Time froze as he hung above the boiling river—or maybe it was only his mind deceiving him. He saw his reflection flicker, his bicycle trembling on the white surface. Bubbles burst slowly before his eyes as the thought pierced him:
Am I falling into a hot spring? ..Me?!
With a crash like an explosion, his body struck the water, sinking all the way down. For a moment, he felt a sting rushing through his flesh, cold—or so he told himself. But his mind could not hold the lie for long before the truth struck him: the burn, the pain, as if he had fallen into volcanic magma.
The boiling water consumed his body. Fire crept into his eyes, melted his cheeks, chewed at his ears. He opened his mouth to scream, and the scalding current tore at his tongue. He forced the air from his lungs in a cry as the river dragged him, smashed him against rocks, hurled him into every depth. His helmet was torn away. All he could see was blinding white.
Agony devoured him, pouring into his mind, as if his soul seeped from every pore. There was nothing left but pain, as if pain had been his only life.
I'm going to lose my mind!!
He tried to breathe, but the furious river allowed none. It tossed him, turned him upside down, spun him left and right until Yonan no longer knew where he was. He screamed, but all he heard was the roar of hell filling his ears. He wished for death to come quickly, to end this torment.
His foot struck the riverbed. He kicked upward, broke the surface, and gasped. He screamed into the air, his throat tearing, but it was useless. His burning eyes caught sight of where the river drove him—toward darkness. A cave swallowed the river whole. He thought then: he had not yet seen hell.
His head struck the cave's ceiling. The waters boiled around him, yet consciousness refused to leave him. The cave narrowed, pressing him, dragging him down as if swallowing him alive. Its throat closed, smashing his face against its gut, choking him with boiling blackness. His hands groped for escape, but there was none. He saw nothing, not even his fingers. Perhaps his eyes were no longer in their sockets. The cave pulled him deeper into the abyss, miles of darkness between him and the life above.
Rocks crushed his face, pinning his head. He fought in every direction to free himself, but he could not. The water seared him on every side. His fingers shattered between stones as he tried, but the rocks would not release him.
He flailed weakly until strength left him. Then, silence. The roar was gone. In the far dark, someone smiled, drawing closer. They embraced him, whispering in his ear with his mother's voice:
"It's okay... it's okay."
Yonan smiled, letting go of his last breath.
What a gentle voice.
⸻
Nani lifted her skirt, stepping and leaping across the creek's stones. She had to hurry; the Rakna beasts might find him first. Mud clung to her shoes, creeping up to stain her white stockings. Pain twisted in her ankle at every step, yet she pressed on. The sky above glowed crimson, the sun sliding into the horizon. On both sides of the stream, the forest loomed with clawlike branches and dark leaves. She had to reach him before the beasts.
She spread her stride, breaking into a run along the creek, panting as she muttered, "You'll find him at the source of the stream!... But where is the source, my lady?!"
Her quick steps splashed warm droplets behind her. She was no longer young, yet here she was, running from the manor to the spring in one breath.
If only my lady knew,
she thought,
she would spare me.
With each step the spray grew hotter, burning her legs. Mist thickened the closer she came.
Which means?!
She raised her eyes. The stream ended at a towering mountain. From a narrow fissure trickled boiling water, forming a gentle brook across smooth stones.
And at the very source, a young man lay sprawled on the bank. Motionless.
She gasped. "Oh heavens!"
She rushed to him. A young man, no older than herself, lay face-down in strange clothes. His body was bruised and red, his skin flayed in places, most of his hair gone.
She crouched and rolled him over. His skin was searing, as if he had returned from hell. She sat in the warm water, cradled his head on her lap, leaned to his nose. No breath.
"Oh God! He isn't breathing!"
She patted his cheek. 'Young man!... Can you hear me?
⸻
Water clogged his throat. He convulsed, coughing, air breaking through his nostrils. A flash of light split the dark in his eyes. Pain struck him again, as though he were still drowning in molten water.
A young woman's cry rang out above him.
"Are you alright, young man ? Thanks God!"
He raised his eyes. A blonde leaned over him, green eyes close upon him. He turned toward the gurgle of the spring beneath the mountain, then back to her.
⸻
The young man lunged at her, clinging to her and sobbing into her shoulder like a child. She flinched but did not move away. She wrapped her arms around him while he wept and gasped. She stroked his back.
"It's okay. You're safe. I'm here."
She cast a glance at his broken knuckles, at his torn skin. Her lips pressed tight as tears welled in her eyes. His trembling breaths shook her shoulder. She could no longer hold back her tears. She wept, wondering what this young man had endured to cry like this in a stranger's arms.
His sobs faded. He collapsed unconscious onto her lap.
Nani panicked, patting his cheek.
"Boy, what's wrong?! Can you hear me?!"
But he did not answer.
⸻
The clatter of pots and spoons roused him. Voices surrounded him—two women and a young man. His tongue was numb, his mind dazed. A blanket was pulled from him, and cold air crept over his wounds, stinging his raw flesh. He clenched his teeth, groaning. He opened his eyes, but darkness veiled them. He tried to move, but straps bound his wrists.
