1

The apartment was huge, almost empty. From time to time, the curtains were poorly closed and a few rays of sunlight or moonlight illuminated the mess of the living room. He had always felt tiny in this immensity that his aura was unable to fill. He couldn't even remember why he had bought this place. Perhaps it was to prove something to himself. No doubt he had wanted to prove to all those who had looked down on his mother that she had raised a son capable of affording one of the most expensive apartments in Gangnam without any real impact on his bank account. The moment he signed the lease, he gave up his name. On the day he was born, his parents gave him a name: Min Yoon-Gi. Buying this apartment meant renouncing the right to wear it in public. He had been fed tons of money by a man who never had to kneel to catch a penny rolling down the street so he could eat that day. All that money just to keep his mouth shut, just to ensure that no one would ever know he existed in the first place. Yoon-Gi has been sentenced to the damnatio memoria before even dying. Because he was already in an god damn grandiose tomb, the richest in Gangnam, filled with emptiness.

In the living room, there was a huge black piano. The instrument was surrounded by sheets, hundreds of sheets covered with music notes and lyrics. Every song he had ever written had met with success thanks to someone else's voice and face. Nobody knew Min Yoon-Gi. But Min Yoon-Gi had a huge apartment in Gangnam. But Min Yoon-Gi had a huge black piano in the middle of his living room.

"Fucking Min Yoon-Gi!"

His fist slammed down violently on the black and white keys. A chaotic, plaintive sound filled the room.

"Fucking black piano!"

This time, he turned away from the piano. His gaze swept the room. Among all the sheets, one caught his eye. Jimin's letter. He grasped it wearily and read the words over and over again. What did they really have left? Their love? Perhaps. The impossible? Surely. He sat down on the floor. All that remained of Min Yoon-Gi was his memory, his past, his childhood. With a pencil between his fingers, he blackened the back of Jimin's letter.

In the corner of my memory

A brown piano settled on one side

In the corner of my childhood house

A brown piano settled on one side

Yoon-Gi stood up, making his way to his room before dropping onto the bed whose width seemed to devour him. He stood on his side, his back to the still-empty spot beside him. His gaze kissed the picture on his bedside table. A loving smile tugged at his lips. Jimin was beautiful when he smiled like that, as if the world were just a collection of wonderful things. He reached for the picture, but his arm was too short. His fingers failed to touch it. Even here, Jimin was beyond his reach.

I remember back during my school days

When my height became taller than yours

I neglected you when I once yearned for you

Even then I didn't know your significance

No matter where I am you always defended that spot

But I didn't know that would be the last

When the doorbell rang, he couldn't tell whether it was day or night. He stood up, moving further away from Jimin's smile. His footsteps echoed heavily on the tiled floor. In his memories, apartments this large didn't echo his footsteps. Perhaps in the Park's house, perfection muffled the echoes. For a moment, he hoped it was Jimin behind the door. But he knew it was only Jungkook. Only he would come to see him. Jungkook's smile was not as beautiful, not as bright as Jimin's. He was writing songs for Jungkook. He'd been writing songs for Jungkook, but had never managed to make him his muse. The young man handed him a paper cup filled with coffee. It must have been morning.

You say "Don't leave like this.

Don't worry even if I leave

You'll do well on your own

I remember when I first met you

Before I knew it you grew up

Though we are putting an end to our relationship

Don't ever feel sorry to me

I will get to meet you again no matter what form

Greet me happily then"

"You never have guests here" said Jungkook, opening the curtains.

"Nobody knows my address" replied Yoon-Gi, shrugging his shoulders.

"Park Jimin does" responded Jungkook, picking up the torn envelope containing the letter.

"He's been abroad for four years, never set foot here. He doesn't know what I've become. Who I ceased to be."

I remember back then when I met you that

I had completely forgotten when I was around 14

The awkwardness was only for a moment, I touched you again

Even though I was gone for a long time

Without repulsion

You accepted me

Without you I am nothing

After the dawn, two of us

We welcomed the morning together

Don't let go of my hand forever

I won't let go of you again either

When had his song started talking about Jimin? He thought he was talking about a piano...Yoon-Gi folded the letter covered with his words and put it in his pocket. Jungkook was not going to have this song.

