Chapter 1

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Jongin is not afraid. He takes it more as a deliverance, a relief… a reward for good suffering. Because he deserves it!

He has been fighting for years, long years stifled by overwhelming loneliness.

His parents ? His coming out, a little too rushed with anger, had made him lose these people when he was sixteen and they had not been part of his life for four years, when he was diagnosed with the ing cancer he had and who mainly devoured his pelvis and legs.

His friends ? The ones he thought he had, had all walked away from him, one after another, with his hair, when he had started chemotherapy… and he didn't even have any pets… he was lonely.

The doctors, the nurses, of course, all had the same speech: "Fight!"
But why ? His motivation to fight had quickly melted like snow in the sun, from the first complications. Instead of improving, as he was doing everything protocol demanded of him, his case got worse ... he no longer believed in anything and no one was there to motivate him to continue ... no more desire, no more reason to get up in the morning, because he could no longer work. His training as a webmaster, which had been so difficult to obtain, became useless when no boss wanted to hire an employee who would be regularly absent because of "The day after chemo", no more free time either ... and he could not even dance more ...

And when it all stacked up, he quickly thought of ending it. If his life didn't make sense anymore, maybe his death would.

And everything had gone through his head ... Cutting his veins? Oh no no blood… Pills? He had everything he needed to make a good cocktail indeed, but no… The great plunge into the void? He had found himself more than once on the edge of the roof of his building, flirting with the pleasure of flying for a moment so as not to feel his own weight on his sick bones, but no… The metro which passed not far from home ? He had often listened to it pass, thinking of going to take the next one, but he had never done so either.

Why ? Because cutting his veins, his pills, the void, the subway… all that… it was way too dirty… he didn't want to bother anyone. It was his , he didn't want to rot in his apartment and traumatize the little family that lived above his house, or the sweet granny next door, he didn't want to crash into the sidewalk or end up like porridge in the subway station and horrify the lives of dozens of witnesses, he didn't want to disturb anyone.

"Fight even harder, fight for yourself!" It's your Jongin life! The last doctor he had seen had told him, who had told him that his last new miraculous remission had not lasted long enough to be able to rejoice with anyone and that he was in the midst of a relapse. That he was going to have to redouble his efforts if he wanted to thwart the death sentence announced six months later ... at best ... and when he had said the word amputation, he had simply left the office never to return. It was impossible to have a leg amputated! He still needed it to find his way off the stage.

…

It was two months ago… He doesn't have much time left, he knows it, he feels it. Letting death come, not fighting it speeds up the process ... and he doesn't care, but the suffering is so intolerable at times that he would like death to take him right away and everything to end.

That’s what he’s come here for and it’s not been difficult. A big shot of oxycodone, his stuff on his back to be able to eat and drink the first few days, before he dived, he then just had to take a tourist bus that had taken him to the foot of the mountains of Jirisan National Park.

He then got hold of a rental small all-terrain motorcycle and a jerrycan of fuel so he could ride the long road ahead to reach his goal. A little house in the middle of the woods where he stayed with his late grandfather when he was a kid and who he always accompanied on a hike on summer vacations… it never got out of his mind.

Of course, nothing assured him the building would still be standing after so many years of neglect, but he had enough opioids in his bag to kill himself badly if things didn't go his way.

However, he had kept hope, after all, that hope, he didn't need it for anything else, so he had supplies.

And he had done well. Because the house of his memories, which was only a large dilapidated cabin, was still there. A kitchen area, a table, a semblance of a bathroom, the bed was strangely still covered with a large mattress holey and an old, dilapidated sofa stood pale in the middle of the main room. It was a mess, but he had no intention of settling there indefinitely so... well.

All that mattered was that he was going to be able to end his life in peace and that dilapidated cabin by the lake, it was a nicer place to die, than a ing hospital bed, in a dying house soulless.

Here, at least, he felt like he belonged to something like he had come home ... it was a beautiful place to die ... even alone ...

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Rising from the ground where he had sat, without moving, remaining his feet half in the water, he then gazed into the distance, the beauty of the flowering trees of this wonderful beginning of spring, then ended by closing his eyes blowing gently to try to forget the pain that gripped his pelvis as he sat on the hard floor.

Arms hanging from either side of him, blowing very slowly like a meditation, he finally smiled, soothed by the breeze on his face and by his liberating decision. It was the good time… he was finally going to be released.

But he was distracted by the sound of the broken branches coming from behind him to his right and he frowned, before opening his eyes and turning his head towards the source of the noise, which necessarily betrayed a living being.

His eyes widened more then, when he saw the creature approaching and he shifted somewhat to his left, his back, hiding behind a large boulder, when the white wolf, approached the edge of the water and sniffed the air, eyes closed.

He was magnificent. His thick, immaculate white fur stood out against the dark landscape of the setting sun, and Jongin told himself that this creature was the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life.

But he could still correct his copy and luckily, because the wolf suddenly got on his two hind legs, raising his nose to the sky and without him really understanding what was going on, he saw the wolf's head fall on the back of the animal like a hood and a human head appeared, followed by all the rest of the young man's body, when all the fur parted from his pale skin, like a garment, and he laid it on a rock near him.

Wide-eyed, his mouth wide open in astonishment, Jongin then changed his mind and said to himself that it was this being, the most beautiful creature on this planet.

The young man, with a slender body and porcelain white skin, was simply stunning. The most handsome man he has ever seen in his life without comparison.

He looked at him then, his heart mad, enter the water and enter it delicately ...

Jongin was fascinated. Was he going crazy?

And when the young man began to sing, in a voice so beautiful and so sweet, a song both melodious and melancholy, Jongin felt his heart fill with a gentle soothing warmth.

...

Then, after a while, Jongin could not say how long, the young man got out of the water, before quickly taking his skin from the rock and placing it on his shoulders.

And when he raised the wolf's head to his, the transformation began again, he became a wolf again and slowly disappeared into the thickets.

Aware of the experience he had just had, Jongin remained seated for a little while where he had been hiding.

Son esprit s'assombrit, cependant, il finit par se relever, avec difficulté, le visage déformé par la douleur venant de sa jambe gauche, s'accumulant dans celui de son bassin encore présent, ainsi que tous les autres et il rentra dans la cabine ... oubliant son idée d'en finir ce soir, sa détermination complètement partie en fumée, sans même s'en rendre compte.

S'injectant une double dose d'opioïde, un peu lapidé, il décida de se coucher tout de suite sans manger, se contentant d'un verre d'eau, afin d'essayer d'oublier sa douleur.

Et allongé sur le vieux matelas, emmitouflé sous sa couverture, une grimace de souffrance figée sur son beau visage, il ne pensa finalement qu'à sa rencontre extraordinaire et s'endormit avec un léger sourire sur ses lèvres sèches.

../ ..