Chapter Text
The lake had been perfectly still only a second ago.
Its surface mirrored the forest surrounding it, every dark green branch and slender trunk reflected beneath the water as clearly as if another forest were growing upside down in the depths. The afternoon sun hung high overhead, warm and almost painfully bright.
Then the lake cracked. Not like water breaking beneath a falling stone. Not like ice. Like glass. A sharp fracture raced across the surface, splitting the reflection of the sky into crooked pieces. For one impossible instant, the entire lake looked like a gigantic mirror someone had struck with a hammer.
The crack spread farther. Then the water opened. Something moved beneath it. A hand broke through first. Then a head.
A young man burst from the lake with a desperate gasp, immediately coughing so hard his entire body shook. He swallowed a mouthful of water and tried to breathe, but his lungs seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to do. Panic took over before thought could catch up.
He began thrashing toward the shore. His arms felt heavy. His clothes dragged at him, soaked through and clinging to his skin. He could barely tell which way was up, which way was shore, which way was anywhere at all. The surface blurred in front of his eyes as he fought against the water, and for several terrifying seconds he was certain he would sink again.
Then his fingers scraped against the lakebed. Sand. Shallow water. He crawled forward, dragging himself onto the shore, and remained there on his hands and knees, coughing until his chest burned.
For a while, he could do nothing except breathe. His heart hammered against his ribs. He lifted his head. Forest. Water. Sunlight. Nothing else. No road. No voices. No houses. No cars. No distant hum of an engine or airplane overhead. Only the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional movement of branches in the wind.
He slowly pushed himself upright. And then, quite suddenly, a name came to him.
Hongjoong.
That was his name. He knew it with absolute certainty. But that was all. He didn't know how old he was. He didn't know where he lived. He didn't know where he had been before the lake, or why he had been in it in the first place. He couldn't remember a face, a place, a conversation, a single complete moment from his life.
Nothing.
Only his name. And the headache. It arrived almost immediately after the realization, sharp enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut. Hongjoong pressed both hands against his temples and waited for the pain to subside. It didn't. Instead, something flickered behind his eyelids. A room. White light. A voice. A beeping sound. Then darkness.
His eyes snapped open. The memory was gone. It was like trying to hold smoke in his hands. The harder he reached for it, the faster it slipped between his fingers, leaving only the faintest impression that there had been something there at all.
Another fragment came. A city at night. Glass. Thousands of lights reflected against wet pavement. A hand reaching toward him-
Gone.
Hongjoong staggered backward.
"People," he whispered.
The word seemed strangely reassuring. There had to be people somewhere. Someone would know where he was. Someone would help him. A hospital, perhaps. A police station. A town. Anything.
He stood and looked around. The lake wasn't particularly large. Beyond it, the forest thinned into gently rolling land covered mostly by beech trees. It was strangely peaceful. Almost too peaceful.
Then he saw them.Thin columns of smoke rising above the treetops in the distance. A settlement.
Hongjoong stared at it for a moment before making up his mind. He had no idea who he was. He had no idea where he was. But if there were people over there, perhaps they could tell him.
And beneath all the confusion, there was another feeling he couldn't explain. A certainty. He was supposed to go somewhere. He didn't know where. He didn't know why. But he was not here by accident.
The thought was so strong that he almost expected someone to whisper the destination into his ear. Nothing came. So Hongjoong started walking.
───
It took him nearly an hour to reach the settlement.
The land was mostly flat, and the walk should have been easy, but Hongjoong's body felt as though it had been emptied of strength. His wet clothes had begun to dry against his skin, leaving him cold and uncomfortable. His bare hands were scratched from the lakebed, and every few minutes he stopped to look down at them as if they might tell him something.
They didn't.
Every attempt to remember his past ended the same way. A flash. A sensation. Nothing more.
Once, he remembered the smell of coffee. Another time, the sound of an elevator. Then the image of a microphone.
That one stayed with him for several seconds longer. Music.
Hongjoong frowned. He couldn't remember whether he played music, listened to it, or merely happened to be standing somewhere where it was playing.
