It's been weeks since I started living with them. I still don't understand most of what they say, but I've learned to read their faces, their gestures, the rhythm of how they move.
It's strange, I've started to notice things without really understanding them. Still, it's a lot better than two weeks ago, when I first woke up.
That morning feels like another lifetime.
The first thing I remember was pain, a heavy, pounding ache behind my eyes, and then, a face. A young girl sitting beside me.
And the second day, she said something, words that sounded like music I couldn't follow, and I just blinked, trying to piece together where I was.
When I didn't respond, she got up and crossed the room. The space was small, almost claustrophobic. She poured water from a clay pot into a small cup and came back, murmuring something softly.
I didn't understand a word.
So she smiled, awkwardly, raised the cup to her lips in a gesture, and then offered it to me.
"Oh… you want me to drink?" I muttered, my voice hoarse and strange in my own ears. She nodded quickly, as if we'd finally found common ground in the simplest human act, thirst.
That was the beginning.
Days passed, and I learned little fragments about them. They were pilgrims, travelers on a journey to someplace better, someplace I couldn't name. We walked through new villages where faces turned to stare at me. Some smiled, others whispered. A stranger among strangers.
A foreigner they couldn't quite place.
The girl's name, I later learned, was Hyejin. I hope I'm saying it right, she'd point to the sun every time she said it, smiling so bright I didn't need a translation. "Sunlight." That's what it meant. Took me a week to figure it out, a whole week of pointing, mimicking, guessing.
She tried to teach me her language, and I tried to teach her mine, but it was chaos.
Laughter, confusion, a lot of blank stares. Eventually, she started calling me Ha-neul, and everyone else followed. Her mother, the villagers, they said it so naturally that I almost started answering to it without thinking. I don't even know what it means.
Maybe it's their way of saying stranger. Or maybe it's something kinder.
Slowly, I started feeling… not at home, but something close to it.
Safe, maybe.
Seen.
But at night, when everything goes quiet, I lie awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about my real home, my dad, my little brother Aiden, my Cat, my stupid closet, my playlists, my mom's homemade strawberry cake that my dad tried to remake, cooling on the counter.
I missed Kate.
And it hits me all over again:
I might never go back.
That I'm stuck here, wherever here is.
In the past.
In a language I don't speak.
In a world that doesn't know me.
And for the first time… I don't know who I am anymore.
We left before dawn.
The air smelled of damp earth and half-burned wood, and the sky hadn't decided if it wanted to be day yet. Hye-jin and her mother packed their few things in quiet urgency, baskets, folded cloth, small trinkets wrapped in linen, while I stood at the doorway, hugging myself against the morning chill.
I didn't ask why we were leaving the last village; I didn't need to. People here didn't just move, they escaped. Maybe from rumors, maybe from taxes, maybe from memories too heavy to stay with.
And me? I was just drifting along in someone else's life, with no idea which direction home even was anymore.
Hye-jin's mother caught me staring at the horizon and smiled faintly. She didn't speak my language, but the meaning was clear enough: You come too.
So I did.
By midday, we arrived at Sungjoo Village, tucked between green hills and silver streams. It was small but alive, children playing with sticks, women pounding rice, men mending nets under sunlit roofs. The people welcomed Hye-jin and her mother easily, and to my surprise, they smiled at me, too.
An outsider, yet somehow not unwelcome.
Weeks passed before I realized a whole month had gone by. A month of strange peace.
I had started learning how to grind herbs, mend fishing nets, and eat with my hands without looking like a total fool. Still, I missed home in sharp, stupid bursts, my Father's bad jokes, greasy diner food, my friends, neon lights, music too loud to think in. Here, everything was quiet, too honest.
The world was old and alive, untouched by smoke or steel. Sometimes I caught myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, I could stay.
But that thought didn't last long.
The morning of the fishing trip, the village buzzed with excitement. The women gathered with nets slung over their shoulders, laughter mixing with the rush of the tide. Hye-jin was practically glowing; it was her first time joining them. She grabbed my hand, pulling me along like I was her big sister instead of a lost stranger.
The sea was a perfect mirror, the water cool and glassy as we waded in. The first splash hit my face and I yelped, she laughed, splashing me harder. It felt good. Real. Like the world had forgiven me for being out of place.
But peace never lasts long in this story of mine.
On the way home, baskets full, laughter still echoing, we saw them.
A line of men across the trail, soldiers maybe, though their armor wasn't uniform.
Hard eyes.
Dirty hands.
Swords drawn.
The women froze, ducking low and so did I instantly.
The air tightened. I followed their gaze to a man standing among the chaos, surrounded by others. The way they encircled him. No, hunted him, made my pulse spike.
The first clash of metal was deafening.
Screams tore through the air. Two guards fell; their blood hit the ground with a sound I'll never forget. The man in the middle, young, beautiful, proud, terrified, barely deflected the next strike.
He was going to die.
And I don't know what came over me. Maybe instinct. Maybe stupidity. But I couldn't just stand there.
"Hye-jin," I whispered, though she couldn't understand me. I gestured that I'd be right back. She shook her head violently, clutching my sleeve.
I gave her a small smile, as I wrapped a cloth around my face, leaving only my eyes visible as I slipped away from the group quietly.
The air grew heavier as I crept closer. The men's shouts were like thunder; the clash of blades, like lightning splitting the earth. My hands trembled as I grabbed a fallen sword from the dirt, cold, heavier than I'd imagined.
This is insane, I thought. I play this in games, not in real life.
As I breath in.
Then a man turned toward me, eyes narrowing. "Who?" he started, but I moved first.
Everything slowed.
The sword met his arm before I realized I'd swung.
He screamed; the others turned.
The sound of my heartbeat filled the world.
I ducked, blocked, swung, again and again. My body moved like it had trained for this moment all my life, even though I knew it hadn't. It was messy, chaotic, wild. My breath tore out of me in ragged gasps as sparks flew from every strike.
The sword rang against another blade, and pain flared up my wrist. I pivoted, kicked, and slammed the hilt into the man's ribs. He went down.
Another came. Faster.
I spun aside, caught his sleeve, used his own weight to drag him down. Sand, blood, shouting, everything became blur and color and sound.
My arms shook, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not until the circle around the young man broke apart.
One man lunged for him. I stepped in front, raised the sword, and parried. The shock burned through my arms, my knees nearly giving way. With a scream that didn't sound like mine, I drove the flat of my blade into his shoulder. He fell, cursing in a language I couldn't understand.
Then, silence.
The young man's eyes met mine.
His clothes were torn, his cheek streaked with blood, but he stood tall, chest rising and falling. There was disbelief in his face. And something else.
Fear, maybe.
I felt something too. Like the stars aligned. Like lights were turned.
I dropped the sword. My fingers wouldn't stop shaking.
Hye-jin's voice broke through the haze — soft at first, then desperate. "Ha-neul! Ha-neul!"
She ran straight to me, tears on her cheeks, and wrapped her arms around me so tightly I could barely breathe. As she dragged me away, whispering something to me.
I nodded, still dazed. As we turned to leave, the young man called after me.
"Nugusimnikka?" he demanded, his tone sharp, trembling between awe and accusation.
I froze, half-turned to look at him but Hye-jin's hand tightened on mine, pulling me back toward the forest.
The last thing I saw was his face, framed in the dying light, blood on his chin and eyes full of a thousand questions.
And all I could think, over and over, as the trees swallowed us whole, was—
What the hell just happened?
And That boy is sooo fine. God!