Jimin Ki Archives/I: I Get Kidnapped at a Random Person's House

*Annyong:*Informal "Hello". You only use it when speaking to friends or someone younger than you.

*Annyonghaseyo:*Formal "Hello". Use this with your elders, crowds, and during greetings with people you rarely see or have just met.

*Umma:*Mom. Usually, children still under their mother's care use this.

*Abba:*Dad. Usually, children still under their father's care use this.

**I HATE THE DAYS OF THE WEEK.**

*Umma* or "Mom" in English, does not make me work like many parents would do to their children. Instead, she makes me watch television, play video games, or go outside as an attempt to break me of my silent nature.

I have always been a quiet child. People consider this an issue, but I find it normal and of no reason to go into deep detail about. Most parents would try to get their children to come back inside, stop playing video games and watching television. They'd tell their children to do the dishes or clean their rooms or vacuum the floor.

Not Umma.

She finds it odd I'm so obedient and so quiet. She even says I never cried as a baby. Shouldn't she be happy about that? She says I have never smiled, never laughed or frowned or yelled. Is that so bad? She says I have the same expression no matter what, even in my sleep.

She took me to a psychiatrist a few times. His name was Dr. Maxwell. He came from America—Just for me, she says. I don't believe there is something wrong with me. Everyone else does.

Today is Saturday, December 11th. I have to go to Dr. Maxwell's office again. Dr. Maxwell's Korean is very bad, but he knows how to write in Hangul, the Korean writing system so we have no issues. His hearing is very bad anyway.

I sit in the back of a Ford Mustang, imported from the United States. If you have not guessed already, my family is very wealthy and well known in Korea. *Abba* or "Dad" owns a Korean Pop industry known as SKY Entertainment or SKYE. Umma works for the Samsung Electronic Company, so I often get new gadgets every year.

Not that I use them.

Christmas music flows throughout the car, but I have no idea what song it is since almost all the words are in English. I am currently learning English in school, but don't know too much yet. I also sometimes learn English from popular American Hip Hop songs that somehow find their way into my YouTube Recommendations. From the tune,  I decide this song is "Jingle Bells".

"Jimin?" Umma hummed. I glanced up at the back of her seat.

"Yes, Umma?" I replied softly, weaving patterns with my fingers.

"This is going to be the last appointment, okay?" She said in the most reassuring voice a mother could muster. The words made no difference to me. I already knew the answer to my future. "I promise."

"Okay," I mumbled back. I swept my long bangs from my face and retired to staring out the window, watching the cars of strangers pass by. I sat stiffly in my seat like normal, except there were no endless streams of ridiculous thoughts going through my mind at this time. The feeling in the pit of my stomach told me this afternoon would be a lot more eventful than I'd like it to be.

The apartment complex Dr. Maxwell lived in also served as his office because of his temporary stay in Korea. The building was definitely tall, with a flat roof and many windows decorating the walls. There were about fifteen floors if I could remember correctly. I think Dr. Maxwell lives on the tenth floor.

As I stepped out of the car, I immediately took note of the dim sky. The sun took to hiding behind the clouds today. Behind me, I heard Umma sigh. Another sign of bad luck. The feeling in my stomach worsened.

Riding in the elevator did not settle the feeling either, instead, it more or less made me want to puke, and I haven't even eaten breakfast yet. Umma gripped my hand as she stared at the elevator door, waiting for it to open. When it did, we were greeted by a  very cheerful looking middle aged man.

Dr. Maxwell.

Dr. Maxwell was a tall fellow in his early thirties with bright green eyes and neat black hair that is always gelled and combed back.  I've overheard Umma say he's handsome, I never told Abba, though. Umma is a faithful person, at least, that's what I've come to believe.

"Annyong," Umma chimed.

Dr. Maxwell bowed like we do in Korea when greeting an elder. "Annyonghaseyo." I feel like that's the only word in Korean he can pronounce right. Or maybe that's just me.

"Annyonghaseyo," I murmured, bowing as well yet never looking up to meet Dr. Maxwell's eyes. Umma released my hand and I slipped them into the pockets of my jacket.

"Jimin, go with Dr. Maxwell. I'll be back later, I need to go run some errands, okay?" Umma assured me. I nodded and stepped out of the elevator to follow Dr. Maxwell back to his apartment. The hallways were a dull olive green and the wooden floor was expertly polished. Each door had a number accompanied by the last name of the owner of the apartment written in Hangul and English. We reached the end of the hallway where his apartment was located.

We stopped at the second to last door that was a light peach color like all the others. The only thing that set it apart was the number '34' and 'Maxwell'. The black plaque at the top door was missing the Hangul, but Maxwell was a foreign last name so it wasn't necessary. Dr. Maxwell unlocked the door and gestured for me to step inside. Saying I fully trusted this guy would be a lie, I didn't.

