(Tip: Listen to the song above "Reborn" by Arina tara after finishing the epilogue~or maybe before!
Depends on you~
you'll get the feel
Enjoy)
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"AaaAHHHhacccHhoou-"
Damn, the goblet with it's curves and edges really collected a lot of dust!
Sniffing a little, I got back to working to make it squeaky clean.
The museum had come to life in the cabin, with every corner telling pieces of his story. The walls, once bare, were adorned with his artwork-charcoal sketches capturing fragile memories, oil paintings that bled sorrow and love in equal measure.
I had even displayed fragments of his poetry, written in his neat, deliberate hand on yellowed parchment. I wanted his life, his art, his story to linger for anyone who ventured this far into the woods.
But not everything was open for viewing. A part of me clung fiercely to those Polaroids-the ones I had taken during those haunting nights when his spirit moved through the air like a whisper. There was one image in particular, the one taken of his coffin, his face peaceful in repose, that remained hidden in a wooden drawer in the attic. That image felt too intimate, too sacred, for the eyes of strangers.
Most days, the museum remained quiet, with few visitors finding their way here.
But I didn't mind. The solitude felt right, as if this place belonged to him and me alone, a secret kept between us.
As I was cleaning the goblet used in his final ritual, the silence was broken by an unexpected knock at the door.
It startled me; the museum was closed for the weekend, and nobody should have been out here. My fingers tightened around the goblet as I debated whether to answer or ignore it.
But curiosity pulled me forward. With a steadying breath, I approached the door, my hand hesitating on the knob. When I finally opened it, the world seemed to tilt off its axis.
Standing there, his silhouette framed by the dying light of dusk, was
Jungkook
Or at least, that's what my heart screamed as I took in the same round doe eyes, the pale skin, the curve of his lips with the familiar mole beneath.
My vision blurred, and I felt myself sway as if I might collapse.The goblet slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a clang, but I barely registered it.
My breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, and just before my legs gave out, the figure in the doorway stepped forward, he widened his eyes and caught me before I dropped to the ground. My breaths were heavy as I asked, "Y-you?! How-"
He opened his mouth in shock, still holding me close. Steadying me with firm hands, warm on my waist, he breathed out
"Whoa, are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. It was softer than Jungkook's but carried the same warmth, the same gentleness. He held me upright, his touch grounding yet surreal.
"J-Jungkook?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He looked at me, his expression puzzled, then gave a small, hesitant smile. "Close, but my name's Jeongguk," he said, the words coming out in a slow exhale, as if he were still trying to place me. "But...how did you know?"
My head spun. He couldn't be here. Jungkook was gone, his spirit laid to rest in the ritual. And yet, this man-this living, breathing person standing before me-was the spitting image of him. His eyes, his expression, even the faint sadness lurking in his gaze was the same.
I stared at him, mouth gaping, struggling to process the impossibility of it all. "I...I don't understand."
His appearance was a little different though, black turtleneck, piercings and undercut?? My cheeks might have turned a little redder than usual.
He pulled me up and backed a bit after steadying me on my feet. I looked at him petrified as he blinked couple of times, tilting his head cutely, studying me as though he, too, were searching for some kind of connection.
"I'm sorry if I frightened you," he said, his voice gentle. "I didn't mean to. I...was just passing through and saw the cabin. It felt familiar somehow."
The world shifted again, this time with a strange clarity. It was as though fate had drawn him here, as though Jungkook himself had pulled him to this place. "You...felt familiar?" I asked, my voice shaking.
He gave a slight nod, his lips curving into a small, tentative smile. "I just moved to the neighborhood, and... well, I saw this place the other day. I noticed it's a private museum, and I wanted to see if you might need any help? I'm looking for some work while I get settled."
I stared, still reeling, before managing a response. "Work?"
He laughed softly, as if sensing my confusion. "I know it's strange, but I have a bit of experience with art, and I was hoping for a part-time position. Anything, really."
"Also I've never been here before, but when I saw the museum sign outside, something in me just...ached. Like a memory I couldn't quite grasp." he rubbed his nape a little flustered.
My heart clenched. I wondered if some part of Jungkook's spirit had remained, manifesting in this man, this stranger with his face and his sorrow.
"Come in," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Thanking me, he stepped inside, I could see him take in the space, his gaze lingering on the walls filled with Jungkook's art. He moved slowly, almost reverently, his fingers tracing the edges of the frames as if he could sense the emotions infused in each piece.
"This...this is incredible," he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "It's like...someone poured their soul into this place."
I stared at him dazed. How? Just how is this possible?
"He did," I replied softly, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. "He really did."
Jeongguk turned to me, a question in his eyes. "Who was he? Do you know him personally?"
