Rising

Minjeong sat on the floor, frozen.

The wilted flower stood before her, its fragile stem bowed as if in surrender. It hadn’t been like that a minute ago. She had done this. Somehow.

Her fingers curled against her palm, the ghost of the plant’s delicate texture still lingering on her skin.

This had to be a coincidence. It had to be.

But deep down, something whispered that it wasn’t.

She forced herself to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her. She needed to do something—anything—to prove she wasn’t losing her mind.

Minjeong ran a shaky hand through her hair, her stomach twisting with nausea. A deep, relentless ache throbbed at the back of her skull, sharp and splintering—like her head was on the verge of cracking open.  

This is just a dream… Just a dream.

But it wasn’t.

No, there had to be another reason. Maybe the plant was already dying. Maybe Jimin had forgotten to water it. Maybe—

But she had seen it happen. Felt the life drain from it the second she touched it.

Her fingers curled into her palm, a sickening sense of unease creeping up her spine. This wasn’t normal.

“Fuck!” Minjeong cursed as she stumbled into her shared room, her breath uneven. She was scared—scared to touch anything, scared of whatever was happening to her.

Her hands looked normal. No strange markings, no visible changes. They were just hands.

Then why did the stupid plant she touched seem to wither?

On impulse, she grabbed at her bedsheets, fingers clenching the fabric. Nothing happened. The sheets didn’t decay, didn’t crumble to dust. They remained soft and cool beneath her touch, completely untouched.

Her stomach twisted. What the hell is going on?

Panic surged in her chest. What if she touched Jimin or Aeri by accident… Maybe even Yizhou? What if—what if this wasn’t limited to plants?

She fumbled for her phone, her hands unsteady as she typed into their group chat.

Minjeong:I’m clearing out the 4th bedroom. I think I should quarantine myself for a while.

She didn’t wait for a response. Her mind was already made up.

The fourth bedroom had been meant for her when she first moved in, but Jimin and Aeri had never gotten around to fully cleaning it. It was mostly used for storage now—a mess of stacked boxes and forgotten furniture.

Minjeong moved quickly, shoving things aside, her movements frantic but purposeful. She didn’t care where anything went as long as it was out. She needed space. She needed to be away from them.

By the time she was done, her chest was heaving, her forehead damp with sweat.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her pillow and a blanket from her shared room, tossed them onto the bare mattress in the fourth bedroom, and shut the door behind her.

Then, finally, she exhaled.

She was alone.

Safe.

For now.

Her phone rang and buzzed incessantly, the vibrations rattling against the wooden nightstand. She didn’t need to check to know who it was—her roommates, most likely, their worry growing with every unanswered call and unread message. But she couldn’t bring herself to care. The weight in her chest made it hard to breathe, let alone type out a response.

Her hands trembled as she reached for her cellphone, her fingers cold and clammy. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat, the anticipation curling in her stomach like something toxic. With slow, deliberate movements, she logged into her hospital portal, her heart hammering against her ribs as she pulled up her lab reports.

Mutation X - Negative

The words were stamped across the screen, unyielding and absolute. Just like they had been the first time. The only time.

She had never questioned the results. A negative meant she was safe. A negative meant she was human. She had spent eighteen years living under that certainty, never once considering that it could change. That it could be wrong.

But something was happening to her. Something unnatural.

Her skin burned with the memory of what had happened earlier—her fingertips glowing for a brief, impossible moment, the faint crackle of energy dancing at her palms before vanishing as if it had never been there. The sensation still lingered beneath her skin, a strange and foreign thing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will it away, trying to convince herself she had imagined it. But deep down, she knew.

People didn’t just turn into mutants. They were born that way. They were identified, categorized, and marked as outcasts from the moment their tests came back positive. There were no second results.

And yet, here she was.

Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat. If she was a mutant now, it didn’t matter what that report said. It didn’t matter that she had lived her whole life as a normal human. Everything would change.

She had seen what happened to mutants. They were ostracized, hunted, treated like threats even if they had never harmed anyone. News reports flashed in her mind—mutants being dragged from their homes, beaten in the streets, schools and businesses refusing to accept them. People like her—like she might be now—didn’t get to have normal lives.

Her college would expel her. Her family… her parents had always spoken about mutants with a mixture of fear and disgust. If they found out—if they even suspected—she would be disowned, cast out, left with nothing.

