Chapter Text
Less than a week remained before the rent was due for the multifunctional rooftop room perched atop a seven-story flat.
Despite the low cost and the wider outdoor space, climbing to the top floor was exhausting, especially with no elevator access, and the bitter winter weather made it even worse. Out on that rooftop, there was a surface shaped like a square table where he usually sat. And on that surface now sat a young man, twenty-three years old, wrapped in warm clothing, his eyes fixed on the sky that felt unbearably high and distant above his head. The extreme cold of winter didn’t bother him enough to go back inside.
His mother had already called him ten times, and he ignored every single one of them. He drew a deep breath, letting the crisp winter air fill his lungs. There was something oddly comforting about the silence in this forgotten corner of Seoul. Finally, on the eleventh call, he answered, reluctantly, his voice barely above a grumble, “Arraseo, Jay’s coming,” as he slung his guitar bag over his shoulder.
Near the front yard of his family home, he got off the bus and walked alone. The night dragged on. Jay couldn’t deny it—everything around him felt unbearably slow. Before he entered university, he remembered skipping school almost every day, hanging out at the now-empty basketball court, riding his bike, making music with his friends. That was before his final year when every high school student in Korea was expected to dedicate themselves to cram school, while Jay simply chose to run away.
He opened the front door. “Jay’s home,” he called out. Silence greeted him. Jay placed his guitar beside the doorway and took off his shoes. The atmosphere was quiet, almost heavy. He was expected. His mother and older brother were waiting--his brother had just returned from a business trip for his orthopedic medical seminar.
“You’re so hard to reach, huh?” his mother scolded from the dining table, already dressed up neatly.
Jay blinked awkwardly and sat there facing his mother. Surprisingly, his older brother sits beside him. Jay looked at him, confused. “Wasn’t Hyung’s business trip supposed to last longer?” he asked.
His brother shot back with a sharp edge, “What about you? When are you graduating?”
The question, Jay had already expected this. This is why he hates visiting this suffocating house.
Choosing to stay quiet, he sat down at the table and began eating in silence. He listened as his mother spoke proudly about his brother’s long list of achievements. Jay could feel the moment approaching when he’d become the next target, and so he focused on his food, chewing without a word.
“You too--when will you graduate, huh?” his mother finally said, her tone sharp. “Stop busking on the street like some lost soul and finish your studies. Eomma paid a lot of money to get you into that school. Your grades couldn’t even get you into a state university.”
“How many times do we have to talk about this, Eomma?” Jay looked up, visibly irritated. “I went into law school just like you wanted. Now let me do what I want.”
His brother confronted him, “Jay, you’re so ungrateful to Eomma--”
“There we go again.” Jay stood up from the table. “If my presence here only earns me your scorn, I’d rather leave. I’m sick of all of you trying to control my life.”
Bang!
His mother slammed her hand on the table, startling him. “This is for your good! Eomma paid so much for you! Can’t you be obedient like your brother, just once?”
“I was. I became a law student. And look at me--I’m miserable. I don’t care about school. I’ll do whatever I want,” Jay snapped, walking away from the dinner table. He put on his sneakers, grabbed his guitar bag, and left the house.
He had barely taken a few steps outside when his brother stormed out of the house, his expression thunderous. His voice rang out loud and sharp, echoing through the quiet corners of the neighborhood. “YAH!” Jay stopped in his tracks. He looked up at the sky for a moment, then slowly turned around. His brother stood just outside the gate, disbelief painted across his face. Their eyes met—two very different images. One was neatly dressed, rigid, and composed, while the other stood in secondhand clothes, his guitar strapped across his back like a burden he refused to put down.
“Eomma did all this for you, you ungrateful brat,” his brother spat. Jay’s eyes softened for a second as he watched him approach, the way he always did—like someone ashamed of the reflection in front of him. His brother looked at him as if he were something dirty, a blemish on the family’s carefully polished image. “Do you have any idea how Eomma feels, seeing you out there busking? You're humiliating us. You live like everything's a joke. Don’t you know Eomma loves you?”
They stood just half a meter apart now. Jay’s expression was empty, but his voice carried weight. “Does success satisfy you?” he asked.
