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Namjoo awoke when she heard movement. Her entire body ached from sleeping against the wooden bars all night. sleepily, she only straightened upon realizing a guard was opening the door. Her heart leaped assuming they were being freed.

Until she noticed the rope dangling in his hand.

Her jaw dropped, petrified. Standing on wobbly legs Namjoo backed up into the wall. “Don’t touch me!”

She flailed her arms. Punched and kicked. None of her attacks seemed to cause any injury. Chanyeol finally awoke when she was pinned to the wall. Hearing her screaming he peered into her cell.

“Leave her alone!” he screamed. Shaking the bar cells, “I said don’t touch her! I’ll kill you! Stop it!”

The guard dropped her onto the ground. Namjoo grunted, face in the straw that smelled like urine. Rolling over onto her back she groaned. Then she heard the guard unlocking the door to Chanyeol’s cell. He, too, fought the battle like a wounded animal. But he went down faster than she did because of his leg.

Namjoo struggled to wriggle free when they were both led out. Weakened from a week long run and starvation she lacked the energy even though she had eaten last night. Injured Chanyeol was incapable of properly putting up a fight. The guard handling him literally dragged him across the yard she snapped at him, but she was ignored.

In contrast to what she expected, they hadn’t been held at the local prison ward. They’d been transferred to a governmental prison. An execution platform stood at the end of the yard. Calling for them. Four hooks hung from the top bar with nooses waiting to be used. One of them occupied with a spinning item, probably to show them an example of what their end would look like.

Gravel crunched underneath their footsteps. The sun burned harder. Namjoo’s fear heightened up when they neared the platform. Unable to stall or run now. No way to fight. Her wrists were bound again. So tightly her palms rubbed.

Approaching Namjoo noticed that what had looked like a spinning mannequin was not it at all. The man hanging had been tied up with rope that wound around his torso. Disabling him by pinning his arms to his sides. Just hanging there by rope. His broken neck made his head droop. The person was a limp form dead for days.

Namjoo refused to move further, but the guard pushed her forward. Eyes widening, she gazed up at the spinning man. Swaying with the unnoticeable breeze. She had to look. She had to.

Namjoo didn’t recognize him until they were shoved up the stairs onto the platform near the stools they would be forced onto.

Collapsing onto her knees in horror, Namjoo screamed. Cried. Flailed. Belted out a gut-wrenching sob. Knocking over a stool as her brain shut down.

Minseok was really dead.

Minseok was the hanging man.

Minseok, the man that always came to save her.

Dead.

Namjoo’s scream echoed endlessly. Ringing in her ears. She couldn’t seem to stop.

“Shut up!” A hard slap caused the world to turn white momentarily.

She hung in the guard’s grip. Silent. The white landscape dissipated slowly. Becoming the white gravel yard warmed by a sardonic sun beam. Blinking when she heard Chanyeol sorrowfully muffling his cries.

He, too, had fallen. His shaking form broke her heart twice over. She glanced up at Minseok who hadn’t waited for them.

Chanyeol’s best friend.

His second in command.

Thinking of all the times he had grinned in his silly fashion. Lighting up her world with the humor no one else possessed. A skill only Kim Minseok possessed.

Their lost composure made the rest of the work easy for the guards. Easily lifted onto the stools they fixated the nooses around their necks.

The head chief of police who magically emerged before them started reading off a list of their crimes. Nothing transmitted through Namjoo’s brain.

Aware this was the end.

They were going to die.

She screamed when Chanyeol’s body flew up disappearing from her side.

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“She’s awake! She’s awake! She’s awake!”

Deliriously coughing, Namjoo blinked. Spitting out water she pushed herself up. Lost. Confused. Dazed. Bewildered.

An unrecognizable face peered down at her.

“Ma’am,” she called. “Ma’am. Do you hear me?”

Pushing herself up, Namjoo heaved. such a deep breath in she sounded like she was dying. Clutching her chest, she looked around. Spotting the pool on her right. Medics hovering around her like dark shadows. The house keeper fearfully staring at her wide-eyed.

A hand touched her shoulder. Namjoo jumped shocked. “Are you ok? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Struggling to get a grasp on reality, Namjoo pressed a hand to her forehead. “No, I’m…fine.”

