One: December Rain

Lightning streaked through the sky, momentarily diluting its intense blood crimson hue to a softer shade of rose. Min Yoongi abruptly stopped in his tracks to observe the strange phenomenon. He couldn't even remember the last time it rained in December. It was supposedly the driest month of the year.

"And they say climate change isn't real," he muttered with a slight shake of his head.

Ignoring the annoyed curses aimed his way, he unzipped his backpack, took out the camera he always carried for times like this, and fiddled with the settings to find the best angle for a shot. Just then, the city's newly completed Sky Rail hissed overhead dangling from an almost invisible sheet of metal. It was as if the world was split into two and another dimension appeared above where an overgrown snake glided through a blood-tainted river.

Perfect.

Pressing on the shutter, he launched a barrage of clicks. A quick review showed he got the perfect photo for his next think piece. Satisfied, he tucked his camera away and resumed his leisurely walk. He was only a block away from the radio station where he worked as a DJ for a late-night program when water droplets started pouring from the sky. Pulling up the hood of his goose-feather jacket, Yoongi hastened his steps, the earthy scent of rain invading his nostrils. Soon, the cold seeped into every crevice left exposed by his clothing. His teeth started chattering. When the rain began pouring in earnest, quickly consuming the light grey pavement with black splatters, he broke into a run.

Panting, he ducked into the convenience store on the ground floor of his office building. Heat blasted him in the face, providing much-needed relief. With icy hands, he swung his backpack off, searched for the pack of tissues he kept inside, and wiped himself dry. After discarding his trash, he went in search of his usual dinner--- instant ramyeon topped with an egg.

Avoiding the crowd blocking the passages near the counter, Yoongi took the long way by going to the back where a refrigeration unit occupied the entire wall. One column was lit a neon pink with posters advertising a soju brand claiming the ability to erase painful memories after drinking a bottle. Personally, he thought it was a load of bull, but many of his peers swore by its efficacy. Never in his life would he try it, though, so he'll never know for certain, too.

For one, he thought it absolutely horrendous how these corporations were using people's grief to sell products. Depressed? Drown yourself in alcohol? Heartbroken? Have some soju to forget. Instead of investing all that research budget on finding a cure for cancer, they developed this silly product instead.

"Negative effects of capitalism," he said under his breath.

Although Yoongi didn't wish anyone pain, it was necessary for any species' survival. Moths, for instance, whose attraction to light has caused multiple casualties, eventually evolved and learned to avoid it. Taking away pain was like removing the alarm bells in one's head. Doing so could only lead to two possible outcomes: committing the same mistakes over and over again or getting killed.

That was why to encourage people to remember, he started a segment on his show called "Love Letters to My First Love." Fortunately, it struck a chord among listeners and that was how he managed to retain his job despite his earlier lack of success. Ignoring the rows of soju, he pulled out a bottle of iced coffee, then proceeded to the aisle where they kept his favorite brand of instant noodles. Grabbing a cup, he hurried towards the counter and lined up. When it was his turn, he asked the cashier to give him an egg, paid for his purchases, and made his way out. To his relief, he didn't bump into anyone on his way up to the twentieth floor. That was one of the benefits of working late nights. Too much human interaction exhausted him.

Upon arriving at the station, he rushed to an empty meeting room, set down his jacket and backpack, and used the hot water dispenser inside to prepare his noodles. He left the lights off to avoid attracting unwanted attention. Anyway, the giant LED billboard outside gave enough illumination to let him see what he was doing. When he finally sat down waiting for his noodles to cook, Yoongi heaved out a long sigh and closed his eyes. Being a creature of habit, he found peace in the simple routine of coming to work early, leisurely having his dinner, then preparing for the show.

At exactly three minutes, the timer on his phone went off. Snapping his chopsticks apart, he peeled the cover away from the cup and started inhaling strand after strand of steaming noodles. Once in awhile, he'd stop to wave his hands over his open mouth, then he'd go on by raising the container to his lips to gulp down the soup. He was draining the last dredges when he sensed someone approaching from behind.

"Hello," the intruder said in a gratingly cheerful voice. "So this is where you've been hiding."

This woman!

Out of everyone in this building, of course, it was she who came to destroy his peace. She'd been the bane of his existence ever since his show producer quit three months ago and she was hired to take his place. Yoongi was ready to tell her to go away, but the spicy broth he was swallowing went down the wrong way. "Ya!" was all he could say, before a fit of coughing drowned out his response.

"Aigo!" She tutted and casually patted his back. "Did I surprise you?"

"Kim--" Cough. "Yeoreum---" Inhale. "--ssi!"

He drank a mouthful of coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his sweater-clad arm.

"Kim Yeoreum-ssi," he repeated, having recovered his ability to speak, "what do you want this time? I still have---" he checked his phone, "an hour and thirty minutes before the show."

