[September 16th, 2019]

Byun believed it was his time to die. His temples pounded, and in all of his years had never experienced a pain so harshly as so. 

His eyes were tightly shut, his hands on the side of his head, an attempt to get the pain to fade. He felt smooth, cool ground beneath him, and although his eyelids were closed, he could sense bright lights before him, as if he had fallen asleep out of doors again, and the sun had been positioned at high noon, beaming down harshly upon him and battering his skin and eyes.

Byun felt himself collapsing in upon himself, as Oh during his fits of coughs. He began to slowly open his eyes, his lids continually fluttering open and closed again, staring at nothing but the dark fabric of his clothing. 

“What the ?” a voice wondered aloud. It was a new, unfamiliar voice, with an accent alien to Byun. It was similar to Park’s but not, and the owner of it used language likewise to his, utterances that made Byun feel vazey. But Byun knew that to be false more than anyone, for Byun was a well-educated man, who had not only completed but excelled in all of his eight years of schooling, and had even attended secondary school and had done a year of schooling in both Prussia and the United States of America. 

Something prodded at Byun’s back, and he turned over, promptly retching at the cursed touch.

“Ew, oh my God, I just cleaned.” the voice said again, clearly disgusted. 

“Leave him be,” another voice said, and to Byun it sounded much like Park’s. “It’s not like he’s used to this.”

Byun’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he was shifted by what felt like a pair of hands so he laid on something warm that jabbed into his shoulder blades. Slowly, weakly, Byun opened his eyes, peering up into those of Park.

“Good morning.” he told him, and Byun slammed a hand over his eyes, groaning.

“I feel that I must be passing on,” he sighed. “For I have seen an angel and the Great White Light that Mr. Oh has also come so close to, close enough to touch. I always believed I would survive longer than him, as I have a lengthier education, an abundance of wealth, and more health than he, but whatever strange dream I must be entranced in has surely come to kill me.”

Park laughed from above him, and Byun felt whatever was below him shift, and concluded that he must be laying in the lap of Park. It was strange to him to be on this end of such a position, as when Mr. Oh had come close to the Great White Light, Byun had done the same for him, petting his head until his consciousness had returned and Yerim could spoon feed him small bits of food, and Byun would work with Yerim, the only rare moments they got along well, as they both worked hard to nurse Mr. Oh back to substantial health, only for him to fall ill again a few moons later, and the two would again grow distant during this time, just to have them repeat the process again - both the process of caring for Oh as they raised his health again, but the process of feeling comfortable with one another. One would think that when such a process is as lengthy as such and repeated so much over time, that the two would learn to be familiar with one another for long periods of time and outgrow such a stage of awkwardness, but alas, something in Byun’s soul always made him feel strange around Yerim. At first he believed it was because she was a mere peasant who worked for him and he had such amounts of wealth in his possession, but even after when he swallowed his pride and overlooked such, the feeling still stayed with him. He feared that perhaps it was he whom made Yerim feel uncomfortable, but he had no ideas on how to go about fixing such an issue, and she made no effort to change it or bring it up, and so Byun left the issue as such. 

“Turn the lights down a little,” Park said, not at him, but at the other voice in the room, whom Byun was still unsure of the identity. “Close the blinds or something.” 

“WJM-0522, dim the lights, please. And close blinds three and five.” 

“Lights dimming…” a third voice spoke out, yet another one Byun did not recognize for many reasons. He had no face to associate such, and the voice was not like his, or even those of Park and his company. This one sounded as if someone was speaking into a tin can. “Blinds closing… complete.” Although his eyes were closed, Byun could tell the world around him was darker. Slowly, he opened his eyes, taking in the new world around him.

What Byun once thought to be the Great White Light was, in reality, simply white ceilings and floors and large privat square windows that lined the top of the walls, almost as if they were in a military trench. The windows illuminated the room greatly despite their height. It was an unusual design to Byun; homes where he was from had large windows that took up much of the wall space.

“Your time is all balderdash.” Byun sighed. Park was indeed hovering above him, and Byun made no efforts to move from his lap.

Park laughed. “You make no sense.”

