( nightmare roulette ); 004

[tinge]

over the years, as time went on and everyone aged around them, jinah did too. years passed and their little home they built back in 2021, stood the test of time. they made upgrades, updated paintings in their foyer. every sunday they would have breakfast outside in their garden. sven had built them a gazebo, she grew the roses that wrapped around it. it was quaint and perfect. she could wave her hand and grow fresh flowers, while sipping the coffee sven made. who was seated across from her eating the breakfast she made. life was quaint, peaceful. jinah even aged herself alongside sven, so she appeared less like his cradle robbed girlfriend and his actual wife. of course sans the knowledge that she was a thousand or so years older. one morning, while tending to the garden, kneeled with a pair of pruning sheers. she hears a clatter from inside their home. she jumps to her feet and hurried inside, leaving behind her basket of clipped roses. something she had learned was that as sven aged, she had to be more cautious of his body. he had a random fall a few years prior and he was getting up their in age. she was there in seconds and found him beside a shattered dish, clutching his chest while hunched over on the ground. "sweetie!" her hands moved fast, one over the hand at his chest, and the other grabbed the phone. she called for an ambulance, while her healing powers worked its magic. she had no idea that tears were streaming down her cheeks, and that try as she might, he was succumbing to his heart attack. the tears never ceased, even as she sat outside of the surgery room, the empty hall feeling colder than usual inside the hospital. they were here years earlier, when he had some minor surgery. she remembers sitting at his bedside, slicing up an apple and he laughs at her then. 'noona, why are you crying? everyone has this surgery! you knew i would be okay.' and at the time, all she could muster was, 'i know.' and they laughed, him commenting on the salty apples, seasoned by her tears. her eyes stare at her feet, she didn't have a thought to change out of her house slippers. her knees are grass strained, her hands are balled up fists. the thin skin revealing green veins, the wrinkles, and age spots, but these are tiny details. all she can think is about him. a man comes to sit down, dressed in all black. his suit crisp, his hair dark. he's tall and domineering. he sits quietly beside her, unable to come up with the words to say then. this isn't their first meeting. death has met jinah many times. each time, he chides her, tries to teach her, sometimes they fight. "you know you cannot save everyone." he starts, this is how all of their conversations go. he's always calm, despite how upset he is at her disturbance of the natural order. "it's his time, jinah." and what she does next is what keeps him from continuing. she slides off her seat, the "수술" sign is still lit up. she kneels before him, head bowed. "it's too early. please." she begs and looks up, her hand reaching up for his, clutching it in both. desperately pleading. "i can't say goodbye yet. please. give me more time with him. i'll do anything." he's stunned. he couldn't speak. this 1400 year old something nymph, who had lived through great events within the magical world, witnessed wars, and time pass for both their sides. at the height of her own power, she had brought most of the underworld to their knees when she ran the empire after her mother's passing. how did her marriage to a human bring her to this level? watching jinah posture herself, she suddenly appeared so small. not her twenty-something, thirty-something self that frolicked through the forests of korea in the joseon period or the girl who ran amok in seoul's night life. this wasn't her. they reach a decision. she agrees to not use her powers on anyone else. and sven lives awhile longer. each ache and sprain, she treats. he ages, and she changes her appearance with each year to match. a new wrinkle or age spot which she marvels over and they joke about it. they show up on his skin as well. as he ages a myriad of health issues come to him and she acts as that barrier. his arthritis isn't so bad, his kidneys, hearts, and lungs are a picture of perfect health. the doctors are amazed by how each scan comes back with good feedback. he's doing great. and the years pass by, and they're happy. until one morning, when jinah rolls over and prods him awake. "yeobo, want to go out today?" she yawns, softly and blinks at him. she's met with confusion in his eyes. a look there she has never seen before. "who are you?" "it's me, jinah." "no, noona doesn't age." it was dementia. the doctors say he'll have good days and they do. and soon enough, those good days become fewer and fewer. and so, one morning she changes her outward appearance. back to the way he remembered her. and that morning when he awakens, he beams. "noona!" he recognizes her instantly. and they spend the rest of their years together, with this young twenty-nine, thirty-something year old girl that walked hand in hand with sven as he neared his nineties. ahjummas would comment, "what a good granddaughter you are!" "i'm not his granddaughter, i'm his wife!" she would skip off as their jaws dropped, and the two of them would laugh over how shocked the elderly women were. and that's how they lived their lives. content with themselves. had their meals together. jinah tended to the garden and helped him walk around, when his joints ached too much, she would push him in the wheelchair. he would listen to his favorite records while she rubbed his back, allowing her soothing powers to heal his aches. everything was perfect. until one morning, she rolled over and scooted in close to cuddle him. only to find his body unmoving. he wasn't breathing and she couldn't find a pulse. his heart had stopped. sometime while they slept, side by side. she goes numb, sobbing so loudly that she's not even terrified that her wails would alert the neighbors. she buries her face against his pajama covered shoulder and the tears seep into the fabric. she's still numb at the funeral. she goes through all the steps, saying goodbye at the funeral home. sitting in the viewing room, as everyone came to pay their respects. flower wreaths lined the hallway, flowers filled the room she sat in. wearing her black hanbok, his photo on the altar with his ashes. candles lit. there's idle chatter in the room over where all the guests came to eat and talk. there's some merriment as they talked and gathered together. jinah never moved. he had outlived all of his friends and family. all of their non-human friends came to pay her a visit. no one seemed to be able to move her from her spot. one by one, people left. the candles slowly burned out. and from the darkness, death returns. he watches from there, not alone. as his guest says his goodbyes and leaves for the after life. death lingers and walks towards her, joining her on the floor with the only question he pondered from their last meeting. "was it worth it? marrying a human just to feel what you're feeling?" "always." she says, with a croak, her voice soft and quiet. "i would do it all over again, too." his ashes are scooped out, handfuls dipped into the river to set him free. a tiny bit is kept around her neck in a heart shaped locket. and at the base of her tree, she quietly buries another handful. and in she goes, curling up in her tree to sleep for another decade or two. come out for birthdays of her other friends, sometimes to wander in search of him. perhaps he had reincarnated and enough time had passed that they would run into one another again. but she sleeps out the rest of her life, her heart too set in stone. she loved him that much. slowly, she awakens from the dream. blinking through tears and feeling his fingers brush at her cheeks. "noona?" he asks, tentatively. she blinks a few more times, trying to figure out what had just happened. that dream had felt so long. she slides under the comforter towards him until she's enveloped in his arms. "it was just a dream." she whispers and tucks her face into the crook of his neck.