The morning glimpses had risen . Therebstood many women and men around the bed where the ghosted man was yelling and shouting loud at his painful yelps. The shaman clearly viewed at him . As the old lady stopped the people to run across them .
The man who was ghosted have burnt with red eyes and was gritting his teeth . The shaman was in white dress surrounded by the diffrent colours on the cloth as she wore a hat on her head and weathered fangs on her sides clearly trying her best to remove the ghost from the man body .
"Ahhhhh you bitch shaman" the man yelled on top of his lungs , but shaman didn't stopped to do her work ,trying her best to control the ghost . " Shhh shut up I don't have enough time " she spoke on other side as she continues to swing her hips and do the ritual on her toes and hands.
.....
" Will you leave now " shaman spoke as the man was still possesses by the ghost . " No " he declared as she sighs " it is last time I am speaking to you ' do you know who I am" she spoke . " Ahhh shaman just leave me" the man spoke. " The phone rang " rringh riing " the alarm clocked upon the shaman watch " fuck I am late" she yells as she glares at the possessed man on the bed beside her ." You fucking leave out of his body " she yelps . The people around her see her weird behaviour. Suddenly the possessed man catch her dress as she reveals that she is a high school student. As she wore a skirt and a shirt on . The people yelps .and sighs." Ahhhh I going to be latee"!!!! She yelps .
" Woahhh " the people around her whisper to each other " yeah I am a student and I have mid exam today !!" She yells as she run from there .
By day, Park Seong-ah looked like every other seventeen-year-old in her navy school blazer — neat braid falling over her shoulder, textbooks stacked neatly in front of her, eyes lowered as if she were quietly absorbing every word from the teacher.
Park seong -ah , the shaman.
She run across the wall of the school where she study as she climbed on the wall to enter into the school , was about to fall when a tall muscular figure caught her on the back. The man slowly dropped her on the ground ." Ahhh jiho why the fuck are you here ?" Seong -ah spoke ." Huff why not ? Atleast I would be 2nd late if you are here isn't it?" Jiho spoke .
Pyo jiho - seong- ah best friend
In truth, she was only pretending to follow along. The formulas on the chalkboard blurred together, and the historical dates in her notes were half-remembered guesses. It didn't matter. The classroom had never been where her real life happened.
Park Seong-ah looked like any other seventeen-year-old navigating the quiet monotony of Seongjin High School.
Her navy school blazer sat neatly on her shoulders, her braid lay smooth down her back, and the textbooks on her desk were arranged with exacting care — as though order on the surface could disguise the storms underneath.
She kept her gaze lowered during lessons, pen moving in a steady rhythm across her notebook. To her teachers, she was a polite if slightly distracted student; to her classmates, just another face in a sea of uniforms.
But if someone had leaned closer, they might have noticed the way her eyes didn't quite focus on the chalkboard, how the math formulas seemed to slide past her like smoke, and the way historical dates she copied were half-formed guesses.
For Seong-ah, the classroom was a stage. Her true life — the one with meaning — began only when the final bell rang and the corridors emptied.
Time passed
By night, she stepped into an entirely different existence.
Gone was the quiet student. In her place stood Fairy Cheon-ji, the shaman of the Heaven and Earth Fairy Shrine — a centuries-old sanctuary tucked behind a winding alley where the neon glow of the city faded into darkness.
The moment she crossed its wooden threshold, the air changed.
The scent of cedar and incense filled her lungs, grounding her in a world far older than textbooks or exams.
Candles flickered in brass holders along the altar, their flames bending subtly toward her, as though pulled by the low incantation that vibrated in her throat.
With her eyes half-closed, Seong-ah saw layers of reality the untrained could never perceive:
Wisps of shadow clinging to strangers she'd brushed past on the bus.
Ink-black curses etched into the translucent sheath of auras.
Whispers drifting upward like smoke, curling under the eaves of the shrine before dissipating into the unseen.
Her Grand Aunt had raised her within these walls, teaching her chants older than the town itself.
Her Aunt kept the shrine's traditions alive in the waking world.
And above them all loomed General Dong-cheon, the guardian spirit of the Mother Goddess — a towering, radiant presence that sometimes stepped into her dreams to offer guidance… or warnings.
A great women showed up infront of her
" Hey where the hell did you were?" The women spoke . " Huh !!" Seong -ah spoke.
