*Five years later*

Junsu POV.

"Hello, hyung!" Chansung bounced into the room. His face was flushed with excitement or he was hyped up, he didn't know.

Junsu sighed and turned to look at the kid - wait, no. Not the "kid". He was an adult. ... Actually, no. A kid stuck inside an adult body. That's a little more accurate.

"What, maknae?" He masked an internal giggle as Chansung pouted. (Aish, this kid ...)

"Hyung, don't call me maknae! I'm all grown up now! I'm taller than you! Aren't I?" Junsu rolled his eyes. Sure, Channie was an adult ... -ish. He was taller than him (but that doesn't prove anything.) But ... Chanana certainly didn't act like a not-maknae... He smiled.

"Well ... You don't act like one." ...

*after dinner*

Chansung's POV

 ... I woke up, and yawned not-so-loudly, stretching. I reached over to my bedside table and grabbed my midnight snack. Munching on the banana, I crept into my private bathroom and switched on the lights. I felt like I had sticky stuff on my face. I looked into the mirror, and gave a small shriek. ... There WAS something on my face. Black and purple marker pen. Smiley face. There was only one person who could've done it. ...

"Wooyoungie, you're DEAD..." He turned to open the bathroom door, then froze. It wasn't there. He slowly turned around and saw the mirror, reflecting back his own face, pale and scared. Shoot, did he really look like that? "I-it's not funny," he muttered out loud to no-one in particular. He slapped himself on the arm.

"Come on. Wake up, Chan." He stood straighter shakily. His reflection, however, didn't move.

"Oh, sh*t..." he mumbled as the reflection's head moved up. And looked him straight in the eyes.

Its eyes were blank, unfocused. Its face was limp and expressionless. It was him ... But not him. ...

Chansung gave a gasp and stumbled backwards. He felt a gap beneath his foot, and looked back, horrified to see a yawning, black abyss opening up below him. He looked to the side - the same. He was on a rocky island, surrounded by a giant black cavern, with a mirror with a creepy replica of expressionless-half-dead-chansung.

Yep. About summed it up.

He started to panic again as it started to speak in a low, long, flat drone. That wasn't like him either.

"You are one of the Six. You have to do what you must do. Come, let it help you. Do not let it ..." the voice was getting fainter and fainter. Chansung was staining to pick up the words.

"Wait, stop!" he cried out. "C-come - back - no, go away!!" "Find ... Others ... Alone ... Time ... Must ... Foresee ... Now ..." the voice vanished.

The abyss vanished. The strange Chansung-that-was-not-Chansung vanished. ... Chansung woke up with a scream, sweat pouring down his face, at the dead of the night in his room, with the tolls of the church bells striking midnight in the distance.

Calm down, he told himself as he attempted to regain his composure as he could here murmuring from the next rooms. It was just a dream. Just. A. Dream.

Then a cold wind breezed through the curtains, carrying a low, long, flat voice that sounded oddly like his own.

"Remember what you said ... The time is fast approaching ..."

Chansung shivered and pulled the covers up over his head, curling up into a ball.