It was a Thursday night, around ten 'o'clock. Minho finished visiting some friends and family back home in South Korea and was getting ready to leave for China since tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

This was his last night in town; so he and his other friend who will be staying back in decided to go grab a couple of drinks since Minho insisted that he will drop his friend back home.

They drove to a local site in the village area where a small pub was situated. As they walked in they headed to the pub to order some cocktails and sat on the small stool situated beside the counter.

They talked about their life, enjoying the drinks they ordered.

Both the young men had been lucky; Minho was a successful lawyer, and his friend Changbin had succeeded in getting an ancient estate that had belonged to a distant friend of his; it was to view this new place that this Christmas gathering had been got together, and Minho was looking forward to visiting the place for his next holidays. Maybe by next year, he assumed.

Waving at his friend he steer out along the hard road, leaving the lights of the village behind him.

Suddenly his car entered a dark roadside where each side looked like it was surrounded by forests which made him confused.

It wasn't there before when he went to his home, now where did this come from?

Minho thought as he sped up a bit and suddenly out of nowhere a white transparent figure jumped in front of his car resulting from a sudden jerking--Minho's head hit on the steering wheel and his vision started forming black dots and within a second he fell unconscious.

A few minutes later, he opened his eyes, groaning. He blinked until his vision got cleared and slowly leaned back.

What happened? He thought and suddenly looked at the diesel indicator and groaned at his stupidity, seeing it was showing the red empty sign. He cursed at his bad luck, thinking about why it's happening today out of all day?

Fortunately, his car didn't break in between the road but rather on the very corner of the road, or else it would have been a big hassle to move it with his strength or call a motor vehicle technician which will take 1-2 hours because it's Christmas and it's heavily snowing.

Cursing on his luck, Minho opened the car dashboard and took out his wallet, a small pouch, and stuffed the necessary items like a small torch, candle, and lighter. He then leaned back in the backseat and took the winter coat with a muffler.

Without wasting another second he wore it and got out of the car taking the car keys and pouch. Minho looked around and groaned, not knowing where to go.

His route was to go straight but if he goes straight he doesn't know when he would see a street because he doesn't know when or where this forest will end.

To Minho, he has never crossed paths with this forest but he was sure that this wasn't the same route he was taking for all the years of his visit. Sighing he turned around, opposite to where he needed to go, and walked.

A few minutes later he could see the street he rode before but it seemed different? Way too different.

The street which had buildings covered in various neon lights before was now lighted with old-fashioned bulbs and the buildings aren't painted like before, in fact, you could see the bricks. The street lights-- scratch that--- the place itself looked straight out a history book.

As he walked further through the all-around changed street, he saw the people wearing old-fashioned dresses which made him curious. "Is it some kind of theme for Christmas Eve?" He mumbled as he never heard about it before and it was new to him.

He shrugged and tapped his now swollen forehead. He should first try to find a place to stay the night or else he would freeze to death in the weather.

He started walking, ignoring the weird glances thrown at him by the passerby.

Maybe I'm wearing something out of the theme? He thought, side glancing at the whispering women who were pointing at him. He surely looked out of the place due to the variation in the costumes.

He put his wallet inside his pants pockets and positioned his hands on the sweater pockets, letting the slightest bit of warmth spread through his hands.

As he walked forward admiring the old-fashioned decorations something caught his eyes halting his steps. He looked closely at the poster with his widened curious eyes.

It was a missing case poster, which was done by a delicate pencil drawing, touched with colour, of a boy's head with black curls adoring with a big flower and " Han Jisung " was written beneath; Minho's youthful fancy had been strangely enthralled by this kind of sketches. He loved art, especially this.

But the reason behind this art was a bit sickening because it was a missing case poster so he was a bit too self-conscious to ask the passerby who it was, but the style of the drawing had led him to speculate that it must be at least a few weeks old.

This, however, had not prevented the unusual haunting beauty of the pictured expression, but it's still a bit disappointing that it's a missing boy.

And now, as he stepped through the star-spangled dark, he was thinking, with a delightful thrill, that he might see again that enchanting drawing or even another portrait or some delightful memorial of the vanished boy.

He doesn't know why he even found it thrilling in the first place.

It was very cold; the deep mid-winter chill began to penetrate even through Minho's expensive coat.

He began to wonder how much further he had to walk to find a place to stay tonight and how he should find it; as his quick walking brought him to a place where no sign of human living was seen.

As the vicious clouds began to roll over the stars he regretted his impulse to walk and flashed the torch about to learn any place or person where he could ask his way.

