As he passed, the houses grew further and further apart, gone from great clusters of cramped noise to the evenly spaced rows of white picket perfection he observed now. Behind perfectly trimmed hedges lay upper-class perfection, from the dainty china he supposed sat in their cabinets to the pools they likely had in their backyards. In his mind he recalled the tight smiles, too-loud laughter, and wary gazes, obsequiousness dripping of every word, superficiality lining every breath. 

 

He knew these people. He had worked for them once, and it had cost him everything he knew. 

 

And now he was back. 

 

The foremost expert on soul separation and integration, known all throughout the world for his successful extraction of his own half-soul. Lee Jinki, the renowned scientist mage who had swore he would never again take up the practice of splitting souls.

 

But Leeteuk’s pleading eyes, the photographs splayed out across his table like a card trick, the irrefutable knowledge that he was the only one in the world--except for him, the voice in his head whispered--who could solve this case, all brought him away from his lab and back into society.

 

And here he was, in front of the General Hospital. The shine of sun on glass glinted off the wide windows, a too-bright contrast against the impeccable white concrete walls. All in all, the building looked imposing--too perfectly maintained to be the site of heartbreak and tragedy. But then again, maybe Jinki was predisposed to thinking only in those terms, he supposed, the crystal orb hanging off his belt.

 

Thanking the driver Leeteuk had prepared for him, Jinki tipped the man and shuffled to face the hospital. He could feel the thrum of excitement in his bones, echoing distantly into his consciousness. Discomforted by the feeling, and his own detachment from it, Jinki pulled his reasons for agreeing to this to the forefront of his mind--this was a tragedy, people were being hurt, children were being hurt, he is only here to help. And to learn, his mind supplied, it’s been so long since we’ve used this half of our brain.

 

Frowning, Jinki pushed the doors to the hospital open, and introduced himself to the front desk staff, mouth twisting at the way the receptionist immediately dropped her notepad and tried to hide the awestruck tone of her voice as she called the department head downstairs. He was further discomforted by the way the man immediately appeared from behind the door to the lobby--he was clearly waiting for Jinki to arrive.

 

“Mr. Lee, it is so good to have you hear,” the man said, sticking a hand out for Jinki to shake. He was a well-built man greying near the temples, with features that spoke much more toward a sense of kindness than one of beauty.

 

“Jinki, sir,” Jinki cut in, “You can call me Jinki.”

 

The man nodded. “You can call me Dr. Han.” 

 

“Dr. Han, I’ve read the case files, but maybe you can refresh me on our way to the patients?” Jinki asked, feeling a strange and swirling mix of dread and excitement.

 

“Yes, of course. For the past half-year or so, we’ve been getting handfuls of patients who appear to have no outward symptoms, but are behaving differently than their relatives or friends report is normal for them. Some are listless, some are excitable, but all of them seem to be incapable of moderating or balancing their emotions. They also are prone to fall into comas for no discernable reason, which is why we keep them here in the hospital, as they require daily care. 

 

Our psychiatrists have assessed them, and nearly all diagnoses come back superficially appearing as some sort of mental illness. Indeed, we initially diagnosed these patients with extreme onsets of mental health crises, but medication and therapy proved ineffective. In addition to that, purely psychological causes would not explain the comas.

 

So we decided to hire a mage specialist to see if anything with their souls had been tampered with. And it appears that they all are missing some part of their soul. Which is why we turned to you.”

 

The doctor concluded, and turned to see that his partner in conversation was stopped a few feet behind him, a strange look on his face. 

 

“Is something the matter, Jinki?” he asked, approaching the young man.

 

“You can call me Onew, Dr. Han,” the young man replied, sticking his hand out, “After all, I’ll be the one working with you on this case.”

 

Dr. Han blinked, but took the hand regardless.

 

“Leeteuk might have told you, but I am the one who specialises in soul splitting and transferral. I am excited to meet these patients and find out what has happened. Did any of them mention a specific event that caused this phenomenon?”

 

The doctor stared for a second too long, before jolting and saying, “Yes, yes, actually, they did. In a way, at least. None of them can remember the day before they were changed. They remember in regular detail their lives before and after the event, but nothing about it.”

