his life had not been normal. Every time he had to interact with them, he had to suppress that cold feeling that suddenly overcame him, his hair standing up on his arms. He was young, so he didn't know the meaning of it, but he knew it wasn't good because it felt bad and it made him wanting to escape.
Just like today. It was too much for him, so he ran off to this place where they would not be.
Arms slung around his slightly freezing body, he cursed them all. They should just disappear. Forever. Or die. They should feel how he felt, feeling the squeeze in his heart every time he had to face them. The nausea.
"Fucking die." The child murmured.
He knew the adults wouldn't search for him, but since he had no other place to return to, so he would be going back sooner or later. They knew this well. And he hated the fact they knew.
"Just. Fucking die!", he spat out these words, unbefitting of a young child his age. He was truly unlucky.
Unable to calm his mind, he clenched his fists, wanting to destroy something just to ease his slowly boiling anger. The child exhaled deeply.
Then.
Smash!
His little fist struck a wooden plank.
One time
Two times
"Ah." A little noise escaped his mouth, a result of his nerves clearly signaling pain.
Naturally, he was too weak to actually damage the wooden planks, even though they were decayed through time and not in good condition anymore.
The kid stared at them with a displeased look on his face.
"I wanna escape.." he muttered almost inaudible.
'Far away... where they can't find me...' the kid added in his mind.
He shifted his weight, changing positions.
His eyes fell on something at the periphery of his vision, slightly glimmering in the light of the setting sun.
He reached out and..
'Ah.'
It was just a slightly sharper stone than usual ones. Looking at it for some seconds, he raised it a few centimeters and pressed it against one of the wooden planks. The child blinked, not sure what he wanted to do. Some seconds passed. A bird somewhere started cawing before it fell silent again.
Then, the child began moving his hands, carving out letters. Slowly, as if thinking carefully of each one. One letter, then two. Then three. A whole sentence.
He lowered his arm again, then blinked again. He was confused. Why did he even bother? Did he just want to let out his pent-up emotions? He wasn't allowed to scream and curse, after all. They said it was bad. That raging and swearing brings misfortune. That those who forget, disappear. Their endless chanting, those words that were deeply engraved into his soul.
He crouched down, head on his knees, eyes closed. Words and sentences that he didn't want to hear were looping inside his head. Over and over again. It was suffocating. He wanted it to stop.
After a while, he slowly opened his eyes again, a wet liquid dripping down the outer edge of his eye. The child quickly got up and left his safe area, his paradise not yet tainted by the filthy hands of those adults.
For today, he would return. He didn't have a choice after all. Not yet.
...
On a wooden plank, there was a sentence inscribed in a shaky handwriting, letters spelled in irregular sizes with weird spacing:
s͎☐v͎e͎ ͎m͎☐
☾·༺ :·༻·
Days passed. He woke up, ate, sometimes cried soundlessly, stared at nothing at all, ate again, clenched his fist in anger, thought about leaving forever, flinched when his name was called and slept a restless sleep, often woken up by him thrashing around in bed, the nightmares feeling more real than they should. Rinse and repeat. Again. Rinse and repeat. He didn't count the days because it wouldn't change anything at all. The days continued, all the same.
Today was different. He had held on for the last several weeks, not going out anywhere but today he was just too fed up with everything again, so in a quiet moment, he slipped out and went back to his safe place. The playground. It was drizzling, so he went straight back to sit beneath the dilapidated wooden structure, where his emotional outburst had happened some time ago.
Arms around his knees, the kid mindlessly stared ahead, letting the cold and wet sink into his clothes and skin. It didn't matter if he got sick; it's not like the others would care much. So he didn't care either.
He blinked slowly.
'Huh?'
He blinked again, this time faster.
'???'
The kid suddenly crouched forward, blinking rapidly and holding out a hand to something as if unbelieving.
His eyes were glued to a certain wooden plank where something had been written in a messy handwriting.
𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆
No, this wasn't the problem; it was what he had written himself after all. The problem was the additional letters that definitely hadn't been there the last time he was here.
Another messy handwriting, probably even worse than his own.
𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?
'Finally lost my fucking mind, great', a bitter thought popped up inside the kid's head, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in self-disgust. He pinched his arm but even though he felt a slight discomfort, the writing didn't change.