She gripped the edge of her bed, her knuckles turning white.

This couldn’t be happening.

And yet, the evidence was there, crackling beneath her skin like an unspoken truth.

She wasn’t supposed to be a mutant. But she was.

And now, she had no idea what to do.

———

Minjeong barely slept. When she did, it was restless—fragments of strange, flickering dreams and the lingering static of something she still couldn’t explain. By the time morning arrived, her body felt leaden, her thoughts sluggish, but she forced herself to stay in bed, unmoving. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even know how to begin to deal with this.

A soft knock at the door barely registered before it creaked open.

“Minjeong?” Jimin’s voice was gentle, careful, the way one speaks to someone they’re afraid might break. The scent of warm porridge wafted into the room as Jimin stepped inside, balancing a steaming bowl in one hand. “You weren’t picking up your phone. Aeri and I thought you died, but I told her you were probably just sick.”

Minjeong swallowed, unsure what to say. Sick. If only.

Jimin walked over, placing the bowl on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed. Her sharp eyes roamed over Minjeong’s face, filled with quiet concern. “You look like hell. Did you eat anything yesterday?”

Minjeong shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

Jimin sighed. “Okay, well, you’re eating now.” She nudged the bowl toward her. “It’s porridge. Light, easy on the stomach. I even added extra honey, so you don’t complain.”

Minjeong almost smiled at that. Almost.

Jimin, satisfied with her small victory, leaned back on her hands and let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, also? My plant died.”

That startled Minjeong enough to blink up at her. “What?”

“My plant. The one I’ve been taking care of for, like, a year. When we got home yesterday it was just dead. No warning, no slow wilting—just bam, gone.” Jimin narrowed her eyes. “I think it was Aeri, maybe Yizhou’s in on it too. That woman keeps lying to me. First, she swore she didn’t touch my matcha, and now she’s acting like she didn’t curse my plant? Suspicious.”

Despite everything—the weight in her chest, the fear still creeping along the edges of her mind—Minjeong let out a small, shaky laugh. “Maybe it just… died?”

Jimin scoffed. “Unlikely. That thing survived my finals stress, a week without watering, and Aeri knocking it over twice. It was strong. I refuse to believe it just gave up.”

Minjeong shook her head, but there was something comforting about Jimin’s dramatic antics. Like, for just a second, things were normal. Like, for just a moment, she could pretend nothing had changed.

But deep down, she knew better.

She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t exhausted.

She was something else.

And she didn’t know how much longer she could hide it.

Minjeong stared at the bowl of porridge like it held all the answers in the universe. She should eat. She needed to eat. But her hands stayed curled in her lap, unmoving.

Jimin noticed. Of course she did.

Her brows furrowed as she tilted her head. “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird.”

You have no idea.

Minjeong licked her lips, throat dry. “Nothing. Just… my arms hurt.”

Jimin didn’t look convinced, but she let out a hum and picked up the spoon. “Okay. Then I’ll feed you.”

Minjeong’s breath caught. “What?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “What, do you want me to let you starve? You haven’t eaten in at least a day, and now you’re sitting here like I put poison in it. So, open up.”

She scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blowing on it gently to cool it down before holding it out expectantly.

Minjeong stiffened. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to move away, to not let her get too close.

The plant. The lifeless, withered plant.

Her stomach twisted violently. She didn’t know what was happening to her—what she was becoming—but what if she touched Jimin, and… what if something happened to her, too?

Jimin must have sensed her hesitation because she frowned, concern deepening. “Minjeong.”

Her voice was softer now, careful. Like she was dealing with something fragile.

Minjeong clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms. This was Jimin. Her Jimin. The same Jimin who always remembered how she liked her coffee, who never let her cry alone, who showed up even when Minjeong didn’t know how to ask for help.

Despite only knowing her for a couple months, she knew Jimin cared for her, and Jimin wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

Minjeong exhaled shakily and leaned forward, letting Jimin press the spoon to her lips.

The moment the warm porridge hit her tongue, she realized how hungry she really was. She swallowed, throat thick with something she couldn’t name, and Jimin smiled—small, triumphant.

“See?” Jimin said lightly, scooping up another spoonful. “Not so hard.”

Minjeong wished she could let herself enjoy this moment. The warmth of Jimin’s presence, the way she always managed to make things feel normal even when Minjeong’s world was tilting on its axis.

