My mind now wanders back to that sacrosanct moment when I had first encountered him. He rode through our dusty, little village, a dark, tall horseman on a shady quest. He had none of the sundry of servants and slaves that he owned today. He was all alone, seated upon a noble steed with a hand-woven, black, cotton cloth draped over his mouth. He kicked up the grime as he imperially cantered through our lowly settlement, guiding the reins of his horse with flourish. A number of us stood outside our houses, waiting with bated breath, to catch a glimpse of the mysterious horseman as he galloped past our homes. I stood outside, clutching tightly a vessel filled with water, and then he arrived; a mere cloud of dust that steadily approached us with increasing rapidity. I stood, transfixed, gazing at that masked horseman approaching, he came closer, closer, a sudden gust of wind ruffled through my hair and slapped my face and in that sheer fraction of a second he was gone; riding away to an undisclosed location, leaving behind an artless devotee – Me.

          I had never seen him before and the very chance that I should ever come across him again seemed almost too absurd to even conceive. But, even then, I began loving him. That minuscule segment of a second when I gazed upon his covered face resting on those broad shoulders, seated on the steed, was all it took for me to adore him beyond imagination. That was the first time, I had perceived those arched, glistening eyes. I had seen nothing of his face below his eyes, but I knew I had fallen profoundly in love with him.

           Days had gone by since I had first come across my soon to be autocrat, but of course, how was I to know that? All I did know at that time was the maddeningly passionate adoration that I had for him. I always maintained a firm belief that if two individuals were meant to be, they would inevitably cross each other’s paths for a subsequent time. And fuelling my faith, an incident occurred that changed my life forever.

              I still remember that day with as much clarity as I did four years back. It was a sultry summer day, the temperatures were soaring high…an envelope of almost deathly warmth seemed to surround me, following me where ever I went. It was suffocating. I recall dashing into the woods, struggling to get away from the terrible heat. The towering trees around me provided me with some refuge. Calmed, I slowly walked up to the stream, envisaging the moment when I would cup the clear, translucent water in my scorched palms and let it roll down my parched throat. But I never did get a chance to do that. The very instant I brought my hands close to my burning lips, a strong, almost brutal grip clutched my shoulder with crushing force and pulled me back savagely. I let out a small cry of pain and turned, coming face-to-face with my mugger. I stared…as I recognized those flickering eyes that beheld my gaze. I had met my love again.

             “Be my slave.” He growled simply in a deep, almost musically guttural voice. I just continued to gape at him with an astonished expression on my face. “Be. My. Slave.” He repeated, more slowly as he pushed his gaze deep within my fearful eyes. I stammered a few unfathomable words and he slapped his large, brown hand across his wide forehead. He snarled, more ruthlessly, “Just follow my commands and do as I say.” Then, a sudden change came upon his features and he unblinkingly stared into my eyes and leant forward. I gasped, as he breathed in my ear, “You want me…I can see it. Just join me in my journey. Be my slave. And you can be with me forever.” His voice brushed past my ears, as though caressing it. I was hypnotized by his magnetism. I was entranced by his voice. I was drawn into his criminally alluring approach and I was struck dead by his eyes.

          I said not a word, but dumbly nodded my head in agreement. He smiled an almost rueful smile, and then suddenly whistled a piercing tune that sliced through the air. Instantaneously, his stallion galloped with astonishing speed and halted right in front of his…and my master. My master effortlessly climbed up on the horse and held the reins in his left hand. I stood down, and with a painfully steely grip, his hand descended upon my soft, brown hair and mercilessly, he pulled me up, clutching only the thin strands of my hair. My scalp was blazing. I opened my mouth to shriek when I noticed that I was seated behind him. I slowly massaged my burning scalp with my fingers and there began my life’s journey with a brute whom I couldn’t get enough of.

          I sat behind him, staring unblushingly at his sculpted back that seemed to cry out for an embrace. I resisted the strong impulse to run my fingers along his hard, bony back. I could trace the rippled surface of the skeletal structure of his spine that protruded out of his thin shirt. My love for him increased…by a multifold. I only gazed at him throughout my journey to goodness-knows-where.

           Never once while riding behind him, did I ever look back and reminiscence over the family I had left behind, my parents, my siblings. I didn’t even sense a slight shadow of a thought flit through my head; a thought that would hark back to my kin. I entertained no such reflection. It wouldn’t have been erroneous to say that I had almost even forgotten about them throughout that month long horse ride. My master was everything that occupied my inane little brain. My family no longer existed, I had left them back. My life was starting anew….and till this day I don’t regret not turning back.