" Seong -ah didn't I said you to give more priority to your clients?" The women spoke.as her black orbs gazed at the teenaged girls who say across her with her innocence face . " Mom , i --- " she sluttered ." Didn't you should be around the time of evening where the clients shall be waiting for you?" She spoke with her raised eyebrows." Yeah mother I am sorry " " but I wanted to live like a normal girl who just studies and hangout with her friends". She spoke .
" Okay but give priority to clients they are first after that you can do whatever you want okay?" Mother goddess spoke as seong- ah hugged her " thank you mom " " now I will be ready to shaman" she excited .
That night, Seong-ah was bent over the altar, brush tip tracing the final stroke of a protective talisman.
Halfway through, the bristles halted.
A cold ripple threaded down her spine.
The air thickened.
This wasn't the familiar pulse of a restless spirit drifting too close.
This was heavier… wrong.
She closed her eyes, sharpening her shaman's sight until the other plane came into focus.
In her mind's vision, a soul's flame appeared — but instead of burning upward, it folded inward, pulling itself backward like time was unspooling in reverse.
She had never seen such a thing.
And deep inside, a shiver of dread bloomed.
Evening in Seong-ah's grandmother's shrine, warm yellow lantern light flickering over wooden floors. The faint smell of incense lingers in the air.
People start arriving in small groups — some holding charms, others clutching photographs or talismans.
Low murmurs, creaking doors, the jingle of the wind chime as each new client enters.
She stands behind the low altar table, watching the crowd grow. She hides her sigh — this is her busiest time, and most of these requests are small exorcisms, blessing rituals, or guidance about bad omens.
She recognizes a few regulars and greets them with polite bows.
Moves between the altar and the waiting mats, handing people tea, calming nervous clients. She occasionally calls Seong-ah forward when someone specifically asks for her.
Her hands are steady and confident — she's clearly been doing this work for decades.
She quietly tells Seong-ah that a "special case" is arriving tonight.
The chatter in the shrine dips as a tall young man steps inside, steadying an elderly woman (his grandmother).
Tonight wasn't quiet.
The small space was crowded. People sat cross-legged on the floor, shoulders brushing, their faces lit with equal parts desperation and hope. Some clutched photos of loved ones, others held amulets wrapped in red cloth. They whispered to each other in low tones, their voices drowned beneath the rhythmic thunk-thunk of the shaman's drum from the back room.
The murmurs paused when the sliding door creaked again. A boy stepped in, tall for his age, wearing a slightly rumpled school blazer. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and though his expression was unreadable, there was something… intense in his gaze.
He wasn't alone. Walking beside him was an elderly woman, her back slightly bent with age but her eyes sharp as the flame of the candles. Her hand rested lightly on the boy's arm, steadying him as they moved toward the center.
Seong-ah glanced up from the incense bowl she was tending. The moment her gaze met his, the air in the shrine seemed to change. For a second, the chanting, the whispers, the shuffling of feet—all faded into silence.
She saw it instantly. The shadows clinging to him. Faint, like wisps of smoke curling around his shoulders, but heavy enough to make the air colder in his presence. This boy… was different.
Her grandmother's chant faltered for just half a breath—an uncharacteristic slip—before resuming as though nothing had happened.
The other clients shifted to make space, their curious eyes darting between Gyeonwoo and Seong-ah. Some whispered—perhaps recognizing his grandmother, perhaps sensing the strange tension in the air.
The old woman guided him to sit directly before Seong-ah.
Grandmother (soft but firm):
"My grandson… needs your help."
The words hung heavy between them. Gyeonwoo didn't speak, but his eyes never left hers, as if silently daring her to tell him what she saw.
The small shrine room was already crowded.
Dozens of clients had gathered that evening, each carrying the same anxious expression but hiding it under polite bows and soft greetings. The smell of burning incense curled lazily through the air, mixing with the faint aroma of old wood. Outside, the sound of cicadas buzzed faintly, but here inside the shrine, the world felt quiet… expectant.
Seong-ah sat at the low wooden table, her school blazer folded neatly beside her. Her posture was straight, her eyes calm — but her gaze was sharp, moving slowly from person to person. She didn't just look at them; she read them. The way someone's shoulders slumped, the tremble of a hand, the invisible heaviness that clung to their aura — she saw all of it.
