echoes of the past
The rain was relentless, pounding against the windows of the dimly lit cafe where Minjeong sat, nursing a half-empty cup of coffee. The usual hum of conversation was muted tonight, the storm outside casting an eerie stillness over the space. She didn’t mind; the quiet suited her mood.
Her notebook lay open on the table, blank except for a few scribbled lines she couldn’t bring herself to finish. Words felt futile when her thoughts were so tangled. Despite Aeri’s encouragement to take a step back, Minjeong had spent the last few days spiraling deeper into the memories of her past lives. Each one painted the same picture; a meeting, a connection, and an inevitable loss.
But this time, something gnawed at her—a glimmer of hope she didn’t want to acknowledge. Karina hadn’t just looked at her during the concert; she had seen her. That fleeting moment of recognition had stirred something inside Minjeong, something she had thought was long buried by centuries of grief.
Her pen hovered over the page as she replayed the memory for what felt like the thousandth time. The way Karina’s gaze had lingered, her brow furrowing ever so slightly as if she, too, had felt something—was it possible? Could there be a crack in the curse’s hold this time? Minjeong hated the thought of clinging to false hope, but what if this lifetime could finally be different?
The bell above the cafe door jingled, pulling her from her thoughts. Instinctively, she glanced up, her heart skipping a beat when she saw a figure shake off the rain and step inside. For a split second, she thought it was Karina. The height, the confident stance—it all matched. But as the woman turned toward the counter, Minjeong saw that her features were different, and the brief flicker of anticipation quickly faded into disappointment.
She sighed, closing her notebook with a soft thud. Her emotions were getting the better of her, and she hated it. She needed clarity, focus—things she hadn’t been able to hold onto since seeing Karina again.
“Still writing late into the night?” a familiar voice broke through her thoughts. Minjeong looked up to see Aeri sliding into the seat across from her, a knowing smile on her face.
“How’d you find me?” Minjeong asked, though her tone lacked any real curiosity. Aeri always knew where she was, the pair sharing an invisible thread that kept them connected.
Aeri shrugged, pulling her damp coat off of her shoulders, and draping it over her chair. “Call it intuition. Or the fact that you always come here when you’re trying to brood.”
“I’m not brooding,” Minjeong muttered, though her expression betrayed her words.
Aeri raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at that coffee for over an hour and haven’t touched your pen in half as long. If that’s not brooding, I don’t know what is.”
Minjeong huffed a quiet laugh despite herself. “Fine. Maybe I am. But can you blame me?”
“No,” Aeri admitted, her tone softening. “I get it. This time feels… different, doesn’t it?”
Minjeong nodded, the weight of her thoughts pressing heavily on her chest. “She looked at me, Aeri. Like, she recognized me. I don’t know if it means anything, but—”
“But you’re hoping it does,” Aeri finished for her.
Minjeong’s silence was answer enough.
Aeri leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Listen, I know you’re scared, and that you think that this will end the same way it always does. But if there’s even a chance that things could be different this time, don’t you owe it to yourself to try?”
Minjeong hesitates, her fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup. “What if I end up hurting her again? What if I bring her into this, and it all falls apart, just like it always does?”
Aeri reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Minjeong’s. “You can’t keep living in fear of the past. You’ve carried this burden for so long, Minjeong. Maybe it’s time to let her decide if she wants to carry it with you.”
The weight of Aeri’s words settled over her, and for a moment, Minjeong didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure if she could bear to hope again, but deep down, she knew Aeri was right. No matter how much she kept running from Karina, her heart was pulling her towards her, whether Minjeong wanted it or not.
Across town, Karina lies awake in her bed, the faint glow of her phone illuminating the dark room. She had spent the past hour scrolling aimlessly through social media, trying to distract herself from the thoughts that refused to leave her alone.
Her fingers hovered over the search bar, the urge to type in anything that might lead her to the girl she couldn’t stop thinking about seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. She didn’t even know what she was looking for—all she could remember were the girl’s facial features.
Karina could recall every detail, as if the girl had been a portrait she’d studied for hours. But still, the need to find her gnawed at her, an itch she couldn’t scratch.
Frustrated, Karina tossed her phone across the bed and rubbed her hands over her face. “What is wrong with me?” she muttered to herself.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, but the image of the girl from the concert danced behind her eyelids. There was something about her, something Karina couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just attraction; it was deeper than that. It felt like… recognition. Like she had seen her before, in another time, another place.
But that was impossible. Right?
Karina sighed, rolling onto her side as rain pattered softly against the window. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, a voice whispered that this was just the beginning. Giving in to the persistent curiosity, she picked up her phone again and typed into the search bar: "fan photos concert."
Karina’s heart raced as she scrolled through her social media feed, a mix of fan posts and tagged pictures from her recent concert. It was a mindless habit, one meant to distract her from the unease that had settled in her chest, but then she saw it. A candid photo caught her eye: a blonde girl in the audience, caught mid-turn as if startled, her features unmistakable. Karina froze, her heart skipping a beat. Could it be her?
She clicked on the account that had shared the photo, her curiosity overpowering her hesitation. The profile belonged to a fan, filled with posts about Karina’s music and moments from her concerts. But one post, in particular, stood out. "Caught this candid of author Kim Minjeong watching the concert! Can’t believe I finally met her in person!” the caption read, the post containing the candid photo of the mysterious girl and a selfie with the fan. The photo sent a jolt through Karina, and she quickly opened the comments, scanning for more context.
Who was Kim Minjeong? And why did her face linger in Karina’s memory like a half-forgotten dream? Karina’s search deepened, and soon, she found herself staring at the author’s social media account. It was understated, with posts about books, musings on life, and the occasional landscape photo. Her bio was simple, but one link caught Karina’s attention: "My Stories." Intrigued, Karina tapped on it and was redirected to a sleek website showcasing novels.
Each cover was exquisitely done, and titles that teased at her curiosity lined the shelves, most being romance and reincarnation novels. "Kim Minjeong," the name read. Karina scanned the synopses. She could find an uncanny familiarity between the themes of the stories and the feelings inside her chest. Her mind was racing as she clicked on one of the excerpts; the descriptions of eternal love and destiny tugged at her as if they were reflections of something deeply buried. Could it be a coincidence, or was there something more to the uncanny familiarity she felt? Who was this author, and why did her stories resonate so strongly?
Her breath hitched. Could this girl's stories somehow be connected to the strange pull she was feeling? The more Karina read, however, she realized that some of these plotlines either said or mirrored the emotions she could not pinpoint but knew intimately well. And as she read further into the stories, her chest became tighter and tighter, as if tugging fragments of a forgotten past. Questions swam in her mind, and along with them grew an unbreakable resolve to seek her out. This was something much more than just the start, something much larger, something that she could no longer ignore. She needed the answers, and somehow, this author held those answers.