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365 days Under His Skin
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I slowly opened my eyes only to see an endless white... All four directions are surrounded by white; there is no sky, no sun, just endless crystal white.
No shadow.
No human.
Just...nothing.
I blinked again. The air felt thick, like it was made of cotton. My hands moved, but I couldn't feel any weight in them. My body was here, but it wasn't. I didn't even know what form I was in.
"Am I...dead?"
The question left my lips in a whisper, swallowed by silence. Not even an echo. I exhaled deeply, gathering my courage, and took a step forward, but strangely, there was no sound. The ground looked like polished ice, but I didn't slip. I didn't feel anything at all.
Then I heard it.
A faint sound in the distance, the sound of someone whistling a cheerful tune.
A figure approached, slowly taking shape against the blank canvas of white. A man with soft lavender-purple hair that fell slightly over his brows, the light catching faint lilac tones at the tips. His face was like something sculpted from moonlight: a smooth, symmetrical jaw, wide-set eyes that shimmered like they held galaxies, and plump lips curved into a smirk that felt like he knew everything. His skin had a gentle glow, almost porcelain-like but warmer. Like a prince who didn't belong in this world—or maybe one who ruled it. He wore a black leather jacket over a crisp white shirt, paired with stylish pants and spotless white sneakers.
There is a silver chain around his neck with a small hourglass locket that is filled with slow-drifting purple sand. On his wrist, a chained pocket watch was wrapped like a cuff, its ticking faint, but that's the second sound I could hear after his whistle in echo.
Tick. Tick. Tick
Cool.
He finally stopped, only a few feet from me. He tilted his head, and his smirk turned into a full smile. It wasn't warm; it wasn't cold either. It was the kind of smile that made you realize he knew something you didn't. Just like his previous smirk, but in detail.
What a handsome man!
"Thank you," he said with the same smile, looking up through his lashes. His voice is soft and melodic, like the tune he whistled before. Calming and cheerful.
I almost jumped as soon as those words left his lips. "For what?" I blurted immediately, startled again at the unfamiliar voice coming from my throat; it was that same deep and hoarse voice.
"For the compliment," the lavender-haired one replied casually, which made my eyes go wide.
"How did you—"
"I can just read your mind," he said with a simple, confident shrug before even the question slipped out. "And not just that, I know your name too, Kim Taeha," he added, making me gasp.
"W-Who the hell are you? D-Do you know me?" I asked him, my words fluttering in between. I didn't get it. How can he even say who I am? My full name? Who is he?
He nodded, humming softly. "Of course, I know who you are, and you are in the body of Lee Taekyung, someone who is a total stranger to you." He answered, pointing his index finger at me.
I looked down at myself, confirming I was still in the male body. "What is this? Am I dead? Is this heaven? And who are you?!"
I don't know how petrified I am right now. Me in a stranger's body, then what happened to my previous one?
"Poor child," he clicked his tongue sympathetically. "No, you're not dead. At least not permanently."
"What does that mean? Am I still alive? If I am, then where was I? What's this place? Why am I in his body? I—"
"Woah Woah, hold on, hold on," He cut me off, let out a sigh, and almost looked so tired and held his head, rubbing his temple. "God, so many questions; I have never seen such a noisy human ever," he said, shaking his head.
"Anyway My name is Kai. I am the guardian of this place," he introduced himself. "And yeah, this is neither hell nor heaven; you are neither dead nor alive, and I can't tell you that because I have some rules to follow, dear."
I rolled my eyes at his sweet voice and how easily he declines, but one thing is clear: I am somewhere in between everything in the world and the body I am living in.
"So, you are kind of an angel or grim reaper type."
"Grim reapers, nah nah, I'm not like them; maybe be an angel suits." He said with a wink, making me scoff.
"Okay, whatever. But Mr. Kai, what the hell am I doing here? I'm too young to be here, you know Iam just twenty-two." I said with tears rolling in my eyes like a puppy.
