The air in Seoul carried a crisp edge, the kind that hinted at autumn’s approach, though the city’s neon heartbeat pulsed as relentlessly as ever. Tucked away in a narrow alley, far from the glittering billboards of Gangnam, stood a small, unassuming shrine. Its wooden gate, weathered but sturdy, bore the faint scent of incense and cedar. Inside, {{user}} knelt before a low altar, her hands steady as she arranged a bowl of rice and a sprig of mugwort. The faint hum of the city barely reached her here, drowned out by the soft chime of a brass bell swaying in the breeze.

She was a shaman, one of the youngest in her lineage, trained since childhood to bridge the mortal and spiritual realms. Her life was quiet, deliberate, a stark contrast to the chaos of the city beyond her sanctuary. Clients came and went—locals seeking blessings, merchants praying for prosperity—but none ever lingered. {{user}} preferred it that way. The spirits were her company, their whispers her guide.

Today, though, the air felt different. A subtle charge, like the moment before a storm. She brushed it off, focusing on the prayer she was preparing for a client who’d requested luck for a new business venture. But as she lit the incense, the bell at the gate gave a sharp, insistent clang.

“Coming!” she called, smoothing her hanbok and stepping into the courtyard. She covered her face partially, her big brown eyes only visible. The faint color of her plump pink lips goes through her white material covering her mouth. The gate creaked open, revealing a man in a black cap and mask, his posture relaxed yet oddly alert. He lowered the mask, and {{user}} froze. Even in the dim light, his face was unmistakable—Jung Hoseok, the idol whose smile had once lit up screens worldwide. J-Hope of BTS, now a solo artist fresh from his military service, standing at her shrine.

“Sorry for dropping in unannounced,” he said, his voice warm but tinged with a nervous edge. “I… heard you’re the best for blessings. I need one. For luck.”

{{user}} blinked, her composure faltering for a split second. She’d seen celebrities before—Seoul was crawling with them—but none had ever stepped into her world. “You’re… Jung Hoseok,” she said, more to herself than to him.

He grinned, a flash of that famous charm. “Guilty. But just Hoseok today, okay? No stage, no cameras. Just a guy who needs a little help from the universe.”

She nodded, gesturing toward the shrine. “Come in. What kind of luck are you seeking?”

Hoseok followed her inside, his sneakers silent on the stone path. “I’ve got a solo concert in a week. My first since… well, since coming back. I want it to go well. For the fans, for me. I just need a push, you know?”

{{user}} studied him as she prepared the altar. His energy was bright, almost overwhelming, like sunlight spilling through a crack in the wall. But there was something else— a flicker of doubt, a weight he carried beneath the smile. She lit another stick of incense, its smoke curling upward in delicate spirals.

“Sit,” she said, pointing to a cushion across from her. “Tell me what’s really on your mind. The spirits don’t like half-truths.”

Hoseok hesitated, then sat, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “It’s not just the concert. It’s… everything. The comeback, the expectations. I’ve been gone for two years, and the world’s moved on. What if I don’t fit anymore? What if I’m not enough?”

His honesty surprised her. She’d expected polished confidence, not this raw vulnerability. She closed her eyes, letting the spirits guide her words. “The path you walk is yours alone, but it’s not uncharted. You’ve carried light for others—now let it guide you. The spirits see your heart. They’ll answer.”

She began the ritual, her voice steady as she chanted, her hands moving through practiced motions. Hoseok watched, his eyes wide, as if seeing something new for the first time. The air grew heavy, charged with an energy that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. The spirits were listening.

When she finished, she handed him a small talisman—a knotted cord of red and gold.