UPPWOKK Notification: You’ve Received a New Message!
Click. Click. Click. The sound of computer keys echoed in the quiet room.
“Hello Mr. Kang, it’s me again. I need you to rewrite the code. There are some errors in the .EXE file. Could you take a look?” the client’s message read.
“Hello again! Thanks for reaching out. Sure, I can rewrite it. I’ll send over the revised version by tomorrow,” Hae Joon typed back, his fingers hitting the keys with practiced speed.
He leaned back in his gaming chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling, and let out a sigh.
"Ahh... why wasn’t I born into a rich family? Then maybe I wouldn’t have to work so hard just to get by,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He chuckled. “Who am I kidding? It’s not like money’s gonna rain down on me just because I’m complaining.”
Thirty minutes passed in a daze. A loud grumble from his stomach broke the silence. Hae Joon pushed himself up, wandered into the kitchen, and quickly whipped up a rice omelet for brunch. After finishing his meal, he resumed work, only surfacing from his computer when the clock read 18:18 PM.
Stretching, he glanced at the time. “Whoa, it’s already 6:18. What should I do for dinner? Maybe I’ll eat out; I’m too lazy for cooking.”
He took a shower, slipped into a casual night-out outfit, and set out to explore the night market for something tasty. As he strolled among the vibrant lights and enticing food stalls, a small hand tugged at his sleeve. Startled, he looked down to see a little boy, about six years old, staring up at him with big, uncertain eyes.
“Uncle, can you help me find my parents?” the boy asked timidly.
"Uncle?” Hae Joon almost flinched at the title. He crouched to the boy’s eye level and ruffled his hair gently. “Kiddo, do me a favor and call me ‘Brother,’ okay? I’m only thirty, not old enough to be an ‘uncle,’ and I’m definitely not married with kids yet!”
The boy gave a shy smile. “Okay, Big Brother.”
Hae Joon’s expression softened. “Do you remember where you last saw your parents?”
The boy’s face scrunched up as he shook his head. “I don’t remember, Big Brother.”
Keeping his calm, Hae Joon patted the boy’s head reassuringly. “Alright then, let’s wait here. I’m sure they’re looking for you, too. Let’s stay put so they can find you.”
About twenty minutes passed as they shared a matcha ice cream from a nearby stall. Then, a frantic-looking couple came rushing over. The boy’s mother hugged him tightly, tears streaming down her face as she scolded him between sobs. The boy nodded, sniffling out apologies.
Watching the reunion stirred something bittersweet in Hae Joon. He felt a pang of envy. What would it be like to have parents like that, to feel their warmth and unconditional love? He quickly brushed aside the thought. Wishing for a different life wouldn’t change anything.
The couple turned to him, bowing gratefully. “Thank you so much for helping our son.”
“It was nothing,” he replied with a modest smile. “I’m glad I could help.”
As the family walked away, Hae Joon resumed his stroll, letting his thoughts drift. He wandered into a cozy Japanese restaurant and ordered a bowl of 牛丼 Gyudon (Japanese Beef Rice Bowl) to satisfy his hunger. After finishing his meal, he took a longer route home, weaving through groups of young friends laughing and chatting, their voices blending into the lively buzz of the night.
Watching them, a shadow passed over his face. “Are friendships ever as real as they seem?” he muttered, unable to shake off a trace of bitterness. He’d learned the hard way that friends weren’t always what they appeared. Some people were only there when they wanted something; others talked behind his back while pretending to be close. And the worst kind? The manipulators, the ones who could twist the truth so subtly you questioned your own reality.
Hae Joon sighed, giving his cheeks a light slap. “Snap out of it, Kang Hae Joon. Not everyone’s like that.”
He resumed his walk home, and once there, he slipped into comfortable clothes, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and flopped onto his bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he began listing tomorrow’s tasks aloud.