A woman on his right said, "My lady, it will hurts him."
Another replied, "Just hold him. Tai, keep his head steady."
Hands gripped his skull. His breath raced as pain stabbed through his side. He struggled against them.
"Where am I? Let me go! Why... why is the room dark? Turn on the lights!"
The second woman spoke again, urgent. "We must hurry or he'll lose his sight. Hold him tight!"
More hands clamped his wrists. The youth restraining him said, "My lady, it will hurt him.''
"We must set the bones in his fingers first, or it will be harder later."
"My fingers!" Yonan muttered.
Cold hands seized his mangled fingers, snapping them into place. The crack thundered in his head. He kicked and screamed.
"Let me go!"
"It's okay. Endure just a little more. We're almost done."
The second woman said, "Hold his chest. I must fix his dislocated shoulder."
"No, please!!" Yonan cried.
Hands pressed him down. Cold fingers crushed his shoulder until the joint popped like a thunderclap. His scream tore free, spit and tears mingling.
"Tai, hold his head. Don't let it slip."
"Yes, my lady."
"No, no! What are you going to do? Please stop!", Yonan cried
Hands locked his head to the pillow. A woman commanded:
"Nani, make him open his mouth."
Gentle arms cupped his chin. "It's okay, it will be over soon. Just open your mouth."
He clenched his teeth, shaking his head.
"Open it. Come on."
He refused.
"Force it open if you must. We don't have time."
The woman holding him tried, but he resisted.
"Please, boy, open your mouth..." she begged. "My lady—"
"Step aside. I'll open it. Hand me that knife."
His heart pounded. Breath grew ragged. The girl released his chin, whispering, "Please, be gentle, my lady."
"Move!"
Cold fingers gripped his jaw. The girl called out, "Nani! The knife, quickly!"
Metal scraped at his feet. His chest heaved. He pressed his lips shut, fighting tears, but they slid warm down his cheek as if they, too, dreaded what was to come.
Cold fingers stroked his cheek. "Open your mouth. I promise, it won't hurt. Just medicine."
He clenched tighter, eyes shut, shaking his head.
Medicine? With a knife?
The grip tightened. "Didn't you hear me? Open!. Nani, hold the knife."
"My lady, show him mercy."
"Hold it!"
Her cold hand squeezed his jaw. "Boy, it will hurt more if you fight me."
He shook his head.
"As you wish," she muttered.
Her grip almost crushed his jaw until he thought his teeth would shatter. A moan slipped out, and his mouth opened in pain.
"Nani, give it to me!"
He tried to bite down, but her hold froze his jaw.
A woman gasped. "Will you truly do this, my lady? Won't it kill him?!"
Silence. If it is only a single drop, it will kill him.
His eyes searched the dark, bracing for the blade to cut his gums, his tongue. But it did not come. Her fingers trembled, then stilled. Drops fell—cold, bitter, metallic, like copper.
He swallowed instinctively. The liquid slid down his throat like mercury, burning like fire. His chest ignited. His body convulsed. Pain raced through him like a fuse, from his soles to his eyes, hammering his heart, striking his skull. His teeth rattled, ready to break.
"Hold his hands before he harms himself!"
His scream split the air. Voices faded away, drifting, as though he were sinking into a sea of blackness.
⸻
He lay on his back, groaning faintly. He swallowed. Exhaustion weighed him down. His clothes were damp, his eyes closed. The room was cold despite the blankets. His body felt drugged, as if he had run for ten days without pause. His body was heavy, as if an elephant were leaning on him. Light pressed against his eyelids.
He forced them open. Morning sunlight streamed through the window on his right. Dust glimmered like stars in the beams. Birds sang outside. He inhaled deeply—the air smelled of earth and grass. He lifted his gaze to a ceiling painted with gardens bursting with flowers.
The room was filled with quiet and elegant furnishings—embroidered chairs, crystal vases brimming with blossoms, paintings on the walls, shelves heavy with old books. The floor was white marble, gleaming like snow, reflecting light on the ceiling. On his left, a table held ointments, a jar of honey, and rolls of white bandage.
Where am I?
He touched his damp collar and threw the blanket aside. He was dressed in white cotton, soaked with sweat. He stared at his sleeves. Someone must have clothed him. Groaning, he pushed himself against the headboard. His head was heavy, like it was filled with water.
Water!.
A flash of memory pierced him, terrifying—spinning, suffocating, drowning in fire. He gasped, fingers trembling. His heart pounded like war drums.
Was it all just a nightmare... or...?
He looked at his chest—smooth, unscarred. His arms, his cheek, his legs—clear, unharmed. No burns, no wounds.
Was it all just a dream?!
The doorknob turned. A young woman entered, late in her twenties, blonde with green eyes like the northern lights. She carried towels and a basin of water. She moved with a quiet grace, her white robes flowing. She set the basin beside him, dipped cloth into the water, and leaned toward his pillow to place it.
