Once upon a time, there was a beautiful —

No, no, no. This is not a fairy tale. There is no damsel in distress guarded by a vicious dragon nor a knight in shining armor, riding a magnificent white horse. This story is a result of a human being's imagination, thirst, and a lack of better things to do. 

What happens:

Kwon Jiyong is a 27 year old manhwa artist living in Seoul, South Korea, where he was born and raised. His debut work was about 5 college students, struggling to find their places on earth while school, work, family, love, and life happened. It gathered much attention for its amazing detailed drawing, its realistic and yet dreamy plot.

Ahn Hani, the perfect daughter and student, was sending almost all of her pay to someone she talked once a month on the phone. Kim Minseok took interest in her when she flat out murdered his flirty manner. No, no, he was not a rich heir who falls for a poor girl in debt.

Kim Bobby had everything, and yet felt empty. He couldn't even talk about it to anyone because who would want to listen a privileged , right?

Im Yoona never told anyone about the night she ran away from home, wearing nothing but her pajamas.

And then there was a girl who carried around Minseok's picture everywhere with her. She knew everything about him, and yet thought she would just spare him the pain and never talk to him.

Fight to accept and love themselves, war against society, rebellion against being forced to grow up bitter and pathetic, the five knights' lives marked a groundbreaking debut for Jiyong. 

Then came his second work, a diary of a murderer who murdered for fun.

At mere age of 21, the main character was one of the most respected and well known person in the whole country. Because she was born with a diamond spoon in . Because her twin brothers were handsome and tall and famous. Because her father practically owned everything and everyone. Because her mother is an A-list actress. Because she was born pretty and talented. Everything was hers to take and devour.

Happy she could have been, if not for the fact all that was just so damn boring to her. Interested she was in life though; The meaning of it was a wonder nobody could solve. How it started. How it came to here. Was everything happening real? Or were they just programed puppets to live like this? Was there a meaning to it? Why do people die? What happens after that?

Everyone worked so damn hard. As if they would live forever. Everyone ran so fast. As if it was important. Their eyes were dull and their limbs moved automatically.

But when they saw blood, they changed. When they were frightened, they became alive. She threw a dead body to the center and enjoyed the chaos she created. People cried because of her. People screamed and fought because of her. She was in complete control of who would live and who would die.

As dark and twisted as it was, Kwon Jiyong pulled off the plot by focusing on one thing: The killer's sick justification of her actions in her mind. There were books about detectives desperately chasing after a criminal. Movies about a victim's family member getting involved in a crime. But nobody laid out a pretty and young killer with a mind so complex and simple, that it made even the most innocent sympathize with her while hating her guts.

All this didn't happen over a single night, of course. For years, Kwon Jiyong sat in his room. Practicing and practicing until he would gasp for air in the middle of the night, afraid all this was going to result in nothing. His high school friends were graduating and getting jobs. Even getting married, having kids. They were starting to support their parents. Everywhere he went, someone would, for sure, ask him what he did for a living.

The pressure would sometimes get to him and made him feel like he was useless. Who was he? Seriously. How dare he think he is special and different and worth all the risks?  What he feared the most though, was what if he didn't make it? What if he really didn't make it? It wasn't about the money or his friends or his future. It was about how he felt like he would just drop and die if he didn't do it. He loved it just that much. He was meant for it, he knew it.

Right?

Literally hundreds of finished or unfinished works were thrown aside, rejected, and shredded. But one story rests alone in one of Jiyong's many many drawers. His first. One he worked on for years and years. The only one he never thought about publishing it. This one is for him and him only. 

Right now, Jiyong is asleep, blissfully unaware of what is to come at him. A second later, his bedroom door is kicked open and a tall lady walks in, looking calm and cool as if she didn't just kick someone's door open.

Jiyong bolts up on his bed, eyes red and hair ty. He groans and drops back to his comfortable pillows and blanket when he sees the intruder. 

", Soojoo," he mumbles. "Did you really have to do that?"

