It was raining on the day of the burial. Like the day before, and the whole week after. The pastor kept his speech extraordinarily short because no one wanted to stand for longer than necessary in the downpour. Almost as if the sky had opened to empty a sea above their heads. Raincoats weren’t made well enough to withstand such a mass of moisture, and even umbrellas were useless due to the imponderable recoiling and the wind which nastily found a way to bypass, the handful of relatives that did bother to come are drenched in an instant and more then eager to leave. At least they had the decency enough to wait for the pastor to finish. Minjun muses as he notices the gathered shadows around him leaving. Slowly at first, but their steps quickly fastened as they headed off to the next roof, which was the entrance of the graveyard. Goodbyes and condolences were shortly spoken before they hurried back to their cars. Driving back to the dry and sheltered comfort of their warm homes. Turning their backs from the unpleasant reminder that everyone has an expiry date and that time is running ruthlessly, continuing with their normal lives as if nothing had happened.
 

            He couldn’t blame them, nevertheless they had the manners to show up - not everyone did.
 

            When his feet finally carried him away from the final resting place, the wooden coffin couldn’t be seen anymore as the workers had already started to shovel earth down onto him.
 

            He was still shaken up, as he reaches the caring embrace of his mother. The hug was short and did nothing to comfort him. After all he is soaked and she didn’t want to get wet. Her clothes were only damp thanks to her short stay on the graveyard and her new raincoat. She still had to drive the brothers’ home, and soggy clothes would be distracting. Apparently his younger brother already sat in the car playing games on his phone. He was a little too calm about it all. After all, they just said their final goodbyes. They never will have both parents ever again.
 

            When the hospital called, his brother almost bawled his eyes out. He was jealous of the tears his brother was able to shed. As if in utter disbelief of the news he had felt nothing, nothing at all. Not even the pain. If he had to describe it he would say that someone had slapped him and froze  time the second the impact hit him. He registered the blow, yet he just couldn’t feel it because he had been and still is paralyzed by the shock. His brother however seemed to cope with it a lot better than he did, as he came to terms with the hard reality.
 

            Maybe it is due to the fact of the sudden name change, the last wishes of his dying father. Or the burden that now lies on his shoulders as he was the oldest man in his family and now has the responsibility to care for them.
 

            He had always been just a little bit closer with his father then his mother. Every Sunday they would go on adventures together. There was nothing impossible for his father as he was an inventor with heart and soul. It didn’t matter what Minjun had asked him for, a pirate boat or a castle, he would have built it for him. Granted, mostly out of cardboard boxes, but they were made with so much detail and love that he ended up playing along anyway. That was at least before his brother saw the light of day. Even though he often worked overtime to raise the provided daily income, he still took time for them, but the playtimes felt a lot shorter. However not short enough to make the whole living room  a mess of boxes, much to the dismay of his mother who had to clean after them. Now those happy childhood memories were really all he had left.
 

            It all felt so odd, as if he wasn’t really here, just dragging his body along. A part of him must have stood still in the empty living room, petrified while he could almost see his father’s grinning face vanish in front of his eyes. As if someone sealed away all his emotions.
 

Or did they just die alongside his father? Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?
 

Shouldn’t part of his father now live in him? What else was the purpose to change his name if it wasn’t for carrying on his will? However, there was nothing to carry on.
Or so he thought.

“Where did everyone go?”
 

            Asking the obvious question just to break the awkward silence between his mother and him, surely he knew the answer as the empty parking lot already gave it away. Beside their own car, his eyes could spot another one in the distance. A black figure, and even with his slight short sight he could still manage to tell it was a vintage car type. Just the way it was made looked unusual and rare. He remembered that he had spotted an old one when they drove in. A Mercedes Benz 540K autobahnkurier, his brother had said with admiration, and on any other day Minjun would probably marvel his brother’s ability to actually remember such names and his almost ridiculous (in his eyes) interest for cars. The only thing he took notice was that the early bird wasn’t one of his relatives and had an absurd short license plate. The short numbers were very expensive. Which lead him to assume that this either might be someone extremely rich, who needed to spend his money before ending here as well, or someone who had inherited it and visited his ancestor now.
 

            Seeing the car still standing there, he instantly felt some kind of bond to the person. How nice, he thought. He clearly doesn’t care more for money than other people. I salute you stranger.
 

            Minjun was ruggedly thrown out of his preoccupation for other people by his talking mother.He couldn’t really recall what she said. Unmistakably she distinctly tried to cheer him up, but without success.  All he remembered, even weeks later, was his own faltered yet hard breathing; he wished it would have been sobs. He felt almost guilty. What kind of monster didn’t cry at his father’s funeral?

 

            There were a lot of cards in his mail, from strangers, friends, family, and coworkers. He hasn’t opened a single one of them yet.
He stood in the bathroom, starring at his reflection unaffected. There was the faint sound of a ticking to be heard. It took him a while to realize it came from his own watch.
His eyes shifted down to his wrist, seeing the needle that counted the seconds running around in a circle after another. He sometimes took a glimpse down at it always wishing the clock hands wouldn’t move. It wasn’t supposed to move and the world wasn’t supposed to keep on spinning. Life couldn’t just go on as nothing had ever happened. Didn’t they see the whole world was breaking apart?
“Get a grip Kim Minjun.”
He whispers to himself as no one else lived here anyway.

            Despite his words, his body wouldn’t move. He knew he needed a shower, he hadn’t taken one in a while. Also judging by the weird guy that glared at him from the other side of the mirror, it wouldn’t hurt to shave. But those things felt so wrong to him, going back to a normal daily routine. Nothing was normal anymore!

            Not even the still heavily falling rain, as it pelted against his mind instead of the rooftop. The blinds kept all unwanted sunlight out of the room. He couldn’t tell if it was day or night, nor if it even was raining outside, as the sound came from a recording blasted from his little improvised sound studio. The rain was the only soothing sound his mind could handle right now. Something that blocked out the vibration of his mobile phone and the constant ticking of the watch. It killed him to see that the time had refused to stop, that it just kept on running normally. Nevertheless he couldn’t just take it off either as it was a present from his father.

            His mailbox was probably overflowing and his mother and brother kept on calling him. He had listened to the first couples of voicemail messages and deleted the rest. They always had the same content, starting with the essential question of how he has been doing. Sometimes pronounced other times more careful and in a roundabout way and always ended with the request to call back. He clearly wasn’t doing well and didn’t feel like lying to them either. Even if not picking up probably hurt their feelings, he couldn’t pretend t to be fine either. So what purpose would the call have? Empty words. No one could understand what was going on inside him, and he didn’t feel like speaking about it either. He just wanted to be alone and reminisce in peace. It wasn’t like he never told them that he needed a break as he didn’t want them to worry about him. Wishing he could do the same with his mailbox. Swish above it, and click the red trash bin sign. All those depressing letters wouldn’t help him a single bit, it wouldn’t bring his father back. He glanced down at the watch once more. Glaring at the still happily spinning needle, but also remembering the first time he had worn it. His graduation day, ironically enough he had hung over the sink in almost the very same way. Back then however, through his nervousness, it wasn’t the fear of attending the formality and gatherings, it was the unknown feature of now being really seen as an adult standing on his own feet. It was than when his father gave him to clock, to uplift his spirits. On the back there was an engraved quote his father always loved to say.

Things usually make sense in time, and even bad decisions have their own kind of correctness.

                                                                                                          By Miranda July

 

            It was a rather expensive clock, from a Swiss brand as his father always had an obsession with that country. They even planned on making some fancy Christmas holidays there, once his little brother finished school. Now it would never happen, stolen memories that were supposed to be made.
 

            The pressure of suddenly earning the same amount of money to keep his family stable felt impossible. He would need to change his job. He loved his job even if it was just a very simple one with a small budget. His mother always had wanted something more for him, while his father stood behind him. Minjun was a sound-hunter, searching and making sounds for relaxing ambience like the one that was blasting through his apartment since days.

            His life was breaking apart. He would never be able to fill his father’s footsteps, let alone be ready for this kind of responsibility.
 
            Distracted by the fact that he couldn’t recognize his own reflection, loathing the person he was turning into, he decided that it was time to make the first step towards  moving on. It took a lot of effort to open the band around his wrist and take off the clock. It felt as if he was throwing away the last bond he had with his father. But even though the watch was waterproof, the skin beneath the band demanded some cleaning.  He would love to say the shower was worth it, but he wasn’t too sure. The warmth felt nice, as well as the soap too, and his face felt like his own again once the fuzz like felt around his chin was gone.

            However he felt now, but not because he isn’t wearing any clothes and kept on starring at himself. As if he needed to make sure that he was still in his own body. It surely didn’t feel like it. Not because of the dripping drops of water that tickled his skin, but the empty feeling of being stripped of any emotion except this void inside of him. It expanded on his cogitation, as everything eventually became meaningless.

            He knew he needed some sort of distraction, from the hollowness his life had become. It was more over a happy accident that his glances fell upon the bookshelf, where he discovered an old photobook. Maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea to keep on adding salt to the wound, but on the other hand maybe it was what he needed. A reminder of the lost, but also the good things they had shared. It might be a good thing to make the pain grow, anything was better than nothing. Seeing pictures of him and his dad working on ridiculous projects would surely make him cry the tears that are stuck inside of him.
 

            Carefully, his fingers swept over the cover before he vigilantly pulled it out. He was still but his hair wasn’t dripping wet anymore, and therefore he could risk sitting down with it. He started from the back, with the most resent pictures. To his disappointment he still felt nothing except for the nostalgia of actually taking a book out of the shelf and take some time to look at it, a luxury which sometimes became unthinkable. He begins turning page after page, cautiously as if he was trying to collect broken pieces of glass. How applicable, after all his life now resembles nothing more than a pile of shards.
Sometimes his eyes would linger on a picture a bit longer, and one time he detected peculiar round moist spots that soak in the paper. It took him a while to realize that it had been his tears. The picture that broke the dam was from his very first Halloween. He was so into Buffy The Vampire Slayer that he actually wanted to dress up as one. In the back there was his father’s shed, or more like an old unused garage. He had declared it was his own territory and no one was allowed to enter it, as it has been his haven. He created the wooden swords for the costume there while his mother sewed the dress. If he wasn’t building things for the kids, he sometimes also fixed household items. He stood proudly wearing his new dress in front of the outhouse, holding his swords in the air while doing a cool pose. His father stood in the back grinning but there was something that had bothered Minjun about the picture. Now looking at it up close it seemed like there was someone else inside the barn. It was a shadow in the window that had a human like figure.
 

