Seong-min burst through the door like a storm.
He hadn't intended to follow.
Had told himself Ji-hwan needed space.
But Myung-su's words had tormented him:
"He's doing something reckless. And he's doing it alone."
So when he discovered the secret door behind the ancient shrine, he followed his instincts.
Now—
Now Ji-hwan reclined on the stone floor, white and shaking.
And on his chest, below the collar of his robe,
a pale shimmering mark, the shape of a broken lotus.
Seong-min fell beside him, hands extending—hesitating—trembling.
"Ji-hwan," he whispered. "Wake up."
No reaction.
Then—a gasp.
Ji-hwan's eyes snapped open, wide and not fully here. He grabbed Seong-min's wrist.
She's attempting to revise the ending," Ji-hwan struggled. "She wants to kill us again like before. But worse. She wants to snap the string before it ties up—before we tie up."
Seong-min froze.
"Who?"
But Ji-hwan was sliding again.
"The fire. the fire was not the finish. It was the key. She knew I'd attempt to halt it this time. She wants me to. She—"
He struggled—and the tattoo on his chest blazed, bright as a lightning bolt.
Seong-min grabbed his shoulders. "Ji-hwan. You're here. With me. Focus."
And slowly, the light dimmed.
Ji-hwan slumped into him, breathing hard, fingers curled in Seong-min's sleeve.
"Don't let me forget," he whispered. "Not again."
Seong-min held him tighter.
"You won't."
But inside—
He felt the shape of the mark.
And somehow… it was familiar.
Not from stories.
Not from scrolls.
From his own dreams.