The slip of paper feels heavy in the palm of my hand. I look down at it, then at the numbers on the mailbox, back down. I do this once, twice, then get out of the car. To be honest, I was expecting some sort of run down, creepy warehouse. Not a cute one-story home with a koi pond and garden in an uptown neighborhood of the city. 

The suspicion I once had earlier washes away as I walk down the stone pathway to the front door. Before I get there, I notice a little boy building a miniature snowman that’s barely bigger than him. His white cap slips a little, and the gray anorak he wears touches the snow covered ground.

Cautiously, I walk up to him, and he smiles as he sees me.

“You know, the other day I saw that you would be here and that you’d help me finish this snowman.” He extends a tiny hand filled with the white ice.

“Would you like to?”

I nod, and then crouch down to pick up a handful of snow and place it on the work in progress. He starts to shape the newly forming mound into another round ball for the head. He seems seven or eight, but there’s a mature aura around him.

“You said you saw me? In a vision?” I ask and he rapidly nods his head.

“Mhm. Momma’s like that too. And she said I’m getting better at it-”

“Woomin!” A voice calls out. “Woomin—Ah there you are!” A middle-aged lady comes rushing to his side. “You’re mother’s not going to want you to catch a cold…” She notices me and raises her eyebrows. A surprised kind of recognition fills her eyes. “You and your guest should hurry inside.”

“Not yet. We’re going to finish this first, and then momma will come home. Then we can go inside.” He smiles and the lady brushes his bangs from his face and then nods. She turns to me and urges gently to continue. I pat more ice on the snowman. 

Right when Woomin places the eyes, two roasted, almost burnt, walnuts, on the snowman, a black BMW pulls into the drive way. Once it parks, a lady steps out. Wavy, jet-black hair cascades down her shoulders, hazel brown liquid is reflected in her irises. She sees me, and she doesn’t look surprised. Instead, she hurries over, hugs Woomin, and then turns to me.

“I hope the journey here wasn’t too confusing, Daeun.” She says in a melodic voice.

“How do you know my name?” I blurt out, a habit.

She extends a hand out. I take it. “Danmi. Jongin’s old dance instructor.”

It’s only then I notice the tattoo on her wrist. The heavy outlined circle and the waves. The Reditus.

Before I can respond, she ushers all of us inside and brews tea and one serving of hot chocolate. The other lady brings out the steaming mugs while

Danmi hands Woomin the sweet chocolate. It reminds me of the day I met Jongin.

“I guess it’s only natural to want to know why you’re here.” She settles onto a cushion next to her little son. “I have important things I have to tell you. Before it gets any worse.”

Surprisingly, I feel safe here. I don’t feel the rise of shivers running down my spine or the eyes of something unknown digging into my back. Nothing.

“Around nineteen years ago, I got a glimpse of who the Pure One would be. A girl, and she would be born later on that year. After a few months, her location, as well her name and various other things were revealed to me in visions. A few people found out, and desperate to find her, they threatened

me.” She pauses. “They killed Jongin’s parents, because I refused to give out the information.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” I try, and she smiles a little.

“Yes, but it doesn’t make it any better.” Danmi takes a sip of her tea. “I’m sure you’ve noticed this.” She pulls up the sleeve of her shirt and reveals the tattoo. “It is the Reditus insignia. I, as well as Jongin’s parents, were a part of it. The group was not always all about turning vampires into humans. It’s sole purpose was to protect the Pure One. Reviving vampires, was something the more material members wanted. They did that, because they wanted their loved ones back.

“The Kims and I were the only few remaining members who truly wanted to keep the Pure One safe, all the rest started to get greedy with power and turned rogue. Before we could realize it though, they us, wanting the location of the next Pure One to get rid her. They did not want to be saved from the black power they were delving into.”

Woomin starts to yawn and leans into her, and she ruffles his hair gently. “A few days before they took action, I had a vision that Jongin would meet the Pure One, and that he’d protect her. So when the rogues started to threaten us, we pleaded that he run, so he could live and save her and therefore save the rest of the world.”

I don’t like where this is going. Not at all. I’m a regular person, a human. Maybe with a ragged and torn past, the edges a little burnt like a photo that survives a fire, but normal. Normal, right?

“Daeun,” She says. “In order to revive a vampire, they perform a ritual that forces humanity back into the being. The process gives the newly revived vampire unexplainable powers and they’ve created droves of them, slaves that wait for their command to take over the world. The Pure One, presents a problem for them though. Although her blood is safe for any other vampire, it can take away that power from revived ones and make them useless

pawns. These rogues don’t want that.”

The other lady comes back to take the sleeping Woobin away to his room. I breathe unevenly. “Who is she, the Pure One?” I ask quietly even though I already the answer. 

Danmi gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid she’s you.” 

Normal. Right...

“They’re going to try to get to you, mess with your head. You can’t let them. You can’t.”

I try to distinguish each emotion that flares up in me. It’s hard, I realize after a few attempts. It’s all jumbled together, one seemingly merging with another and becoming something entirely different. 

“Do you believe in Fate, Daeun?” She wonders while I finish the last of my tea.

“Kind of.” I reply, swishing around the tiny bits of dried leaves at the bottom of my cup.

“Then I’ll tell you a little story about your past lives. You’re always a girl when you reincarnate. For some reason, your soul just prefers it that way. Anyway, when you’re soul was first born, you were given a, I guess you could say, friend. He was created to stay by your side, and be the person you could always rely on.  All those times you’re reborn, he follows and at some point, you two meet. It sounds like a happy ending, but I guess Fate had to mix up a few things. 

“You’re protector was assigned a different soul mate. At various times in your past lives he strayed away because soul mates are immediate attraction, whether he likes it or not. It’s a hit or miss on who he chooses in the end, you or her, loyalty or lust, it really depends on how strong your relationship is, whether it’s as friends or lovers. However, in this life, you can’t afford to let something get in the way of your friendship with him. You need him now more than ever, especially with the upcoming struggles you’ll have to face.”

“Are you...are you saying it’s Jongin?” I feel the words roll off my tongue. She nods. 

“He’s a vampire in this life, but vampires only seemingly live forever. Centuries is almost like eternity to a human. By the time his life period as a vampire is up, you’ll be reincarnating again, and he’ll be right there with you.”

“Do you know who his soul mate is?” I ask.

“No, but I know the approximate time they’ll meet.” The older lady returns once more to clear the empty mugs away. “You know that cherry blossom by your apartment, the one that never blooms?”

“Yes?”

“They’ll meet there the year that it does bloom again.”

“That tree has been practically dead for years.” I say incredulously. 

“Yes, but the year it does start to blossom, is the year he meets her.”

I feel the cold realization sink into my bones. Jongin was meant for me, but he was never really mine from the start.