Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The phone rang, and Jimin let out a long, dramatic sigh as he stirred. For a second, he seriously considered just rolling over and going back to sleep. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but the first pale light of dawn was creeping through the window. Rain tapped against the glass, soft and steady, and it made him want nothing more than to burrow under his blanket and stay there forever.

Part of him really hoped he could pick up that dream he’d been having. If he stayed perfectly still, didn’t twitch or move at all, maybe it would start right back where it left off. Sometimes it actually worked.

Then reality barged in. If he didn’t get up, he’d be late for work. This month alone, he’d already gotten three warnings. The boss had said the next one and he was out. And if that happened, well… he’d basically starve. His diet lately had been nothing but instant ramen, two packs a day, if he was lucky.

When was the last time he’d had real food? Maby three months ago, when his best friend visited from Busan and invited him to dinner.

The thought reminds him, he should call Hana. It’s been a week since he last reached out, thanks to his crazy schedule. She was probably a little mad at him by now.

Eventually, he forced himself out of bed, dragging his feet across the floor. In the dark, he imagined his blanket tugging at him, like it was begging him to stay a little longer.

He talked to it anyway. Not out loud, well, kind of out loud. told it that he wanted to stay, that it was his one and only love… but if he didn’t make money, he couldn’t pay rent. They’d kick him out, and then he’d end up sleeping on the street, where even the blanket would get wet and gross and end up tossed away. So yeah, if they really wanted to be together, the blanket was going to have to let him go.

God, he was clearly sleep-deprived. Talking to a blanket was not a good look.

After the shower, Jimin went to make coffee. The jar he’d bought… probably a month ago? Maybe longer. It was so dried out he had to stab it with a spoon to get it into the cup. At least the electricity was still on. He figured he had maybe a week left before the bill came due and he’d be boiling water over a candle or something.

He really needed a second job. No way was he asking Hana for money again. The first time had almost killed him with embarrassment. Not that she’d mind, she’d offered plenty of times, swearing Jimin could always count on her, but telling her he was basically one step away from digging through trash cans? Yeah, no.

Not that he’d even be good at it. With his luck, some rat would get there first and run off with the prize. And it’s not like he could stand there shouting, “Hey, drop that, it’s mine!” Rats don’t exactly respect ownership rights.

He had lost so much weight from hunger lately that he could barely look at himself in the mirror.

Thirty minutes to go. Jimin gulped down his coffee like it was a race, burning his mouth in the process. Jacket? On. Scarf? On. Shoes? On, the ones that had gotten soaked and dried in the rain so many times that you couldn’t even tell what color they had been originally. Once he got that second job, a new pair would be the first thing he bought.

By almost six, he was standing outside the café and pushed the door open. He scanned his card at the computer; two minutes to six. Perfect timing. If he had been even a minute late, he’d be in trouble when his boss checked the time at the end of the day.

Mr. Lee was strict. Not cruel, but grim. He never smiled and always walked around with that furrowed, serious face. Maybe he had his own problems, Jimin couldn’t judge. Sure, Jimin smiled all the time, but work left little room for it. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely laughed… or wait, yes he could. When Hana had come to visit and they were walking outside, a pigeon had pooped on her new hat. Jimin had laughed so hard that almost all the coffee he was drinking shot out of his nose.

The first half hour was calm, just Jimin wiping down tables and tidying the register. By seven-thirty, the first customer arrived: a girl in a brown coat and a red hat. She ordered an iced Americano, and her hands so cold they could barely move, she struggled to place her card on the payment terminal.

Jimin wondered why anyone would want a cold drink in weather like this, but some things you just couldn’t understand. Just last week, a customer had wanted a “hot” iced latte. After tasting it, she said it was too hot and demanded ice cubes be dropped in to cool it down. Seoul had its fair share of strange people. He’d only moved here from Busan two years ago, but trust him, he’d seen enough weirdness to last a lifetime.

The day stretched on as usual. It was only five o’clock, but he was already exhausted. Two more hours to go. The door swung open, and three female students came in, laughing.

“One triple hot mocha, please,” said one, while the other two whispered something behind her and pointed at Jimin.

Jimin pretended not to notice, smiling politely. This wasn’t the first time. Whenever groups of female students came in, they would whisper and giggle as soon as they saw him. Sometimes they asked for his phone number or social media, but every single time, he politely refused.

Well… can’t a handsome guy walk in and ask for his number once in a while? Was that really asking too much?

“Five minutes, and it’ll be ready. That’ll be eight dollars in total,” he said.

The girl paid, then went to sit at a table by the window with her friends. The whispering continued, and they kept sneaking glances at him. Jimin didn’t pay attention; he turned his back and got back to making coffee.

Being a student must feel nice, he thought. Hopefully, one day he’d save enough money to get into university. After finishing school in Busan, he had moved to Seoul to find work. Ever since he was a kid, he’d dreamed of living in a big city. He remembered how, in the evenings at the orphanage, they would turn on the TV and watch famous actors, and he’d tell himself that one day he would be like them.

Now he was only nineteen. He still had time. He would save enough money, and one day he would get into Seoul’s University of the Arts.

Eventually, he would have friends like those girls, people to go out with to cafés and bars, to laugh at stupid jokes and complain about exams together. Maybe he’d even like someone enough to ask for their number. But, knowing his luck… they’d probably say no. Actually, no, he couldn’t ask anyone at all. Except for Hana, no one knew he liked guys. And in this world, that still tended to be something people didn’t quite accept. The thought made him sigh quietly.

Half an hour later, the café had emptied again. Outside, snow had fallen for a while, soft and quiet, but the rain had returned, mixing with the slush and turning the streets into a grimy mess of black snow and mud.

Jimin desperately wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the blanket over his head, and not emerge until spring. He imagined himself as a bear, hibernating through the winter. But unlike bears, he couldn’t store enough food to survive, he’d be dead from starving in two days flat.

He glanced at the clock and at his phone. Still, he had to look at the new job postings today. It was one of those days when the world felt heavy, wet, and gray, and yet life refused to pause.

The bell above jingled as the door opened, pulling Jimin out of his thoughts. He blinked and saw Mr. Lee standing there.

 Ohh, already seven in the evening?

 The man wore a long black coat, and his brown scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck, leaving only his serious, furrowed face visible.

“Hello, Jimin. How’s everything going?”

“Hello, sir. It’s been a quiet day. We didn’t get many customers, probably because of the bad weather,” Jimin replied politely, smiling exactly the way he knew Mr. Lee liked.

“All right. I’ll be in my office. Leave the keys with me before you go; I’ll lock up,” Mr. Lee said, heading toward the back room, his shoes clicking on the floor.

Half an hour until closing. Just a little longer, and Jimin could finally escape this reality and bury himself in his one true love, the bed. From the tips left today, there wasn’t much, but he had managed to grab two cupcakes. He dropped the money into the register and carefully wrapped the cupcakes in paper, one to enjoy tonight at home, the other saved for tomorrow.

When it was time, he handed the keys to Mr. Lee, who was sitting at his desk in the office, eyes glued to the computer screen.

The man waved without looking up, and Jimin stepped out of the room, the door clicking softly behind him. Outside, the last customers had gone, leaving the café quiet and smelling faintly of coffee and baked goods.

Jimin walked down the street lit by orange streetlamps that buzzed faintly in the drizzle, their glow smudged by the mist. The snow had melted into dark slush beneath the rain, and for once, he counted himself lucky, no soaked socks tonight. His toes, usually trapped in icy misery, wiggled gratefully inside his battered sneakers.

A few people passed him by: a man in a long coat rushing as though late for something important, a woman balancing an umbrella and her phone, thumbs flying over the screen without once glancing up. Everyone seemed to exist in their own little worlds, sealed away by headphones or glowing devices. Jimin envied that sometimes, being so absorbed that the cold, the hunger, the exhaustion just… disappeared.

Above him, the sky pressed low and heavy, the kind of overcast gray that promised snow would return at any moment.

He tugged his scarf tighter, burying half his face in it, and shoved his hands into his pockets. His fingers were stiff with cold, and he thought longingly of the bus he had stubbornly avoided tonight.

“Five hundred won saved is five hundred won earned,” he muttered, though his feet squished in protest with every step.

Normally, twenty minutes wasn’t much. On a crisp autumn day, it could even be pleasant, with leaves crunching underfoot and the city glowing like fire. But in the middle of winter? In sneakers that hadn’t been waterproof since… well, ever? Through streets that were more swamp than sidewalk? Yeah, definitely less than ideal. He sighed and quickened his pace.

He was halfway home when he turned the corner near the little flower shop, the one that always smelled faintly of roses even in December and heard a voice. Thin, pitiful. A whine.

Jimin stopped mid-step, head tilting.

A dog?

He hesitated, glancing toward the narrow alley tucked between two shuttered stores. It was dim, the kind of place he’d normally avoid without a second thought. But the sound had come from there. He told himself he should just keep walking. It wasn’t his problem. He was cold, hungry, and already late to get home.

But then the whine came again, sharper, almost desperate.

“…Seriously?” Jimin muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

With a groan, he edged toward the alley, sneakers splashing in shallow puddles. The light from the street barely reached past the entrance, leaving the inside in shadow. Old boxes and broken wooden pallets were stacked haphazardly against the wall, dark with damp.

Something shifted behind them.

Jimin froze, squinting, his heart giving a little nervous kick. For a split second, his imagination betrayed him, what if it wasn’t a dog? Seoul had rats the size of cats, after all. What if it was something worse? A mugger? A ghost? God forbid, both at the same time.

But then the shadow stumbled forward, and he exhaled in relief.

A puppy.

Small, dirty, soaked from nose to tail. Its fur clung to its fragile frame, and its ribs poked through the mess of mud and rainwater. The puppy crept cautiously toward him, then, with a tiny sneeze, pressed its cold nose against his ankle and sniffed. Its eyes, big, round, and impossibly bright, looked straight up at him, pleading for something.

“Oh no,” Jimin whispered, crouching down. His breath came out in a little cloud against the cold air. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll win. I’m weak.”