            Rubbing his eyes to make sure the silhouette wasn’t caused by a slight blur he starred at it again. Nope still there, and he was pretty sure that there wasn’t any other person on their property back then. His mother had been in the hospital because she was pregnant with his younger brother, and they didn’t have a visitor. Not that he remembered at least. Well back then he believed the world was full of super natural if only one believes in it. Yet he never came across of something. His father told him that the supernatural was just too cunning and skilled to be spotted, since they lived alongside with humans a long time. It made him smile weakly even now. So this picture would have given him excitement as a child, giving him a thousand and one more reasons to fantasize. Maybe it has been his father’s own creation, secretly hanging something on the wall so that someday he would discover it?
 

            His father always has been extremely creativity and sensible when it came to protecting his son’s dreams. Hesitant, he picks it up with charily to not break this significant memory. Sure he felt slightly better than before, more human somehow, but the hoped redemption never came.

            Going through the pictures left him with a lot of emotions he couldn't grasp as they were all just feeding his sadness and loss. However he did feel something, there wasn’t just desertedness inside him anymore. Almost as if he needed to train himself how to be human again.
 

            The outline of the figure didn’t let him go, and so it came to no surprise that his father’s shack kept on bothering the back of his mind. His mother had asked him to clean it out before, so they could reuse it as storage room. Besides, if picture had such a positive healing ability, dealing with his loss up close might be a good idea. It sounded promising enough to be at least distracting, if nothing else.

            He still wasn't ready for pretending that everything was alright in front of his brother and mother, but he also had made a fuss about wanting to be the one who goes through his father’s belongings. If his mother would have been the one, she might have just thrown it all away without even taking a second look at it. As she was a bit on the spiritual side and believed that chaos was negative for positive energy. It would get distracted and not being able to fill their house. Yes, she always had a thing for feng shui, which went hand in hand with her love for minimalism.
 

            His father was the sheer opposite of her. While she loved it neat, tidy, and simple, he was a collector with a knack to muddle things so that he often resembled the picture of a mad scientist or a crazy inventor. Nothing was safe from him and he loved all kinds of books, researches, and knowledge. Probably the only thing his mother shared with him, though the content of their books were different. Somehow he imagined them to have had a dozen library dates, but then again no one imagined their parents being well... all over each other, right?
 

            While he was a keeper, she was a giver through and through. Both were in a way extreme in their ways, and it was remarkable they got along so well, probably because his father had his own hut. His mother would go so far as to actually give away things they still needed or used, and his father would bring home stuff that was broken and no one in their right mind would want to have. In her opinion materialistic thing weighed someone down, and in his opinion, everything could be used to create something new again.
He found truth in both of their thoughts, and the beauty about their relationship was that at the end of the day instead of fighting about their contrast they completed each other.


            He had never before thought about the relationship his parents shared. The woman he had seen since his father’s passing was nothing close to what he remembered his mother to be. She tried to be strong for her children, and he felt sorry for not being able to try harder for her as well. She usually was merry, witty and funny, a characteristic she had shared with her spouse. Not the controlled and concise woman she is now.
 

            After a quick breakfast, he actually managed to put on some clothes. Happy that he had shaved before as it took him enough motivation to get ready. His mother would probably love to knock the place down; it wasn’t even of the disarray on her property but that he wasn’t around to maintain it. In contrary, Minjun was sure that in some years when the topic wouldn’t hurt as much anymore, his mother would totally use it to prove her point in how important orderliness was. It made him smile a little, because his father most likely would have found it hilarious as well. She hated to lose arguments and would use absolutely anything she could to back her arguments up.

            He was a little late and sure enough once he drove up the entrance he could already see his mother waving at him. She was waiting persistently in front of her entrance door,
making him regret his mistake to text her beforehand deeply. To be honest he had wished to hear that they both were out of town visiting his aunt or a friend, anything to postpone this inconvenient, overwhelming meeting. Well there goes that wishful thinking. It almost scared him that he was actually pondering to just hit the gas and drive past the house instead. Fleeing from the heaviness of his responsibility that already squashes down on him. It’s too early, as he hears himself reasoning, searching for an excuse to leave. But what good would it do?  If Disney movies had taught him one thing, it was that running away from obligation never worked out. It would only become a burden. Besides, he wasn’t selfish enough to crush his mother’s heart like that. Granted it took him a while to cut the running engine and step off the pedals, checking at least five times to assure himself that he definitely had pulled the parking brake before finally open the door. Meanwhile his mother already stood next to the car door, holding it open for him. Unnecessary as car doors don’t just close out of nowhere. Apparently she was just as worried of him driving away again as he considered doing so. Her weak yet continuing gentle smile told him she was struggling just as much as he was.

            "I'm sorry...”
 

            Pretending becomes easy with practice and eventually would become reality. Or so they said in all those big talk psychology books which cost half a fortune, and Minjun knew he had bought some last week. Heck he wasn’t even sure for what he actually was sorry for. For not calling back? For not being here? Or for actually anticipating to leave? Or maybe nothing at all and it was just another lie on the pile to come.
            "I was busy the past week."
 

            He answers here unspoken questions, as she doesn't want to press the issue any further than he was comfortable with. Both equally aware that it didn’t even came close to the truth and he knew she penetrated his act. He never was able to fool or deceive her, in contrary to his little brother. He should probably ask him for some lessons if this continues. At the moment he was grateful for her understanding and not asking.

            She had made Kimichi jjigae for lunch, as Minjun always expressed of how much he loved her homemade stew. Minjun would consider the meal as being successfully awful. Everyone was timid and cramped and even his brother, who typically was known to be blatant, was extraordinarly quiet. He was just spooning the soup with some cut vegetables, tofu, kimichi and pork belly in it and once he finished left the table. Even though he was obvious to the glances they exchanged he pretend he wasn't.

            "You know there’s time, you don’t have to do it so fast if you aren't ready."
His mother finally broke the silent tenderly. Trying hard to ease the tension that still lingered in the room. Only then he realized that he had been clutching his spoon in a tight firm grip. He could even see his knuckles.

            "I know," He answers vague before he let go of the cutlery for good, which lead to his body relaxing. Despite it, he wasn’t willing to have this kind of conversation already, he didn’t deserve her understanding and kindness. All he wanted was space and privacy. To maintain those needs he had to get up. A hasty thanks was being spoken, before he took his plate bringing it back in the kitchen sink, using this doing as an excuse to leave the table. His father would have lit a cigarette after he finished eating, he understood that urge now. As his lungs were in desperate need to be filled with something that was actually heavier than air. But that would have worried his remaining family even more. Besides, he wouldn’t be so foolish and heedless to risk his own health for a simple itch.  Especially since his voice was part of his income.

            After some deep breaths of air, he felt steady enough to direct his heavy steps towards the shed. Once he saw what the other side had in store for him, he almost shut the door in an instant. No, she couldn't be serious about this? There was no way he could even enter as the mess that awaited him on the other side blocked him. There was piles of iron, broken electronics, wires, bottles and other junk. This was not what he imagined it to be like. His whole childhood thought this had been the magical place where stories were created, where the magic happened. But now where did that sparkle go to? Where were the fairy tales, and toys and the fun that was supposed to be created in here?
Welcome to life, his brain tells him sarcastically, while only slowly grasping the great amount of work and consequences of cleaning the mess.
He planned to roll out a plastic cover in his trunk, and drive a couple of times back and forth to the dump. Well now he reconsidered that though, as he really wasn’t planning on buying a new car that soon, beside of the intangible masse he might be better of renting a pick-up truck

            Now he understood his mother’s dislike of the place. She had been talking about making it a new place for her orchid culture but he couldn’t see anything growing here soon. This place is now more of a dumping ground.

            Renting a vehicle that could deal with all the junk thrown at him was seriously one of his best decisions he had made in the last couples of days. Only after his third day and with the help of his new best friend, a mini-tuck, he was able to scrabble a desk free. Not just any desk, but his father’s work bench. His previous disappointment was completely forgotten once he saw this sappy master piece. The topmost first drawer was locked which instantly hooked his interest. He really didn’t want to break it open but had no other choice since the key was nowhere to be found. At least nowhere close by since over half of the room was covered in clutter and he never was the patient type. Behind this drawer could be the adventures he was searching for, if the drawer wasn’t empty! That was almost worse than back then when his father accidentally forgot the Christmas presents at the airport. From a twist of fate he, for some weird reason, couldn’t close the drawer as effortlessly as it had opened which made him look inside of it a second time. To his luck he found an old notebook, or diary depending on how you look at it, that was taped to the upper wall.

            He decided to call it a day and went home early. Still thrilled about the earlier find he placed the book on the passenger seat, snatching some snacks and fresh coffee on the way home. He couldn’t wait for the elevator to come which ended in him running up the stairs to his floor, spilling coffee in the process.  Throwing the bag on the coffee table and the book in his seat before kicking away his shoes and jumping right after. So much for being an adult!

            Soon enough the scent of fresh coffee, bread, and old books filled the room creating a beautiful, albeit melancholic atmosphere. But Minjun was too distracted by the words he read, undoubtedly his father’s handwriting. The food and the previous felt hunger were long forgotten and his eyes grew wider.

            Obviously he felt a little crazy when eyeing his self-made time machine. Not just crazy, the subject itself was close to mentally unstable he thought. Of course a lot of people are fascinated with time machines but building one seems to be so absurd. He had followed his father’s instructions and plan that he found inside the note. So he had no doubt that it would actually work. He trusted his father’s abilities but also felt a little scared. What if he would get stuck somewhere in time? He’ll keep the plan with him, just in case but even with a plan at hand there were still a lot of risks. And not every epoch was able to provide him with all the needed resources, at least not to build one from scratch. So he had to bring his own replacement equipment just to be prepared for the worst.
 

            Seeing it and getting actually in it was a whole new level of scary. He had built it on a remote place, which luckily because of his charm wasn’t as expensive as he feared it might be. It’s a little hut, just somehow similar like how his father used to live. And coincidentally enough he also paid for it using his father’s heritage. Now that he was finished, the garage was almost empty and would have enough space for his car.

