My dear readers, I decided to post chapters as soon as they are ready, not to space them out. At this point, I'm disappointed in the fact that people are not leaving reviews, but I won't let it deter me from finishing this story that I care about and love. If you like the story, then review and comment, so that I know. Otherwise, I will have to sadly assume that there are only a couple of people who are still interested. Nevertheless, "That Person" is my baby and I won't abandon for the lack of response.
The lights went out.
One by one, the parts of the grid around the source of the power surge began to shut down. In a domino affect, the darkness started spreading out, turning the luminescent city into a deadly metropolis. With the lights gone, life has drained out from the streets and the tiny sparks of the windows slowly started flickering again, as the residents turned on emergency supplies of candles and flash lights.
The electrical grid was blown. Again.
Formed by the strong self-containing current, the white beam of light and smoke of the tornado-like column cut through the silent air with a powerful noise. Once it dissipated, a man's unmoving silhouette appeared in its wake. Tall and black robed, he held a sword in his hand, his posture straight, his features solemn and baring signs of deep concentration. Not a muscle twitched. His eyes closed.
Then his body moved, as if regaining strengths sucked out by the arduous journey; his chest rose and a breath came from the depth of his lungs, his eyes opened and he slowly turned, looking around and recognizing his surroundings.
He stepped down from underneath a white rotunda of the Hwata's gate portal and into the 2020 of modern Seoul.
. . .
A slender woman trembled, and folding her arms, rubbed her naked shoulders. Her short hair framed her thin face, she habitually moved a lock behind her ear and pressed her lips in worry. Dragging her hand along the covers, by touch she located a piece of clothing and pulled it over her shoulders, cuddling into the thick knit cardigan, her fingers sliding into the deep pockets. She flung her feet down, also locating her slippers by touch before fully getting up from her bed.
"Min Ho-shi, where are the candles? Can you get some light in here, please?" She called.
"Sure. Don't go anywhere, I will be right there," a man's voice responded from behind the door. She moved impatiently to the window and pulled the curtain to the side, only to see nothing but a sky with stars that suddenly were huge; her arm lifted, as if trying to touch a bright moon which peered at her shamelessly.
"Wow, every time I see it, I can never get used to the sky being so close. We have been getting black outs frequently lately. What is going on, I wonder?" she mumbled to herself.
A man came inside, carrying a tray with candles. He was dressed in a comfy t-shirt and jeans; he looked like he was ready for a while and was not caught asleep, like she was, when the black out occurred.
"I have to go out for a little. Don't worry, go back to sleep."
"Now? Why? You always leave when this happens. Don't you know that I hate the dark?" she grabbed his hand. "Hug me first?"
"Ok," he agreed with a slight hesitation and tensed before accepting her on his chest. She was comfortable against his warmth and smiled.
"Why do you always tense when we hug?"
"I don't."
"I know, I know. I'm making you uncomfortable. Sorry," she pulled back her giving him a bashful look. "Can I sleep in your room while you are gone?"
"Sure."
. . .
"I promised to take care of her," the man said, low and strong.
"Are you lovers?"
He stumbled and swallowed, "She does not remember you."
Choi Young stood quietly, his face stern, steely expression in his eyes unreadable. "Are you lovers?" he repeated, almost as if he did not care and was simply gathering information.
"Talk to her," Min Ho continued, "It is complicated."
"What's complicated? It is a yes or no question."
"She thinks we are," spoken softly, apologetically.
"She does? And you don't?" Another tired look, without much concern. "Did you sleep with her?"
"No, I did not. I promise."
"Then?"
"It's complicated."
"Damn it! Tell me the truth!" Finally, something broke through the neutral façade, maybe impatience or maybe irritation.
"The truth is that she is healthy and alive. The truth is she does not remember you, Daejang. You, the you from before – does not exist."
"Do you have feelings for her?"
"It is irrelevant."
"So she does, then?"
"She does not know any better. It is not her fault. I was there for her all the time, that's the only thing she knows." Min Ho was growing flustered with this inquisition.
"What year is it?"
"2020."
"Good. Her parents?"
"Dead."
"So, they did not tell her, either?"
"Like I said, it is complicated."
