I'm Doing Something A Bit Different. This Is A Inbox Call For My Mutuals! By Liking This Post, You Have

I'm doing something a bit different. This is a inbox call for my mutuals! By liking this post, you have my permission to go into my inbox with a prompt line present on any inbox memes that I've reblogged (it doesn't matter how long they've been there!) and I get to respond in character to them!

Journal Entry | October 7th

There are spirits I can tolerate—the lost souls, the ones who just want to be heard, to find peace. But then, there are others. Darker, more sinister presences that cling to people like shadows, or seep into the land itself, poisoning entire towns with their malice. These spirits... they're not just angry; they're violent, twisted things that live off the fear and misfortune of the living.

I can see them, and they can see me. That’s the problem. Some of them, when they catch sight of me, grow curious, wondering who I am, why I can see them. They follow me, like wolves circling, deciding whether I’m prey. The more aware ones—those that were human once but twisted into something far worse—talk to me. I’ve heard their threats, their promises of harm. They speak of things they’ve done, how they’ve cursed whole families or destroyed lives. Sometimes they don’t even try to hide it.

Some are puzzled by me, though. “So young,” they say, their voices rasping and dripping with disdain or amusement. They cackle when they realize I’m Ming-Ji’s granddaughter, the next one in line to continue the family’s work. A shaman, just like her, they say, voices filled with an eerie glee. They ask how long I’ll last, how much I can take before I break. Before they get to me, or worse—before I let them get to me. The way they watch me, it's like they’re waiting for the day I falter.

There’s one in particular I’ll never forget. I still feel shivers running down my spine when I think of it. It was... not human, not even close. Its body was elongated, scrawny, like all the flesh had been peeled away, leaving only bone and sinew. Its skin—what little there was of it—was stretched tight, paper-thin. And yet, for something so emaciated, it moved with such precision, like a predator toying with its prey, enjoying the chase before the kill.

Its voice... gods, I’ll never forget it. Nasally, hoarse, like it had been screaming for centuries and lost the ability to speak properly. It whispered in my ear once, when I wasn’t paying attention, too focused on another possession. "I see you, shaman. I know your name. I know your blood. And I'll be waiting."

I can still hear that voice sometimes, echoing in my mind when I least expect it. It never attacked me, not directly, but the way it watched me, the way it toyed with me like I was a piece in some game... I know it’s only biding its time. I’ve dealt with many spirits, but none like this one. None that felt so ancient, so utterly devoid of anything human.

I wonder if my grandmother ever encountered it. I never had the chance to ask her. Maybe she left it for me, like an inheritance I never wanted. All I know is that it’s still out there, lurking, waiting. And I’ll have to face it again.

- Haeseol.

# Tears of the Moon | Memories forgotten

### Scene: Who are You?

Haeseol drifted into a familiar haze, the sort of dream that didn’t quite feel like her own, but more like an echo of someone else’s life. She’d experienced these strange dream-memories before—fragments of spirits or souls that passed through her, leaving pieces behind. This time, it was different. She wasn't just watching; she was inside, feeling every detail as if it were hers.

The scene flickered to life around her. The smell of ink and old parchment filled her senses, and the soft rustling of a silk robe brushed against her skin. Her hands—no, not her hands—grasped a slender brush, carefully crafting each stroke across rice paper. She felt the weight of the brush in her fingers, the controlled precision of its movements. The light of the oil lamp was warm, and the soft glow it cast seemed to flicker as her thoughts churned.

What... what is this? Haeseol thought, panic bubbling beneath her calm exterior. But her hands—Yueliang’s hands—kept moving, dipping the brush in ink, continuing the flow of writing on the paper.

To be the Yin is to embody a role that demands sacrifice...

The words didn’t belong to her, but they filled her mind with meaning. Haeseol could feel Yueliang’s emotions weaving through each line: the burden of expectation, the unspoken weight of sacrifice. It was strange, unsettling to be so intimately connected to someone else’s thoughts, especially when she wasn’t in control. But there was a familiar thread in Yueliang’s emotions—this wasn’t so different from her own life, the pressure to maintain a certain image, to lock away parts of yourself because the world demanded it.

Is this a dream, or am I reliving her memories? The confusion gnawed at Haeseol. She could only follow the sensations, unable to break free.

A sudden chill. Haeseol—or was it Yueliang—shivered, her skin prickling with the unmistakable feeling of being watched. The familiar rush of adrenaline hit, but before she could react, a voice pierced the stillness.