I swallowed hard, trying to find the words to explain Jungkook's story-the darkness he'd carried, the love that had defined his life, and the tragic ritual that had finally set him free. I clenched my fists.
"He was an incredible artist," I began, my voice trembling with the weight of memory. "But he was also...more than that. His life was filled with pain, but he loved so deeply that it transcends time and space, even in his sorrow. He was trapped here, bound by the choices he made, by his past."
Jeongguk's expression softened, and for a moment, I could have sworn he understood, as if he'd felt the same weight in his own soul. He observed me in a trance.
I gestured for him to follow me to a small niche in the corner of the room, where I kept some of Jungkook's personal belongings-the journal, the charred remains of the coffin, the candles that had burned during the ritual. Jeongguk's gaze lingered on them, his brow furrowing as though he were piecing together fragments of a forgotten dream.
"It's strange," he said finally, his voice a soft murmur. "I feel like I knew him . It's like...I'm looking into a past I never lived, but somehow, it's still a part of me."
Goosebumps
My breath caught, a shiver running down my spine. "Maybe...maybe you were," I whispered, more to myself than to him.
Jeongguk turned to me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Did he...leave behind anything? Maybe something he wanted the world to know? He is really...expressive in his paintings"
I hesitated, then pulled out Jungkook's journal from the drawer where I had kept it hidden. I placed it in Jeongguk's hands, watching as he traced the worn cover with a strange familiarity, as if he could feel the echoes of Jungkook's thoughts lingering within the pages.
He opened it, skimming the words with an intensity that mirrored Jungkook's own, his brow furrowing as he read. There was a look of pain in his eyes, a recognition that seemed to run deeper than words could explain.
"He wanted to be remembered," I said softly. "For the love he held, not for the mistakes he made. He wanted his story to live on, to be more than just a shadow in the past."
Jeongguk nodded slowly, his eyes glistening . "I...I feel like he was in deep pain...his writings, it makes me feel weirdly sad and hollow..."
He closed the journal and looked up at me, a plea in his eyes. "Would you mind if I stayed here? Just for a while. I'd like to get to know him, to understand...whatever this feeling is."
The request caught me off guard, but I felt an undeniable pull to let him stay. Perhaps he was meant to be here, a living bridge between the past and the present, a chance for Jungkook's spirit to find the peace he had always longed for. My heart skipped a beat when we locked eyes.
"I'd like that," I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
The days that followed were surreal. Jeongguk spent hours in the cabin, helping with the visitors, studying Jungkook's artwork, reading his journal, and even sitting quietly in the spots where I remembered Jungkook's presence most strongly.
It was as if he were communing with a spirit only he could see, and in those moments, I felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia wash over me.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the forest, Jeongguk and I sat on the cabin's porch, watching the colors bleed across the sky. Today was a very busy day. But a little bearable as Jeongguk was there to help.
He turned to me, his expression thoughtful. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with quiet gratitude.
"For sharing his story with me...And letting me in. I feel like...like I've found a part of myself I didn't even know was missing."
I placed my hand over his, feeling a warmth that felt both familiar and new. "Maybe that was always the purpose of this place," I replied.
I turned to look back at woods behind the cabin but felt eyes burning on me.
"I guess so..."
The warmth in his voice caught me off guard, and something in him too-a trace of recognition he likely didn't realize. A bittersweet feeling settled over me, one I couldn't name.
After lazing around a little more, I returned to the museum room, glancing at the walls now painted with fleeting light. The weight of those memories felt lighter somehow, as if they were at rest. I walked to the small drawer where I kept another photograph of Jungkook and traced my fingers over it before gently closing it again.
Jeongguk left later that afternoon, promising to return the next day. I stood in the doorway as he walked away, watching his figure disappear into the forest path, remaining sunlight dappling over him.
Just before he faded from view, he turned, offering a smile that was both familiar and wholly new. The breeze caressing and ruffling his hair gently.
My heartbeat might have picked up a bit. I returned the smile and waved .
I closed the door and leaned my back on it. I was grateful, really grateful that I got to meet him once again, in flesh and blood, living. I felt a strange peace settle over the room, as if the past and present were now layered together, overlapping in quiet harmony. Yet as I walked back through the museum, the thought tugged at me-was it just coincidence or, life gave him a second chance?
I sighed and smiled as I looked at the hidden photo. What are the chances?
A/n:
I myself can't stand sad endings so yeah. It's not a happy one I'd say but more bittersweet with hints of upcoming hope and love probably.
Please vote and comment what you think of Jeongguk. I would love to hear your thoughts about him.
With love and hugs
-sacredalpha
#DO NOT PLAGIARIZE PLZ : ( #