Episode 3

The silence in the elder’s chamber pressed like a weight. Jisoo stood frozen, staring at the man who had just decided his fate in a single sentence.

Salvation or destruction.

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” Jisoo said finally, forcing a shaky laugh. “I’m just… me. Han Jisoo. High school student. Not a—whatever it is you think I am.”

The elder tilted his head, his silver hair gleaming faintly under the lantern light. “The Chronicle does not make mistakes.”

Jisoo threw his hands up. “Well, maybe it did this time!”

Beside him, Taeyun shifted but said nothing. His face was unreadable, but Jisoo felt those sharp eyes flicker toward him, as if weighing something.

The elder ignored his outburst. With surprising grace, he rose and walked to a scroll pinned against the wall. The parchment glowed softly, inscriptions etched in a language Jisoo couldn’t read. But then, right before his eyes, the letters twisted—shimmering into Hangul, his own language.

At the bottom of the scroll, written in bold strokes, was a name.

Han Jisoo.

Jisoo’s heart dropped into his stomach.

His name. Exactly as it should be.

The elder glanced at him, voice calm but firm. “The Chronicle marks those bound to the Balance. For every age, one name appears. This time, it is yours.”

Jisoo backed away, shaking his head. “No. No, no, no. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want this. I just—” His throat tightened. “I just wanted something different. Something more. Not… this.”

The room seemed to darken at his words.

Taeyun finally spoke. “He doesn’t understand the burden.”

The elder’s eyes softened. “He will. In time.”

Jisoo wanted to scream. None of this made sense. He was supposed to be stressing over exams, complaining about cafeteria food with Haneul, not being told he was some kind of chosen one in a glowing crystal village.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. What happens now? Am I stuck here forever? Because, newsflash, I’ve got a life back home.”

The elder studied him for a long moment before answering. “Every crossing comes with a price. If you wish to return, the Chronicle must be closed. But to close it…” His gaze flickered toward Taeyun. “…a choice will be demanded.”

Jisoo’s stomach sank. He hated the way that sounded. Like the universe had already written him into a test he hadn’t studied for.

Before he could press further, the door creaked open. A young woman entered, her long hair braided with silver threads. She bowed slightly to the elder, then glanced at Jisoo with open suspicion.

“Stray,” she muttered.

Jisoo frowned. “Excuse me?”

The elder raised a hand. “Yerim. Enough.”

Yerim’s gaze lingered, but she said no more. She set a tray of tea on the table and left, her steps light as air.

Jisoo turned back to the elder. “So what am I supposed to do? Just… sit around here while shadow-creatures try to eat me?”

“You will remain under watch,” the elder replied. His eyes slid to Taeyun. “You know the duty.”

Taeyun inclined his head once.

Jisoo blinked. “Wait—hold on. He’s supposed to babysit me?”

Taeyun didn’t react, but Jisoo swore he saw the corner of his mouth twitch. “You’ll be safer near me than anywhere else.”

“Oh, that’s comforting,” Jisoo muttered, crossing his arms.

The elder settled back into his seat. “Rest tonight. Tomorrow, you will begin to understand what it means to walk between worlds.”

---

They left the chamber in silence. The village outside had quieted, the glow of crystal homes dimming as night deepened. Lanterns floated lazily above the streets, their light gentle but watchful.

Jisoo trailed behind Taeyun, glaring at the back of his head. “So, what? You’re my bodyguard now?”

“If you want to live,” Taeyun said simply.

“You really need to work on your pep talks.”

No response. Of course.

They stopped at a smaller house near the edge of the village. Taeyun pushed open the door and gestured inside. The room was simple—low bed, woven mats, shelves lined with glass jars filled with strange herbs. A faint warmth radiated from the walls, like the house itself breathed.

“This will do,” Taeyun said.

Jisoo stepped in cautiously. “Where’s your place?”

Taeyun didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on the glowing forest beyond the window. Finally, he said, “Close enough.”

Jisoo raised a brow. “Do you always talk like a fortune cookie?”

That earned him a faint exhale. Not quite a laugh, but close.

For the first time, the silence between them wasn’t heavy. It was… something else. Something strange but not unwelcome.

Jisoo sat on the edge of the bed, his exhaustion finally crashing in. His body ached, his mind spun, but beneath it all was a spark he couldn’t ignore.

The Chronicle. His name written twice.

And this boy—Taeyun—whose presence felt less like chance and more like inevitability.

Jisoo lay back, staring at the glowing patterns etched into the ceiling. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. He didn’t know if he’d ever see Seoul again.

But deep down, something whispered:

You were meant to meet him here.

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