One by one, the clients approached. Some wanted blessings for upcoming exams, others brought small offerings in exchange for protective charms. Seong-ah's voice was soft but steady, each word deliberate as she recited prayers her grandmother had once whispered to her.
The paper door slid open, letting in the faint evening breeze — and a pair of new figures stepped inside.
The first was an elderly woman, her silver hair pulled back neatly into a bun, her hanbok soft in color but immaculately pressed. She moved slowly, leaning slightly on a polished wooden cane, yet there was an unmistakable dignity in the way she carried herself.
Beside her stood Gyeonwoo.
Tall, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled just above the wrist, Gyeonwoo's presence drew subtle glances from the people in the room. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, but there was a certain quiet confidence in the way he walked. He kept one hand lightly on his grandmother's arm, guiding her with care.
They removed their shoes at the entrance, bowing politely before stepping onto the tatami.
Seong-ah's eyes flickered up the moment they entered. She didn't recognize them — but the air around Gyeonwoo was different from the others.
For just a heartbeat, she thought she saw something — a shadow at the edge of his form, shifting almost like smoke. Then it vanished, as if it had never been there.
Gyeonwoo noticed her glance but said nothing. His attention was focused on helping his grandmother sit across from Seong-ah.
The elderly woman spoke first, her voice low and polite.
> Grandmother: "Miss Park… I've heard of your gift. My grandson… he has been unwell, but not in a way doctors can explain."
She placed a folded cloth on the table — an offering — before continuing.
> Grandmother: "There are nights he wakes, saying he feels someone calling him. He sees things that aren't there. I fear… it is something that follows him."
Seong-ah's gaze shifted to Gyeonwoo, who sat silently beside her grandmother. He didn't seem afraid — but there was tension in his shoulders, as if he didn't quite believe in what was happening… yet was willing to listen.
It wasn't falling the way it should. In her sight—the sight no one else had—it tilted unnaturally, bending in a way that made it look as though he were walking upside down toward her. The air around him shimmered faintly, the telltale sign of an imbalance, the kind that didn't just mean "bad luck" but dangerous bad luck.
Her gaze lingered on him, and for a moment, their eyes met. His were deep and calm, but behind them was the faint confusion of someone who couldn't see what she saw.
The grandmother noticed Seong-ah looking and wasted no time. She stepped forward and said in a matter-of-fact tone,
> "My grandson has been unlucky since the day he was born."
Her voice carried a weight that silenced the chatter in the room. A few of the waiting clients turned their heads, curious.
Seong-ah didn't respond right away. She tilted her head slightly, scanning him again with her inner vision. The upside-down shadow clung to him stubbornly, as if it had been there for years. It was almost as though the universe had decided he was its favorite target for misfortune.
The grandmother continued, pulling Gyeonwoo gently toward the table.
> "They say you're the only one who can help."
Gyeonwoo looked faintly embarrassed, muttering something under his breath, but he let her guide him forward. Seong-ah straightened, placing her palms on the table.
In her mind, a thought flickered:
If his shadow's been like this all his life… what could have caused it?
And just as quickly:
More importantly—can I even fix it?
She didn't realize then that this meeting, crowded and ordinary as it seemed, was the moment her life would turn upside down too—just like his shadow.
Until she realised that he is the man where a little girl said to her that a man might arrive to your life coming upside down " the words echoed as she saw him approached her upside down
Is it a miracle ? Or a coincidence?
The room was warm with the flicker of candles, the faint smell of sandalwood clinging to the air.
Seong-ah sat cross-legged behind the low wooden table, her navy blazer draped neatly over the back of her chair.
Before her, a crowd of people filled the small shrine room — women clutching amulets, men wringing their hands, each waiting for her to tell them what fate had written for them.
At the doorway, the bead curtain rattled.
An old woman stepped in, her back slightly bent but her eyes sharp as polished jade. She guided a tall boy inside — Gyeonwoo.
His hair was slightly messy, his uniform jacket unbuttoned. He looked like someone who didn't quite belong in a place like this — and knew it.
The grandmother's voice was firm as she approached Seong-ah.
> "This boy has been cursed with bad luck since the day he was born," she said, her gnarled hand resting on his shoulder.
The room's murmurs hushed.
