The morning air hung thick and humid, carrying the mingled scents of spices, fresh produce, and the faint undercurrent of exhaust fumes. The bustling supper market was a chaotic symphony of vendors hawking their wares, shoppers haggling for prices, and the general cacophony of urban life. Amidst this vibrant chaos, Seojun's stall stood out – not because of its elaborate decorations or flashy signage, but because of its quiet, understated elegance.
A simple, hand-painted sign proclaimed: Fortune Telling – Ask Your Questions
Written in a flowing script that hinted at an ancient wisdom. The stall itself was minimalist – a small wooden table draped with a dark blue cloth, a few scattered crystals and tarot cards arranged artfully on top. Seojun sat behind the table with an air of serene detachment, a large paper fan lazily circling in his hand.
He wore plain white gym shorts and a long-sleeved black shirt, the simple attire a deliberate contrast to the flamboyant displays of many of the other vendors. His raven hair was neatly tied back in a low ponytail, revealing the sharp angles of his jawline and the intense focus in his ice-ocean eyes. He didn't smile, didn't offer a welcoming gesture. He simply *was* – an enigmatic presence amidst the bustling market.
A few curious shoppers paused to glance at his stall, their expressions ranging from skepticism to cautious interest. Seojun acknowledged them with a subtle nod, his gaze unwavering and unnervingly perceptive. He seemed to see *through* them, past their carefully constructed facades and into the hidden depths of their desires and fears.
The first customer approached hesitantly – a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a worried expression.
"How do I know you aren't a scammer?" The middle age woman asked. Seojun set his fan down and he tapped his finger.
"Your eyes brows are tight, you have been having trouble sleeping for the past three months now, it started after you went to see your grandfather grave, you have a son and daughter both married, and have kids, your husband works as a baker," Seojun replied to the old woman.
The woman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at Seojun, her initial skepticism dissolving into a mixture of awe and apprehension.
"How... how did you know all that?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.
Seojun merely shrugged, his expression remaining impassive.
"I see what is," he replied simply, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the bustling market.
"The past, the present... they are all laid bare." He picked up a tarot card from the table – The Tower – and turned it face down. "A period of upheaval is coming," he stated matter-of-factly.
"But from the ruins, something new will be built."
The woman swallowed hard, her eyes darting nervously around the stall.
"Why have I been having headaches?" The middle age woman asked.
"Don't you have a wooden statue?" Seojun asked.
The woman's face paled visibly. She wrung her hands together, her knuckles white as she struggled to form a coherent response.
"Yes… yes, I do," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly.
"It's a… a small wooden carving of Buddha. My grandfather gave it to me before he passed."
Seojun nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.
"It's been attracting negative energy," he stated matter-of-factly.
"A restless spirit is clinging to it." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"You need to cleanse it."
The woman looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Cleanse it? How?"
"Bury it under the oldest tree in your garden," Seojun instructed without emotion.
"And leave it there for seven days after that it will be fine."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the small crowd that had gathered around Seojun's stall. The woman's stunned silence and palpable fear had created an atmosphere of hushed anticipation. Others, emboldened by her initial reaction, began to step forward, eager to test the enigmatic fortune teller's abilities.
A young man with a nervous demeanor and a carefully styled haircut approached next. He clutched a crumpled photograph in his hand, his eyes darting around as if expecting someone to snatch it away.
"Will I get the promotion?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Seojun didn't even look at him he was busy playing with Bao Bao.
Seojun lazily flicked his wrist and Bao Bao jumped on his shoulder.
"You will not your eyebrows are dark, cracked nose, your eyes are narrowed close together," Seojun said while he stopped talking for a long moment.
"You have done so many evil deeds," Seojun replied to him the man pointed at Seojun.
"How dare you! You are a scammer! A scammer!" James shouted grabbing other people attentions.
Seojun didn't even bother to look at James, continuing to idly stroke Bao Bao's fur. The fluffy spirit animal purred contentedly, nuzzling against Seojun's cheek. The nonchalance was infuriating, and James visibly bristled under the dismissive treatment.
"I'm reporting you to the market authorities!" James sputtered, his face reddening with anger.
"This is fraud! You're preying on vulnerable people!"
Seojun finally deigned to glance up, his ice-ocean eyes fixing on James with an unsettling intensity. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips.
"Reporting me?" he echoed, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Not only do you two boys and two girls hidden at your home but you have human trafficked children before," Seojun said. James tried to move forward to hit Seojun who with swift movements blocked the hit he than grabbed James who was taller than him. Seojun was short for a being a man but that didn't matter his movement were smooth and beautiful.
"I already called the cops," Seojun said.
Before James could even sputter a denial, the wail of sirens cut through the bustling market noise. Two uniformed police officers pushed their way through the crowd, their faces grim and professional. They immediately zeroed in on James, who was now visibly paling under the weight of Seojun's accusation.
"James Harding?" one of the officers asked, holding up a photograph that matched the nervous young man standing before them. James stammered, trying to deny everything, but his voice lacked conviction. The officers ignored his protests and efficiently cuffed him, leading him away amidst a growing chorus of gasps and whispers.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea, allowing the officers to navigate through with ease.
"You bastard I will kill you!" James shouted while he tried to break free and Seojun rolled his eyes. If he could die this easily what is the point of being alive?
"Officer! He threaten me isn't that another prison time?" Seojun asked, adopting a posture of wounded innocence. He widened his eyes, letting a single, perfectly formed tear trace a path down his cheek. It was an act worthy of an Oscar, and the onlookers seemed thoroughly charmed by his apparent vulnerability.
Officer Blackwell, a seasoned veteran with a perpetually weary expression, looked from James's struggling form to Seojun with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. He'd seen his share of charlatans and con artists in his time, but this young man… this young man was something else entirely.
"Threatening someone is another prison time," Officer Blackwell snapped at James, his voice devoid of any warmth. He gestured to his partner, who efficiently secured James in the patrol car. "And resisting arrest will only add to the charges."
As the patrol car pulled away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake, Officer Blackwell turned his attention back to Seojun. He leaned against the table, crossing his arms and observing the fortune teller with a critical eye.
"You have a way with words, kid, if you don't mind come with us to do a statement."