Chapter 14:
The cheerful laughter of the child echoed through the open fields, a stark contrast to the relentless tension of Joon's previous life. He stood frozen, staring at the boy who had called him "Dad," and the golden retriever circling him with playful energy.
"Are you coming or not?" the boy asked, impatient but grinning.
"Uh, yeah… I'm coming," Joon replied hesitantly, his voice strange in his own ears. He glanced down at his clothes—a plain flannel shirt and jeans—and at his hands, rough and tanned, the hands of someone who worked the land.
Joon followed the boy, who introduced himself as Minho. The golden retriever, Lucky, trotted happily alongside them. The path wound through fields of tall grass, wildflowers dotting the landscape. Joon's head spun with questions.
Where was he? What was his role in this life?
Minho's chatter offered clues. "Mom said you were going to win the pie contest this year! You always say it's not about winning, but I think it's about time you got the trophy. Everyone knows your peach pie is the best."
Pie contest? Joon's lips twitched into a small smile. Whatever this life was, it sounded drastically simpler than the battles of boardrooms or the chaos of idol life.
As they reached the village, Joon's breath caught. The place was idyllic, like a scene from a postcard. Cobblestone streets wound between cozy cottages, and colorful banners hung across the main square, announcing the annual harvest festival.
"Joon! There you are!"
A woman approached, her hands dusted with flour. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy bun, and her smile was radiant. She kissed his cheek warmly, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.
"Good morning, Hana," Joon said cautiously, his instincts taking over.
She raised an eyebrow. "Hana? You only call me that when you're in trouble." She poked his arm playfully. "Don't tell me you forgot the apples for the pie!"
"Uh…" Joon faltered, but Minho came to his rescue.
"Dad didn't forget! Lucky and I picked some yesterday, remember?"
"Oh, right," Joon said, exhaling in relief.
Hana chuckled. "Good. Now let's get to the square—the contest starts in an hour!"
The village square buzzed with activity. Stalls lined the streets, offering everything from handmade crafts to freshly baked bread. Joon felt an odd sense of comfort in the simplicity of it all.
At their stall, he and Hana worked on assembling their pie. Her familiarity with him was both endearing and unnerving. He followed her lead, his hands moving instinctively, as though this body had baked a thousand pies before.
As they worked, neighbors stopped by to chat.
"Joon, don't let Hana take all the credit again this year!" teased an elderly man.
"Minho's been bragging about your pie all week!" added a young woman with a basket of flowers.
Joon smiled and nodded, piecing together the fragments of this life. These people knew him, trusted him. It felt real in a way that none of his past lives had.
The pie contest turned out to be more intense than Joon expected. Judges scrutinized each entry, tasting slices with exaggerated seriousness. When it was time for Joon and Hana's pie, the crowd fell silent.
The judges took a bite. Then another.
Finally, the head judge smiled. "And the winner is… Joon and Hana Park!"
The square erupted in cheers. Minho ran up, hugging both of them tightly. "I knew it!" he exclaimed.
Joon laughed, the sound surprising him. For a moment, he forgot his confusion, lost in the warmth of the celebration.
That night, after the festival had ended and Minho was fast asleep, Joon and Hana sat on the porch of their cottage. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the fields.
"You were quiet today," Hana said, handing him a cup of tea. "Something on your mind?"
Joon hesitated. "Just… thinking about how lucky we are. This place, this life…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain the turmoil inside him.
Hana smiled, her gaze soft. "We've built something beautiful here, haven't we? It's not perfect, but it's ours."
Her words stirred something in Joon—a longing he hadn't realized he carried.
Over the following weeks, Joon immersed himself in the rhythms of this life. He worked the fields, baked pies, and helped Minho with his schoolwork. Each day brought new challenges, but also a sense of fulfillment.
He began to bond deeply with Hana, admiring her strength and humor. With Minho, he found joy in the smallest moments—a shared laugh, a game of catch, the bedtime stories they made up together.
For the first time in all his lives, Joon felt rooted.
But peace wasn't meant to last.
One evening, as Joon walked through the village, a sense of unease prickled at his skin. The streets were quiet, the usual chatter and laughter replaced by an eerie stillness.
He turned a corner and froze.
A figure stood at the edge of the square, cloaked in shadow. Though Joon couldn't see his face, he recognized the stance, the air of menace.
The man turned slowly, his voice cutting through the silence. "Found you."
Joon's heart pounded. Whoever this was, they didn't belong in the idyllic world he had come to cherish.