              But, sometimes, I do wish I could’ve whispered one last goodbye to them, enlightened them about my journey, bade them a teary farewell or even just had one last look at them. Cruel, it seems, to have to choose between family and love. Often, at the fall of the night, my master would disappear into the many trees that surrounded us, leaving me all alone. Those were the times when I would almost sense a tinge of sadness at the thought that I had left my family. But, I would brush it aside, afraid that I might turn too cowardly to continue on with the journey.

                At times, my master would almost forget that I was even accompanying him. He used to disregard me, ignore me and at times when he was in a foul disposition, he would hurt me. I bore with it, I kept my mouth tightly shut and followed along on his journey. I would repeatedly wonder and ponder over the final destination of our journey, but I dared not ask him. The relationship I shared with him was strange, almost bizarre. I slaved for him, plainly and he barely noticed my presence. He remained wrapped up in his own thoughts, while I remained wrapped up in the fictional love he had for me. “Look at me! Take me in your arms! Love me!” I would, sometimes, long to yell, but each time I bit my tongue and stayed silent.

                  A fortnight into our journey and a sudden change came over him. His usually moody, quiet temperament had been surprisingly replaced by a victorious, triumphant manner. I refrained from asking him what had brought about this change, I preferred being in the dark. But, a couple of days later, he came up to me, whistling a merry tune cheerfully, and said “I’ve got a few friends for you, Taesun!”

                I felt as thought my soul was being out of me, slowly, painfully. I could sense my consciousness slowly ebbing away. It had been precisely twenty one days and five hours since the start of our journey and for all the passionate love I held for him, he couldn’t remember my name right. I sighed, but before I could react completely, a group of thin, frail, swaying individuals walked up to me, their faces were filled with fear and their bodies were disfigured with large, bleeding cuts. Almost involuntarily, I gasped at their feeble countenances that seemed to be hovering on the brink of death. I jumped up on my feet and began seating them, preparing to dress their wounds. My master stood behind me, watching regally, as my patients heaved, panted and groaned in agony.

“Help me! Help me make them better!” I remember shrieking, as I dashed from person to person, bathing their injuries and clogging their severe hemorrhage.

My master did not even bother turning his head towards me. He said slowly, curving his lips upwards, “I’ve just achieved the impossible today. And that’s enough for now. You can look after them. They will never die.” He laughed then, as though enjoying a little joke of his own and strode away. His words seemed to have an almost grave ring to it. “They will never die.” Somehow, those words seemed almost factual.

            All through the night, I wandered from person to person, filled with worry and concern. But, somehow, I knew they weren’t going to die. They would make it, I knew, even though that theory violated all logical reasoning. And they did. Once the day had dawned and I let my guard down for a bit, for the first time, I gazed upon the crowd of bleeding individuals my master had brought down. I sensed a sudden eerie sense of incompleteness as I glanced at them. They just stared back at me, almost lifelessly. They seemed to do nothing without being ordered to do so. A sudden sad thought hit me and I realized that my master had got himself new slaves.

            But, where did he get them, how? Why were they so inert? Why did they seem so pale? My questions were well founded and yet, I hesitated to put them across to my master. I was accustomed to living in the dark. I was accustomed to just going along with the flow. I was taught to never question my master.

            That morning, all of us set out together. My master was guiding his horse with me seated behind. But, the extraordinary part was that the group of people he had conjured up last night were accompanying us on our journey, the whole lot of them. They had no horses, no means of conveyance and perhaps they didn’t need one. They kept up with ease, just sprinting along with out horse on their thin legs. I was amazed, more so shocked! There were all sorts of age groups in that crowd that were following us, but they all seemed perfectly synchronized while they dashed along. They were almost programmed in their mannerisms. They just followed along, uttering not a sigh, not one grunt, not a groan. They seemed almost inhuman, more like zombies. My neck was fixed in a position that let me look behind at the throng of slaves behind us. My master noticed my steady gaze.

“Funny, aren’t they?” He asked, startling me out of my concentration. I nodded jerkily and mustered up enough courage to question back, “Who are they?”

“Ah, now you’re getting nosy!” He said, smiling, but I caught the warning behind it. “You’ll get to know soon enough.”