But the fear still coiled in her chest, sharp and unrelenting.

Because if Jimin ever found out the truth…

Minjeong didn’t know if she’d still be sitting here, being fed like she was something worth caring for.

Minjeong spaced out, her body going through the motions—opening her mouth, chewing, swallowing—while Jimin filled the silence with soft chatter. Her voice was gentle, easy, as if she knew Minjeong didn’t have the energy to respond but wanted her to feel held in some way. Jimin had a habit of doing that—giving care without demanding anything in return.

Then she felt it.

A hand on hers.

Minjeong froze.

Her breath hitched, stomach twisting in that familiar coil of fear. What if it happens again? What if she’s next? What if I—

But nothing happened.

Jimin’s skin didn’t wither beneath her touch. The warmth of her palm remained, steady and alive. Instead of recoiling, Jimin only tightened her grip, fingers threading between Minjeong’s in a slow, deliberate motion.

And then, before Minjeong could spiral any further, Jimin leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Minjeong sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flickering to Jimin in surprise. The kiss was fleeting, barely there, but it left a warmth that lingered long after Jimin pulled back.

“You know I care about you a lot… right?” Jimin murmured, her voice softer than before—something meant only for Minjeong to hear.

Minjeong swallowed, unable to trust her voice. She nodded.

Jimin let out a small hum of approval before shifting, tugging Minjeong forward like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was—for Jimin, at least. Without hesitation, she pulled Minjeong against her, arms wrapping securely around her waist as she nestled in beside her.

The warmth of her body was immediate, overwhelming in a way that made Minjeong’s breath stutter.

She should move. She should pull away.

But Jimin only exhaled, relaxing into her, her fingers still laced with Minjeong’s. Like she belonged there.

“Just let me hold you,” Jimin whispered against her hair, voice melting into something tender. “You feel like you need it.”

Minjeong did. She really, really did.

So she let herself sink into it—the warmth, the safety, the slow and steady rise of Jimin’s breathing. The way Jimin didn’t ask for an explanation, didn’t push for words Minjeong wasn’t ready to say.

Jimin just stayed.

And for the first time since this terrifying, impossible change started, Minjeong let herself breathe.

——— 

Minjeong didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she opened her eyes, the bed beside her was empty. No sign of Jimin. Panic immediately gripped her chest, cold and tight.

Did Jimin…? Did Jimin wither like the plant?

The thought hit her like a punch to the gut. Her heart pounded in her ears as she shot up from the bed. Her eyes frantically searched the room, expecting to see some sign of Jimin, some trace of her presence—but there was nothing. The silence felt suffocating, the room suddenly too still.

Minjeong's breath quickened. Her mind raced. What if she’s gone? What if she’s gone because of me? The memory of the plant flashed in her mind—the way it shriveled up in her presence. She couldn’t shake the image. Did it happen to her?

Desperate, Minjeong reached for her phone on the nightstand. She grabbed it with trembling hands, quickly unlocking the screen. Her heart pounded harder as she scrolled through her messages, praying for some sign of reassurance.

And then she saw it.

Jimin-sunbae: Had fun cuddling with you, you looked like a puppy. I had to go to my classes but don’t worry! Unnie will contact your teachers so rest well, cutie~ <3333

Minjeong's breath caught in her throat, and she froze for a second, blinking at the message. Jimin… wasn’t… gone?

Relief flooded her body, but it was mixed with confusion. She didn’t wither. She’s fine… She’s fine.

Her heart still raced, but it was no longer out of terror. It was now filled with a complex mix of emotions—relief, but also uncertainty. Why didn’t it happen to her? The lingering question gnawed at her.

She let out a shaky breath, managing to reply with a simple thank you, trying to quell the storm of feelings swirling inside her. She placed her phone down, but her thoughts were still tangled in the confusion. The fear of what her powers might do—what they could do—still lingered in her chest.

After a moment, Minjeong decided she needed to move, to clear her head. The clock read 1:30, and she knew Aeri and Yizhou would be at class by now. She felt a small sense of relief. The apartment was quiet, and for the first time that day, she didn’t feel so trapped.

She got up and walked to the kitchen, but her eyes immediately landed on the spot where Jimin’s plant had once been. The empty pot stared back at her, a constant reminder of her fears. Did I do that? The guilt gnawed at her. What if the plant was a warning? What if she was a danger to everyone around her?

