Lee Minho

Jisung simply wanted to find the herbs he needed in the forest. Nothing special, just a casual foray, almost a stroll if you ignored the rumors circulating about the area. He knew the forest was dangerous. He'd known it since childhood, when his parents would hushed their voices and talk about witches, ogres, and creatures best avoided. But knowledge is one thing, and caution is quite another.

Firstly, Jisung wasn't particularly prudent. Secondly, he had a nasty habit of thinking himself invulnerable. And thirdly, and this was the most dangerous part, he sincerely believed he was the main character of his own story. And, as we all know, nothing bad can happen to main characters. At least, that's what he thought.

So now, as he was being dragged somewhere, roughly and unceremoniously, stuffed into a sack, for the first time in a long time, he began to doubt his own theory of the world. Through the thick fabric, he felt jerks, the creaking of branches, heavy footsteps on roots, and then a sharp descent, as if he were being carried down a staircase leading underground or deep into someone's lair.

He was thrown carelessly to the floor. The blow was hard enough to knock the wind out of his chest. Jisung, choking and coughing, finally managed to pull his head out of the bag, ready to utter something heroic, like an accusatory "witch!" or at least a dignified cry for help.

But the words stuck in his throat.

Before him stood neither an old sorceress nor a monster with claws and horns. Only a man. A man, and there was something almost implausible about this, after all his expectations. He looked too calm for someone who lived in such a place, and too… beautiful to simply ignore. There was no fuss or malice in his gaze, only an attentive, assessing calm that made him even more uneasy.