            As much as he would love to try it, there was no such thing as messing around with something that doesn’t just only affect his own life. He had to sit down and plan carefully his travel beforehand. Have it all planed out and know the most important facts about the time he had to visit, and maybe some more information just in case he really lost his way. The most important factor would be clothes; having 21^st century clothes would make him stick out far too much, and he was going back to a time where being burned alive for witchcraft was a common punishment. Surely it might be better to not stand out and find out if people back in that time were more tolerant.

            Besides he would need to wait for a thunderstorm anyway, as the book said the magnetic field would be unstable and make traveling safe and easy. There was another benefit of the storm, as the machine should be able to obtain the needed energy from a flash as well. This was crucial as electricity was needed to deliver the power the gears needed to give the machine the necessary impulse to boost through time.

            It took almost two months of preparation. A tailor was able to sew him some clothes from another century, even though it would be remarkable how perfect the stitches looked for that time, he just hoped they wouldn't take such a good luck on him. Now he only needed to wait for the next great super cells as he didn’t want to risk a failure as they could end up being fatal. The motor needed enough capacity, he did his research. Most accidental time travels had happened before, after or while it had been storming. So he is sure the storms have a direct relation.

            When the time finally came around, Minjun felt like throwing up. The news man had announced the storm about three days earlier.


He emptied the refrigerator days ago and only nourished himself from take-away. He didn’t have the nerve to deal with other people and it didn’t change after his recent loss. The noisiness and cheerful faces were still painful to cope with. He preferred to be on his own which was given away if someone ransacked his bin. He brought the litter bag out before checking on everything one last time. Had he pulled out all the plugs and cut off the electricity in his house? He began mentally making a check list of everything. He had brought the plants back to his mother, as she was the one forcing them onto him. To make his apartment look nicer and healthier! She also got the spare keys to come over just in case something unexpected would happen. He left a map with a fictional drawn red route through Europe on the kitchen table so it would look as if he planned on where to go.  Officially he told his family and friends he would leave for a break and make a hiking trip through Europe. It wasn’t entirely false since that’s where he was trying to go, just not in this year.
 

Minjun went through his belongings one last time. He had herbs, salt, and gold nuggets since he wasn’t able to legally organize the fund used in old England nor did he know for sure where he would end up. Luckily gold was always desired and while not exactly worth a fortune, it would be enough to get by. He would just act like a noble salesmen from the east as nothing could deny his origin by the look on his face. Aside from a map he had let sit in coffee to make it appear older in case someone peaked at his belongings, he had a clock and a barometer. If he wanted to be able to come back one day, he better kept an eye on the weather since storms with enough electricity were required. 3,14 tettrawatt to be exact, which was a hundred-time more than terawatt and lot less than jiga. They weren't rare but still sparse enough to better not miss them. Satisfied with his check he took one last shower. He had already switched to natural soap and shampoo to not smell differently from the people he might meet there.
 

            Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all. He had no clue how his time traveling would affect his present. If he would stay away for five days would time pass here too? How were they connected? But he had no other chance to find it out then by doing. He had too, for his father. He clung to the copies he made of his father’s book, carefully placing them in an old leather bag he had found at the town’s flea market. His clothes may not have looked like they were very old, but they were definitely not out of this time. He wore very tight leggings under brown pants, a cream colored shirt with puffy arms, which was awful uncomfortable, and a  really blue with creamy flowers decorated waist coat, which tug the shirt onto him. Without that beautiful master piece he would not only look rather plain and boring but also his shirt would be too big in his opinion. Last but not least the most expensive heavy, dark blue, silk coat above it. He knew he didn’t look like the average farmer but more like a novelty which probably was better considering the treatment the poor received. It would be easier to remain undetected, or so he thought. He glanced at his reflection, satisfied with what he saw this time, grabbing his tricorn hat to complete the look. The only problem was he doesn’t have the confidence. He felt ridiculous like a mix in between a musketeer and Columbus. He would never ever make it to the car like this.

            Due to the nervous state he was in he felt like someone was choking him when he opened the garage. For the first time since he worked on it he saw its beauty in bold daylight. He hadn’t dared to risk anyone else seeing it. He designed it after the average look of an almost antique by now London coin box. Only from the outer look if someone inspected the payphone any closer they would detect that instead of a phone the inside became a steampunk paradise, with all the bronze metal gears and pipes. As Minjun wanted it to work it as manual as possible, in case he ended up somewhere without any source of power or electricity.
If he took a solid look he could see storm clouds forming northeast. Making the young explorer nervous as the wind currently still was warm southwest. Was the meteorologist wrong? Just when he was about to take out his barometer to check on the air pressure the wind tilted. As he never used the instrument before he had the knowledge of a beginner; a look at the instrument told him nothing at all. He had no idea how it was supposed to look different. Still he hung the barometer inside his cabin and assumed that the current measurement would be low, as the storm picked up speed. Luckily there weren’t a lot of things left he needed to do. His clothes were ready and had just been hiding them with a long coat which for now rested on the back bank of his car. The one he had just been precisely parking in the now closed and locked garage. The last and most dangerous step as he could hear the growling of the thunder from afar, was to extend the arrester which was supposed to attract the lightning.

            At this point he still didn’t know if this was even possible, trusting nothing more than a gut feeling. Of course was afraid but more than afraid he was curious and too prideful to give up so close. He would forever regret it if he didn’t try. This was his father’s project, maybe his last wish, and it was his duty as a son to complete it.
 

            His motivation speech to himself was encouraging enough for him to at least set food in his time machine. Despite being all manual maneuverable the inside reminded him of an airplane even though he had built it which caused him to be a little confused. Granted part of it was already done by his father, and he couldn’t tell if someone tried to destroy it again or if he just wasn’t finished yet. Checking the date he had set previously once more before he fastened his seatbelt and released the breaks. He actually installed an airbag in his vehicle together with a winged chair as a seat, as it didn’t have anything to rest at before. It gave him at least some kind of delusional hopes to make his travel less dangerous as he at least thought about safety standards.
 

            In the end it all was in the hands of luck, which he kind of liked; if his destiny wasn’t meant to be traveling then surely nothing would happen. He sat back trying to ignore the noises his stomach made out of discomfort. It suddenly felt like a small space to be imprisoned in for god knows how long. Would it work? If so how long would the travel take? Traveling years back, maybe he would age while traveling and reach his destination all dead, and was there a possibility to take a break? Maybe he would be imprisoned between time and space and would die from starvation.

            The first beautiful anvil crawler enlightened the dark clouds above in the sky. In his glassy prison he could see them very well. Suddenly he wondered if it was smart to use so much transparent material. Well his father did use bullet proof glass which should at least not be easily breakable, but would it withstand the pressure from the time tunnels? A second from a cloud to air flash illuminated the sky. So far so good. Maybe he will come out of this misery without ever finding out if it worked or not-
 

            A loud, ear piercing sound tore him from his thoughts, and as if nothing happened the storm just continued. His surroundings become dark as he was still dazzled by the incredible brightness of the flash that must have just hit the booth. It was hard to tell as the dark clouds blocked sky but he guessed that the sun also already had set. As his travel experience or better yet said the wait continued, he decided that next time he would bring ear plugs to muffle the sound. Apparently time travel could be louder than he had imagined.

            But all his worries disappeared after the first strike had hit him. Nothing had happened right? So maybe it was just a humbug and wishful thinking of an old man who clung onto every straw that might have extended his life. He knew it couldn’t be that easy to build a time machine, not in the way a normal person like him would be able to do it. Therefore he wasn’t to disenchanted conversely his other urges weren’t as control friendly and soon he became fed up with the situation. Note to self, if he should ever should do this insanity again; take an iPod or iPhone along to kill upcoming boredom. With nothing else to do he got exhausted from all the dullness of the same scenery. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep between bright lights which were annoying for him even when he closed his eyes. Especially since all around was glass. Sleeping mask, he thought, would be next on his to bring list. Surprisingly he fell asleep rather fast, though given the circumstances its not that weird as he hadn’t slept well for the past week due to rebuilding the time machine and developing insomnia from all the shock, sadness, and despair. He woke up because of the merciless tickles of the sunrays on his face. How long was he asleep for? He had absolutely no idea, and judging by the lights and surrounding area it must have been quite some time. The street had vanished, probably under that load of leaves that now covered the ground. But that didn’t explain the also missing barn. There were only two explanations for it. The first was it either had stormed so bad that it destroyed the place which was illogical as his lighter machine would have been damaged as well, or at least dragged along. Regardless of how deep a human sleeps, there was no way he could have missed it if something like that had happened. On the off chance that was the case, there would still be signs of damage around. Which leaves reason number two; the machine had worked!

            Bewildered he got up, and checked on his telephone cabinet. It worked, and nothing was broken. Well that was a good thing, at least the storm didn’t cause any damage. Which meant he didn’t need to sit down and repair it, whichever time he was currently in. He couldn’t do anything without finding out right?

            He looked down onto himself. He still those ridiculous clothes, and the bag he had grabbed and slung around his shoulder hung from him, but aside from those not usual way of appearing he was still the very same and it was difficult to set his mind on the possibility that it wasn’t the same time around him anymore. Well obviously he had at least missed twelve hours, since the storm had built up in the evening but now and according to his pocket clock, it was close to lunch time, which also explained the rumbling sound in his stomach. He had however absolute no idea in which century he was in. There was no way in knowing even though he had those wheels which were supposed to set the date he was traveling too. If they worked was still unknown to him. In the end he didn’t knew how it worked or why it worked, his father had been doing the heart part of the machine he was just fixing the outer case with help of the notebook. Without testing it previously there was no way in telling until he found a civilization.

            Fortunately he was smart to prepare a map and roughly drawn villages in it. Well for the 18th century this is. Just to be on the safe side he first started to hide his telephone cabin as much as possible while cursing himself that he chose such a flashy color, which isn’t easy to hide. Searching for long sticks and other covering material like the greenery of bushes and trees and fallen leaves to cover the branches. He was only satisfied when it didn’t looked man made from afar anymore, and looked more like a weird big bush. Taking out the compass, the Swiss army knife, and the map and started his journey out of the wood, or what he believed would be the way out of it.