Wait.
Pinch
Still no change.
'???'
...
...Didn't that mean.. the words were truly there?
He looked around, frantically searching for the sharp stone he had used last time.
'Ah!'
He found it some centimeters away to his left and instantly grabbed it. Holding it up to the wooden plank, he suddenly stopped as if hesitating.
It was suspicious, truly. Never had he seen anyone else around here and the opening to the wooden structure where he sat was too small for an adult to fit in, so how on earth would there be another writing? Clearly from another child above that.
The hair on his arms stood in alarm; he was young but he wasn't stupid. He considered putting down the stone again but..
So what?
So what if it was suspicious?
There was someone who left the words here and he would be an idiot to just ignore it. If he was already in hell, how much worse could it possibly become? It was worth more than a shot, and if it turned out bad, oh well, he didn't care much. Everything else be doomed.
𝒉𝒆𝒚
It was simple, completely ignoring the question the other person had left.
He squinted his eyes, staring intently at the word he had just written as if he stared hard enough, an answer would magically appear beneath it. Seconds passed, turning into minutes. He waited, then waited some more.
Nothing happened.
He waited until the sky started to turn dark and the rain stopped before he snapped out of his thoughts, blinking and letting reality sink in. Nothing had changed in the end. Maybe he was stupid to believe that something would.
So once again, he crawled out of this space, dusted off his clothes and went back to the village.
☾·༺ :·༻·
Days passed again. He woke up, ate, sometimes cried soundlessly, stared at nothing at all, ate again, clenched his fist in anger, thought about leaving forever, flinched when his name was called and slept a restless sleep, often woken up by him thrashing around in bed, the nightmares feeling more real than they should. Rinse and repeat. Again. Rinse and repeat. He didn't count the days because it wouldn't change anything at all. The days continued, all the same.
☾·༺ :·༻·
More days passed like this but today was different. Everything was too much again, so he left for the playground, crawling into his space beneath the wooden structure, feeling an odd sense of deja vu.
Arms around his knees, the kid mindlessly stared ahead. Today it wasn't raining and he didn't get sick the last time. Not that it would have mattered. It never did before after all.
He blinked slowly. Didn't he forget something?
'Ah.'
Without adjusting his head, he glanced at a specific wooden plank without much expectation. His last message was there and as expected, nothing else had been wri-
𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌ℯ𝓇𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝓂ℯ??
A bit below, as if added at another time:
𝒽ℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ???
The kid, Saheon, scrambled to his feet and-
"Ouch!"
Hit his head hard on the wooden planks that made up the ceiling of this construction.
He cursed on reflex before he crouched down again, because naturally, the space was too small for even a kid to stand up straight. Of course he knew that but in the moment of his surprise, he kind of forgot.
It was the same handwriting as before; he could tell at a glance. Determined, he patted around the floor, his eyes not leaving the newly appeared words as if scared they could disappear at any moment. His hands finally grabbed something. The same stone as last time. The kid held it up and this time, without hesitating, he brought it to the wooden plank, just below where the previous words had been written.
𝒚𝒐𝒖
The letters were even more rushed than his original writing because of the adrenaline running through his body.
𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖?
There was so much he wanted to say, to ask and so many thoughts that went rampant in his head. Somewhere, there was someone who apparently had come here to do whatever, maybe just by coincidence or maybe that person was also running from something.
'Maybe', a thought he didn't dare to complete. 'Maybe, this person..is just like..'
Because if he did, it would nurture a hope, and he couldn't afford to be hoping.
With somewhat trembling hands, he lowered the stone again and looked at that plank, just like the last time.
A silent plea echoed in his head.
One minute, two, and then three. He just kept staring because if he just kept staring hard enough, then maybe, maybe-
ℴ𝒽
𝓎ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀
The kid flinched so hard he almost hit his head again.
'What the hell?'
He, in fact, did not expect words to actually magically appear, his staring be damned. Pinching his left arm, he tried to calm himself down again.
𝒽ℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ???
Yup, maybe in the end he had turned crazy just like the adults in this cursed village.
Nevertheless, he held the stone to the wooden plank before carving out letters.
