The night had woven a tapestry of melancholy. Its dark hues painted the sky with an eerie sadness that seemed almost tangible. Beneath the crooked roof of their humble abode, remnants of the nocturnal symphony still lingered, swirling like faint whispers of secrets untold.

Jonghin and Dani were still awake, not even the harrowing tiredness could push them to some rest. They tried not to think, to not let their minds wander off, but the moment their eyes met, a ripple of trepidation washed over them.
Those piercing orbs held a depth of sorrow and desperation, foreshadowing an impending storm that would rattle the very foundation of their existence. The anguished whispers of the night whispered of something far greater and more monstrous than they had ever encountered.

Jin slumbered peacefully, unaware of the ominous aura that had befallen their lives since the night.

But Sejin sat locked away in a desolate room, trapped between the realms of reality and the supernatural. The exorcist's assurances did little to quell the unease that pervaded the air, for there was a foreboding presence, dripping with malevolence, spreading like a shiver across the miles.

When his eyes opened, he found himself wrapped in a blanket. Confusion washed over him as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. How had he ended up in this unfamiliar room? And why was everything different?
Possibly, he was hurt the night before right on his forehead above his left eyebrow and his hand swung in action feeling a fabric rug beneath his touch, a little band-aid. With more consciousness seeping into him, he felt tidied up, the red shirt was now green and his shorts now full pants.

Quickly discarding the blanket, he walked to the door, trying to turn the knob and push it open, but found it locked.

"Ma! Open the door, I am up!" Sejin called out, hoping his mother was on the other side, "Ma!"

Maybe she had locked the door because he was sound asleep. Perhaps a simple explanation would ease his troubled mind. "Ma! Can you hear me?"

But silence greeted his pleas. No sound of footsteps, no reassurances from his mother. "Pa! Please open the door! Someone!"

Desperation crept into his voice. "Pa, pa.. Open the door, please. Jinnie! Jinnie, please..."

The weight of silence hung heavy in the stale air. Tears welled up, and Sejin's voice cracked as he cried out for his family. "Pa! Ma! Jinnie..."

His cries echoed throughout the hollow room, but there was no response. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating him with their indifference. Everything had died down after a long fight, after enough pleas. Sejin was left alone with his own thoughts, his sobs echoing within the desolate space, unheard by anyone.

Sejin sat upon the floor and cried, "Ma!"
Mumbling for his mother, the boy kept sobbing and none, none of them even slipped a word, no comfort, no love.

The evening came soon, and the little boy crawled to the corner switching on the light to find food and water on a little table. The sight of delicacy had ingested all the pain; Hunger and thirst got better of him and he gave into the two horned demon soon gulping down whatever remained on the plate. The water quenched the sublime drought ploughed on his insides, his head beamed, his skin burnt. His heavy body tumbled a few steps until he fell upon the cold floor submitting to the darkness.

He had woken up many times, plummeted upon the door, called for his mother, his father, even Jin; alas none of them fend the energy. So, he sat and waited, waited until Jin would be reaching out to him, when Jin would open the door.

With an intrepid gaze, he explored every nook and cranny of the room, uncovering hidden corners laced with dust, spiderwebs weaving intricate patterns, dilapidated furniture, and forgotten boxes. It was as if his mother's words echoed in his mind, revealing that this room housed not just mere objects, but a treasure trove of cherished memories and untapped possibilities. Determined to embrace the legacy that lay dormant, he decided to cloak their old toys and maybe even their faded pictures beneath the weight of these reminiscences.
A boy of five years had found enough reason to stay put.

The answer, just within his grasp, lay concealed within a mysterious box. Now, that very box resided right before his adventurous spirit. Countless hours had been devoted to the quest for this coveted secret, and now, his disbelief almost overwhelmed him, for he had truly stumbled upon it. With anticipation coursing through his veins, he rotated the knob, magically unlocking the box. As he delicately raised its lid, his entire being held its breath in excitement, yearning to finally unveil the elusive answer he had relentlessly pursued. Alas, as the lid lifted, a disheartening realisation struck his daring soul-the box stood barren, devoid of meaning.