Byun still laid in Park’s lap for a moment, adjusting to his new surroundings. He finally let his gaze land on that of Park’s company. They appeared similarly, in accordance to dress. The one man was taller than not only he, but Park as well, who compared to the other men Byun knew, was already a giant. The man wore red tartan, which he paired with denîm. His hair was swept up atop his head in a strange fashion, as if he had run his fingers through in frustration so many times it just remained like that. The other man - if that’s what you could call him; he appeared like a man, but an element about him was strange - seemed as if his clothes were attached to him, and his clothing was not made of regular fabrics, but out of something that should not be used to make clothing, but his entire body seemed to be made out of it. 

“What the have you done?” the tartan man asked. He leaned forward onto a table, his head in his hands, and he stretched at the skin in stress.

“He wanted to see if I really was from the future.” Park shrugged.

“That doesn't mean you bring him here!” Tartan shrieked. “, Yeol, ever heard of the ing butterfly effect?”

“Of course I have, I stan LOONA.”

“Stan LOONA?” Byun asked. He knew he was in a new time, the future, but he figured it difficult to comprehend, and it was strange that the language had still evolved this much. 

“That’s not important right now,” Tartan said curtly. “You bringing this man back is going to set off an array of events… God, Chanyeol, you’ve probably brought along an early on-set apocalypse.”

“If anything, I think I’ve delayed it.”

“I’ve seen enough sci-fi movies to know you’re like, totally wrong.”

Byun pulled himself up into a sitting position, still blinking away the bright lights. “My deepest apologies for my horrible entry,” he began, placing his right hand on his chest. If he had a hat, he would remove that as well, but as he was previously in the comfort of his own home, he lacked one. “I hope you are well enough to allow me accommodation. I would also like to take this moment to introduce myself; I am Mister Byun Baekhyun of ----shire, and I assure you that I am a wealthy man, in possession of not just many riches but much knowledge as well. I have studied overseas in America, as well as over in Hungary as well. I have spent a small amount of time in both Prussia and the Province of Canada, but not much of a topic of importance there.”

“What the is a Prussia?” Tartan asked, squinting at Byun, and then turning to Park, who shrugged.

“Prussia?” Byun raised his brows at them. He knew he was a higher intellectual than them, but he thought that their governesses would have at least taught them basic geography. “The country? Where the city of Berlin is?”

“Oh,” Tartan seemed to understand what Byun was saying now. “You mean Germany.”

“What is a Germany? Do you perhaps mean the Ottomans? The Dutch?”

“Oh, he way old.” Tartan told Park.

“I believe what you are feeling is: culture shock. Would you like a definition?” the strange man asked. He had remained silent the majority of the time, and his speaking reminded Byun of how strange and alien this new time was.

“I’m fine,” Tartan waved him off. “But this ain’t culture shock, this be some new .”

“My apologies, sir, but it appears I am having some troubles comprehending your speech.” Byun tried his best to dumb down his way of speaking so the blunderbusses would understand him.

“I am Kris Wu.” he spoke loudly and slowly, much like Park did upon their first meeting. However, Park spoke normally with Byun now, as normal as their speech would get. Park still had the speech of a cumberground, which often confused Byun, but he was in the process of learning to shorten his speech so it was easier for the men.

“Enchanté.”

“Oh my, he’s French now.”

“Well, languages is a useful skill to have, sir. For a man well versed in the arts of language is well versed in the arts of the world.”

“And a poet,” Wu muttered, “Anyways, we gotta figure out how to send you back to your time without screwing too much else up.”

“If it is any trouble sir, I do not think I’d quite like to return.”

“What?”

“I do not want to return to my own abode, my good sir.”

“You gotta,” Wu told him as if it were obvious fact. “You can’t stay here.”

Byun frowned. “Is there something I have done to exude your welcome? My deepest apologies from marching in unknowingly like so, but I assure you, I have an invitation from Mr. Park here. You see, I would not even be here in this time period without him. I owe him my utmost thanks - perhaps you shall return to my abode with I and I shall have Yerim fix you up something sufficient.”

“I’m good, but thanks,” Park declined. He was growing to more so understand Byun’s speech, despite how lengthy it could get, often without Byun realizing how long he had been speaking for. Park than turned to Kris, tilting his head upwards to make eye contact. “Let him stay for a little bit, won’t you? He didn’t come all this way for nothing.”

Wu sighed, coming over to kneel next to Park. Byun, who was now standing and feeling more balanced now, began to make small movements; he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, lolling his head from side to side, stretching his arms out and back. Wu removed the pocket watch attached to Park, bringing it back over to the table he stood at.