Taking a deep breath, Minjeong forced the thoughts away. I need to test it. I need to be sure.

After gathering herself, she decided to head outside. She needed to calm her mind, to get some distance from her worries. The fresh air might help clear her head.

Once outside, Minjeong walked through the familiar streets, her mind clouded with questions. She passed by the bushes that lined the apartment complex, the small plants seeming innocent enough. She hesitated, staring at them. What if...

Her fingers brushed gently against one of the leaves.

Nothing happened.

No withering, no shriveling. The bush remained vibrant and full of life under her touch.

Minjeong blinked, stunned. She had expected something—anything—but there was nothing. So... it was just the plant?The thought confused her even more. What did this mean? Was the power only triggered by something specific, or was she just not in control enough to understand it yet? She couldn’t make sense of it.

A quiet sigh left her lips as she continued walking, feeling a small sense of relief. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m not a danger. But the doubt remained.

Her feet led her past the familiar shops, apartments, and parks. It wasn’t long before she found herself standing outside a quaint flower shop she hadn’t noticed before: Hansongi / A Single Bloom. The name caught her attention, and she instinctively stepped inside, drawn by the warmth of the place. The smell of fresh flowers and plants filled the air, immediately calming her.

Inside, the shop was cozy, with flowers in full bloom, their petals vibrant in the sunlight. Each plant seemed to have its own place in the room, creating a serene and welcoming atmosphere. Minjeong wandered, taking in the beauty of the shop, her mind momentarily distracted from the turmoil inside her.

The quiet hum of the shop was soothing—gentle music playing softly, a slight rustle of leaves, the fragrance of jasmine and lavender mixing with the earthy scent of fresh soil. Minjeong closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself be enveloped by the calm, the peace that seemed to settle over her.

It wasn’t long before she was approached by a tall woman, with an easy smile and a gentle presence.

“Hi, do you need help?” the woman asked, her voice sweet and welcoming.

Minjeong turned around and found herself looking at a woman who wore a nametag reading Sooyoung (ᐢ. .ᐢ). The little bunny doodle next to her name made Minjeong smile, her nerves easing slightly at the sight.

“That’s adorable,” Minjeong commented, unable to resist. “I love the bunny!”

Sooyoung chuckled softly, her smile widening. “Thanks! I like to keep things light around here. What can I do for you today?”

Minjeong hesitated for a moment, suddenly aware of the soft flutter in her chest. “Uh… yeah, I’m looking for a plant. For my roommate.”

Sooyoung raised an eyebrow with interest. “A plant for your roommate, huh? Something special?”

Minjeong nodded, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “I guess… something that feels full of life, like a burst of energy. I want to get it right.”

Sooyoung seemed to understand immediately, her expression warm and thoughtful. “I think I have just the thing. Come with me.”

Minjeong followed Sooyoung deeper into the shop, her heart still slightly racing from the uncertainty swirling inside her. The plants and flowers here seemed untouched by her confusion, standing proudly in their pots. Her hand brushed lightly over the leaves of a nearby plant, feeling a small, pleasant jolt of connection. For the first time that day, Minjeong felt a little less alone in her thoughts.

As they stopped in front of a lush arrangement, Sooyoung gently gestured to a large, striking plant with broad, dark green leaves and delicate white flowers peeking out from between them. It looked like a peace lily, serene and elegant, radiating an air of calm.

“This is a peace lily,” Sooyoung explained softly, her fingers brushing lightly over the leaves. “It’s symbolic of peace and healing. It thrives with care, but it's also quite resilient. A little like us, don’t you think?”

Minjeong nodded slowly, feeling a connection to the plant. She could almost see it—Jimin placing it in the apartment, tending to it with the same care she had shown her. There was something comforting in the idea that this plant, like their relationship, would flourish with attention but could also endure, even in the most difficult moments.

“That’s perfect,” Minjeong whispered, the words escaping her before she could stop them. “I think… I think it’s exactly what I need. For her.”

Sooyoung smiled softly, her eyes glinting with understanding. “I think she’ll love it.”

Minjeong felt something in her chest lighten—a small sense of peace settling in. For the first time in a while, she didn’t feel so lost. The uncertainty, the fear of her powers—it was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, but in this moment, surrounded by flowers and kindness, it felt a little easier to breathe. A little easier to believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

With a small nod, Minjeong took the plant, feeling its weight in her hands, the first real step in taking control of her world again.