            He marked his way by carving little notches with his knife, leaving out every other tree in the way deeper into the forest. He tried to walk as straight as possible with the help of the compass, but had to take a detour every now and then. After all he didn’t plan nor desire to stay here forever. However travelling through the woods doesn’t sound so bad. The woods were pretty clean and organized in the 21^st century. However these woods weren’t exactly how he imagined a forest to be. Thorny bushes grabbed his clothes, vines creeping along the ground building tripping hazards. Sometimes they were hard to spot as the ground was covered in foliage which made slopes and hills difficult to travel on. But it wasn’t just the plants were trying to attack him, but also stones proved to be perilous obstacles. As they came in all kind of sizes and structures. If he didn’t know any better he would think that the whole forest was trying to shoo him out. Even the ground gave in, going from dry and normal to being swampy and wet, which made it slippery and boggy and sticky without any warning.
 

            It wasn’t only Minjun who had to struggle, but the trees did so as well. Trying to take each other’s spot for the rare sunlight, while tendrils like vines and ivy creeped around their trunks playfully hanging down here and there to trail along a new victim. The older trees with their beautiful rich canopy kept the sunlight at bay making it difficult for new trees to catch up on them. The ambiance was somber and only a small view of sunbeams shed some light with the lonely human being. Under different circumstances this really old and unadulterated forest would have been a beautiful place to visit. Trying to capture the strays of light in picture, as to not forget those stunning and pure sounds were especially appealing to him. Almost as if the forest would hum. If only there was a way in and out without all those scratches and stings on his legs and sore spots on his feet. He craved to finally find a glade, or even better a street. Making another mental note to himself to not only take interaction with human beings in his planning. He should have prepared himself not only for the people that would await him in another era but also for the dangers from people, animals wildness, plants, and yes even insects. As stressful as it was to move ahead, he didn’t have much choice. As he walked onwards, cutting some branches here and there to make a little entrance for him, he kept an eye open for possible shortcuts and dangers.

            He never felt so relieved as the moment he finally spotted something that could be described as an early street. Part of it was plastered but it didn’t seem to be used that often as weed spread between the bricks.  Some of the flagstones were broken while others were immersed in the sandy ground. But he couldn’t care less as a street always led to somewhere! The possibilities of him being in the so desired past grew, and he got more excited. Even though a deep denial was still lingering within.

            Minjun kept following the way towards the direction he thought he had to go. Every now and then he would make a break to rest and check his dates, such as the needle of the compass and of course as well trying to figure where he could be.  Soon enough the sun shone from the other side as the earth as he continued to wander relentlessly. The shadows grew larger and created ghostly figures on the edge of the woods. No wonder most of those spooky fairytales about forests were written in the past. Even Minjun’s mood lifted when he finally left the woods behind him and came to the long and open farmlands in front of him.
 

            He was greeted by seemingly endless greenery and a bunch of curious sheep and goats. Just a little bit further down the hill was a boy laying down, biting on a longer culm. Next to him was a weird looking ball of fur, sitting proudly and overlooking the herd. The dog was a bobtail also known as an old English sheep dog. His fur wasn’t as long as his modern relatives. It had the same clumsy look that made this breed so charming but Minjun could tell the awareness of the dog. As he couldn’t know if the intruder had ill intention. Yes the dog, in contrary to the cloud gazing bored boy, was actually doing his task ensuring that the sheep wouldn’t run off in the wood and getting separated from the flock. Alarmed by the warning barking of the dog the boy’s head looked up And being irritated by Minjun appearance but apparently not a single bit bothered by it either. Probably because of his cloth Minjun looked more like a noble men than a farmer. The boy didn’t dare to interact with him as it would have been rude of him to interrupt someone else business. Minjun however waved at the boy almost excitedly, as he was just too happy to see an actual other human being!
 

            Embarrassed the boy nodded softly not really knowing what to do with the weird gesticulation of the stranger. A thought dawned on the young boy, a noblemen coming out of the wood, he must have been hunting and maybe fell off his horse. He might have been hurt and trying to ask for help. His next conclusion was that it was smart to help a wealthy citizen even if he didn’t like them as they often looked down on him when they passed by in their buggies. Too lazy to walk those bastards! But helping one of them would without a doubt benefit his family, even if it was just a few coins. As the summer had been dry and hot they had suffer a huge loss of their normal crops. The harvest just barely managed to cover their taxes, but there wasn’t a lot left for their own stomachs. So a dumb rich man in need came just handy.
 

            “Sir!” The boy jumped up, bravely followed by his obedient four legged protector. “May I help you?” Minjun didn’t miss the pause and how his eyebrows feeble moved when he spotted the English folk’s unusual and bizarre eye shape. Like boys are they always speak out there thought. “Is there something wrong with them?”
He bluntly pointed at his eyes:

“Can you even see with them half closed? Shouldn’t you try to make them bigger somehow?”
Ah yeah, he had completely forgotten that in the past ignorance and racism went hand in hand. Well this boy obviously didn’t meant to be impolite but simply didn’t know any better. As Minjun probably was the first Asian he had ever seen but still he couldn’t help but to feel offended by it. Well at least he wasn’t Spanish or French, he thought sarcastically.

            Even though he didn’t blame him for his offensive words he also didn’t trust this young shepherd one bit.
Of course there were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, from which year they are in, or if this street would directly go to the city, or if there were any taverns or guesthouses on the way, what the currency is, and much more.
At the risk of exaggerated prudence he listened to his gut feeling. Even though his mainly proud was telling him that he should be able to deal with this little twerp. Hey the boy probably was half his size, yet Minjun wasn’t confident in his combat skills. While this boy grew up in a time were a little bit of fighting know how even was seen as courteous.
“No, everything is alright. Thank you very much young men.”
He may have answered a little to hasty and stiff. But the earlier he would have some distance between him and the boy the better. It wasn’t any more reassuring that he could feel his eyes long after the encounter starring holes in his back.
Yes he was exhausted and hungry and he would have loved to make a little break even allowed himself to fall back in the grass and check on the map, to see if the outlines he could make out of the city in front of him where a match. But something pulled him further, because he was sure once he actually sat down he wouldn’t be able to get up for quite a while anymore.

            As he walked down the street it became more clear to him that he would never reach the city before nightfall. He was in desperate need to find a place for the night. His body was groggily dragging itself along just because he knew if he would take another break he would probably fall asleep right on the spot. Not a chance he was going to do so somewhere he knew nothing about. Okay he had an idea of where he was, but even assuming that his theory was true, he didn’t know a lot about it, except the few information covered by history books. As mind blowing as it seems to be, he was more confident to actually have successfully managed to travel back in time. At least the view on the slowly fading outlines of the city strongly resembled oil paintings he had seen.
Now it steadily became more troublesome to see anything as the night air cooled down creating fog in the area. It had already started to coat the city in its fine layers, tall buildings emerged out of the grey mist. The spooky scenery reminded him even more of one of those beautiful “romantic” themed oil paintings, a counter movement against the popular “classism”. Art always was a topic that inspired him- Hold on, he spotted another grey blur dance toward the sky. As the nebula was still imprisoned in the valley for a while it couldn’t have to do with this natural cause. Following the movement he easily spotted a barn and the haze emerged to be smoke. The stable must be burning. He didn’t think twice and just ran towards it as it wasn’t too far away just a little off the main street. After all a burning stable meant someone could be in danger, there could still be people or animals inside it. And if not, at least he didn’t have to struggle with reproaches.

            Where the strength to run come from? He had no idea but it didn’t take him half as long as he imagined before he was close enough to the burning shed to see the maids and farmers form a line to pass the water. Without questioning or asking he just lined up with them. In times like this everyone was the same and every helping hand was welcome. Passing buckets after buckets, some were small while others almost too heavy and big. Once he was more than eager to pass to the next person even though he felt slightly guilty about it as the one in line after him was a woman. In their time of need everything that worked as a transport case of liquid was welcome; even though they were passing pots after buckets unremittingly it still felt like David versus Goliath. What could a couple of humans even do against the odds? Apparently a lot, because the wall of fire slowly started to become fume and coal. They couldn’t prevent the damage but inhibited it from spreading with a combined strength and concerted iron will. Once the fire was kept at bay people started to take a break and switched places with the more rested folks. Only when the smoke died down did the people that had gathered start to disseminate back to their rightful assigned tasks. Leaving a rather awkward Minjun that soon found himself in front of a judging farmer. The glare however soon lifted, since Minjun’s effort didn’t go unnoticed. Gently and still with too much force for Minjun’s taste he patted his shoulder and gave him a little acknowledging squeeze. Hard enough for Minjun to inwardly flinch. If this was the thanks for helping out, he could clearly relinquish it.
 

            His legs had given in, as he was just worn out from this crazy day. Luckily the farmer spared him a cumbersome conversation for today and just took him in to rest. Probably hearing his loud complaining stomach, his wife took pity and warmed the leftovers from their supper for him. After eating the delicious meal he barely remembered anything. Like how he got up from the table and was brought to his sleeping place, as almost immediately sleep overpowered him. With the barn still being dangerous and half destroyed they didn’t have a lot of options for a guest to stay. They offered him a spare place at their living room alongside the tiled stove to make sure he wouldn’t feel cold tonight. Of course he was invited to stay for a bit longer than just breakfast, was even offered a job by the family as a new stable lad. Their hospitality and warm welcome flattered him and he was more than thankful that none of them asked too many questions about him. Such as where he was coming from, especially since his English already gave him away as a stranger. This was due to the fact that he couldn’t speak old English or learn the dialect spoken in the past. Some things just can’t be learned from books.
Yet he attempted to find out as many things as possible, without sounding like a mad man. Struggling to talk natural yet as formal as possible without sounding too cheesy or accidentally cursing because of frustration. Even if he tried to mimic their language it wasn’t nearly close enough to fool a native speaker. When they did ask how he ended up here, he created a story about him being a wandering trader from the Far East. His boat was captured by pirates and he could barely escape with only a handful of merchandise to sell. Ending the story with him needing to go to the city in order to go to the market and offer his goods, and maybe if destiny meant it, he would find a boat that would soon set sail towards the east.
Serendipity, the farmer headed to the city as well to fetch some nails begin fixing the destruction the fire made before the winter broke in. Thankfully taking Minjun along, he purposely had left two pounds of salt and 3 ounces of dried green tea leaves, knowing that they would never be able to buy that much of edge with their normal yearly salary. Just a little thanks for the kindness.