"Taeha, you are twenty-two years old in your body, but now you're not Taeha anymore. You are Lee Taekyung, a twenty-seven-year-old man."
"Twenty-seven?!" I said loudly, my eyes having popped out of their sockets, that it even pained. "How can I be a twenty-seven-year-old Body and that too A MAN's body?! And a total stranger? I have never heard his name ever, and how can I even survive?"
"Of course it is quite hard to survive," he said, pressing his lips into a slim line, his cheek puffing, "but yeah, that's kind of destiny's plan, and you're going to stay in his body, and that's your body for the next year."
A YEAR!! A FUCKING YEAR!!! That's too much.
"W-what?! What do you mean, a year? This isn't my body! Just tell me where my original body is. Or at least if I'm alive or not?" The questions tumbled out in a panic.
Kai smiled enigmatically. "Just like I told you, I can't say it, but don't you like it? You will have a new year in a new body, and it's almost like a boon. You can do whatever you want in it or maybe with it, but in a year—"
"I'm asking about my—"
"AND mostly you can be the writer working with the top-class actors and actresses," he interrupted.
My words died in my throat. I had forgotten every but and question that was dancing on my tongue.
Writer... Actors and actresses... Working with top-class actors and actresses... wait, that means the man I saw earlier...
"That means... That really was actor Lee Hyungshik?" I whispered to myself and looked up at Kai, whose smile widened. Not answering to it, but not denying it either.
Am I dreaming? Working with top-class actors and actresses as a writer. A real writer! The very dream that had seemed so impossibly distant just moments ago—or was it hours ago? But it was all here now.
A strange body, a strange place, but a very real chance at the life I always wanted...
"But there is one condition," Kai continued, interrupting my thoughts. His voice dropped a note lower and more serious, and his eyebrows drew slightly together. For the first time since I've been here, I've seen him speak about something serious.
And of course, there would be a catch if I got this free, so-called yet useful boon.
"What is it?"
"In this one year, you cannot fall in love with anyone," he said slowly, each word deliberate, which hit me like a fast slap in the middle of this moment.
I blinked, trying to get out of the daze of words slapping. "So... So you want me to die single even in this body?"
Though I don't know if my original me is alive or dead, or whatever, since this purple head isn't ready to tell... But this one should be answered.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "It's for your best interest, Taeha," he said, his voice softer now. "When your time is up, you'll be leaving this body. The person who loved you would suffer. Do you want that?"
He has a point. If I had fallen for someone, had a relationship, and then suddenly disappeared, someone would be left heartbroken. Also, it's so stupid of me to think of love while I'm in a male body.
"Alright then, deal."
"Oh, don't worry. Beyond that, nothing will happen even if you break the condition," Kai said with an irritatingly handsome smile that suggested otherwise. It didn't matter how pretty or handsome he looked—he was a walking red signal wrapped in leather and purple hair.
A thousand questions swirled in my head, but before I could voice any of them, Kai continued, his tone now oddly businesslike. "As I mentioned, he is a writer who works with dramas; he is quite talented, though recently struggling with burnout, much like yourself." His eyes flicked to mine knowingly. I didn't answer.
"His latest project is a romantic drama series that's in pre-production. You'll have his memories to guide you through the basics of his life—memories that will surface when needed," he said with a wink.
I nodded absentmindedly at his words, processing the information about Taekyung. So I was stepping into the life of a struggling drama writer. A real professional world. With deadlines, actors, and scripts. And I wouldn't know enough to survive it. Honestly? It was...kind of exciting. A total mess for sure.
"I can see you're intrigued," Kai said smugly, once again digging through my thoughts like they were public blog posts.
"Stop reading my thoughts," I huffed, glaring at him. "At least pretend you can't hear everything I'm thinking."
He chuckled, the sound echoing strangely in the white emptiness. "Apologies. But you should remember the condition."
"Right, right, no falling in love," I snapped, waving my hands dismissively. "Seems simple enough. I'm not exactly looking for romance."
