A Laugh in the Ruins

My hospital room is suffused with that oddly sterile sunlight you only ever see in medical facilities. It seeps in through the slatted blinds, illuminating the crumpled tissues on my bedside table and the get-well cards propped up by well-meaning relatives and friends. I find myself absently smoothing the wrinkles out of my blanket, nerves twisting inside me. Today, I'm finally free to leave.

A gentle knock pulls me from my reverie. Luke steps in, still wearing clothes borrowed from Amiel—a simple T-shirt and jeans that look unnaturally casual on a man with such a regal bearing. His posture is ramrod-straight, and there's a hint of color on his cheeks. It still strikes me how incongruous he seems in a modern hospital ward.

"The doctor says you've been discharged," he announces, clearing his throat.

I exhale relief warring with a touch of unease. Outside these walls, life has continued without me—traffic jams, social media updates, families going about their days. Meanwhile, I've been in a cocoon of bed rest and checkups. With a determined nod, I rise, gathering my things.

Before I can protest, Luke puts his baseball cap on my head.

"To cover you," he murmurs, gaze dropping to the floor. His voice is barely more than a hush.

The heat warms my cheeks. There's something adorable about his protectiveness. "Thank you," I whisper. I slip the cap on, pulling it even lower over my eyes as if that simple visor can hide the swirl of anxiety inside me.

We finalize my discharge paperwork—Luke hovers awkwardly as a nurse runs through instructions, eyes flicking to the doors every time a squeaky-wheeled cart passes. Once I sign the last line, a weight lifts from my shoulders. I glance at the bed I've occupied for weeks and step out into the corridor, my heart pounding with excitement and an odd sense of loss.

The world outside is sweltering. Summer wraps the city in humid warmth that's entirely different from the dry, air-conditioned cool of the hospital. Cars roll by, horns beeping. Pedestrians stride past, some in business suits, others in casual summer attire, and I realize how long I've been missing this everyday bustle.

Luke, on the other hand, looks overwhelmed by the assault on his senses—bright neon signs, clashing music from storefronts, and the chaotic swirl of people. He tenses like a coiled spring whenever a bus rumbles by or a street vendor shouts. I nudge him gently with my elbow.

"Welcome to Seoul," I tease, unable to hide a smile. "It's a little… intense." He exhales, sweeping his gaze over the passing traffic. "I've fought trolls, conjurers, and dragons," he murmurs, "but this is… something else."

Despite his words, he offers me his arm, and my heart tugs at the sincerity in his eyes.

"May I… hold your hand?" I slip my fingers through his. "Always."

The simple act of standing together on a Seoul sidewalk, our hands linked, makes me feel braver. We decide to take a short cab ride—Luke staring wide-eyed at the taxi's automated fare system—until we arrive at the bustling streets of Insadong. Once we step onto its pedestrian-friendly lanes, the city's heartbeat seems to transform into a lively hum of culture and commerce.

Insadong is an explosion of sights and sounds. Traditional teahouses nestle beside modern coffee shops. Vendors sell handcrafted fans and calligraphy brushes. The air is rich with the aroma of roasted chestnuts, sweet rice cakes, and sizzling hotteok (sweet pancakes). Colorful signboards hang above narrow storefronts, each promising a unique treasure—ceramic dolls, silk scarves, wooden carvings.

Luke's eyes dart from stall to stall. A street musician plays the gayageum—a traditional stringed instrument—infusing the air with a gentle melody that contrasts sharply with the honk of a distant car. I can't help but grin; seeing Luke's quiet wonder at everyday things is… adorable.

We pause at a kiosk selling wooden name stamps. Luke picks one up, curiously running a thumb over the carved Hangul letters.

"In Valeraine," he says, voice tinged with longing, "we have scribes who hand-chisel our royal seals."

I slip my arm through his. "We'll have to get you one made here. We can translate your name into Korean."

That small plan—something so mundane—feels strangely intimate. But my contentment wavers when I spot a cluster of onlookers glancing in our direction. Some whisper to each other; others raise their phones, taking candid shots. My mind flashes to that viral video—Luke wearing my grandmother's floral dress, trying to "blend in." Heat rushes to my cheeks.

Luke notices. He tenses, shoulders squaring. A few gawkers squeak under the force of his "Prince Valeraine Death Stare." I quickly tug the brim of my cap down, half-hiding my face.

"They're just curious," I murmur, forcing a small laugh. "But… let's not tempt fate. I'm calling I-seo."

I dial my friend, voice low as I explain we need backup. She promises she and Amiel will hurry over. Luke visibly relaxes at the mention of allies—though he keeps an arm around my waist, scanning the crowd protectively. Together, we duck into a narrower side street draped with pastel parasols, the gentle clink of their metal frames providing a soothing counterpoint to the lively hustle beyond.