Seong-ah's gaze flicked up at Gyeonwoo. At first, she only noticed his awkward posture… until her eyes widened.
From her sight — the one no one else had — she saw it.
The world tilted. The shadows around him seemed to crawl, and his figure… was upside down. Not literally, but in the way her gift showed her truths: his spirit was walking with the sky beneath his feet.
Her breath caught.
In her world, that meant one thing — a destiny twisted out of place, like a thread wound the wrong way through the loom of life.
It was dangerous. It was rare.
And it was standing right in front of her.
Seong-ah straightened slowly, her tone calm but laced with something sharper.
> "You've been carrying this for a long time, haven't you?"
Gyeonwoo raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed.
> "Carrying what?" he asked flatly.
She didn't answer right away. Her fingers brushed over the beads on her wrist, each one clicking softly as she considered him.
This wasn't just bad luck. This was a pull — something that connected his path to hers, whether they wanted it or not.
The grandmother leaned in closer to Seong-ah.
> "He's been getting into accidents, failing tests, losing things… even the neighborhood cats run away from him."
Seong-ah's lips twitched, not quite a smile.
> "That's not just bad luck. That's a sign."
The room tensed. Somewhere in the back, a candle guttered out.
Gyeonwoo frowned, but there was a flicker in his eyes — curiosity, maybe, or the faint fear of someone realizing she might be right.
And in that charged silence, Seong-ah made a decision she didn't usually make for strangers.
She would see exactly what was wrong with him… even if it meant tangling her own fate with his.
The grandmother's hands tightened in her lap, the knuckles pale against the worn fabric of her skirt.
Seong-ah waited, sensing there was something heavier—something the old woman hadn't yet said.
Finally, the grandmother's voice trembled.
"He only has twenty-one days left to live."
The words hung in the air like an execution bell, heavy and irreversible.
Gyeonwoo let out a short, disbelieving scoff. "Grandma…" His tone was half-warning, half-exasperated, as if this was an old superstition he'd heard too many times before.
But Seong-ah didn't laugh. She'd seen this kind of countdown before. It wasn't metaphor, it wasn't melodrama—some people carried a visible clock in their fate. It ticked silently, unseen by everyone except those who could read the threads.
And now, she saw it.
A faint glimmer, like a fraying string, trailing from Gyeonwoo's chest. Thin. Brittle. Already unraveling at the edges.
Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"
The grandmother met her gaze with a quiet, steady grief. "Because the same thing happened to his father. And his father's father. The men in our family… they never make it past this age."
Gyeonwoo's voice was sharp now. "This is why I told you not to drag me into this. I'm fine."
"You're not fine!" the grandmother snapped, sudden steel in her tone. "Every day you walk out that door, something tries to take you—accidents, illness, bad luck so thick it makes the neighbors whisper!"
Gyeonwoo looked away, jaw tight.
Seong-ah stayed silent for a long moment, her mind calculating—not just the danger, but the odds of breaking a curse that had killed every man in the bloodline before him.
Finally, she said, "If I take this on… I'll need those twenty-one days to be with him. Every single one."
Gyeonwoo turned back to her, brow arched. "You planning to babysit me?"
She didn't blink. "I'm planning to make sure you live."
Seong-ah's brows knit ever so slightly. She had heard all kinds of requests over the years—banish this spirit, cleanse that curse, find out if someone's cheating—but this was different.
She looked from the grandmother's lined, earnest face to the young man standing beside her.
Gyeonwoo didn't look like he needed protection. He stood tall, his posture straight, dressed neatly but casually, hands stuffed into his pockets like he was just killing time. Yet, there was something… off.
It wasn't the way his eyes met hers—confident, almost amused. It wasn't even the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
It was the way the air bent around him.
Like invisible threads of misfortune clung to his shoulders, wrapping him in a quiet storm that no one else could see.
Seong-ah's gaze lingered.
And then, she noticed it—the faint shimmer of inverted energy.
The way he had walked into her workspace had been wrong. Not literally upside down, but spiritually inverted, as if he carried the weight of the heavens on his feet instead of the ground beneath him. An omen she had only seen once before, and it had ended… badly.
The grandmother hesitated, fingers twisting the strap of her bag.
"From himself," she said finally. "And from what's following him."