Standing, Namjoo found her way inside. Up the stairs to her room. With the standing mirror. A fluffy bed. A window consisting of the night view.

In the center of the room Namjoo felt her life spin around her. Her modern life. There in the closet where her clothes hung. On her vanity where her jewelry remained. On the night table where the photo she’d taken with Chanyeol below the Alps sat.

Namjoo turned away. Robotically found her way to her bathroom and stripped out of her wet clothes. The shower came on with a noisy hiss. Scorching hot water washed over her. Namjoo in another shaky breath, a half-sob.

Squeezing her eyes shut she fisted a hand.

She was home.

She was home.

She was home.

Drying off, Namjoo crawled into bed. Sinking into the familiar warmth of her blanket and slept like a baby.

She woke up more calmly than she expected, but held her arm up to verify she was still in her pajamas. One look at her sophisticated bedroom spoke present time. It was still the 21^st century.

Getting up, Namjoo brushed her teeth for a long duration of time. Stared at herself in the mirror to certify she was real. She was here in this time and age. Yet something about her eyes looked different.

Lifting a hand up Namjoo pressed a palm against the mirror. Rubbing a thumb over her cheek.

Something…was different.

Blinking Namjoo turned around and dressed. Blankly climbing down the stairs, passing the kitchen on her way out the front door. Like usual Namjoo slipped into her business heels and walked out. Driving to work with the windows rolled down. Allowing the wind to tousle her hair. Taste the exhaust filled air. Eyeing the skyscrapers and towers; the many vehicles flanking her.

Men and women completing the usual route to work. Carrying handphones, bags, and accessories. Each absorbed in their own business because no one else was more important. A honk of the horn and Namjoo stepped on the accelerator to complete the drive to work.

Arriving to the glass building that loomed into the air. Striking the sun like a needlepoint. Leaving her car Namjoo entered through the sliding doors. Appreciative of the technology that made life simple. The convenience of it was gratifying.

Namjoo received numerous greetings on her way in. Respectfully nodding in reply Namjoo pressed the button to the elevator. The machine hummed as it brought her up to her office. The large maple desk where she conducted her business. A shiny black company telephone on her right. Always prepared to pick up whenever a call came ringing.

Today, Namjoo sat in the comfortable leather chair that had cost her over $500. Staring at the documents in front of her. Staring at the dozen buttons on the company phone. Staring at her cup of pens.

She was numb.

Unable to feel an ounce of emotion.

Nothing zipped through her brain.

It was a wonder how she was functioning.

So, this was her life. Work. Home. Work. Home.

Tracing her hand over the leather binders waiting to be opened she wondered if she should, if she would. Slowly trickling her fingers down Namjoo rubbed the edge of the binder.

Reminiscing not of the hours spent devoted in this office but of the bathhouse. Where she had woken lost and confused.

What was wrong with her?

Why was she thinking of this?

She was home.

A knock on the door infiltrated her thoughts. A head poked in, “The meeting will start.”

“I’ll be there,” Namjoo replied.

Deserting everything, Namjoo rose and left her office. Sitting through the meeting with her father on her right. The room draped in darkness because the projector was on. Namjoo watched each slide transition into the next one. Yet nothing processed through her brain.

By the time the room became bright again she was on her feet and shaking hands with other men. She couldn’t recall why.

“I heard you fell in the pool last night,” her father spoke below hearing level when they began walking down the hallway ten minutes after. “I’ve been telling you we should get rid of it. Now seems to be the good time to do it. You hardly use it anymore.”

The old man walked off shaking his head.

Always shaking his head in disapproval.

Turning on her heels she made the trip back to her office. Shutting herself in she walked toward her desk. Sitting back down. Staring at the documents. Staring at her phone.

On impulse, she rubbed the back of the smooth machine. Almost picking it up when the door opened and a secretary walked in. Politely bowing.

“A message came for you.” She handed a white paper warm from the machine to her. For a moment Namjoo merely clutched the sheet. Then finally dropped it, grabbed her bag, and swiftly walked out.

Fear feverishly beat in her heart during the drive. Her destination didn’t pulse through her brain. A magnetic force seemed to be magically lulling her. Shooting her past busy street side markets. Buildings clumped together. A world filled with life. The entire time Namjoo gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white.

