Hyeongjun was alone in the forest at night, practicing his wedding vows for tomorrow.

“With this ring, i ask you to be mine..” His tone was soft and determined as he whispered the final words, slipping a ring onto a small branch.

Suddenly, the trees rustle and a branch snaps in the breeze, sending him on his knees as he stares at your direction with wide eyed, realizing the ring was not on a branch but your cold left hand— You’re a corpse of a long-dead bride.