It was not a dream.
It was not love.
It was a warning—disguised as a kiss.
⸻
The feast lasted until midnight.
Lords made veiled offers. Poets left folded verses at my seat.
One of the Mori sons even tried to hand me a family heirloom, until Dōsan raised a brow and the poor man nearly tripped over himself apologizing.
I smiled through all of it.
Sipped sake when I could.
Laughed when I had to.
But my chest was tight.
Like I was running out of time—
Or running on borrowed time.
I rose and slipped out through the eastern corridor.
⸻
The air outside was cooler, quieter.
Moonlight poured over the gardens like silver paint.
The scent of lilies and sake lingered like memories.
I walked past the koi pond, past the lanterns, until I reached the corridor of windchimes.
The one that only rang when no one was near.
But tonight... they didn't sing.
Not until I turned.
⸻
"You left your own party," a voice said—low, smooth.
The kind of voice that didn't need to shout to be remembered.
I turned.
And froze.
There was no crest on his robes. No sigil, no clan colors.
No name.
Just a face—etched in perfect clarity.
Too perfect.
I had seen him before.
In the blur of my dream.
In the silence between waking and falling apart.
A stranger I had never met.
Yet somehow knew better than my own reflection.
My breath caught.
Not from fear.
From the unbearable familiarity of him.
Why him?
Why did his face emerge from the fog when everything else—my name, my memories, my life—remained a mystery?
"You watched me dance," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't deny it.
Didn't even blink.
His gaze was steady. Sharp.
The same one that found me earlier—across the grand hall, hidden among shadows and laughter.
It was his eyes that made me falter.
Mid-step, mid-spin.
My foot caught the floor. My breath stuttered.
And the music didn't notice.
But he did.
"Where did you learn to dance like that?" he asked.
I blinked slowly.
Carefully.
"Where I come from..." I began, "everyone learns to fight."
"And where is that?"
My lips parted.
But how do you say:
Another time.
Another world.
One where men like you belong only to museum plaques and history books.
Images flooding my head like they were my reality.
And yet oddly, they felt like it.
"Far," I said softly.
"Very far."
⸻
🌫️ FLASHBACK: "The Thunder That Tore The Curtain"
It had been raining when it happened.
I remember that clearly.
I was walking home from the university library, umbrella in one hand, leftover karaage in the other.
My thesis? Half-finished.
My playlist? Jazz covers.
My lockscreen? An old portrait of Nobunaga, because I'm the kind of girl who finds him more fascinating than any K-drama lead.
I was on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to change.
And then—
Thunder cracked.
So loud it shook my teeth.
So white it blinded me.
And when I opened my eyes again...
I wasn't in Tokyo.
I wasn't even in the same world.
I woke up in a rice field, wearing someone else's kimono.
Three horses galloped past me.
One rider screamed, "Get her before the enemy does!"
⸻
🌸 Back to Present: The Corridor
Were those even my memories?
Or worse—were they real at all?
Not flashes of a life lived, but fragments from a dream I never woke up from?
Tokyo. Blinding lights.
And me, standing still.
I didn't know if I was remembering...
or just imagining what I had lost.
I snapped back to the present at the sound of his voice.
"You're not a woman they can control."
"Neither are you a man who bows."
His eyes lingered on my lips.
A pause.
The windchimes stirred softly, like breath.
And then—
He stepped closer.
Took my hand gently.
And kissed me.
⸻
It wasn't rough.
It wasn't desperate.
It was intentional.
Like he knew exactly what this would change.
His lips brushed mine.
Soft. Certain. Warm.
And I panicked.
Wait—wait wait wait—
Is this happening?!
Have I even been kissed before?
Am I supposed to move my lips? Do I move my head? Do I—
Was that his tongue?!
Oh my—he's opening—he's trying to open my mouth—
I froze.
Absolutely froze.
I was sure I wasn't breathing. Just blinking.
Just... there.
A statue.
A kissing dummy.
He paused.
Just enough to notice.
And then—he chuckled.
Right against my lips.
The kind of laugh that made me want to run out of my own skin.
I was mortified.
He was amused.
"I won't bite," he whispered against my mouth.
Before I could come up with a response—any response—
he kissed me again.
Deeper this time.
Surer.
I felt his hand slid to the back of my head,
gently holding me closer.
As if giving me no room to escape now that I was his chosen curiosity.
My brain shut down.
All it knew was this:
He was kissing me like it meant something.
And I didn't know if I was ready to find out what.
⸻
He pulled away, slowly.
Watched the thoughts scatter across my face.
"You don't belong to anyone, Helena.
Not even to the one who calls you daughter."
"How do you know my name?" I whispered.
But he was already walking away.
⸻
🌒 The End Of The Night
I stood there, heart thundering.
The kiss still tingling against my lips.
Somewhere in the hall, a gong echoed.
The feast was ending.
But for me—
Something ancient had just awakened.
And this time, it was staring directly at me.