Where she was headed, who she was going to…

The car came to an abrupt halt. Namjoo remained sitting. Trying to gather her thoughts which none came. Pushing the door open Namjoo took a stride forward. Pausing to stare up at the looming hospital building. Lowering her head with pursed lips she pressed on.

It wasn’t difficult discovering the elevators, but for a long time Namjoo lingered in front of it. Timidly turning away when the lift arrived and people walked out. Then she would stand in front of the elevator again. Staring at the buttons that would either light up or not. Stepping away when it opened and more people filed out.

Did she?

Would she?

Could she?

Namjoo pondered. Guilt flooded her. Many things jot through her mind.

She was nervous to see him again, as if years had passed and they had lost touch. He didn’t know her any more than she did him.

Strangers they were.

Pressing her lips together Namjoo stepped forward to touch the button. Her insides curled up like snakes while waiting for the elevator. Where would she start? What exactly would she say? The elevator arrived with a ding.

This was it.

There was no turning back.

The empty box waited for her. Namjoo’s gaze locked on the silver walls. Only stepping in when the doors threatened to close. Once inside her eyes glazed over the buttons of choice. The number she pressed glowed like the orange setting sun she had once watched. In that faraway land she would never see again.

Thank goodness and also…not.

Her eyes slipped toward the floor instead of watching the numbers on the screen increase. Then the doors hissed open and she was here.

The suite that led to his room.

Hushed voices resonated from down the hallway. The corridor shortly stretching forward. An intersection cut left. Another one on her right. A nurse with a metal cart had stopped to chat with a friend by the oval reception desk. Namjoo observed her blue uniform and glanced at her business outfit. Nothing that resembled hers.

Sinking in the fact that she wasn’t a servant anymore, Namjoo blinked and looked around. Getting a grasp on reality.

She was home.

The 21^st century.

Clutching the strap of her purse she slowly stepped forward. Heart palpitating. Insides quivering. Her pulse shot up. Her nerves tensed.

She had long thought of this.

Imagined. Planned for the things she would say to the man who wanted to spend the entire rest of his life with her. The one loyal man willing to stay with her.

“Just always be with me.”

One step forward and hesitation stopped her. Namjoo clamped her eyes shut to steel herself. Tightening her hand into a fist she swallowed the unease creeping under her skin. Finally moving toward the closed door Namjoo compressed her lips. Not knowing what to expect on the other side.

An emotion so strong she couldn’t put into words surged through her when she gripped the silver doorknob. Slowly sliding it open. Unveiling, on the other side, her boyfriend Park Chanyeol lying on the hospital bed. Unconscious. Unhearing. Unmoving.

Tears burst from her eyes. Standing in the doorway. Unable to go to him.

She shouldn’t have come.

She shouldn’t have.

Her hand trembled. Wounded. Covering as she cried out. Shutting her eyes as the dew drops slipped down her face.

This was him.

The Chanyeol she had come back to.

Stepping inside Namjoo closed the door. “I’m here. Did you wait a long time?” Gasping, she cried harder.

Chanyeol neither stirred or woke up to comfort her while she stood there sobbing.

He couldn’t even hold her hand.

Don’t take him a part of her pleaded. She still wanted to spend the next few years with him. She was willing to give up her position at the company. She would change.

She would.

Just the way the general had given up everything for her.

Chanyeol who had crossed lifetimes to come to her.

This time…this time she would love him more. Why had she realized it so late? Why was she only seeing this now?

Finally sitting down beside his bed Namjoo glanced at the machines hooked to him. The oxygen machine. The heart machine that kept track of his heart beat. The tangy lines weak but steady. Yet Chanyeol never moved.

Namjoo wept. She shouldn’t have stalled. She should have dove in after him when he fell into her pool. Why had she been so cruel to him?

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked grasping onto his hand. It was cold. A little warm. “I’m so sorry.”

But Chanyeol didn’t reply.

He didn’t tell her it was ok.

He would forgive her.

They were ok again.

Don’t take him.

Don’t take him.

“Why won’t you wake up?” Namjoo cried. Clinging onto his fingers. “Wake up.”

He never did.

***I said in the forewords the past and the present isn't different. She loses him both times. Ok now I have to go cry myself to sleep

***Now that that's sad, it seems she always loses him lol like in Substitute Soulmate