That night, I couldn't sleep.
The room was terrifyingly silent. I lay in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, my mind empty. The events of the past kept replaying in my mind—John, the diary, the mysterious words, his distorted face in the wardrobe.
It all… felt so real.
But I no longer knew what was real.
A chill spread through my chest. I turned my head to the side—John's empty bed. He had disappeared as if he had never existed. No one mentioned him. No one remembered him.
Except for me.
I gripped the blanket, trying to calm myself. Maybe I was just obsessed. Maybe… it was all just a long dream.
But if it was a dream, why did I still feel John's cold breath by my ear?
*Click.*
I jumped.
Something moved.
I sat up, eyes fixed on the wardrobe.
The door… was slowly opening.
I held my breath. The darkness inside the wardrobe was deep and endless, like a bottomless black hole. My throat was dry. I wanted to run, but my legs felt frozen.
Then, from the darkness, a voice spoke.
"Do you remember?"
I shivered. The voice… wasn't John's. It was deeper, heavier, as if coming from somewhere far away.
I shook my head, trying to escape this illusion. But then, a hand reached out from the wardrobe—cold, bony—but this time… it wasn't just pulling the door.
It grabbed my hand.
I screamed.
My body was pulled forward. I struggled, but the force was too strong. A cold wind swept through, and in the blink of an eye—
I was no longer in the room.
I stood in a strange space.
No walls. No ceiling. Nothing but endless darkness stretching far and wide.
I turned around, panicked.
No way out.
No one was here.
Except for John.
He stood a few steps away from me, his eyes empty, staring at me. But this time, he didn't seem as terrifying as before. John's face… looked oddly sad.
"I'm sorry," he said.
I froze.
Sorry?
Before I could ask, the space around us suddenly trembled. A strong wind blew, carrying with it blurry images appearing in the air.
Memories.
Strange but familiar images.
A garden with white flowers.
An old house with stained glass windows.
And… me.
Not the me of now.
I wore an old-fashioned outfit, standing in the garden, smiling at a boy.
That boy… was John.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Did we… used to know each other?" I whispered.
John nodded slowly. "Not just know each other. We were… everything to each other."
My heart raced.
Everything to each other?
The memories continued to appear. I saw John and I as children, running down a path covered in yellow leaves, laughing in the sunset. I saw us sitting under a tree, reading together. I saw John… looking at me with gentle eyes, but filled with sadness.
Then, the scene changed.
Darkness descended.
The garden vanished. The old house burned in a sea of flames.
John kneeled on the ground, blood pouring from a wound on his chest.
And I…
I stood before him, holding a blood-soaked knife.
I killed him.
I felt my heart stop.
No. It couldn't be.
But the images in front of me were too clear.
I—*in a past life*—killed John.
John looked up at me, his eyes not blaming, only filled with pain and despair.
"Why…?" he asked.
But I didn't answer. I just watched him die in my hands.
I screamed.
The memories shattered like glass. I fell straight into the dark abyss, my hand reaching out in vain.
In the chaos, I heard John's voice whispering in my ear.
"Now you understand, don't you?"
I opened my eyes.
I was back in the room.
The room was as silent as if nothing had ever happened.
But my hand… was still covered in blood.
Darkness descended again.
I didn't know how long I had been unconscious. When I opened my eyes, I found myself standing in a completely different space.
It was no longer the dormitory. No longer my familiar room.
Surrounding me was a forest.
Trees grew densely, their dark leaves swaying in the cold wind. The ground was covered with dry leaves, making a rustling sound with every movement I made. There was no light from the moon or street lamps. Only a faint, dim light from somewhere far off, flickering like a candle in the night.
I tried to stay calm. Where was this? Was it a dream? Or a forgotten memory?
Suddenly, a cold wind swept across my neck.
Someone was watching me.
I turned quickly.
No one.
But I could clearly feel that gaze. A deep, unsettling sensation, as though something was hiding in the darkness, waiting for me to come closer.