He reached out carefully, letting the puppy sniff his fingers before petting the top of its head. The little thing leaned into the touch instantly, shivering as it pressed closer to his hand. Jimin’s heart squeezed.

“Great. Just great. You’re cute, you’re freezing, and I’m broke. What am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered, glancing around as if someone would magically appear with an answer. “You know my building’s got more rules than a prison, right? No pets, no loud music, no hanging laundry on the balcony, next thing, they’ll say no breathing after midnight.”

The puppy whined softly, and Jimin laughed under his breath, rubbing its ears. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s my landlord. Pretty sure he’s some kind of reincarnated war general who hates joy.”

Jimin sighed and leaned back on his heels. His hands were already cold, but the puppy felt colder. He fumbled with the paper bag he’d been carrying, the one with his precious cupcakes, the little treasures he’d saved from the café. He held them in his hands for a long moment, chewing his lip. One for tonight, one for tomorrow. That had been the plan.

But then he looked at the puppy again. Its tiny tongue peeked out, sniffing the air, eyes full of hope.

“You’re killing me, you know that?” Jimin said, shaking his head. With a reluctant groan, he unwrapped one cupcake and placed it down on the ground. “Fine. But only one. I’m keeping the other for myself, or I’ll actually starve. And you better savor this, okay? This is premium dessert. People pay good money for this.”

The puppy didn’t need to be told twice. It immediately began nibbling, tail wagging furiously. Jimin couldn’t help but smile as he watched. Something warm settled in his chest, chasing away the chill of the night for a moment.

When the cupcake was nearly gone, Jimin pulled off his scarf. The air bit at his neck immediately, but he ignored it. He shook the fabric out, found a spot against the alley wall that was sheltered from the worst of the rain, and spread the scarf there like a little bed. Then he lifted the puppy gently, setting it down on the dry fabric.

“There. Five-star accommodation,” he said softly, patting the pup’s tiny head. “Don’t complain, I don’t usually share my stuff. Consider yourself special.”

The puppy curled up instantly, nose tucked into the folds of the scarf. Jimin lingered for a few seconds, brushing his fingers over its damp fur.

“I’ll bring you something else tomorrow, promise,” he whispered. “Don’t go running off with some ghost or rat gang before then, okay?”

The little dog didn’t answer, of course, but Jimin swore its breathing already sounded calmer. With one last fond stroke, he pushed himself to his feet and turned back toward the street. His sneakers squelched against the wet pavement as he walked, but for some reason, the night didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

The next evening, after another long shift at work, Jimin found himself walking back toward the flower shop without even meaning to. His feet seemed to know the way, carrying him to the little alley. He paused at the entrance, scanning the shadows.

But there was nothing.

No puppy. No small shape curled up where he had left it. Even his scarf was gone.

Jimin stood there for a while, hands shoved into his coat pockets, listening to the distant hum of traffic. He imagined someone kind had come along, someone better prepared, someone with a warm apartment and proper food. Maybe they had picked the puppy up and carried it away, safe and happy now. That thought comforted him.

Still, a quiet ache lingered in his chest as he turned away. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

That day, Jimin had a day off. He sat on the edge of his small bed, scrolling halfheartedly through part-time job postings on his phone. The screen glowed in the dim room, but every listing seemed either already filled or impossible to manage with his current hours. His stomach growled quietly, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since yesterday evening.

Just as he was about to close the phone, it buzzed with an incoming call. The name on the screen made him blink in surprise.

“Hana?” He answered quickly.

“Jimin-ah!” Her voice burst through the speaker, warm and bright. Just hearing it made his chest feel lighter.

“Hana…?” He sat up straighter, a smile tugging at his lips. “Why are you calling so early?”

“Because I missed you, dummy!” she laughed, the sound so familiar it made him ache with nostalgia. “Guess where I am right now?”

He grinned despite himself. “Mm… don’t tell me you finally came up to Seoul?”

“Exactly! I’m here! I have to drop off my university documents, but after that I want to see you. You’re free today, right?”

Jimin looked around his tiny apartment, empty except for silence. Free, too free, if he admitted it. Still, his voice came out soft and glad: “Yeah. I’m free.”

“Good! Let’s meet at Seongbuk Park in an hour. The weather’s so nice today, we can drink coffee and walk around. It’s been forever since I’ve seen your face.”

Her words made his throat tighten a little. He didn’t realize how much he had missed her until just now. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

“Okay. Don’t be late, or I’ll never forgive you,” she teased before hanging up.

Jimin sat with the phone in his hand for a moment, smiling to himself. He hadn’t felt this kind of warmth in a long time.

When he arrived at Park, Hana was already waiting near the entrance, bouncing on her feet. The moment she spotted him, she ran over without hesitation.

“Jimin!” she shouted, throwing her arms around him.

He let out a surprised laugh, stumbling a little as she hugged him tight. But he hugged her back just as firmly, burying his face into her scarf for a second. She was warm, familiar, safe.

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” she said against his shoulder before pulling back, her eyes shining.

“You make it sound like I vanished from the planet,” Jimin teased, though his smile was softer than usual.

“You might as well have. No calls, no texts… Seoul’s swallowed you whole,” she scolded lightly, but her grin gave her away.

They bought hot coffee from a small street vendor near the park and wandered along the paths, the air crisp but softened by the sun. People strolled with families, couples walked hand in hand, and kids chased each other, their laughter carrying across the open space.

Hana talked endlessly, her voice bubbling with excitement. She told him about the university, about the classes she hoped to take, about all the things she wanted to do now that she was finally in Seoul. Jimin listened quietly, occasionally nodding or adding a short reply, but mostly just enjoying the sound of her voice.

He felt proud of her, really proud, but at the same time, something tugged at his chest. Deep down, he wished he had something like that to look forward to too.

They found a nice sunny spot and sat down on a bench. Hana continued chatting about her plans, then paused and tilted her head. “By the way, Jimin… are you going to Namsan Riverbank for the Silver Moon?”

“The what?” he blinked.

Her eyes widened. “You don’t know? Everyone’s talking about it online!”

Jimin tilted his head. “I… haven’t really been on my phone lately.” That was true. Mostly, he had been scrolling through job boards, applying for anything that might cover groceries, but he didn’t feel like explaining that.

Hana leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was telling a secret. “Next week is the Silver Moon. It only happens once every five hundred years! The news says the sky will be clear, and people are already planning to gather by the river to watch. Isn’t it amazing?”

“Silver Moon?” he repeated, frowning slightly.

She laughed. “Seriously, how do you not know this? Even my grandma in Busan saw articles about it. They say it’s this rare lunar thing, where the moon glows brighter than normal, like pure silver. It’s only visible from here. People are calling it the event of the century.”

Jimin took another sip of his coffee, letting the warmth spread through his fingers. “Sounds… interesting.”

“‘Interesting?’” Hana nudged him with her elbow. “Come on, Jimin. It’s history! Everyone’s going to be there. You should go too.” Then she tilted her head, a mischievous smile creeping onto her face. “Actually… you should definitely come. With your silver hair, you’ll look like you’re glowing with the moonlight. People might mistake you for part of the event.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, though his lips curved into a laugh. “What, you think I’ll blind everyone with my head?”

“Exactly,” she teased, laughing along with him.

He shook his head, amused, but her words lingered more than he let on. His hair had always been like this, shining silver, almost unreal under sunlight or streetlamps. Strangers used to ask him what brand of dye he used, and even teachers assumed he spent hours bleaching it. But the truth was simpler, and stranger: he had been born this way.

Sometimes it felt like a blessing, unique, eye-catching. Other times, especially when he was younger, it felt like a burden. People stared, whispered, laughed. He learned to smile it off, but deep down, he had never really understood why he was different.

Hana had never treated it as anything other than beautiful. And now, with her joke about him shining under the Silver Moon, a strange warmth stirred in his chest, half laughter, half something else he couldn’t name.

“Fine,” Jimin said lightly, finishing his coffee. “If the moon outshines me that night, I’ll forgive it. Otherwise… it better watch out.”

Hana burst into laughter so loud a couple passing by glanced at them. “You’re ridiculous. But I missed that. I should go now. My train’s in less than an hour. If I’m late, my grandma will scold me.”

Jimin chuckled softly. “Yeah, you better not risk that.”

They stood, and at the park’s entrance, she hugged him tightly, more warmly than before. “I’ll be back in two months,” she promised against his shoulder. “And next time, we’ll do something bigger."

“That sounds nice,” Jimin said with a smile.

“And you should come to Busan sometime,” Hana added, stepping back but keeping her hands on his arms. “Grandma would be so happy to see you. She always asks about you.”

Jimin’s chest softened at her words. “I will. Not now, I need to focus on work, but someday soon, I’ll visit. Tell her… I’ll definitely come.”

“Promise?” Hana asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Promise,” he nodded firmly.

She seemed satisfied with that, and with one last wave, she hurried toward the station, her figure disappearing into the busy street.

Jimin stayed still for a while, watching the spot where she’d gone, before slowly walking back toward his apartment. The city was loud again, but his thoughts drifted away from the present, carrying him backward into softer memories.

He had first met her when he was a boy, back when he was still living at the orphanage. He’d been a difficult child, sneaking out whenever he got the chance, sometimes just to escape the noise, sometimes to pretend he belonged somewhere else. One of those nights, he stumbled across Hana, small and cheerful, who dragged him by the hand straight to her house.

Her grandmother hadn’t scolded him, nor asked too many questions. Instead, she simply set a plate of snacks in front of him, sweet rice cakes, warm chestnuts, little things she always seemed to have ready. From that day on, whenever he slipped out of the orphanage, he ended up there, welcomed without judgment.

By sixteen, when the orphanage declared him an adult and sent him out to make his own way, it was Hana’s grandmother who took him in, no hesitation at all. For a while, her small home in Busan was his only safe place.

Now, three years later, he was nineteen, living in Seoul, trying to stand on his own feet. But every time he thought of her, there was a tug in his chest, a wish to someday repay her for everything. For the kindness, the patience, the countless nights she fed a lost boy as if he were her own.

