- fourteen years ago -

The man shifted on the uncomfortable outworn couch, tapping his foot impatiently. Even though he had just arrived, he was already eager to leave. This oppressive atmosphere he had sunk in was doing nothing else except depress him.

Lee Jiho didn’t like to be kept waiting. It was usually the other way around.

He let his eyes wander the room, pictures of children smiling were sprawled on each wall, depicting what seemed to be happy, carefree moments. The letters written under each frame, however, made his gut tie in anxious knots.

First Light Orphanage

“Are you entirely positive that he’s here?” he stretched his arms above his head lazily, glancing over at the older lady leaning against the window frame. She stood tall and slim, radiating a certain air of authority, full dark eyes observing the children running around the playground.

Her gaze dropped to the dull gray carpet covering the floor before shifting blindly to Jiho. “I already told you. This is where the Light took me. He has to be in here somewhere.”

Jiho’s eyes narrowed to thin slits as he gazed at the woman suspiciously. He knew better than to question his mother’s extrasensory perception, Lee Adara was the Clairvoyant after all.

Still, he wasn’t entirely convinced that this god-forsaken hellhole for abandoned children would be where they’d find the Protector.

“How are we even going to know that it’s him?” he questioned, folding his arms against his chest, his voice colored with uneasiness. “There are at least eighty, or ninety kids here. All we know is that we’re searching for a boy, so at least that cuts the number in half, but still. It could be any one of them.”

Jiho was starting to grow anxious. If his mother’s vision turned out to be wrong, they would have gone all the way there in vain. For the first time in years, they had a lead on the Protector’s identity. Just when they were starting to think they’d never find him.

Adara’s chest deflated in a long sigh, the morning light reflecting off her wrinkled but still beautiful face. “He’s supposed to be around the same age as her, perhaps a year or two older. And I’ll be able to sense his aura when I see him.”

“But how?” Jiho was still doubtful, throwing a glance at the underfed, frail children playing in the yard. “He’s just a little boy now.”

He wondered how did one even become a Protector. Was he born this way, like Jiho himself was born with his abilities?

Would this mysterious boy grow into the man that Fate had chosen him to be? Would he possess the power and strength to keep Aera safe? To risk his life for her?

To be willing to die for her?

Adara shuffled to the desk in the middle of the room, head hanging low and fingers pinching the root of her nose, the many rings wrapped around each of them glowing under the sunlight. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she paused for a while and furrowed her brows, as if she was debating internally whether to say something or not.

“Jiho, I had another vision I didn’t tell you about,” she admitted finally, a frown tugging at her mouth as her fingers anxiously fiddled with the pearl necklace hanging from her neck.

“What is it, mother?”

“I’m not sure whether it was an actual vision rather than… a prophecy.” She whispered the last word in a hushed voice, tinged with alarm.

“No,” Jiho exclaimed softly, his mouth popping open in disbelief. “A prophecy?”

“This boy we’re looking for, I don’t think he’s just going to be our little girl’s Protector when she unlocks her true powers. I saw something… I saw the Red thread connecting them.”

Jiho was astonished. “You mean he’s…” he trailed off, pressing a palm against his forehead.

Adara gave a brisk nod. “I couldn’t believe it at first, too. Something like this occurs so rarely, once every ten or twenty years. I myself have never seen it with my own eyes. But my senses have never lied to me until now.

“He’s her Destined One. Their souls will recognize each other. It may not be right away, it may be when they both come of age where they’d be receptive of this connection, when their Powers could be finally unleashed. Until then, their bond will deepen, brewing until it becomes unbreakable. They are written in the stars, as some may call it.”

“So they’re going to fall in love?”

“They’ll feel a strange, inexplicable sense of recognition towards each other, finding solace in one another. He’ll be there to balance the darker sides of her. You’re perfectly aware that darkness runs in our family’s blood, more or less consuming some of us. He’ll heal her wounds, and she’ll heal his.”

“Do you mean to tell me that my daughter won’t be able to make her own choice about who’s going to be her significant other? That Fate has already chosen for her?” Jiho said through gritted teeth. The idea angered him. Aera was still a little girl, too fragile to carry her own backpack to school. He couldn’t possibly imagine what kind of a woman she’d grow into.

