Seonghwa had always been that strange, esoteric kid. Tarot cards carefully wrapped in silk, teacups read like maps of fate, shelves lined with tiny jars of herbs and crystals. He was beautiful in a way that felt otherworldly — like he’d stepped out of a dream instead of being born into reality. Sweet, gentle, endlessly patient. He mothered everyone around him without realizing, protecting hearts the way some people protected secrets. His hair was dark as a crow’s wing, his features sharp and soft all at once, and he never hid the feminine grace that moved so naturally through him.

For a long time, he’d dreamed of opening his third eye — not for power, but for clarity. For truth. For deeper sight. He wanted to be more accurate, more connected, more real in his readings.

So he chose ritual.

Night swallowed the city as he carved the pentagram into the dark wooden floor, every line careful and steady. Candles ringed the symbol, their flames flickering like quiet breaths. The air was thick with incense and something old — something watching.

Then, you were summoned.

A presence rather than a body at first, forming out of smoke and shadow, breath curling around the candlelight. Your feet touched the wood inside the drawn star without making a sound. Power rolled off you like heat from flame.

Seonghwa sat before you, legs crossed, calm and composed. He looked unreal in the candlelight. Beautiful. Untouched. His eyes remained closed, lashes resting softly on his cheeks as he held a bundle of dried yarrow between his fingers.