The week dragged by the same as always. Work, sleep, repeat. Jimin didn’t even think about the Silver Moon Hana had mentioned. Every night he came home so tired he could barely shower before collapsing onto the couch. His phone sat untouched on the table, battery nearly always dead. He had no time for scrolling, no time for updates.

That night, the old TV in the corner was on, humming softly, but he wasn’t paying attention. He sat curled up on the sofa, staring out the window instead. Snowflakes drifted lazily down, catching the glow of the street lamps and scattering into tiny sparks of white. His apartment was quiet, the only sound the distant hum of cars outside.

He almost drifted into sleep when the TV’s noise shifted, something brighter, louder. A bubbly voice cut through his haze.

 "good evening everyone!” The host’s grin filled the screen, her voice carrying that too-cheerful tone Jimin always thought was a bit fake.

“Tonight’s top story, the countdown is on! In just three days, the world will witness a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon… or should I say, once in five centuries. Yes, you heard that right; the legendary Silver Moon is almost here.”

Behind her, the studio screen flashed to an image of the moon, glowing faintly silver-blue against a dark sky. It looked like something out of a painting.

“Astronomers tell us this rare alignment hasn’t occurred since the Middle Ages, and won’t happen again for another five hundred years. While scientists assure us it’s nothing more than a stunning lunar reflection caused by atmospheric layering… myths surrounding the Silver Moon tell a different story.”

The broadcast cut to footage of a dusty library, old tomes stacked high. An elderly man with silver-rimmed glasses spoke in a calm, steady voice.

“The Silver Moon is believed to be a veil,” the folklorist explained. “A doorway between worlds. When it rises, some say a chosen soul will pass through… never to return.”

The feed jumped back to the smiling host, as if to brush off his words.

“Of course, most experts dismiss these as old wives’ tales. Still, millions are expected to gather under the night sky to see for themselves. Special watch parties are planned in Seoul, Tokyo, Paris, and New York, and we’ll be bringing you live coverage of the Silver Moon as it unfolds.”

She leaned a little closer to the camera, her smile playful but her tone softening.

“So, wherever you are, don’t miss it. After all… none of us will ever see it again.”

The broadcast ended with the image of the glowing silver moon hanging in the night sky.

Jimin blinked at the screen, the words only half sinking in. Myths, veils, chosen souls… it all sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, not real life. He had rent to pay and shifts to drag himself through, no time to think about magic moons.

With a small huff, he reached for the remote and lowered the volume. “Five hundred years or whatever,” he mumbled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Guess I’ll just watch it from my window if I’m not dead tired that night.”

Outside, the snow kept falling in steady silence. The TV flickered quietly in the background, but Jimin had already leaned his head back against the couch, eyelids heavy, mind drifting toward tomorrow’s long shift.

The Silver Moon could wait.

The afternoon rush started earlier than usual. By three o’clock the café was already buzzing, the bell above the door jingling nonstop as customers streamed in to escape the cold.

Jimin worked the counter, sliding cups across, punching buttons on the register, his body running on muscle memory. The conversations around him blurred into background noise, until certain words kept standing out.

“Make it two americanos. We’ll need the energy if we’re staying out ‘til midnight.”

“You think the river’s gonna be packed already? Should we save a spot?”

He realized they weren’t talking about coffee at all. It was always the same subject, the Silver Moon.

Two teenage girls waiting for frappes scrolled on a phone, one gasping, “Look, even celebrities are posting about it.”

A man in a heavy coat murmured to his wife, “My coworker swears it brings good fortune if you see it with someone you love.”

At the corner table, a group of university students argued over which bridge had the best view.

By five, when the sky outside had already gone dark, the place only grew busier. Steam clouded the windows, muffling the sight of passing crowds outside. Every second person seemed to mention it.

Jimin listened with half an ear as he wiped counters, took payments, poured espresso shots. His body was moving on autopilot, but his brain kept tugging him toward one stubborn thought: it’s just the moon. A big glowing rock. He wondered why no one else felt the same.

Hours later, when the flow finally began to slow, his boss poked his head out from the back. “We’re keeping the shop open late tonight. Big crowd expected down by the river, they’ll all want hot drinks after. You can handle closing, right, Jimin?”

Jimin wanted to protest, but only managed a weak nod. “Yes, sir.”

So he stayed. By the time the last customer left and he flipped the sign to CLOSED, it was well past eleven. He stepped out into the night, locking the door behind him. The air hit him cold and sharp, and for a second, he just stood there on the quiet street, scarf pulled high around his chin.

“Straight home,” he muttered under his breath, scarf pulled tight. “Straight to bed.”

That’s when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

FaceTime: Hana.

He groaned softly, but he still swiped to answer. Her bright face filled the screen.

“Jimin!” Hana’s face lit up the screen, framed by Busan streetlights. Behind her, the sound of chatter and laughter poured through, the blur of people passing by. “Don’t tell me you’re still at work!”

“Just closed,” he mumbled, voice rough with fatigue.

“Then perfect timing! Go to the river!”

“What? No. I’m going home.” He shifted the phone, starting to walk. “I don’t care if the moon turns purple and aliens dance out of it, I need sleep.”

Hana gasped, clutching at her scarf dramatically. “Unbelievable! You’re the only person in Korea not excited for this. It’s literally history. Do you know how many people are watching? Even my grandma is outside right now!”

“I’m glad your grandma’s more alive than me,” Jimin muttered. “Seriously, Hana. My feet are suing me.”

But Hana, as always, didn’t give up. She rattled on, teasing, persuading, guilt-tripping, until Jimin gave a defeated groan.

“Fine,” he said, dragging a hand over his silver hair. “I’ll go."

“Good!” she grinned, flashing a victory sign. “Now I can relax. Ah, my friends are waiting, I have to go. Call me after, okay?”

Before he could reply, the screen went black.

He stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the phone for a moment. Then, sighing, he shoved the phone into his pocket and turned toward the Han River.

Already, the streets were thick with people. Couples walked hand-in-hand, children skipped in oversized coats, groups of friends carried thermoses and cameras. Vendors called out, selling fish cakes and roasted chestnuts. The closer he got to the riverbank, the louder the chatter, everyone’s voices layering over each other like waves.

Jimin slipped through the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone, until he found a spot near the center. He tugged his scarf tighter, The tips of his sikver hair sticking out from the hat catching the faint glow of the streetlamps.

The sky was clear tonight. Not a single cloud to hide the stars. And then, as if the world had been waiting, the moon began its slow climb.

At first it looked ordinary, round, pale. But the higher it rose, the stranger it seemed. The glow shifted, not white or yellow, but silver, sharp and gleaming like molten light. The air itself seemed to hush as the moon took its place above the city.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

“Daebak…” someone whispered.

“It really looks different…”

“Shh, look, it’s shining stronger now.”

And it was. The moon swelled brighter, silver-blue light spilling across the Han River until the water shimmered like liquid glass. The tall buildings reflected the glow, their outlines softened as if painted in dream colors. For a moment, Seoul looked nothing like itself, it looked like something out of an old storybook.

Jimin stood still, staring, unable to blink. The light touched his face, his eyes reflecting it back like glass. He hadn’t expected anything, but it was beautiful, so beautiful it tugged at something deep in his chest.

Beside him, a young couple held hands, their voices low but clear enough to overhear.

“I read online,” the girl murmured, “that if you make a wish under the Silver Moon, it comes true.”

Her boyfriend chuckled. “You really believe that?”

“Why not? It only happens once in five hundred years. Worth a try, isn’t it?”

Jimin’s lips curved faintly. A wish, huh?

He tilted his head back, eyes fixed on the silver glow, and let his thoughts drift.

Maybe he should try. What do he have to lose?

His chest rose with a quiet breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. In his heart, silently, he spoke:

I wish… in the future, I’ll find happiness. A place I can really call home. I wish Hana and Grandma stay healthy and safe. I wish I won’t always be cold and hungry, won’t always be wandering alone. I hope one day I’ll have someone beside me, someone who’ll love me, cherish me. I don’t need much. Just… a happy home. That’s all.

The silver light wrapped around him, gentle but steady, as though the moon itself was listening.

Jimin lowered his gaze and let out a shaky laugh under his breath. “Pathetic, Park Jimin,” he whispered. “Wishing on the moon like a kid.”

But still, his eyes lingered on it, because somewhere, deep inside, he wanted to believe.

Jimin once again felt the weariness pressing down on his shoulders and realized it was time to head home. He turned from the river’s edge, weaving through clusters of people still pointing at the sky, before slipping onto a quieter, tree covered path. The crowd behind him showed no sign of thinning, they would probably stay until late into the night. Jimin, however, didn’t have that luxury; morning meant work, and work meant he needed sleep.

The thick branches gradually blocked the silver glow, until the moon was hidden completely, and after that, he stopped looking up. His focus settled instead on the sound of his own footsteps over cobblestones, steady but dragging from exhaustion. After about fifteen minutes, he paused, weighing the walk ahead. If he crossed the bridge, he could cut the way shorter and reach home faster.

This wasn’t the city center, it wasn’t one of those famous bridges still buzzing with couples and tourists even at this hour. Here, cars passed only rarely, usually when traffic jams forced drivers to take this road as a detour. Tonight, the road was empty, quiet but for the faint murmur of water beneath.

His eyes followed the Han River as he walked, the rippling surface carrying shimmering pieces of neon from distant buildings. He was only halfway across when something caught his eye: a small moving shadow clinging to the iron beams on the other side of the railing. Jimin slowed down, squinting, then moved closer to the barrier.

A puppy?

He froze. What on earth was it doing there? Hanging between the beams like that, it was dangerous. And… wait, why did it look exactly like the puppy he had found weeks ago near the flower shop?

Jimin had convinced himself someone kind had taken it in. The thought had comforted him. But if this was the same puppy, then what in the world was it doing out here, alone?