 

“Fascinating,” Onew breathed, adjusting his glasses. “Traumatic events can sometimes cause a part of the soul to split from the body.” He paused to look down at the crystal orb. “Perhaps they all experienced some great trauma?”

 

“It’s possible,” Dr. Han conferred, before pausing in the hallway. “Up ahead is our ward for these patients. Please be prepared that not all of them will be accommodating of your visit.”

 

“Of course, Doctor,” Onew smiled. “Shall we begin?”

 

“Our first patient has been here the longest. We were ready to write off the boy’s condition as an anomaly of a sudden onset of mental health crisis or brain damage, but thanks to the persistence of his family, we’ve been keeping him under observation for over six months now. He’s very subdued, he won’t try to hurt you.” He made eye contact with some nurses about to enter the room before adding, with a wry smile, “Not like Taemin.”

 

The doctor knocked twice on the door before pushing it open. Inside, a boy was being propped up into a sitting position by the nurses. He had long, wavy hair, and kept his face tilted down and out of sight.

 

“Hello Minho,” Dr. Han cheerfully smiled at the boy, whose eyes flickered over to him then fixed themselves back on the bed. 

 

The nurses gently coaxed Minho’s arm up and held it in a steady position to draw blood. Minho flinched when the needle entered his skin, but otherwise, remained completely detached from the process. 

 

“Is today a talking day, Minho?” Dr. Han asked, pulling out his clipboard. 

 

Minho’s eyes darted nervously toward Onew, before returning to their position glancing down at his feet.

 

“Oh, this is, um, Onew. He’s a specialist in your condition, so he’s helping me observe today.” Dr. Han explained, turning to gesture at the young man before realizing with a surprised look that Onew was no longer standing near him in the doorway.

 

Instead, he had moved into the room, hurriedly digging through his pack, as he muttered under his breath. 

 

“This is highly unusual,” he got out, fishing around until he pulled out another crystal orb. “The soul appears to have been split completely in half. It’s an almost surgical precision--exactly half. And it’s not an even line, either--it appears that whatever did this was able to pick and choose what components of the soul to extract. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

As Onew rambled, he approached Minho, who looked up at him with wide eyes. Minho tensed as Onew rested a hand on his shoulder, but Onew paid him no mind. He was too focused on observing the contours of the boy’s soul--a smooth, cold blue pulsing dully under his hands. A lovely color, Onew thought, but nothing terribly unusual, until one noticed the frayed edges--wrinkled and torn, clearly sheared through by a professional. 

 

It was fascinating. Onew could feel his pulse jumping in his chest as he surveyed the boy’s damaged soul. He knew very well that souls could be split in two and still leave a functional body behind, but that was when two souls were coexisting in one body. To see this, a half soul trying to fill out the space of an entire body, was something novel. Though, Onew noted, recalling the doctor’s interactions with the boy, it appeared complete functionality was somewhat lacking.

 

Finally noticing the trembling under his hands, Onew looked down to find that the boy was shrinking away from his touch. Blinking, Onew quickly removed his hand. 

 

“Minho,” he tried, sinking down so his face was at eye level, “I know this has been a confusing time for you. I believe your soul has been stolen.”

 

The boy’s eyes raised to meet his, before skittering away. 

 

“I think it will be important for us to find out where the other half of your soul has gone. Can you tell me what you remember from before you were in the hospital?”

 

After a few beats of silence, Dr. Han cut in, “Minho’s family tells us he was an energetic and talkative boy, though somewhat shy around strangers. He was active and athletic.”

 

“Thank you, Dr. Han, but I’m curious to hear what Minho remembers from his previous life. Minho, can you let me know if what Dr. Han said is true?”

 

The boy stared down at his feet. Onew could see the flares and twists of his soul--a clear indication of his anxiety, as if his tensed body and nervous glances weren’t enough. 

 

“Today might not be one of Minho’s vocal days, Onew. Sometimes he feels up to a couple of words, but those days are getting rarer as of late.” Dr. Han looked concerned at that last statement.

