two • hanbok
traditional korean dress

-Seoul, Modern-day :: Jung Yonghwa-

When we finally arrive at CNBLUE's headquarters, Joseon Lady looks like she's about to faint.

I've gotta say... She must be genuinely insane to believe that everything around Seoul is new. I mean, think about it. Cars? Streetlights? And she should at least recognize one video game! Not to mention she seems really confused at... hangul. You can't really get much more ordinary than hangul.

Unless you're used to hanja, which she says she is.

Jieun's already waiting at the secruity gate, a newsboy cap pulled carefully over her eyes and a baggy trenchcoat wrapped twice around her tiny figure. She lights up when she sees Joseon Lady and runs toward us in an all-out sprint.

"Is that her?" she bubbles excitedly, gesturing wildly at Joseon Lady.

"Yeah?"

Jieun claps her hands in delight and races toward Joseon Lady, who looks like she wants to run away. I don't blame her.

"Hi!" Jieun says, grabbing Joseon Lady's hand and shaking it vigorously. "I'm Jieun! Lee Jieun! Great to meet you! You're from the Joseon era, right?"

Joseon Lady stares at her and gingerly pulls her hand away. "Um... yes? I believe that is the case..."

I snort. "Jieun, calm down. She's not really from the Joseon era."

"Of course she is." Jieun places her hands on her hips. "What's your name?"

"Seo... Seo Joohyun. Most call me Seohyun."

"Seohyun? What a pretty name!" Jieun claps her hands again.

"Jieun, listen." I walk over to them and turn Jieun's shoulder. "I know you're excited, but there's no way she's actually from the Joseon era."

Jieun rolls her eyes. "Alas for this poor fool," she said, her tone resonating with royalty. "He knows naught of fusion sageuks."

"Hey!" I cry indignantly. "Just because I'm not addicted to dramas like YOU doesn't mean that I'm a fool!"

"'Course it does. Means that you can't spot a real Joseonite." Jieun sticks her tongue out at me. I stalk to her, but she slips behind Joseon Lady and curls defensively.

"C'mon, Jieun," I complain. "You can't be saying that this girl came from 300 years in the past!"

Jieun peeks out from behind Joseon Lady's skirts, her gaze hardening. I freeze, dreading the quote that will inevitably follow—

"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?" she says, her voice lowering a pitch or two and taking on a rather British accent.

"It's not impossible that she's completely psycho."

"On the contrary, my dear Watson, the very definition of a 'psycho' is one suffering from a chronic mental disorder and demonstrates abnormal or violent behavior. Lady Seohyun here is rather intelligent, calm, and intelligently calm. She cannot be a psycho."

"Mmhmm," I say, completely unconvinced. "She can still be crazy."

"You have no faith in me," Jieun says, rolling her eyes, and turns to Joseon Lady. "Hey, Seohyun-ah. Who's the current king?"

Joseon Lady's eyes brighten, as if she's just been asked something that she's very knowledgable about, and suddenly I'm feeling really, really uneasy.

"The current monarch is Kyeongjong, the 20th King of Joseon, son of Sukjong, son of Hyeonjong, son of Hyojong, son of Injo, son of Kwanghaegun, son of—"

"Holy crap."

The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. Joseon Lady stops short and turns to me, an expression of curiosity on her face.

"How the heck did you learn all that?" I mutter. "And why? Why would you need to know about your ancestry line?"

Jieun interrupts. "Hmm, good point. But it does come in handy when you're trying to convince the nonbeliever that you're actually from the Joseon era," she teases, reaching up to tweak my nose. I bat her hand away.

"Maybe she's just really good at history."

"Oh my gosh. Honestly, Yonghwa! it up and deal with it!" Jieun says, rather crossly. She turns on one heel. "Seohyun-ah. I'm'a take you clothes shopping, 'kay? You can't really walk around in the streets like this."

Seohyun looks appalled. "I—I must pertain to—to the fashion of this time?"

"If you're talking about the shorts, we can find something a bit more... modest. Not everyone's this bad. I'm sure we'll see something your style." Then Jieun whips around again, poking me in the chest. "And Yonghwa, you're gonna drive the car and carry the bags. To repay your debt."

"What—debt—why—?!"

"For giving Seohyun a hard time, of course," Jieun says. "It's the least you can do. C'mon, let's go!"

What.

What.

"Yonghwaaaaa, I'm waaaiiiiittttiiiinnnng!"

WHAT.

::-::

-Seoul, Modern-day :: Seohyun-

I consider myself incredibly lucky to have met someone like Lee Jieun. Whatever these 'fusion sageuks' are, I am incredibly indebted to them. Any foreign mannerisms I possess are not shunned by Jieun; in fact, more often than not, she adapts them herself.