His chest tightened. Damn it, this wasn’t the time to think. If he didn’t act quickly, the poor thing would slip and fall into the river. From this height, no puppy would stand a chance. And it wasn’t as if Jimin could leap in after it; sure, he could swim, but a drop like that into the black, freezing Han? That was death, for him and for the dog.

He crouched by the railing, stretching his arm carefully through the iron bars, but no matter how far he leaned, he couldn’t touch the pup.

“Hey… hey, little one, come here. Come closer,” he coaxed softly, keeping his voice as gentle as he could so as not to startle it. If it panicked and slipped… he swallowed the thought.

The puppy, however, didn’t share his urgency. It wagged its tail, ears twitching, its nose still pointed toward the rippling water below as though the dark current were endlessly fascinating.

“Damn it,” Jimin muttered under his breath. “Of course this is the one time I don’t have food on me.”

He pulled his hand back, glanced around.

No headlights, no pedestrians, no one at all. Waiting for help was pointless.

So he stayed there, crouched, murmuring to the little creature, pleading quietly for it to move closer. But the stubborn ball of fur only flicked its tail and glanced at him with wide, curious eyes, as if to say, Look how amazing it is to stand here!

Jimin exhaled slowly, bracing himself. First things first, he slipped off his long coat, folded it over the railing, and slid his phone deep into an inside pocket. The last thing he needed was that heavy coat tangling around his legs and making him lose balance while he was out there.

The night air bit into him immediately, his thin sweater no match for the cold, but he ignored it. He swung one leg over, then the other, gripping the railing with steady hands. His feet found the first thick iron beam beneath. From here, he could see the water churning far below, black and endless. His pulse jumped.

Don’t look down. Just don’t.

There were maybe five, six steps of slick iron. He moved slowly, pressing his weight evenly, each breath measured. The river whispered beneath him, reminding him what a single mistake would mean.

Finally, finally, he reached the pup. “There you are,” he whispered softly, crouching down carefully. The puppy wagged its tail the second it saw him, a burst of desperate joy lighting its dark eyes. As soon as Jimin’s fingers wrapped around its small body, the puppy melted into his hold, licking his hands. Jimin’s lips curved into a small smile despite the icy wind.

He straightened slowly, turning to go back when a sudden sharp scream pierced the air.

“Don’t jump!” a woman’s voice cried out from somewhere near the railing.

The sound jolted through him like electricity, his foot slipping slightly on the slick iron. His stomach dropped for a split second, but he clung on tightly, pressing the puppy to his chest. Holy, That was close. His heart raced, but then he heard her voice again, frantic:

“Please, don’t do it! Don’t jump!”

Jimin blinked, then… laughed softly under his breath, his lips curving despite the situation. He tilted his head toward her, voice calm and warm even as the wind howled.

“Ma’am, I promise I’m not stupid enough to throw myself into freezing water.” His tone carried a light chuckle. Then, after a beat, he added almost playfully, "No, wait, correction. I’m not stupid enough to throw myself into any water. Warm or cold.”

The woman stared, still pale with worry, and he gestured slightly with the puppy in his arms.

“I’m just here for this little troublemaker,” he explained gently, still smiling, though his muscles were tense.

Now came the hardest part, getting back. Walking backward wasn’t an option; one wrong move and both of them could fall. He started turning around, legs trembling from the cold and the effort. Each step felt heavier than the last.

By now she was leaning over the rail, one arm stretched out. “Here, let me help you!”

“Take him,” Jimin murmured, carefully pushing the puppy toward her. But the little thing didn’t want to let go, squirming wildly.

For a split second, panic sliced through him, the thought of the puppy slipping from his grasp, falling into the icy depths. The woman’s hand reached closer. Jimin shoved the pup toward her, afraid if he hesitated another second he’d lose his grip. She grabbed the puppy firmly, right at the exact moment Jimin’s balance failed.

The world tilted.

The iron disappeared from under his feet, and for a breathless moment, he was suspended in the open air. Time seemed to slow, the distant shouts, the gasp from the woman, the puppy’s faint bark muffled by the rush of blood in his ears. Cold wind roared past his skin like a scream.

The last thing he saw before his body tipped fully into the void was the moon, silver and impossibly bright, its light spilling across the river like liquid metal, catching him in its glow as he fell.

It felt a bit like lying in a hammock on a cool spring day, drifting in and out of sleep. That soft, weightless state where a breeze brushes over your skin, and for a fleeting moment a shiver runs down your spine. Feeling when you want nothing more than to stay like that forever, listening only to the faint hum of crickets around you.

But how could Jimin possibly know a feeling like that? He had never once left the city. No fields, no yards, no hammocks, just concrete, neon signs, and narrow streets.

Waking up was like being tugged from a dream he wasn’t ready to leave. He stretched lazily, resisting the urge to open his eyes. Why did it feel as if he were lying on grass, blades brushing his face, with the distant trill of birdsong threading through the air? He yawned wide, a rough sound rumbling out of his throat, low and strange, but he was too groggy to think much of it.

He shifted, trying to rise, but his chest remained close to the ground. His balance felt wrong, heavy in places it shouldn’t be. A sharp unease pricked at him. What was going on with his body? He tried to glance downward, but his head jerked too quickly, and his face smacked hard against the ground.

“Damn, that hurt!” The complaint burst out before he could stop it. But what startled him wasn’t the sting, it was the sound that followed. A sharp, unfamiliar noise rang in his ears, as if it had come from somewhere else.

“What? Where’s that coming from?” He turned his head, wide-eyed, and the same strange sound echoed again.

Only then did he notice the trees. Dozens of them, towering and dense, surrounding him in every direction. Bushes crowded the spaces between trunks.

This wasn’t a yard. His chest tightened as he slowly took it in.

Where the hell was he? How had he ended up in a forest, of all places, and why couldn’t he remember anything about getting here?

Maybe he needed to move, look around, see if someone else was nearby. Someone who could tell him what was going on… and how to get back.

Jimin tried to stand again, but instead of rising the way he expected, his body only lifted a little before planting itself firmly against the ground. He looked down, and froze. Paws. What were dog paws doing down there?

Jimin tries to reach for those strange paws with his hand, but instead, they move.

where are his hands?

A cold, unsettling wave crawled up his spine. He staggered backward clumsily, balance slipping, his body lurching in ways that felt alien. Something isn’t right. It’s as if he’s sitting down, but all he can see are white paws. Four paws. And something else is moving there… long, white, and furry. A tail? Whose tail?

He whipped his head around to look, but the tail swung to the opposite side, just out of reach. He caught sight of the tip, turned in circles to follow it, faster, and faster, until his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed back onto the grass with a thud.

Calm down. You just need to calm down. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing dangerous.

Just… breathe.

The thought echoed in desperation, but before he could steady himself, a sound broke through the panic, high-pitched, familiar. Whine.. He snapped his head around, but aside from white paws and fur, there was nothing else in sight.

He shut his eyes tight, opened them, then shut them again, repeating the motion like someone desperate to wake from a nightmare. But nothing changed.

Maybe it was a dream. Yes. It had to be. He would wake soon, surely. He just had to wait.

But when his breathing finally slowed, reality pressed in again. Paws, four of them. And they moved when he moved. Not arms. Not legs. Paws. And a tail. A tail he had been chasing like some fool of a puppy.

Ha… haha… this is insane.

What kind of joke was this? Was he seriously a dog? Chasing his own tail like an idiot? No, no, that wasn’t possible. It was a dream. It had to be. Any second now he’d wake up. He’d go… he’d go home.

…Home? Where was that again?

The thought slipped like water through his mind, leaving only emptiness. Why couldn’t he remember? Why did his thoughts feel scrambled, drifting in pieces he couldn’t gather?

He clenched his eyes shut tighter, trying to force back the fog, but a sudden rustle from the underbrush snapped them open again. His head jerked toward the sound, ears pricked sharp.

The forest seemed to breathe around him. Trees loomed higher than they ever had before, branches stretching like skeletal arms across the sky. Every scent was sharp, pressing into him, the sweet bite of grass, the damp musk of earth, the cool stone tang of river water nearby. He could almost taste it on his tongue.

And the sounds, birds calling from all around. Not faint, not distant, but piercing, as if each chirp landed directly beside his ears.

Everything was too sharp. Too much. His body trembled with the weight of it.

Why were his senses like this? Why did the world feel so close, so alive, so impossibly vivid?

Would it be better to follow that strange scent?

His legs carried him forward on their own, oh, not legs. Paws.

He stumbled after only a few steps, his body collapsing awkwardly into the grass, but sheer stubbornness forced him back up. His movements were clumsy, uneven, like a limping, beaten dog dragging itself along, but little by little, he began to adjust, the rhythm of moving on all fours settling into him against his will.

Since this had to be just a dream, maybe it was better to feel it out, to explore these bizarre sensations before he finally woke up. Still, one thing was certain: he would never admit to anyone that he had just been chasing his own tail like some dumb dog.

He slipped through a thicket of bushes, branches brushing against his fur, and pressed deeper into the forest. Sounds crowded him from every direction, loud and layered, almost unbearable, like standing in the middle of a construction site. To his right, sharp taps echoed, as if someone were hammering on wood. Above, a chorus of birds filled the air, each call distinct, every trill amplified until it pierced through him. The wind moved the canopy overhead, rustling the leaves, but the noise was deafening, like paper tearing right beside his ears. Even the faint scuttle of insects burrowing into the ground reached him, so close, so sharp, as though he were staring at them through a magnifying glass.

A sudden rustle broke through on his left.

Jimin froze, his head snapping in that direction. Nothing. Just shadows and trees. His body stayed taut, muscles locked. Seconds later, the bush trembled again, leaves shaking, then fell still. He lowered his head slightly, bracing himself, breath caught.

And then, in a blur of motion, a small rabbit sprang out.

The sound that ripped from Jimin’s throat startled even him. A low growl, instinctive, raw. He hadn’t meant to make it.

The rabbit’s head jerked toward him for the briefest instant, eyes wide, before it bolted.

Jimin’s growl deepened. His paws shot forward before he even realized what he was doing. He was chasing it.