“Alright, tomorrow I need to wake up early, get some exercise, shower, finish that coding project, go grocery shopping…”
His voice trailed off. He sighed. “Is there anything fun to do besides work?” he muttered to himself. “It’d be nice to have someone to talk to… or maybe a partner. Imagine cooking together, sharing a good laugh… or just a simple kiss…”
He chuckled at the thought, covering his face in embarrassment. Slowly, the ticking of the wall clock lulled him to sleep, his thoughts finally quieting as he drifted into a peaceful slumber.
"Young Master, please, let’s go back. If the Lord finds out you snuck out while grounded, I’ll be the one punished.”
“Relax, Hong Si-Wan. If anything happens, I’ll protect you... even if it means facing my father.”
“But—”
“Shh!” He motioned to his servant with a finger to his lips. “One more sound and the guards will find us.”
Lowering his voice to a whisper, Si-Wan leaned in. “So, where are you off to, Young Master?”
The young man’s eyes lit up. “To meet Park Da-Yeon at the bridge. I miss her.”
Si-Wan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “When did you arrange this? You’ve been grounded for two weeks straight, Young Master!”
“We didn’t plan it in advance. We simply promised… if there’s moonlight, we’ll meet beneath it.”
Si-Wan couldn’t hide a small smile. “I had no idea you were such a romantic, Young Master. Truly, it makes me happy for you.”
The young master looked over at Si-Wan, clearly moved. “Even in the future, if I marry Da-Yeon and have children, you will always be more than just a loyal servant to me. You’re my trusted friend, my brother. Nothing will change that.”
Si-Wan’s eyes softened. “Young Master, I feel the same. You’re not just the lord I serve… you’re my friend, my brother. I would give my life to protect you.”
The young master placed a hand on Si-Wan’s shoulder, smiling warmly. “Thank you.”
Ring, ring…
The alarm blared, yanking Hae Joon out of his sleep. He opened his eyes, his hand automatically wiping away a tear. He stopped, staring at the dampness on his fingers.
“Was I… crying?” he whispered, surprised at his own reaction. “It’s just a dream… right? So why do I feel so...” He pressed a hand to his chest, as if soothing an ache that shouldn’t be there.
After a moment, he shook his head, brushing off the strange emotions that lingered. There was no use getting lost in a dream. He had things to do and a full day to tackle ahead.
Tap, tap, tap. The steady rhythm of typing filled the room as he worked at his computer.
14:46 p.m.
“Whoa, I need to hurry,” he muttered, glancing at the time. “It’s almost the deadline… Alright, let’s double-check the code, run the program, and make sure everything’s solid.”
After a final review, he typed a new message:
"Hello Ms. Satou. I've completed and submitted the updated .EXE file. Please take a look and let me know if there's anything else I can help with for this project."
…SATOU HIROMI has read your message…
Twenty minutes later, her reply popped up.
…Satou Hiromi is typing…
“Hello Mr. Kang. I’ve checked the file, and everything is running perfectly. Thank you so much for your hard work, Mr. Kang.”
He smiled and quickly replied, “Glad to hear it, Ms. Satou. Please don’t forget to rate and review my gig. Wishing you all the best.”
“I’ll do that, Mr. Kang. Thank you again! I’ll definitely be back for your services next time.”
Satisfied, Hae Joon leaned back and scrolled through the UPPWOKK job dashboard, scanning for new projects he could jump on. As he perused listings, his mind drifted back to his plans for the day.
16:25 p.m.
Finally, he stretched and rose from his gaming chair, glancing at the time. Groceries time, he reminded himself, heading out to tackle the last item on his to-do list.
The train station bustled with the late afternoon crowd. Commuters hurried past, adjusting scarves and jackets against the cool breeze, with snippets of conversations and distant announcements merging into a constant hum. Emerging from the train, Hae Joon looked exhausted, his thoughts already shifting to the grocery list and the supermarket just across the street.
A familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Kang Hae Joon! Kang Hae Joon!” It was Marcus Chen, waving and weaving through the crowd, his enthusiasm almost too bright.
Hae Joon turned, forcing a polite smile. “Marcus… Hey.” His tone was cautious, tinged with reluctance.