Who trusts a person they've only known for three months?

We passed some rooms, the television room, kitchen until we got to his office which was in the back. He had me sit down in the other chair in front of his desk while he sat in the chair behind the desk. He shuffled through some folders he had out on his desk before he passed a note to me.

My eyes had briefly skimmed the note before I picked up the pencil next to me and wrote a response.

**DR. MAXWELL**

How are you Jimin?

**ME**

Fine.

**DR. MAXWELL**

Any progress so far? Made any new friends?

**ME**

No.

**DR. MAXWELL**

Alright. I think I have an idea of what we work on today.

I simply looked up as a silent reply to his writing. Dr. Maxwell suddenly stood and left the room but did not tell me why. In fact, he didn't even appear to acknowledge me when he left which caused for suspicion. I didn't say anything, just simply rest my hands in the pockets of my windbreaker. At one point, my eyes shut themselves, and I was back to thinking about absolutely nothing. My favorite hobby.

After awhile I decided it had been awfully long since Dr. Maxwell had left. Whatever could the man be doing? Was he making lunch or something? In the middle of a therapy session? Then it occurred to me that might not actually be that weird considering his office also bordered as his house. Either way, I flicked an eye open and scanned the office for any differences.

My other eye flicked open as well and both widened in subtle shock when a boy with pale blonde hair caught my attention. He wore all black, including a mask covering his mouth as he stared me down with intense brown eyes. My first initiative was to call for Dr. Maxwell, but I was frozen in place. I didn't notice the syringe in the boy's right hand until he began to take tentative steps towards me.

No matter how many signals I sent to my nerves to *get up*it wasn't working. I still sat frozen in my seat with wide eyes as the stranger neared me with the syringe in his hand. I finally got out something close to a choked squawk out of my throat. I swear I heard the stranger snicker as he neared me. Finally, my delayed reaction came and I slowly stood. The boy twirled the syringe in his hands before grabbing my shirt collar with his other and yanking me over to him.

Before I could cry out he pushed up the sleeve of my windbreaker and stabbed me in the arm with the syringe, letting go of my collar and covering my mouth so my groan of pain was muffled. He pressed the trigger down, injecting some type of anesthetic into my blood stream, which took effect almost immediately. My vision dimmed and blurred until the fading picture of the strange boy crouching over my body became my last conscious image.

To say my dreams were weird, was a bit of exaggeration.

Consider all the dreams other people have. Mine pale in comparison to theirs, but that's besides the point. I found myself sitting on a cushioned throne, observing the situation before me. It was simply a man, with curly brown hair and electric blue eyes to accompany it. He was undeniably handsome in my opinion, but he seemed to be apparently stressed. He kept mumbling something about "November", and I assumed it had something to do with a deadline.

"Where did November go off to now?" The man sighed, creasing his eyebrows. "She know's very well I don't have time for her antics right now." I found myself corrected at that moment. Apparently, November was a person, to be more specific, a she. November is a strange name but beautiful nonetheless.

"The rift is dawning, and if she doesn't get back with—" The man suddenly paused. He stood, unseating himself from his chair and turned towards my direction. I then wondered if the man could see me, although it was a stupid thought in itself. Of course, he could be able to see me.

"I don't like eavesdropping Ki Jimin. Do you do this often?" The man inquired, his stressed expression changed to a chilling smile upon his handsome face. I blinked, once, twice. The man was talking to me. I tried to form some sort of response in my heads but no words I put together made sense.

"Speechless?" The man continued. "Ah, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself. My name is July, the deity of the season of Summer, the manifestation of Independence, and the representative of military power and sacrifices."

I blinked again, once, twice, three times in a row. Deity—as in immortal being with control over certain components of the universe? It's only funny enough his name is July, although there are no Korean holidays *in*July. Maybe that's why his name isn't June or August? Simply because there are holidays in those months, rendering them with a certain more importance than July.

I realized, my explanations made no sense. So, I finally spoke to distract myself from my own confusion. "D-Deity?" I stuttered simply.

"Why of course. Are you not familiar with the term?" July asked, quite casually might I add, which made me uncomfortable.

"I-I am... I just...." I didn't get a chance to continue because in that moment July cut me off.

"Time is running short," he sighed. "I need to tell you something before you wake up Jimin. Do not, I repeat, *do not*talk to Night. Promise me, you will not talk to Night."

"W-Why?" I coughed.

"Just don't talk to him. He's bad news kid."

"W-Wait, how do I know who—"

And to my dismay, I woke up.

**Next Chapter:** Waking Up at an Asylum