 

Onew let out a puff of air, before standing back up and turning to Dr. Han. “You mentioned comas. Has Minho here fallen into one before?”

 

“Yes, he was in a brief one just last week.”

 

“Hm. That is concerning.” Onew frowned. Minho was noted to be one of the longest residents in the hospital--perhaps his soul was wearing down from the effort of supporting an entire body? That would explain the increasing reluctance to communicate, the comas…

 

“Well,” he patted his hands on his thighs, “Maybe I can look at a few other patients, and see if I identify any similarities. Nice to meet you, Minho.”

 

Dr. Han turned to the nurses. “Is it time for his walk? We need to keep his muscles from atrophying any faster than they already are.”

 

They nodded, and returned to fussing over the boy as Onew and Dr. Han left the room.

 

As the door closed, Dr. Han let out a sigh. “His condition is getting worse. Minho is quite popular amongst the staff, and his family visits weekly. If something can’t be done, then…” 

 

The Doctor trailed off, taking off his glasses to rub at his eyes. 

 

“Don’t worry, Doctor. I learned quite a bit from this visit, and am sure I’ll learn more from seeing other patients.” Onew felt strangely compelled to reassure the man, smiling at him before something caught his eye. Down the hall, he could see a patient round the corner, pausing only to yank a gurney from the side of the hall behind him.

 

Onew squinted at the scene. The patient was approaching closer, and with him, a clamor of banging and shouting followed. 

 

“Taemin!” Dr. Han shouted, getting into a bracing position in the middle of the hallway. 

 

“Catch him! Stop him!” Voices yelled as hospital personnel appeared behind the corner, pushing the gurney out of the way and scrambling to follow the rogue patient.

 

Now that the patient was in range, Onew could see that he was a boy, perhaps younger than Minho, with blonde hair flying in his face and a wild look on his eyes. His soul was stretching and spitting, a fluorescent yellow. He made eye contact with Onew, before twisting his face into a snarl and charging forward. 

 

At that very moment, the door to Minho’s room swung open and, with nurses supporting his arms, Minho took a hesitant step out. Just as Onew had turned his head toward Minho, he felt a solid thud against his side, and then the sudden, shocking thrill of antigravity, before his head and upper back banged against something behind him. 

 

Disoriented and tangled in a pile of limbs, the final thing he registered was a feeling of bright heat against his thigh, before a blinding flash of pink light lit up the hallway.

 

Blinking away the remnants of that light behind his eyelids, he sat up. In the corner of his eye, he could see Dr. Han bent over near the wall; from far away he could hear the shouting of hospital staff. But up close, he saw the blonde boy--Taemin--groaning and pulling himself out of his lap. Taemin surveyed the scene behind him, including Minho, who was still sprawled out behind the both of them. 

 

And then Taemin smiled. He laughed for a beat, before reaching a hand down toward Minho. Minho’s eyes flicked upward, revealing a warm brown filled with a light that hadn’t been there before. Minho took Taemin’s hand, before offering the boy a small smile of his own.

 

And then the world came crashing back into place--Dr. Han stumbled over to grab Taemin and shout out for a tranquilizer, hospital staff came buzzing around them, crunching over the broken glass, and--wait. Broken glass?

 

“Wait!” He cried out, rushing to put himself between the boys and the staff. “Wait, just...leave them alone for a second.”

 

“What’s going on, Onew? We need to restrain Taemin before he--”

 

“It’s Jinki, Doctor.” He cut in. “Just wait, alright? I think something’s changed.”

 

Indeed, Minho and Taemin seemed almost oblivious to all the commotion around them, standing still in the hallway with their hands clasped together. 

 

“I’m Taemin,” the boy spoke up, face no longer twisted into the angry grimace it once was.

 

“Minho,” Minho replied in a soft, deep voice, ignoring the gasps from the nurses.

 

“Minho….” Taemin tested the word out. “I think we should be friends.”

 

Jinki looked at the crystal fragments beneath his feet, the purple and orange swirls of the souls in front of him, and finally, the ceiling of the hospital corridor.

 

Just what are you planning, Jonghyun?

 

--