Nothing appeared, and when the stars were completely shadowed by the clouds
and the harsh rising wind, he walked quickly, aimlessly on impulse thinking he would find one soon.

As he thought then with some impatience an upward glow of his torch falls over a blackboard. A direction was shown there and words were written in bold symbols,

WISHING INN

What an eye-catching name. Minho thought and walked quickly in the direction shown there.

What he didn't notice was that the words on the board changed into something devilish.

The board got covered in green ferns and climbers, and the bold symbols got crossed with red ink.

Minho was almost startled to find that he had almost stumbled into the brick house, but he was relieved that at least he found the place to stay tonight.

It was an old-fashioned inn, and the atmosphere around it rather looked miserable giving off an odd feeling to Minho. The door had a black Chinese evil spirits tiger head statue valve ring door knocker which he took and knocked.

He knocked on the door again after seeing no one responding and the door opened and an obnoxious-looking man came out. Minho somewhat felt creepy and had chills going down his spine seeing how the inside looked dimly dark.

Mustering up his courage, Minho asked politely, "Is it open tonight?"

"No," Replied the man sullenly, " We made this inn in a way no stranger could find it in the dark."

"But don't you think I should stay here tonight on a spine-chilling night?" Asked Minho aggravated. "If not then can you help me out with finding one? Or send someone to guide me? I will make extra payments."

"No," replied the innkeeper staring straight at Minho's angry glance with blank eyes.

Minho looked inside the inn, and then at the person.

The southern wind started blowing quickly, showing the upcoming dangerous chilling climate with a loud announcement. Minho shuddered to feel the chill and looked at the tall man in front of him with a pleading look.

"Can you give me some food and a bed? Anywhere is fine," Even a floor will look inviting in this situation. Minho wanted to say, but he didn't voice it out.

"Come inside," Was the man's response, making Minho surprised.

The blank-faced man moved away from the door and Minho immediately invited himself in, almost immediately. He felt like purring in satisfaction after getting inside.

He looked ahead and all he saw was a small round table and two chairs kept near the fireplace-- a small bookshelf attached to the wall-- the light from the fire gave away a cosy feeling but for whatever reasons Minho didn't feel that much welcomed here, but does he have any choice than stay there?

"You have not many visitors here?" Minho asked," This Inn took a long way from the countryside."

"The place is lonely," Was the reply. "You can sit on the chair provided there," The taller explained, pointing out the chairs provided there," while the space gets ready?"

Minho looked at the taller person happily," Oh! You are so generous to provide a room!" He exclaimed and watched the man leaving the place and vanishing into the path covered in darkness.

"Woh! What type of conjuring movie is this?" He exclaimed and looked around the room with an excited glint. Maybe because he got a room? Or maybe from an unknown reason that he doesn't even know.

The light from the fire made it easier for him to notice the walls which were dark and dirty, a few oil paintings and a case of lead-coloured bullhead hung above the shelf, and a small bulb flickered under it.

He looked at it with furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes, trying to read the words written under it, but the language looked unfamiliar to him.

"What the heck is written?"

"Life, prosperity, death, and destruction-- that's what's written there," Minho looks back, startled by the cold voice. He forced himself to calm down after seeing it was none other than the previous person-- wait...

"Oh, you are back! I forgot to ask you but where am I now?" The man didn't say anything," I mean... I know we are in Korea, but I was asking which side of Korea I am staying in now?"

"It's Hanseong." Minho made a sound of approval.

What the fuck is that place? Minho thought.

"We are near the railroad," The taller continued making Minho chuckle awkwardly.

"Wow!" Minho exclaimed, ignoring the old way of mentioning the railway, "I never thought there would be a railway near this out-of-the-way place."

"Your space is ready, follow me." The taller said, turning around.

"Are you the landlord?" Minho asked, trailing behind.

"Yes," replied the queer-looking taller, "the place is mine." Minho nodded, and their pace started matching with each other, which made the younger one notice the other's look.

Minho looked at him; he wore a dirty floral-patterned dressing-gown tied tightly around his lean figure, his long hair-- was tied up, leaving some behind-- like we see in the historical movies, his face too pale, he looked both dejected and repellent. Minho looked away, an odd feeling settling down in his pit.

"You have a curious name for the place," Minho struck up a conversation feeling not so good about the atmosphere, "Wishing Inn."

The speaker hummed, "Our place was famous for so many things but..." The talker looked down at the younger with his blank eyes making Minho look away, "there is a rumour about the place," replied the owner with a sharp glance.

"It is said that those who find this place on Christmas Eve and take a room here will get one of their wishes granted." The taller one said, opening Minho's room for today.