            He was more than pleased with himself, since his research came in handy and was worth the time. Pleased with himself, he gnawed on the dried meat that was given to him as food supply in exchange for some herbs. The goodbyes were short yet warmly and he only grasped later that maybe the interaction with the family wasn’t such a good idea. As he wasn’t supposed to be here, his action could leave consequences that could affect the future. At least that’s what he expected to happen after movies like Back To The Future.

            Maybe this wouldn’t turn out to be so bad after all. Maybe he should just start to enjoy the adventure and have fun. A lot of people would drop a huge amount of money to have a similar experience. After all he couldn’t yet rule out that this all was an extremely vivid dream. A coma like state caused by the flash maybe? He couldn’t recall seeing any lights or loops that would explain the shift in time.
It couldn’t be a simple dream however, because thing were very too real to be, like scents, noises and especially feelings. For all he knew this could also be the land between life and death. Who knew? He had come too far and the curiosity pushed him further, ignoring the saying curiosity killed the cat. There was still the mysterious note with an address and a time.

»St Michael's Churchyard, George and Vulture 8 o’clock august second Friday 1802«
»How to find a Vampire, hates salad and eye contact, always dress well, will know about the cure!«

There was nothing more on the paper that would have explained its origin or how it came into the possession of his father and now …him. He entered the city from the south east. This meant he wasn’t in the part of the city where one could relax and breathe through. It was the newer part of the city where thieves and ragtag would be found. Most people worked hard for their income, like the Blacksmith for example. One could say it was the early industry district without the huge fabrics. As ship parts were constructed here before being brought to the ship wharf on the other side of the river.
It’s part of the reason why a second and later third bridge became so necessary. As it could happen that such a transport would be at fault for first traffic jams. Since big parts needed to be handled with care and made a crossing challenging. If Minjun really would have been shipwrecked this part might have been interesting for him. Whereas Seaman’s folk was rather to be found in bars near the ports preferable along the river. Minjun desired location was just on the other side of the London Bridge. Although he was close, actually finding it was harder than he considered it to be. It was tucked away between a maze of houses and a labyrinth of dark alleys. He found the house by mistake, only to get his happiness shattered with the realization that the entrance must be on the other side. A bit later he excitedly entered the rather famous pub, which was even mentioned in Dickens writings. Once he sat down and asked for a porter, as he didn’t need to worry about payment anymore, he had found a venue during his stay. They didn’t ask many question and he was able to exchange his goods of herbs and gold nuggets to a fair amount of pounds. Not as much as he probably would have gotten somewhere else but he was willing to pay the price for discretion and privacy. It was pretty obvious that it was a bit of a shady business and there diurnal merchants were most likely grifters. At least he wouldn’t stand out as the trading guy anymore.

                It was rather gloomy inside, even though there were a lot of windows for a time where glass was still expensive and rarely used. Not as many as the inns in the present have but well enough for Minjun to take a note. This was due to the fact that buying oil for the lamps was pricier and only the wealthy people allowed themselves the benefit of using man made light to delay tasks in the evening such as dinning. Minjun had learned the other day that the family had already had eaten their meal together but out of thankfulness for his help prepared him some things to eat, in the dark.
Like most not as fortunate people would, for a pub owner however it was an infestation that probably was profitable. A lot of men sought for comfort and shelter after work, and if they couldn't afford light at their own home they tried to seek for an affordable alternative. As well as it almost became a social necessity to gather and share the beer o’clock together. Naturally the owner would have preferred people with a higher income, people that could effort his dear drinks. As he had to adapt his prices and bought drinks to the possibility and limits of his customer and make them affordable, in a pinch with a dash or two water.The dusky light made a huge part of charm those pubs had. It kind of reminded him of a gloomy Sunday morning where he could lie in bed for a bit longer till the sun would find her ways into his sleeping room. Even though he had blocked the light out with modern technology, some lonely rays would always somehow shine inside.. Only when he let his eyes wander for the second time did Minjun comprehend that the light has been dimmed on purpose. So even back then they knew how to lurk people to linger. In the broad daylight people would feel the responsibility to work kick in, not have time to sit around. It was a simple illusion created by the windows facing the dark alley away from the east where the sun goes up and dulled by a bulky and thick curtain. The surrounding houses definitely play a favor here, and now he understood why it had been so complicated to find his was in.
The curtains also made a huge impact to create the ambience and added a lot of charm and fashion to it. For a pub that is. The tables and chairs were all made of simple oak wood, polished with a good oil, to refine the wood and give it a darker complexion. His oil lamps were a mixture between whale oil and raps oil as it was a lot cheaper then blubber alone, though the whaling was still in his peak and petroleum wouldn't be found for another fifty five years.
Not that crude oil in form of naphtha hadn't been used before but it hasn’t been identified for its worth and miscellaneous capabilities yet. But whaling wasn't always successful and not dependable to deliver a constant supply of blubber. The fresh scene was palatable but it could quickly turn unpleasant. It was imixed with cheap produced vegetable oils, just as raps seed oil, which back then wasn't used to consume but used only as  machine oil, the whale oil kept fresh for slightly longer. The downside to mixing was the grime and the black lamp which required to be cleaned more frequently. It probably was the unidentified scent that clung in the air which Minjun couldn't identify earlier.
The taste of beer and rum lingered in the air, and the smell of sweat of the hardworking. Because the air couldn't circulate well in an angled room, it allowed a bulk of tables to be kept away from cold draught and stay in the warm but also in the old and heavy air.

                It was a struggle to not ask about the current date all day long and he almost caved into the desire of knowledge when his beverage got served. Almost through a wink of fortune he spotted the newspaper that hung on the wall.  “Thank you sir, may I ask for the newspaper too?”
 

                “Certainly.” The bartender answered peevish as he wasn’t really keen to do those extra steps back to the wall. He was a bartender after all and not a waiter, there were differences between a pub and a restaurant, mainly being that pubs don’t have service unless you pay extra. Nevertheless the accent, dress and face gave the stranger away to be a new guy, probably coming from one of those Chinese ships that docked yesterday. He must have not known the customs and practices yet, but he dearly hoped not to stay longer than necessary as he wasn’t really fond of having strangers that needed special attention in his shop, unless of course the stranger was ready to pay for his special care, preferably with gold. He brought the requested paper though he might have thrown the paper with a bit too much force and annoyance on the table than actual care.  But he was also too stressed to actually care about it. He returned behind the counter and poured himself some fine brandy, not the weak watery soup he served his customers. As if their numb tongues could tell the fine difference of class anyway, it would be a waste!
The front bell rung and annoyed he slipped the glass beneath the counter so no one could see or taste it. He wasn’t fond to be found out to botch his drink. Since some of his custom were known to have really nasty right hook.

“Owen, the guiness you ordered!” A male husky voice yelled from the outside. 

“Well well, if this isn’t you George, took you long enough!”
The owner went out to meet his colleague and speak about the beer the other had brewed. It didn’t go unnoticed as Minjun was busily absorbing anything and everything. He felt like a little kid in a candy store that found a door inside to a toy store! Everything seemed so surreal yet it was still happen, as if he had entered a theme park. Only instead of the usual western themed one this was set in old London. Yes he had already pinched himself and yes it had hurt, especially since at first he didn’t feel the pain until he added some more pressure to it. The pain had kicked in too fast and he got all teary eyed trying to bite back on the yelp. Of course he feared someone might have noticed which would have been ridiculous since most people wouldn’t pay attention to someone if not paid to look. Minjun himself felt like his oddness was so outshining that everyone else was blind to notice how out of place he was.
As if he was the only cube in a ball pool. Overlooking the fact that he sat in a inn and people in establishments like those were usually heavily alcohol drinkers and already drunk at this time of the day. Which wasn’t a taboo since the water quality back then was rather poor and anyone with at least a little bit of founds would better stay away then drinking it without some sort of filtering. Only the unfortunate would dare to gulp it down, a gamble with against deathly diseases. In a country were the national drink was either rum, especially for matelot as they got a daily ration of rum or for more common people porter and guiness that was firstly brewed in Dublin. Aside from alcohol of course coffee houses were popular in old England as tea was still only affordable for the wealthy. A luxury good and so popular that servant often carefully dried the leaves and resell them illegally for a second or third infusion. This would probably soon change judging by the sporadic appearances of Chinese seafarer Minjun past on the way. His fears were therefore irrational.

                A young slender man with a very expensive looking dark blue day suit entered the pub. He probably would have been greeted by the greedily eyes of the barkeeper if he wasn’t busy bargaining. Judging by the smooth texture of his wearing it was probably made out of poor silk, and had silvery ornaments embroidered on hemlines ends. He had put his head down and nodded at the gentleman who turned their head because of the entrance bell that rung whenever someone opened the door. The newcomer eyes the room gingerly, being fixated on Minjun before he went to one of the tables that was out of Minjun’s direction of sight.
 

                Minjun had purposely chosen a table in which he had the best view of the place; however this guy took his blind spot. There were a lot of reasons why someone would choose to sit aloof of others. However no reason seemed to be good enough to voluntarily sit on that table. Not only was it close to the facilities but also the first table one sees when entering the inn, so the whole purpose for sitting there wouldn’t make any sense. Unless of course he sat there on purpose to not be seen by him which terrified Minjun.
He fought the constant urge to turn around and check if he still was there, if he was looking into his direction by any chance. For some weird reason, probably from all the horror movies he had secretly watched as a kid, he felt as if he would look into a monster if he would. Not just some kind of monster and especially not the cute fluffy once, but the once that were more describable as part zombie. Decomposed skin, bones that would stick out at some parts, insects that would eat their way through the rotten meat and teeth as sharp as razor blades. Oh well, his teacher always told him he had a vivid imagination and he probably interpreted too much into his behavior. Perhaps he just had a weak bladder and preferred to keep close to the washrooms.

Trying to keep his body and mind busy, his choice of entertainment was the paper that still laid untouched in front of him. The original purpose of it was already fulfilled as he knew today’s date, but going to such lengths to ask for it without actually reading in it felt like a waste. Beside he had nothing else to do anyway, except to wait for something to happen he wasn’t even sure of.
He imagined it to be difficult to read the old newspapers, judging by how complicated they were written even today. To his pleasant surprise it wasn’t, they used the same kind of serif fonts like today and it didn’t felt too much different to read.
The main topic was about their new Allies as well as economic agreements. Alongside with some brief updates about the Napoleonic Wars with France and how they were always looking for courageous young men that were ready to fight for their homeland.
 

