Age 6

 

“HEY,”

 

“Ah, I see you have noticed my appearance and needed to finally understand why it is that I seem familiar to you.”

 

 

The young boy chortled, laughing loudly at the oddly dressed woman who said that to him. He kept shaking his head no. The laugh just kept growing and so he could not form words coherently for a few breaths. Puffing up his cheeks to stop the laughter; he calmed. The mirth of a young, ignorant child was very evident.

 

 

“Uh, no. I don’t know who you are ahjumma. I just know my parents told me to tell you to stop setting up your weird palm readings in front of our store. Thanks,”

 

 

He started to skip away after relying his message, seeing how his mother watched him from their café window, but the woman spoke once more.

 

 

“You’re not who you think you are.”

 

 

The young Seokjin spun, slowly and tilting his head to the side in utter confusion at her words. His tender age made him even more confused on what she could possibly want to say to him. He wasn’t who he thought he was? He was sure that he was Kim Seokjin, the second child of his parents. He had recently turned six at the end of the year. What more did he have to know?

 

 

“When you were young, you met someone who has changed your life. You are different. Not like them, not like us.”

 

 

Different? Seokjin turned his large, round eyes to look towards his mother who had stepped out of the café, walking towards him. He thought he was very much like his parents. He looked like his brother too—with small differences. The lady in front was odd, wearing flowing skirts, covered in bangled jewelry with large hoop, gold earrings. She almost looked like a cartoon character. What was her name? He recalled seeing the movie. The Hunchback of Notre dame and the lady was dressed similarly to the character, Esmeralda. It was all his mind was helping him piece together.

 

 

Yet, something about the woman was intriguing to his young mind. As he continued to look at her, her odd similarity, he found himself falling into her eyes. A vision of people he didn’t know began to enter his mind. He didn’t know, although they felt familiar. Older. He stared into a mirror—he was older. A clearing of woods, a small lake with a shimmering woman, a small taunt and slap to the face. Another woman—beautiful but cold. She wore black, a fishnet veil with long gloves covering her hands, a dark red lip.

 

 

Seokjin felt his arm be yanked back in a rather painful way. A small cry escaped his lips. It was his mother, anger in her eyes as she shooed the woman away. He couldn’t really hear her. Her words muffled and lost to him. He still felt in a daze. A human with a dark, black growing mark on his neck, turning into a wolf. His small mind was conflicted; coming down back to earth once his mother shook his shoulders, speaking his name faintly.

 

 

“What did she do you to you, Jinnie?”

 

 

He didn’t see what she saw. Her worry evident in her voice as she watched her youngest son’s eyes glisten, clouded in faint film of what resembled the night sky. A spell. He was under some spell.

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

A sigh of relief escaped his mother’s lips as she took him into her arms the moment Seokjin blinked, his eyes back to their chocolate brown. He was six. He didn’t get carried around as before. However, his mother cradled him in her arms as if he were younger. “I shouldn’t have sent you to see her and tell her to go away. I should have known something could have happen. Avoid them, Seokjin. Avoid them all, the supposed magic folk.”

 

 

He merely nodded, not knowing why he felt like he needed to listen to her.

 

 

“You are normal, Seokjin. You are human. You are normal.”

 

 

 

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

 

 

 

Age 7

 

“OH, is little Seokjinnie scared? Mommy not here to protect you. Where’s your big brother, Kim Seokjin?”

 

 

One thing he never understood was why they bothered him. Why did the school’s richest boy in his class, bother him? He kept to himself. Usually under a tree, reading a book. He was quiet and reserved to himself. He liked to make friends like any seven-year-old but talking in front of people or crowds made him shy. Simply put, he was too shy and into his own shell to really go out of his way to make friends. He did have a few, here and there. None of them dared to go against the school bully. Cho Sungkwan, that was his name.