Then—
*Crack.*
A small noise echoed.
I looked down.
Among the dry leaves, there was something.
An old photo, torn at the corner, blurry as though buried in the earth for a long time. I bent down to pick it up.
My heart raced.
In the photo… was me.
But what was strange was that I didn't remember taking this photo. I was standing next to someone else—a boy with black hair, his gaze distant as if trapped between two worlds.
John.
I shivered.
Why was this photo here?
Why was I in it?
And… why couldn't I remember anything?
I stared at the photo, trying to search my memory, but my mind was blank.
Then—
*Crack.*
Another noise.
This time, from behind me.
I turned.
There was a shadow.
Beneath the dark canopy, in the misty haze, a figure stood.
I held my breath.
John.
He stood there, his eyes darkened, his face expressionless. But this time, he didn't move closer. He didn't say anything. He just stood still, watching me.
For some reason, I felt… something different.
No longer the threat from before. No longer that twisted smile or the cold, bony hand gripping me.
Instead, there was an ambiguous sadness.
John slowly raised his hand, pointing at me.
"Don't you remember?" His voice rang out, like a breeze.
I gripped the photo tightly, trying to find an answer.
"Remember what?" I asked.
John tilted his head, his eyes deep like an endless abyss.
"About me."
A sharp pain shot through my head.
I staggered, feeling like something was twisting into my memory, trying to pull out the pieces buried deep within.
Flashes of images flickered in my mind—
A path covered with red maple leaves.
Laughter echoing beneath a fall sky.
A promise.
Then…
Blood.
I opened my eyes wide, my breath quickening.
John was still standing there, waiting.
"You forgot about me." He said, his voice no longer cold. Only emptiness remained.
I couldn't answer.
Because I didn't know what he was talking about.
But deep inside, something stirred.
A forgotten memory.
An unfulfilled promise.
And now, John had returned to claim it.
I didn't remember.
But that didn't mean it hadn't happened.
The dull pain in my head still lingered. The blurry images flashed like a reel of film being reversed—sometimes clear, sometimes distorted, making it impossible to tell what was real and what was a dream.
I looked at John.
He still stood there, in the mist, no longer the terrifying figure he once was. But his presence brought something else—a lingering haunting, as though I had been trapped in something I couldn't even recognize.
I gripped the photo tightly.
"What are you talking about?" I spoke up, trying to stay calm.
John looked at me for a long moment, then slowly walked toward me. Every step he took made a rustling sound on the dry leaves, but there was no vibration, no tremor.
As if… he didn't truly exist.
"I've waited for you for so long," John said.
His words sliced through my mind like a knife.
Waited for me?
For how long?
Why?
I stepped back instinctively. "What… are you trying to say?"
John stopped, his gaze thoughtful. "You really don't remember anything?"
The pain in my head suddenly flared up stronger. I clutched my temples, breathing heavily. Flash images appeared—
A promise.
A torrential rainstorm.
A cold, trembling hand gripping mine.
And a whisper in the night: "I won't let you forget."
I opened my eyes wide.
John was standing right in front of me.
He raised his hand. His cold fingers touched my forehead.
In that moment, the world around me shattered.
I saw the past.
Everything was no longer the dark forest.
I was standing in a small room, with soft yellow light reflecting off the old walls. Outside the window, it was raining. The raindrops tapped against the roof, blending with the sound of thunder.
On the bed beside me, two children were sitting closely together.
One of them was me.
The other—
Was John.
But not the John of now.
It was John from a past life.
I couldn't breathe.
Too much information. Too many things I couldn't understand.
I wanted to step back, to run away, but my legs wouldn't move.
John—or rather, his past self—was looking at me.
That child had big, clear eyes, but they carried an indescribable sadness.
"I'm scared," John whispered.
I didn't remember what I said.
But I saw myself reaching out, holding his hand.
And I made a promise.
An important promise.