Soojoo puts down the coffee she brought on one of Jiyong's tables, and makes herself comfortable on his bed. "It wakes you up instantly. And I really like seeing you get into a shock first thing in the morning."

Jiyong mentally rolls his eyes. "Why are you here?" he asks. Still refusing to look at Soojoo, who looks too ready and chic to be at whatever time it is on whatever day it is, while he is rotting on his bed.

"Mom said that the interview you were gonna do next week is gonna be tomorrow, not next Tuesday. She wants you to take a break as long as possible. She already booked everything for your holiday."

"You gave me shock first thing in the morning just to tell me that? A simple text would have been just perfect."

"I'm here to say bye, you idiot," Soojoo smacks his arm lightly. "I'm going back to Paris, and I plan to stay there for at least few months."

Hearing this, Jiyong sits up slowly. He smiles at Soojoo. "Finally comitting?"

Soojung nods shyly. Jiyong hasn't seen her get shy for years. She had been plaiyng push-and-pull with a guy for years now, always too afraid it would end if she gave in. 

"He's a great guy," he says, meaning it.

Jiyong gets a rough hug and a sloppy kiss from Soojoo as a see-you gift. Then she's off, all grown up and ready for risks.

He carefully takes a sniff at the coffee Soojoo brought (she recently developed an annoying hobby of putting the most disgusting things in his coffee) and even more carefully, takes a sip. Nothing sour or salty or spicy. Just a normal ice americano. Maybe Soojoo really does love him, like she is always claiming to.

He hears his phone ringing as he comes out of his cold shower. It's a number he does not recognize, but he accepts it anyway. If one of his readers somehow managed to find his number, he was in the mood to make their day. Clearing his throat, he answers, hoping he sounds dreamy and y and charismatic and cute all at once.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm reporter Park. May I speak to writer Kwon?"

"Speaking," Jiyong sighs. No need to sound dreamy and y and charismatic and cute all at once. 

"Yes, I just sent you an e-mail about tomorrow's questions. They're all there is. If you are uncomfortable with any of them, will you please let me know?"

She sounds way too cheerful to be at whatever time it is on this whatever day it is. 

Jiyong nods like an idiot. Then, a second too late, he realizes the reporter can't see him. "Yes, sure, of course. Thank you."

"Thank you for accepting to have an interview with me!" 

Why did he accept this interview in the first place? He had already rejected dozens of them, maybe hundreds more were rejected by his agency. He had decided to go with this one because the journalist really did seem to be interested in his work. She never once asked him about his love life or his "secrets and tips to keep fit and y".

No, she was wondering if he would be comfortable talking about how hard his researches must have been when he wrote about a serial killer. Did he feel like he could somehow relate to her? Did he feel ashamed to have come up with such a story? What about depression? It must not have been all sunshine and ice cream when he read about seemingly endless murder cases. Does he have a writing schedule? Disciplined and organized mind? Or just sit down and write whenever the idea hits you? Was he worried about having a biual and an aual characters in his story? What about sales? How does he deal with haters? Saying how he only "threw minorities into his work" for an attention. 

She was asking the questions Jiyong himself wanted to answer. She made him feel valuable and respected. Also, she managed to get his private e-mail address and contacted him, and had admitted bribing someone who works for him. She was good and honest. Jiyong liked that.

What he didn't realize, of course, as he read her e-mail, was that she was a human equivalent of the most energetic bunny ever. 

Jiyong rubs his temple. "Thank you for having me," he says automatically (he semi-passed his media training). 

Great. She is going to be all happy and bright tomorrow. Jiyong is too tired and grumpy for that.

He spends most of the day reading and writing. He also catches up with the second season of Sense8 while eating his dinner. Then he goes through his e-mails before turning himself off for the day. 

Most of Park's questions are the ones she had already e-mailed him before. Only a few new ones, and just one that catches his attention. 

What was your very first work about? 

