The day was unusually quiet. A soft breeze fluttered the classroom curtains, but Daeshim sat motionless, staring blankly at the board in front of him. He was always like this—silent, alone, and distant. No one really knew what went on inside his mind. Students sometimes tried talking to him, but he'd either not respond at all or reply so briefly that they eventually gave up. Some found him strange, even cold. Others were intrigued by the mystery he carried.
Today was no different. Daeshim sat in his corner seat by the window, his head resting slightly against the wall, eyes low but alert. The classroom filled up with noise as students chatted and joked around before the teacher arrived. The moment the door opened and the teacher stepped in, the class fell quiet.
"Good morning, everyone," the teacher said with a kind smile. "Let's begin."
He opened his notebook and scanned through the material. "Alright," he said, looking up at the class. "Let's do something different today. I'll ask a question, and I want one of you to answer."
He paused, eyes searching, then landed on Daeshim.
"You. Daeshim. Why don't you answer this one?"
Daeshim blinked slowly. He hadn't studied. He wasn't prepared. For some reason, studying never made sense to him anymore—his thoughts were always somewhere else, like a storm brewing quietly.
He slowly stood up, unsure of what to say. But the moment he opened his mouth, something strange happened. Words started flowing—fluent, perfect, and far beyond what he had ever read or studied. It was as if the knowledge had been sleeping inside him, waiting for the right moment to awaken. The classroom was stunned. The teacher's eyes widened, clearly impressed, and the rest of the students whispered in disbelief.
When Daeshim sat down, silence followed. Even those who didn't like him couldn't hide their awe.
The class ended soon after. As the students gathered their things, the teacher made an announcement.
"Tomorrow, our school is organizing a field trip to the forest outside the city. It's going to be an educational and fun experience. Be ready!"
Everyone seemed excited—except Daeshim. He had no interest in going. But that night, something strange pulled at him. As he sat alone, he heard a voice.
"Daeshim… my child… come to me…"
It was soft, distant, yet deeply familiar. "My son… my dear son… come to me…"
Daeshim couldn't explain it, but something inside him responded. He felt drawn—dragged almost—to that voice. And so, against his will, he joined the trip the next day.
The bus ride was filled with laughter and chatter, but Daeshim stayed silent, his thoughts clouded by that mysterious voice. When they arrived, students scattered around, exploring and enjoying nature. Daeshim wandered deeper and deeper into the forest, guided by the haunting whispers only he could hear.
"My child… come closer…"
He walked further, his heartbeat rising, until he found himself standing before a dark swamp. The mud looked thick and bottomless, but he couldn't stop himself. A strange energy pushed him forward. Suddenly, the ground beneath him gave way, and he sank into the marsh.
He screamed, calling for help, but no one was near. The others had stayed far behind. He realized, painfully, that no one even noticed he was missing. Those who knew he was there didn't care. The rest never even realized he came.
"Is this… how I die?" he thought. "Alone… in this cursed forest… with no one to remember me?"
His memories flashed before his eyes—happy ones, painful ones. He stayed still, hoping he wouldn't sink further, but his body slowly continued to disappear into the mire. As dusk fell, the howls of wild beasts echoed through the trees. Daeshim was terrified. The darkness crept in, and then—suddenly—a snake slithered near his head.
Startled, Daeshim flinched. The movement was enough. With a loud squelch, the swamp pulled him under completely.
Everything went black.
But… he was still breathing.
And then, he felt himself falling—faster and faster, as if the earth had given way beneath him. The wind roared in his ears until—
CRASH.
He lost consciousness.
When Daeshim opened his eyes again, a blinding white light hit him. He winced and slowly adjusted to the brilliance around him. The world he saw was breathtaking.
"This can't be real…" he whispered. "Am I… dead? Is this heaven?"
Lush meadows, glowing lakes, and skies painted with colors he had never seen before surrounded him. The place looked divine. Then, he saw them—figures moving towards him. They were tall, graceful, with flawless white skin and glowing blue eyes, dressed in flowing white robes. Daeshim froze.
"Are they angels?" he thought.
They approached cautiously, staring at him with shock and curiosity. One of them stepped forward.
"You… understand our language?"
Daeshim blinked. "But… you're speaking my language."
They exchanged startled glances and immediately took him to a grand palace nestled between crystal-like mountains.
Inside, Daeshim met their king—a calm and dignified figure with an aura of immense wisdom. The king looked at him long and hard before asking,
"Are you… human?"
Daeshim nodded slowly. "Yes. I am."
Whispers spread across the chamber.
"A human? But… he's alive."
"Impossible. Humans cannot survive here."
But Daeshim heard them. His senses were unusually sharp. Every whisper, every breath—they were crystal clear to him. He stood in silence, overwhelmed.
"No human has ever made it here without… disintegrating," the king said gravely. "How are you still alive?"
Daeshim couldn't answer. Instead, his mind flashed back to the events leading to this place. He recounted everything—the voice, the swamp, the fall.
The king listened carefully, and then Daeshim asked, "If humans can't survive here… who are all of you?"
The king replied, "We are the Seraphins. Guardians of the sacred lake that gives us our power."
Daeshim asked, "But who do you protect it from? No one else can enter here, right?"
The king's face darkened.
"We protect it from the Necravores."
He explained that the Necravores were once Seraphins, but they betrayed their people for the greed of power. One of them drank directly from the sacred lake, becoming the source of all corruption and the King of Necravores.
"But why only one?" Daeshim asked. "Why didn't the others drink too?"
The king sighed. "Because only a being with a massive aura can contain the lake's energy. If anyone else tries, they… explode. Even our previous king didn't dare drink. He feared becoming what he fought against."
Daeshim was stunned. "So… what happened to him?"
"In the final battle," the king said, "our people gave the old king all their energy to fight the Necravore Lord. Before he drank the lake, his queen gave the vessel to their child—to protect it. She hid it… under her baby's cradle. But in the battle, both she and the king were killed."
"And the child?" Daeshim whispered.
"When we searched later, the cup was empty… and the child was gone."
Daeshim's heart pounded. Everything matched—his dreams, his lost memories, that strange voice.
"Could I be… that child?" he thought.
The chapter ends… but the real story is just beginning.