"You say that now," Kai replied, voice low and amused. That same knowing look again, the one that made me want to throw something at him if I could just find anything to throw.
"But a year is a long time, Taeha. And hearts?" He tapped the locket resting over his heart. "They're the most unpredictable things of all."
I rolled my eyes. "I'll manage. I didn't come here to chase love. I came here to write."
"Then writer-nim," he said, stepping closer, his eyes staring deeply into mine. "Remember, every story has a twist."
I was so lost in his deep brown eyes in relief. It started to glow purple slowly. That's when I realized that I almost forgot to ask what happens to my body and my life while I live in this body. I blinked forcefully, bringing myself back.
My lips parted as the words came out, "But what about—" Before I could ask, he flicked his forefinger against my forehead. The sensation was oddly sharp, like a shock, and too fast like lightning.
"Happy New Year, Kim Taeha," he whispered.
And that's the last thing I have heard.
The white space wrapped around me, colors and shapes rushing in from all sides. I fell backward, tumbling through nothingness, a scream frozen in my throat.
Then-impact. Not painful, but jarring. My eyes flew open with a loud gasp, lungs catching the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
I lay there blinking, chest rising and falling rapidly as I looked up at a plain off-white ceiling.
Where am I?
"Taekyung!" A man lunged into view—not the actor lookalike from before, but he was that tanned, handsome man. His little fishlike light brown eyes dilated as every soft feature was etched with worry. Then the memories of Taekyung flooded in: Kang Junho, head of their department at the company. Just not a head but also a best friend of his.
"Thank God," he breathed in relief. "You scared theshitout of us. You know how frightened I was!" He said it more like yelling at me.
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. What would Taekyung say? But he didn't seem to notice my internal panic.
"Taking pills like candy? Running out like a madman and almost getting hit by a truck? Really? What's next, juggling knives for fun?" He brushed his hand through his hair. "I swear to god, Taekyung-ah, if you pull this shit again—"
"Junho." The sharp voice came from the doorway. Director Jung Yohan Taekyung's memories rushed as soon as I saw the person.
Thanks to Kai.
Yohan leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his gaze locked on me. Unlike Junho's frantic energy, his stillness was unnerving. Like he was waiting for me to slip up.
But slip up about what?!
Junho huffed. "Fine, fine. I'll go get the doctor. Don't scare him while I'm gone." He shot a warning look at me before slipping out. The door clicked shut.
...
Silence, the silence filled the hospital room. It's too suffocating, mostly the presence of Yohan and his gaze, and suddenly, he pushed off the wall and walked closer to my bed.
He stopped right next to my bed, leaning forward, as it's easy to talk to me if he is going to use a low tone. "You weren't trying to kill yourself."
It wasn't a question. Definitely not. I stiffened. Not knowing how to answer, but the words came anyway, hoarse, "I-I don't know what you're talking about."
"The pills," he tilted his head. His dark hair falling just above his lashes, along with his tilt. "You took them to sleep, not to die. So why lie to Junho?" he continued.
Shit.
A flicker of something... Taekyung's memory flashed in my mind: Yohan handing him a ginger tea, their fingers brushing. A quiet, "You're pushing too hard, Taekyung-ssi."
I brushed the memory away.
I swallowed the lump. "...I didn't want him to worry." But Yohan didn't look convinced.
His eyes narrowed. "Since when?" he asked, leaning in while holding the metal bed rail like it was the only thing stopping him from pulling the truth straight out of me. "Since when did you start worrying, Taekyung-sii?" He added.
The name felt so foreign that it almost made me search for the person he was talking to, but it was me. This director guy is too intimidating and yet I... I couldn't look away from his sharp gaze.
But before I could answer something stupid, the door swung open again. Yohan straightened, taking a step back from my bed while Junho marched in, trailed by a doctor who looked as tired as I felt.