 

 

Seokjin, regrettably had to close his book as Sungkwan spotted him under his spot, on a slight hill, under a big oak tree. The boy smirked in his direction as he moved forward with his goons. The taunting starting even before he was in front of him.

 

 

The irony of the entire situation was, he wasn’t scared. More than anything—by now—he was simply annoyed. Kim Seokjin had had it with Sungkwan and his consistent bullying. He was well liked by adults. He was well behaved, quiet, smart, and kind. Countless of times his parents would receive praise from raising such a prim and proper child. So, why couldn’t Sungkwan see that and leave him alone?

 

 

In his tender age, he knew that he wasn't necessarily different, but he also wasn’t normal. The words uttered by his mother more than a year ago rang constantly as a reminder. A sort of mantra. He was human. He, Kim Seokjin, aged seven, was human. A plain and simple—albeit slightly boring—human boy. That was what he was. Nothing more. Nothing less. However, Sungkwan seemed to not share the same sentiment.

 

 

There was one thing different about Seokjin. He was shy like any other child that leaned towards the introverted spectrum. He was rather artistic and perceiving. Just because he was quiet, it did not mean he was dumb. For his age group, he was also a little brighter, smarter, than the rest. Everything mentioned wasn’t what made him different. What made him different was the scar he bore in the back of his left ear. It was there for as long as he could remember. More than a scar, it looked like a birthmark. A muddy brown spot, as if splatted haphazardly. Lately, it had started to bother him—itching and burning at random intervals. Even more, whenever Sungkwan was around.

 

 

“Ah, always hiding your nose behind a book. It won’t make you any smarter.”

 

 

Sungkwan was in front of him, sneering as he had taken his book and threw it across the field. Seokjin watched the book fly, opening as the pages fluttered across the sky before landing face flat, on the nearby puddle. He was patient. Very patient. Always taking everything in that Sungkwan threw at him. Every jab and snide comment. He sat there, stoically and sometimes smirking as well. Whenever he did smirk, was when Sungkwan’s taunts would turn physically violent. One too many times, he went home with bruises and cuts.

 

 

“Why don’t you protect yourself, Jinnie? It hurts mother to see you like this.”

 

 

He wanted to ask her the same thing, knowing that Sungkwan’s own mother was a customer in their café, a very rude customer that would take out her distaste and dislike towards his mother. The apple truly, did not fall far from the tree in the Cho household.

 

 

“I liked that book.” Seokjin spoke, monotonously as he looked longing to where the book had landed. He had newly gotten it from the library. “It may not make me smarter, but you could sure use opening a book once in a while. Your brawn will only get you so far. Where it fails you, your money will come in, but even then it won’t make up for your lack of intelligence and talents.”

 

 

He was eloquent. Too eloquent as Sungkwan stared back at him baffled by his word usage. It came with the reading. The lack of friends. All the hours in the day he spent with himself, inside his head, getting into another adventure and story that was better than the life he seemed to have been gifted.

 

 

“Ha, hahaha, ha … are you calling me stupid?”

 

 

“If the shoe fits.” was his brief reply, having stood and still looking towards the book. He wondered how damaged it would be and if he his father would have to pay for it—to keep the damaged book as his own.

 

 

Seokjin only took about three steps forward before his collar was pulled back with an excessive amount of force. He gagged, feeling how the yank of the collar brought the front to harshly hit his thyroid cartilage, making him cough in pain and shock. His hand instinctively flew to hold his sore and tender throat. Soon, he was on the ground, covering his face with his arms as Sungkwan began to lay punches. He didn’t want to bruise—not again. He had just healed from a blackeye. The bully continued his attack, his show of greatness because he was stronger and just plain mean. The punches turned to kicks. Seokjin groaned, his stomach receiving endless kicks. Seokjin knew the searing and sharp pain, may have been a fractured rib. Sungkwan paused, gripping his hair when all he could do was grimace and cry in pain from the pull. He tasted iron. Some way, Sungkwan did landed punches to his face, cutting his lip.