                A sudden dread overcame him and he thought, maybe it wasn’t the best time to stick around in the past, being a man in his prime at least. Besides in King George Kingdom even trivial crimes were harshly punished and often ended with death sentence. Hangings were common enough that they were a daily popular event. Minjun shuddered at the thought and kept reading the paper as he still searched for the answer about the time and date he had found in his notes.
There would be three hangings today, mostly for thievery, except one where there was no reason at all.
No marriage as no one was daring enough to provoke one’s fortune and choose such a dark day to tie the knots. After all it was Friday the thirteenth.  Today there also would be a masked ball to which Lord Earl of Twining’s invited. Lastly there was an update on the local happenings. Apparently for the first time after the rebellion in 1799 the Irish would take a part and sell their goods on the grand harvest festival in the fall.
 

                For Minjun this disappointing futile information didn’t make any sense, nor did it help him to solve the reason for his presence. The only thing he was certain about and could hardly ignore was his burning back. It made him itchy and also nervous that he almost spilled his porter by trying to take another sip. Not only to sooth his dry throat but also to calm his inner tumult. He was glad about the distraction of thought when the owner of the pub came back with a wooden barrel that he rolled towards the counter. Judging from his repining expression the finish deal must have been to his forfeiture.
As he passed the group of young but already obviously drunk men they tried asininely tried to reason with him to bargain the price of their drinks, probably thinking that it must have been a good day to do so. “C’mon Browning, we’re regulars now!” Owen Browning, the name Minjun figured the pub owner had judging by the people talking to him.
Even though they tried to back up their claims with reasons like low grade service because of them needing to wait for him, and being busy young men, they would lose some good old pounds by sitting around any longer. It definitely wasn’t smart to ask someone who just had to pay more than calculated, especially not to a cunning man like Owen Browning. He wouldn’t let any more money slip through his grasp. It took some cursing and threats but he eventually got every needed pence. Only after being half satisfied with the simple money he made, he brought his grumpy attention towards his new customer. Grinning stupidly to himself while passing his table, Minjun totally misjudged the situation behind him. It tricked him into believing that the customer must have been the reason for the mood change. Which meant the guy couldn’t be that bad right? Apparently the owner knew him so it might have been just a shy regular with a weak bladder! Or so he tried to reason while holding his breath to eaves drop on the conversation behind him.
“If you would be so kind as to serve me your best bottle of red wine sir.”
It surprised him, the calm multifaceted voice. He would rather describe it as a deep or low kind of voice yet it rung in his ears softly high and melodious.
A kind and positive kind of voice which made this man dangerous to Minjun, it was hard to distrusts someone with a nice kind of voice

                He didn’t hear any more noise as the group of men were now leaving and he wouldn’t really describe them as quietly exiting the building. A pity, not only because he liked the voice, but also because his curiosity took the best of him.
Carefully his hands found their way into his pocket searching between the shillings he had casually inserted before for a small piece of paper. He folded it open to compare the dates on the newspaper and realized that they indeed were a match. Now he couldn’t check on the time even though he had a pocket watch with him and in the 19^th century pocket watches weren’t uncommon anymore as they were invented by the English as early as 1675. But he was afraid of the attention it could draw towards him. He would appear to be waiting of something, which is true, he couldn’t answer the question if someone might ask what for.
Maybe he was paranoid, but judging by the strange situation he found himself in, he found his wariness to be comprehensible.

                Just then Owen brought a glass bottle of fine wine to the mysterious guy behind Minjun. He tried to focus, hoping that they might speak some more. His imagination started to go wild and he imagined them to be secret spies and this was a clandestine meeting to exchange reports or get a new task. Of course even he was sure that this thought was a bit wild and rather impossible. But then again was it? After all he was sitting somehow in the past nibbling on a watery porter.
 

                He was instantly distracted by the soft low chuckle which came from behind him. Almost too close. His reaction told him to shoot around and check the source of the voice, as he was almost certain he had felt the breath against his neck. But his instinct told him not to. As somehow he had this image in his head of turning around to look at a demon that lurked behind him. Then his composure was all forgotten when he heard the loud popping sound, it only dawned on him after he shot around like a scared deer that it was only the cork that had been plugged out by the stranger. But since he had already embarrassed himself he could risk to get a glimpse on him right?
There he sat his legs elegantly crossed, starring directly at Minjun; there goes his hope to stay undetected. But behind the warm delighted smile Minjun thought he saw something else, a cold and calculating side. This guy planned this right? It was a trap and he realized it too late. There was no turning back now as it wouldn’t make the situation any less awkward. So he could as well openly look at him as well.
He was a little bit pale, but he probably wasn't out in the sun very often, judging by the look of his clothes. He hadn't realized before but the daywear coat seemed to be out of pure velvet. Maybe he was a nobleman, but what would he be doing in such a low part of town? Searching for something, for him? No that would be too much of a coincidence right?
"If you are that curious come over and drink with me."
The man smiled at him charmingly. And there it was the urge to run away. Everything in his body tensed and he felt on the edge of danger, yet his brain actually told him that the man didn't send any threatening signals;  on the contrary he seemed very friendly and inviting.
"It’s rude to stare ya know, beside, I heard wine tastes better in company."
He smiled boldly, but it didn't reach his eyes, they still seemed to be scrutinizing him.
"Who are you stranger I haven't seen you around here, and what’s your name?"
What bothered Minjun the most at this encounter was that the other man had as Asian features as he had himself. Nerveless he spoke perfect with the same accent the natives had.
Dark chocolate brown almond shaped eyes, a rather big nose though, maybe he was a mixed? 
Perhaps he was the offspring of a slave or a servant with oriental origins?
But no, that wouldn’t explain the chic appearance and the natural lissome movements that were to graceful for a common citizen. Also even from afar he could tell the other robe was almost unnatural sparkling clear, not even his own robe was this stainless anymore.
"I'm sorry"
To entangled to his own observation, Minjun thought he just answered subconsciously. A mistake he would regret instantly after the next words slid over his tongue.
"Kim Minjun, my name I mean."
He bowed and inwardly slapped himself for not preparing a proper century and country suitable name that matched to the back story he had prepared for himself.
Why didn’t he thik about that much beforehand? At the very least a Chinese name as the city was full of them.
He was too much ensnared in his own mind to capture the look on the other’s face, missing the look of surprise that slowly faded. The stranger mustered him up and down still utterly bewildered before he nodded and softly muttered.
"I see,"
The young man broke the tension, just to create new one.
The man rose out of his chair only caring about the bottle of wine in his left and two globular bellied glasses in his right with him. All with a smoothness that resembled more of a cat than a human being. Also his fancy look was a paradox contrast to what he was doing. Minjun almost needed to picture a servant into the scenario as it just didn’t feel right that someone as noble as this man would carry something on his own.
 

                His casually yet effortless steps preceded him directly to the empty chair on Minjuns table. Astonished, Minjun watched him take a seat and delicately poured the red liquid out of the bottle in both glasses equally without a single drop spilled.
Mischievousness was seen in his eyes as he his lips playfully.
"Since you didn’t come to me, I guess I had no other choice other than to invite myself.”
He smiled amusedly, carefully taking the glass from the table. He swings the crimson fluid around in the glass but doesn’t take his eyes off Minjun’s even for a second.
"Well I see, you weren't the one I expected today, but I guess I don’t have any other choice than to play with you .”
He raised his glass towards Minjun and pledged to drink some before he spoke rather cheerfully.
“Lord Hwang Chansung, longevity to you new friend.”
He cheered before taking a longing sip from the nectar of Dionysus, or the blood of Jesus as the Catholics referred to it. Minjun politely followed the example, muttering something beneath his breath before he tasted the offered drink for himself. It wasn’t the best wine he had ever tasted and obviously Chansung thought the same as he didn’t look very thrilled as he swallowed the broth.
Instead his attention focused back on Minjun.
“So where are you coming from?”
Minjun used to be a good and skilled liar, partly because he could play along very well, plus he was spontaneously witty. He never had been in a situation where he felt like standing with his back towards a wall. Having no believable ideas forced him to tell the truth. Of course he had already had a story, the very same story he told the farmer family the evening before. But for some reason he felt like it wouldn’t be enough for his vis-à-vis.
He still had to try to come somewhat safe out of this encounter or else he was sure he would be hung here, because he was certain time travel would be seen as witchcraft. Especially now since the current King, George William Frederick, better known as George the Third, was in contrary to some of his ancestor a very pious ruler. He could pray for hours and was appalled about indecent acts such as misconduct from his brother. So Minjun knew from his quick research that he has been deeply religious. Definitely not the right date to be discovered.
 

“From the East of course, I came with the Chinese ship.”
Chansung raised an eyebrow and Minjun saw between his slightly parted lips the white flash from his teeth.
“I wouldn’t recommend you to try to deceive me.”
The serious tone and the stern expression intimidated the young time traveler. For a second he thought about  telling him straight the truth but wouldn’t that sound so much more like a fabrication?
Beside the number one rule of a good lie was to believe in your own untruth and to never falter until the fraud felt real.

“No, no sir I speak the truth. I was on the ship, a tradesman to sell herbs, when we were attacked by the Spainish. I mean where else should I come from?”

He tried to imagine the ship to make out more details, he would even tell him how the motion of the waves made him seasick, that should be proof enough right?
For Chansung however his plan seemed to be as transparent as glass as he calmly spoke.
“You are insulting me.
I don’t know where you come from but you’re definitively not from the sea. Your hair is to shiny and your scent isn’t the one of a river-rat.”
“Scent? Who are you Jean-Baptiste Grenouille?”

Of course since the book was written 1985 Chansung shouldn’t be able to understand the genius and accurate comparison.

“The fact that you don’t understand that the salty smell of the sea will always give away a true seaman already exposed you.”
Chansung spoke calmly; his eyes however were glued on the rest of the fermented grape juice.
Playing with it, letting it swap up and down the glassy prison.
He resembled a cat playing with its prey.
“And also I don’t like to be compared to a ludicrous murder; I prefer other names for my kind.”
Minjun was just about to get off the topic when he realized the meaning behind.
He gasped and starred at the man in front of him in pure horror.
“Who are you?”
He stuttered.
“My, my, aren’t we quite an impolite one, I already asked you a question and I’m still waiting for a correct answer.”
Okay this became spooky! He should have listened to his gut feeling and run away while he still can!
“Fortunately I like diversification, so I may forgive you this one time traveler.”
He smiled wickedly before he added rather playfully.
“How do you know?”
Minjun gasped surprised, realizing it too late that the slipped answer just gave everything away.

