Taemin watched Time run backwards on his pocket watch. The second hand then righted itself and ticked forward again. Bored, he blew air through his cheeks and returned the watch to his pocket. He swung his umbrella and glanced about the circus grounds. The others were focused on the newly formed soul, listening to his story and forming the crystal that would carry its Whisper. They would not notice if he explored the place for a little while. And with that he lifted the edge of the circus tent and snuck inside.

Within the same circus grounds Hiro was over the moon with excitement – he had never been to the circus before! He had seen the images on the black and white TV in the electronic shop fronts but he had never imagined it to be this colourful. The circus was dazzling and magical; the circus made him forget how weak he felt every day. Hiro ran between Papa and Mama with wide, curious eyes towards the rides, towards the exhibits, towards the dangerous-looking animals. To Hiro, it felt like what heaven should be.

Papa and Mama laughed at Hiro’s excitement. They were glad that Hiro was still a bright child despite their living situation. Papa was a labourer at the news printing office. Every night he would come back home covered with ink dust and sometimes Hiro would trace abstract patterns on Papa’s face. Mama stayed at home with Hiro, because Hiro was sick. It was a mysterious illness which made Hiro weaker with every passing season.

It was at the news office that Papa had heard whispers of a travelling magician with strange healing powers. This magician was said to have made a blind man see, a mute man talk, and a deaf man hear. The magician was said to be at the circus. And so Papa was at the circus, searching for a way to save his son. He kissed Mama and Hiro’s cheek after a small, simple lunch and wandered about the circus grounds looking for this magician. He asked the stall vendors where he might be and they directed him to the edge of the perimeter. They directed Papa with disguised disgust at the thought of that so-called magician, who they knew to be a phoney. But they were the circus and they sold tricks to the crowd.

The tent Papa was directed to was a worn and neglected grey-striped construction. On the side of the tent strayed black cats. Nothing else alive seemed to be near it. Papa slowly entered the tent. The tent was built with a long entrance hall snaking through its interior. As Papa walked down the hallway, the noise of a ticking clock built volume, urging him inside. He turned the corner and was astounded by the bright white room in front of him. The walls were no longer fabric but white stone decorated with geometric patterns. The shining light seemed to have no source. Papa knew it to be magic.

The room was empty save for a table in its centre. A black cat was lounging next to it. Papa made his way up to the table and discovered a worn steel travel suitcase sitting on top. Papa was a curious man. He unlocked the clasp and opened the suitcase when a disembodied voice filled the air.

“What are you doing here?” the voice asked. It was a young male’s voice and it was filled with surprise.

“I am looking for the healing magician,” Papa timidly replied, looking about the room for the person who spoke.

“A healer?” the voice sounded confused. “There is no healer here.”

“But my son! He is dying. He deserves to live!” Papa pleaded with the voice.

“Hmm...” the voice mused aloud. It asked what sort of boy his son was and Papa spoke of Hiro like a proud father. “I suppose we could save your son,” the voice cut off Papa’s praises. Papa fell to his knees with his grateful thanks spilling from his lips. “But you will need to come with us on a journey.” the voice told Papa. The voice had emphasised the word journey. The voice was teasing Papa; the voice had no real power to heal his son. The voice was mischief.

“I agree! I will go anywhere and do anything,” Papa answered, “I will do anything to save my son.”

And at those words, the ticking clock stopped and the shining light of the room flashed to blind Papa for a brief moment. When he was able to see again, he saw a young boy dressed in a top hat and black coat, lined with white. He looked bored and was playing with the umbrella he carried with him.

“Good sir,” Papa addressed the man, touching his sleeve, “Will you help me?”

And Taemin jumped at being addressed, his brown eyes wide with shock. This was not meant to happen.

“Thank you for your story. It was a beautiful telling,” Onew said the ritual words.

“No it was not,” scoffed Jonghyun. The impatient boy pulled out a pocket watch from his black coat and swung it about its chain.

“Your last words will be given to the one they were intended for. You may rest in peace,” Onew finished, gingerly placing the crystal into his pocket. Once done, he spun around and faced Jonghyun with a disapproving frown. “You don’t need to be so rude,” he told the younger boy and led the others away from the tent. They were moving on to their next destination and the bus that would take them there will be arriving soon.

“But that man was a fake, a charlatan,” Jonghyun defended himself.

“He wasn’t like that all his life,” Onew reminded him and stopped when he realised that someone was missing. “Where is Taemin?”

“He went inside the tent,” Minho answered their leader. When questioned why he wasn’t stopped, the taller, stoic man merely shrugged. Onew sighed and turned back towards the dingy looking tent to collect their trouble-making member.

Papa was insistent on Taemin telling him what to do to save Hiro. He shadowed Taemin as the boy hurried out of the tent. At that bright flash of light which revealed the true form of Taemin to Papa, the inside of the tent had transformed back into its original state of musty and suspicious looking fabric.

“Get away from me!” Taemin rudely pushed Papa away from him. Outside, he saw the others come towards him and he ran forward with pleading eyes for help. “Onew! I swear it wasn’t my fault! But this mortal can see me!” Onew and the others stopped with surprise at Taemin’s words, and their jaws dropped to the floor in astonishment when Papa bowed low to each of the members.

“Please good sirs,” Papa began, “This gentleman said that I could save my son. He said that all I had to do was go on a journey and Hiro will be cured!”

“Oh my god, Taemin!” Jonghyun yelled, “What have you done?”

“Nothing!” the youngest insisted.

In the distance they heard the sound of a bus horn blowing. Onew looked towards the road and saw their ride approach. He took off his top hat and scratched his head, his brown hair shifting across his brow. Onew made a decision and replaced his top hat on his head. His eyes met with Minho’s and the latter shrugged his response again.

“Ok, you’ll just have to come with us.” Onew sighed and turned to meet the bus. The blonde haired Key remained silent, a large tome in his arms as he followed Onew. Jonghyun made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat and pushed Taemin ahead of him. Minho gave Papa a small smile of encouragement. Papa took a deep breath and without further hesitation, followed the five boys in black coats and top hats.