The Next Life (?? ?? ???)

The Prince

"My dear Hyensuk," there was a hint of malice in his voice, one that I'd never heard directed towards me before, "I have not seen you so..."

"So willing to stand up for what is right? Father, you cannot possibly–"

"...so uncertain in your loyalty." The glint in his eyes now completely consumed them in blood red. Surely that was a trick of the light, just my mind playing tricks on me?

"Loyalty?! How can you, Great King Yangsuk, confuse righteousness and common decency for disloyalty?"

"You see, my child, you have become... something of a liability, so to speak." His words held such deliberation as a villain's monologue.

"Wha–" My vision darkened as my face was assaulted with a fabric akin to a potato sack. The last thing I heard before my surroundings blurred together was the snapping of wood from the gallows and the straining of rope.

"Wha–"

~~~

I shot awake, bolting upright in my bed. My chest heaved like I'd just walked up ten flights of stairs as my hand met the sweat-soaked back of my shirt.

Temples pulsating, I struggled to make sense of the dream I'd just had. I grasped on to every last detail I could recall. Jisoo was there, I was sure of it. And... so was the King. Was what I witnessed a flashback? No, flashbacks were for past memories. My own past memories. Jisoo hadn't mentioned a prince, had she? Now that I thought of it, I never learned exactly how she had died.

Before the memory of the dream faded, I reached out to my nightstand for the notebook where I usually recorded my dreams in. Specifically, dreams that felt like they held any sort of significance. Then again, significant was a strong word; there were a bunch of dreams in there that were nothing more than nightmares. Stuff like being chased by a demon with long claws, being stalked by a Rasetsu (an adolescent fear which I had Wendy to thank for), that sort of thing. When I was younger, I'd hoped that these sorts of dreams would reveal the key to why I saw the things I saw, but now it was more of a habit. A coping mechanism.

I placed my pen back onto the nightstand and shut the notebook once more. The leather cover had worn over the years—which was to be expected for something that dated back since my time in the orphanage—but the sigil which looked back at me remained the same. Engraved into the front cover was a depiction of a winged serpent, crudely designed, stabbed through the heart with a single dagger. Not exactly the kind of thing you'd expect a toddler at an orphanage to be in possession of, but apparently the book was the only item that had been left with me on the doorstep all those years ago. Or so I'd been told.

Grabbing my phone from my nightstand, I checked the time to see it was 10 in the morning. By some stroke of luck, the restaurant I worked at would be closed up till next week due to a gas leak. Though, I did feel bad for imposing a greater portion of the rent on Wendy, who only had her monthly-funded scholarship money as income.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I forced myself up from the bed and out of the bedroom.

"Hey, you're up," Wendy greeted me with concern written on her face. Judging by her hair and her clothes, she'd been up for a while.

"Hey," I forced the word out from the remains of my sleep. "Aren't you supposed to be at uni?"

"Class, cancelled. Two words that, together, sound like music to any student's ears." She gave an exaggerated wink. "You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks," I scoffed. "Nightmare."

"Oh, and who's Jisoo?"

The unexpected mention of the name brought me to full consciousness. "Say what?"