Marcus reached him, all warmth and smiles. “Man, it’s been ages! Out of all places, we run into each other here?” He clapped Hae Joon on the shoulder. “How’ve you been?”
Hae Joon took a small step back, subtly shrugging off Marcus’s hand. “Busy. Life’s… keeping me on my toes.” He shifted, eyes darting to the station clock.
“Same old Hae Joon,” Marcus said, his grin widening as he tried to pull Hae Joon into conversation. “What’s keeping you so occupied?”
Hae Joon hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Work, mostly. Keeping things on track.” He looked toward the exit, hoping to signal his hurry. “What about you?”
“Oh, you know me... always got something cooking.” Marcus smirked, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “You’re not still at that freelance gig, are you? You’re meant for more than that.”
Hae Joon kept his tone steady, resisting the bait. “It pays the bills, Marcus. That’s enough for me right now.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Marcus chuckled dismissively, “Still thinking small? Don’t tell me you’ve given up on your dreams.” His eyes narrowed, probing. “What happened to that ambition? The plans we used to talk about?”
Holding back his frustration, Hae Joon forced a smile. “Plans change. People change. I’ve got different priorities now.”
Marcus leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Look, I know things didn’t end great last time, but I’ve turned over a new leaf. Real opportunities, Hae Joon. No strings attached.”
At “no strings,” Hae Joon felt a chill. “I appreciate the offer, but like I said, I’m busy.” He glanced at his watch, hoping Marcus would take the hint. “I’ve got errands.”
Marcus rolled his eyes, letting out a theatrical sigh. “Errands? You’re really going to turn down an opportunity for errands?” He shook his head, his tone faintly condescending. “That’s not the Hae Joon I remember. When did you stop taking risks?”
Hae Joon decided to be direct. “Sometimes, risks aren’t worth the fallout.” He met Marcus’s gaze, firm and unyielding. “I’ve learned that.”
Marcus’s smile faded slightly, his tone sharpening. “So, you’re just going to play it safe forever? Stay in the same routine, no chances?”
Hae Joon held his ground. “I’m okay with my routine, Marcus. It’s predictable. And that’s what I need right now.” He took a sidestep, aiming for the exit. “Good seeing you, but I really do have things to take care of.”
Still blocking his path, Marcus leaned closer. “Hae Joon, what if I told you this was different? No schemes. Just a real opportunity.” He paused, searching Hae Joon’s face.
Hae Joon didn’t waver. “Marcus, I think we both know there’s always more to it. Right now, I need to keep moving forward, and that means handling my own life, my own way.” He softened his tone, hoping to avoid a scene. “I hope you understand.”
Marcus held his gaze, then forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, sure. I get it. Playing it safe.” His laugh was dry, almost mocking. “Just don’t come crying to me when you get tired of that ‘safe’ little life.”
Hae Joon nodded slowly, absorbing the jab. “Thanks for the warning.” With that, he moved toward the exit.
Marcus’s voice followed him, a sharp edge creeping in. “Hae Joon, don’t forget what I said! It’s not too late.”
Without turning back, Hae Joon raised a hand in a quick wave. “Take care, Marcus.” Pushing through the crowd, he felt the weight of the conversation lift as he neared the supermarket across the street, focusing on the comforting simplicity of his grocery list.
Hae Joon’s apartment was a modest yet inviting space, the kind that felt like a sanctuary after a long day. The small kitchen, with its basic utensils and cozy counter, welcomed him home. Just back from the supermarket, he balanced two bags of groceries in his arms.
He dropped the bags onto the counter and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension that clung to him like a second skin. It was nearly 7:00 PM, and the sky outside had deepened into a rich shade of blue. Taking a slow, calming breath, he attempted to let the serenity of his apartment wash over him. But Marcus’s voice from earlier at the station echoed in his mind, buzzing like a persistent fly.
As he began unpacking the groceries, pulling out fresh vegetables, meat, and rice, he muttered to himself, “Of all the people to run into…”
Reaching for the cutting board, he grabbed a knife and started slicing garlic. The steady rhythm of chopping usually grounded him, but tonight it felt like he was trying to carve away the nagging thoughts that crept into his mind.