Waiting and watching. It was all He had done for the past hour. He watched as birds flew past the window bolted shut. He would put his ears on the floor, trying to hear something, even peed through the small hole on the floor. He couldn't reach it if he wanted too, with that hole in the floor. He thought he could escape through it but three stories were a bit far down.

That was the first time he had heard sirens outside, the only proof of living beings. He had quickly climbed up the boxes, trying to peep out. So many people stood outside their house, some had police uniforms on, some had been holding microphones and the relentless camera flashing.

He didn't look for the sky, or the lost hours, he tried to find his family. Sejin furrowed his brows, his eyes squinting along with as he found his mum, his dad and his twin.

Why were they here? Couldn't they find him? Was he kidnapped by that bad man who hurt him that night?

Fisting his little hands, he hit the window, hoping for someone to notice him.
"Eommaaa, I am here... Appa... Appa..."

None bothered to look his way. No one. Like every other time.

Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen early in the morning, rushing over Cambridge eastward, a line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have seen it and taken it for an ordinary falling star. It seemed that it fell to earth about one hundred miles east of him.

When the light finally went off, the dawn had begun in the hefty blobs.

...

Sejin wiped the tears from his eyes, the cold air stinging his cheeks. It had been years since his twin last spoke to him. It started with one-word replies, then having separate rooms and then different schools. And what followed was radio silence.
At first, he thought Seojin was upset with him over something, but as the weeks dragged on with no acknowledgement, not even a glance in his direction, Sejin began to feel a gnawing emptiness inside.

It was weird to him that after that night of pain and torture when he kept crying to be saved, everyone avoided him. What was his fault?

The days passed like a slow-moving fog, each one indistinguishable from the last. Sejin went through the motions - attending school, eating at mealtimes, drawing breath without conscious intent.

Their parents too seemed oblivious, wrapped in concerns that kept them distracted, their gazes flickering over Sejin without really registering his presence. At the dinner table, he was a ghost, his chair occupied but his soul ignored. Invisible.

Sejin tried to connect, to elicit even a nod or smile from his twin, but it was like tossing pebbles into a bottomless well - nothing returned.

What could an eight-year-old do? Self-awareness was still budding, abstract concepts elusive. Sejin only knew that a heaviness pressed upon his chest, that his brother's silence was a yawning void that threatened to swallow him whole.

One evening, stealing down the stairs on silent feet, Sejin spied Seojin hunched over their desk, writing intently by moonlight. Sejin crept closer, curiosity overriding fear. Seojin's brow creased, his jaw clenched. With a shock, Sejin saw tears glistening on his twin's cheeks.

The thickness in Sejin's throat grew unbearable. Mustering courage, he placed a tentative hand on Seojin's shoulder. Seojin stiffened, then slowly, so slowly, turned to face him. In the silvery illumination, his eyes shone with a sorrow so deep it stole Sejin's breath.

"Why don't you want to play with me anymore? What did I do wrong?" Sejin pleaded, voice cracking.

"I'm sorry," Seojin whispered. "I'm scared, Sejin."

"Why? What's going on?" Sejin asked, his own voice trembling.

"You're... you're the devil, Sejin. That's what appa says. He told me to stay away from you or he would send me to Seoul too."

"Why? What did I ever do?" He demanded, anger flashing in his young eyes.

Seojin flinched but continued, voice barely audible over the winter wind. "Appa said he's going to send you away to Seoul, back to where you were born. He said we'll never see you again."

Sejin's heart clenched painfully. Send him away, back to Seoul? But why? He was no devil, he was just a scared, confused little boy. Tears pricked at his eyes but he blinked them back.

Seojin seemed to waver. He reached out to touch Sejin's shoulder but then pulled back. "I'm sorry, Sejin-ah. appa would be so angry if he knew I talked to you again. I... I have to go."

He slipped back into his room, leaving Sejin alone in the empty hallway. Sejin stared at the closed door, Seojin's words echoing in his mind. "You're the devil... appa told me to stay away from you..." Back to Seoul, all alone.

__________

Take care.