Instead of being put off by his unwelcoming demeanor, Kim Yeoreum plopped on a chair next to him and propped an elbow on the table, cupping her face with one hand. The act drew his attention to the rainbow-colored lights rippling across her long, dark hair. It reminded him of the inky swathe of the Han River shimmering with various hues. The urge to take a photo simultaneously made his palms itch and his brows furrow.

"I know," she said, "but I wanted to run you through some last-minute changes."

"Couldn't you have waited until our usual pre-show briefing?"

"I could have, but I figured since you're already here, why wait?"

Grinning, she scooted closer, her unusual honey-colored eyes glowing in the dim lighting.

Yoongi knew it was his turn to say something but like an idiot, all he did was stare, once again lost in the translucent depths of her gaze. What was it about her that fascinated him so? It had been like this since they met. It was also why he'd been avoiding her. There was something about Kim Yeoreum that was so familiar and warm, he was naturally drawn. Yet, like the evolved moth, he'd been burned before. His instincts told him that whatever this was, it had the makings of a fatal attraction.

Digging his nails into his palms, Yoongi slid his chair back. Without skipping a beat, she inched forward, negating whatever distance he'd put between them. Yoongi had to bite back a frustrated groan.

"Min Yoongi-ssi, are you going to ignore me again?"

"Kim Yeoreum-ssi, don't you know how to respect other people's personal space?" he parried back.

She ducked her head. "Ah, sorry."

He thought he saw hurt flash through her face.

Did he go too far?

Before he could say anything, she glanced back up, now armed with a cheeky grin. He should have known better. The last few months have shown how relentless and determined she was. Every time he pushed her away, she came back even stronger. Something like that wasn't enough to faze her.

Slowly and deliberately, she moved a centimeter back. "Is this enough space for you?"

"Whatever." Yoongi sighed. He was too old to be playing these games. "Just tell me what you want to talk about so we can get this over and done with."

"Always so eager to get rid of me." She gave him a lopsided smile, then fiddled with the clipboard in her hand, flipping back and forth through sheets of paper. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about today's love letter segment. It's a bit different from the ones we usually receive, but I find it very interesting. Here---" she handed him a sheet, "take a look and let me know what you think."

Still reeling from her sudden shift from playful to professional, Yoongi took the paper she offered. With a frown, he examined it. To his surprise, instead of the lengthy recollection of love they always received, there was only one line.

"It wasn't that I'd died; it's just that in your world, I've simply ceased to exist."

As he spoke each word into existence, they sank one by one like rocks into his gut. He doubled over, the white sheet fluttering to the floor. It was as if someone had kicked him in the chest, then having fallen, stomped all over his helpless form. The bitter taste of bile defiled the lingering flavor of kimchi ramyeon in his mouth. Using all his might, he tamped down the sudden, intense urge to vomit.

"Yoongi-ssi, are you okay?"

"Huh?" He looked up and caught the concern in Kim Yeoreum's face before it blurred into something unrecognizable.

She gasped. "You--- you're trembling!"

When her shadowy figure inched closer, his mind screamed, Too close. You can't let her get too close.

In his rush to heed his mind's warning, the force he used to break free from her grip caused his chair to tumble. Before he knew it, he was falling, crashing onto the floor. Yoongi winced at the impact, a low moan slipping past his lips.

"Yoongi-ssi!"

Kim Yeoreum dropped next to him.

He rolled onto his back and attempted to push himself up, but a wave of nausea rendered his attempts futile. There was a noticeable lack of oxygen in the room. He couldn't breathe.

"Min Yoongi-ssi!"

A pale face, framed by a curtain of silk hovered above him. Something clicked at the dark recesses of his memory like a missing puzzle piece falling into place. He'd been in a similar situation once at an undefinable point in time. From the same vantage point, he beheld everything that was beautiful in the world. She smiled at him like his mere existence exceeded that of the moon and stars. In turn, he'd been giddy with joy—joy at having found the light to adorn his pitch-black nights.

Except that, who was that woman?

And when was that time?

There seemed to be a black hole in his mind that led to long-lost worlds.

"Yoongi-ya, please..."

For the first time, instead of using the honorific that clearly delegated their relationship as mere acquaintances, Kim Yeoreum addressed him with familiarity. But in his semi-delirious state, what struck him more was the fact that Kim Yeoreum, defined by her name as the bearer of golden summer, was crying. Tears dripped from her eyes onto his cheek. Just like the rain earlier, it was an unexpected scene. He sought to hold her hand.

She gripped him tightly."Hang in there. I'm calling an ambulance."

Yoongi could only move his head up and down.

"Hello?" he heard her say while he blinked in and out of consciousness.

The sound of her frantic voice became a weird lullaby, and just as her words merged into nonsensical sentences, another whispered into his ear.

"Yoongi-ya," said the universe. "Always remember. I'll wait for you. Under the bridge by the river, that one rare night when it rains in December."

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Author's Note: If you enjoyed this, please continue the rest of the story by going to the Magic Shop Short Story Compilation over at MeiSummer's profile.