☾·༺ :·༻·
For the next few days, the kid slipped out of the village and returned to this familiar place under the half-broken-down wooden construction and every day, he talked to the stranger that somehow answered all his questions without somehow even being there. It was strange, but it kept him occupied. For once in a long time, he felt something like belonging, a sense of companionship.
So he wasn't sure if he should actually ask the question that kept him awake at night, fearing that maybe the stranger would disappear and leave him behind. He utterly hated that thought, despised it even.
That's why he was even more surprised when one day, he was the one who got asked this question.
𝓈ℴ 𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ 𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓇𝓃?
He wondered if he should just answer honestly, but wouldn't that mean that the other would know that he lived in a mad hell and eventually get spooked off? Leaving him?
Still, he answered truthfully.
xx 𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒆
He waited, then-
𝓃ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝒹 ℴ𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝒷ℯ𝒻ℴ𝓇ℯ
Baek Saheon let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't like outsiders came here often; there was this festival once a year but that was about it.
𝒽ℯ𝓎, ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒾𝓉
The kid sucked in a sharp breath.
"Absolutely not!" he unintentionally shouted at nothing in particular at all. There was no one that would hear him but he just couldn't help it.
So he just lifted the stone again and wrote:
𝒏𝒐
Some seconds later
𝓌𝒽𝓎?
𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇𝒇
He looked at the letters he had just written for a moment before a low panic set in, instantly slashing through the words as if erratically trying to erase them. Then-
'𝓀𝒶𝓎
'No I-' his breathing grew irregular, heart rate increasing.
𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝓊 𝓈𝒽ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓉ℯ𝒶𝒹~
'Ah', he let out a strained breath. The stranger wasn't mad. He wouldn't leave. A warm feeling settled into his chest. A feeling of barely contained excitement that he absolutely shouldn't be having; he didn't want to get hurt in the end.
Nevertheless, a small smile crept up his lips as he wanted to write his next words. Because maybe, if he could only know the name of the place where the other is communicating from, then maybe one day, he could in fact visit him. They wouldn't have to write like this anymore. A muffled laugh almost escaped him.
Maybe, maybe they could even be-
𝓈𝓇𝓎 ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓉ℴ ℊℴ
Badump
....
'Ah'
Of course. The feeling in his chest was crushed into the ground just like that, a certain cold settling in.
𝒌
And after a second, he added another set of words.
𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒖 𝒃𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌?
He stared at those letters for a second too long. It's okay, it wasn't like the other hadn't gone like this before. It seemed like they actually had a place to return to. Unlike him. He should be happy for them.
𝓈𝓊𝓇ℯ!
A simple yet mighty word for Saheon. They will return. They said so after all.
For a little while longer, he just looked at the conversation they had just had, if one could even call it that. But for him, it was enough. A sign that he was seen.
The cold concrete beneath his feet didn't feel as cold anymore; providing a warmth that his actual home never did or ever even could.
☾·༺ :·༻·
Days passed again. He woke up, ate, stopped crying soundlessly, still stared at nothing at all, ate again, clenched his fist in anger, thought about leaving forever, flinched when his name was called and slept a restless sleep, often woken up by him thrashing around in bed, the nightmares feeling more real than they should. Rinse and repeat. Again. Rinse and repeat. He didn't count the days because it wouldn't change anything at all. The days continued, all the same.
With one difference. In the afternoon, he slipped out and went to the playground, an anticipation whirling in his chest. Often, the other one would have already written something as if waiting and if not, then he would just be writing first. There was always an instant answer as if he had been expected. It felt great. Exhilarating.
They talked about everything: food, what they did that day and what they wanted to do in the future. About the adults that didn't seem to understand them.
It was obvious that the stranger lived a completely different life from him, a good one. That's why sometimes, he didn't know what to answer to the questions asked and bullshitted something on the spot to not seem weird. To not scare the other one off. To maybe be a bit more like them. To be normal and live an ordinary life. Even if he didn't know what it would be like because he didn't really have a comparison other than the stranger, it was something he had always wanted.
And if he sometimes felt a pang of jealousy in his heart, then he would pretend it wasn't there.
☾·༺ :·༻·
Days passed. He didn't count them because it wouldn't change anything at all. The days continued, but a faint yearning grew within him. That one day he would meet that stranger kid who, for whatever reason, decided to share their time with him. And at that time, he would be honest. About himself and about his circumstances. The things he couldn't say yet. He would repay their kindness to the fullest.