The thought vanished before he could catch it.
The settlement appeared gradually through the trees.
At first, Hongjoong saw only rooftops. Then chimneys. Then narrow paths between houses.
Finally, he stepped out of the forest and found himself looking down into a small valley. Dozens of wooden houses were scattered across it, most of them no taller than a single floor. Their roofs were covered with straw, and bunches of herbs and mushrooms hung from ropes beneath the eaves to dry in the sun. Wooden signs marked various shops, though Hongjoong couldn't recognize some of the symbols carved into them.
People moved through the streets. Men carrying sacks. Women carrying baskets. Children running between houses. Two elderly men arguing beside a wall. A group of young people laughing as they carried crates toward one of the buildings.
It was ordinary. That was what calmed him. For the first time since waking up, Hongjoong felt his shoulders loosen. There were people here. He was not alone.
Then someone noticed him. A woman standing outside one of the houses froze. Her eyes traveled from his wet clothes to his face. Something changed in her expression. Not surprise. Not exactly.
Fear.
Hongjoong frowned. The woman lowered her gaze and hurried inside. A man passing behind her noticed him too. He slowed. His eyes lingered on Hongjoong for a moment before he quietly said something to the person beside him.
Hongjoong couldn't make out the words. The other person looked at him. Then both of them walked away.
Hongjoong glanced down at himself. His clothes were soaked and probably looked ridiculous, but surely that wasn't enough to frighten people.
He continued walking. The longer he stayed, the more often it happened. People looked. Then pretended they hadn't. A few exchanged quiet words. One elderly man saw him and immediately made a small gesture with his fingers against his chest.
Hongjoong noticed. The man noticed Hongjoong noticing and quickly turned away.
Uneasiness settled in Hongjoong's stomach. He passed a small market stall.
There were vegetables, bread, jars of dried herbs and several slabs of dark meat hanging beneath a wooden awning.
He looked around. Something was missing. He couldn't immediately say what. Then it came to him.
There were no animals. Hongjoong slowed. That was strange. Very strange.
Before he could think about it any further, someone behind him whispered: "Lake."
Hongjoong turned. Three people were standing near a doorway. The moment their eyes met his, they fell silent.
"Did you say lake?"
No answer. Hongjoong stared at them. The three people suddenly became very interested in whatever they had been doing before he arrived.
He continued walking. A few minutes later, his headache returned. This time it came with a stronger memory. A road. A white line. A red light. Headlights. A woman's voice. "Hongjoong!"
He spun around. Nobody stood behind him. His heart was beating too fast. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
There was something he needed to do. Something more important than finding out who he had been. He didn't know what it was yet. But he was certain of one thing. He needed to leave this place. The thought came with such conviction that it frightened him.
Go home. Home. The word itself felt foreign. Where was home?
And, perhaps more importantly — where was here?
───
He found the tavern almost by accident. It was the only stone building in the entire settlement, its dark walls standing out among the wooden houses. Above the entrance hung a wooden sign painted with faded letters:
JO & MIA'S TAVERN
Music spilled through the closed door. Laughter followed. Hongjoong hesitated. Then he pushed it open.
The entire tavern went silent. Not gradually. Instantly.
The musicians stopped in the middle of a song.
A glass remained halfway to someone's mouth. A woman carrying a tray froze between tables. Dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Hongjoong stood in the doorway. For one strange second, nobody moved. Then the musician nearest the wall lowered his gaze. Someone cleared their throat. The bartender said, far too loudly: "Well, don't just stand there."
The spell broke. Music resumed. Conversation returned. The woman with the tray started walking again. The tavern came alive as if nothing had happened.
Hongjoong stared. He wasn't sure whether the silence had really happened. Maybe strangers appearing at their door were simply unusual here. Maybe he was imagining things.
He stepped inside. The atmosphere was warm and crowded. Men drank ale beside wooden tables while plates of meat and vegetables disappeared beneath hungry hands. Women in corsets and long skirts moved between the tables, carrying food and drinks. In one corner, three young musicians played instruments Hongjoong couldn't immediately identify.
