Chapter One: The Mark Beneath Her Skin
Seoul in November wore its chill like a faded crown—brisk, breath-stealing, and beautiful. On the roof of Gireum High School, Sheila Nam sat cross-legged on the concrete ledge, her eyes trained on the mountains that bordered the city, mist curling along their edges like sleeping dragons. It was her favorite place to escape—above the noise, above the whispers, above the life that sometimes felt like a tightrope stretched too far.
She clenched her fingers tightly around her phone, scrolling through her recording app.
Another exposé half-finished. Another secret that wouldn't matter.
"Just once," she whispered to no one, "I want to find something that changes everything."
Down below, students poured through the courtyard in clusters—laughing, yelling, chasing each other with steaming cups of vending machine cocoa. None of them noticed her, and she liked it that way. She was the quiet girl. The top of her class. The scholarship student with no father and a mother who worked night shifts at a gimbap shop in Itaewon. She was no one worth remembering.
Except today, something felt different. Like the city was holding its breath.
Her phone buzzed—a message from her mother.
> Don't forget the rice and eggs on your way home. And be careful, there's talk of a storm.
Sheila frowned. The sky was clear—sharp and blue, like glass. A storm?
She slipped her phone into her blazer pocket, just as a sudden gust of wind swept over the rooftop. The hairs on her neck stood up. Her fingers began to tingle.
"Are you alright?"
She jumped.
A boy stood near the stairwell door—lean, tall, and unfamiliar. His black uniform was crisply ironed, though he didn't wear the school's emblem on his chest. That was strange. His face was hauntingly beautiful—pale skin, deep-set eyes like storm clouds, and lips slightly parted as if tasting the air around her.
"Who—how did you get up here?" Sheila asked, trying not to sound startled.
He stepped closer, boots silent on the concrete. "You shouldn't be up here alone. Not today."
Her heart raced. "Are you a teacher?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "No. But I know who you are, Queen Sheila."
The words hit her like ice.
"I—what?"
"You're awakening. The moon has started to bleed again." He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small glass pendant, swirling with silver mist. "You were never meant to be ordinary."
Sheila stared at the pendant, the edges of her vision warping slightly. She suddenly felt nauseous, like the world had tilted under her feet.
"Okay, I think you're crazy," she said, backing toward the stairs.
"That's what you told me the first time," he murmured.
Before she could ask what that meant, the clouds shifted. A shadow passed over the sun.
And then—pain.
White-hot, stabbing pain, ripping through her back as if invisible fire had branded her spine. Sheila screamed, dropping to her knees as the world pulsed red and silver. Her skin seared, burning through her uniform, and somewhere beneath her ribs, something moved.
The boy didn't move. He watched, his face taut with grief.
"It's beginning again," he said. "Just like before."
Sheila collapsed, gasping, trembling. As her vision blurred, she saw them—flashes.
A woman in flowing silk standing on a balcony under a silver moon.
A war raging through an ancient palace lit with floating lanterns.
A hand reaching for a sword… a kiss laced with betrayal.
Sheila's fingers clenched against the rooftop floor as the visions faded. She tasted blood in her mouth. Her back throbbed. And then—just as suddenly—it all stopped.
She blinked, and the boy was gone.
Only the pendant remained on the floor beside her, its silver mist now swirling faster.
Sheila touched her back. Her skin was unbroken, but it burned with a strange heat. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the pendant.
She heard the wind whisper. Or maybe it was just in her head.
Your throne awaits, moon queen…