Pov Author
The room was dim.
Anna, Shou Feng, and Kiyoshi sat close together on the edge of Shou Feng's bed. The curtains swayed slightly with the night breeze slipping in through the half-open window. The air felt heavy — like something important was about to shift.
Shou Feng's hands rested loosely in his lap, but his fingers were tense.
"The book," he said quietly, his voice steady yet distant, "the book where your father disappeared… it was from my place."
Anna froze.
"What?" Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face.
"Yes."
Kiyoshi didn't interrupt, but his gaze sharpened.
Shou Feng inhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully.
"After the storm that day, I started searching for my fox. He had disappeared. I thought he was just frightened by the thunder… but he never came back."
Anna leaned forward slightly. "Your fox?"
He nodded.
"We were Asians from the beginning. We came from Korea when I was young. Adjusting here wasn't easy. School was different. People were different. I was… different." His lips curved faintly, but there was no humor in it. "But that's another story."
His eyes met Anna's.
"The important part is this — my father knew the book was precious. Dangerous. I didn't."
The room grew quieter.
"Instead of informing the museum after the storm damage, he brought the book home. He kept it hidden in a safe. For years." His voice lowered. "He never let me enter his study."
---
Years Ago
The storm had passed, but the ground was still damp, the air still thick with leftover thunder.
Arin stood in the backyard, scanning every corner.
"Baek…" he called softly.
His red-white fox was nowhere to be found.
He checked near the fence, under the porch, behind the old tree where Baek liked to sleep. Nothing.
Rainwater dripped from the mansion roof in steady drops.
Frustrated and worried, he stepped back inside.
Upstairs, in the study, his father stood near the desk.
The book was on the table
Ancient. Heavy. Bound in dark leather carved with unfamiliar symbols that seemed almost etched by something more than human hands. The title said The Legend Of Shou Feng .
His father stared at it for a long moment.
He knew.
The museum did not understand what they possessed. They thought it was an artifact — rare, yes, but harmless.
They were wrong.
He had seen enough. Read enough. Felt enough.
So instead of reporting it missing after the storm chaos—
He took it.
Not for greed.
But for protection.
He placed the book inside the steel safe in the corner of the room. The metal door shut with a quiet but final click.
The study door creaked open.
"Father?"
Arin stood there, damp hair falling over his forehead.
"Have you seen Baek?"
His father immediately stepped away from the safe.
"No," he answered calmly. "You shouldn't be outside."
Arin stepped inside slightly, glancing around the room. His eyes lingered for a second on the safe.
"Why don't you let me come in here?" he asked softly.
His father paused.
Some things are not meant to be touched, he thought.
Aloud, he simply said, "Because some things are better left alone."
Arin nodded slowly.
He didn't argue.
But his gaze lingered on the safe once more before he left.
And curiosity…
Curiosity waits patiently.
The sky that evening was the color of wet ash.
•
•
•
Eight Years later rain had stopped only hours ago, but the air still carried the scent of storm and sorrow. The house stood heavy with silence — not the peaceful kind, but the kind that pressed against the chest and made breathing feel like work.
Inside, candles flickered beside a framed photograph.
His father's funeral had drawn people from everywhere — neighbors, distant relatives, strangers who spoke in hushed voices and bowed their heads with sympathy. Black clothes moved through the halls like shadows.
On the balcony above it all, a seventeen-year-old boy stood alone.
Shou Feng.
Or at least, that was the name the world knew him by.
He stood straight, hands resting on the railing, dark eyes unmoving. His expression revealed nothing — not grief, not anger, not confusion. Just stillness.
The wind brushed his hair slightly, but even that failed to disturb him.
Footsteps approached.
"Hey."
He didn't turn.
A boy about his age leaned against the balcony entrance, dressed sharply but with a careless confidence that didn't belong at a funeral. Light brown hair. Easy smirk. Curious eyes.
"I'm William," he said casually. "And you are the boy everyone's whispering about."
Shou Feng slowly looked at him.
"I am Arin."
William blinked.
"Arin?" He laughed lightly. "Wow. I thought you'd have a Chinese name."
Arin's gaze narrowed — not dramatically, not aggressively. Just slightly.
William raised his hands playfully. "Relax. I can't even tell if you're threatening me or not. Your eyes never change."
He leaned closer, studying him.
"Seriously… do you sleep like this? I mean, your eyes are always half-closed. How do people know if you're awake?"
There was mockery in his tone, but Arin did not respond. His silence made William uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain.
Before William could speak again, soft footsteps echoed from the hall.
And then she appeared.
She stepped onto the balcony like a quiet storm.
The black satin dress hugged her form, flowing down in elegant folds. A high slit revealed a glimpse of her leg as she walked, graceful and effortless. Thin straps rested on her shoulders. Her long dark hair fell over her back like silk. The dim balcony light traced the curve of her collarbone.
Anna Brown.
William let out a low whistle.
Arin forgot how to breathe.
His gaze locked onto her — not crude, not greedy — but stunned. As if he had never seen something so striking before.
She wasn't smiling. Her eyes carried something soft… distant… like she didn't quite belong among the mourning crowd either.
William caught Arin staring.
"Gorgeous, huh?" he muttered. "Anna Brown. Most beautiful girl in my school."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"It's a shame she's weak though. But her body…" he exhaled sharply, smirking, "it just calls me. You know what I'm going to do to her tomorrow? I'll—"
The punch landed before the sentence could finish.
A sickening crack echoed across the balcony.
William fell backward onto the marble floor, nose instantly bleeding. His laughter was gone — replaced by shock.