And sadly, he knew it wasn’t meant for him to see it with his own eyes.

“She won’t know that it’s not her who makes that choice,” Adara explained. “His every atom will be pulling her in. She’ll love him and he’ll love her back, deeply. If someone as much as tries to stand in between them, he’d rather unleash hell on them than let them keep him away from her. He’ll harm for her, and kill for her.

“She’ll need him in her life, Jiho. Don’t pull the jealous dad card. You know things have been beyond our control for a long time, and we won’t be here forever to help her.”

A thick silence engulfed them as Jiho stared sightlessly at the wall in front of him. Somehow, he had already come to terms with the fact that his little girl was going to suffer the same fate as him. This was just one of the privileges that came with being born into the Lee family. It was in her blood, and it was bound to happen.

But to know that she wouldn’t be able to choose her own partner, that she would be robbed of this right… it caused a sharp sting to pierce through his heart that was overflowing with father’s love.

Perhaps his mother was right, perhaps it was better if Aera didn’t know that her heart’s desire had already been decided for her. By someone else. Someone cruel.

Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way. But he wasn’t going to be sure about how he felt about this until he had laid eyes on the boy that was supposed to be his daughter’s twin soul.

The sound of the door being yanked open caught his attention, his eyes snapping at the short, chubby man who entered the room.

“Sorry, sorry so much for making you wait,” the newcomer started apologizing, grunting and panting as he made his way to the desk, the buttons of his suit straining so much against his belly that it looked like they were about to pop off any second now. “I’m Choi Wooyoung, the Director of First Light Orphanage,” he reached his arm out for a handshake, bowing his head slightly.

“Lee Jiho,” Jiho introduced himself, fighting back the urge to scrunch his nose once he took Mr. Choi’s sweaty palm in his. “This is my mother, Lee Adara.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Lee,” Mr. Choi bowed a little bit too low, obviously in awe of the stern and commanding air Adara had assumed, still peculiarly striking despite her age.

She simply hummed, narrowed eyes scanning Mr. Choi’s form and making him sweat even more profusely under her scrutiny.

“So, tell me what I can do for you. Are you looking to adopt?” the Director took a seat behind his desk, the dense moustache just above his upper lip wiggled as he spoke.

“Something like that,” Jiho replied vaguely, throwing a quizzical look at his mother.

“We’re looking for a boy, around the age of ten or eleven,” Adara declared, interlocking her fingers in her lap and staring at Mr. Choi calmly.

“That’s not exactly specific,” Mr. Choi chuckled, letting out a very loud snort as he did so. “We’re currently taking care of eighty kids in total, we’re probably one of the biggest orphanages in the area,” he boasted, obviously taking pride in his statement as his gaze drifted towards the pictures hanging from the wall.

Jiho glanced over at his mother, uneasiness evident in his posture as he boggled his eyes at her, using the opportunity while the Director wasn’t looking at them. How is this even going to work he wanted to ask her, hoping she’d stay true to her usual resourceful self and think of some plan. He was so lost on how they were even going to explain to this clueless man what their intentions were.

Adara traced Mr. Choi’s gaze before casting over one particular picture. Her face hardened and her eyes remained fixated on one spot, a sign that her senses were telling her something right now.

“This one,” she reached a shaky finger and pointed at the photo. “The little boy on the left.”

Mr. Choi knit his brows together a bit. “The blond one?”

“Is it him?” Jiho breathed out, his eyes darting to and fro his mother and the photo hanging from the wall.

She gave a firm nod, white knuckled fingers gripping on the hem of her shirt inadvertently.

“We want to meet him,” Jiho spoke quickly, turning to Mr. Choi.

“Well,” the Director sighed heavily, obviously troubled by something as a dark shadow cast over his face. “I’m not allowed to tell you this, but he’s kind of… problematic.”

“How so?” Adara questioned promptly.

