Chapter 19: The Space Between Us
Minjae arrived home earlier than usual, the city's golden hour painting a warm glow across the cracked linoleum floor of their apartment. He kicked off his shoes, silently thankful for a shift cancellation at the bookshop. For once, he had a few hours to himself. Or so he thought.
He set his bag on the table, absentmindedly massaging the sore spot on his shoulder. As he unzipped the front pocket to pull out a notebook, something thin and unfamiliar slid out.
A piece of pale blue parchment.
The same luxurious paper with faint floral etchings—just like the previous note.
But this one was different.
It wasn't a message.
It was a quote.
"The moon does not chase the sun, yet night always returns to her."
Minjae frowned, running his fingers across the ink. It was handwritten again, the strokes delicate and graceful. Feminine. Familiar now in its silent boldness.
Beneath the quote was a line in smaller text:
"Find the place where night forgets itself. That's where I wait."
He reread it three times. There was no signature. No timestamp. Just the subtle scent of dried lavender clinging to the paper.
He turned the parchment over—blank.
Was it a riddle? A reference to a location? A time?
His heart began to race, caught between curiosity and wariness.
There was no telling how it ended up in his bag. No one had touched it since he left the library… unless—
He stopped.
Unless she had been there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Just as before.
The silence in the apartment suddenly felt too loud.
He folded the note and slipped it between the pages of his notebook, deciding not to show Mirae. Not yet. Not until he could make sense of it himself.
He sat at his desk and began scribbling in his journal, trying to break the cryptic message down.
"Where night forgets itself…"
A club?
A park?
A blackout alley?
Or was it metaphorical?
The library?
His old family house?
The question clawed at him, frustratingly just out of reach.
—
Later that evening, Minjae took a walk to clear his head. His steps guided him through familiar corners of Dongdaemun—back alleys lit with old vending machines, graffiti-covered stairways that led nowhere, neon signs blinking half-dead above shuttered arcades.
Nothing stood out.
Not until he passed the footbridge near the old Han Cinema.
There, carved faintly into the rusted guardrail, was something that made him stop.
The exact same quote.
"The moon does not chase the sun, yet night always returns to her."
His breath caught.
No one was around.
No sound but the wind.
He reached out and brushed his fingertips over the carving. It was old—weeks at least—but deep enough to be deliberate.
It wasn't coincidence.
It was a trail.
And he was already following it.
—
By the time he returned home, his mind was spinning.
He barely noticed his sister watching him from the kitchen.
"Minjae?" Mirae's voice was hesitant, her hands paused mid-wash over the sink. "You okay? You look… pale."
He nodded quickly. "Just tired. Long day."
She didn't press further, but her eyes lingered longer than usual.
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
The quote haunted him.
Was it a memory? A message? A warning?
He didn't know yet.
But someone did.
And they were still watching.
—
The next morning, another message.
Not a note this time.
A photo.
📸 From UnknownA picture of the Han Cinema footbridge. Taken from above. As if the photographer had been on a rooftop… watching.
Minjae stared at it, dread blooming in his stomach.
Then the caption arrived.
💬"I wonder what you'll do next. I'm enjoying this little dance."💬
He looked out his window instinctively, but saw only traffic, school kids, and laundry lines.
No shadows.
No figures.
Yet he could feel her presence.
Unseen.
Unshakable.
—
Author's Note (A/N):The hunt begins—what does the riddle mean, and how close is she really? Chapter 20 will bring the first major turn in Minjae's journey, and the answers will only get darker from here. Stay sharp.
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