“What?” his brother snapped, confused.
“Your achievements. Your career,” Jay’s eyes shimmered, but he smiled faintly. “Have you ever asked the middle school version of yourself—the one who used to love drawing?”
“Tsk. You’re too idealistic,” his brother scoffed. “This world is cruel. You can’t even pay your rent, and you still spout that kind of nonsense. Think about how ridiculous you sound.”
Jay took a step forward, still calm. “Oh yeah? When was the last time you laughed?”
His brother fell silent. At that moment, snow began to fall gently from the sky. Jay smiled faintly.
“At least I’m braver than you, hyung.”
With that, he turned around and walked away, leaving his brother frozen at the gate. Something about those words struck deep. His brother glanced at his right palm, the earlier rage slowly fading from his eyes, replaced with something softer. He watched his little brother’s narrow back disappear around the corner, the guitar bag bouncing lightly with each step.
“Damn it… you’re right,” he muttered, letting out a long breath and shoving both hands into his coat pockets. “I am… a coward.”
In Hongdae, where the night stayed alive with tourists and locals in search of food from all corners of the world, Jay made his way toward the usual spot. It was an intersection near the traffic lights, a place where street performers often gathered. As always, he opened his guitar case and placed it in front of him. He began to play, his hands steady despite the falling snow and biting cold. He just needed a moment of peace--to clear his thoughts.
His fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, and passersby slowed their steps, captivated by the way he played. Jay looked up at the sky, vast and endless, his eyes clouded with sadness.
“So when you go… somewhere safer… something greater…”
His voice was soft, almost fragile. A few people stopped to listen. Some dropped small bills into his open guitar case.
“I’ll keep you close…”
And then, something strange happened.
Among the crowd of strangers, a single figure stood still. Dressed in an off-white tunic, with matching formal trousers and brown shoes that looked like they were made of leather, he stood out--completely out of place. He stared at Jay with a solemn expression, unlike the smiling faces around him.
Suddenly, the man raised both hands into a gesture of prayer, eyes closing slowly as he bowed his head. It was strange. He looked like someone from a church, yet not quite a priest. His clothes weren’t right. Something felt… off.
Jay looked at that white tunic man with a confused expression, Isn't that face... look exactly like him?
“WATCH OUT!”
A blinding light came from the far end of the road. The crowd gasped. Jay turned his head just in time to see headlights speeding toward him. A car. At full speed. The driver was drunk. And Jay stood there--frozen.
Cold. And suffocating.
He opened his eyes slowly, dizziness and nausea slamming into him all at once. He jolted upright, staggering out of bed and rushing toward the small bathroom. Everything inside him came up. His throat burned. His head spun like it was being crushed.
“Oh, Young Saint!” a healer rushed to his side, gripping his shoulders tightly. “You’ll be alright—just let it all out!”
His mind couldn’t grasp what was happening. He dropped to his knees, gasping, his eyes wide. Everything was spinning. Thankfully, the healer guided him back to bed.
“Drink this, Young Saint,” the man said cautiously, offering him a cup.
“Y-Young Saint?” he repeated, confused.
The healer blinked. “Y-Yes… Young Saint Jongseong?”
That name hit him like a slap. He stared around the room. Everything was wrong. The environment was vintage and old-fashioned. The air smelled different. The silk pajamas on his body felt too smooth, too luxurious. The room looked like something out of 1980s Europe.
“J-Jongseong?” Jay whispered, confused and horrified.
Before he could gather his thoughts, an elderly man and a younger man wearing a deep navy court uniform entered the healer’s chamber. Jay’s eyes widened in disbelief.
The elderly man leaned weakly against the wall, speechless, while the man in the blue uniform stepped forward and grabbed Jay’s hand with a puzzled, intense expression.
“Is the Saint fond of joking and lying?” the young man with a deep navy court uniform demanded.
Jay’s instincts kicked in. He shoved the man’s hand away and yanked him forward by the collar until their faces were only inches apart. The man in blue looked at him, wide-eyed. But Jay didn’t flinch.
“You wanna die?” Jay growled, his eyes locked onto the man’s.
He didn’t know it yet. But the man he just threatened was none other than Prince Lee Heeseung.