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Chapter 1

The Cycle of Never-­ending Rebirths

‘This is not a dream. This is real.’

Sometimes  – no, too often  – the cruelty of the real world cut more deeply than a dream.

Despite all efforts to open and close her eyes, or to fall back to sleep and to wake up again, she remained painfully awake and alone. She had not understood how to control her powers. And now she had caused her entire family to disappear.

I can set things right, I know I can, she told herself as she pored over a pile of books from the training school.

Finally, she found something.

From the start, take care not to dream at night. Even the slightest lack of control over your gift will mean that in the moment before you fall asleep anything you wish for will come true, even if it is merely an inadvertent or passing thought. To prevent any misuse of power, and to avoid a potentially dangerous situation, you must meditate before bedtime and practise positive thinking.

A wave of despair crashed over her. She tried closing her eyes and counting to a hundred. But no matter how desperately she tried to fall into a dream of her family returning, she always woke up alone.

Could Mum and Dad have fallen into another world, just like the one in the story? Even if I have to comb through the whole universe, I’ll find them. I promise. Time will wait for me. Surely, when I am reborn for the millionth time, we will be reunited? I will make everything right again.

There’s a saying that people driven to the edge often find super-­strength within themselves. Fuelled by her misery, the girl unknowingly tapped into her newfound powers, sealing her fate to wander the world in a cycle of never-­ending rebirths. The warnings of danger meant nothing to her. What could be worse than losing her loved ones? Nor did she heed the words of caution to use her powers only for good as she set off on her seemingly eternal search for her family. In the intersection of time and space, the girl with the rosy cheeks began to lose her beautiful smile. She did not care how long it took to find her parents. Life after life, she continued to wander lost through the world.

Where are they? Please . . . let me find them,
or else, let this all be a bad dream.

Going through the motions of living life over and over was not enough  – her efforts to track down her parents were in vain. All she managed to do was to rob herself of the freedom to die once and for all. As much as she wanted to find her loved ones, she was increasingly desperate to stop this never-­ending cycle of rebirth. She yearned to grow old and really die, like any ordinary person. In her aching loneliness, she became immune to life’s joy. It’s OK. Once I find my parents, I’ll be able to smile again. Consumed by this thought, she lived each life using her ability for no one but herself.

As time passed, her eyes clouded over with melancholy, and as she ceased to be able to cry, her face became a blank canvas. Loneliness seeped into her bones, she developed a vacant stare, and as she gradually stopped eating or even sleeping, she started to shrivel to skin and bone.

To ensure her parents would recognize her, she dared not stray very far from the age she’d been when they were separated. In some lives, she was a twenty-­something, in others, in her thirties. On a couple of occasions, she lived as a forty-­year- old, but never, ever older. Deep down, though, she knew that her real fear stemmed from the gradual loss of her childhood memories, and she might be the one to walk on by without recognizing them. Weariness filled her heart. Meanwhile, time – cruelly – continued to speed by.

Is it the millionth time yet? If only today were a dream.

Why weren’t her wishes coming true? When would she be able to use her powers freely? She had no idea, and nothing was more futile than agonizing over a question with no answers. She felt a pang of regret. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to leave the books from the training school behind in the village.

It was day one of a new life all over again. She opened her eyes, shuffled out of bed and grabbed the kettle.

Water, boil! Come on, blub blub . . . It’s not too much to ask.

She muttered to herself out of habit as she lifted the lid to fill the kettle. She could wake up at whatever age she wanted, and wherever she wanted, keep her looks and even her home and her belongings. So why weren’t her other wishes coming true?

‘Hmm, where’s my cup? It should be here . . .’

She craned her neck and rummaged around on the top shelf, moving on to the bottom drawer before finally catching sight of the white cup on the ledge right at eye level. She stared at it. Had it been there all the time?

The kettle whistled shrilly.

‘I. Miss. Them.’

Saying it aloud made her ache with longing. She was exhausted. She’d never known any fun or happiness. But even as she rid herself of the freedom to feel, other people were a comforting presence. They stayed by her side without pressuring her, even though she had nothing to offer in return. But each time, just as she felt herself getting attached to them, she’d flee to her next life. Their faces flashed through her mind – all those who’d shown friendship towards her even as she kept her distance. Over and over, she found herself wishing she could stop wandering like a lost sheep and settle down.

‘But what right do I have to do so?’

Whenever she caught herself wishing to settle anywhere, she took it as a sign to move on.

It wasn’t like she was sad all the time. There were things she enjoyed, such as listening to other people’s stories. Her ability to empathize allowed her to share their pain, and once they’d calmed down, she’d serve them some tea and watch their smiles slowly return to their faces.

She enjoyed the subtle shift in the air when people relaxed in her presence. It wasn’t hard for her to listen to frustrating stories. Having lived much longer than anyone else, she naturally came to know that in life there were more difficult moments than happy ones. The stories people shared with her flowed like music to her ears.

Instead of burying any negativity and leaving long-­lasting marks on their hearts, it was much better that they open up to her, as she could silently clear the dark clouds over them. A part of her hoped that if she could soothe more hearts, someday, hers too would be filled.

She knew this was her power. But what if she lost someone again? Did love always have to be accompanied by the fear of loss? Having frozen time for herself, whenever she saw people around her growing visibly older, she felt compelled to leave even when it was hard to walk away.

Sometimes she wondered if any of those people could be her lost loved ones. Was it possible she remained so mired in guilt from her mistake that she failed to realize what she was looking for had been right in front of her all along? Just like the white cup.

She reached out for it and poured in the water, deep in thought. Whether it was to boil the water or fill the cup, these were ultimately her choices. OK, stop it, she told herself firmly. Her thoughts were going nowhere. She’d reached a point where even going through the motions of rebirth was taking a huge toll on her. Should she try and give up? No. Stop thinking like this, she chided herself, shaking her head to erase her thoughts.

She blew at the steam rising over the cup, took careful sips and looked around her home. Despite waking up in a different neighbourhood each time, the layout of her home remained the same. A bedroom, a living room, a small kitchen – a simple apartment about twelve pyeong in size, sparsely furnished with only a bed, a small vanity table, a wardrobe, and a table and chair set. Many lifetimes ago, she’d lived in a large, elaborately decorated mansion, but the space had only amplified her loneliness.

She made it a point to have a job in each of her lives, and because she barely spent any money, her wealth naturally grew. Ironically, she found herself having fewer needs and wants. She walked listlessly over to the window.

‘How beautiful.’