And then, one day-
𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒷ℯ 𝒻𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓃𝒹𝓈?
☾·༺ :·༻·
Days passed. He counted them all because of the restlessness in his heart. The kid couldn't pretend anymore that nothing had changed, even though he couldn't let anyone know.
After that day, the one when the other had asked him that question, he was excited. He hadn't answered anything after reading those words; he couldn't. Such a word, towards him-
friend
So instead of writing back, he just ran away in a panic. Was it his survival instincts kicking in? Why, in this of every moments-
The word still tasted weird in his mouth. What was that even supposed to mean? How could he, how could he-
But today was different, he would go back and give an answer. He would write back. He didn't want to ignore it anymore. Finally, he could have something that was considered normal. Ordinary.
So maybe, he could hold on a few more years in this hell with the stranger's help. He would be able to do it, holding on and when the day finally came, he would be out of here, escaping far away, building a whole new life. Meeting that person that gave him a new purpose in this damned hell.
Putting himself together, he went back to the playground, some minutes earlier than he used to because he couldn't shut up the voices in his head. He could do it.
He would arrive, crouch down under the dilapidated wooden construction and carve out the letters into one of the planks that still had space on it. Naturally, a lot of those wooden planks were already fully covered with text, words overlapping words over and over again. And if they inevitably ran out of space one day, then they would find another option to continue communicating. As long as they were a team, as long as they had and listened to each other, then, then-
....
..
???
Why?
'Why?!'
His feet stopped dead in their tracks. The kid rubbed his eyes with his hands a bit too hard until they burned.
..
It shouldn't be like this.
It couldn't, there was an error somewhere, did he take the wrong way? Did he get lost? That had to be it, because, because-
...
It was all burned down. Gone. Black ash remaining. No signs of a playground left. Everything. Was gone.
His lifeline, gone.
His f̵͖̜̉ͅr̴̨̦͕̝ỉ͔͖̜͌☐☐☐, gone.
....
....
Why?
Why?
Why did he never ask for the stranger's name?
☾·༺ :·༻·
Years passed. He woke up, ate, stared at nothing at all and slept a restless sleep, often woken up by him thrashing around in bed, the nightmares feeling more real than they should. Possibly even more than before. Rinse and repeat. Again. Rinse and repeat. He didn't count the years because it wouldn't change anything at all. Memories blurred into each other with every minute passing. The years continued, all the same but in the end, he escaped the village. And then, one day, he found himself at a new employee orientation at a famous pharmaceutical company.
☾·༺ :·༻·
Everything flowed normal, he would still return once a year to that cursed village and afterwards, he felt like shit. Rinse and repeat.
But.
That day.
Everything ended; his hell ended. He would finally be free.
Maybe the nightmares would vanish from his life once and for all.
Baek Saheon's heartbeat echoed in his ears. Running along the mountain path, he left this village and the madness of the people living there behind. Today he knew it was a cult and he had been unlucky enough to be born in it. It was truly fucked up.
In the background, he could still hear noises he didn't exactly want to distinguish; he was done with everything. So after he was out of here, he wouldn't need to return here yearly anymore. There were countless thoughts running through his head, and one specifically stood out. That agent. The one with glasses who he tricked into pulling the special price.
The one that had never judged him, even in the face of being sacrificed at the festival. An absurd fate. The agent had never judged him once for wanting to survive, not getting angry or trying to deceive him by playing friendly. He did none of that.
Instead, he felt sincere and calm, helping without demanding anything in return. And in the end, he kept his promise of saving them both.
This made him wonder... there were actually people like this? Being selfless, actually helping and not repeating the same empty words over and over again.
Why only now? Why couldn't he have met someone like this when he truly needed them? How utterly unfortunate.
So Baek Saheon made a promise to himself that day, that whatever happens, he would never forget this agent.
Maybe a part of him even looked forward to meeting him again.
Maybe that's why he left that paper boat.
☾·༺ :·༻·
Days passed. He didn't count them because it wouldn't make a difference; they were the same more or less. Entering darkness, collecting dream essence, getting out of them, repeat.
More days passed.
His impatience grew.
~Are you dead?