The further we walk, the quieter it becomes. Even the city noise recedes, replaced by the soft shuffle of our footsteps. The alley narrows, the buildings on either side growing older and more quaint until we suddenly step into a space that feels transported from another era. Before us stand cracked marble pillars, vine-draped arches, and timeworn stone steps—as if an ancient temple has sprouted amid modern Seoul.

I draw a sharp breath, running my palm along the cool, rough surface of a pillar. A hush settles over the place, broken only by the distant hum of the city. Luke's eyes widen, and he presses a hand against a chipped relief.

"It's almost like the Hall of Ages in Valeraine," he whispers, voice heavy with awe. "But how—how can this exist here?"

I swallow hard, an odd tingle dancing along my spine. There's a faint thrumming in the air, like a low electric current. Goosebumps prickle my arms in the humid heat.

Footsteps sound behind us—familiar ones. I-seo and Amiel pick their way across the cracked floor, each clutching an iced tea. Relief floods me at the sight of them.

"Finally," I exclaim. "We were feeling a bit… conspicuous."

I-seo takes in the ruined columns and the creeping vines that dangle overhead. "Wow, you two really do find the strangest places," she teases. "This looks like a cross between a forgotten shrine and a movie set."

Amiel, nearly tripping on an upturned stone, regains his balance with a flourish. "I'd say it's more like a hidden gateway. Maybe Rome in Korea—or Valeraine in Korea." He snorts, clearly delighted by the oddity.

Luke simply nods gravely. "It reminds me too much of home. There's magic here," he adds in a lower tone, scanning the carved arches as though expecting them to spring to life at any moment.

The four of us linger, sipping our iced teas, enjoying the unexpected calm. For a moment, I dare to think we can be normal friends exploring a bizarre urban ruin. But Amiel, in true Amiel fashion, grins wickedly and scampers onto a toppled stone dais—a platform that might have once been an altar.

"Gather 'round!" he booms theatrically, adopting a dramatic stance. "Time to regale you with one of our childhood fiascos in Valeraine!"

Luke groans, pressing his palm to his face. "Amiel, don't—"

"Yes, I shall!" Amiel sweeps an arm out.

"Picture it: a grand temple, a pair of mischievous youths tasked with adjusting magical amplifiers—" Luke ducks his head, cheeks coloring, while I-seo and I exchange an amused glance.

"We cranked the volume too high," Luke mutters.

"And what happened?" Amiel continues while trying not to mockingly laugh.

"During the High Priest's solemn sermon, he—" he pauses for effect, "—let out the loudest fart in recorded history!"

Our laughter erupts, echoing off the ancient walls. I nearly spill my iced tea, tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. The comedic absurdity is exactly what we need after the tension of Insadong.

Luke's shoulders shake with suppressed mirth. "They still call it the Fart of the Century," he admits, half-buried in his hands.

Amiel soaks up our laughter like a triumphant bard. "We were never allowed near that temple's magical system again," he adds, delivering the final punchline.

Our giggles slowly subside, replaced by a creeping chill that seeps into the air. The laughter seems to hang in the silence, and suddenly I become aware of how the vines above us are swaying, though there's no wind. It's as if the world around us is holding its breath.

A low, rolling growl of thunder splits the hushed moment. The sky, visible through a jagged gap in the ceiling, begins to darken at an unnatural pace. My pulse quickens. I glance at Luke, seeing the same dread reflected in his eyes.

"Do you feel that?" I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself as goosebumps flare anew.

Luke's answer is to pull me closer. "Stay close, Sena," he murmurs. "It's happening again. The Rift Storm…"

Lightning forks overhead, a dazzling burst that outlines the ruined columns in stark contrast. The wind, sudden and violent, roars through the alley, sending leaves and debris swirling. Another bolt crashes into a toppled archway, showering us with shards of stone. I-seo shrieks, ducking behind Amiel, who tries to shield her with his arms.

Luke grips my hand, voice urgent,

"Sena, hold on!"

The howling storm intensifies, the air crackling with raw magic. I sense it thrumming through my veins, raising every hair on my body. Dust stings my eyes, and I can barely see through the wind-whipped debris. Then, right at my feet, a swirling vortex of shimmering light takes shape—like a portal forming from smoke and sparks.

"LUKE!" I scream, feeling an unseen force tug me upwards. My feet leave the ground. Panic floods my mind.

He lunges for me, determination etched across his face. "I won't let go!" he roars, our hands nearly locking. But a surge of energy blasts him aside; I watch in horror as his figure is wrenched away from my grasp, lost in the swirling chaos.

For one heart-stopping moment, our eyes meet. Then the vortex swallows me whole, and I'm gone, spinning uncontrollably into a void of crackling magic.

End Chapter 23