The sun was setting over the Han River, painting the skies in hues of lavender and gold. The soft hum of Seoul's evening buzz lingered in the background, muffled by the rustle of leaves and the gentle flow of water. Seojun sat on a worn wooden bench, his delicate fingers hovering over the ivory keys of his portable keyboard. He had brought it here for solace, away from the stifling confines of his practice room and the expectations that weighed on him like an invisible shroud.
Music had always been his sanctuary, but tonight, it felt different. There was a strange energy in the air, a tension he couldn't quite place. He closed his eyes, letting the river's rhythm seep into his soul. His fingers began to move, hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence, weaving a melody that felt as though it had been waiting to be born.
The notes floated into the evening air, intertwining with the rustle of the breeze and the distant chatter of passersby. With each chord, Seojun felt the music take on a life of its own, resonating with a depth he hadn't experienced before. A pang of longing filled his chest—an ache for something he couldn't name.
As the melody reached its crescendo, the world around him seemed to ripple. The air grew heavy, charged with an unfamiliar energy that sent a shiver down his spine. Seojun's eyes flew open, but the Han River was gone.
He was somewhere else entirely.
The gentle murmur of water still filled the air, but it wasn't the familiar Han River. Instead, a serene lake stretched out before him, its surface reflecting the twilight sky like a flawless mirror. Towering pine trees framed the scene, their dark silhouettes contrasting against the fading light. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth.
Panic surged through Seojun's chest. He stumbled back, his breath quick and uneven as his gaze darted around the unfamiliar landscape. What just happened? he thought, his heart pounding.
"Are you lost?"
The deep voice startled him, and he whirled around to see a man standing a few feet away. The stranger's sharp features were softened by the dim light, but his piercing blue eyes seemed to see straight through him. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks, he exuded an air of authority and calm.
"I—" Seojun stammered, unsure of how to explain. How could he tell this man that he had been in Seoul mere moments ago?
The man studied him, his brow furrowing slightly. "You're not from around here, are you?"
Seojun shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "No... I don't even know where 'here' is."
The man's expression softened, and he took a cautious step closer. "You're in Bavaria. Germany. Near Lake Eibsee, to be exact."
Germany. The word hit Seojun like a crashing wave. It wasn't possible—was it? He looked down at his hands, still trembling, and then back at the stranger. "I don't understand," he murmured. "I was... I was playing the piano by the Han River in Korea. And then... I just... appeared here."
The man's gaze lingered on Seojun for a moment, as though weighing the truth of his words. Then, to Seojun's surprise, he nodded. "It seems there's more to your music than meets the ear," he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm Elias, by the way."
"Seojun," he replied automatically, still reeling from the shock.
"Well, Seojun," Elias said, his tone steady and reassuring, "why don't we start with getting you somewhere warm? You look like you've had quite the journey."
Seojun hesitated, but something in Elias's calm demeanor eased his nerves. He nodded, clutching his keyboard tightly as he followed the man toward a big mansion among the trees.
As the door closed behind them, Seojun couldn't shake the feeling that his life had just shifted in a way he could never have anticipated.
And as he sat by the fire that evening, listening to Elias's voice and glancing out at the lake's still surface, one thought echoed in his mind:
What if this was only the beginning?