“Well you aren’t the first time traveler, ya know, but I have to credit ya, for preparing.”
His eyes were still fixated on Minjun, even while he refilled his now empty glass.
 

“Which means ya knew where ya would end yet you did. Impressive yet suicidal,”
Chansung muses, leaving Minjun with the same question he had in mind since the other invited himself to his table.
“Why? Are you that dangerous?”

“Let’s say everything here can kill ya, but I can do it most efficiently”
he whispered joyful.
“Then why are you helping me?”
“I don’t. I simply need something to disport time. Ya only have so little of it, yet ya choose to spend it in another time.”
His words hit the sore spot. Perhaps Chansung was right and it was a terrible idea to even try to travel, what did he hope to find for anyway? A mystical cure? And if he wanted to see his father so much he should have traveled back to a time where he was still alive. However he also suddenly felt very silly to be so daunted by another human being.
Okay his worst case scenario ended with him hanging from somewhere but people before him survived this time too right?
Taking his courage he looked up at Chansung, a person that seemed to know more about the situation he catapulted himself right into then he did himself and might have the answers he longed to know. Searching for anything that may tell him more about Chansung he searched for his emotion by actually starring back at him. Only to discover that the other lowered his gaze slightly.

Now that he thought about it, Chansung never directly stared at him, he watched him, observed him but there was never eye contact between the two of them.
The next thought Minjun had was something like a shower thought. He wasn’t really sure why he asked or what he expected as an answer but he did it anyway.
“Do you like salad?”

He didn’t need an answer, the grossed out expression was more than answer enough.

“I search for a vampire and I havethe feeling you might be able to tell me where to find one.”
He almost though he had scared the other away but instead his smile lingered on his lips, but this time he took a notice of his sharp teeth.
“Vampires? Huh, never heard of it.”
He spoke almost too innocently.
“But I will repeat my advice to ya, ya should worry more about yer own safety then spending yer time finding a woolgathering.”
Notwithstanding this conversation any longer Chansung got up. Seeing the mood shift, Owen begins to approach the guest. In contrary to Minjun who didn’t hear Owen coming, Chansung seemed to be very aware of him. As he skillfully allocated him in the same movement as he got up and out of his chair
paying the exact amount of coins the bottle cost, forcing it into Owen’s palm.
“As I think that ya already added yer tips on the goods. And yer lucky I’m paying that insult of a drink, the bottle was already opened and laced.”

                Of course Owen Browning wouldn’t let someone yell about the quality of his alcohol, but he knew better then to anger this man.
“It must have been a mistake on my side, I will do better next time yer visiting.”
He tried to reason but Chansung wasn’t having any of it and instead ignored the bartender to proceed to exit the inn. Minjun couldn’t do the same, as he needed to search for his coins before getting up. He took a last glance of the table, and the full glass of wine that hadn’t been touched after Chansung had filled it again.

                If the wine was indeed diluted, he couldn’t tell. It tasted like a fine though cheap wine; it wasn’t the best but also not the worst. Either Chansung had a far better sense of taste, or he was acting up to escape. Minjun rushed after him after paying his own bill, but it was too late as Chansung was nowhere to be seen. If he indeed was a vampire he would probably avoid the sun which might be an important piece of information he could use to find him again. Running after a phantasm of his father yet he couldn’t let the possibility to save his father just slip by. London might not be its current size; it was still big enough to totally get lost in it for days. Well to his defense he did find him, just not the way he expected it to happen, as a short pain went through his shoulder by being forcefully pushed against the wall. Chansung came up close, his lips.
“So ya’re offering yer self to me, how very kind after that trashy kind of grape syrup I sure feel hungry as hell.”
His voice was kept down and more a whisper, yet it ringed very loud in Minjun’s ears as his lips were only a millimeter away from his ear. Naturally even if it was embarrassing if the other just toyed with him he would have screamed as loud as he could. However that wasn’t possible as Chansung’s hand was firmly pressed down on his mouth. If there even was a hand. He wasn’t too sure anymore as focusing became extremely difficult and soon he couldn’t feel any pressure anymore yet he was unable to move. What kind of trickery did the other man use?! Dread mixed to hysteria and it wasn’t calming at all to feel the lips of a MAN at his skin. It was disgusting and he couldn’t feel the touch but they had to be there because he was aware of the piercing pain of teeth that broke through the skin and flesh. The pain wasn’t dulled out at all this sadistic !

                When Chansung spit the blood out in an outrage, he was very sure he was as satisfied about it as he felt offended. The vampire’s eyes were piercing him with a shocked and sickened expression. Something was off, or wrong.He couldn’t pinpoint it because his head was spinning worse than a playground mini roundabout, the ones that made a stomach turn upside down very quickly.

                The next thing Minjun knew he somehow ended in a hackney, the English word for hacquenée, a commonly type of carriage in the earlier 19^th century. A closed up carriage to protect the passengers from the weather conditions, something like the first precursor to the modern taxi. Or in Minjuns case closed up to ensure he couldn’t jump off. Of course it was reserved for the wealthy part of society as the common townsmen wouldn’t have the money to pay for a ride.  Even though Minjun didn’t consider himself as wealthy. The scenery that passed by on the other side of the tiny window was indisputably beautiful. It probably would have felt even romantic under other circumstances with another company. But for now he was just happy that he didn’t needed to walk that far.  Even though London wasn’t as big as it would become eventually but one couldn’t exactly say it was in his baby shoes either. Walking would have been not only time consuming bur probably even dangerous. Because as Minjun spotted the street-light lighter were up and if he focused his gaze towards the sky this task made absolute sense. The sun would soon set and the night fall in. The horizon already covered the rooftops of the city in a bright red, nightfall was coming. Twilights sure were stunning even though it was slightly more scary right now. For the latter though his current companion wasn’t really that inculpable. His legs were still mushy and his neck felt a throbbing pain, he was alive and that’s probably something he should be thankful for. But who knew how long? Beside where exactly they were heading to was a mystery to him as well. However that problem that would be solved naturally as soon the horses that pulled the hackney came to an abrupt stop and the doors were opened.
“Welcome back me Lord Hwang”

            Minjun sat in one of the comfortable wing chairs in the living room. “So you’re a vampire?”
He asked awkwardly and as silent as possible, as if it was supposed to be a secret. But judging by the pale face of his servants and the stern serious look on their faces, he was almost sure they were either dead or better yet said undead themselves. Yeah he had heard story about the blood ers from his father and books. But oh boy the skin of a vampire didn’t sparkle at all! He felt incredible lied too, even though he always found that thought ridiculous and was glad that it wasn’t a real fact about them. He was also sure his father wouldn’t want to be turned into a fairy vamp.
“After all that happened and ya still question my identity boy?”
Luckily his host was still entertained by him rather than annoyed. He got a feeling that it was better to not find out what vampires are like once they were pissed off.
“I have a favor to ask you!
Please come to the future with me and turn my father immortal!”
Chansung mysteriously doubled colored eyes averted away from the neat fire place and the blaze inside. Appraised by the spit and crackling sound it was a kind of coniferous timber, considering the pleasant and almost therapeutic smell, his guess was a pine. It doesn’t seem to have any relaxing effects on Chansung as his temper didn’t seemed to be soothed.
“Why should I?”
He asked sternly yet was just as startled when the man heard the strident chinking sound of breaking porcelain, followed by a soft chuckle, leading the man to turn their heads to the beautiful woman behind him. She was delighted by the rebuff Minjun got, and her mood changed as soon she realized the displeasure on her Master’s face as Chansung clearly wasn’t happy about the broken cups. Embarrassed, she tries to fix her mistake, but he shooshes her out and deals with the shards himself.

“Thank ya Fei, please leave us alone for now.”
Minjun would have to admit that was indeed very  nice of him, if he wasn’t too distracted to watch the elegant women disappear. Soon his attention went back to the vampire again
“Why not? Do you have anything better to do?”
Chansung rubbed his temples now regretting to have taken pity on the prey he couldn’t even eat because of the disgusting taste of his blood. He almost vomited on the spot, and it was surely almost a miracle that spitting it out had been enough.
So his suspicion was true after all.

“It’s just some blood exchange between you and my dad, and you don’t need to stick around after.
 I don’t know what the fuss is about, a single bite and you’re done!
That can’t be too complicated! And I swear you can have as much of my blood as you desire, I mean as payment!”
The single thought of the taste of the blood itself was enough the let Chansung shudder.
“Garlic forbid. Thanks, but no thanks!”
If Minjun would have paid attention to the vampire he would have seen his nose crinkle and his hair rising. He didn’t however and missed that the vampire was everything but greedy to get his blood. “Okay if you aren’t willing to come along, just give me some of your blood then!”
Demanding something from a vampire must have been suicidal in a way, yet Chansung didn’t give off any dangerous vibes at the moment as he was still on his knees picking up broken fragments.

“I’m certain I’m having a deja vu” he mutters before getting up and filling the new cups with the rose hip, hibiscus tea and a squeeze of lime – unsweetened. Minjun on the other hand needed three teaspoons of sugar to make the sour bitter taste bearable. He didn’t even question the connection he must have had for such an unique tea back in the time he lived in.
“So do I understand that right, ya came back from the future, to get me too comeback with ya to  make someone immortal?” Minjun nodded, excitedly having his hopes rise high as Chansung started to speak about it. It would only be a question of time; it wouldn’t be so difficult to get some drops of blood right? A pity he hasn’t cut himself earlier or else he might have already reached his goal.
“Forget it, it’s bad enough how easy humans take this decision. You can’t just become immortal and enjoy yer ever after life. Immortality has a high price and it’s bad enough to turn a normal human being into one but someone who can’t even decide for themself. Nope I’m not going to do that.” He crossed his arms and glared at him and regardless how stubborn Minjun tries, Chansung would not give in.

 “Listen, Man-made vampires, or shall I say Vamp-made vampires will never be the same as a born vampire. They may age slower but they aren’t immortal. Beside what good does immortality bring if you can’t share it. It’s a curse, not a cure.
Beside a vampire has difficulties to handle their blood thirst, it’s almost an impossible instinct to control. Especially for a made vampire without any assisting drugs”
 
                He wanted to be strong this time around. It should have been easy, he had never seen him around the age Minjun had now. But in the end the human still found his weak spot and sweet talked him. “Okay deal if I survive, I promise I will help you save your father.” It wasn’t like him to lie but sometimes the circumstances demanded measures that were against his principles. At the beginning he found it hard to look at him, regarding their resemblance but he learned quickly how different they were. This was astounding given that they came from the same genepool.

