𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛 / 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔

S3 ch 88

The city moved around Rafayel like water slipping past a drowning man.

Skyscrapers towered above, indifferent. Laughter echoed in the distance. Children played, birds chirped, the sun touched the trees with gold—but none of it reached him. Not really.

Five years had passed since Jiwon vanished without a word.
Five years since Rafayel’s world cracked open and bled.
And still, he searched.

He’d walked this park so many times he could trace every tree with his eyes closed. He wasn’t even sure why he came anymore. Maybe to torture himself. Maybe to hope.

Then came the bump.

A little girl with dark, round eyes collided with his leg, nearly falling backward. Her small hands clutched his coat instinctively.

“I’m sorry, mister,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t find my papa. Can you help us?”

Behind her stood a toddler with the same big eyes and pouty mouth, gripping a stuffed bunny like it was his whole world.

Rafayel stared. His pulse quickened.

“What’s your name?” he asked, voice softer than he’d meant it to be.

“Jina,” she answered brightly. “And my brother is Elijah. He’s three.”

Five years.

The math hit him like a blow to the chest. Five years since Jiwon disappeared. This girl… she was five. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.

He picked up Elijah gently, holding Jina’s hand as they began walking.

They searched the park. Rafayel asked questions. Jina answered, pointing here and there, her tiny voice full of trust. He tried to focus, but the storm in his chest was growing louder.

Then—

“There! That’s Papa’s best friend!”

Rafayel followed her finger.

He saw a man jogging across the grass, scanning the crowd.

And then—him.

Behind the man. A second figure emerged.

Hooded. Lean. Familiar.

Rafayel stopped breathing.

It was him.

Jiwon.

Older. Paler. Skinnier. But unmistakable.

Time split open. The noise of the park vanished. Rafayel’s heart thudded in his ears.

Jiwon froze too.

Their eyes met.

Jiwon’s lips parted, stunned. The color drained from his face. His fingers curled at his sides, trembling.

“R… Rafayel?” he managed to whisper, voice cracking.

But Rafayel didn’t respond. His legs moved before his brain did—backing away, turning.

His chest was too tight to breathe. Too full to speak. The world tilted beneath his feet.

He turned and walked. Fast. Almost running.

“Rafayel…” Jiwon called again, barely a whisper.

But Rafayel was already gone.

Gone like he had been waiting five years to vanish this time.

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Jiwon stood frozen, his arms slack by his side.

His heart was pounding in his throat. He hadn’t expected this. Not today. Not like this.