Arin stood over him, fist trembling slightly. His knuckles split open, blood sliding down his fingers.
For the first time — his eyes changed.
They were cold.
Deadly.
Guests rushed out at the noise. Gasps. Shouting. Someone helped William up. His nose was stained red, anger burning in his eyes.
Anna looked up.
Her gaze found Arin.
For a brief second, their eyes met.
But she couldn't fully see him through the chaos. Only the silhouette of a boy standing still as people pulled him back.
His mother arrived, furious and embarrassed. She grabbed his arm.
"What have you done?!" she whispered harshly, dragging him inside.
The party ended shortly after.
Silence returned.
---
Later that night…
The house was empty of guests.
Rain began again.
Arin stood in his father's study.
The room smelled of old paper and wood polish. The large safe in the corner stood slightly open — something it had never done before.
His father had never allowed him inside this room alone.
Never.
Arin stepped closer.
Inside the safe was the book.
Ancient. Leather-bound. Symbols carved into its cover that seemed almost alive under dim light.
He hesitated only a second before lifting it.
The moment his fingers brushed the cover, something inside him tightened.
The air shifted.
The room grew unnaturally cold.
He opened the case fully.
Then slowly… he opened the book.
The pages weren't blank — they moved. Symbols twisted like smoke. Ink shimmered as if breathing.
A low hum filled the room.
"What…?" he whispered.
The wind outside roared suddenly, slamming the windows open.
The pages flipped violently.
Light burst from the center of the book — blinding, silver-white.
Arin tried to step back.
But the floor beneath him cracked like glass.
A force gripped his body.
And in one breath — one impossible second — he was pulled forward.
Sucked into the book.
The study fell silent.
The book dropped to the ground.
Closed.
As if nothing had ever happened.
---
Back to the present.
The room was quiet.
Anna's breathing had grown shallow without her realizing it.
Shou Feng finished speaking.
"…That was the night," he said quietly.
Kiyoshi remained silent.
After a moment, Shou Feng turned slightly.
"Kiyoshi," he said softly. "Can you leave us alone for a second?"
Kiyoshi studied his face, then nodded once.
He stood and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.
And now—
Only Shou Feng and Anna remained.
Silence thick between them.
He stopped breathing.
For a long, aching moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
He kissed her.
Not soft. Not gentle. It was hungry and desperate and seven years too late. His hands found her waist, pulling her against him like she was the only solid thing in a world that had tried to drown him. Anna's fingers twisted into his shirt, pulling him closer, matching his intensity.
The kiss deepened. His mouth moved against hers like he was learning a language he'd waited his whole life to speak. They stumbled backward, blindly, until Anna's knees hit the edge of the bed.
They fell together onto the mattress.
Arin hovered above her, one hand braced beside her head, the other still gripping her waist. His dark eyes—usually so unreadable—were blazing now, stripped of every wall he'd built.
"Anna," he breathed.
Just her name. But it sounded like a prayer.
He dipped his head, lips brushing against her jaw. A sharp inhale from her. Then lower—the side of her neck, where her pulse hammered wildly against her skin. His mouth was hot, urgent, leaving a trail of fire everywhere it touched.
Anna's head fell back, a soft sound escaping her throat.
His lips traced lower, finding the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder. She felt the scrape of his teeth—gentle but deliberate—and her fingers tightened in his hair. Then lower still. The line of her collarbone, exposed by the thin strap of her dress. He kissed there, once, twice. Then his mouth lingered, warm and insistent, lips parting against her skin.
Her breathing turned ragged.
Every nerve in her body was alive, burning where he touched, aching where he didn't. His breath against her skin was unsteady—he was unsteady—and somehow that made it more real than anything.
His lips dragged lower, finding the hollow of her throat, the delicate curve where her collarbone met her shoulder. He kissed there like he was claiming her. Like he was branding himself into her memory.
"Arin," she whispered, his name breaking from her lips like a confession.
He lifted his head just enough to look at her.
His eyes were dark, searching, vulnerable in a way she'd never seen. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His lips were slightly parted, bruised from kissing her.
"I've waited," he said, his voice rough. "Ten years. I didn't even know if you were real. If that night was real." He touched her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "And now you're here. In my arms. And I don't know how to be gentle about this, Anna. I don't know how to hold back."
She reached up, touching his face. Her thumb traced his lower lip.
"Then don't," she whispered.
Something snapped in his eyes.
He kissed her again—harder this time, deeper. His hand slid from her waist, fingers grazing the bare skin of her leg where the slit of her dress had fallen open. The touch was electric. Anna arched into him, a soft moan escaping into his mouth.
His lips left hers again, trailing down her throat, lower, slower. He kissed the curve of her breast where the satin of her dress barely covered her. Her breath hitched. His mouth lingered there, hot through the thin fabric, before moving back to her collarbone, tracing the same path again like he couldn't get enough.
His teeth grazed her skin. Gentle. Then not so gentle.
Anna's fingers dug into his shoulders.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.Inside, the world had narrowed to just the two of them—his weight above her, his breath on her skin, the desperate way he held her like she might disappear.
He kissed lower, lips brushing the top of her chest, and Anna's eyes fluttered closed.
"Arin…"
His name on her lips made him shudder.
He lifted his head again, meeting her eyes. His were dark with want, but there was something else there too. Wonder. Like he couldn't believe she was real.
"I'm not letting you go," he said quietly. "Not now. Not ever."
Anna pulled him down again.
And the night swallowed them both.
To be continued...