The night air bit through your sweater as you stepped into the alley behind the old bookstore. Seoul was quiet tonight—too quiet, like the calm that sits on your chest before a scream. You weren’t supposed to be here. You knew that. But the letter you found in your locker, written in perfect calligraphy on blood-red parchment, said otherwise.

> Come alone. Midnight. You’ll understand everything.

It wasn’t signed. But somehow, you knew it was from him.

Jay.

He was the quiet one in class, but not the invisible kind. No, Jay was impossible to ignore. There was a gravity to him—calm, cold, with a presence like winter. Girls whispered about him. Teachers kept their distance. You had watched him from afar, never brave enough to do more than that. Until the dreams started.

The same one every night.

You’d wake up in a cold sweat, your name echoing through your head like a chant. And always, always, those eyes—obsidian, ancient, watching you from shadows that seemed too deep for any ordinary boy to dwell in.

And now, here you were.

“Right on time.”

His voice sliced through the silence, smooth and velvety with an edge that raised goosebumps along your spine.

You turned slowly.

Jay stood in the alley like he belonged to the darkness, all black clothes and that ever-present stillness. But something was different. His eyes shimmered unnaturally in the moonlight—like polished glass, like a mirror that didn’t reflect.

“What… is this?” you asked, heart thudding.

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“I thought you’d be smarter than that.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, stepping forward, “You felt it, didn’t you? The pull. The way the world changes when I look at you. The way your shadow tries to follow mine.”

“I—” you hesitated. “It was just dreams.”

Jay’s laugh was soft, humorless. “There are no ‘just’ dreams. Not with me.”

The world dimmed slightly, as if the stars themselves shied away from his words.

He reached into his coat and pulled out something small and metallic—a pendant, twisted and blackened, carved with strange runes that made your vision blur if you looked too long.

“This,” he said, holding it between his fingers, “belongs to you. It was taken from you long ago.”

You stared, unsure if you should run or reach for it.

“What are you?” you whispered.

Jay’s smile deepened, but it wasn’t warm. “Something that was supposed to be forgotten. Until you woke me up.”

You took a step back, heart hammering.

“Why me?”

“Because you're the only one who remembers the deal you made.”

Your blood turned to ice.

“What deal?”

He stepped even closer. “Your soul. Mine. Bound in shadow. We’ve danced this cycle a thousand times, and you always forget. But I don’t.”

“You’re lying.”

“I never lie. It’s... inconvenient.”

He pressed the pendant into your palm. It burned like frostbite, like memories trying to claw their way out of your skull.

Flashes.

Darkness. A forest soaked in moonlight. Two figures—one cloaked in white, the other in endless black. Your voice. His name.

“You said… I wouldn’t have to remember,” you choked out, shaking.

“But I did. I always do.” Jay’s voice was low, and there was something dangerous underneath. Not anger—something worse. Hunger.

You dropped the pendant, but it hung mid-air, suspended in invisible strings before sliding back into your hand.

“You can’t run from this,” he said. “From me.”

You backed away until your spine hit the brick wall. The cold seeped into your bones.

“What do you want?” you asked.

Jay studied you, those unnatural eyes narrowing with something almost like pain. “To stop forgetting. To stop losing you. To stop reliving this cursed life without you by my side.”

He took your hand. You should’ve pulled away—but the moment his fingers brushed yours, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t care if you love me,” he whispered. “I don’t even care if you hate me. Just remember me. That’s all I ask.”

Your knees gave out, but he caught you.

“Let me show you,” he said, pressing two fingers to your forehead.

And then—

A flood.

Of memories, lifetimes, deals signed in blood and shadow, whispers beneath eclipsed moons, ancient promises made under stars that no longer exist.

You had loved him. Once. Again and again.

And betrayed him. Again and again.

To save the world. To save yourself.

And each time, he had waited. Patient. Eternal. Becoming something not quite human in the process.

The alley returned in a rush, the weight of it all making you dizzy.

“I remember,” you said, barely audible.

Jay inhaled like he hadn’t breathed in centuries.

“I waited so long to hear that.”

You looked into his eyes, and they weren’t mirrors anymore. They were glass cages, filled with thousands of versions of you. Some smiling. Some screaming.

“I can’t do this again,” you said, pulling away.

“You can,” he said, voice gentle but absolute. “You just won’t.”

And just like that, the darkness surged.

The air twisted. Your breath caught.

And the last thing you saw was his face—tender, victorious, and terrifyingly in love.