"Wow!" Minho exclaimed, amazed by the rumour and the room, he looked at the taller "So, I'm the first one to reach here today!" He explained, happily entering the room.

"No," Said the owner coldly, he then shuffled to the door, paused there, and glanced back, "There are other travellers here," he replied, "a man-- a young man-- he likes walking around this area and where the fireplace is, to warm himself since the lamp on his room don't work."

Minho nodded, pointing out "Well, can you bring me some food? I thought about eating at the restaurant on my way, but my car broke."

"Car?" The taller asked quietly.

"Yes, car. I came here to visit my family a few days back and today I planned to go back to China for work, but as you can see here I am." Minho said, glancing at the pale man who looked at him without saying anything.

"Okay," that's all the taller said before leaving the room.

Closing the doors, Minho pulled off his gloves and busied himself warming his hands by rubbing them against each other. He looked for the room heater and sighed seeing a lamp there. "Who the heck uses this now?" He exclaimed trying to lighten the gasoline lamp, sighing in relief when it produced enough light. He tried to increase the fire in it but all went in vain when it diminished.

"Shit!" He exclaimed as cold darkness engulfed the dreary room. Feeling terrified he took out his phone and switched on the flashlights and sighed taking deep breaths.

"Great! Just fucking great! Now, I've to find the fireplace at this hell hole off the great Wishing Inn! Just kill me already!" Minho exclaimed, frustratingly pulling his hair.

Not having any more courage to adjust to the atmosphere, he got out of the room and started walking through what seemed like a hall.

He flashed his phone lights around and with a shocked face, he passed the hall, watching all the beautiful paintings arranged magnificently.

Reaching the fireplace, he sighed, relieved. He sat down on one of the small chairs which looked like they were made from carved wood. It's odd to find this kind of chair nowadays but he shrugged too tired and worn out to even think about it.

He wondered if the young man upstairs was coming down to warm himself. He adjusted himself onto the chair and looked at the cracked ceiling in wonder.

He just foolishly agreed with the pale taller's fictional and stupid story because the taller one already looked a bit scary and his outright mocked and rejection of the unreal tale will only make the man scarier than he was.

Geez, the taller in fact won't even hesitate to kick him out and where would he go on this chilling depressed night?

And it's Christmas Eve too, where all travel and conveniences would be halted. Not that too, it's almost near midnight and people must be busy at their homes, getting cosy and cheery.

The place was yet again awfully silent and Minho began to think that the creepy taller pulled his leg by saying that there was another traveller. Who would stay mute in such an icy, grim bedroom?

Minho began to feel sleepy. He didn't want to sleep with an empty stomach and he looked at the dark hall with a sigh. He tapped on the arm of the chair in boredom, his mind went idly over the quiet man roaming upstairs, and then he dreamily thought about the tale of the wish-granting on Christmas Eve.

Now, what could my wish be? thought Minho, drowsily. "I have to think of something quite fantastical and foolish? I wish to see, to win, to love, Han Jisung!"

As he whispered the name, it seemed to him that a deeper chill took possession of the room that the dreary fire could not warm or the dreary lamp light; he turned round sharply, as if in apprehension.

The hall suddenly started having a small light coming, though he had heard no sound, he saw a figure coming closer to him.

The breath of icy air was more penetrating now and Minho shivered as he rose.

"Are you the man who is staying upstairs?" He asked but the figure didn't say anything, making him gulp.

"You came to get some warmth, right?" he asked looking at the fireplace, "Though I am afraid it does not give out any heat." He said honestly, feeling the small hair on his skin stand up with goosebumps spreading on his body.

The figure from the shadows of the passage came into the light; it was Han Jisung as he had seen him in the delicate sketch that he saw on the poster a few hours ago.

Here was every feature on which his boy's impulse had so fondly lived in. The straight nose, the level brows, the dark hazel eyes, the slender neck and shoulders, the big nameless flower, and the clinging hanbok of fine floating muslin; despite the attire and the bitterness of the season he looked as fresh and blooming as if he wandered in a shadowed summer garden.

He looked at Minho with a wilful yet begging expression that oh so well became complementary to the portrait Minho saw on the halls.

"He has not come," Jisung said, "they have not come-but you will, mister, help me to find him?"

He bent towards him, clasping his hands, and a queer perfume, like the last breath of dying flowers, flowed to Minho.

"Who am I to find?" Minho stammered. "Are you Han Jisung?"

"Yes, I am that unfortunate man. And I am here to meet my lover. If he does not come they will take me back-" The man paused and looked at Minho in panic.