"And Moon Hee Jun?"
"He is married now. He is doing well. He asks about you sometimes."
"He did not tell her about me, either, then."
"He assumed that you left her, so he was mad."
"Good," he said again, thinking. "Well, then. Thank you. I'll be going."
"You won't see her?" Incredulous, the actor glared at Choi Young.
"Is she happy?"
"She is not sad."
"Then no."
"She is struggling with her ability, Daejang. She does not understand it, it scares her. Can't you at least help her?"
Exasperated, he grabbed the warrior's arm, but Choi Young pushed it off and with chilling calmness, confirmed, "She trusts you, does not she? You do that."
"It's not my place."
"Not my place either." Choi Young turned and stepped back into the rotunda.
"You love her, I know you do. Why are you doing that?" Screamed Min Ho. "Come back to her, she needs you."
"She does not need me, she just needs to be loved. If you can do that, I give you my permission. Make her happy." He closed his eyes and elongated his body, straight like an arrow. His KI began glowing, creating an aura of light around his form and a white column of wind and light began to form.
Intuitively, the actor recognized this was not an argument he could ever win, and fear that Daejang will disappear forever took over. It struck him that there wouldn't be another chance, the finality in Choi Young's grief-stricken gaze was indubitable. Grasping at the straws, Min Ho yelled fighting against the strong wind picking up quickly and powerfully. "You can't go! Stay! You have a son. You have to see him."
. . .
"I had a son." His voice was so drained, it was almost scary to recognize him as the man of his former glory...
"He is yours."
"I remember faintly,... but I'm not myself. You will make a better father for him." The voice came out brusque and pressured, and with a raspy breath, Choi Young felt his eyelids turn into lead.
"Daejang! Come to your senses!" Min Ho was shaking him, the warrior's face pale as cotton and as lifeless. What on earth happened to Daejang to make him give up like that?
He has already stepped out from the portal's reach, but his energy was compromised. Each trip killed a few more cells in his brain and in his body and to rejuvenate himself – well, he just did not have that time. He was in a race against years, decades and sometimes centuries. In an impossible race against himself and fate, trying to outsmart and outmaneuver statistical probabilities and overcome complex time travel algorithm of cosmic proportions, governing time, space and him in the middle of it all – one ever present variable, never changing.
"Hold on, she can heal you. If anybody can, it's her."
. . .
Min Ho was panting, the heavy load was breaking his back and buckling his knees. Piggybacking a man of this size with twice as much muscle weight and some serious weaponry was far beyond his regular human abilities. Yet, somehow he managed to be in front of his door, entering the security code, grimacing in pain and groaning without restraint.
The electricity was still out. He crouched against the wall, making sure Choi Young's feet hit the ground and pressed him flush against the vertical surface, turning and holding him up.
"Where are we?"
"Home. Wait." He let go, fearing to hear a thud, but Choi Young managed to place his weight on a foyer console, although he could not see, he felt the cold stone surface against his skin. He thought that stone would be strong enough to hold him and he was not wrong in his estimation.
Min Ho checked the boy's room first. He was asleep in his bed, a healthy sleep of a healthy child. Then his bedroom; like he suspected, Eun Soo was curled in a ball under the covers only a few stubborn strands of her hair stuck from underneath the blanket, the defiant red, the only defiant part of her still present.
"Come this way," he offered his shoulder to the general, who accepted it groaning, dragging along his almost paralyzed body on sheer upper body strength.
It was a room of a woman. A scent was faint, but obvious. His head hit the pillow and something pinched his heart painfully, as if it was frozen and started to thaw.
"Rest for now," commanded Lee Min Ho and stepped back, watching and listening for the breathing to even out and moans to recede. He sighed, wondering what was wrong with him and why he has been doing this after all the years. His life, his career – never the same, Eun Soo's and her son's life so entangled with his. Why would he complicate it any further? He knew in his gut nothing good would come out of it.
The couch was long, specifically purchased to accommodate his height if he ever wanted a nap. He stretched, rubbing his knees, his calves, and thighs; his joins and muscles aching, his back tight, his neck and shoulders hard as a rock in spasm… He will regret it for sure tomorrow even more. If only he had the power to travel back in time…