17 DAYS TO GO | KWON SOONYOUNG

45

Kang Hana

Jiyoon tugged at my arm, urgency in every step as she guided me away from the clearing, away from Havoc’s suffocating presence. But behind us, chaos ignited.

A violent wind tore through the void.

Death and Havoc clashed.

I looked back.

Light and shadow collided, a storm of piercing silver and inky blackness erupting between the two brothers. Havoc laughed—manic, wild—as he lunged at Death, their forms blurring and flickering through time itself.

"GO!" Death's voice thundered over the roaring wind.

Jiyoon yanked me again. "We have to move!"

We sprinted, slipping between crumbling arches and shifting corridors of fog and fractured memories. The realm trembled—shattered pieces of pasts not quite mine scattering around us.

Finally, we broke through into a quiet, cold stretch of void—empty, still. Only our ragged breaths filled the silence.

Jiyoon collapsed to her knees, gripping her sides. I fell beside her, trembling.

"I—" I tried, but words failed me.

My chest was tight. Everything ached.

But the silence didn’t last.

Darkness dripped from the edges of the void like blood in water.

Then—

A whisper. No... a scream in disguise.

"Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we?"

Havoc’s voice coiled into my mind, even from afar.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy again. I gripped my head as black vines burst from the ground, wrapping around my limbs.

"No!" Jiyoon cried, lunging toward me, but something—someone—pulled her back.

I was yanked away from her into darkness.

And I fell.

Right into my memories.

The moment the shadows swallowed me whole, I knew I was no longer in the Between.

The air was thicker here—colder, heavier. It clung to my skin like wet fabric, making it hard to breathe. The ground beneath my feet was unstable, shifting with each step like I was walking on fragments of memory stitched together by fear.

"Jiyoon?" I called out, but my voice sounded warped, as if underwater. It echoed endlessly, unanswered.

I turned around—and froze.

I was in our school hallway.

But it wasn’t right.

The walls bled into themselves, colors dripping and reforming like oil on water. Lockers opened and slammed shut on their own. The sound of laughter and sobbing rang from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

A red locker creaked open.

Inside wasn’t metal or books—there was a photograph.

Me and Soonyoung.

From a few weeks ago. Smiling, arms slung over each other. A candid moment captured in warmth.

But as I stared, our smiles began to stretch unnaturally. The photo contorted, our faces melting into sadness. My image faded, and Soonyoung's smile turned vacant.

Then the photo burst into flames.

“No!” I reached for it, but the fire was gone—like it had never existed.