I

“Welcome back, Hana,” Doojoon said, his lips curved into an amused smirk. “Did you enjoy your assignment?”

“Shut the hell up, Doojoon, I’m not in the mood for your sick jokes,” she snapped, slightly dizzy on her feet.

She was back to her youthful, everlasting 21-year-old looking self – a disorientating change from the 74-year-old miserable woman who’d died with Junhyung. She rolled her shoulders, examining her new – or was it her old? – appearance, sighing with relief when she realised it was finally all over.

She froze. There, on her left hand, was that cursed red string of fate. The other side of the string lay in the shadows, attached to…

“Hana. Meet your other half.”