It looked like something from a medieval painting. Or one of those fantasy novels-
The thought stopped him. Fantasy. Hongjoong looked around again. Something was wrong. He couldn't explain how he knew.
There were no electric lights. No phones. No screens. No refrigerators humming behind the bar. No cars outside. No speakers hidden somewhere in the walls. And yet the people weren't dressed for a historical reenactment.
They behaved as if this were simply their world. His headache sharpened. Then another fragment surfaced. A city Not this one. A city made of concrete and glass, buildings rising so high they disappeared into the clouds. Crowds of people carrying glowing rectangles in their hands. Neon advertisements. Cars packed together on enormous roads. Music. Electronic music. A bar with colored lights.
Hongjoong gripped the edge of a table. His breathing became shallow. That was real. He knew it was. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. His world had skyscrapers. His world had electricity. His world had technology. This place did not.
Hongjoong looked toward the tavern's windows. Outside, someone was walking down a dirt road carrying a bundle of firewood.
His stomach dropped. He had somehow ended up in a place that shouldn't exist.
Or perhaps it wasn't his world anymore. He swallowed. He needed answers.
He approached the bar.
"Good afternoon."
A broad-shouldered bartender looked up at him. Hongjoong opened his mouth. And realized he had absolutely no idea what to say next.
The bartender studied him. His gaze lingered on Hongjoong's wet sleeves. Then his face. Then, briefly, his eyes. Something about that last look made Hongjoong uncomfortable.
"Welcome," the bartender said.
His voice was strangely calm.
"Here to have a drink, go home, or move on?"
Hongjoong stared at him.
Something about the question felt wrong.
"I..." Hongjoong glanced around. "Probably have a drink. And I suppose I'd like to go home. But I don't have any money."
The bartender's expression softened.
"That's all right."
He poured a dark ale and slid it across the counter.
"First one's on the house."
Hongjoong took the mug cautiously, drank twice, then set it down.
The drink tasted unfamiliar, but good.
"As for going home," the bartender continued, "you'll want a Guide."
Hongjoong frowned.
"A Guide?"
"Someone who knows the roads."
"Where?"
The bartender paused. Hongjoong noticed it this time. That hesitation. It was tiny. But it was there.
"To the Gates," the bartender finally said.
"What gates?"
The bartender's eyes flicked toward the ceiling. Then toward the windows.
"You're asking a lot of questions for someone who doesn't even know where he is."
"I woke up in a lake."
"I know."
Hongjoong went still.
The bartender's face remained perfectly neutral.
"You know?"
The man gave a small shrug.
"People who come out of the lake aren't exactly difficult to recognize."
Hongjoong looked toward the nearest tables. A few people were no longer talking. He couldn't prove they were listening. But he had the distinct feeling they were.
"I'm sorry," Hongjoong said slowly, "but you seem to understand this better than I do." He leaned closer. "Where am I?"
The bartender didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at Hongjoong for a long moment. Then he said:
"You're in a place we call Limbo."
Hongjoong frowned. He had heard that word before. He knew what it meant. Or at least, he thought he did. His pulse began to quicken. "Are you saying I'm dead?"
The bartender's expression changed. Only slightly.
"No."
Hongjoong blinked.
"No?"
"I said you're in Limbo. I didn't say you're dead."
"Then what the hell am I doing here?"
That earned him the faintest hint of amusement.
"
That's a better question."
The bartender leaned against the counter.
"Tell me something first. Did you come out of the lake?"
Hongjoong slowly nodded.
"Yes."
"Then you're one of the lucky ones."
Hongjoong almost laughed.
"Nothing about today has felt particularly lucky."
"You're still breathing."
"So?"
"That matters here."
The bartender lowered his voice.
"The lake brings people whose bodies are still alive in the world of the living."
Hongjoong stopped breathing for a moment.
"What?"
"Your body is somewhere out there."
The words should have relieved him. Instead, they terrified him.
"Then why am I here?"
"Because something happened to it."
"What?"
The bartender's eyes softened.