Turning on the stove, he watched the oil shimmer as it heated up. 'Why does Marcus always speak like that?' Hae Joon wondered. “As if he’s offering something you can’t refuse, even when you know you should.”
The garlic hit the pan with a sharp sizzle, releasing a familiar aroma that filled the small kitchen. Focusing on the scent, he tried to anchor himself in the present, momentarily pushing aside memories of Marcus’s relentless grin. He added sliced pork and chili peppers, listening to the hiss and crackle of the ingredients mingling in the heat.
Marcus’s voice echoed in his mind: “You can’t just keep playing it safe, Hae Joon. Life doesn’t work like that.”
“Who says I’m playing it safe?” Hae Joon muttered, his voice swallowed by the rising steam. He shook his head, irritated by how easily Marcus’s words managed to invade his thoughts. Sprinkling soy sauce over the meat, he stirred with more force than necessary. The kitchen filled with a mouth-watering aroma, sharp and spicy, cutting through his lingering frustration.
The rice cooker beeped, signaling it was ready, and Hae Joon served himself a plate of fluffy rice alongside the spicy stir-fried pork. He settled at the small dining table, taking a moment to breathe deeply before his first bite. The heat from the chili ignited a warmth in his mouth, bringing a much-needed sense of relief. He preferred his food spicy; it kept him anchored in reality, offering something tangible to focus on.
Yet, even as he ate, his thoughts drifted back to Marcus. There was a time when he had considered Marcus a close friend. They spent weekends dreaming up ambitious projects and scheming for big breaks. But with every idea Marcus pitched, something always felt off… an ulterior motive hiding just beneath the surface that Hae Joon couldn’t see until it was too late. He had lost money and nearly his job due to one of those ventures, but what stung most was the erosion of his trust.
Hae Joon sighed, pushing the last bite around on his plate. “Why did I even stop to talk?” he murmured, shaking his head. He should have known better.
After finishing his meal, he washed the dishes with deliberate slowness, relishing the sensation of hot water on his hands. The simple routine helped clear his mind, allowing the day to slip away bit by bit.
Once the kitchen was tidy, Hae Joon headed to the bathroom. The shower water was warm, almost too hot, but he let it cascade over his shoulders, leaning against the tiled wall with closed eyes. Steam enveloped him, and for a moment, the world outside faded. He wanted to wash away the residue Marcus always left behind... a thin film he couldn’t quite scrub off.
“Don’t come crying to me when you’re tired of playing it safe,” Marcus’s voice taunted him, even in the steam.
“Who’s crying?” Hae Joon mumbled, turning his head to let the water hit his face. He tried to visualize Marcus’s voice dissipating into the vapor, but it lingered stubbornly.
When he finally stepped out, the cool air bit at his damp skin. He dried off quickly, pulling on an old T-shirt and shorts. In the bedroom, he sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, letting the sounds of the city drift through his cracked window... a passing car, a distant conversation. It was all oddly comforting.
He picked up his phone and scrolled aimlessly through social media, not really reading anything, just letting the motion of his thumb fill the silence. But it wasn’t enough to drown out his thoughts.
“Why couldn’t Marcus just let things be?” he wondered. It was as if Marcus needed to control everything, even their conversations, even their silence.
Eventually, Hae Joon set his phone down and programmed his alarm for the next morning. He lay back, pulling the blanket up to his chest. Staring at the ceiling, he felt a mix of frustration and pity for Marcus… frustration at his persistent arrogance and pity for the person he once considered a friend.
“Just let it go,” Hae Joon whispered to the empty room, hoping that saying it aloud might lighten the load. He closed his eyes, letting the cool night air soothe his weary mind.
Slowly, sleep began to pull him away from the day’s events, from Marcus’s voice, from everything. And for the first time since leaving the station, he felt a flicker of peace.