"I mean she! Yes, she. It's a slip of tongue-"

"Hey hey, calm down," Minho exclaimed standing up, holding Jisung's shoulders he made the latter sit in the opposite chair.

"You don't have to worry about me judging you. I'm not homophobic," Minho said, patting the smaller's shoulder.

The other looked up with shock and desperation, "You aren't disgusted?" Minho chuckled.

"Why should I? You, loving the same gender doesn't make you any less of a human. Love is love, that's all that matters."

Jisung looked down, his shoulders slumped, "Wish everyone was like you." He stared straight at Minho's eyes,

"Can I tell you my story? Will you hear it?" Minho nodded, sitting opposite where Jisung was.

Jisung didn't said anything for a while and Minho waited patiently,

"I ran away from my family when I came to know that they arranged my marriage with a young maiden from the North. My lover is from a poor family and my parents don't like me liking someone from a poor family and that too from the same gender,"

Minho scoffed, "No offence but your parents are still homophobic even though it's already the 21st century, and people are accepting this all," Jisung looked up at the exclaim.

"21st century?" Minho nods, "A long way to go," The young man said, sighing.

"How about you make a wish!" Minho suddenly exclaimed, ignoring what the latter said a second ago. "This Inn is famous for granting wishes on Christmas Eve, at first I thought it was mere fiction but... I wished to see you and you came." Jisung stood up, walking towards him with a sad limpid gaze and Minho shuddered.

"I...I saw your picture on a poster which showed you are missing," He continued.

Jisung didn't say anything and turned towards the door.

"Will you not help me find my lover?" He asked, holding Minho's wrist and pulling him.

Minho, as if hypnotised by his pleas, followed him to the door, wearing his coat on the way, out into the black passage, and then into the sand road, the young man wandering before him like a glinting white.

Snow and wind had vanished and the night was one of close to darkness. No moonlight was seen, just a chilling silence.

"See, my carriage is waiting!" cried Jisung. "Will you not enter and help me find my lover?" Minho looked at the odd vehicle in disbelief. How come a vehicle that wasn't used now was here!?

Nonetheless, Minho thought maybe he can also go to nearby taxi stations and grab a cab to Seoul or perhaps find a good hotel rather than the creepy one he stayed in now.

"Drop me at a nearby store, that will be helpful for me," He said as he stepped after the slight figure of Jisung into the cavernous interior of the old-fashioned barouche.

The carriage was swinging forward now into the pitchy night, no ray of light penetrated the darkness where Minho sat on the chill seat, and where his companion was there was only the faintest blur of light where his white garments showed through the inky blackness.

Suddenly he felt cold hands grabbing his hands and the hands were none other than Jisung's.

"Help me to find my lover!" came his voice in continued anguish.

"Where is he and how can I help you?" Questioned Minho, wildly trying to loosen the strong grip, " and how can we find him? And where are you driving in this haste?"

The carriage was bumping here and there making Minho feel nausea from how his whole body was shaking with force. He looked out of the window still trying to loosen the grip around his wrist. All he saw was white ghostly smoke and trees with darkness.

"Where are we?" He cried, terrified when he felt the grip loosening. "Where are we going?" And then his senses started overpowering the desire to see his companion, and, like a lightning enthusiasm from another world, he thought of the lighter lying in his overcoat pocket.

"Jisung!" he cried, as he fumbled with it,

" Han Jisung!" As he snapped on the powerful ray of light he heard a painful moan, "Oh help me find my lover!" faded in his ear.

Without further delay he lightened the lighter and showed an empty carriage; he saw framed leather, warm velvet, weather-stained glass, but nothing else; he was alone in the ancient barouche.

Feeling utterly terrorised, he punched at the door, his panicked beating made it open unexpectedly and he was thrown violently into the darkness.

Again before him flashed the figure of Han Jisung --- by a kind of red and white glow encircling him-- he could see him moving rapidly and the sound of the younger's death song fell sadly on his ear.

Minho got up frantically, stumbling over hillocks and falling against stones.

"See, I have found him," Jisung wept, and stopped; Minho reached and was standing almost beside him; he could see Jisung standing, smiling widely as in the portrait sketch, fresh and merry and gay.

"Here we are," Jisung added in a small whisper and suddenly his head turned towards Minho, who moved away after hearing a loud crack. A bone or two cracking sounds. "Come, will you not see him, my dear charm?"

Minho hastily moved forward; he stumbled on the coat again and found his phone where he grasped it in his hand, and without much thought, he turned on the flashlight.

