Rain came softly at first.
Just a gentle whisper against the rooftop tiles as Haeun stood beneath the glow of a flickering rooftop light, staring into the Seoul skyline. Her fingers brushed the ring absentmindedly—its pulse had faded, but its presence still weighed heavy. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Sunwoo: Where are you? Please tell me you're not alone.
She stared at the screen for a long moment before replying.
Haeun: I'm safe. Just… needed air.
The reply was instant.
Sunwoo: If anything happens, call me. I mean it.
Something about his worry felt warm, protective—but a little too familiar. She'd only known him for a few weeks. Why did he care so much?
Before she could spiral down that train of thought, a knock came from the rooftop door. She turned, half-expecting Sunwoo—but it was her roommate, Mirae, holding a steaming cup of instant ramen in one hand and an umbrella in the other.
"You're going to catch pneumonia out here, drama queen," Mirae said, walking over.
"I needed a moment."
"I figured. You disappeared and didn't touch your dumplings."
Haeun cracked a weak smile. "Blasphemy."
Mirae plopped down beside her and offered the ramen. "Spill it. Is this about the CEO or the cute barista?"
"Both," Haeun muttered.
Mirae's eyes widened. "Wait. You're actually in a triangle? Is this one of those Webnovel plotlines where the rich CEO and the mysterious nice guy both have secrets?"
"You'd be surprised," Haeun said quietly.
Mirae looked at her seriously. "Hey. Whatever this is, don't lose yourself in it, okay? You've come too far to get swallowed by someone else's world."
That landed hard. Haeun nodded.
But she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't someone else's world anymore.
It was hers too.
---
Meanwhile – Café Minuet, Closing Hour
Sunwoo wiped down the counter in slow, circular motions, the rag soaked and wrung out so many times it had gone limp in his hand. The café was empty except for him and the hum of low jazz from the ceiling speakers.
Behind him, the antique mirror caught a flicker of movement.
"You can stop pretending now," came a low voice.
Sunwoo didn't flinch. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
Jinhwan stepped out from the shadows near the doorway. No coat, no driver—just his tall frame, crisp shirt, and eyes sharp with quiet hostility.
"You followed her," Sunwoo said.
"She had the ring. I had to."
Sunwoo's jaw tensed. "You always think you have to. That's the problem."
Jinhwan approached the counter, picking up a ceramic cup as if inspecting it. "Funny. I was thinking the same about you."
They stood in silence for a beat.
Two men. Two lifetimes. One woman—again caught in the crossfire of something ancient.
"She's starting to remember," Sunwoo finally said.
"I know."
"And?"
Jinhwan set the cup down gently. "And I won't let her die this time."
Sunwoo stepped forward. "That's not your decision to make."
Jinhwan's eyes narrowed. "It was before. And look how that ended."
Silence stretched between them—old, bitter, unspoken. This wasn't their first conflict. Not even their first life of conflict.
Sunwoo exhaled. "History doesn't have to repeat. But you'll make it, won't you? With your rules and bloodlines and curses."
Jinhwan gave a mirthless smile. "That's rich—coming from someone hiding behind a coffee counter."
"And yet," Sunwoo said, voice low and even, "she comes to me when she's afraid. Not you."
That hit its mark.
Jinhwan didn't respond. He just turned and walked out, his coat catching the wind as the café door shut behind him with a final click.
---
Next Morning – Campus Courtyard
Haeun sipped her vending machine coffee, staring blankly at the water fountain where freshmen usually took group selfies.
Everything looked the same.
Nothing felt the same.
She hadn't slept. Her mind had been a carousel of dreams—faces she didn't know but somehow loved, places she'd never been but missed deeply. A shrine. A field of fire. A man kneeling in blood, calling her name.
"Haeun?"
She turned sharply. It was Professor Seo—their mythology lecturer.
"Hi, Professor," she said, quickly standing and bowing.
"You looked a little pale. Are you feeling alright?"
She hesitated. "Just… tired. Long night."
He smiled kindly. "You know, you can always reach out if you're overwhelmed. Even if it's not school related."
She nodded, appreciative. "Thank you."
As he walked away, she realized something unsettling.
Professor Seo's ring.
It had a fox engraved on the side.
Just like hers.
---
Afternoon – Hanwol Tower Private Library
Jinhwan paced between shelves lined with gold-edged books, most untouched in decades. The private wing of the tower held more secrets than the boardroom—and one of those secrets now sat open in his hands.
A journal. Dated 1894. Written in hangul script by a woman named Yun Seo-hyeon.
Her words shook him.
"He warned me that love would kill me. That fate was unchangeable. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw defiance. I saw the man he could have been. I loved him anyway."
The page was stained. Dried petals pressed between the next.
She had been the first.
And Haeun—her face, her pain—was the echo.
---
Evening – Haeun's Dorm Room
Mirae was out with her boyfriend. Haeun sat alone on the floor, legs crossed, papers and printouts scattered around her.
She'd begun researching fox spirits, reincarnation myths, cursed bloodlines—anything that might explain the burning ring and the strange visions.
A name kept appearing: Gumiho. The nine-tailed fox. Often portrayed as seductive, dangerous—female.
But sometimes… it was the man who bore the curse.
She glanced at the ring again. It wasn't burning now. Just… watching. Waiting.
There was a knock at the door.
She opened it—and Sunwoo stood there, drenched from the rain.
"I need to tell you everything," he said.