The Dream
Night had settled over the Han family manor, a heavy blanket of tension suffocating the air. Si Wan, through his network of spies, had learned of a treacherous conspiracy against the Prime Minister’s family. The Queen, in a desperate bid to secure her son’s claim to the throne, plotted to eliminate the Prime Minister's influence by accusing him of treason and ordering his execution by dawn. As aide to Han Tae-Seo, the Prime Minister’s son and the King’s nephew, Si Wan raced against time to deliver the warning.
The streets of Hanyang lay cloaked in darkness, the moon casting a pale, silver light over the rooftops. Si Wan sprinted through the narrow alleys, each breath coming in shallow bursts, his feet barely touching the ground. Fear and urgency propelled him forward, his heartbeat drowning out the distant murmur of crickets.
Earlier that night, a servant in the Queen’s private quarters had slipped him a message sealed with a crimson wax stamp: Treason. The Han family to be taken down. The weight of those words threatened to crush him, yet Si Wan steeled himself against hesitation.
As he approached the Han family manor, the iron-wrought gate loomed ominously in the darkness. The guards straightened at the sight of him, hands instinctively moving to their swords.
Guard 1, stern and suspicious: “Halt! Who goes there?”
Si Wan, urgency lacing his voice as he held up a royal insignia: “Si Wan, aide to Han Tae-Seo. I bring urgent news for the young master.”
The guards exchanged wary glances before parting to let him pass. Si Wan rushed through, lantern light casting fleeting shadows across his face. As he crossed the courtyard, an unsettling stillness hung in the air, a quiet that felt dreadfully out of place. He reached Han Tae-Seo’s quarters, his breath heavy, pulse racing.
Without knocking, Si Wan pushed the door open. Inside, Han Tae-Seo sat at a desk, a scroll unfurled before him. Their eyes met, and the gravity of the intrusion passed silently between them. Flickering candlelight illuminated Tae-Seo’s face, highlighting the tension in the air.
Han Tae-Seo, his demeanor calm yet commanding: “Si Wan, what is the meaning of this?”
Si Wan dropped to one knee, bowing his head, struggling to articulate the weight of his news.
Si Wan, voice taut with urgency: “Young Master… it is the Queen. She has accused your father of treason. The palace has decreed an execution by dawn.”
Tae-Seo’s expression shifted, brow furrowing in disbelief. The silence stretched, so profound that even the crackle of candle flames seemed muted.
Han Tae-Seo, leaning forward, voice low and intense: “How do you know this, Si Wan?”
Si Wan, unwavering as he met Tae-Seo’s gaze: “My spies within the Queen’s chambers intercepted her plans. They’re moving swiftly, and the execution will occur before first light. Young Master, we must act now.”
Tae-Seo stood abruptly, the force of his movement toppling the ink bottle on his desk. Black ink spilled across the parchment like a creeping shadow, an inescapable stain. He turned toward the window, realization hardening his features.
Han Tae-Seo, voice barely above a whisper: “The Queen… She fears my father’s loyalty to the third prince.”
The mention of the third prince, a child born to one of the King’s concubines but regarded highly by the Prime Minister, ignited a fierce urgency in Tae-Seo. He had known the stakes of their loyalty but had underestimated the Queen’s ruthlessness.
Si Wan, voice firm and urgent: “Young Master, by morning, guards will be sent. They will come for you, your father, your mother, even the servants and children of the household. We must leave the city tonight and take your family to safety.”
Tae-Seo turned, fury etched on his face mingled with a deep-seated pain. He reached for the sword mounted on the wall, fingers brushing the hilt as if seeking strength from its cold metal.
Tae-Seo, voice cold yet determined: “And where would we go, Si Wan? The Queen’s reach extends beyond the city walls.”
Si Wan stepped closer, his voice low but resolute: “There are allies, Young Master. Your father’s closest retainers... loyal men who would protect your family. We need only to buy time, regroup, and strike back.”
Tae-Seo hesitated, conflict flashing in his eyes. He searched Si Wan’s face for doubt but found none. Si Wan’s loyalty was forged not merely from duty but from years of brotherhood, shared hardships, and small victories in a world rife with betrayal.