A flicker passed through Seong-ah's mind—images of dark silhouettes clinging to a man's back, whispering into his ear until his steps led him somewhere he was never meant to go.
Gyeonwoo, however, seemed completely unconcerned. He leaned on the back of a chair, watching her like she was the odd one in the room.
"Are you always this serious?" he asked lightly.
She ignored him and turned back to his grandmother. "If I agree to this… I'll need to know everything. No half-truths."
The older woman nodded solemnly. "Then we'll start tonight."
" Is seong ah fell in love at first sigh?"
" I will protect him don't worry miss " seong- ah spoke as the old woman nodd her head and leave with her grandson.
" Ahhhh such a handsome man !!" The shaman blushes as she jumps on her place .
" What was that?" Mother goddess arrives to the hall ." Do you know what are you even talking ?" She spoke ." Mother I wanted to save him at any cost" seong- ah declared. " Huh ? Do you even remember how you had been just missed to be died while saving a man ?" Mother goddess spoke to her .
Two months ago
Aman arrives arrives the shaman upside down as he said to her to protect him from every bad luck. As she aggrees. Next day onwards she started to follow around him and just kick off the ghost or evil spirits around him . At a certain day a truck was about to crashed upon her but the bad luck was that the man who wants to get protected by her dies by crashing upon the truck.
Flashback ends
Now do you still wanted to protect him ?" Mother goddess spoke." Mom but this time I am really serious " she spoke .as mother goddess sigh.
Morning yanked her back into the motions of ordinary life.
At school, the hallways thrummed with chatter. Gu Do-yeon waved lazily from his spot near the lockers; Pyo Ji-ho, leaning against the wall, smirked as he teased,
> "You eat breakfast like a turtle. What's the rush… or lack of it?"
She gave the required small smile, but her thoughts were still knotted around the image of that backward flame.
Then the homeroom teacher walked in, followed by a boy she didn't recognize.
He was tall, uniform crisp, posture loose but deliberate — and his eyes… unreadable.
> "This is our new transfer student, Bae Gyeon-woo," the teacher said. "Please make him feel welcome."
The moment his gaze swept the room and landed on hers, the shaman's sight roared awake.
The same reversed flame blazed in her vision.
The same fragile, dying light.
Her breath caught — sharp and silent.
The room was buzzing with restless movement — clients shifting on their feet, murmurs bouncing off the wooden walls, the scent of burning incense winding lazily into the air. But for Seong-ah, all of it faded the instant he walked in.
Gyeon-woo's presence was unassuming at first — a man simply stepping in alongside his grandmother, his gaze scanning the crowd without urgency. Yet, the moment his eyes swept across the space and inevitably landed on hers… everything changed.
It wasn't just a glance.
It was as though his gaze carried weight — invisible, yet heavy enough to still her heartbeat mid-thump.
And in that instant, the shaman's sight — that dormant, reluctant gift she had fought so hard to quiet — roared awake.
No gentle flicker. No cautious whisper.
It hit her like a flash of lightning behind her eyes.
There it was again — the same reversed flame she had seen once before.
It burned upside-down in her vision, an omen no shaman ever wished to witness.
A fire that wasn't giving warmth, but devouring what little time remained.
And threaded within it… a light.
Fragile. Unsteady. Trembling as though one breath, one wrong step, might snuff it out forever.
Her breath caught sharply, but no sound escaped her lips.
She didn't even realize she had stopped breathing until the air burned in her lungs.
That light — his light — told her everything in a heartbeat:
This man was dying.
And not in some distant, inevitable way.
Time was already counting down.
Her back, which had been bent slightly as she poured tea for a waiting client, straightened in a single, instinctive motion.
Not from pride. Not from formality.
From shock.
Her hands froze mid-movement, the ceramic cup trembling just enough for the liquid inside to ripple.
It was an almost imperceptible reaction — one most people in the bustling room would miss. But inside her, a storm had already been unleashed.
Gyeon-woo's gaze lingered a fraction longer than it should have, curious, perhaps faintly puzzled, before sliding away toward the small altar near the wall.
But that was all it took.
That single meeting of eyes had been enough to rip the shaman's inner vision wide open.
The upside-down flame danced in her mind again, unnatural and wrong.
The dying light flickered in the shadow of it — beautiful, but unbearably fragile.
Her heart pounded so hard she almost feared someone would hear it.