I remember back then

We burned up the last of my teen's

Yes the days when we couldn't see an inch in front of us

We laughed, we cried

Those days with you, those moments are now in memories

I said, grasping my crushed shoulder

I really can't do any more

Every time I wanted to give up

"By my side" you said

Yeah, yeah I remember back than

When I was fed up and lost

Back then when I fell into a pit of despair

Even when I pushed you away

Even when I resented meeting you

You were firmly by my side

You didn't have to say anything

So don't ever let go of my hand

I won't let you go ever again either

Jungkook dropped onto the sofa and watched him silently. Yoon-Gi was lost in thought, in the lyrics of the song he had written earlier.

"A problem?" asked Jungkook.

"Yes, a memory problem. There was never a piano in my house, we were too poor."

In the corner of my memory

A brown piano settled on one side

In the corner of my childhood house

A brown piano settled on one side

Yoon-Gi wore a mocking smile. He could only laugh at himself.

"No piano?" asked Jungkook, curious.

"No, just Jimin..." he whispered to himself.

Jimin was his brown piano. Jimin was his most beautiful memory. Jimin was his only future.

"I'll never let him go again."

***

On the plane back to Korea, Jimin was staring attentively at the screen of his phone. He was frenetically refreshing the web page.

"What are you doing?" asked the guy next to him.

"It's been two years since Her published anything" Jimin muttered. "I was hoping she'd get back to work before I came home. I'd like to ask her to do something."

"You must be the only chaebol who admires this madwoman. Even your father calls her "the Slayer of Kings"."

Jimin shrugged and refreshed the web page once more.

"What do you want with her anyway?"

"Her goal is to reveal what's well hidden" Jimin replied. "I need her to reveal a name to the public. The name of a songwriter."

"What's the point?"

"The whole country attributes his songs to someone else."

"What's the big deal?"

Jimin glared at him and refreshed the web page again.

"I want everyone to know Min Yoon-Gi's talent and name."

The annoying guy gave him a surprised look.

"Min Yoon-Gi? The son of that Ahjumma who's been cleaning your parents' toilets for thirty years? You mean that depressive kid who used to wander around your house like an evil spirit, with the old ladies throwing salt at him?"

Jimin struggled to keep himself from pushing him in the face.

"His mother's a cook and he's no longer depressed."

"Your mind went to the trouble of remembering his name and now you want the whole country to do the same? He's a cook's son. You've gone mad. Or stupid."

The plane landed. The airport hall was packed with reporters. After all, Deputy Park's son was returning to Korea after a four-year absence. Jimin gave a controlled smile to the cameras. Beside him, the bastard who flew with him waved enthusiastically at the them. Jimin had always found those who approached him for a moment of glory to be pitiful.

Jimin quickly spotted the young driver hired by his father. Kim Seokjin was perfectly recognizable in the midst of all these banal faces. Jimin had simply heard of him and seen a picture. He was true to his reputation: relaxed and charismatic. After all, this inexperienced young man had managed to seduce his father into hiring him.

"Is this your friend?" asked Kim Seokjin. "Shall we drop him off somewhere?"

Jimin glanced at the man who had followed him for the past four years.

"A friend?" he asked loudly enough to be heard by the reporters. "My mind didn't even bother to remember his name."

Laughters made the bastard blush with shame. Jimin turned away from the man who had dared to insult Yoon-Gi.

"Her is capable of destroying the reputation of any individual in Korea in a few sentences" Jimin told his traveling companion. "But she's not the only one. I too can destroy a reputation in a few words."

The driver had cast an amused eye over the scene.

"Let's go" said Jimin.

When they were alone in the car, Jimin met the driver's gaze in the rearview mirror.

"I'm Park Jimin" he introduced himself.

"I'm Kim Seokjin" replied the driver. "Please call me Jin. Your father has assigned me permanently to your service."

Jimin smiled in satisfaction. He liked the driver.

"Where are we going?" asked Jin.

"Home" replied Jimin.

Catching the implication, Jin waited for Jimin to give him Yoon-Gi's address before driving off.