I sighed and asked politely, “Will you please tell me where we’re headed?”

“Of course!” He replied graciously. He waved his hand around in a sweeping gesture and said spectacularly, “We’re headed off to conquer the world!”

My eyes widened and I’m pretty sure I felt them ‘rolling around in the sockets’! What did he mean by that statement?

“W...what d’you mean?” I managed to stutter.

“Oh, you know what I mean. I mean just what I said. We’re out to conquer the world.” He smiled slowly, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. I don’t know why that had to capture my attention then, but it did. So there!

              I kept silent for the remaining part of our journey, focusing wholly on the strange behavior of the slaves my master had collected. I couldn’t sense anything average about them and as the day progressed, I was only strengthened in my belief that there was something terribly wrong with them. We halted someplace as the night fell and I ignominiously descended from the horse. My master got down with more dignity and he tied his steed to a huge banyan tree that had spread its branches outwards seemingly reaching out to the clear dark heavens. I shivered in spite of the warmth of the night and wrapped my hands round myself. The others, however, simply stood in a perfect line. Not a huff or a puff betrayed their impassive faces. At a customary glance, it would have been more than impossible to even imagine that those groups of wooden faced, frail, individuals had just darted over miles and miles of land, with not a solitary, wee little break to relieve them.

             I struggled to keep myself from crying out loud. Those people seemed so frail, so wan, and yet my master was impelling them to push their limits. And what hurt me the most was that they seemed to accept it. It didn’t seem humanely possible to scale that long, that stretched, that arduous a distance, but even so, those individuals had done it. That triggered it. The slight suspicion that I was harbouring, seemed much more justified now. They were simply not human.

    That night, Master Minho had disappeared once again, but instead of retiring into that crude tent made out of sticks and leaves, I sat outside, beside the fire, staring at the people who still stood there, motionless. They spoke not a word, not even to one amongst themselves. They made not a sound.

I decided to attempt it. I tried to strike up a conversation, “Umm…where are you all from?” I asked, but no answer was given back.

I tried again, “Are you better now?”  But the same cutting silence greeted me. They did not even tilt their heads towards me.

     I stood up and walked towards them. I was mentally resolving my inner anxiety concerning whether or not I should try conversing to a lone one amongst them all. I decided on the affirmative and ran a sweeping gaze over them all, trying to pick out someone who didn’t seem quite so deceased. I felt my gaze suddenly falter at one person amidst the scores. I blinked a couple of times as I rubbed my eyes in disbelief. How could I have never seen him before? I walked almost fearfully to him and looked straight at him, my mouth slightly parted in a stunned circle.

“Onew?” I managed to squeak as I stood before him, tears forming in my eyes. “That is you right, Onew?” I repeated.

The person slowly, seemingly painfully, looked down at me. “Yes. I am Onew.” He said curtly.

“Onew?! Onew! Don’t you remember me? Onew! It’s me, Taemin!” I wailed for all life’s worth. I had found him. Everyone had said to me that he had died, but I refused to believe it. And there he was standing before my very eyes.

Onew didn’t reply, not even a flicker of recognition ran across his singularly impassive face. I didn’t care. I impulsively threw my arms round his bony shoulders; I felt his bones jut into my skin. I buried my face in his chest, but instantly, he retreated. Onew stepped back and pushed me away with a single hand.

“I do not know you.” He said shortly, as he looked away from me.

“Yes, you do, Onew! I’m Taemin! Your closest friend!” I cried out loud, but Onew denied ever befriending me.

A wave of unfathomable emotions swept over me and I felt an overwhelming feeling of hysteria envelope me.

“You know me! You know me!” I yelled forcefully, angrily brushing away the huge tears running down my cheek. “You do know me!” I gasped for breath as I shook him hard, my fingers piercing into the thin layer of flesh that he protected his rigid skeleton.

Onew didn’t respond to my panicked exclamation. He gently unclenched my fingers that were gripping his shoulder and he then stepped further back. “Please go.” He said, each word cutting through me like a blade.

             I swallowed back a painful lump in my scorched throat and made my wavering way to the leafy tent. I bent low, got in and lay down on the earth. I had found Onew, after nearly four years, but our reunion was nothing like I had imagined. We didn’t rush into each other’s arms and cry on each other’s shoulders like I had envisaged. But, instead, I held no place even in Onew’s mere recollections. What a cruel world we lived in…Even our very own memories were wrenched away from our lives.