“What are you writing about?”

Yueliang’s surprise was visceral. The shock, the sharp jolt of fear—they reverberated through Haeseol’s body, making her heart leap in her chest. The brush slipped from her fingers, sending ink splattering across the paper, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips. She whipped around, her pulse hammering in her ears.

He stood there. A tall man, his body disciplined and commanding, with long black hair falling past his shoulders. His red eyes gleamed in the dim light, a mix of amusement and something darker. Haeseol felt Yueliang’s reaction to him—an unspoken, complicated mixture of awe, irritation, and a sense of being completely overpowered by his presence. Zhongyuan.

Gods, he’s tall... Haeseol's thoughts blended with Yueliang’s, a disorienting swirl of fear and something else she couldn’t name.

“Zhongyuan!” she heard Yueliang’s voice tremble, felt the panic gripping her. Why am I feeling this so intensely? It was overwhelming, as though every sensation was amplified in this body.

“How long have you been standing there?” Yueliang’s voice, edged with indignation, tried to regain some semblance of composure. Haeseol wanted to pull back, retreat into herself, but there was no escape. She was bound to this moment, to Yueliang’s fear, to the wild beating of her heart.

Zhongyuan’s grin widened, the sharpness of it making Haeseol’s skin crawl. “Long enough. You shriek like a startled bird. How amusing.”

Asshole, Haeseol thought, a flash of anger surging up from within. But it wasn’t just her anger. It was Yueliang’s too, tangled with embarrassment. Haeseol could feel Yueliang struggling to maintain some level of dignity in front of him. But it was futile. The man radiated power, a raw, cold confidence that left no room for anyone else's control.

“Give it back!” Yueliang’s voice snapped, frustration mounting as Zhongyuan plucked the fallen journal from the floor. Haeseol felt Yueliang's arms flailing, pushing against his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He barely acknowledged her efforts, towering over her with a lazy sort of arrogance.

The journal. Haeseol's—or was it Yueliang’s?—stomach twisted in dread as he began flipping through the pages. A surge of humiliation washed over her, the vulnerability of having her private thoughts exposed. It was as if a part of her soul had been laid bare, and Zhongyuan’s mocking voice drove a spike through that raw vulnerability.

Zhongyuan, the embodiment of Yin... a force of nature...

Haeseol couldn’t tell where Yueliang’s mortification ended and her own began. It was too real. Too close. Every word he read aloud felt like a blow, his amusement cutting deeper with each passing moment.

“Why so protective?” His tone softened, teasing, but Haeseol could sense something more. It wasn’t just mockery. There was curiosity there, something stirring beneath his cold, composed exterior. He turned another page, reading aloud with a more serious edge.

Does he ever long for the simplicity of being just a man, without the weight of an empire resting on his shoulders?

A silence fell between them, heavy and fraught with unsaid things. Haeseol felt Yueliang’s breath catch in her throat, the way her body tensed as Zhongyuan’s eyes flickered with an emotion too fleeting to define. Loneliness. Was that what she had sensed in him all along?

“You think I’m lonely?” His voice, stripped of its usual teasing, sounded raw.

Yueliang’s—Haeseol’s—throat tightened. “I don’t know...” the words tumbled out, hesitant, unsure. “I just... I wonder if you ever wish you could just be yourself.”

The vulnerability in that moment was suffocating. Haeseol could feel Yueliang’s heart racing, her pulse thrumming like a drumbeat in her ears. The weight of their shared gaze was unbearable, as if the very air between them had thickened with the gravity of her confession.

This is too much, Haeseol thought, her own emotions blending with Yueliang’s until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I can’t breathe.

And then, just as suddenly, the tension broke. Zhongyuan handed the journal back, his touch lingering, his expression inscrutable. The mask of the Yin was back in place, but Haeseol had seen a glimpse of something deeper. Something real.

“You’re more insightful than I gave you credit for,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle.

And then he was gone, his presence vanishing like a shadow retreating into the night. Haeseol, still trapped in Yueliang’s body, stood there, clutching the journal to her chest, the warmth of his touch still lingering on her skin.

Perhaps there’s more to both of us than meets the eye.

Haeseol felt the truth of those words settle deep within her.

### Scene: The Tale Of Yueliang

In her dream, Hae-seol found herself enveloped in the body of Yueliang again, her senses sharp yet foreign as she moved through the dreamscape. It felt so real—so vivid—as if Yueliang's memories were her own. She stood at the riverbank, her grandmother’s hand gripping hers. Hae-seol’s heart jolted at the sensation. It reminded her of her own grandmother, whose touch was just as firm, just as blind.