"Your body is very close to dying."
Hongjoong's mouth went dry. The tavern seemed to become strangely quiet around him.
"How close?"
"We don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No one here can see your world from here."
Hongjoong gripped the edge of the bar.
"So I'm dying."
"Not necessarily."
"But you just said-"
"I said you're close."
The bartender pointed toward the mountains visible beyond the distant rooftops.
"If your body survives, a Guide can take you to the Gates. If you pass through them, you'll return to your body."
Hongjoong stared toward the mountains.
"And if it doesn't?"
The bartender didn't answer immediately.
Hongjoong already knew.
"If your body dies while you're here," the man said eventually, "there will be nothing to return to."
"And then?"
"Then you can pass through the Gates and be reborn."
"Reborn?"
"A new life. A new body."
Hongjoong gave a disbelieving laugh.
"This is insane."
The bartender shrugged.
"You've already come out of a lake into a place that shouldn't exist. I'd say you've moved past the point where insane is particularly useful."
Hongjoong almost laughed. Almost. Instead, another question occurred to him.
"What happens if someone doesn't want to be reborn?"
The bartender looked at him.
For the first time, something resembling genuine sadness appeared in his eyes.
"They stay."
"Here?"
"Here."
"Forever?"
"Some do."
The answer was strangely vague. Hongjoong looked around the tavern. The people here seemed alive. They drank, laughed, argued, flirted. But now that he knew what the place was, something about them seemed different. Too calm. Too accustomed.
"Why would anyone stay in a place like this?"
The bartender smiled faintly. "Not everyone has somewhere worth going back to."
Hongjoong didn't know what to say. His headache was becoming unbearable again. There was too much information. Limbo. Death. Rebirth. A body somewhere in the world of the living. A gate in the mountains.
And yet none of it answered the question that mattered most. Who was he? He forced himself to focus.
"Where can I find these Guides?"
The bartender's eyes shifted toward the far end of the room. This time Hongjoong followed his gaze. A group of young men sat around a table. They were laughing. Or pretending to. One of them looked toward the bar. Their eyes met. The man's expression changed for an instant. Then he turned away. The bartender raised his voice.
"Seonghwa!" The laughter at the table stopped.
"Got another comatose one for you."
Hongjoong frowned.
"A what?"
Nobody answered him. A chair scraped against the floor. Someone stood. A young man approached the bar. He wore dark leather clothing fitted for movement, with several straps crossing his chest and waist. His hair was pulled back, thin braids framing the sides of his face. A sword hung at his hip. Hongjoong stared at him. Seonghwa. The name appeared in his mind before anyone introduced him. It was beautiful. For some reason, the thought made his chest tighten.
Seonghwa stopped beside the bar. His eyes settled on Hongjoong. For a moment, neither spoke. Hongjoong couldn't explain why, but he had the strange impression that Seonghwa was looking at him not as though he were meeting a stranger but as though he were seeing something he had been expecting. Then Seonghwa's expression hardened.
"So," he said. His voice was low and somewhat unfriendly. "The boy wants to go back?"
"That's what he says."
Seonghwa leaned against the bar.
"Does the boy have anything to pay for the journey?"
Hongjoong frowned.
"The boy can speak for himself."
A few people nearby went quiet. Seonghwa looked at him. Then, unexpectedly, one corner of his mouth moved.
"Good."
Hongjoong couldn't decide whether that was better or worse.
"I don't work for free," Seonghwa added.
"Of course you don't."
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow.
"You're welcome to walk to the Gates yourself."
Hongjoong stared at him.
"Do you always treat your customers like this?"
"You're not a customer yet."
"Then what am I?"
Something unreadable passed over Seonghwa's face.
"That's something you'll figure out."
Hongjoong disliked him immediately. He couldn't explain why. Perhaps it was the arrogance. Perhaps it was the way Seonghwa kept looking at him as though he knew something Hongjoong didn't. Or perhaps Hongjoong simply didn't like being helpless.
He reached instinctively toward his pockets. Nothing. Then, something hard pressed against his side. Hongjoong froze. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a small golden object.
