Mystical Fantasy : Not the Destiny Heroine

Jinhyuk's footsteps echoed down the dormitory hallway. The morning sun, now starting to grow hot, cast shadows beneath his worn-out sneakers.

His dorm room. He hadn't touched the door in four days.

Click.

As the door opened, two pairs of eyes immediately turned.

"Oh," said the skinny, glasses-wearing guy near the computer desk. "You're finally back."

His name was Han Minho.

Another guy, with semi-long hair and headphones on, was leaning against the wall beside a girl. His name was Taeyang. The two exchanged slightly awkward glances before standing up.

"Jinhyuk... we... we heard about what happened," said the guy with the glasses. "Sorry… we didn't get a chance to visit the police station."

"Me too…" Taeyang added, resting his hand on the wall. "I... was working on a big business thing with my girlfriend and… yeah, it's been crazy busy. Really sorry, bro."

The girl beside him bowed politely. "Sorry too, sunbae…"

Jinhyuk stayed silent for a moment. Then he threw his exhausted body onto the bed and lay down.

"It's not your fault. I didn't expect anyone to come anyway."

Han Minho and Taeyang exchanged glances, then sat back down—returning to their own activities, though the awkward tension still lingered in the room.

"Oh, right," Minho approached and whispered, "This morning… Yoon Seri came looking for you."

Jinhyuk's blood felt like it stopped flowing.

"She was asking how you were," added Taeyang. "She said she only just found out about you being taken by the police. She seemed… a little worried. Did you meet her?"

Jinhyuk just stared blankly at the ceiling.

His mind was a mess.

Seri's face… her footsteps… her cold voice at the police station… her warm embrace—but not for him.

For that man.

For a figure Jinhyuk still didn't know.

A bitter lump blocked his throat. He wanted to hope, to believe there was still something between them. But the image of that embrace kept slashing through his chest again and again.

"Jinhyuk?" Minho called softly.

"I… saw her."

"Oh… I see," said Taeyang. "Uh… about the news… I mean… the whole…"

"Theft?" Jinhyuk cut in. His tone was calm. Too calm.

His two friends fell silent, not daring to respond.

Jinhyuk raised his hand, staring at the black ring on his middle finger.

A faint white glimmer—like it was mocking his cracking mind.

"I don't know what happened either. You could say… yeah, it's true. But also not really."

Kang Minho frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jinhyuk didn't answer. He simply clutched at his chest, which suddenly felt tight. Then his right hand—the one with the ring—pressed gently against the left side of his chest. As if trying to force his heart to stop beating.

But he couldn't.

Because the pain wasn't from his body.

It came from within.

From something… far deeper than just a wound.

---

Night had fallen. Jinhyuk had just woken from a long nap—his first rest since the cold nights spent at the police station.

The dorm lights were half off. Across the room, Taeyang and Minho's beds were empty. As usual, they were probably out enjoying the night with laughter, music, and light alcohol. Their lives were comfortable.

Unlike his.

He slowly got out of bed, changed shirts, put on a thin hoodie and jeans. His steps toward the door seemed weightless… though the burden in his heart felt hundreds of tons heavy.

Night wind greeted him as he descended the dorm stairs. The sky over Seoul was a little cloudy. The clamor of cars and human voices formed a harmony in a city that never truly slept.

His stomach growled softly.

Jinhyuk reached into his wallet—it was almost empty. Enough for maybe one or two simple meals. It had been nearly a month since his last part-time job. And his family... was no longer around. Seri's family used to help him, repaying the kindness of his parents.

But now?

Even reaching out to them felt impossible.

Shame. Pride. And maybe… it no longer mattered.

His eyes scanned the small food stalls and fast-food joints along the back streets of the campus.

Gimbap? Tteokbokki? Or instant ramen...

But his steps halted.

From afar, he heard shouting and jeering.

"What the hell is this? You ruined my appetite!"

"Ugh, disgusting freak! What if our food's contaminated now?!"

Someone was kicked out of a cheap diner.

A small body was thrown onto the wet pavement. She crawled, her face down. Long, tangled hair. Tattered work clothes. Her hands covered in cuts, her body smeared with food waste hurled from plates.

Some onlookers laughed… others ignored.

Jinhyuk frowned.

He couldn't even tell… was that a girl? Or… was that even human?

Her face was unrecognizable. Scarred, gray-toned skin, and a frame so thin she looked like a walking skeleton.

Is that... a person?

But curiosity pulled him closer.

He watched as the figure tried to stand, only for a drunken customer—arrogant and sneering—to kick her again.

"Look at you! So disgusting!"

The employees just watched. The restaurant owner… even smiled slightly, as if to say: not my problem.

"You work here looking like that? Hah?" mocked the drunk man.

Jinhyuk held his breath.

He looked slowly… into the girl's eyes. That gaze was empty. Dead. No sign of life or hope. As if this kind of treatment was normal for her.

But beneath that void—there was something. A flicker. Like the faint light of a star long extinguished.

Jinhyuk stepped forward.

"Excuse me," he said softly. "What's going on here?"

The man turned. "None of your business. Get lost."

"Please, sir, don't be impulsive," Jinhyuk said, his gaze sharpening.

"Not your business, kid. Don't butt in! Who wouldn't be pissed seeing a face that disgusting? Haha."

"All this just because of how she looks?" Jinhyuk asked.

He turned to see the girl more clearly. Somehow, part of him understood why people reacted this way. But still, their actions weren't right.

Jinhyuk looked around at the onlookers. All silent. Some chuckled.

"You're all just standing by watching someone get kicked around because… she's not pretty?"

The girl remained expressionless, seemingly indifferent. But her shoulders trembled slightly.

"She's filthy, she's disgusting!" the man yelled. "And you—you don't look much better than her!"

The man tried to kick again.

But—instinctively—Jinhyuk caught his leg.

His right hand's grip felt strange. Warm. As if blood and energy within him surged rapidly.

And when he shifted his foot just a bit…

—BOOM.

A slight counter-move—and the drunk man was launched backward, crashing into the restaurant wall.

CRAAKK!

People screamed. The man groaned, nearly unconscious.

Jinhyuk froze. His hand trembled.

"What… was that?" he muttered.

All eyes turned to him. Shocked. Fearful.

Including the girl.

Those eyes—once hollow—now slowly lifted to meet Jinhyuk's.

---