A flood of white light spread in front of him, there was no man, no carriage, only a heavy stone with a railing around it and frail snow outlining the inscription:

Rest in peace

Han Jisung and Kim Seung Min, 1942

Minho stumbled back, widely flashing the torch around the graves, the stones were graves; he was in a large churchyard and the snow was falling noiselessly into the dark and silence.

He suddenly heard some crying voices and screams for help. A loud inhume sound and the cold wind started moving quickly making his head hurt.

The creepy sounds increased their octaves making him feel like his ears would bleed from the sounds.

With a shudder of intense horror, Minho fumbled his way away from the graveyard. He saw a church and ran fastly towards the church; as he reached the porch he saw a light, heard voices, and from the chaos of movement and darkness he heard a powerful voice speak to him.

"Oh hello, young man. How can I help you?" He saw a man clad in white church clothing coming at him precipitously, "Are you okay? You look terrified by something,"

"It's nothing," Minho said, unable to say what he encountered now. The man, as if he knew what happened, chuckled.

"Then why did you creep into the church like a ghost?"

"I felt like one," replied Minho sitting on the wooden bench, with a shallow breath" What a terrible day."

"Well, it is just the one night in the year you will encounter such a climate, but let me ask you again how you got so far out of your way, and why were you in such a state?" Minho didn't say anything and just stayed mute.

"Oh, by the way, I'm Christopher Bahng, but Chan in short. " Chan said, smiling widely.

"Minho," Minho said, seeing the bright smile he couldn't help but give out a smile.

Chan sat on one of the benches, opposite Minho, and leaned forward with wide eyes, "So..."

"I don't know," replied Minho sheepishly. "I've been overworking lately, my car broke on my way to the airport---the dark cold night and no food made me come here, I guess." He then added, abruptly, "Is there a place here called Wishing Inn?"

Chan glanced at him for a few minutes and shook his head, "Used to be," It made Minho shocked. So the creepy man, the old building, what was it then!?

"Used to be?" Minho asked again to confirm his doubt and got terrified when Chan nodded his head yes.

"If I remember correctly it was pulled down about hundred or more years ago." Chan exclaimed," Why?"

"Oh, I heard about it from my friend," Said Minho.

"Seems like your friend is interested in tales," Chan smiled, "My friend's great-great-grandfather, Hwang Hyunjin was the owner of that Inn. Sadly, the Inn was pulled down after the death of his brother, Jisung."

"What happened?" Minho frantically asked, feeling it was difficult to grasp all the information. Jisung was dead? Then who did he see a few minutes ago?

"On Christmas Eve, the younger brother went to meet his lover. It was said that he loved a boy and you know at that time same-sex relationships were frowned upon and are often considered abnormal," Chan rolled his eyes,

"So Jisung chose that spot because his brother Hwang Jeongin and Hwang YongBok told Jisung that they will help him to run away from there. However the three brothers hated him just because he was their father's illegitimate son. Also, the Inn had a tale which said that a wish will be granted."

"Then?"

"The poor boy wished that he might never be separated from his lover, but his lover was found by his brothers, Yong Bok and Jeongin on his way to the Inn and killed in a clash. His name was said to be Kim Seungmin, a farmer. When Jisung heard about this, that poor soul burnt himself inside the room of the Inn and died with a broken heart and then his family complied enough to put him in his lover's grave, so his wish came true after all."

Minho didn't say anything, he looked at the floor with a frozen mind. He felt dizzy.

"He isn't a myth," Continued Chan," You can still see the grave with the two names on it. It was said that the boy was an eternal beauty. Unlucky that I didn't get the chance to see him," Chan chuckled to lighten up the mood.

"Anyways, for the Wishing Inn..."

"Chan hyung?" Both the men turned their heads toward the deep voice and to Minho's utter horror it was...

"Jisung?" The boy, Jisung, looked at Minho confusedly.

"Do I know you?" He asked, moving closer to Chan who chuckled,

"Maybe he just guessed your name from the story of your ancestors," Jisung looked at Chan in wonder, "Wishing Inn,"

"Ah, I see," Jisung exclaimed and showed his hand for a handshake.

Hesitantly, Minho shook hands with Jisung, and warmness started spreading on his body, unlike the spooky feeling he got from the previous 'Jisung.'

"So this is my beautiful friend Han Jisung. His parents thought to give him the same name as the boy in the story,"

Looks like him too. Minho thought of his wish and his heart thrilled as he looked into the boy's hazel eyes,

"To meet, to love, to win, Han Jisung."

____________

Thanks for reading everyone! If you see any comments saying Tharn and Type that's okay since I wrote the one-shot originally in TharnType before changing it to MinSung.