Jiyong had expected this, of course, but nonetheless his stomach clenches uncomfortably. He will just have to lie tomorrow. Lie his off. Say something about superheroes. Someting about him imagining himself as the city's protecter. People will find that cute and lovable. People didn't have to know about his first story. It's private. Jiyong doesn't owe anything to anyone, he didn't need to feel guilty about it. 

After spending hours and hours of sessions with Dr. Lee, Jiyong's guilt no longer haunts him like it used to. It's been 10 years already, Jiyong realizes. Oh, wow, how fast the time flies. 

He opens up the top drawer or his desk, then settles down on his bed with a  handmade book in his hand. Jiyong opens the book gently, slowly, almost lovingly. 

Seunghyun is grinning at him. So young and carefree in his uniform. The page is slightly yellow compared to the rest. It is the first sketch he has ever done of Seunghyun. In the bubble next to Seunghyun's head, reads the words, 'Thank you, Jiyong.'

Jiyong smiles back at him. He turns the page. Seunghyun's head rests on his arms, his right eye visible as he stares at Jiyong. As if he just woke up to find Jiyong watching him. As if he knew Jiyong would be doing just that. 

Seunghyun is pouting in the next page for some reason. Both eyes fixed on Jiyong. 'Come with me, Ji.'

As the pages turn, like the time does, Seunghyun grows taller and older. He loses the fat in his cheeks, and he no longer wears his uniform. But he is always looking at Jiyong. Saying something to Jiyong. Sharing something with Jiyong. 

Seunghyun gets a villa, because he likes it. He smiles sheepishly at Jiyong and asks him if he likes it. 

He has a king size bed in his bedroom, and he claims he needs it because he moves around too much in his sleep. 

Seunghyun watches movies, he reads books, he cleans his home, he works out, he knits, he cooks, he gets to do everything except live outside the world Jiyong created for him. 

In the last page, Seunghyun looks sad and angry. He easily dominates Jiyong with his eyes. And he asks him, 'Are you happy now, Jiyong?'

Jiyong closes his book and sighs. "I don't know."

The last thing Jiyong thinks about before losing his conscious mind to sleep is Seunghyun's eyes, looking at him as if he blamed him. 

Jiyong grins sleepily when he sees Seunghyun looking at him. 

"Hi," he says. "were you watching me sleep?" 

Seunghyun nods. He sits on his armchair with his legs crossed, looking wide awake and gorgeous. 

Jiyong stretches his limbs, feeling himself awaken. Pity this dream didn't come to him earlier. Loose dream would have been fun. He rubs his eyes and sits up on the bed, yawning. Seunghyun is still there. Jiyong scratches his arm. Seunghyun is still looking at him. Jiyong blinks, Seunghyun raises his eyebrow at him coolly. 

"Nice of you to finally join me." Seunghyun says, and Jiyong hears him. 

Jiyong jumps out of the bed, the sudden movement causing his eyes to get blurry and legs wobbly for a moment or two. He looks around. It's not his room. It's Seunghyun's room. The one he designed, the one he drew. Seunghyun looks exactly like how Jiyong drew him in the last page, except he is sitting. Except he is talking. Except he seems to be real. 

Jiyong's heart drops down to his stomach, where it starts to pound violently. This can't be happening, Jiyong thinks. This isn't real. He's still dreaming. 

He slaps himself hard and winces at the pain. Jiyong turns to look at Seunghyun when he hears his laughter. 

Seunghyun smiles at him apologetically. "Sorry, but that was just really cute." He gets up from his chair and slowly walks at Jiyong, who steps back quickly until he hits the wall.

Seunghyun his lips before he speaks. "I really wanted you to come, Jiyong. I can't believe you're really here." 

Jiyong feels Seunghyun's presence in front of him. Pretty much alive and real. "But Seunghyun—" he whimpers, tears forming in his eyes. He blinks them away and rubs his eyes. Seunghyun is still right in front of him, looking hurt and worried now. Jiyong feels weird, so weak from the inside, he's empty but his legs can't support him anymore. And then, he loses himself.