                Minjun stood for a while, well not that he had any other plans, and he had to wait for a storm anyway. At least he had enough time to explore the city and also the mansion Chansung resided in. He learned a lot of interesting facts about him and his life there. His favorite flowers apparently where Chrysanthemum and his yard was full of them in different sizes and colors. He preferred to feed from women as they were a lot quicker to recover from a man. Also apparently their skin was softer and easier to break through, not that it made any difference it was just a preference of him. To his delight he even became friends with Fei, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. He was almost heartbroken when suddenly one evening it became time to leave them all behind.
The air pressure dropped rapidly implicating that a storm was on its way. Because he hadn’t been warned earlier their goodbyes were rather short and hasty. But back then he also thought he could always come back whenever he pleases. How wrong he was.
 

            Anger rose in him as he found the time machine broken and the notebook gone. After searching for the latter in every possible hideout he just felt helpless and worn out.  Was he really that careless and forgot it in another time?! Well at least he did feel something, his inner self thought ironically. Not that sarcasm made it any better; it still helped to cope with the current situation. Of course movies had taught and prepared him that he might come back to a very different present time. As if he traveled to an alternative parallel instead. Not that he dared to complain, there was always a price open has to pay if he plays with Pandora’s box. 
But there was still hope. The impossible might have already happened and Chansung was just playing hard to get. Once he would come home he would have a voicemail from his father if he doesn’t comes over for dinner, or he would casually see that his name wasn’t Minjun yet!

            Suddenly eager to wrap up he didn’t really care about the bundle of trash anymore, but he knew he would need to correctly dispose of it someday, like his mother actually had wanted him to do from the start. But for now he was too excited to find out what changes the world might have gone through. How long was he away for and how was his father had been doing?
Usually Minjun belonged to the people who thought of themself as pretty patient, yet he almost couldn’t wait to get home. Accidentally speeding here and there he drove directly to his parents’ house.
Almost storming inside to find his brother sitting on the breakfast table looking utterly confused.
“Minjun?” he asked awkwardly still not used to the name yet.
But just those few words were enough for Minjun to kill his hopes at their roots. He wouldn’t be called Minjun if his father was still alive. The only way was if they didn’t know who he was and that sounded surreal even to him. If his father would be alive the first thing he would have done was to contact them. He always was needy for keeping close contact. Because he said he had learned his lessons from his own father’s death, it will always be too early and come off as a surprise even if there was a long illness beforehand.

            It dawned on Minjun to even know that his father must have gone through the very same pain himself, a little bit earlier maybe but still the same. Things have its way of repeating itself; maybe he created the time machine to save his father? Like he wanted to do? He felt the sudden urge to visit his grave, as he had the feeling that he might find some answers there.
“Sorry Seojun I just wanted to ask if you wanted to visit dad with me,”

But seeing his younger brothers twisted feeling about it he quickly clarified.

“I think I’m ready now, you know to move on. I’m okay, don’t worry anymore.”

His brother who had laid down the spoon who was before midair, eyed him carefully seemingly deep in thought.
But when he found no sign of lying he shook his shoulder and muttered musingly. 
“I think we both know that that’s something you have to do on your own. 
But if you ask me again I might just say, I’m done with it. I don’t want to go, I’m not living in the past Hyung.”

            It was never fun to be lectured by his younger brother. Sometimes however it seemed to be necessary, for example when the older brother selfishly disappears and makes them all worry.
He smiled at him apologetic before he nodded.
“You’re right, I got it.”

Before moving over to him and tousle his hair, of course not without loud protest.
“Ah! Stop it you’re being a pain in the !”
It sounded only half as mean as he used to, probably because he was just to relieved to have his brother back.
“Tell mum I’m sorry and give her a-“
he stopped and moved down, just to meet the in shock winded eyes of his brother

“Don’t you dare!”
But before he could even finish he had already a big wet kiss on his forehead.
“I really hate you Hyung!” He whined while Minjun giggled. “pass it on to mum!”

            Before running out of the house, suddenly feeling so refreshed and new born he had never imagined that it would be so nice to see his brother again. The experience he gained on his short stay in the past, it surely felt as if he was away for years.
On the way to the graveyard he made a brief stop in a flower store, to buy a bundle of flowers.
Yellow roses, orange marigold and in the middle a beautiful draped bird of paradise flower; simply because those were his father’s favorite flowers. Luckily the florist in charge was very skilled and made the bouquet in no time so that eleven minutes and forty-five seconds later he was already parking his car. Today they weren’t many other cars.The same car that had been standing on the day of the funeral. He had thought it might have been one of the pastor’s, but since today didn’t seem to be a funeral that made no sense.

            There was no way he would forget such a weird and primarily short car number 7 54 . It also meant that this person either paid a fortune for the number or had relatives who bought one of the first cars …

Suddenly a thought hit him, and he almost forgot the bouquet on the driver seat as he hurried back out of the car. But because he also forgot his car keys and realized that detail when he didn’t find them in his pocket, he had to go back and also grabbed for the flowers.

He ran up to the cemetery, ignoring the signs that said to not do so, in order to not disturb other visitors. There wasn’t anyone except one person here anyway.

            Seeing a familiar back on the grave of his beloved father he suddenly felt anger raise in him.
“I knew it”
He yelled, and stomped with heavy steps over to punch the other one who swiftly made a step to the side so Minjun just hit in the air.
“If it helps ya to calm down yer allowed to hit me, well at least once, I’m not too much into that kind of stuff.” The same grinning face. He hadn’t aged a single bit.

“Wow.” That pretty much put him off guard. “If I didn’t knew it any better I would think ....
you were still in your late twenties.”
He murmurs more to himself, but as vampires had a very good hearing of course it didn’t go past Chansung.
“Well I have a very good skin-care routine, thank ya for asking.”
“I didn’t ask.”

He answers sharply, only to be even more irritated when he heard the other laughing.
“You have no right to be here, why are you even here?! And more importantly, was it your car I saw at the funeral? Were you there too? Or is it just some ty time travel effect and I now remember stuff that didn’t happen in the first reality? And  ̶  ”
“Stop, I can’t answer all of those question at once so will ya calm down please.” Chansung digresses away from Minjun, this time the other followed his gaze back to his father’s grave. How impolite to make a ruckus on a place where souls were supposed to find their peace. Not that his anger just disappeared, no he was still boiling and not just in the pit of his stomach. 
“If it pains you that much why didn’t you just help him?”
He huffed but a lot quieter then before. Not really expecting an answer anyway, this guy was a master in speaking riddles.
“Because your father and I were very close friends for a very long time”
As the words passed his lips they slightly started to move upwards, probably because of a lost happy memory dawning on the Vampire.
“And also because I’m the one who killed him.”
Minjun was almost ready to forgive, ready to hear the story behind it until the words hit him. They caught him by surprise and for a while he could only stare at him in utter shock.
It felt like hours before finding his voice again
“Why...? Why would you?”
“Because he asked me to.”
Chansung plainly answered as if it was the most natural thing someone would do. Well given that he was a blood er he might have a lot of experiences in killing people. He might actually speak the truth to a certain degree. Except for the part where his father had asked to die, that was impossible. It couldn’t be his, father had still hopes and dreams and never was suicidal. He always wanted to live!
 “As if!” he spit furiously to his dismay in contrast to Chansung as he just stood there unaffected. He even had the guts to just continue his speech, as if someone had asked him too!
He didn’t want to hear it; he didn’t want to be feed by lies. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to walk away, nor to cover his ears.
“Humans are very fragile beings Minjun, they do a lot of things I can’t understand when on the brink of death. In his case however I understood, he was in devilish pain, and a day without painkillers wouldn’t have been possible. Beside he knew what you obviously have forgotten.

He wouldn’t die as long as ya live.”
“Cut this lives on in your heart crap, I’m not a little kid anymore!”
There were a thousand and two scenarios how Minjun tried to murder Chansung right here on the spot. He didn’t try them out because he was a reasonable human being and thousand and one of those imagined scenarios didn’t end well for him. With ending in prison as the best case scenario.
Yet he felt mocked and not taken serious and it surely was one of the worst feelings one had to face.
“You misunderstand, you are your father!”
If Minjun thought he was confused until now, he had no idea what the word even meant anymore now. Though he was sure that this piece of information screwed him up more as anything he had experienced in the last couple of months. Yet oddly enough it made sense somewhere in the back of his mind, something tinged. He was on the brink of death, he remembered how he grew up in hospitals. He couldn’t remember much, yes his father often visited him telling him about adventures he would eventually be able to have. But was the guy he shared the same name with really his father? Well naming the first born after himself wasn’t arare tradition but something was definitely off. The cure, the cure mentioned in the book, wasn’t for his father, but for him. But why did he remember it now all of sudden?
“He wanted to save himself, and adopted you as his own son, who was supposed to die.
Yet by changing the timeline so much, things changed. You see I couldn’t allow the machine to exist any longer.” After that he just left. He turned around and went his own way. 
As much as Minjun wanted to chase after him he didn’t and couldn’t. The new knowledge kept gnawing on him, like his mother’s name was Wang Feifei, and seemed to be an older version of the beautiful girl Chansung had as a servant. His father and him shared the same birthdays, and names. Mere coincidence, or was there more to it? He would never find out the whole truth except of course he would build another time machine. He wasn’t confident in doing so before but now he was certain he had the knowledge. He just wasn’t ready to do so yet and pay the price that could come with owning one. Maybe Chansung was right after all and the world was better off such things… Despite the fact that it came from a vampire and he wasn’t too sure if the world really needed those either. 

After this turn of events, life came back to its normal routine, with no magic or adventures, just the same routine. Except for the first time he had visited his father’s permanent site when he spotted an additional little line on the gravestone. “Until we meet again, my friend.” Even though only Chansung came into his mind he had never seen the Vampire again. Yet whenever he visited his father’s grave there was a new blooming chrysanthemum.

History repeats itself until we learn the lesson that we need to change our paths. History repeats itself yet in such cunning disguise that we never detect the resemblance until the damage is done!

    By Sydney J. Harris