II. A CRACK IN THE SURFACE

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"How can a story never die?"

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C H A P T E R  T W O

SEOKJIN WAS SWALLOWED BY DARKNESS. The world in which he stood was pitch black, the dark so deep and impenetrable that he was unable to make out anything but the vague shape of his trembling fingers as he held them up in front of his face. There was no light to be found, nothing to be seen. The ground beneath his bare feet was cold, the air that wrapped around him chilling as it sank through his skin, taking residence in the core of his soul. There was nothing to hear but the flow of blood in his veins as his pulse throbbed; the silence so eerie, he was afraid to take his next breath.

For a few moments he did nothing, too petrified to venture even a step. He did not know where he was. He could not remember how he had gotten there.

He only knew the sound of his heart pumping, the feeling of his head throbbing, the chilling air and the cold floor, and the darkness that swallowed him whole.

Nothing happened as he stood still, unmoving, afraid.

Hesitantly, he put one foot forward.

As soon as his foot was back on the ground, there was light.

He winced, bringing a hand to cover his eyes as the brightness cut harshly through the dark that preceded it. After giving himself a second to adjust, he slowly lowered his hand and opened his eyes.

He found himself in a long, narrow hallway, with floors made of white marble, dark gray walls, and a low ceiling. At the end of the hallway stood a dark wooden door, the golden knob shining from afar. When he turned to look behind him, he saw that the pitch-black darkness ensued. The light only shone moving forward.

There was little else he could do but walk forward, towards the wooden door with the golden knob.

Each step he took echoed throughout the hallway, even though his feet were bare. He paused when he reached the door, his fingers hovering over the handle as sweat beaded on the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder once again to see that the darkness had followed him—he was unable to backtrack.

Swallowing thickly, he gripped the doorknob and opened the door, revealing the room that rested beyond.

Shaped like a crescent moon, the room had one long curved wall opposite the straight one where the door was. Along the curved wall, there was an array of full-length mirrors, placed side by side. The ceiling was high, a sparkling chandelier hanging above his head, the crystals catching the light as it shone from above, reflecting off the marble floor that surrounded the edges of the room, covered by a large blue rug in the center, embroidered with intricate gold designs. The mirrors were framed by golden embellishments on the walls, coiling around candlesticks that blazed with soft flames, illuminating the air around them with a soft orange glow.

Seokjin's hand slipped from the knob as he stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind him. He turned around when he heard the click of the door shutting, but when he did so, it was gone. Replacing it was another curved wall, full of mirrors.

His reflection stared right back at him. Tousled black hair that was messy from his restlessness stuck to his bronzed skin, which was dewy with perspiration. Almond eyes the color of a rainy day's sky blinked slowly as he took in the sight of himself. Pink lips, full and parted as he panted heavily, veiny hands gripping the fabric of his black tee shirt.

He turned around and took a few steps forward, turning in a slow circle to see himself surrounded in a room full of mirrors, his own reflection leering back at him.

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