Dim lights. Low chatter. The faint yet constant whiff of alcohol.
This time of year, the bar is especially packed, with patrons seeking reprieve from the festivities, perhaps dealing with their own, even bigger issues, or just looking for a good time. Possibly all of the above. The enclosed pub is filled with colours ranging from the bright and eccentric to the dark and monotonous, and everything in between. A group of loud chuckles here, the clink of a glass there.
The one thing they all have in common, however, is that they all avoid the table in the corner. For no reason, too; it's not like anyone's sitting there.
Not to them, at least.
For sitting there, unnoticed, is a certain old woman, whose experience far surpasses even the oldest living person in the establishment. She drinks nothing, but simply watches the masses as they go about their evening, moods varying wildly.
She has seen decades upon decades pass, centuries upon centuries pass, and the advancements made by humanity never cease to impress even an omniscient being such as herself. More than the touch screens and automated processes within the bar, though, she notes with whimsy how similar human behaviour remains despite these changes. To her, there isn't much difference between the drunk fellow across the room, swinging his glass and spilling his drink on his companions, and a Goryeo artisan helping himself to one too many ewers of liquor.
To say that every being present in the room took no notice of the grey-haired lady would not be the full truth. There is one. A man, a hulking figure, clad in black, draping robes, makes his way across the pub, similarly unnoticed by the lively patrons.
As he approaches her table, the old woman looks up and offers him a warm smile, one of camaraderie. For the both of them have worked closely, in a sense, for aeons. Or rather, he worked under her, if such human concepts were to be applied to beings of such unfathomable power and age.
As the grim-looking man pulls a chair next to the old woman, he lets out a grunt of acknowledgement. "Not a place I would expect you to enjoy being present in."
The woman's calm smile is unwavering. "I trust the soul has departed well."
Large hands held together on the glossy table, the man shrugs. "You confound me with such surface pleasantries, Mago."
The question is clear, and she knows it. There's a reason she's here, and he knows it. But he knows not what it is.
Not needing words to understand this, the woman points over to the main bar in the centre of the room. The man's grim gaze follows her finger.
Sitting at the bar are two women. The deity knows their names, just as she knows the names of everyone else in the room. Kim Jiyoung, a woman who usually bears a confident aura, which seems to be all but absent in this moment. And her best friend of 10 years, Son Seunghee, a carefree soul who makes up for in boisterousness what she lacks in height.
"I'm telling you, you got this, J!! Get your head out of the ground and just be yourself!" It's clear Seunghee has already had at least a few drinks.
"I..." Jiyoung rubs her arm. "I know I said yes and all, but I don't know how I feel about this double-slash-blind date thing."
"Ughhh, come on~ This again?" Seunghee's cheek is squished by the fist she rests her head on. "You heard what the fortune teller said. A prince fell head over heels for you at first sight in your past life. There's no way you're as unlovable as you think you are."
The reminder earns a scoff from the taller woman. "Please. It's 2122. Twenty. Second. Century. You really believe that bull? And besides, that's not what I'm worried about."
YOU ARE READING
The Next Life (다음 생에 만날래)
Fanfiction"You found me once, you can find me again." - Jisoo x Male Reader - Jang Y/N never had much to call his own in life, but two things: his best friend Wendy, and his ability to see ghosts. When both of those things combine, and he ends up tagging alon...
