An odd, simplistic mark was etched into his skin. The lines were like something an amateur tattoo artist would draw for a few bucks in a dirty basement. It looked like three weirdly shaped letters squished together.

ᛓᛖᚾ

F… M… T? What is that?

Double-checking if it was real, Hyeon grabbed the white soap bar and rubbed furiously at the mark. After a minute, his raw skin was covered in a thick sheen of white goo and bubbles. Holding his breath, he placed his arm under the running water.

…But it was still there. Hyeon quickly shuffled through his memories of the last day. It was difficult because his throat felt constricted from wanting to cry. Way too many abnormal things had happened and it wasn’t easy to process. After all, he thought he was human only the day before.

He saw demons, almost died, got hurt, touched twice… Hyeon felt his face become hot. His heartbeat started to speed up, deafening his hearing. Breathing came in short, wheezy bursts. There wasn’t enough oxygen. Everything here wasn’t normal!

In the corner of his eye, the contract was on the counter. Although the entire situation was strange, the next thing he should do is think of his next move. 

After closing his eyes, he told himself, “It’s okay. Don’t freak out. Just think. Think and read. You were told and experienced a lot. Right. So, after Sani and I walked through the cave, we had to hurry to the castle. He said to stay close becaus—” Ah. Right. “Sani said I don’t have the Lord’s insignia. I am a beacon.”

Imoogi also mentioned something like that, wondering where his “insignia” was.

Hyeon’s heart slowed down during this time, breathing not so shallow anymore. This tattoo had something to do with him—Fenrir. Grabbing the contract roughly, he lay on the couch. Nammi strolled over, jumping onto his stomach, then waited for her to make biscuits before getting comfortable.

Hyeon read over the contract.

“This contract, dated on the 30th day of May in the year 20xx, is made between Festr Castle and Hyeon Falken of Toronto, Canada. This document constitutes an employment agreement between these two parties and is governed by the laws of New Zealand…”

Again, it seemed fine. It had the basic terms of employment, responsibilities, benefits, compensation, probation… wait. Where was the termination clause? There was no mention of providing written notice if he had to break it. No way could he stay and work under these conditions! It wasn’t okay to exclude that! Then again, it was Hyeon’s fault for not being careful before signing. 

He groaned, irritated and beside himself while studying the papers.

It’s the same conditions. What am I missing?

Moments passed, thinking hard. Maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t missing. Instead, perhaps it wasn’t visible. Hyeon didn’t know what he was supposed to do. How could he see something with supposed abilities he became aware of only a day ago? The situation wasn’t fair. Couldn’t he have just one good thing in his life that didn’t end in tragedy? Couldn’t he have one good night of sleep without waking up in terror? 

And why is my upper back so sore all of a sudden?

Hyeon fumed, trying to stretch out his spine once more. Nammi cried in protest from being disturbed and hopped down to the floor.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he said quietly. She looked up at him with yellow eyes that seemed to show pity. Despite the sleep interruption, her loud purrs rumbled through the quiet room.

Giving up trying to ease the ache, he placed the papers over his face. Giving up. That was what he did best. His memory reflected when he was alone at his adopter’s house:

When Hyeon was older, he asked his adoptive parents for a photo of his deceased, biological Mom and Dad, knowing there was one somewhere. Instead of being sympathetic, they laughed to his face. According to them, there was no way anyone would have a photo of a couple who’d let themselves be ‘taken out.’ 

The only evidence Hyeon could find was a library-archived newspaper. It had a small, photo-less article about a couple—Erik and Jiyoung Falken—found dead in the streets with no leading suspect. A cold case, unsolved.

Sometime later, his ‘loving’ family went on a weekend getaway to Niagara Falls with their ‘real children,’ or so they put it. Seriously, why adopt him if they would treat him this way? For the extra benefits on their taxes? Who knew?