A watch.
He stared at it. For a second, the world disappeared. The watch was warm from his body. Old-fashioned, perhaps, but unmistakably real. The metal was scratched along the edges, and there were tiny initials engraved on the back.
He didn't remember buying it. He didn't remember receiving it. But the moment he touched it, a strange ache filled his chest. Grandfather. The word came to him. That was all. No face. No voice. Only the certainty that the watch had belonged to his grandfather. It was the most precious thing he possessed.
"I have this," Hongjoong said.
Seonghwa's eyes immediately dropped to the watch.
The reaction was so quick Hongjoong noticed.
He held it out.
"My grandfather's. It's the most valuable thing I have. Would it be enough?"
Seonghwa didn't take it immediately. His eyes remained on the gold. Something shifted in his expression. Not greed. Something closer to recognition. Hongjoong's fingers tightened around the watch.
"You know what it is?"
Seonghwa looked up.
"No."
The answer came too quickly. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. Seonghwa reached out and took the watch.
"That'll do."
He turned it over once in his palm. His thumb brushed over the engraved initials. Then he slipped it into his pocket. Hongjoong watched him.
"You're very trusting." Seonghwa looked at him. "You gave me your most valuable possession after knowing me for less than a minute."
"Because I need to get home."
"Then don't make me regret accepting it."
Hongjoong scoffed. "You're the one taking me home."
A couple of people at a nearby table suddenly found their drinks extremely interesting. Seonghwa's jaw tightened. Then he looked at Hongjoong again.
"What's your name?"
Hongjoong hesitated. The answer should have been easy. Instead, for some reason, saying it suddenly felt important.
"Kim Hongjoong." The room went quiet again. Not completely. Not enough to be obvious. But Hongjoong heard it. A chair shifted. Someone inhaled sharply. The bartender stopped wiping the same glass.
Seonghwa's eyes flicked briefly toward him. Then toward the people behind Hongjoong.
Something passed silently between them. Hongjoong's stomach tightened.
"What?"
Seonghwa looked back at him.
"Nothing."
"That didn't look like nothing."
"You've been here for less than an hour and you're already suspicious of everyone."
"Everyone keeps staring at me."
"Maybe you're memorable."
Hongjoong looked down at his soaked clothes.
"Because I look like I crawled out of a lake?"
Seonghwa's expression didn't change.
"Something like that."
Hongjoong didn't like the answer. But before he could press him, Seonghwa stepped away from the bar.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"I'll introduce you to the others."
Hongjoong looked toward the group Seonghwa had come from.
The same men were now talking among themselves again. They didn't look at him. That somehow made Hongjoong even more uncomfortable.
"And then?"
Seonghwa opened the tavern door. The afternoon light spilled inside.
"Then we'll take you home."
Hongjoong followed. He stepped outside. Behind him, the door closed. He didn't see the bartender turn toward Seonghwa's companions, the expressions on their faces. He didn't hear the low voice from one of the tables.
"That's the one?"
The bartender answered quietly.
"Yes." A pause. "And he doesn't know?"
The bartender looked toward the closed door. "No."
Outside, Hongjoong caught up with Seonghwa.
"What exactly does 'comatose one' mean?"
Seonghwa stopped. Hongjoong nearly walked into him. Seonghwa turned. For a moment, the two stood very close. Hongjoong noticed that Seonghwa's eyes were darker up close than he had first thought.
"That's what we call people who come through the lake."
"That's a horrible name."
"Nobody here said Limbo was kind."
Hongjoong folded his arms. "And you're going to guide me to the Gates?"
"Yes."
"How long will it take?"
"Several days."
Hongjoong stared at him. "Several days?"
Seonghwa started walking again.
"Try not to die before then."
Hongjoong hurried after him.
"That was supposed to reassure me?"
"No."
"You're terrible at this."
"I've noticed."
Hongjoong glared at the back of his head. Seonghwa didn't turn around. But Hongjoong could have sworn he saw the faintest trace of a smile. It disappeared almost immediately.