The first thing I felt was pain.
A heavy, throbbing kind of pain that pulsed through my skull like a slow drumbeat. My mouth was dry. My lips were cracked. And when I tried to move, the world tilted sideways.
For a moment, I thought I was still falling.
Then came the smell, earth, smoke, herbs, something strange and clean, like crushed leaves and rainwater.
My head spun as my eyes fluttered open.
The ceiling above me wasn't concrete. It wasn't even painted. It was wood, old wood, uneven planks with tiny beams of sunlight sneaking through the cracks.
The walls were paper.
Paper.
Where the hell am I?
I pushed myself up on trembling elbows, wincing when something tugged at my head. A strip of cloth was wrapped around it, stained a deep brown-red. Someone had bandaged me.
Someone had found me.
The memory came in flashes, the river, the snake, the girl, the fall. Her face. Her terrified eyes.
And then… nothing.
I turned my head and saw her, the same girl, sitting across the room, legs tucked beneath her, her gaze locked on me.
When our eyes met, she gasped, whispering something I didn't understand. Her voice was soft, melodic, filled with words that meant nothing and yet sounded like poetry.
"Kamsahamnida…" I murmured, the only Korean word I heard Kat repeating a thousand times watching her K-shows.
Thank you. I think.
She blinked, startled, then ran out of the room calling for someone. The echo of her voice faded into the distance.
Silence.
I sat there, surrounded by a room that looked like it had been borrowed from a history museum. The low table. The porcelain bowls. The rice paper door. My brain tried to rationalize it all, maybe a reenactment village, a film set, a prank even.
But no, the air felt too real. The ground too cold. And my phone.
Where was my phone?
I scrambled to the corner where my hoodie and jeans were folded neatly, my shoes placed beside them. My phone sat on top, cracked screen, black display.No signal. No Wi-Fi. Just me and the void.
My throat tightened. "No… no, no, no."
This wasn't happening.It couldn't be.
I was supposed to be in LA.I was supposed to be complaining about traffic, or ordering overpriced coffee, or texting Kate about how bored I was.
Not… here.Not in whatever century this was.
The paper door slid open again, and the older woman entered, calm, deliberate, her gaze both kind and cautious. She spoke gently, slowly, as if afraid to scare me.Her tone sounded motherly. I wanted to cry.
I tried to ask where I was, who she was, what happened, but my words only made her frown with concern. She touched my forehead, muttered something, then gestured for me to lie back down.
I obeyed.
Not because I trusted her.Because I didn't know what else to do.
My chest heaved as tears threatened. I bit them back, hard. Crying wouldn't help. Crying wouldn't bring me home.
What if I never go back?What if… this is my life now?
The thought hit like a storm. My pulse quickened. My breath came in short bursts. I felt like I was floating again, but this time, I wasn't falling through time. I was falling through myself.
I turned my head toward the window. Outside, I saw mountains draped in mist and sunlight glittering on the river. It was heartbreakingly beautiful. Unreal.And yet… all I could think was how far away home felt.
Maybe this was the price for curiosity.
For following Kate.
For saying yes instead of staying in bed.
I buried my face in my hands. "I want to go home," I whispered into the quiet. "Please… I just want to go home."
But the silence that answered me wasn't cruel, it was gentle.
As if the universe was saying, Not yet.