Wait, what the hell? He was running. Running too fast. Far too fast. The ground blurred beneath him, his body darting between roots and rocks with terrifying ease. Why was he moving like this? Why was he chasing a rabbit of all things?

Ahead of him, the rabbit darted in panic, leaping over branches, vanishing into a bush, only to reappear a heartbeat later, zigzagging in its desperate flight. And Jimin followed, relentless.

He should stop. He knew he should stop.

But something fierce and hot clawed up inside him. Anger. Why was he angry? His breaths came rough, each one carrying the rumble of a growl. And hunger. That rabbit looked… delicious. His stomach cramped, his teeth ached. He was starving.

Hungry. I’m so hungry.

His body slammed into tree trunks more than once, his sides smarting with each impact, but strangely, he didn’t care. The pain barely registered. All that mattered was the chase.

Then, silence.

The rabbit was gone.

Jimin skidded to a halt, panting, scanning wildly. He pushed his nose to the ground without thinking, inhaling deeply. Scent trailed through the damp soil and leaves, guiding him like a rope.

Wait. What was he doing? Why was he sniffing dirt like a hound? His lips curled in frustration, and the sharp ache in his teeth pulsed again, as though his mouth itself

demanded prey. His tongue tasted bitterness, an unpleasant coppery tang, and the hunger twisted sharper inside him.

He kept searching the area, circling, nosing at the undergrowth, until his racing thoughts finally slowed enough to notice the sky.

Somewhere during his frantic running, the light had vanished. Darkness wrapped itself around the forest, thick and heavy. In that darkness, a new smell drifted to him, the unmistakable, clean scent of rain. Spring rain, fresh and sharp, carrying the sweetness of wet grass and soil.

A drop landed on his nose.

Jimin looked up, and through the lattice of branches above, he glimpsed a slice of sky, gray, swollen with storm. Another drop struck, then another, until the rain fell in earnest. He shook his head hard, instinctively, like a dog after a bath.

The rain thickened quickly, joined by a restless wind that shoved through the trees, making them groan and sway. He could feel it battering against his body, but the cold didn’t touch him. What overwhelmed him wasn’t the chill, it was the noise.

The storm roared inside his skull, deafening. Every gust of wind was a howl, every raindrop a hammer. His ears rang with it, the buzz unbearable.

With a broken sound, Jimin dropped low, pressing his head against the ground, trying to shield himself. His paws covered his face clumsily, but they were useless. If he’d still had human hands, he would have clamped them hard over his ears until the world dulled. But paws couldn’t block out the storm.

Suddenly, thunder split the sky. It didn’t sound like thunder anymore, it was an explosion, ripping the world open. The blast shook Jimin to his very bones, and instinct swallowed him whole. He had to run. He had to get away from this sound, from the blinding white flashes, the shrieking wind that tore through the branches, the endless downpour drumming on every surface, and the thunder... thunder that reverberated inside his skull like bombs dropping just above his head.

He bolted. His body launched forward with a speed he didn’t command. Mud splashed

beneath his paws, the earth slick and treacherous, but still he ran. His vision blurred with rain, the path ahead fractured by shadows and light, yet his heart thundered faster than the storm. Fear smothered thought. There was no plan, no direction, only the desperate, choking urge to find somewhere quiet, sheltered, safe.

A jagged spear of lightning tore across the heavens, and the thunder followed almost instantly. The sound shattered him. He veered to the side blindly and slammed hard into a tree, pain rippling through his ribs. And then, images. Fleeting, scattered, like photographs crumpled and thrown across his mind.

Busan. The yard. Laughter of children.

Another flash, another bone-crushing roar; he lunged right, weaving through the towering trees.

Seoul. A coffee shop. Snow falling past the window of his room.

Another crack split the night sky, his paw slipped, sending him sliding down a muddy slope. He scrambled up and kept running, lungs burning, throat raw.

Hana’s voice. “Jimin, aren’t you going to watch the lunar event?”

A silver moon rising in his memory, glowing like an omen. A crowd gathered by the Han River.

Thunder again, merciless, suffocating.

The bridge. The tiny puppy. Its wide, sorrowful eyes. The moment he placed it into the arms of the woman.

And again, the silver moon. Cold and distant, watching.

Then, nothing. Darkness.

By the time he stopped, he was drenched to the bone, fur clinging to his body in heavy strands, mud smeared across his legs and chest. His breath came in harsh pants. Finally, a massive tree loomed before him, its roots spreading outward like a fortress. He stumbled beneath them and collapsed, curling himself into the smallest shape he could manage.

He pressed his face into his paws, trembling so violently.

Every nerve screamed with exhaustion and fear. He didn’t even notice when the rain eased, when the storm’s howling dulled into silence, when at last his shivers began to fade.

His thoughts drifted, hazy and heavy.

So… he had fallen from that bridge and died? Was he dead now? Was this what came after death? What about heaven and hell? Or maybe this was hell, and he was being punished for abandoning that puppy on the street that night. Was he doomed to spend all eternity as a dog?

He didn’t even know when sleep overtook him. It crept in quietly, swallowing his  body whole, until at last he sank into its depths.

When Jimin woke again, it was deep into the night. The forest was drenched in silver, bathed in moonlight that filtered down through the wet branches. His body ached, stiff from sleeping against the roots of the tree, but he couldn’t remain there. The gnawing emptiness in his stomach reminded him, he had to find something to eat.

The storm had passed, leaving behind a silence so heavy it felt unnatural. No birdsong, no rustling crickets, not even the faint buzz of insects. It was as if the whole forest had gone to sleep at once, holding its breath. Only one sound remained, the occasional drip of rainwater sliding from leaf to leaf, falling softly onto the damp ground.

He padded forward slowly, each step pressing into the wet soil, his ears twitching at even the faintest sound. The night was strange. The moon hung impossibly bright above him, and no matter where he turned, it followed, casting its glow deliberately on his path, as though guiding him. The place looked like one of those magical forests told in bedtime stories for children, though no one had ever read him anything at bedtime. A thought that struck deep, leaving a quiet, unfamiliar sadness in his chest.

He walked without realizing how far he had gone, until the trees parted and revealed a small lake. It rested in a hollow of the forest, surrounded by heavy, dark trunks and clusters of stone stacked unevenly at one side. The water itself was still, so perfectly smooth it could have been glass, mirroring the pale light above.

Jimin crept closer. At the edge, the surface shimmered strangely, as though something inside it pulsed with light. He leaned forward, peering down with wary curiosity. But there was nothing, nothing but his own reflection staring back at him.

And what was that? He was glowing?

No, wait. First of all, he wasn’t a dog. He was… a wolf? A large white wolf.

He tilted his head slowly to the side, and the figure in the water mimicked him, its fur matted with mud, its form lean but powerful. Not a dream. Not a trick of light. The outline of his body seemed to shimmer faintly, wrapped in a pale, bluish glow, as if moonlight clung to him alone.

Above his reflection, he noticed it too, the massive full moon staring back at him.

Cold, merciless, silver. The same moon he had seen in Seoul. The same moon that had watched him on the bridge.

“This is all your fault!” Jimin’s voice broke, cracking into the night as he lifted his head toward the sky. “Because of you, this happened to me!”

But the sound that tore from his throat was not a voice. It was a howl, low, powerful, echoing across the water until it rebounded through the forest, chilling and raw. The sound startled even him, as if it had come from someone else.

“Stupid moon,” he growled, though it was no more than a rough rumble in his throat. He stepped forward, letting his paws break the stillness of the lake. Ripples spread outward in perfect circles, warping the glowing reflection into fragments.

Wolf or human, it didn’t matter. He had to wash away the filth. The mud. The weight clinging to him.

He stepped deeper, the cold water curling around his legs, and lowered himself in.

Soon, the water around him turned a cloudy, murky brown, the dirt and mud peeling away from his fur and drifting off like smoke underwater. His reflection vanished in the ripples, leaving behind nothing but darkness. He climbed out of the lake, dripping and shook himself from nose to tail, sending droplets scattering through the quiet night air. The cool breeze that followed ruffled his damp fur, and for a moment, he stood still, listening to the forest breathe again.

He didn’t stray far after that. The lake felt like a place he should stay near, it had water, shelter, and some sort of strange, quiet comfort. Everything else beyond it was a maze of unfamiliar trees and shadows. Better to stay close. At least here, he wouldn’t lose himself completely.

But hunger returned sooner than he expected. Not the dull ache of an empty stomach, this was sharper, almost violent, crawling up through his chest and settling in his jaw. His teeth throbbed, an unpleasant itching, like they were demanding something he didn’t yet understand.

Then it came, the scent. A warm, delicate, mouthwatering scent that tugged at him without mercy. His body moved on its own, nose low to the ground, following the invisible trail winding between the dripping leaves. Each step felt steady, purposeful. His paws pressed softly into the wet earth, not clumsy anymore, not lost. He was hunting.

It didn’t take long before he found the source. A rabbit. Small, white-grey, its ears twitching in the grass. For one heartbeat he froze, staring. Then instinct surged through him like fire.

He lunged.

The rabbit bolted, zigzagging wildly, but his body answered without thought. His paws dug into the earth, muscles springing him forward, breath sharp and fast. Branches whipped against his sides, but he barely felt them. All he saw was the rabbit leaping, darting, fleeing, and all he knew was that he had to catch it.

And he did.

By the time his teeth sank in, it was already over. He hadn’t even noticed the exact moment the chase ended. Warmth filled his mouth, rich and metallic, and before he could think, he was tearing, swallowing, devouring. The world blurred into the rhythm of it, bite, chew, gulp, until at last, there was nothing left.

Silence returned.

He stood there, panting. The haze that had clouded his thoughts all night was gone. The ache in his teeth disappeared as if it had never been there. Hunger no longer tore at him. His mind felt clearer, lighter, almost peaceful.

What startled him most wasn’t that he had eaten the rabbit raw. It was that it hadn’t disgusted him at all. No nausea, no horror, just calm. Satisfaction. A strange, uneasy calm that made him feel almost… content.