 

 

“You’re nothing.”

 

 

Something in him—broke. The pain from behind his left ear grew immensely, making him yell out in pain as it seemed to sear his skin. Sungkwan dropped his hold on him, scared from the agonizing scream that was escaping his mouth. Everything was turning dark. His vision was red, his fingers curled. With a snarl, he looked up with pitch black eyes as the skies darkened and the wind picked up around them.

 

 

Those around them stepped back in fear. Sungkwan was frozen in his spoke, as if too surprised to move when the truth was, he could not move. He was stuck. The bully struggled, watching in fear as Seokjin stood, blackened eyes with a snarl on his lips. Seokjin seemed taller, shoulders broader. He seemed inhuman.

 

 

“Cho Sungkwan,” a loud booming voice, deeper than that of Seokjin’s, escaped his lips, “for months all you’ve done is torment me. For months I have taken it in, with patience. There is a limit and you have reached that limit. You will suffer. Your life will be filled with failures and pain. For the pain you have caused me and others, tenfold will you receive.”

 

 

As soon as he uttered his words, there was a sort of binding to Sungkwan who began to cry—not knowing why. The wind stopped as soon as it began, as the skies began to clear. Seokjin dropped to his knees, panting for breath he did not know he lacked. His vision was cleared, showing him the scared faces of his peers around him. Sungkwan was still, watching him, soon his nose began to bleed, and he watched helplessly as his tormentor fainted.

 

 

The teacher who had been called earlier, during his attack, appeared. Whispers of what took place began to sound. He had done something—something only seen among the outcasted groups of people. Those whom lived among them in hiding.

 

 

The Wiccans.

 

 

 

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

 

 

 

He was conflicted, as to why he was seated in the teacher’s lounge, waiting for his parent’s. Sungkwan had been taken to the hospital, for whatever reason no adult would want to share with him, no matter how politely he would ask. It was as if they were scared of him. No longer did they smile tenderly at the smart and polite Kim Seokjin—they left a space between him and themselves. All throwing weary looks in his direction. Had he done something wrong? He had not touched Sungkwan. He couldn’t even remember what had happened.

 

 

If anything, shouldn’t they be proud? The teachers, like his mother, would tell him to protect himself. Stand-up against Sungkwan and not just take it all in. So, why was now so different when he did what they told him to do? He may not remember what it was he did, but it clearly meant he had stood up against Sungkwan. Didn’t it?

 

 

“Seokjin, are you okay?”

 

 

The voice of his mother sent relief to his heart. The weary looks, the silence, was starting to scare him. He felt watched and judged under the adult’s eyes the longer the time passed. His mother was beside him, cupping his face as he weakly smiled to her.

 

 

“Mrs. Kim, I would like to speak with you before you take your son.”

 

 

His homeroom teacher, Miss Kwon, had come up. He smiled at his teacher, seeing her flinch slightly when they made eye contact. He blinked back, confused once more. Luckily, this time his brother was there to keep him company, distracting him from what the adults were conversing about. Seokjin laughed, a loud and mirth filled laugh surrounded the room. His brother always found a way to brighten his day and make the young

seven-year-old, be his age.

 

 

Despite the fear many of the adults had in their minds, the sound of his joyful laugh and bright smile, calmed them. It was a side-effect to his protecting of himself. To allow them to calm and not fear him. As if, his own laughter casted a spell in them.

 

 

 

“It really is the ones you least expect.”

 

 

“Is this why he was so quiet? He is one of them?”

 

 

“Such a handsome and bright child, such a pity to the family.”

 

 

 

“Did you hear that?” Seokjin asked his brother who shrugged, his laughter coming to an abrupt stop when he thought he heard the adults talk.

 

 

“What? I only heard you laugh and no one else is talking.”

 

 

“But I thought—”

 

 

“Boys come on. We’re going.”

