A five year old Youngjae sits in the backseat of his parents’ car, his father at the wheel with his mother sitting in the passenger’s seat.  Soft music filters through the speakers while Youngjae watches the countryside pass by in a blur.  His parents are having a quiet discussion up front, but Youngjae can't hear them.

“Are we there yet?” he whines as he strains against his seatbelt, his small body readjusting his position in his carseat.

His mother turns in her seat, a small smile on her youthful face.  “Almost, sweetie.”

Youngjae huffs as he turns his attention to the window.  Trees, all he sees is trees.  

The day is clear and bright, the temperature perfect enough to have the windows rolled halfway down to let fresh air filter inside.

“C’mon, Jae, we need a break from the city,” his father says.  “Besides, don't you miss grandpa and grandma?” He looks at his son from the rearview mirror, waiting for a response.

The young boy grumbles out, “Yeah.”  He wiggles in his carseat again; his is starting to go numb.  “Why do we have to go to them?”

“They're getting old, Youngjae.  The trip into the city is too much for them,” his mom answers.  “And your dad agreed to help fix up the old barn.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Youngjae groans.

“They've got a lot of land to play on,” his dad replies.  “You won't be bored, son.  I promise.”

Youngjae sits back as his father turns down a driveway.  The driveway itself stretches down a long dirt path in the woods before it opens up to an open field, and the dirt becomes gravel.  He parks in front of the old two-story home, which Youngjae has been told used to be a schoolhouse.

“Finally!” Youngjae cries, his tiny hands working on unclasping the seatbelt.  “I have to pee!”

He struggles with it, and it isn't until his mom helps that he's free.  Youngjae darts out of the car and up the steps of the wooden porch, knocking earnestly on the front door.

His grandmother opens the screen door with a smile, and a fat gray cat rushes outside past their feet.  Youngjae hurriedly tells her a rushed greeting as he runs inside to the bathroom.

By the time he relieves himself, his parents already had their things sitting in the living room.  His parents are speaking to his grandpa in the kitchen, and his grandma is nowhere to be seen.  He joins them, gravitating towards his mother.

“Better, hun?” she asks, and Youngjae nods.

“Well, if it isn't little Youngjae!” his grandpa exclaims, squatting down a bit to be at eye-level with his grandson.  “You're getting bigger every day!  I barely recognise you!”

He hides behind his mother’s leg, gripping the material of her jean capris.  “Hi, grandpa.”

His mom affectionately runs her fingers through his short black hair as his grandpa goes back to talking to his dad.  

“Why don't you go outside, Jae?” she offers.  “Grandma is in her garden.  She’ll watch you if you wanna play.”

“Okay, mom,” he agrees.  He slips out of the kitchen to head for the back door.

His grandparents own vast amounts of land, most of which is woodland.  As far as Youngjae knows, they didn't have any neighbors for miles.  The house sits on a clearing with fields sandwiched between woods.

Youngjae exits the house, the back porch squeaking at the extra weight.  Hopping down the steps, he waves to his grandma, who's tending to the vegetables in the garden by the side of the house.

The young boy runs around the backyard, imaginary creatures running with him.  Dragons and knights are locked in an epic war with Youngjae himself leading the charge.  The longer his fictitious war goes on, the closer he gets to the edge of the woods.

As he goes for the final blow on the Dragon King, he trips and lands on his chest.  His elbows and knees are scraped in the process, but the injuries didn't hurt him.

Youngjae sits up, examining the wounds on his knees.  He then looks over his legs to whatever he fell over.  He spots a lone white brick in the slightly overgrown grass.

“Where did you come from?” he asks, stretching to pick it up.  It's heavy for him, so he drops it almost immediately.

Off to the side, not too far from where the brick lays, is a well.  It's hidden from sight by a tree, and the weeds and vines growing around it make it easy to miss.  The well is mostly intact:  the small roof overhead is slightly crooked, and there isn't a bucket for water.

“Grandma!” Youngjae calls, darting up to run towards the garden.  The elderly woman hears the call, acknowledging her grandson when he skids to a stop in front of her.  “Grandma, there's a well over there!”

He points in its general direction, and his grandma glances over to where he's pointing.

“Oh!  The old wishing well!” she exclaims.  “I almost forgot about it.”  She lets out a breathy laugh as she turns back to tend to her carrots.

“Wishing well?” Youngjae questions, plopping down next to her.

“Yes, a wishing well.  It's been here for a long time, Youngjae.  Even before the schoolhouse,” she answers.  “They say it's magic, and all you do is make a wish and fulfil a request, and your wish comes true!”

“Really?!” Youngjae exclaims, eyes wide with excitement.

His grandma nods, but before Youngjae can dart off, she tells him, “It’s getting a little late, sweetie.  Why don't you go wash up for dinner?  You can make your wish tomorrow.”

Youngjae’s face falls, but he does as he is asked.  As he walks back into the house, he looks back to the well from the back porch.

“Yeah, tomorrow!”