Blind… like halmeoni? Hae-seol thought as she gazed at Han-Yi. It was strange, this merging of memories and lives. She felt Yueliang’s curiosity, her growing awareness of the vast destiny laid upon her, but within that, Hae-seol could feel her own thoughts bubbling beneath the surface.

Is this what halmeoni saw for me too? Hae-seol wondered, watching Yueliang's grandmother whisper about her fate, her role as the Yang destined to destroy the Yin. Han-Yi’s warning sounded eerily similar to the foreboding lessons Hae-seol had heard from her own family, cautioning her about forces she barely understood, about a future she was meant to face.

As the dream swept forward, Hae-seol felt herself living through Yueliang’s life. She was there when her brother died, her heart aching as if it was her own family’s grief she was witnessing. She was there when her grandmother went blind. The sorrow, the weight of responsibility, all of it settled heavily in her chest. Hae-seol wanted to scream at the injustice of it all—just like how she sometimes wished she could scream at her own life, the endless expectations and secrets her family had placed on her.

Then came the moment when Yueliang asked her mother if she would be sad if she were gone. Hae-seol felt the hesitation in the mother’s hands, the unspoken fear trembling between them. She knew this conversation too well. There were times in her own life when she had asked similar questions, testing the waters of her family’s love, wondering what her absence would truly mean.

But unlike Yueliang, I never volunteered to fight anything. The thought stung, sharper than any arrow. Yueliang's determination to face her destiny, to protect those she loved, was something Hae-seol both admired and resented. Yueliang had a choice. Hae-seol felt like she never did.

The dream shifted again, carrying Hae-seol to the day Yueliang climbed the mountain to meet Zhongyuan. As Yueliang stood before the monstrous emperor, Hae-seol felt her pulse quicken. The fear, the resolve—Yueliang’s emotions blended with Hae-seol’s own as she gazed at Zhongyuan’s cold, calculating eyes.

Is this what it means to face your fate? To willingly walk into the lion’s den? Hae-seol’s thoughts raced as Yueliang made her proposition, pleading for an end to the violence. It felt impossible, yet Yueliang believed in it so fully.

As time passed in the dream, Hae-seol watched the relationship between Yueliang and Zhongyuan change. What began in fear and enmity transformed into something deeper, more profound. Yueliang’s love for him was pure, despite the darkness of their past and the cruelty that had once defined him. Hae-seol found herself unexpectedly moved by their bond.

Can love really change everything? she wondered, the warmth of their shared moments filling her heart. It was a hope Hae-seol didn’t even realize she had carried, buried deep beneath the layers of duty and expectation.

But just as quickly as it blossomed, it was torn apart. Hae-seol felt the horror of Yueliang’s body betraying her, felt the anguish as she watched herself strike Zhongyuan down. The arrow pierced him, and in that moment, Hae-seol could feel her own heart shatter alongside Yueliang’s. Tears welled up in her eyes, the pain so overwhelming, so unbearable.

No...! I don’t want to see this! I don’t want to feel this! Hae-seol tried to pull away, but the dream kept her rooted there, forcing her to experience every excruciating second as Yueliang cradled the dying Zhongyuan in her arms.

"My love. My pain. Even my very last breath, all of it is yours."

The words echoed through Hae-seol’s mind, cutting deeper than any sword. She felt Yueliang’s despair, her desperate longing for a different fate, and for the first time, Hae-seol truly understood the cost of love. It was everything. It was pain. It was sacrifice. It was the kind of devotion that left you broken and empty, hoping for a future you might never see.

As the dream began to fade, Hae-seol heard the faint sound of Yueliang’s voice, singing a song of hope for their next life, where maybe—just maybe—they could be together again. But Hae-seol was left wondering if that kind of love, that kind of sacrifice, was worth the price.

Is this what it means to be destined for something greater? To lose everything, even the people you love?

Hae-seol woke with tears in her eyes, her chest heavy, her thoughts tangled in the threads of the dream. It was Yueliang’s story, but it felt much too close to her own.

🪷 ⁞ stardew valley game .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

Haeseol + Stardew Valley Profile

### Scene: Late night thoughts and papers

Haeseol sat cross-legged on the floor of her room, a towering stack of textbooks and assignments staring her down like some insurmountable beast. Sighing, she rubbed her temples and glanced at the engagement ring on her finger—the promise ring that still gleamed with a soft, unspoken weight. She twisted it absentmindedly, a bittersweet reminder of everything that had come to a halt. Sixteen, engaged to Shinichi Kozu, her childhood best friend, and yet here she was, buried under homework instead of planning the wedding they'd talked about for years.