And maybe, with time, she would understand her power. Maybe she would learn how to wield it, not as something to fear, but as a part of who she was.

Just as Minjeong was about to make her way to the exit, she felt a sudden tap on her shoulder. She turned around, her heart skipping a beat as she was met by Sooyoung's gentle yet knowing smile.

“Sooyoung-sunbae?” Minjeong asked, startled but curious.

"Can I have your number?" Sooyoung asked, her voice warm and playful, with a glint of something more in her eyes.

Minjeong blinked in surprise. “Huh? My number?”

Sooyoung smirked, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she had just made an unexpected discovery. “You’re not the first one I’ve met like this… I think you have something in common with me.”

Minjeong’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Sooyoung stepped closer, her demeanor calm and collected, but Minjeong couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was about to happen. Sooyoung lightly placed her hand on Minjeong’s arm, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Without warning, Sooyoung’s eyes widened slightly as if something had clicked into place. The warmth from her hand seemed to linger on Minjeong’s skin, and her gaze softened, though her expression was still focused.

“Minjeongie,” Sooyoung said quietly, her tone almost amused, but filled with quiet understanding. “You’ve just gotten your powers, haven’t you?”

Minjeong froze, her heart thudding in her chest. “What? How do you know?”

Sooyoung gave her a small smile, removing her hand but keeping her eyes locked onto Minjeong’s. “I can tell,” she said, her voice gentle yet confident. “When I touch someone, I can sense it. I can feel the mutation in the air around them. It’s like a subtle energy I pick up. And with you… it’s fresh, new. You’ve just discovered your powers, haven’t you?”

Minjeong stood there, completely taken aback. How could Sooyoung know that? The idea that someone else could sense her mutation by touch was a revelation in itself.

Minjeong’s mind raced. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she confessed, her voice small. “I touched a plant earlier, and it… withered. I didn’t know if I was dangerous or if I was…”

Sooyoung’s eyes softened, and she stepped closer again, a comforting warmth emanating from her. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said gently. “I can’t say I know exactly what your power is. But I do know one thing—you’re not alone in this. I was in your shoes once.”

Minjeong looked at Sooyoung, her chest tight with a mix of fear and curiosity. “You… you can control it?”

Sooyoung gave her a reassuring smile. “I can. And you will, too. It’s all about learning control. Yes, it’s overwhelming at first, but it’s not a curse, Minjeong. It’s a part of you. And just like everyone else, you can live a normal life with it. You don’t have to be afraid of your powers.”

Minjeong hesitated, the weight of Sooyoung’s words sinking in. She had never met anyone else like her, and the thought that Sooyoung had learned to live with her powers without fear was something Minjeong had never considered before. Maybe I don’t have to be afraid of this after all.

“You really think I can do this?” Minjeong asked, her voice trembling a little, but with hope shining through.

Sooyoung nodded. “Absolutely. It’s all about learning to control it, just like I did. And I’ll help you with that. You’re not in this alone.”

Minjeong swallowed hard, her nerves still there but no longer as overwhelming. She felt a sense of relief beginning to settle in, something she hadn’t felt since all this started. The idea of a future where she could live without constantly fearing her powers—of living a normal life—was a distant dream until now.

Sooyoung smiled at her, her expression kind but firm. “You just have to trust yourself, Minjeong. The more you learn to control it, the easier it will get. You can lead a normal life, just like I have.”

Minjeong’s lips parted as she tried to process everything. “Thank you, Sunbae… I don’t know what to say.”

Sooyoung reached for her phone and wrote down a number, handing it to Minjeong with a small, encouraging wink. “Call me if you ever need anything. Seriously. Whether you want advice, someone to talk to, or just someone to help you practice—don’t hesitate. You’re not alone in this.”

Minjeong took the number, feeling a sense of gratitude and calm starting to fill her. “I won’t forget this, Sunbae. Thank you for everything.”

Sooyoung patted her on the shoulder, her eyes full of quiet understanding. “No need to thank me. You’re going to be just fine, Minjeongie.”

As Minjeong left the flower shop, her mind still swirled with everything she had just learned. But there was something different now—a sense of hope that maybe she could figure this out, that maybe this power of hers didn’t have to change everything. Sooyoung’s words echoed in her mind as she stepped back out into the bustling world: You can live a normal life.