But then he saw his paws.

White paws, stained deep red.

The sight made his stomach twist, not from sickness, but from something colder, heavier. He lowered his head, ears folding back, and padded slowly back to the lake. The water was still, waiting. He dipped his paws in and watched the blood bloom in thin red streams before dissolving into the dark surface.

When he was finally clean again, he dragged himself to the base of the rocks. His belly full, his body exhausted, his thoughts blurred into drowsiness. He curled against the stone, the night air cool against his fur, and closed his eyes.

Before he even realized it, sleep had taken him.

Days passed, maybe even a week. Jimin didn’t count anymore. Nothing really changed. The lake remained his world. The rain never returned, nor did the booming storms. Each day blurred into the next. When hunger clawed at him, he hunted small things, rabbits, squirrels, sometimes a bird if it strayed too close. He always felt a sting of guilt afterward, a heaviness in

his chest as he stared at what he had done. But no matter how much he hated it, he couldn’t control his wolf. Instinct always won.

One afternoon, the air turned cool, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves. Jimin lay stretched out near the lake, his head resting on his paws, letting his eyes drift shut. Everything felt quiet, calm. Then, something sharp stung his nose. A smell. Strong, acrid, unpleasant. It wasn’t food. It wasn’t water. It was something else entirely.

He opened his eyes at once and raised his head. The scent lingered on the wind, faint but steady.

Somewhere deeper in the forest, something darted past. Jimin’s ears flicked forward, his body tensing. Without thinking, he rose and padded toward it, cautious, quiet. The closer he got, the stronger the stench became, and the more uneasy he felt. His paws pressed carefully into the ground, but then a branch snapped beneath him with a loud crack. The gray shape froze and turned toward him.

Was that… a wolf? Could it be like him? A human trapped in this body? Hope flickered in his chest, fragile but real. If it was, then maybe… maybe he wasn’t alone. Maybe he could finally talk to someone. Maybe someone could explain all of this.

But that smell, the stench rolling off it was unbearable, bitter and sour, like rotting meat mixed with something foul. His stomach twisted just from breathing it in.

He took one careful step forward.

The gray wolf spun on its heels and bolted.

“Wait! Hey! I won’t hurt you, stop!” Jimin tried to shout, but all that came out was a loud, feral growl.

He ran after it, his paws pounding the earth, heart hammering. He had to catch it. He had to know.

At last, he closed the distance. But as soon as he drew near, the gray wolf stopped and whirled around. Its lips curled back, baring long teeth, froth clinging to its jaws. Its eyes burned with a raw, violent rage.

Jimin skidded to a halt, stunned. Then, instinctively, he bared his own fangs in return.

The stench grew stronger, so acrid it made his head spin. At the same time, something strange surged in him. A wave of heat. Anger. Fury that didn’t feel like his own but burned inside him all the same.

“I don’t want to fight,” Jimin tried to force out, but all that spilled from his throat was another growl. He forced himself to still, ears twitching back, trying to show he meant no harm.

But the gray wolf didn’t care. Its body shook with hostility, snarls ripping out louder and louder. Every twitch Jimin made, every small shift of his paw, only made the creature froth and snap harder.

Maybe it wasn’t like him at all. Maybe this wasn’t a human trapped in a wolf’s skin. Maybe this was just… a wolf. A real wolf. A dangerous, furious wolf.

Fear flickered inside him. He had never fought a wolf before. What if it attacked? What if it tried to kill him?

But then, wasn’t he a wolf too? And bigger, stronger, faster. This smaller, rabid thing… how could it overpower him?

Jimin considered turning away, stepping back into the safety of the trees. But before he could move, the gray wolf lunged.

Its teeth snapped dangerously close to his throat. Jimin jumped back, heart racing. But it didn’t stop, the gray beast hurled itself at him again, teeth flashing, snarling with madness.

Something inside him broke open. His chest burned hot, his jaws aching to strike. The sound that ripped from his throat was deeper than hunger, louder than fear.

He lunged.

Their bodies collided with a sickening force. Fur, claws, and teeth tangled in a violent blur. They snapped and tore at one another, the forest ringing with the sound of their snarls and growls. The sharp stench of blood and that bitter, acrid smell filled Jimin’s nose, choking him, yet he couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know if he wanted to stop.

The fight was brutal. The gray wolf was fast, lunging again and again, but Jimin was stronger. His teeth sank deep into its shoulder, then its side, then its neck. The creature yelped, twisting, but refused to back down. Instead, it went for his legs, snapping hard at his ankles and thighs. Pain shot through him every time those jaws clamped down, but Jimin shook it off, retaliating with heavier, stronger bites.

Blood matted both their furs, dark streaks staining the ground beneath them. Each time Jimin pinned the gray wolf, it thrashed and snarled back with more rage, but its strength was faltering. At last, with one final shove, Jimin forced it down. His jaws closed around its neck, not tight enough to kill, but enough to make it stop fighting.

The gray wolf wheezed, drenched in blood, trembling beneath him.

That smell hit Jimin then. Sharp, sour… but not just rage anymore. Fear. The gray wolf was afraid of him.

Jimin froze, his breath heavy, hot against its throat. His fangs pressed closer, and for a moment he thought he should end it, finish what had already begun. But he couldn’t. The wolf was beaten, already too weak, lying in the dirt with blood pooling under its body.

So he let go.

The gray wolf slumped to the ground, barely moving, and Jimin limped away.

Only then did he realize how badly his legs hurt. His right one stung with every step, the bite marks raw and burning. He tried to find his way back to the lake, but the forest around him felt unfamiliar. He hadn’t even noticed how far he’d run in the fight, chasing blindly until he was lost.

He moved through the evening, into the night, his pawsteps dragging. The ache in his leg grew sharper until his instincts took over. He stopped, bent his head, and began licking the wound. The taste of blood coated his tongue, but as his saliva soaked the wounds, the pain dulled. It was strange, but soothing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered: animals healed themselves this way. Maybe that was why it worked.

Relieved, he curled up near the roots of a tree and rested.

Days blurred together again. He wandered through unknown parts of the forest, sleeping wherever he found flat ground, eating whatever prey he could catch. His legs slowly healed, until only faint aches remained. Still, he couldn’t find his way back to the lake. It felt as though that place had vanished, swallowed by the endless trees.

Then, one afternoon, the silence broke. Voices. Shouts. Human voices.

Jimin froze. His ears perked. For a heartbeat, his chest surged with wild happiness. Humans! Real people. He wasn’t alone in this strange place after all. A laugh almost wanted to escape him, but instead a soft whine slipped from his throat. All this time, he had started to wonder if he had died and reincarnated on some uninhabited planet where humans didn’t exist.

Without thinking, he leapt toward the sound. Branches whipped past him, paws thudding against the ground. He could almost see them now, shadows moving between the trees,

But suddenly, he stopped dead.

What was he even thinking? Showing himself to humans? Wagging his tail like some happy dog, hoping they’d pet him and welcome him? As if they’d look at a wolf his size like a horse, and coo, “Aww, how cute!”

He had just decided to turn back and head the other way when suddenly several dogs burst out from the brush. They barked and growled furiously.

Jimin’s lips curled, a deep growl rumbling in his chest in answer. The dogs barked louder, snapping their teeth, their noise echoing through the forest.

And then he heard them, the voices of men drawing closer, rough shouts cutting through the chaos. He looked again and saw them clearly this time: humans on horseback, dark silhouettes moving through the trees. Their hands gripped bows, arrows already drawn.

A hunting party.

And he had leapt right into the middle of it.

The hunters spotted him quickly. More shouting broke out. Their horses stamped the ground, their dogs barked louder, and arrows gleamed faintly in the fading light.

Jimin’s chest tightened. His ears pressed flat.

Then he turned and ran.

Behind him, dogs and horses thundered after him, the hunters’ voices carrying sharp and wild through the trees; “Catch it! Kill it!”

The forest exploded with noise.

Jimin tore through the trees, his paws pounding the ground, branches whipping at his sides. Behind him, the thunder of hooves shook the earth, dogs barked like mad, and men shouted orders.

An arrow hissed past his ear. It struck a tree trunk with a hard thunk, quivering in the bark. Jimin flinched but didn’t slow.

Another arrow flew, grazing across his shoulder with a sting sharp enough to make him stumble.

The dogs closed in fast. He could hear their snarls snapping at his heels, their breath hot on his legs. One leapt and nearly clamped onto his tail, but Jimin whipped around mid-stride, snarling and snapping his fangs. The dog yelped back, startled, and fell behind, but another immediately took its place.

The hunters whooped with excitement, spurring their horses forward. “Faster! Don’t let it get away!”

Jimin veered sharply to the left, dodging through thicker trees where horses couldn’t follow so easily. Arrows still cut through the branches, one skimming past his ribs, another slamming into the dirt right by his paw. The dogs kept on, relentless, their barking never stopping.

Suddenly, one of the dogs lunged at his flank, its teeth sinking into his fur. Jimin snarled savagely, twisting and biting down hard on its back. The dog yelped in agony and fell away, leaving a streak of blood behind. But the others only howled louder, their fury doubling.

The forest grew denser the deeper he ran, trees crowding closer, underbrush scraping at his legs. Horses struggled to keep up now, their riders shouting in frustration as branches slapped against them.

Jimin’s paws skidded on damp leaves. He bolted down a slope, splashing through a shallow stream, hoping the water would wash his scent. The cold sting against his wounds only fueled him forward.

Behind him, the hunters’ shouts grew more distant. The dogs, too, seemed to be losing ground, their barks fading into echoes. Jimin didn’t dare slow until his legs nearly buckled beneath him.

At last, the forest fell silent again.

He stumbled into a dark hollow deep among the trees, chest heaving, blood still trickling from a scrape on his shoulder. He collapsed to the ground, his sides rising and falling with ragged breaths. For a long time, he just lay there, the pounding of his heart louder than anything else.

He had escaped. Barely.

But instead of relief, anger boiled inside him.

