Wherever Haon looked, there was suffocating darkness all around him. Granted, this was how his sight normally perceived everything, but something about it felt off, as though the shadows themselves were watching him.
"Hello, anyone there?" he called out, voice trembling despite the effort to sound brave. However, what greeted him back was his own frightened voice, returning to him in a brittle echo.
His ears strained to listen to any more sound, stretching for even the faintest whisper in the silence, but he couldn't hear anything more besides his own ragged breathing, being far too loud in the oppressive void.
Why was he in this nightmare again?
Why did it keep torturing him?
These were the relentless questions swirling around his head, knowing well this place was nothing but a warp dream. He was sure of it.
Even if his eyes failed to provide him with any details, his ears would never fail him. They were his thread to reality and his only compass in the dark.
Gritting his teeth, Haon walked and walked, trying to find his way out, each step meeting the unseen floor with a lifeless weight. But no matter where he went, the space was endless–stretching infinitely, as if time itself had fractured.
'Wake up. Please wake up.' Haon desperately pleaded with himself, trying to free his mind from the nightmarish grip.
'I have to get out of here.'
His feet grew tired as he aimlessly wandered, the ache creeping slowly into his legs, and the next second, he plopped down to huddle on himself like a scared child, arms wrapped tightly around his knees.
~
It was then he heard an echo of a voice, distant and wavering like a ripple over still water, making him perk up his head. He strained his ears again, harder this time to check if it was true, holding his breath without even realizing it.
Haon….
Haon… Come here.
'What a warm voice,' he thought, comforted by the glimmer of solace that pierced through the void like a thread of gold in a sea of black.
He stood up in a trance, as if pulled forward, and let the voice guide him to wherever it was taking him. However, only after walking a few feet, the voice disappeared once again, the eerie silence returning in its place, more suffocating than before.
In a panic, he started chasing the direction where he last heard the voice, his steps blurred with urgency–until he stumbled down hard, the impact jarring through his limbs.
ACK-
The next moment, Haon was miraculously greeted by the sound of chirping birds. His fingers shifted, feeling the soft bedsheet underneath his touch and the beads of cold sweat forming on his skin.
'I finally managed to wake up,' he breathed a sigh of relief, surrounded by the familiar shade that never lifted.
Peeling back the blanket from his sluggish body, he began to lazily rummage around the bed, the fabric rustling beneath his searching hands. He kept fumbling around, hoping to find the familiar feel of the cotton shawl he used to tie around his eye. But alas, it was nowhere to be found, only cool emptiness meeting his touch.
"Did he throw it out the bed again?" he mumbled under his breath, recalling the bad habit of the man who had been accompanying him till late at night. By now, the sheet beside him lay cold, with no trace of the warmth present and no hint of someone ever being there.
'I tell him every time, but Sir Nahu never listens.'
Shaking his head, Haon expertly slid down the bed, and trailed his lean fingers over the ground to continue with his search. Until finally, the sensation of the fabric made him stop.
"There it is," he chirped gleefully.
Clutching the piece of cloth, he stood and made his way to freshen up for the day. He washed his face with cold water, and dabbed it clean before tying up the fabric over his eyes. It gave him a strange sense of comfort… something to hide behind, even if it no longer mattered.
Soon after, he began to prepare breakfast by the hearth, where embers from the night before rested like sleeping coals, waiting to be stirred awake. The low flames licked the base of the cooking pot, sending golden shivers across the modest kitchen space.
Apart from his sense of hearing being immaculate, this was a morning routine Haon had grown accustomed to, allowing his movements to appear fluid and deliberate.
If anyone who didn't know him were to witness him in that moment, they would have assumed that he was like any other normal person. Not blind, and certainly not a detestable Hwarin.
Oh, how he wished that was how people perceived him!
It was a ridiculous thought, one he was quick to dismiss, but it lightened his mood nonetheless.
With the warm meal fully plated on a wooden tray, he toddled along the familiar creaking floorboards toward the bedroom door of Grandma Mihum, counting each soft step as he went.
He settled down the food on the bedside table and leaned in to wake the sleeping figure, careful not to startle her.
"Grandma, breakfast is ready," he sang in a singsong whisper, gently nudging the shoulder of the old woman.
It took a few more tries before she fluttered her lids open, her breath catching briefly as her clouded eyes met the delicate silhouette of the young man standing before her.
"Haon, my dear. You're up early. Did your shift change again?" she asked in a wary manner, and the young man just smiled in return, brushing her hand lightly as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Worry not, Grandma. I'm having fun playing my xulin as well. And in return, I'm getting good money. I can't be happier."
"If that's how you wish, my dear. I'm fine as long as you are merry."
"Grandma," Haon called lovingly, his cords dipping into something fog-like as he leaned closer and lay down his head on her lap for a while. "Be safe while I'm out. Don't wander around on your own, okay?"
"Well, aren't you treating me like a child?" she huffed playfully, stroking his hair with her thin fingers. "I recall it was only a few years back when I used to hold your hand and lead you everywhere we went."
Haon simply giggled, a soft laugh bubbling from his lips as he thought back to those memories… of when he had first arrived in Sufen and everything felt unfamiliar.
The air had smelled different, thick with woodsmoke and strange spices. The earth beneath his feet was colder. The people were distant, their dialect unfamiliar. And the surroundings… they had felt far too vast for someone who couldn't see.
It was only with the help of Grandma Mihum that he was able to adjust to this kind of surreal life. And he could only imagine the alternate scenario–one where no one was there to offer him a helping hand. No doubt, he would've been dead a long time ago.
Fortunately, his fate hadn't darkened like his vision.
After feeding Grandma Mihum her breakfast and listening to her contented hums between bites, Haon got himself ready to go out. His hand carefully reached for the worn wooden case that held his instrument–his beloved xulin.
And he was ready to face another day.