Memories that haunt you

Jinwoo lay on a splintered floor in an abandoned house, seeking refuge in its silence. The quiet was a bittersweet balm—offering solace yet echoing with the ghosts of lost laughter, betrayal, and bloodshed. Every creak of the ancient wood and every distant whisper dredged up memories he wished to forget, memories that clung to him like the lingering shadow of an old enemy. In that fragile solitude, he wondered if he could ever truly escape the past that had defined his tragic fate.

Jinwoo found a packaged onigiri in a dusty corner of the abandoned house. With a sigh, he unwrapped it and took a bite. His face twisted in a grimace. "Ugh, this is the driest onigiri I've ever had," he muttered, as the stale rice stuck to his teeth.

He looked at the worn wrapper and thought, "This must have been made by the carpenter's daughter on her father's trip. She couldn't even cook properly—this is not an onigiri, it's a mess wrapped in rice."

His bitter laugh died away as the bad taste reminded him of simpler times, now lost to the pain.

Jinwoo stepped out of the house with a heavy heart and the stale taste of onigiri still lingering. As he walked along the empty street, he passed by the small restaurant he used to visit. The building now stood silent and dark, but in his mind, it was filled with the warm memories of a time when it buzzed with life.

He remembered how the old owner would greet him with a gentle smile. "You're always welcome here, Jinwoo," the man would say, offering him a bowl of fresh soup or a plate of warm rice balls. Those simple words had made him feel safe and cared for—a stark contrast to the loneliness he felt now.

Jinwoo walked slowly past the old stone fountain, its gentle trickle a soft counterpoint to the heavy silence of the abandoned town. As he passed, memories of sunlit afternoons came flooding back—days filled with laughter, play, and the warm voices of caring mothers.

He recalled a time when he sat on the edge of the fountain, the cool water whispering around his fingers. Mrs. Yumi had approached him with a tender smile and said, "Jinwoo, come join us! The water is as playful as you are." Her soft voice had made him feel welcome, as if he were the most important boy in the world

Jinwoo walked slowly through the empty street, his mind wandering back to simpler times. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the lively courtyard filled with the playful chaos of his childhood. He recalled how the boys would dash after the hens, their laughter ringing out as they tumbled to the ground.

"Hey, Kenji! Watch out—you're going to fall again!" he remembered shouting, his voice full of mischief. In his mind, he could still hear Kenji's startled laugh as he tripped over his own feet, while Taro and Hiroshi joined in the fun.

"Stop laughing, Taro! You'll make us all fall!" echoed another voice in his memory, playful and carefree.

Jinwoo stood before the crumbling pleasure house—a place he'd been forbidden to visit as a child—and his curiosity burned brighter than the bitter memories it evoked. He had only heard hushed whispers of its secrets, of a world filled with forbidden joys and sorrowful tales, and now he wondered: why was it called the pleasure house?

Drawn by an inexplicable pull, he stepped closer until he found a cracked, dust-covered mirror hanging on the wall. In its shattered reflection, Jinwoo saw himself in a way he'd never seen before: tears streamed down his cheeks while a small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. The contrast of laughter and sorrow in his eyes was almost surreal—a mosaic of a past that was both joyous and heart-wrenching.

One can see that Jinwoo's mind is shattered and messed up. The happy days he once knew are now mixed with dark memories—images of pain, loss, and betrayal. Once full of laughter and hope, he now moves as if he is lost in a world of his own, with empty eyes that speak of endless sorrow. Every moment is a struggle, as his thoughts are caught in a storm of trauma. Even the pleasant memories are drowned in the harsh reality of his past. It is clear to any observer that all his experiences have broken his mind, leaving him confused, alone, and forever haunted by the weight of his pain.