Not even animals wanted him. The gray wolf had fought him to the death. Not even humans wanted him. They had screamed at the sight of him, hunted him, tried to kill him. He dug his claws into the dirt, teeth clenched.

Pathetic.

Maybe this was what he was doomed to. To wander alone through endless forests, chased and hated by both sides, with no one who would ever stay by his side. Eternal loneliness.

When you’re trapped in some unknown dimension, stuck in the body of a wolf and fighting just to survive, you stop paying attention to the passage of time. You don’t count the days by the sun and stars, nor do you carve tally marks into stone.

For Jimin, it no longer mattered how long he had been here. Days, months, perhaps even years had passed, though he couldn’t say exactly how many. During this time, he had learned many new things. For instance, he could now read the emotions of other creatures by their scent. He had grown accustomed to sensitive hearing and sharpened sight. Thunderstorms no longer terrified him as they once had. The only thing he still avoided was human settlements. Ever since the last time he had nearly been killed by people, he never dared approach them again.

There were times when, while roaming through the forest, he would pass near a few villages, but he was always careful not to be noticed, making sure the dogs didn’t catch his scent. In the beginning, out of curiosity, he had crept close at night a few times. That was when he realized that life here was nothing like modern-day Seoul. This world seemed suspended somewhere between the past and the future.

The villages stretched along the foot of a gentle hill, wooden houses standing side by side, each with carved balconies and brightly painted window frames. He saw how merchants gathered there each day, some arriving on horseback, others pulling carts, to trade garden produce, fragrant spices, and handmade goods.

Yet despite its rustic appearance, the village wasn’t entirely primitive. At night, lamps powered by crystal-like energy lit the streets. The warm smell of fresh bread drifted from small bakeries, mingling with the sharper scents of iron and oil from the blacksmiths’ workshops.

Every village he passed was different in its own way. Some were larger, with busy market streets, while others were no more than a cluster of houses tucked into a valley. The people dressed differently too. Their clothing always seemed like an odd mixture, as if pieces of the future had been stitched together with fragments of the past. It wasn’t so outdated that women wore frilly gowns or men clanked around in armor, but neither was it the sleek, modern style he remembered from Seoul. To Jimin, the whole world felt strangely mismatched, like some post-apocalyptic future where society had been rebuilt with whatever scraps it could salvage.

He never stayed in one place for long. His paws carried him endlessly forward, farther and farther into lands he didn’t know. By now he couldn’t even guess how far he had traveled. He had never once passed through the same village twice, which meant he must have been covering an enormous distance over time.

The further he went, the more his human side seemed to fade. His emotions dulled, worn down by hunger, wandering, and solitude. The sharp, constant ache of homesickness lessened, not gone, but numbed. Even his memories of Seoul began to blur at the edges, becoming like fragments of a dream he wasn’t sure he had really lived. Yet there were still moments, rare but piercing, when everything came rushing back.

He would think of Hana, her quick smile, her quiet laughter, or her grandmother’s gentle hands. The memories didn’t appear often, but they always returned during those strange periods when his body felt fevered and unsettled. It was as if the pain itself dragged them back to him, forcing him to remember what he had lost. And in those moments, He had no choice but to hide away in the mountains, curling up in some dark cave, because he couldn’t risk anyone hearing the broken, miserable sounds that escaped him. It felt like a sickness that came in cycles, returning every few months like clockwork. He had counted once, back when he still bothered to track time, it happened roughly every three months.

And when it came, it was more than just sadness. His whole body burned, as if set alight from the inside. His chest ached, his throat tightened, and his head filled with a desperate, restless hunger for something he couldn’t name. He howled until his voice was raw, until his ribs shook with the force of it. At first, he thought he must have eaten something poisonous, some diseased animal that had cursed his blood.

but when the same thing kept happening every few months, he realized it was something else entirely. But it wasn’t as if he could get access to the internet and Google it, or visit a doctor and explain his symptoms. So, he got used to enduring that cycle of terrible pain, emptiness, tears, and longing every three months, preparing himself in advance each time. Only a week had passed since he last suffered through it.

And then there was another thing. Once every six months, whenever the full moon climbed high into the sky, his body betrayed him. His wolf form began to glow. Literally glow, like someone had shoved a lantern inside his ribcage and lit him up from the inside out. His fur shimmered like silver fire, casting light on everything around him. Honestly, it was infuriating, how could you hide from people and predators when you looked like a walking torch with a giant glowing arrow above your head screaming, “Here I am!”

If there was any comfort, it was that fights were rare. Since the very first, bloody clash with that gray wolf, nothing so brutal had happened again. Over the years, he had only run into a couple of wolves, both smaller and dull-coated, and they had bolted the moment they saw him. He hadn’t chased. He had crossed paths with coyotes too, and even once with a massive bear, but as long as he didn’t trespass into their territory, none of them attacked him. Which meant he hadn’t had to fight with fangs and claws again, and that was a small relief.

Today was another one of those days when he had to change territory. He padded along the stream, following the steady trickle of water down its bank. The hours slipped by in silence until dusk, when he finally came across a small waterfall tumbling down from a low cliff into a modest-sized lake, the very lake that fed the stream he had been tracing.

Near the falls, he drank deeply from the clear water, then scrambled up the rocks beside it. The climb wasn’t high enough to see beyond the treetops, but from the top of a massive boulder, the view was wide and peaceful. The forest spread out endlessly, dark and alive under the fading light.

His stomach should have been aching, but hunger had dulled long ago. He hadn’t eaten in two days, yet he felt strangely full. Once a week was usually more than enough to silence his body’s need.

He stretched out on the grass near the edge, resting his head on his paws, and drifted into a shallow doze. When he opened his eyes again, the full moon was already hanging in the center of the night sky, spilling silver light across the lake and the trees. The first night he had arrived here, the moon had looked magical, almost sacred. But every full moon after that had felt ordinary, stripped of wonder. Except for the curse that came with it. As always, his fur blazed with a pale glow.

He shook his head and gave his fur a sharp ruffle. That was when a scent cut through the cool night air. Not food. Not danger. Something else entirely. It curled around him like smoke, familiar yet strange. It reminded him of autumn leaves and the spice of hot tea from some corner of his past memories. Beneath that, he caught the crisp edge of rain and a faint sweetness, like pine resin warmed in sunlight. The combination wrapped around him like a blanket, and before he knew it, his mind was drifting into soft, old memories, of warmth, of Seoul, of things long gone.

A low growl rumbled from his chest, yanking him back to the present and he shook his head sharply to clear his thoughts. A stranger. The scent was foreign to this place, and it seems His wolf didn’t like that there was a stranger. But again? Where was such a pleasant scent coming from?

He crept closer to the ledge, scanning the moonlit trees. Nothing unusual appeared at first. Then it came again, the same scent, but now it carried a strange pull, an edge of fascination and excitement. Could it be some animal nearby?

At that moment, a shadow moved behind a distant tree. Jimin growled low. Someone dared to approach him? But he hadn’t crossed into another animal territory when he came here. His scent spiked sharply, and whatever it was must have sensed it, because the shadow shifted again, and this time Jimin clearly saw the silhouette of a human.

Humans were dangerous. He needed to get away. With a fiercer growl, Jimin turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. His ears flicked wildly, listening for pursuit, for the snap of dogs or the thunder of hooves. But nothing followed. No barking. No hoofbeats.

He slowed to a cautious trot, ears swiveling, lungs pulling in the night air.

Silence. The forest was calm again. And the intoxicating scent… gone.

A strange ache tugged at him, something like disappointment. But he shoved it down. Better this way. He didn’t need humans. He didn’t need anyone. Lowering his head, he slipped deeper into the forest, letting the night swallow him whole.

“Hyung! Hyung, you won’t believe what we saw!”

Two boys came bursting into the wooden house, breathless from running, shoving at each other in their scramble through the doorway. They nearly tripped over the threshold and sprawled across the floor, but somehow caught themselves at the last second, breaking into noisy laughter.

“You two have no idea how much trouble you’re in,” drawled the red-haired one from an armchair, watching them with an amused smirk. He leaned lazily on the armrest, chin propped in one hand.

The laughter died immediately when a tall, broad-shouldered young man stepped out from the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishcloth. His frown was enough to make both boys freeze.

“How many times,” he asked slowly, twisting the cloth tighter between his hands, “have you been told not to wander the forest at night?”

“Jungkook, we’re done for,” the chestnut-haired boy whispered sideways without moving his lips. “Back away. Slowly. Tactical retreat. And whatever you do, don’t look him in the eyes.”

“Taehyung. You do know I can hear you, right?” Jin arched a brow and strode toward them.

“Hyung, just listen! This time it’s real, we saw something unbelievable!” the younger one pleaded, lower lip jutting out in a sulk.

“Unbelievable, huh?” Jin snapped the dishcloth at them, smacking both on the sides with practiced precision. “Namjoon’s been out searching for you for two hours because of your stunt. Two hours. Do you ever think about anyone but yourselves?”

“Ahhh, Jin hyung, that hurts!” the boys yelped in unison, hopping around as he swatted them again and again.

“I’ll show you what real pain feels like if you sneak out one more time,” Jin scolded, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile.

On the armchair, the redhead burst out laughing, clearly entertained. He’d seen this exact scene play out more times than he could count.

“What a nightmare. How am I supposed to get any sleep in this house with you two always making noise?” grumbled a dark-haired boy as he came down the stairs. “You snuck out again, didn’t you?”

“This time they’ve probably cooked up a new excuse. I wonder what it’ll be, flying fish, or maybe a mission to rescue a three-legged hedgehog?” the redhead chimed in from the armchair with amusement.

“Not at all! We saw a glowing wolf!” Taehyung exclaimed petulantly, rubbing the sore spots on his sides.

Jin lowered his hand and paused for a moment, the damp cloth hanging limply at his side. The room grew a little quieter, and the other two also turned their heads toward him, waiting to see what he’d say.

“It’s true, hyung. You know that place, the waterfall near the heart-shaped rock? Right on top of it stood a white wolf, glowing,” the youngest confirmed, his voice urgent, almost pleading.

