the first meeting (again)
The temple stood on a cliffside, its white marble columns gleaming under the golden light of the setting sun. Minjeong knelt before the altar, the cool stone biting into her knees, her whispered prayers carried away by the salt-laden breeze from the sea below. The smell of the ocean always brought her solace—until she met her.
Jimin.
The first time Minjeong saw her, the sea nymph had been perched on a jagged rock just beyond the shore, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders like waves in a storm. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of gray and brown, seemed to hold the entire ocean within them—wild, untamed, and impossibly alluring. Minjeong had been entranced, her heart betraying her vows of chastity and devotion to Artemis.
Jimin was unlike Minjeong had ever known. She was bold and reckless, with a voice as enchanting as the songs of her kin. But unlike the other nymphs, who lured sailors to their doom, Jimin sought connection, not destruction. She defied her kind, choosing to venture close to the human world despite Poseidon’s wrath.
Their love was a secret forged in stolen moments—soft whispers in the moonlight, tender touches beneath the shade of olive trees, and shared laughter that echoed over the waves. But secrets, no matter how carefully guarded, could not escape the watchful eyes of the gods.
When Artemis discovered the affair, her fury was swift and merciless. The goddess appeared in front of the couple in a blaze of silver light, her bow drawn and her voice as cold as the winter wind. “You swore an oath to me, Minjeong. An oath you have broken for the sake of a creature who defies the order of the sea.”
Minjeong flinches at the disgusted tone in Artemis’ voice, her hand grasping Jimin’s arm as the sea nymph stepped forward, her chin held high despite the fear in her eyes. “If you must punish someone, punish me. It was I who pursued her. She is blameless.”
But Artemis’ wrath was unyielding. Ignoring the sea nymph, she waves her hand, condemning the priestess to a fate worse than death. “You shall be reborn endlessly, a wanderer across lifetimes. Your love for Jimin will follow you like a shadow, but it will never bring you peace. One of you will always be lost to the other. This is the price for your defiance.”
Jimin’s knees hit the ground, her voice breaking as she pleaded for mercy. “Please, don’t do this. Take my life instead. Let her go.”
The goddess hesitated, a flicker of something almost human crossing her divine features. “Your devotion is admirable, nymph. I will not separate you completely.” Artemis pauses, glancing at both women who are now on their knees in front of her.
“You will meet one another again and again, in every life you live. But your love will be a fleeting thing, for I will make sure that Jimin will never remember the lives you’ve shared. You alone, Minjeong, will bear the weight of your history, and it will forever shadow your heart.”
And with that, Artemis disappeared, leaving Minjeong clutching Jimin’s trembling hands as the nymph’s form dissolved into light, their anguished cries swallowed by the wrath of the sea.
Minjeong woke with a jolt, her chest heaving as if she had been running for miles. The dream—no, the memory —still lingered, vivid and raw. The day her heart shattered into a million pieces. A roaring sea. A temple bathed in golden light. A woman’s face, her dark eyes like storms, her voice calling out Minjeong’s name.
“Jimin,” Minjeong whispered into the stillness of her small apartment, her voice trembling.
The name felt foreign on her tongue yet achingly familiar. She rubbed her eyes and swung her legs off the bed, her feet touching the cold hardwood floor. The clock on her nightstand glowed 3:17 a.m. , the same time it always does whenever she has those vivid dreams. She knew that sleep wouldn’t come again tonight.
Minjeong shuffled into her tiny kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Her laptop sat open on the table, the cursor blinking on the draft of her newest novel. It was supposed to be a contemporary romance, something lighthearted and warm, unlike any of the previous novels she had written. But the story had taken a darker turn as of late—a tale of two lovers, cursed to meet in every lifetime, only to lose each other again and again. Minjeong hadn’t planned it that way, but her hands seemed to write the tragedy on their own—writing down every lifetime, every meeting, and every heartbreak.
She set the glass down and pulled out her notebook, flipping to a page filled with sketches. Her hand traced over a rough drawing of a woman’s face; high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and eyes that seemed to hold secrets. She’d drawn it so many times, she could do it with her eyes closed. Minjeong didn’t need a reference; the image was etched into her mind.
Jimin.
The faces Jimin would wear would change, and yet still be the same. Minjeong would recognize her instantly, feel the pull of their bond as strongly as the tide.
And every time, she would watch her slip away.
As the centuries passed, Minjeong bore the weight of her memories alone. Each lifetime brought new faces, new places, but the same tragedy. She tried to avoid Jimin in some lives, hoping to spare them both the pain. But the gods were cruel, always forcing the universe to find some way to bring them together, only to tear them apart again.
