The ramyeon was too hot, but Park Soyeon slurped it anyway.
"Unnie, you're going to burn your tongue," her best friend Kim Jiwoo whined from across the tiny table in their favorite pojangmacha. The street food tent was packed with university students escaping the November cold, the air thick with the smell of tteokbokki and soju.
"Worth it," Soyeon mumbled around the noodles, eyes glued to her phone screen. "Oh my God, he finally confessed—"
"Let me guess. Your Chinese novel updated?"
"It's not just a Chinese novel, it's The Prince's Forbidden Physician, and yes, the Fifth Prince finally told her he's been in love with her since chapter forty-three—"
"You're obsessed," Jiwoo laughed, stealing a fishcake from Soyeon's bowl. "It's been years of this. Chinese dramas, Chinese novels, Chinese history podcasts. When are you going to actually visit China instead of just reading about dead emperors?"
Soyeon finally looked up, pushing her glasses up her nose. "After I pass my medical licensing exam. Which is in three months. Which means I should be studying right now instead of—why are you looking at me like that?"
Jiwoo's eyes sparkled with mischief. The dangerous kind that usually ended with Soyeon doing something she regretted.
"So... funny story. I made an appointment."
"An appointment for what?"
"A mudang! You know, a shaman? Fortune teller? I found this really famous one in Bukchon. She's supposed to be incredible—"
"Jiwoo-ya, no—"
"Come on! Don't you want to know your future? If you'll pass your exam? If you'll meet a handsome doctor and fall in love?" Jiwoo clasped her hands together dramatically. "Plus, she's in one of those traditional hanok houses. Very aesthetic. We can take pictures."
Soyeon sighed, putting down her chopsticks. This was a losing battle and they both knew it. Jiwoo had been her best friend since middle school, and in all those years, Soyeon had never successfully won an argument against her.
"Fine. But if she tries to sell us weird talismans, I'm leaving."
"Deal!"
The hanok was tucked away in a narrow alley in Bukchon, the traditional neighborhood north of Seoul. Modern high-rises loomed in the distance, but here, time seemed to bend backward. Traditional tile roofs curved against the gray sky, and the smell of wood smoke drifted from somewhere nearby.
"This is creepy," Soyeon muttered, pulling her coat tighter. The November wind was sharp and unforgiving.
"It's atmospheric," Jiwoo corrected, consulting her phone's GPS. "Okay, it should be.…this one!"
The house looked older than the others, the wood dark with age. A simple cloth banner hung by the door with faded characters Soyeon couldn't quite read. No signs, no advertisements. Just an old wooden door that looked like it hadn't been opened in decades.
Jiwoo knocked.
For a long moment, nothing.
Then the door creaked open.
The woman who appeared was ancient. That was Soyeon's first thought. Not just old, but ancient, like she had stepped out of a Joseon Dynasty painting. Her face was a map of wrinkles, her back bent, her hands gnarled like tree roots. But her eyes.….her eyes were dark.
They fixed immediately on Soyeon.
"You," the old woman said, her voice like rustling paper. "You're the one."
Soyeon blinked. "Uh. I'm here with my friend? She made an appointment?"
The woman ignored Jiwoo entirely. She smiled, revealing teeth that were surprisingly white. The smile made Soyeon's skin prickle.
"Come in, child. I've been waiting for you."
"Waiting for—" Soyeon started, but Jiwoo was already pushing past her excitedly.
"See? She has a sense about these things!"
The interior of the hanok was dim, lit only by oil lamps that cast dancing shadows on the walls. Incense burned somewhere, thick and sweet. The room was cluttered with objects, statues, scrolls, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and in the corner, covered with a cloth, something large and rectangular.
The old woman shuffled to a low table and gestured for them to sit. Jiwoo plopped down immediately, but Soyeon remained standing, uneasy.
"What's under the cloth?" she asked.
The old woman's smile widened. "Curious, are you? That's good. Curiosity opens doors." She chuckled at her own words, a dry rasping sound. "Literally, in your case."
"What?"
"Sit, sit. Let me see your friend first."
Jiwoo eagerly held out her hand for a palm reading, chattering about her upcoming job interviews. The old woman hummed and muttered, tracing lines on Jiwoo's palm, predicting success and romance and all the usual fortune-teller nonsense.
Soyeon zoned out, her attention drifting to the covered object in the corner. It was tall, maybe two meters. The cloth covering it was embroidered with symbols she didn't recognize. Not Korean. Not Chinese either, though similar.
"—and you'll meet him in the spring," the old woman was saying to Jiwoo. "Now. You." She turned to Soyeon. "Your turn."
"I'm fine, actually—"
"I don't need your palm." The old woman stood abruptly, with surprising strength for someone so frail. "I need your help. These old bones can't reach the high shelves anymore. Come. Help me fetch something from the back room."
"Unnie, just help her," Jiwoo whispered. "Don't be rude."
Soyeon bit back a sigh and followed the old woman through a narrow doorway. The back room was even darker, cluttered with more boxes and scrolls and jars of things Soyeon didn't want to examine too closely.
"There," the old woman said, pointing to a high shelf. "The red box."
But Soyeon wasn't looking at the shelf. She was looking at the corner, where another cloth-covered shape stood. Identical to the one in the front room. The cloth was drawn back slightly, and beneath it was a wardrobe.
An antique wardrobe, ornately carved with dragons and phoenixes, the wood so dark it was almost black. Something about it made Soyeon's breath catch. It looked strange, ike it didn't belong in this world.
"What—"
"Beautiful, isn't it?" The old woman was suddenly beside her. When had she moved? "It calls to those with destiny. Does it call to you, child?"
"I don't—" Soyeon shook her head, trying to clear it. Her vision swam. The incense must be too strong back here. "I should go. My friend—"
"Touch it."
"What?"
"Touch the wardrobe. Just once. Humor an old woman."
This was insane. This was absolutely insane. Soyeon should leave, grab Jiwoo, and get out of this creepy house.
But her feet moved forward anyway.
Her hand reached out anyway.
The moment her fingers brushed the wood, it pulsed. Like a heartbeat. Warmth flooded up her arm, and the carved dragons seemed to move in the lamplight.
"That's it," the old woman whispered. "It's chosen you. Do you feel it? Your deepest desire. The world you've dreamed of. It's waiting. All you have to do is open the door."
"I don't—I don't have a deepest desire—"
"Don't you?" The old woman's voice was closer now, right by her ear. "Haven't you spent years lost in stories of another world? Another time? Haven't you wondered what it would be like to live in those pages? To matter in a way you don't here?"
Soyeon's hand was on the wardrobe door handle now. She didn't remember reaching for it.
"One step," the old woman murmured. "That's all. See where it takes you. You can always come back."
"Unnie?" Jiwoo's voice, distant. "You okay back there?"
Soyeon should answer. Should call for help. Should—
She opened the door.
The inside of the wardrobe wasn't empty. It was full of cloth, layers and layers of silk fabric in blues and greens and gold. But behind the fabric, there was light. Warm, golden light, and the smell of...
Was it pine? Jasmine?
"Go on," the old woman said. "Go."
And Soyeon, for reasons she would never be able to explain, stepped inside.