The redhead covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter, but the muffled chuckles still slipped through his fingers, echoing around the wooden walls.

“You two are seriously in deep trouble,” the dark-haired one muttered flatly, pushing himself off the stairs and heading into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.

“A glowing wolf?” Jin repeated, his brows lifting in great interest. His tone shifted, less scolding now, more curious.

“Yes, hyung, that’s exactly what we saw,” both boys said eagerly, their voices overlapping as if to convince him.

“I’ll show you what’s glowing right now, my hand, striking you at lightning speed!” Jin barked, swinging the wet cloth down even harder. They yelped and dodged, though not very successfully. Despite the noise, they knew Jin wasn’t truly angry; his scent didn’t carry the sharp burn of wrath, but rather the heavier note of worry, tinged faintly with relief that they’d returned unharmed.

Just then, the front door creaked open. A draft swept in, carrying the scent of the forest, and with it, the steady, grounding presence of the head alpha. He stepped inside with a stern expression, shoulders squared, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling firmly on the two culprits. His cedarwood scent pressed into the air, darker than usual, soaked through with the damp heaviness of storm-washed earth. The weight of it made the atmosphere feel tight, like a storm about to break.

The boys instantly lowered their heads in shame, toes curling against the floor. Jin straightened, turning toward him. The teasing lilt he’d used with the younger ones softened, becoming more respectful. He approached, his tone carrying calm reassurance.

“Alpha, the food will be ready soon. Let’s sit and talk afterward. Besides, you should calm down a little, your anger’s made the air in here so thick it’s hard to breathe. I’m already feeling dizzy.”

As he spoke, Jin released a steady wave of soothing pheromones into the room, their warmth drifting through the tense air like soft smoke. He wasn’t just joking about the heaviness; he was genuinely trying to ease the sharp edges of Namjoon’s temper before it settled too deeply into everyone’s skin.

Namjoon drew in a long, steady breath, shoulders rising and falling as if to rein in his temper, before he turned and walked into the kitchen. Jin sighed softly and followed after him.

“You two, come on, you must be hungry,” Jin called back over his shoulder to the younger boys. His tone wasn’t harsh anymore, just weary. Like scolded children, Taehyung and Jungkook trailed after him with lowered heads, their usual spark dimmed.

Everyone was already gathered around the large wooden table, nearly finished with their meal, though the air was still heavy with tense scents mixing together.

“Where were you?” Namjoon finally broke the silence after taking a sip of water, his deep voice heavy with restrained anger. “I searched the forest for you for two hours.”

“Namjoon…” Jin placed a calming hand over his, fingers firm but gentle, as though reminding him to soften his tone.

“They were at the heart-shaped waterfall,” Hoseok chimed in with a grin, his words muffled by food still in his mouth.

“Hoseok, let them explain it themselves,” Namjoon cut in, his voice firm enough to still the room.

“Hyung, Taehyung and I were chasing a rabbit,” Jungkook admitted at last, his gaze fixed on the table. “We wanted to bring it back for Jin-hyung so he could roast it for dinner, but… we lost track of time. We didn’t even realize how far in we’d gone.”

Namjoon’s eyes sharpened. “And how many times do I have to warn you? Going deep into the forest is dangerous. There could be coyote, or worse. Besides, I’ve made it clear that hunting and gathering food is the duty of the alphas. Yoongi, Hoseok, and I bring back more than enough to feed everyone.” His tone had cooled slightly, but the reprimand still lingered in every word.

“Yeah, but Jungkook’s an alpha too,” Taehyung muttered, refusing to look up. “If it came down to it, he could protect himself, and me.”

“He is not presented yet,” Yoongi finally spoke, his voice calm but edged with warning. He had been quiet until now, but his words carried weight. “That’s why you both need to listen to your elders and be cautious. By being reckless, you don’t just put yourselves at risk, you put the whole pack in danger. And you worry us as well.”

“Yoongi-hyung, you too?” Jungkook grumbled, his jaw tightening. “So what if I haven’t presented yet? You can tell from my scent that I’m an alpha. I’m already strong enough to defend myself. You can’t just lock me up like some little kid,” His voice snapped sharp, rising too quickly.

but before he could finish, a low growl rumbled through the room.

It came from Namjoon.

The sound was primal, carrying authority so heavy it made the air quiver. Both boys froze instantly, their bodies stiff, every instinct bowing to the head alpha’s dominance. Even the table seemed to fall silent around them.

Jin released a wave of calming pheromones, letting them spread through the room like a soft breeze, and Namjoon finally closed his eyes with a long sigh.

“No one is saying you’re not strong,” he said, his tone steadier now. “But what if you run into a bear in the forest? You know some of them still live in the mountains, and sometimes they come down. What will you do then?”

“I’ll split its head open with an axe,” Jungkook replied proudly, puffing out his chest.

“And if you don’t have an axe?” Hoseok asked with a doubtful look, tilting his head.

“No axe? Then I’ll find a sharp stick and skewer it,” Taehyung cut in quickly, smug as ever.

“And if you can’t find a sharp stick?” Jin countered, leaning forward with one brow raised.

“Then I’ll stab it in the heart with a knife,” Taehyung said again, still full of pride.

“And what if you left your knife at home?” Yoongi’s dry voice broke in from the side, clearly entertained by the whole exchange.

“Left it at home? Didn’t bring with me?” Jungkook frowned, genuinely thoughtful.

“Yes, you didn’t bring it,” Namjoon confirmed with a raised brow.

“Then we’ll run for it, what else can we do?” Jungkook said matter-of-factly, shrugging.

“And if you can’t outrun it?” Hoseok pressed, now grinning at how seriously the boys were playing along.

“Then we’ll climb a tree,” Taehyung declared without hesitation.

“And what if there aren’t any trees nearby?” Jin asked with mock curiosity.

Taehyung burst out laughing. “Hyung, what kind of forest has no trees?”

“You’d be surprised. There are forests like that, treeless,” Yoongi noted in a dead-serious voice, though the teasing was clear beneath it.

“Wait, whose side are you on, ours or the bear’s?!” Taehyung shouted in outrage.

The elders erupted in loud laughter, leaving Taehyung and Jungkook glaring at each other in exasperation.

Hoseok nearly toppled off his chair, clutching his stomach; Yoongi shook his head with a small, amused smirk; and even Namjoon’s serious mask cracked, his fondness for the boys spilling through. Jin only sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment at the ridiculousness of the two youngsters.

“You really can’t be trusted to go into the forest,” he said, though his lips twitched with the ghost of a smile.

When the laughter finally died down, Hoseok leaned forward with curiosity. “And that glowing wolf, did you make it up just to get out of trouble?”

“No, Hoseok-hyung, we really saw it,” Jungkook answered earnestly, his expression deadly serious.

“What wolf?” Namjoon asked, his face sobering again and his scent had already calmed, the anger gone.

“Hyung, we saw a white wolf near the heart-shaped waterfall. It was so beautiful, it looked magical, glowing with this blue radiance, almost like blue flames surrounding it,” Taehyung said in awe, his hands gesturing as if to paint the image in the air.

“And its scent… it was incredible,” Jungkook added, his expression dreamy. “We could barely hold ourselves back from chasing after it.”

That caught Yoongi’s attention. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing tightly over his chest. His dark eyes sharpened with curiosity.

“Kids, you do know wolves are extinct, right? Maybe within the borders of Aurevia’s kingdom a few feral might still remain, but even then it’s rare, and all of them are gray.” His tone was doubtful, clipped.

“That’s right,” Hoseok said, tilting his head as if amused by the idea. “There’s no such thing as a white wolf, let alone a glowing one. You must have imagined it.”

“No, not at all! We saw it clearly. And when I caught its scent, my inner wolf told me, it was an omega,” Jungkook protested, his voice rising.

“See?” Hoseok countered immediately. “That proves your sense of smell is broken. No omegas have been born in decades. They even built special facilities to make sure our kind wouldn’t die out, giving beta humans the ability to have children instead. You know that as well as anyone.” His tone left no room for argument.

The younger boys huffed, both frustrated and offended. Why wouldn’t anyone believe them? They really had seen the glowing white wolf.

“I know what this is,” Jin said suddenly, making everyone glance at him.

“You do?” Yoongi asked with suspicion, though his eyes betrayed a spark of intrigue.

“Yes. This two snuck into Namjoon’s library and read the old myths, the one about the silver moon and the white wolf. And now they’re trying to fool us, so we won’t punish them for sneaking out.”

“What? We didn’t do anything like that! Why won’t you believe us?” Jungkook whined in frustration.

“What myth?” Hoseok asked, curiosity now outweighing his earlier disbelief.

“The old seers spoke of one who would come from beyond this world, born of silver light, the Moon’s Chosen Omega,” Namjoon began, his deep voice cutting through the room. He had been silent until now, simply listening, but his steady cadence drew every gaze to him. “He alone would take the form of the White Wolf, his fur gleaming like starlight against the endless night. His howl would pierce the skies, carrying with it the gift, or the curse, of transformation.”

“Some say the White Wolf will free mankind, allowing them to embrace the truth of their nature. Others whisper that he will bring ruin, when man and beast no longer know where one ends and the other begins. But all agree on this; When the Silver Moon calls, the White Wolf will answer, and Aurevia will never be the same.” Jin finished the recitation solemnly, his voice soft but steady.

The younger boys listened with wide eyes, captivated by the story. For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence, as though the words themselves carried weight.

“Yes, but that’s just a legend, not reality,” Yoongi finally said, breaking the tension. He pushed his chair back and stood. “These two little rule-breakers still deserve punishment.”

“Exactly,” Jin agreed smoothly, already switching tones. “First punishment option, washing all the used dishes. Second, cleaning up the house.”

The younger ones groaned in unison, dragging their feet dramatically, but the elders ignored them, already leaving the kitchen. Hoseok chuckled under his breath, Yoongi smirked faintly, and Namjoon’s expression returned to its usual calm, but his sharp cedarwood scent lingered, betraying that his thoughts were still far from at ease.