How intriguing.

The simple word “beautiful”.

He could say, “those flowers are beautiful”

Yes, yes, just like how one would learn in kindergarten.

Or he could say, “what a beautiful sound”

Indeed, the songs sung by birds are unparalleled to any sound in the world.

Just like the one echoing in his ears right that moment.

A cage.

In which perched just a single Bluebird.

He stood over that ornate cage, watching the bird sing its song.

As it sang, he couldn’t help but notice that something was amiss.

And slowly, the song changed.

It was no longer one that was chirpy, like a fresh spring breeze.

Instead, it became one that was mournful, like a gloomy shower.

It sang and sang and sang, fluttering around the cage.

ah.

Birds don’t belong in cages.

Birds belong in the skies.

Flying.

Freely.

Happily.

As he reached for the cage door, the bird stops singing completely.

Watching and looking intently, following his cautious hand.

Upon contacting the cold metal, the bird releases the most ear-piercing screech and pecks violently at his hand.

He notices the blood on his fingers and even before he could try and stop the bleeding with his sleeve, the pain intensifies tenfold.

Pain, that shoots up his arm and fills his entire body.

Collapsing to the ground, his eyes tightly screwed shut and fists tightly clenched over the injury.

He only hears the mad fluttering of the caged bird.

“You’re not breathing again, Jinyoung-ah.”

Breathe in.

The pendant.

Hold.

A septate figure.

Breathe out.

The air is salty and the wind billowing against his clothes is cold.

He stands on a cliff overlooking the sea.

He turns behind him and sees a forest.

And softly from the forest, floats a tune.

what a beautiful song.

Subconsciously, he backed away from the cliff’s edge and entered the forest.

 

The feeling of weeds cut at his bare feet.

The feeling of bark gripping against his palms as he followed the humming.

…this voice…

With a step over a log, he meanders down to what appears to be a river bank.

The river has receded and all that is left is a rocky stream.

He steps lower until he is right by the water’s edge, the flow ebbing at his toes.

In the gleam of the sunlight that filters through the leaves above he notices an object wedged between the rocks, splitting the slow flow of water.

Bending down, his hand breaks the surface and pulls the object out without much resistance.

In his grasp lay a triangular titanium pendant:

the source of the melodic humming.

And in his vision, the image of a palm tree:

the owner of the voice.

gasp.

 

Immediately there was a rush of water and the water filled the banks rapidly, flooding around Jinyoung.

His shock moved his feet even before he could even process the situation.

He scrambles and lands back among the trees, seeing the river slowly stabilise and once it does, flows slowly and without any disturbance like before.

Crack.

The sound startles him