 ***

Kim Taehyung looked at himself in the mirror. His hair had grown and was falling in front of his eyes. With all the concentration he could muster, he cut off his overly long hair. When he finished, he winced. He had hated having his head shaved in the army, and cutting it off reminded him of that unsightly period of his life from which he had only just emerged. He washed his face and looked at himself again.

"You're very handsome" he tried to reassure himself. "The most beautiful face in the world."

In truth, he always looked hideous the morning after the Gift had manifested itself. Time travel had its price, even in dreams.

"Back to work!"

He sat down at his desk and reread his notes from the previous day. He bit his lower lip nervously. This case was unlike any other. If he was to believe the testimony of his ancestors and the words of his mother, the Gift was a divine manifestation enabling the country to retain its greatness and a modicum of political integrity. His ancestors had set up dynasties and put corrupt politicians behind bars. He himself had brought down influential and popular political figures by exposing their vices. The sole purpose of all this was to preserve the country. But he didn't really see how the death of a singer could negatively influence South Korea's political future. Even though Jeon Jungkook was highly regarded and had helped promote the country internationally, there seemed no reason why his suicide should plunge the entire country into chaos.

The operation of the Gift was simple. It was passed down from generation to generation, and only one family member at a time possessed it. The Gift was usually passed on a few weeks before the death of its previous owner. Taehyung was twelve when his mother died giving birth to his little sister.

"The Gift shows you an event that must absolutely be avoided" his mother had told him eleven years earlier. "Once you are aware of this event, the Gift will reveal past or future information that will help you prevent it."

The irony was that the only event the possessors of the Gift would witness without ever being able to prevent it was their own death. His mother had explained it all to him after dreaming of her own death. At the time, he didn't understand the seriousness of the situation, and only discovered the truth when he read the family book. It was then that he realized what a burden the Gift was. But it was a necessary evil. He couldn't imagine what would have happened to his country if he hadn't stopped some people before they came to power.

"Jeon Jungkook" whispered Taehyung. "What did you do to be so important to the country?"

Two years had passed since he had stopped his last case. His father had advised him to go into the army the year he turned twenty, as long as the political climate was calm. During his military service, the Gift had not manifested itself, for which he had been grateful. He understood that he was serving his country in a different way during this period. But two months after his return, here he was, back on duty. When he had to prevent his first case, he had created "Her", his pen name. It was under this pseudonym that he published the articles that had made his reputation. For some years now, he had even been nicknamed the "Slayer of Kings". He had taken on a female pseudonym to cover his tracks, and it worked well. No one had ever seriously questioned his gender. Many took him for a woman in her fifties. Who would suspect that a young man of twenty-three had the future of the country in his hands?

"Oppa."

Her little sister had just entered his room.

"Namjoon Oppa has just arrived."

Taehyung sighed. He'd suspected his father had called his editor-in-chief as soon as he heard the Gift had shown up again, but he had not expected Namjoon to arrive so soon. Together, Taehyung and Namjoon had made Her famous.

He followed his little sister into the living room. He greeted Namjoon briefly with a wave of his hand.

"What do you have to stop?" asked Namjoon, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

"Jeon Jungkook's suicide" replied Taehyung.

Namjoon remained silent for a few moments.

"Suicide? Are you sure? It seems strange to me."

"In any case, it looks like suicide."

But Taehyung couldn't help remembering the singer's last words: "I don't want to die".

"Last week, Jeon Jungkook's agency asked us to make a documentary about him. The gods have sent him to us to correct his terrible destiny! I'm going to write to them right now and tell them you'll be making the documentary."

"Hyung" sighed Taehyung. "I'm not really a field agent."

"This time you will be" declared his father. "I refuse to support you any longer! Earn some money."

"Get dressed" says Namjoon. "Let's meet this singer."

"You mean today?"

"Yes, today."

Two hours later, Taehyung and Namjoon were waiting for Jeon Jungkook at a café table. As soon as Taehyung saw Jungkook enter, he couldn't believe for a moment that it was suicide. Jungkook had a dazzling smile and his joie de vivre was reflected in his eyes. He didn't look like the young man he had seen in his dream.

"I don't want to die."

"What did you see" Taehyung whispered to himself. "What did you see that made them feel the need to kill you, Jeon Jungkook?"