Han Tae-Seo, gripping his sword tightly, voice soft yet determined: “If I abandon this city, I risk being branded a coward and a traitor.”
Si Wan, pleading, his voice almost a whisper: “Young Master, if you stay, the Queen’s words will seal your fate. You must live to fight back... to reclaim what has been unjustly taken.”
Tae-Seo closed his eyes, and in that moment, Si Wan glimpsed not a nobleman wrestling with duty but a son terrified for his family’s lives. When Tae-Seo opened his eyes, they burned with cold resolve.
Han Tae-Seo, voice steady, decision made: “Wake the household. Gather only what is necessary. We leave within the hour.”
Relief washed over Si Wan, yet he knew this was merely the beginning. He bowed low before rushing out. The stillness of the manor was replaced by hushed urgency... servants whispered, doors creaked open, and horses were saddled in haste.
In the courtyard, Si Wan glanced up at the sky. The moon was waning, its pale light barely illuminating the path ahead, yet it felt brighter somehow, as if granting them a fleeting moment of clarity.
As Si Wan mounted his horse, the weight of the night’s events settled in his bones. There was no time for reflection; the palace was a serpent’s den, and the Queen’s ambitions knew no bounds. But tonight, he had managed to pull the Han family from the jaws of betrayal.
As the gates of the manor creaked open and the Han family began their escape into the darkened streets, Si Wan silently vowed: “This is not the end... it’s only the beginning.”
05:08 A.M
Kang Hae Joon jolted awake, momentarily paralyzed by the remnants of his dream. What had it meant? The images swirled in his mind, incoherent and disconcerting. He glanced at the clock, noting the early hour, the world outside still shrouded in darkness.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded softly toward the kitchen, seeking solace in the familiar space. Sitting at the table, he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to gather his scattered thoughts. The kettle hissed to life, and he busied himself preparing a cup of coffee, hoping its warmth would ease the unsettling feelings that clung to him like a fog.
As dawn broke, washing the sky with delicate shades of orange and pink, Hae Joon stood at the entrance of his apartment, lacing up his sneakers. The clock was creeping closer to 6:00 A.M. Instead of succumbing to the allure of another cup of coffee, he stepped outside, the chill of the morning air invigorating him. “Just a quick run,” he murmured, convincing himself that the rhythm of jogging would shake off the remnants of the dream.
But as he began to jog, the dream resurfaced, relentless and vivid.
His feet pounded against the pavement, a steady rhythm that contrasted with the chaos in his mind. “What was it about that dream?” he wondered, grappling with images that felt all too real. The Han family manor loomed large in his thoughts, its darkened halls echoing with danger. “You can’t let this get to you,” he whispered, trying to drown out the haunting memories that flared to life with each stride.
The whispers returned, heavy with implications... conspiracy, betrayal, execution. “It’s just a dream,” he told himself repeatedly, but the urgency of Si Wan’s voice echoed insistently. “This is real, Hae Joon. You must pay attention.” His heart raced, beating faster than his running.
As he navigated the quiet streets, he focused on the sound of his footsteps, a mantra in the solitude. “One foot in front of the other. Keep moving.” Yet with each turn, memories flooded back... Si Wan’s piercing gaze, the flickering candlelight, the palpable tension thick in the air.
“Why can’t I just enjoy this run?” he fumed internally, frustration boiling over. “Why can’t I escape this dream?” He pushed himself harder, desperate to outrun the memories, but they clung to him like shadows, refusing to be left behind.
When he finally returned home, the shower’s warm cascade did little to wash away the thoughts that plagued him. “It was just a dream,” he repeated, yet the nagging doubts persisted. The images of a queen’s plotting against the prime minister gnawed at his conscience. “Could this mean something? Am I meant to do something?”
After drying off, he slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, opening the UPPWOKK job dashboard on his laptop. The job listings blurred into an indecipherable mess. “Virtual assistant… Sales executive… Who cares?” he muttered, scrolling absentmindedly. “You’re wasting time, Hae Joon.”