Maybe that's why he left these words in a fit of annoyance. It was more than possible that that agent died that day. Sure, it was unfortunate but that person would be just another unlucky person to find their end like this. Not that it truly bothered him, it just.. slightly annoyed him for some reason.
More days passed where he entered darkness, collected dream essence and collected points. Why did he collect them again? Did it even matter anymore now?
He continued anyway.
And then, then-
~I'm not dead.
Baek Saheon flinched so hard he almost bit his tongue.
'Fuck!' Curses flowed out of his mouth naturally as he stared at the newly appeared lines. 'Wtf??'
He looked around frantically as he scanned his surroundings for a pen.
'Ah'
He picked it up and, calming his beating heart, scribbled down the hurried words that resonated with him the most at the moment.
~What the...?!
As it turned out, the agent truly was an idiot. A goodhearted, naive idiot who didn't know the paper boat he left was a communication device, so his answer came in late. At least that's what he told him. As expected, he hadn't been long at the disaster management bureau.
And then...
~The Supernatural Disaster you were worried about has disappeared.
~There will be no more lotteries or festivals.
~You are free.
He stared at the sentences for a long time, letting everything sink in. He didn't immediately respond. The voices in his head were too loud again, a feeling he hadn't had in a long time.
☾·༺ :·༻·
That wasn't the only time they communicated like this. It felt.. kind of nice. Not that he would say this out loud if anyone asked. And somewhere deep in his brain, cast aside by a time long since passed, there was something that tried to surface. To be seen. To be remembered.
What was it? Baek Saheon couldn't put a finger around it even if he tried. Maybe it wasn't too strange. The trauma he got from all those fucked up years sat deep. Maybe he didn't even want to remember, because remembering often meant pain and he wasn't that pitiful child anymore who would easily cry and run away from his problems.
Wait.
...Did he actually run away at some point? His head hurt and he decided not to think about this further. That was a chapter in his life that had already been written and that he didn't want to open again.
It wouldn't change anything and would probably just annoy him. And he despised annoying things he couldn't control.
☾·༺ :·༻·
"…Agent?"
And then, one day...
"It is you."
He met him again in the elevator. That agent. The person that saved him. The one that didn't make empty promises. This time, he wasn't wearing that bureau jacket and instead a researcher's lab coat.
Talking to him, he had another enlightenment: That agent was not only an idiot, but actually insane, trying to infiltrate Daydream like this. Maybe that person had a death wish after all. What a waste of good manpower.
'Ah whatever'
It's not like he actually cared. A voice in the back of his head grew louder again. Why? This feeling annoyed him greatly. It just didn't want to shut up no matter how hard he tried.
But still...
...
"I'll be at the company all day, so you can contact me through the paper boat."
With that, he left the elevator, leaving the speechless agent behind. Yes, this surely felt right. The agent couldn't be trusted with not trying to do something ridiculous and stupid, so just in case, he would pay more attention to the paper boat than usually. After all, he wouldn't want to miss out on the amusing things that agent would possibly come up with.
'Haah'
He really got used to the paper boat as a way to communicate. Somehow there seemed to be a sense of familiarity radiating from it, the reason he could only guess.
☾·༺ :·༻·
Everything turned out more annoying than he thought. First he saved the agent and then the agent saved some random useless person that would have died anyway when they clearly had an objective to fulfill, all the while not even caring about his own safety.
'Tch'
That agent also talked a lot. Things Baek Saheon didn't want to hear. But what could he say? Why did it feel like this, as if something was squeezing at his insides, when it clearly shouldn't?
"If we can all live, there’s no need to let someone die, right?"
Baek Saheon wanted it to stop. He wanted the words to stop spinning in his head, cursing him.
He wanted to throw out a sharp reply, anything, just anything, but he couldn't come up with something, so in the end, he said nothing. Just silence. His chest felt heavy.
"Anyway, congratulations."
"For what?"
"It might not have been your intention, but because Saheon-ssi was here, that person will live."