“He’s been exhibiting violent behavior on a couple of occasions and lashes out frequently,” Mr. Choi removed his glasses and started rubbing them as he carried on talking. “But there’s no room for judgement here. This is what being abandoned actually does to anyone, really. These children here, they’re traumatized. Abandonment at such a young age, it really makes them cling to the smallest whisper of love only for them to be disappointed again. And that’s when the emotional bleeding starts, and never really stops until the soul ceases yearning for love and begins to reject it instead.

These are lonely, starved of warmth human souls. We like to make that clear to anyone who comes here and intends to take care of one of them.”

“Listen, Mr. Choi,” Adara began, leaning in closer and placing her hands over the desk, the rings on her fingers clacking with the movement. “We know you’re no ordinary orphanage. You’re offering shelter for special children with special abilities. You’ve been doing it for years. And there’s no point in hiding it anymore, because we’re no ordinary people either and I know you can sense it. You’re the same as us.”

Mr. Choi looked startled, pressing a handkerchief to his forehead and wiping away his sweat. “Who- who told you that?” he stammered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Adara waved her hand in a dismissive manner, making it obvious she wouldn’t elaborate with more details. “We need to meet that boy. We have enough evidence to think that he might be a Protector.”

The Director’s eyes snapped so wide that they practically took over his entire face. “A Protector, you say?” he mumbled. “We haven’t stumbled upon a Protector in years…”

“The Protector of my dear granddaughter whom I love more than anything in the world,” Adara verified. “But you see, I need to see him in order to determine if he’s the one. I need to sense his aura in person. If my prediction ends up being true, then we’re going to need to put him in one of your training programs. So if it’s okay with you, can you bring us to him?” she asked it as a question, but it was clear from the tone of her voice that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I see,” Mr. Choi nodded slowly and cleared his throat before reaching for the phone on his desk and dialing a number. “Someone bring Jimin to my office right now.” he ordered sternly, looking more serious now.

A tense silence fell over the entire room as they waited. No one dared to say another word, the only sound was the tapping of the Director’s fingers against the wooden surface of the desk.

It wasn’t long until the door flung open and a middle-aged woman entered, followed by a young boy, his disheveled hair a nest of fluffed up hair and his clothes baggy and at least two sizes bigger than his frame, covered in filth and dirt.

He stood still at the door, uncertain of whether the people in that room were his friends or foes.

“Jimin, come,” Mr. Choi ushered him but the boy just stared at him.

“No,” he shot back darkly, immediately taking a step back and glaring at the people in the room. “I want to keep playing with Taehyungie.”

“You’ll play with him later. Now come forward, I want you to meet someone.” the Director cooed, throwing a glance at Jiho. “I told you he was difficult,” he whispered quietly.

“When am I going to see my grandma and Nana?” Jimin narrowed his eyes at him, stubbornly ignoring his question.

Mr. Choi’s features suddenly softened, his eyes glistening. “Later, I promise you. Now please, come,” he smiled brightly, but Jiho couldn’t help but notice the sadness swimming in the Director’s eyes.

Everyone stood up and Mr. Choi leaned over to whisper in Jiho’s ear so quietly that he almost heard him.

“Poor boy, he still thinks his grandmother and his sister are alive.”

Jimin took a cautious step forward, his eyebrows knit together in a tight frown. Clearly he was still suspicious. A small gasp escaped his lips as they trembled, his face suddenly shifted to one drowning in sorrow.

Jiho slightly leaned forward so that his eyes were on the same level as Jimin’s.

“Hey, buddy,” he beamed. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“No one ever says that to me,” Jimin grumbled in a small voice. “No one calls me nice.”

“Really? That’s what people usually say when they want to become friends with someone.”

“You want to be my friend? But you’re an adult,” Jimin pursed his lips, scrunching his freckled nose a little bit.

“Children and adults can be friends, too. Do you prefer to be friends with someone your age, then?” Jiho smiled brightly as a dull ache tugged at his heart. This boy, he looked so weak and fragile. Could he really be the one they had been looking for?

“Yes,” Jimin nodded, a spark of enthusiasm flashed in his deep ebony orbs. “Yes, I want to have a friend.”

“Then I think you’d be happy to meet my daughter. Her name is Aera.”