She froze, staring at his wrist. Her eyes darted to his face. She gasped, hand over her chest. The basin tipped, water spilling across the marble.
"Oh God! You're awake! I thought you'd never wake!"
Her shock melted into a smile—warm, tender, like sunlight. A smile that whispered:
It's okay. Everything will be fine.
It felt familiar, though he couldn't remember where he had seen it. His weary mind searched in vain.
She stepped close, pressing her hand to his forehead. "Your fever's gone. At last!"
Her bracelet trembled above his face as she checked him. His ears burned—he had never been so near a girl before. She noticed his unease, pulled her hand away quickly, and stepped back.
"Forgive me... I was only checking."
He turned his face to the window, scratching his forehead, glancing at his clothes.
Did she...?
Seeing his doubt, she raised her hand. "No, no. My brother Tai clothed you. Not me. You can rest easy."
"Where are we?"
"The servants' house in Moon Palace."
"Moon Pal—what? Where is that?"
She lifted her brows. "Moon Palace! To the west of Mud City."
"Mud... City? What?!"
"You don't know Mud City?!"
"No."
"Then where are you from? Flower? The Crossroads?"
"What are you talking about?"
She folded her arms, thinking. "Or maybe... The Valley?"
"Neither. I'm from Uniforc."
Her head tilted. "Uni... where is that?"
"Uniforc! The capital of the South!"
She stared in silence. He pressed, "What's the name of this country?"
"Country?"
"This land, this region—what's it called?"
"The Kingdom of Eese."
He felt dizzy and clutched his head.
She must be joking with me... right?
He swallowed hard, whispering to himself:
Eese... now... where is that? I've never heard of it before!
He pressed his brow, then looked at her. "Then tell me... at least we're still in America?"
Her brows rose again. "Ameri..? I don't think so."
"Then how did I get here?"
A shadow of a smile touched her lips. "We found you wounded at the spring. We brought you here to heal."
"Wounded at the spring?...Spring!" The word echoed in his mind. His body knew it. His fingers shook.
I don't want to hear that word... never again.
"What wounds?"
She pointed to his arm. "Your body was covered in burns."
A vision flashed—white steam, bubbles boiling, his own screams as he drowned in fire. The pain surged again. His skin crawled.
What madness drove me into a boiling spring?
He lifted his eyes to her warm smile. He stared. His head ached as memory struck him—her smile was his mother's smile. And memories returned: the bike, the helmet, the downhill race, the sunlight through trees, Frank's crying voice, his mother's frail body bound by wires.
He leapt from bed. She rushed forward. "Please, don't move like that! You might not be healed!"
"Give me your phone."
She tilted her head. "Phone?"
He raised his hand, finger to ear, pinky to lips, miming a handset. "The phone!"
She stared, shaking her head.
For God's sake! I want to speak with my family... There's no time for your jokes!
"I swear, I don't know what you mean."
He thought of his own phone. "Where is it? My belongings?"
She pointed to the drawers by the table. "I left them there."
He yanked it open. His silver watch clinked against the wood, and beside it lay his phone—faded, battered. He grabbed it. The screen was black, shattered. His reflection stared back at him. Frank's sobs rang in his ears, his mother's face returning.
Breath shaking, he turned to the girl. "Just tell me where the train station is."
"The... train?"
"That's enough!"
He tore down the corridor, ignoring the girl, rushing past paintings, gilded ornaments, and velvet chairs upon marble that gleamed like water. At the end, light spilled through the crack of an open door, like the mouth of a tunnel. Yonan flung himself out, nearly colliding with a woman in an apron carrying baskets of red grapes. He staggered, caught himself at the last instant, and glanced down at his bare feet, chest heaving, throat dry.
Then he lifted his eyes.
Vineyards stretched as far as he could see, their crimson fruit glittering like jewels, their green leaves trembling in the whim of the breeze. Farmers, shaded under wide straw hats, spared him a glance, then bent once more to trimming the vines.
He spun where he stood. The palace wall circled the fields, stretching into the horizon until it vanished behind distant trees. At his right, a white path gleamed like blocks of ice, running alongside the wall.
"What kind of wealth is this?"
Yonan dashed along the path, lungs burning, ears catching the world beyond the wall—horses whinnying, women laughing, children shouting. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the blonde girl chasing him, her face flushed with exertion. He turned forward again. The path ended at towering iron gates.
He shoved them open.
Children in ragged clothes, faces smeared with dirt, darted past him toward a bustling market. Smoke curled upward. The acrid stench of mud and dung clawed at his nostrils. Wooden carts rumbled, horse-drawn wheels spraying muck against old stone walls, spitting filth upon them, while townsfolk shopped unbothered by the mire covering their boots.
It was as though he had stepped into the frame of a photograph from the nineteenth century—the faces, the garments, the goods, none belonging to his time.
He raised his eyes to the ragged clouds, then back to the green-eyed girl gasping behind him. His knees gave way, sinking into the mud.
"This... this is impossible!"