traumatic love / Jikook

Whispers of the Forgotten

 ARC2/ CHP 17:Whispers of the Forgotten

Footsteps were echoing inside the empty building, a haunting symphony that resonated through the dilapidated corridors of the abandoned orphanage. The walls stood as silent witnesses to a tragedy that had unfolded years ago. Once a place filled with laughter and hope, the orphanage had been consumed by fire, leaving only charred remnants of its former existence.

Amidst the eerie silence, a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with calculated steps. shrouded in mystery, a man with features concealed beneath a dark hood and a mask that obscured his identity. His presence hinted at a purpose beyond the ordinary.

As he ventured deeper into the orphanage, the masked man's eyes scanned the surroundings, absorbing the remnants of a forgotten past. The rooms were in disarray, their walls adorned with peeling paint and scorched memories. Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor, remnants of lives that had once sought solace within these walls.

the man navigated the desolate corridors with a sense of purpose. His mission led him to the remnants of a room that had once served as an office.  his eyes were scanning every corner of the abandoned orphanage. The rooms were filled with remnants of a bygone era, where the walls, once painted with vibrant colors, now stood charred and scarred by the destructive flames. Burnt furniture lay strewn about, a haunting reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded within these walls.

The documents he found were in a sorry state, their edges singed and fragile. The words on the pages were smudged, barely decipherable. They offered little information about the purpose that had brought him to this forsaken place. Faded ink told stories of bureaucratic processes and mundane paperwork, but nothing that shed light on the orphanage's origins or the ones responsible for its establishment.

The masked man discovered a few photographs within the limited information he gathered. They were yellowed with age, the subjects frozen in time, their smiles preserved despite the passage of years. Among them were the faces of the children who had once called this orphanage home. Their Korean names danced beneath the photographs, a testament to their presence within these forgotten halls.

As his gloved fingers brushed over the photographs, a surge of emotion flickered in the masked man's eyes. Among the names, one stood out to him like a beacon in the darkness – Park Jimin. The mere mention of that name elicited a response deep within his being. Unbeknownst to him, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, revealing a glimpse of the connection he felt towards this particular child.

Park Jimin's photograph depicted a boy with a bright, infectious smile. His eyes sparkled with mischief, mirroring the joy he had once found within these walls. The masked man's gaze lingered on the image, his expression softening with a mix of tenderness and melancholy. A subtle longing passed through his features, hinting at a bond that surpassed the boundaries of time and place.

Though the orphanage's documents yielded no tangible information about its history, the photographs and the names of its former inhabitants whispered stories of lives intertwined. Each child represented a fragment of a forgotten narrative.

The man's determination did not waver as he meticulously searched through the burned documents and files. He meticulously sifted through the remnants, his gloved hands delicately handling the fragile papers. With each turn of a page, hope mingled with disappointment as he found nothing.

Undeterred, he meticulously combed through the office, moving broken and burned furniture aside in his quest for answers. As he reached the point of exhaustion and frustration, ready to abandon this futile search, his eyes caught a glimpse of something unexpected. It was a small hole within the burned walls, hidden in the shadows, barely noticeable to the untrained eye.