...'Ah'
The words continued to haunt him. That... undeniable kindness.. the familiarity.. the warmth.. everything about this person was just..just-
☾·༺ :·༻·
Baek Saheon had a strange dream. An old playground in the middle of nowhere. Wooden structures, dilapidated, rotten, falling apart. Rain. Immense darkness, pain, hurt. Despair. Fingernails that scratched over wooden planks over and over again until they were bleeding. More pain, more despair. Unbearable silence. A stone. More wooden planks. Letters, carved out in a hurry. A sentence, then two, then three. More rain, no, were they actually tears?
And then, what? A glimmer of sun? A glimmer of ☐☐☐☐?
More sentences, less despair, less darkness. Still hurting, but less. A coldness that didn't feel as cold anymore.
Even more sentences, a laugh, and then and then-
'FRI☐ND?'
More hope, less darkness, less pain and less despair, almost gone. A feeling of accomplishment, a feeling of determination.
And then, and then-
𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ 𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ
𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ
𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ
𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉
𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉
𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓉𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓉
𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓀ℯ𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓂𝒶𝓀ℯ𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝒾𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁ℯ𝒶𝓈ℯ𝓂𝒶𝓀ℯ𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎ℯ𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎𝓌𝒽𝓎-
Ash.
Black ash everywhere.
Burned.
Distorted forms and shapes, wooden planks turning into paper boats and then, and then-
Baek Saheon woke up in a cold sweat, trembling awfully, eyes blown open wide. His heartbeat was thundering in his ears, a rhythm way too fast to be considered normal. He couldn't move; he didn't feel his limbs, just staring at the white ceiling, forgetting to blink. Time passed. His eyes burned. Seconds turned into minutes, his mind unable to form coherent thoughts.
....
..
It was him, wasn't it? That person. That stranger. That child. How could he have forgotten? All these years.. he had been, he had been-
Why?
Why did he have to forget?
Why?
Why?
WHY?
...
So why was it that the next time he met that agent, he was stuffed into a dream incubator as a formless piece of flesh? Did he even see him properly? Recognize him? Was he in pain? He had so many questions that he knew wouldn't be heard, or even if they did, there was no chance for him to get any answers. Not while the agent was like this.
This.. condition... wasn't it just too unfair?
Why did he have to always lose the things, no, the people that actually meant something to him? Why, like this? Every time he found something to claw on, he just had to, he just had to-
....
...
The name he didn't ask about all these years ago he knew now. Not only that agent, but the person behind that mask. The child that turned into an adult, just like him. The one that had been closer to him than he would have ever expected. The one he so desperately wanted to meet when he was younger. The child that so innocently asked him if he wanted to become his fri☐☐☐. The one he never had the chance to answer to. Maybe will now never be able to give his answer. Maybe it was too late. Was this the consequence of his ignorance? Him not being able to identify this child properly even though he had been this close? Even though all the signs were there?
Maybe this really was his karma for all the things he did wrong in his damned life.
Now, a formless piece of flesh was all he had as a last expression of him, a reminder, a cruel joke of fate. That day, Baek Saheon swore to tear apart the things, the people, the gods or whatever was responsible for this situation. Responsible for what his fellow batchmate, his agent, his could-have-been-friend, has become.
A silent yet deadly vow.
....
....
...
☾·༺ :·༻·
Years ago, in an underground facility in a dimly lit room, where dust was accumulating on several wooden surfaces.
"Attempt 296, success. Connection between chosen entity and civilian child verified."
The scribbling of a pen in a notebook.
"Understood. Any anomalies?"
"Not yet. The entity behaves just like a normal child. Assumed to be a similar world as ours with similar moral capacities."
More scribbling.
"So implementing that darkness into that playground, forming a connection between this world and their world, is a phenomenal scientific achievement."
"Exactly. To tell the upper management, we can use these results as a basis for further research into inviting said entity into this world. It's presumed to be a harmless world; inviting said being won't bring any disaster upon us."
Ruffling of clothes.
"The emotional connection to our world will keep the entity bound to this place, making it possible to always pinpoint its exact location. Its inevitable fate is already decided as a guest in this world."
A short silence.
"So finally.. paradise will come closer."
...
"Yes. Paradise...will be in reach soon.. just, a few more years is all we need."
A hand gently closed the notebook. On its cover, words were inscribed with artistic lines, almost dreamy.
𝕮𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍:
𝕴𝖗𝖊𝖚𝖒-𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖑
𝕬 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘
𝕬 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖘𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌
𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖊
☾·༺ :·༻·