She knew this sign.
She had seen it once before.
And the boy she had seen it in… had not lived long enough to see the next full moon.
Her grandmother's voice, soft yet trembling with urgency, broke through the haze.
"He only has twenty-one days left to live."
The words hung in the air like incense smoke, curling into her ears, sinking into her bones.
Twenty-one days.
The number felt like a curse.
Like a ticking clock she could already hear, loud and merciless, counting down from the moment they locked eyes.
The sudden shift in her posture did not go unnoticed.
From the low table near the corner, a small cluster of women glanced her way — their eyes narrowing with the kind of quick judgment only idle gossip could sharpen.
"She stood up on purpose," one of them murmured, her voice just low enough to pretend it was private, just loud enough for others to hear.
Another leaned in, lips curling in a half-smirk.
"Attention seeker. Probably hoping he'll notice her."
A third girl, younger but no less sharp-tongued, let out a faint, derisive laugh.
"Pick-me girl," she muttered, the term rolling off her tongue like a final verdict.
The shaman's head turned slightly at the sound, brows knitting faintly.
She didn't know the phrase, not really.
But she caught the shift in tone — the snide rhythm of their voices.
Something about her had been misunderstood.
Her gaze flickered back to Gyeon-woo, who by now had turned his attention elsewhere, oblivious to the ripple her presence had caused.
She wasn't standing to be seen.
She was standing because what she saw demanded it — because the vision had hit her like a blow to the chest.
But explaining that?
She didn't bother.
Let them whisper.
Let them mistake her stillness for vanity.
Only she knew the truth — that it wasn't pride that straightened her spine, but fear.
Fear that the boy in front of her was already walking with death's shadow clinging to his shoulders.
The murmurs dulled into the background hum of the room, but they clung to her like burrs.
Seong-ah's hands felt strangely cold against the folds of her hanbok, her breath still caught somewhere between her ribs and her throat.
She lowered her gaze, not because of their words, but because if she kept looking at him, that reversed flame might sear her vision again.
Her feet moved before she fully decided to leave.
Past the women's table.
Past the crowd that still lingered to talk to the village healer.
Past the threshold where incense smoke thinned into the crisp evening air.
By the time she reached the old wooden gate, she could finally hear her own heartbeat over the noise inside.
The morning sun slanted across the classroom, catching dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. The soft drone of the homeroom teacher's voice was occasionally interrupted by giggles from the back row and the rustle of notebooks.
Seong-ah sat stiffly at her desk, hands folded over her skirt. She was still reeling from the night before — the shrine's candlelight, the heavy smell of incense, and the vision of Bae Gyeon-woo walking upside down toward her. That upside-down step… she could still feel it in her chest, as if her heartbeat had flipped with him.
Then the door slid open with a sharp clack.
The teacher stepped aside.
A boy in a perfectly pressed uniform strolled in — his hair just messy enough to seem deliberate, his posture loose but self-assured.
> "This is our new transfer student, Bae Gyeon-woo. Please make him feel welcome."
The room stirred with whispers.
"Whoa… he's cute."
"Where'd he transfer from?"
"Definitely not from around here…"
But Seong-ah wasn't hearing any of it.
The moment his gaze swept the room and landed on hers, the shaman's sight roared awake.
Her breath caught — sharp and silent.
The same reversed flame burned behind his silhouette in her vision, flickering backwards against the natural flow of time.
Without realizing it, she straightened in her seat, almost standing, her body reacting before her mind caught up.
The whispers around her sharpened.
"Is she standing so he'll notice her?"
One girl in the corner scoffed loudly, "Ugh, she's such a pick-me."
Seong-ah blinked, not even sure what the term meant — only aware that the boy's gaze hadn't left hers.
The teacher gestured for him to take the empty seat by the window. He passed by her desk, the faint scent of soap and something crisp like pine brushing past her nose.
As he sat, she dropped back into her chair, heart hammering so loudly she was sure someone could hear.
From behind her, a low chuckle.
Pyo Ji-ho leaned forward and whispered, "What was that? You trying to get his attention?"
Seong-ah shook her head quickly, but her mind was elsewhere.
She wasn't trying to get noticed — she was trying to decide how to save the boy whose flame was already dying.
" That what if he find out that she is the shaman he saw and meet earlier?"