Taekjoo's throat has been sore for a while now.
The night set early. It's winter time, the sun lays to sleep by the time the last verse of Баю-баюшки-баю, is sung. It is a lullaby he also got the displeasure of hearing very recently.
Given that he, as a child, never had been the one for sweet words to help him fall asleep in the arms of his mother.
It is also given, that a child grows up to not remembering all that great poetry of songs.
He was no different. Although, as he grew older, he sensed a form of familiarity towards them. Whenever hearing even a faint sound of singing in his mother language, his deep longing for something he never knew he missed out on continued.
Now, ever since passing the age of thirty,
the agent all but forgot about his desires, what he so longer for these past years.
In the cold woods, he wonders and wonders.
When will his throat stop hurting?
YOU ARE READING
"ZAIKA"
FanfictionThough it seems his past got swept under the rug, he could not be more wrong. What happens when the person who still haunts him to this day, finds his whereabouts? That one being the one and only Psikh Bogdanov.
