The rain pounded against her skin, seeping into her bones and chilling her to the core. Water dripped from the brim of her hood, obscuring her vision, but she pushed on, her eyes scanning the crowded streets frantically. Where could he be? She had to find him.
As she walked, the raincoat and boots that had seemed like adequate protection now felt woefully inadequate. Water seeped into her boots, squelching between her toes, and her clothes clung to her shivering body. She quickened her pace, the umbrella blown inside out by the wind, offering little respite.
The feeling of being watched grew stronger, and she spun around, her eyes darting between the faceless strangers rushing past. But there was no one there. Just the rain and the gray buildings looming like sentinels.
She turned back, her pace accelerating into a near-run. The streets seemed to stretch on forever, and the rain showed no signs of letting up. Suddenly, a shiver ran down her spine, and she felt a presence behind her. She spun around again, her heart racing, but the misty veil of rain shrouded everything in a damp, gray mist.
And then, she saw nothing. But the feeling remained, a creeping sense of being stalked. Her breath caught in her throat as she picked up speed, her eyes scanning the rain-soaked streets for any sign of safety. Where was her son? And who – or what – was behind her?
As she stepped into her home, the sudden sight of two huddled figures brought her to an abrupt halt. A mother and child, drenched and shivering, occupied the corner of the room. Their eyes, like two pairs of dark pools, looked up at her with a mix of desperation and hope.
The mother's tattered cloak was wrapped tightly around her frail frame, and her child's small body trembled with each ragged breath. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth and damp clothing. The woman's gaze locked onto the pair, and for a moment, she forgot about the storm raging outside.
Her eyes softened, and she moved swiftly towards them, her footsteps quiet on the cushioned floor. "Oh, dear ones," she murmured, her voice filled with compassion. "You must be freezing." She gestured towards the warmth of the fire pit, where a kettle hung suspended over a low flame. "Come, warm yourselves. I'll get some hot tea , flatbread and blankets." The mother's eyes welled up with gratitude .
The woman's words were like a gentle breeze on a summer's day, soft and soothing. She watched as the mother and child devoured the flatbread, their hunger evident in every bite. Yun hye-ran's eyes filled with compassion as she gazed at them, her voice barely above a whisper. "Eat slowly," she cautioned, her tone laced with kindness.
As the child ate, Yun hye-ran gently coaxed them to sip the herbal tea, her movements tender and maternal. "Poor things," she murmured, her eyes welling up with pity. "Child, eat this, go on." The little one looked up at his mother, who nodded encouragingly, before taking a sip of the warm liquid. Yun hye-ran's face softened further, her expression a mixture of empathy and warmth.
With a gentle touch, she draped the blanket around the mother and child, enveloping them in a warm cocoon. The mother's eyes welled up with gratitude as she pulled her child close, the little one's eyes shining with a mix of happiness and exhaustion. As the mother took small, desperate bites of the flatbread, the woman's gaze lingered on them, her expression softening with compassion. The warmth of the blanket and the simple meal seemed to be working its magic, slowly chasing away the chill and hunger that had gripped them.
Yun hye-ran's footsteps were soft as she retreated to her bedroom, her head shaking gently in a mixture of pity and understanding. She couldn't bear to watch the desperation in the mother and child's eyes, the hunger and cold etched on their faces. As she disappeared into the privacy of her room, the door closed softly behind her, leaving the mother and child to their meager meal and the warmth of the blanket. The sound of her footsteps faded, replaced by the gentle hum of the wind outside and the quiet satisfaction of the child as they ate.
As the fleeting seconds ticked by, a gasp escaped the mother's lips, her eyes wide with terror as she beheld a sinister silhouette watching her from the shadows. The peephole in the door had transformed into a portal of malevolence, a single, unblinking eye gazing at her with an intent so malignant that the very air seemed to thicken with malice. Her heart racing like a wild animal, she felt her breath catch in her throat as the child's small hands clutched at her tattered clothing, sensing the sudden tension that gripped her frame. The warmth of the blanket and the comfort of the flatbread were instantly forgotten, replaced by a primal urge to shield her child from the unseen danger that lurked beyond the door.
Hearing the poor mother's whimper, Yun Hye-ran rose from her bed and padded softly toward the bedroom door. Her heart thudded in quiet unease as she wrapped her fingers around the cold handle and eased it open, careful not to make a sound. Through the narrow gap, she peered into the dimly lit room, her eyes searching for the source of the mother's fear—what could have left her so stricken in the dead of night?
> Yun Hye-ran approached the door where the poor mother and her child had been fearfully staring for some time. Her heart pounding, she rushed forward, quickly bolted the door, and hurried away.
As soon as Yum Hye-ran stepped outside, the air changed — sharp, restless, wrong.
A heartbeat later, the door shuddered and splintered as something wild crashed through it, breathing like a storm that had lost its way.
The mother froze. Her scream tore out of her before she could stop it.
"Arghhh!"
"Mum!" the boy whimpered, clutching at her clothes, his small fingers twisting in the fabric as he buried his face against her.
The creature's eyes gleamed with hunger, its movements frantic, almost human in their desperation. Each step it took seemed to echo inside her chest.
The mother sank to her knees, pressing her child against her heart. She could feel it hammering — hers, his — the same rhythm of fear. She covered his eyes with one trembling hand, her voice breaking as she whispered,
"Don't look, my love. Don't look."
She bowed her head. She simply waited for the pain to come.
Suddenly, like a flash, a mystical alchemist darted forward, slamming the wild being against the wall and pinning its neck in place. His face was stern and unyielding as the creature squirmed and let out an eerie, evil squeal. Seizing the moment, the frightened woman and her child fled the house.
The mystical alchemist seized the creature by the neck and hurled it across the room. The wild being flew through the air and crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, yet it refused to surrender. Desperation burned in its eyes — it needed to switch souls with someone before it turned to stone.
It lunged forward, reaching out to drain power from Joo Sang-uk, the mystical alchemist himself. But before it could strike, a sharp crack split the air — the alchemist's rod lashed across its back. The creature cried out, tumbling into a heap of shattered tables and broken pots.
The mystical alchemist raised his hands slowly toward the air, gathering power with deliberate grace. His fingers moved in circular motions, tracing the pattern of an ancient ritual. Tiny droplets of water formed around him, swirling together until they condensed into a glowing sphere of ice in his palms.
When the sphere grew large enough, he hurled it at the wild creature.
"Arghhh!" it howled, roaring in fury — as though, if given another chance, it would tear the alchemist apart.
The ice shattered upon impact, melting into a torrent of freezing water that pooled beneath the creature's feet. The water rose higher and higher, encasing its legs, its torso, until it reached its shoulders. The swirling ice-water wrapped around its body like a living spell — burning cold, yet searing like fire.
The creature gnarled and thrashed, its cries echoing through the walls....