Whenever they’d leave him alone to go out, he took those chances to search through their belongings to find it. They had to have one, right? The adoption agency was supposed to give them that information. 

Hyeon wasn’t fruitful, but there were some boxes left that he still had to hunt through. When they left the house, he went up the ladder into the dusty crawlspace, opening the two remaining boxes. The first one didn’t have squat, and the second wasn’t promisi—Hold on. There were adoption papers in there. He removed it all.

And discovered something—the thing he had been desperately searching for! A small Polaroid was at the bottom. He carefully picked it up and examined the two people in the picture. 

A man with long, brown hair was bent over, kissing the woman’s forehead. She had black hair with butterfly clips. Their hair and Nirvana t-shirts fit the 90s grunge times. The style made Hyeon laugh because it was so old! The woman was pretty and smiled big at the camera when she was kissed.

She was lying in a hospital bed. In her arms, though... was a newborn baby. That must’ve been him—

“What are you doing?” A stern, sharp voice bellowed behind Hyeon. His stomach dropped to the floor. Why were they home? He whipped around, seeing Father’s head peeking above the attic door, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Come down.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Legs shaking, he climbed down the ladder.

“We return after ten minutes to get my wallet and you’re betraying our trust like this? Is this where you get off?”

“N-no, s-sir—hey!” 

The photo was yanked from Hyeon’s hand. His father marched to the kitchen. He followed closely but couldn’t speak up about wanting it back. Where was his voice? Why couldn’t he speak now? 

In horror, he watched helplessly as the scary man turned on the gas stovetop to the highest setting. The fire sparked and waved sporadically, as if wanting what was in his hands—to burn.

“In this house, we are your parents. No more asking. No more pictures. Thanks to you, you destroyed this last photo instead of leaving it alone. Turn off the stove in two minutes, you hear me?” With that, the bastard tossed the Polaroid into the flames. The picture quickly warped in shape and charred. Humming in satisfaction, his father grabbed his forgotten wallet and went out the door. 

SLAM.

Hyeon could only watch as the last remnants turned into smoke. Like it never existed. Like they never existed. He was overcome with heartache, collapsing to his knees and hands. He bawled for hours after losing the only thing he had searched so long for.

Hyeon returned to the present. The picture’s contents were fuzzy since that happened long ago. Resenting everyone, he stood and shouted in defeat. 

“Seriously! Can’t I just… win for once? Can’t I have some hope, too? Or am I that pathetic to even deserve that?”

In anger, he chucked the papers. Since the light material couldn’t fly far, the pages scattered around like snow. Hyeon sighed and studied the window across the room. Dark, stormy clouds looked just as ominous as earlier, if not worse. 

Huh?

Hyeon then noticed… two lights in the glass. Slowly, he tiptoed over to the window to get a better look. There wasn’t anything outside, too foggy. But when he turned… he saw his reflection and paused. The outline of his body could be faintly seen, including those two unfamiliar glowing circles. Again, he went closer to the glass to realize...

Those lights were coming from him! 

These are my—!

He raced to the bathroom and fumbled at the wall to find the light switch. Hyeon leaned forward to look at his face. His hazel eyes could change color slightly depending on his mood. Because of his dark emotions from a cruel memory, they were more brown-hued.

…And staring back at him were two glowing brown eyes. 

It was like someone had placed that glowy-glowy bacteria from the famous bioluminescent beach into his irises. He wiped his eyes and checked them again.

Are those mine? How?

It reminded Hyeon of when he first met Fenrir and the other spirits. When they were peeved, they seemed to have a glow in their eyes, too. Was something finally happening to him? Was it a sign that Sani was correct? In a panic, he gathered the contract, Nammi watching him struggle to put them in order.

He read the first page again, but this time...

It was different.

“This contract, dated on the 30th day of May in the year 20xx, is made between Festr Castle and Hyeon Falken of Toronto, Canada. This document constitutes an employment agreement between these two parties and is governed by the laws of Hel.”