"Shut not the door!—I-I-I mean, please... please leave the door open."

"Aww, Unni, no need to try so hard with me. I can understand sageuk-speak, you know. If you want me to shut not the door, I'll shut not the door."

Or:

"I am not considerably favoring this attire.—I mean, I don't really like these clothes."

"Kinda short, eh? It's alright. I got some dresses for your considerable favor. Try these on!"

Or:

"Yonghwaaaaaaa! I'm huuunnngry!"

"I, as well. Apologies, Mr. Jung."

"Yeahhhh, Yonghwa. My stomach is becoming empty. We must get all of us nourishment, posthaste!"

::-::

By evening, we walk out of this 'shopping complex' with a bag of clothes on each arm... and Mr. Jung carrying the rest. Jieun seems thrilled at the results of our escapades.

"Okay. The moment we get home, you have got to try some of these on. I'm pretty sure you'll rock the feminine look the best, being from Joseon and all. Y'know, lace, ruffles, puffs—heyyyy, Yonghwa, hurry up!"

Mr. Jung stumbles next to us, slamming a bag of clothes on the floor.

"I'm through," he muttered. "I'm not budging one more inch with these bricks."

"You ooowwweee heeerrrrr," Jieun sings.

Mr. Jung groans and hoists the bags over his shoulder. "How much further?" he whines.

"The parking lot's right over there," Jieun says cheefully, gesturing across the street. "C'mon, Younghwa. They're not that—"

Screeeeeeeeeeee—BAM!

My head whips around. A few feet down the street—there's a pile of twisted metal and flashing lights, paired with the smell of something burning—two 'cars' crashing, I believe. Jieun and Mr. Jung have both frozen in their tracks, eyes rapidly flickering from the road to me.

The driver of the larger car clambers out, looking frazzled but unharmed. But the smaller car—the entire front is crumpled, airbags preventing me from seeing the driver.

I race there, my heart pounding in my feet. Jieun latches on to my arm.

"Unni..."

"Contact the city guard," I say, my voice firm.

Her face flickers in confusion for a moment before settling into understanding. "119? You got it. But—"

"But what?" Time is running out for that man in the car. I can feel it.

"It'll be very dangerous—we should just wait—"

"There is no time. The city guard."

She lets go of my arm and scrambles for her pocket communication device—a 'cell phone.' I hurry to the smaller car, taking in the scattered broken glass and crushed metal. I turn to the rider of the larger car.

"Please open the door," I say.

He stops wringing his hands and yanks at the car's frame. The door creaks open.

I crawl into the 'passenger's seat', ignoring the shards of glass cutting into my palms. Gas is filling this chamber, emitting a foul scent. I know for certain that it is poisonous.

"Seohyun! What are you doing?!"

It's not Jieun, as I expected, but Mr. Jung. He's racing to the car, face twisted in worry. My heart warms, but I ignore him.

I place my palm on the man's bloody forehead. His life energies are fading rapidly. Ticking down. I am abundant with energy, but if I feed him—he will become my anchor. My only link to this world. If he severs that connection, I am doomed.

Stop being selfish and save this man.

Closing my eyes, I gather energy to the tips of my fingertips and start a controlled stream into his spirit. I let it trickle in, a little at a time; that way, if he is beyond saving, I can pull back.

This works for a few seconds. Then my restriction breaks without warning.

My life energy is flooding into him like a roaring waterfall. I can feel it passing through his blood, leaking out of his body. It is leaving faster than it is staying. If I stay in connection with him, we both will die.

I try to pull my hand away. It is fastened to his forehead.

He is becoming my anchor, I realize belatedly. I have to stay until his life energies stabilize.

I will die.

My mind begins to cloud. I feel my father on the other end of the connection, sending more of his energy to me. He mustn't. He is too weak. He must keep as much as he can to himself.

"Seohyun!"

A hand lands on my shoulder. Panicked, I snatch it with my free hand. My life energies start a dual flow.

"What the—what's happening?!"

I force my eyes open. It's Mr. Jung, staring at our joined hands with a look of utter bewilderment. He must have a sensitive spirit if he can sense the flow.

"I'm... sorry," I rasp. "You... will be... my anchor..."

My consciousness drifts away. The last of my energies, my link to my own spirit, drain into Mr. Jung. 

He will keep me alive. But he will suffer for it.

(Late. Yeaaaah. Really late. But I was on a writer's block for the longest time ever.

One note: Some may complain that Jieun (IU) is a bit too peppy right now. My idea is that she's really excited with Seohyun coming from the past. Her character will probably mellow over the next few chapters, although she'll still remain as awesome as ever.)