“I’ll let you have some time,” Wu started as he fiddled around with some objects on the table, including the wrist-pocket-watch. “I’m going to go see Junmyeon, now that we know that this thing works. When I get back - sans Junmyeon - you have to send him back. You can’t tell him much, nothing that will mess up life as we know it more than you already have.”

“Deal!” Park leapt at the word of it. “Do you need help?”

“I’m fine,” Wu handed a large syringe off to the strange man next to him, who stood up stiffly, grabbing Wu’s arm in a way that seemed like the strange man had never studied anatomy and didn’t know how the human body was able to move. Byun believed he was in a room full of men who had never received basic education - perhaps their families lacked the funding for governesses, or even means of basic public school. “He’s got it. Just watch me just in case, okay?”

“Will do.”

Kris Wu disappeared before Byun or Park (or even the strange man) had the chance to say anything else.

“Now, pray thee tell,” Byun directed his speech towards Park. “Does the Qing Empire still detest the English? For I moved here to Britain for a reason, as did a number of other people, my friends; Mister Oh Sehun.”

“The Qing Dynasty? That ’s long gone. It’s just China now. And I don’t really know? A lot of us Koreans are still moving west; Junmyeon and I came here from Korea and Kris is from China, but he’s been here way longer than I have. He lived in Vancouver for awhile.”

“China.” Byun tried the name out on his lips, Korea being a familiar name already. “And who is this Junmyeon Vancouver you speak of?”

“Junmyeon was Kris’ boyfriend. He moved here with his family when he was young. And Vancouver is out over in British Columbia.”

“We have our own Columbia? Say, I do not know what a Columbia is, but it must have done us well to have one of our own.”

“It’s just like… a thing, not really anything special. But we’re up here in Canada, now.”

“Have we renamed ourselves from Britain?”

“No, two different countries. Across the pond, as they might say.” Park looked lost for a moment, and patted around his body, up his torso and hips before producing a black box that fit nicely in the palm of his hand. It lit up, and lots of small pictures were displayed upon it, and when Park touched it, it moved.

“You must be a witch,” Byun found himself whispering as he watched Park tap around on the box. “Do not fret, I will not burn you at the stake. Your secret is safe with me.” 

“I’m not a witch,” Park laughed. “Just a phone.”

“A phone?”

“Yeah, like, something you call people on.” Park waved the box in his hand as if that would clue Byun into anything, make him understand. 

“So no need for telegrams, than?”

Park laughed at that again, ducking his head. Byun liked the sound of Park’s laugh; it was like sunshine was a sound within a human body, and even the rays leaked out as he lit up when he laughed and his eyes shone when he spoke. “No, no one’s used telegrams for like, a kajillion years.”

“I do not know what a kajillion is, but it is hard to fathom that we are that far in the future from my time.”

“A kajillion is an overstatement. It’s 2019.”

“I would think that two hundred years is still a lengthy amount of time, but not as lengthy as a kajillion.”

“Look,” Park held his ‘phone’ up closer to Byun’s face, so Byun could see the way it lit up. The box depicted a map, brightly coloured rather than the plain-looking ones he was so used to seeing. “We’re here,” Park’s pointer finger hovered over one spot, a country up north, a larger landmass than Byun was accustomed to. If not for Park’s instructions and explanations, he would have thought that it was almost an entire continent on its own. “This is Canada. You came from here,” he dragged his finger across the Atlantic Ocean and pointed to something Byun finally recognized - Britain.

“That is where I live, along with Mr. Oh and Yerim and our other friends.”

“Yes, yes. Exactly there. But, you were born here, in Korea.” Park dragged his finger even further across the landmasses, gesturing to a small country coloured differently than those around it that stuck out from where Byun was used to seeing the Qing Empire. 

“We are our own country now?”

“Split in two, but yes.”

“That is quite strange. I believed you had travelled far, but I have covered a two moons journey in a matter of seconds. I see now that I may not be the intellectual man I claim to be. But I am very much grateful to you, my good sir, as I would never be able to not only just arrive here, but adjust to this new world without your aid.”

Park reached forward, taking Byun’s hand in his. He didn’t say anything, and for once there was no need to - Byun understood what he was saying. It was difficult to understand what the other was trying to say at times, with the vast, vazey differences in their speech, but Park’s actions held all the words he needed.

Byun moved a little closer to Park, leaning his head on his shoulder.