 

 

His question was cut short. His mother was back, and he could almost feel her anxiety as she took his hand in hers. She was trembling as they walked. He curiously looked at her, wondering what had been said to have made his mother react in such a way. She walked swiftly, with a purpose, straight to their car. When she finally looked to him, she smiled bitterly. Seokjin tried to read her face. What was wrong? Her worried expression—he didn’t like it. He didn’t want it there. His mother was always so lovely and kind. He wanted to see her smile. A real, genuine smile—not the forced one she was giving him.

 

 

He quietly climbed into the car, buckling in as his mother leaned down towards him, cupping his face. She stared at him. This time it seemed she was searching for something in his eyes. He smiled, cupping her face as well. A sense of relief washed over as he did. He calmed her. Not just his smile. No. Seokjin had physically calmed her, the anxiety she felt. It was gone but her thoughts were there. Her child. Her precious child was in fact, different. The fear that she and her husband lived with was coming true. All those years back, that flash of light and a cry, it had changed him.

 

 

She loves him. She loves her Seokjin. The patient and kind child that he was.

 

 

He faced her, smiling as she kissed his forehead. No words spoken. Nothing said. She closed the door and went to the driver’s seat. The ride back home was filled with his brother asking questions and his mother answering. He faced out the window, seeing his reflection. He didn’t look any different. He didn’t feel any different. Other than being lucky enough to have no fractured rib or left-over wound on his lip, he was positive he was fine. He was the same old Kim Seokjin that he was that very morning.

 

 

So, why did they move?

 

 

Why did a week later, his parents sold their café and moved into a different district?

 

 

He switched schools. He never knew what happened to Sungkwan and none of his classmates he had considered friends, asked about him. They simply left. One day to the next, they had gone and left their life behind.

 

 

Throughout the coming weeks, weird things would occur. Things that he did. With reading and visiting shamans, Seokjin soon learned he was special. Not different, special. He had powers. Magic powers that he had no real control over as of yet. Both his parents were human. They held no special powers of their own. Nevertheless, he had his own growing powers.

 

 

He was too young to understand.

 

 

He didn’t know how this made him different.

 

 

He couldn’t understand how this made him different other than that he apparently could perform magic, as if he were one of the characters in the books he would read.

 

 

Regardless, his parents didn’t treat him different. Neither did his brother. They treated him the same and helped him slowly take control of what he could do with the magic he possessed in front of him. He was special. A little unique. Because Seokjin was somehow a wizard born to humans—it was unheard of. It was unseen. Magic was passed down from generation to generation. They did not manifest in those that had no gifts.

 

 

Somehow, there he was.

 

 

 

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

 

 

 

Age 9

 

 

        WITHIN two years, Seokjin began to read more and more, about his powers. About the Wiccans who were the keepers of the said powers. The books he read, none of them seemed to help unless they were books considered mythology. As the years passed, his mind only grew in understanding. He would perform little things. Little acts, throughout the days to explore what he could truly do. A wilting rose that he would transform back to its former glory. His powers weren’t evil. Wiccans were considered children of the light, blessed with the ability to help others. As far as he knew—it meant he was good. His powers were good.

 

 

On the day of his ninth birthday, it was when he felt something new.

 

 

Voices, inside of his head.

 

 

Previously, he recalled an experience when he felt he heard voices speaking about him in his mind. His brother had not heard them. Considering he never experienced that again, naturally, he had forgotten. Not then, not in that day as he came home from school, ready for the cake that would be waiting for him like there was every year it was his birthday. His mother was a baker and without a doubt, every year, would have a cake made specifically for him on his birthday.

 

 

He was not disappointed. The cake was there. His parents were not there to welcome him.