A promise I had forgotten.
John gripped my hand tightly, his eyes full of despair.
"I don't want to leave you."
I felt the cold from his hand. A nameless fear enveloped us, as if something was about to take him away from me.
I saw myself—
Making a promise to John.
What promise?
I couldn't hear clearly.
But I saw myself holding him tightly.
Then everything went dark.
I returned to the present.
I collapsed to the ground, my heart pounding in my chest.
John was still standing there, staring at me without blinking.
"Do you remember now?"
I didn't answer.
Because I wasn't sure if I actually *wanted* to remember.
But there was one thing I was certain of.
That promise from long ago… had never been fulfilled.
And John had come back to remind me of it.
What had I promised?
That question haunted me even after I had returned to reality.
I sat on the cold ground, my breath unsteady. The images from before were still imprinted in my mind—too vivid to be a dream, yet too surreal for me to accept as reality.
John didn't look away. His eyes remained deep and unreadable, holding something I couldn't name.
"You still don't remember?"
John's voice was as soft as the wind, yet it weighed on my chest like a heavy burden.
I swallowed dryly. "I don't… I don't know."
John knelt down, slowly reaching toward me.
Once again, I felt the cold.
His hand touched my face—freezing, yet strangely familiar. I couldn't move, couldn't turn away. All I could do was stare into those dark, endless eyes and feel myself falling into an invisible abyss.
"You made a promise to me."
Those words were gentle, but they felt like they were strangling me.
What had I promised?
And why had I forgotten?
—
Blurred images surfaced once more.
An old shrine, hidden deep within the dark forest. Moss-covered walls, rotting wooden pillars.
And me—
Standing in the middle of that shrine, with John.
The rain poured down relentlessly.
John was trembling, rainwater mixing with tears on his face. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I could see the desperation in his eyes.
And then I saw myself—
Holding a knife.
A strange pain stabbed through my chest. My breathing became ragged, as if I was about to face something I *could not* accept.
A voice echoed in my head—
"If you truly want to be together forever… You must complete this ritual."
John had said that.
No—
Not John.
Something had *controlled* him.
I saw myself raising the knife, carving a strange mark onto my arm. Blood dripped onto the ground.
And I said—
"I promise. No matter what happens, I will never leave you."
"Even in death."
Everything after that blurred.
But I could *feel* it—
I had died.
Both of us… had died that night.
—
My eyes snapped open.
The wind howled through the trees. A chilling cold wrapped around me, making me shiver.
John was still kneeling in front of me.
Watching. Waiting.
"You remember now, don't you?" His voice was hoarse.
I opened my mouth to answer—
But I didn't know what to say.
I remembered.
But that didn't mean I *wanted* to.
I looked down at my hands.
On my wrist—beneath my sleeve—there was still a faint scar.
A cursed promise.
A bond that could never be broken.
I shook my head in panic. "No… That's impossible. I—I *couldn't* have died before!"
John was silent.
Then, he smiled.
A sorrowful smile.
"You still don't believe me?"
I didn't answer.
I *couldn't.*
John slowly stood up and took a step back. He reached up, pulling down his collar—revealing his neck.
A long scar, like the mark of a fatal wound.
A scar… that *I* had made.
I froze.
Coldness spread through my body, like I was sinking into an abyss of ice.
No.
No, this couldn't be real.
But I couldn't deny it anymore.
We had died.
We were trapped between two worlds.
And John had returned—to fulfill our promise.
The promise that we would *never* leave each other.
I gasped, trying to scramble away. "No… I can't… I *don't want to*—!"
John stepped forward, his eyes glowing in the darkness.
"You don't have a choice."
The shadows thickened. A chilling force wrapped around me, rendering me motionless.
And then, I heard John's voice—whispering in my ear.
"The promise… must be kept."
The world crumbled.
—
**DARKNESS CONSUMED ME.**
**LAUGHTER ECHOED.**
**I DISAPPEARED.**