Even the sizzling of scrambled eggs failed to lure him back to reality. “What are you doing? You have a future to plan, not to dwell in dreams!” he chastised himself, pushing the fork through the food in frustration.
Brunch morphed into a haze of absent-minded chewing and wandering thoughts. Physically present yet mentally miles away, he grappled with the dream’s echoes. “Why do I feel so unsettled?” he mused, exasperated. “This isn’t like me.”
Lunch drifted by, and Hae Joon found himself pacing the kitchen, sunlight streaming through the window, warming his skin but failing to penetrate the chill that had settled inside him. “Let it go,” he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud would alleviate the pressure weighing down his mind.
Yet deep within, he understood the dream was more than a fleeting vision; it was a warning of something brewing beneath the surface, an impending storm he couldn’t ignore. “This isn’t over,” he thought, casting a glance out the window at the bustling streets below, feeling as if he stood on the precipice of something momentous.
With a resigned sigh, he picked up his phone again, scrolling aimlessly. The weight of the dream hung heavily on his chest. “Whatever comes next, I need to be prepared,” he vowed silently. As the day wore on, the echoes of his dream loomed large, propelling him toward an uncertain future.
As night fell over the city, Hae Joon sank into his bed, exhaustion finally catching up with him. He stared at the ceiling, replaying the day’s unproductive hours. A part of him longed for sleep, yet another part remained vigilant, wary of what awaited him in the dream world.
The same haunting dream returned, as if fate had tethered them together:
“Young Master, you must run now! I’ll hold off the pursuers!” Si Wan’s voice was strained but resolute.
“No! I won’t leave you behind! I can’t…”
“Listen! If you don’t go, we’ll both die here. I can’t protect you while fighting. You need to escape!”
“But... if I leave, you’ll be…”
"I’ll be fine! I promise. Once you’re safe, I’ll follow you. But you have to trust me!”
Han Tae-Seo felt a wave of despair wash over him; he knew Hong Si Wan had resigned himself to this fate.
Han Tae-Seo embraced Hong Si-Wan, then he suddenly began chanting in an otherworldly language that seemed to resonate with the wind itself, causing a gust to whip around them, as if granting them a final blessing.
"Fine, I’ll go. But promise me you’ll find a way back to me,” Tae Seo said, voice trembling.
"I swear it, Young Master. No matter what happens, I’ll come back to you,” Si Wan replied, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
With a heavy heart, Han Tae-Seo forced a smile, bowing deeply, his words hanging in the air like an unbreakable bond.
"Farewell, my dear servant, my best friend, and my brother. Until we meet again.”
Tears streamed down from Si Wan's cheeks as he watched his Young Master 'Han Tae-Seo' retreated into the darkness. He prostrated himself, whispering,
"Farewell, my brother, my best friend, and my dear beloved prince. May your journey be filled with light and your path lead to safety.”
Si Wan stood firm in the narrow alley, his sword clashing against the relentless blows of the queen's soldiers. Blood seeped from multiple wounds, but he refused to yield. The Young Master’s silhouette grew distant, safety almost within reach. One soldier lunged, and Si Wan deflected the strike, but another blade pierced his stomach.
Gasping, he collapsed to his knees, his vision blurring, but he managed a smile, his thoughts only on the young master he’d sworn to protect.
“Farewell… my beloved prince,” he whispered as darkness enveloped him.
Suddenly, an overwhelming rush of visions crashed into Hae Joon's mind, memories from his past life surging forth.
As the pain exploded in his head, Hae Joon screamed, the sound piercing the silence of the night. Yet moments later, calmness washed over him. But something had changed; he appeared transformed. His expression bore a dignified composure as if Hong Si-Wan’s essence had overtaken him.
"Young Master... I don’t fully understand how is this even possible, but I will search for you and return, no matter what. In this world, you are the only one I truly have. I hope we meet again soon," Hae Joon murmured, his face serious, yet resolute in determination.