The next morning, Seoul buzzed with its usual energy. Minjeong tucked her notebook under her arm and stepped out into the brisk autumn air. She’d promised Aeri, her editor and her companion, that she’d get out more. She hoped to find inspiration beyond the confines of her apartment. It wasn’t like she believed she’d actually find anything—she’d been searching for centuries, after all—but it was better than staring at a blinking cursor all day.
The streets were alive with chatter, street vendors calling out their wares, and the hum of anticipation in the air. There were posters plastered on every surface, and one image seemed to dominate them all.
Minjeong froze in her tracks. Her eyes locked onto a towering billboard. The woman in her dreams— her memories —stared back at her, larger than life, her expression cool and commanding. She was everything Minjeong remembered and yet so different. In this life, she wasn’t an alluring sea nymph or a painter or a noblewoman. She was an idol, a global superstar known as Karina, with millions of fans who adored her.
“No way,” Minjeong murmured, her heart hammering in her chest.
As if being pulled by an invisible string, Minjeong found herself weaving through the crowded streets toward the venue advertised on the billboard. Jimin—no, Karina—was performing tonight, and Minjeong had absolutely no idea what she was going to do. She just knew that she had to see her.
The concert venue was a hive of activity. Fans dressed in Karina’s signature colors of purple and light blue, lined the streets, holding banners and lightsticks. Minjeong felt wildly out of place in her plain jeans and oversized hoodie, but she didn’t care. Her heart raced as she stepped inside, clutching the last-minute ticket she’d managed to snag.
The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted into cheers as the stage lit up. Karina appeared like a vision, her presence commanding every eye in the room. Her voice soared, rich and haunting like a siren luring sailors in, sending shivers down Minjeong’s spine. She watched, mesmerized, as Karina moved across the stage with the grace of someone who had always been meant to be in the spotlight.
For a moment, Minjeong could almost believe that Karina had forgotten everything. That she was just an idol, living her life without the weight of their past. But then, as the last note of the song faded and the crowd roared, Karina’s eyes scanned the audience, as if she was searching for something. When they stopped on Minjeong, the air in the room seemed to shift.
Minjeong’s chest tightened as Karina’s confident mask faltered, her expression flickering between recognition and something that painfully resembled fear. Memories of her past fearful expressions flashed in Minjeong’s mind, making her chest feel heavier under Karina’s gaze. The connection was there, raw and undeniable, but it felt fragile—like a thread being stretched too thin, ready to snap at any given moment.
Minjeong held her breath. Time seemed to freeze. But then there was a flicker of something else in Karina’s eyes, a flicker of familiarity, like seeing a face from a half-forgotten dream. Minjeong’s heart clenched as she saw Karina shake it off, the once confused look on her face quickly replaced by a confident and bright smile, her gaze lingering on Minjeong for a second too long before moving on to face the crowd. Karina didn’t remember, but somewhere, deep down, Minjeong knew a part of her seemed to know.
After a lifetime of searching, she had found Karina again. But as she sat there, clutching the edges of her seat with trembling hands, she couldn’t shake the bittersweet ache blooming in her chest. Her Jimin didn’t remember her, not truly. Yet there was something in the way Karina’s gaze had lingered, hesitant and curious, that told Minjeong that she wasn’t completely forgotten.
It was cruel, almost—this glimmer of familiarity without the weight of recognition. Minjeong had carried their love through centuries, etched into her very soul, cursed to remember every fleeting joy and heartbreaking loss. Karina or Jimin , unknowing and unburdened, stood before her, radiant in a way that seemed almost mocking of the years that Minjeong had spent searching. The curse that bound them—cruel and unyielding—had doomed them to this endless cycle. One remembered; the other forgot.
One loved; the other remained oblivious.
The unfairness of it all threatened to consume her, but Minjeong pushed it down. She couldn’t let herself despair. Not now. She had found Karina again, and though the memories lay hidden behind Karina’s stormy eyes, there was still a flicker of something unspoken. But Minjeong knew better than to let herself hope. She had made that mistake too many times before.
Her hands tightened into fists, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to look away. If the curse had taught her anything, it was that finding Karina wasn’t enough. Each time she tried to hold on, the universe found a way to rip them apart, leaving her to pick up the shattered pieces.
No, this time she had to stay away, she would make sure of it. Minjeong’s chest aches at the thought, but she swallowed the pain. If her presence was the spark that reignited their tragedy, then she would snuff it out before it had a chance to burn. For Karina’s sake. Even if it meant walking away from the only person she had ever truly loved.