Or rather, the wedding they had called off.

Her adoptive parents, Jin-Soo and Ji-Woo Kim, were halfway across the world in Korea, but they still found ways to nag her about her studies. No matter what kind of chaos she was dealing with—whether it was her fame as a revered shaman, the Red Shield keeping tabs on her, or being the subject of secret governmental interest—one thing remained constant: her grades.

“Gotta stay ahead of the game, right?” she muttered to herself, flipping open one of her notebooks. The words blurred for a moment before coming into focus, the overwhelming realization of how far behind she had fallen hitting her. Months of assignments to catch up on. It almost felt like a cruel joke.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, followed by the quiet, almost serene presence of Sayaka Inatsu, her unassuming yet formidable bodyguard. Clad in her shrine maiden robes, Sayaka entered the room with a calmness that belied her role. She wasn’t just Haeseol’s protector—she was sent by him. Shinichi Kozu.

Her fiancé.

Or... whatever he was now. The whole situation was complicated.

Sayaka gently placed a tray of tea on the desk next to Haeseol and regarded her with a soft smile. “You should take a break soon. I’ve organized your assignments by subject. You have English and mathematics due tomorrow, and your history paper on Monday.”

“Thanks, Sayaka.” Haeseol sighed, flipping through the assignments that Sayaka had already neatly arranged. It was kind of funny, having a bodyguard who not only protected her from physical threats but also ensured her homework was submitted on time.

Sayaka, as always, had been gentle but firm. If it weren’t for her, Haeseol knew she’d probably be swimming in overdue work. “Do you need help with anything?” Sayaka asked, standing nearby, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

“No, it’s fine,” Haeseol muttered, grabbing her English textbook and flipping it open. “I just... need to focus.” But she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all herself. Focus was the last thing she had these days. Her mind kept wandering back to Shinichi. Back to Japan. Back to the life they had been planning, one that now seemed distant and almost unreal.

The wedding they’d been talking about for years—it had felt so close, like it was just around the corner. But now... Now, everything had changed. They had both agreed to call it off. Shinichi, ever the composed and understanding religious figure, had accepted it gracefully. He knew better than anyone that the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Still, the thought of it left an ache in her chest. They had grown up together, always thinking they'd end up together. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

And yet, here she was, sixteen years old, with her wedding on indefinite hiatus, staring down a mountain of schoolwork. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

Sayaka, noticing the faraway look in Haeseol’s eyes, spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “Master Kozu understands, you know. He wouldn’t want you to be distracted by things beyond your control. Right now, your studies are important.”

Haeseol sighed, pushing her textbooks aside for a moment and leaning back. “I know, I know. It’s just... sometimes it feels like everything’s happening too fast. One moment, I’m just a normal kid, and the next... I’m some kind of public figure, with governments watching me, the Red Shield, the shaman stuff, on top of finding out two weeks ago that THE Captain America is my biological father...”

“And your wedding,” Sayaka finished softly.

Haeseol nodded, her eyes falling back to the ring on her finger. “Yeah. That too.”

Sayaka’s serene smile remained, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “Your path is a difficult one, but you are not walking it alone.”

“I just wish I could hit the pause button on all of this,” Haeseol said quietly, glancing at the stack of homework. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing half the time.”

Sayaka’s expression softened, and she kneeled next to Haeseol. “That’s why you take it one step at a time. Start with this assignment, and then the next. Your parents and Shinichi want you to succeed, but more than that, they want you to be happy.”

Haeseol nodded again, though the weight on her shoulders didn’t feel any lighter. “I know. I’m just tired of everything piling up, you know?”

Sayaka offered her a reassuring nod and stood, moving toward the door. “You’re strong, Haeseol. Don’t forget that. I’ll be back in a little while to check on you.” With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving Haeseol alone with her thoughts and her mountain of schoolwork.

Haeseol leaned her head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Strong. That’s what everyone kept telling her. But even strong people got tired, right?

She picked up her pen, ready to tackle her English homework. At least if she could stay ahead of her assignments, that would be one thing in her life she could control. And maybe, just maybe, everything else would fall into place eventually.

But for now, there was a pile of papers to get through.

KIM TAE RI as Gu San Yeong REVENANT 악귀, 2023