The doctor shone a light in my eyes, and the world tilted. I blinked rapidly, wincing at the sudden glare of the light.
"As expected," the doctor replied briskly, scribbling something on the chart at the foot of my bed. "Heavy overdose. Surprisingly, your body's responding well now, but you need rest. And someone needs to take care of him."
I didn't miss the way his eyes flicked between Junho and Yohan when he said that last part. Like he knew exactly who'd be doing the supervising and that it wasn't going to be optional.
"Oh, don't worry, doctor, I am here to take care of my best friend along with our director," Junho said, placing his hands on both of my wide shoulders with a smile while I looked at the director, who was already staring at me.
"We'll keep a keen eye on him from now on," he added with a press on my shoulders. It was warm but kind and foreign to me, and I quickly tore my gaze from Yohan's and looked back at Junho.
"Well then, you can take him home; there isn't anything to worry about—just make sure he doesn't take those pills again," the doctor said, closing the file with a snap. "Luckily, he's still alive even with that heavy dose," he added, walking away as if he were talking to himself.
The three of us stared at the doctor for a moment until he left. "You should also consider you are more than lucky," Junho said, getting my attention. Then he looked at me, continuing, "that you were saved by Yohan; if not, the truck would have killed you before the pills had shown their effect."
I pressed my lips into a thin line, suppressing every overwhelming emotion that was getting through me. I looked up at Yohan; this time, he wasn't staring at me.
So from now on, this is going to be my place to be their friend, their colleague, and their writer. God, I am already exhausted, and now I regret being greedy and getting tempted by the deal like a fool.
Okay, whatever, I signed up for it. I can't stay like a low-life fanfic writer wasting potential. I'll do it. I can do it.
After clearing the hospital bills and paperwork, Junho had insisted on driving me home. Yohan had insisted on following us. Now, standing in Taekyung's apartment—my apartment?—I had to fight the urge to bolt.
It wasn't... sparse; rather, it's quite big and neat. It's a far cry from my own matchbox-sized studio apartment. A single framed photo sat on the desk: a younger Taekyung, I guess, with a woman who must've been his mother. I can see the similarities; both are smiling stiffly.
Overworked. Family pressure. Sound familiar? Isn't it?
Junho flopped onto the couch. "Alright, patient zero. Rules: No work for a week. No spicy food. AndAbsolutelyno—"
"Pills," Yohan finished from the kitchen, where he was making tea.
Junho pointed at Yohan. "See? Even Mr. Stoic agrees. You're officially banned from self-destruction."
I opened my mouth, then froze. A script sat on the table, half-finished.Eclipse.Isn't this the same script I saw on the table when I first awoke in his body? My finger twitched to reach out for the script.
But Yohan's voice cut through the silence. "Leave it." I looked up. He held out a mug of barley tea, not coffee? "You're not working tonight."
For a second, I considered arguing. Like he had been asking questions—no, that's no problem—but as a director, he should understand how important it must be for Taekyung to complete it. Then exhaustion crashed over me. There is no point in arguing; he is just trying to help. Even if it doesn't feel like help right now.
I reached out for the mug from Yohan's hands. Our fingers brushed again, accidentally, but it sent a jolt of something unfamiliar down my spine. His gaze held mine for a moment too long, something unspoken flickering behind his dark eyes, before he stepped back.
Junho whistled low. "Wow. You didn't even argue. Maybe the hospital visit really did rest your brain."
I managed a tired smile and sank into the couch opposite him, cradling the tea. It was warm. Nutty. Comforting in a way I didn't expect.
"Okay, now food. I'm thinking about fried chicken. And soju. And—"
"No alcohol," Yohan said flatly.
I sipped the bitter, earthy tea and let their bickering wash over me. This wasn't my life. Everything I knew—my body, my name, my world—was now just gone. And in its place, this new body. This strange, male body.
A half-written life. An unfinished script. And two people who somehow cared enough to stay.
For now, that had to be enough
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Thanks for reading. See you in the next chapter.
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