After a while of Iseul trying to recollect his memories of things he had just seen in fornt of him, a big piercing headache split through his head; So painful his vision got bleary.
His friend Jeong snapped him out of this state of confusion and panic by giving his friend a hug from behind "Come on dreamer-" he said cheerfully in an encouraging tone "it's time to get back to class and rock the next project!" Iseul snickered nervously before following his friend back inside the warm comforting building he'd call his second home.
Many students seemed to be enjoying this class as even the ones labeled as class clowns were eager to learn more about this infamous family.
When the students were told to open their books back on the page they left off on, Iseul hesitated until Jeong opened it for him "What are you doing? You're acting so weird today" he whispered with a concerned frown forming small wrinkles around his eyes and forehead.
Iseul simply nodded as a small smile curled up from the corner of his lips "Yes...-" he fiddled his pencil between his fingers "I'm fine... Just a little dizzy that's all."
Jeong nudged his bottle of water towards him to drink, which he took without hesitation, his throat did feel quite dry from the cold hair he inhaled earlier during the panic he felt creeping up in his chest after those odd visions.
Iseul lightly brushed the tip of his pointing finger and the edge of his thumb's nail over his bottom lip, lightly tucking onto skin that started to peel off due to the temperature change in the saliva and natural oils that laid upon his lips. Eventually, the topic deepened into one of the sons, the same son who had that same sharp glare that brought a shiver to march up his back.
Jun-Suk Jang, the professor mentioned as the kind lady went on to elaborate on his achievements in life; His main achievement being the wealth he held for the family. This stern looking man was titled one of the Joseon dynasty's wealthiest men; No wonder many had seen him before, you'd see these lists everywhere on the internet or magazines concerning the past and most influential people.
One thing Iseul wondered however, was how this man earned all this wealth, it surely wasn't only the family name he carried? There must've been some underlying business, he'd assume, especially looking at that face... It would give anyone a great intrigue and interest to what mystery laid behind it.
Was he a man of silver tongue, trade or perhaps a man with a dark history not elaborated on in any history book... He wanted to know, though a side of him told him not to. The gut feeling nearly anyone would trust if it were to told them to not go a certain direction, that was what he was feeling.
Flipping to the next page, there was yet another visual of this mysterious individual portrayed with men taking measures for his next attire, attire of high importance... The description noting the only documentation they'd have of this event were that this fitting was for an event regarding trade between families; No explanation on what the trade was however.
The project given to the students requested them to write a piece on how living in such an era would've been like for one personally, in Iseul's case, how a professor or possible tailor would've lived on the daily basis.
Iseul normally looked forward to writing such pieces as he had great capability of empathy. This time however, he couldn't keep his mind off of that grey gaze that struck him like a dark cloud full of lightning.
Iseul shook his head and placed his fingers on his pen as he began to make small notes and bullet points for the composition of his project, he needed to gain a high grade; He had to stay top of the class. He chose to pick the path of a tailor for this prince's Gonryongpo, not to make theories of how this man earned his wealth, but to learn more about the different colors, patterns and other intricate details the robes meant and possibly how one was made in such traditional ways.
When their class had ended, Iseul surprisingly only managed to write three sentences, glaring at his paper with his eye wide open he pushed it in his folder and into his bag, not saying a single word.
How come he only managed to write such little amount in 3 hours time? Did he overwork himself throughout the years he's been in college? He couldn't help but let out a sigh as he led his head hang down low with grief wiping over his slender face and just like that, the floor changed below him, why was it suddenly yellow?
He recognized this flooring, it was hanji paper treated with soybean oil, but this was a historical way of making flooring for hanok houses... The floor in the college building was marble with an occasional path of dark wood worn down planks.
He managed to open his eyes fully and saw his legs being covered by a beige brown with a salmon pink undertone fabric together with extremely uncomfortable straw like slippers wrapped around his feet with thick white socks.
No longer his usual baggy pants and muddy white sneakers.
Was he dreaming? He must be... He reached to his arm to pinch his arm "Ouch," he yelped as he shut his eyes tightly, then opened one slowly, but there was no change. Was this some sick prank? He looked around desperately, this building was nothing like his college, it looked like a hanok house he just thought about during his fixation on the flooring.
Even the other people around him wore the same attire as he did while some outside wore a strange hat... But those looked familiar.
Iseul carefully walked down the hall to head outside and take a closer look at these fancy clothed men and women.
Then the realization hit... Those were hanbok hats he had studied when he was a child. Iseul froze, was he in another time? He looked around in desperation for something familiar, perhaps this was a movie set he had suddenly landed in? But why wouldn't he remember knowing anything about this?
He noticed some strange man with a hanbok hat walk up to him with his hand reaching up as a sign he wanted to speak with him, "No-" Iseul managed to breathe out "This can't be," the panicked boy began to hurry out of this field and right into a crowd of people. Everyone was dressed like him here, no one to be seen with modern clothing he was used to, he was in a different era... An era of the past.