Before Jung's senses tingled with familiarity, he was enveloped by white smoke.
As his eyes opened, his ears picked up sounds, and his skin felt the warm breath of the wind, appearing in a different location.
He stood in front of the door.
It wasn't a magical door, leading to a great room or abyss of nothingness.
But this door meant way more than those mystical entrances.
Not that it differed from any other door in the neighborhood.
Although it was built with common wood and average craftsmanship, Jung preferred this ordinary door over any other existing entry.
"I am going to knock," he said either to Nira, who was holding his hand, or to himself, regaining strength to control his voice.
The woman slapped him on the back.
"You can do it," she encouraged.
Jung nodded and breathed in and out before knocking.
"I am coming!" the familiar voice called out, causing Jung to change his appearance back to his teen face.
