Jinyoung hadn't planned on coming here.

But the walls of the rehearsal studio felt like they were closing in, the mirrors reflecting a version of himself he barely recognized. The perfect idol. The product. The illusion.

How many times had the company rejected his requests? He wanted a tattoo. No. He wanted an eyebrow piercing. No. He wanted to do a duet with Min. No. No. No.

The pressure sat heavy on his chest, the fans too close, the media too loud. He needed out.

So he had pulled a cap low over his face, put on a mask and glasses, and slipped past the staff, disappearing into the backseat of his loyal driver's car. The road to the mountains was quiet, winding, free. He didn't look back.

Now, standing at the entrance of the temple garden, Jinyoung exhaled slowly, his breath unspooling into the crisp air. He hadn't been here in years. His grandmother used to bring him when he was young-before schedules dictated every second of his life, before his name belonged to his fans, his company and the Internet.

The wooden temple hadn't changed. The same worn stone steps, the same gentle scent of pine and earth. The world here moved at a different pace-unrushed, untouched by the chaos of cameras and screaming fans. A quiet place that, if he remembered correctly, served vegetarian fare.

He pulled his cap lower and stepped inside.

The garden stretched before him, organic yet intentional, as if nature itself had been guided rather than tamed. Cherry blossoms drifted lazily from the trees, catching in his hoodie. A small stone path wound through the greenery, leading to a lone wooden bench beneath an ancient tree.

And that's when he saw him.

Jinyoung stopped, his breath catching for reasons he couldn't explain.

A man stood beneath the tree, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun, as if he had all the time in the world. His long silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, shifting like silk in the breeze. His robes, woven from natural fibers in deep indigo, swayed gently around his feet. But it was his face-his presence-that held Jinyoung in place.

Stillness.

Not the kind Jinyoung had trained himself to perform, the poised, camera-ready perfection that made fans call him effortless. This was something else. Real. Unshaken. As if the world itself could turn to dust, and this man would remain, unchanged and at peace.

Jinyoung swallowed, suddenly aware of his own heartbeat. The stranger had yet to open his eyes, yet somehow, Jinyoung felt watched. Seen. Raw. With nowhere to hide.

He took a hesitant step forward, the sound of gravel crunching beneath his shoe breaking the quiet.

And then-

"You're searching for something."

The man's voice was calm, unhurried, as if he had been expecting Jinyoung all along.

Jinyoung stiffened. His first instinct was to brush it off, to pretend he was just wandering, just passing through. But something about this place-about this man-made lying feel pointless. Why pretend? he thought. This temple priest probably doesn't even know who I am.

He shifted on his feet, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. "Yeah," he admitted, voice quieter than he intended. "I guess I am."

The man finally opened his eyes.

Jinyoung's breath hitched. Deep and black. Endless, like the ocean before a storm. Like something ancient and knowing, something that could unravel him if he let it.

A slow, unreadable smile crossed the man's lips. Not mocking, not pitying. Just... knowing and present.

"And have you found it?"

Jinyoung huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't even know what I'm looking for."

The man studied him for a long moment before nodding toward the empty bench. "Then stay."

Jinyoung hesitated. He should go. He should get back before his manager started calling, before the weight of his world crashed down on him again.

But he couldn't make himself leave.

And then, before he could second-guess himself, he sat down.

The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of incense, moist leaves, and something else.

Jinyoung didn't know why, but for the first time in years, he felt like he could breathe.

And in that moment, his heart was home.