 

 

Seokjin did not think much about it. He simply headed to his room, smiling and ready to dig into his birthday cake. He hurried to leave his things in his room, getting out of his uniform when he felt it. He didn’t just feel it, he heard it. A distinct sound of his parent’s murmuring voices. They were hushed, speaking amongst themselves. Full of curiosity, he followed the sound of their voices, heading to the door of their room that was ajar. The whispered words were too softly spoke for him to hear. He leaned forward, a creak giving him away as he saw his mother spin to face the door. He was caught. With a sheepish smile and titter, he opened the door to expose himself to his parents.

 

 

“Oh, Jinnie. Happy birthday, did you see your cake?” his mother smiled, asking brightly and before he could answer, he heard her again. Why are you my son?

 

 

“What?” he said aloud.

 

 

“Your cake, did you see it?”

 

 

“I—yes, I did. I mean, what else did you say mom?” he tried to ask as politely as he could.

 

 

“I didn’t say anything else, Jinnie.” What is he going on about? Why is he so weird?

 

 

I’m tired of pretending. Why must he be my son? He’s nothing like me. To have powers, like those people and in our family. There is nothing more than to be ashamed.

 

 

This time, his father’s voice was heard clearly in his mind. Seokjin felt his eyes widen with the painful realization that his parents were not speaking aloud. They were thinking to themselves and he could hear them.

 

 

What a disgrace of a child, we should have just had one.

 

 

I’m so afraid him of and yet ashamed. Whenever I see him, I can’t help but think we must have done something wrong to deserve such a child.

 

 

He watched; both his parents were smiling at him. Neither of them having moved their lips for the words he heard. They were ashamed of him. In some way or another, they wished he wasn’t theirs. He felt the first break of his small heart, in knowing that for two years his parents pretended to love him, to be supportive of their special child. The astonished looks and words of amazements, were they all lies? Did his parents ever appreciate his powers? Did they ever see him as their son once his powers had manifested?

 

 

The constant negative thoughts entering his mind let him know, no. His parents were ashamed of him and his silence was irritating them both. Seokjin forced a smile and mumbled that he just remembered he needed to quickly do some homework and would eat his cake once he was done. Without waiting for them to vocally speak, he spun and left to his room, closing and locking the door.

 

 

Alone, he let the pain out. His parents did not want him. His relationship with his older brother had been strained for some time. The supposed “special” treatment his parents would give him. His brother was jealous and thought him a freak. At least with his brother, he knew from the words spoken aloud that he thought him a freak. His brother did not really like him, much anymore.

 

 

Seokjin had not cared much. Always believing that as long as he had his parents, it would be fine. Everything would be fine, and he would grow to be able to control his manifested powers—use them for good and keep them safe.

 

 

Now, he searched his many books to learn about the different things he could do. For one, he could read minds. They came in as clear as day. He searched the pages, finding the exact pages he needed to know. If he could read minds, he could do more, right?

 

 

Right.

 

 

Kim Seokjin spent the coming weeks perfecting his ability to not just read minds but manipulate other’s thoughts. Build a barrier around himself and others. Going behind his parent’s back, he would find those like him, always dressed like olden time gypsies. Asking them for advice and help to tap into that ability that he also had. Weeks turned into a month. A new year had come and in January, a month after his ninth birthday, as his family gathered together, he did it.

 

 

Tired of hearing how ashamed they were and how he was a disgrace, he took matters into his own hands. He would simply, seize to exist in their minds. He would manipulate their memories so that every memory that he was present—would change. He would no longer be in their minds. They would only have had one son. He would be no more.

 

 

At the age of nine, he left home. No longer relevant to the strangers that had once been his family. He took his essentials and runaway with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. He was alone and fending for himself. His magic, the only source of comfort he had in knowing he could attempt to be safe. He knew nothing of the world—and yet he knew so much.

 

 

He wasn’t special.

 

 

He was a freak.

 

 

He was unwanted and his powers weren’t gifts. They were a curse.

 

 

 

 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 

 

 

 

Present day

 

 

         THE day was like any other day. He awoke with a want to walk—so he did. He got up and around the midday, he decided to take a walk in the woods that were th