"Come on, hurry up—she'll leave."
A hand tugged at his sleeve. He frowned.
"Do we really have to go now?"
"Yeah. I already told my friends I'd bring you. We're almost there."
He didn't answer.
The night market thrummed with energy. Lanterns swayed overhead, spilling warm golden light across the crowded street. Stalls pressed close on both sides, alive with voices, laughter, and the thick scent of grilled meat, caramelized sugar, and hot oil.
Tucked at the edge of the bustle stood a quieter stall, draped in dim, flickering lights that seemed to resist the festival's glow. It felt older. Set apart.
"Okay, don't pull," he muttered as his sister dragged him inside.
The clamor vanished the moment they crossed the threshold, swallowed by an unnatural hush. An old woman sat on a wooden chair in the center, waiting. Her gaze settled on him at once—calm, unwavering, and far too knowing.
"Looks like we have an interesting guest," she said.
Something cold traced his spine.
"Mind telling me your name, young lad?"
He sat down opposite her. "Arthur. Yours?"
A slow smile formed on her face. "Selena. But you can call me Granny."
His eyes lingered on her. Her breathing was steady, her posture composed. She had not looked away from him even once.
"Okay, Granny," he said. "As you can see, my sister dragged me here so you can read my future an
Se-ah slammed her hand onto the table. "Stop, big bro. I'll talk." She leaned forward, eyes bright. "Granny, I want you to look into my big brother's fate—then tell me… Will he get a girlfriend? How old is she? And will he make enough to take care of me?"
The old woman remained silent, her gaze fixed on Arthur.
He glanced at his sister. "You really expect me to take care of you for your whole life?"
"Yup." Se-ah grinned. "I don't want to work."
"Fate… is a troublesome thing," Granny Selena murmured. "Not everything can be seen."
Se-ah leaned in. "So… how does this work?"
The old woman stood without answering. She turned, retrieved a worn briefcase, and opened it with a quiet click. From inside she drew a pack of cards, their edges thick with dust.
Arthur folded his arms. "Let me guess. You pull out a crystal ball, have me place my hand on it, smile faintly, and tell me I'll marry the love of my life."
Granny Selena glanced at him. "Nope. That won't work here."
"Crystal balls aren't my thing," she said. "And they wouldn't work for you."
She laid the cards out in five rows of five. All of them looked identical—blank, unmarked.
"Pick one from each row."
Arthur studied the spread. "Cards? Really?"
"Pick one."
He reached forward and chose a card. "Now what?"
"Shake it."
He shook the card. For a moment nothing happened. Then it darkened, the surface swallowing the faint light around it until it sat in his palm like a hole in the air.
"…Looks like your thing's faulty."
Granny's fingers stilled on the table. "It isn't," she said, quieter than before. "It means the path ahead is veiled. There is nothing to read… or it lies too far beyond sight." She paused. "Next."
The second card stirred when he shook it. A pale, empty sky appeared, split violently down the middle by a jagged tear. Fractured light bled through the wound, and faint cracks spread outward like shattering glass.
Granny Selena's voice dropped. "A breaking. A great fracture in the world as you know it. Disaster will come, sudden and irreversible. It will cleave your life in two."
He shook the third card. A cold blue flame licked across its surface for one breath, two—then died, leaving nothing but scorched blankness and the smell of ozone.
Arthur didn't flinch. "Nice trick. You rigged it with chemicals?"
Granny said nothing. Her hands had retreated into her sleeves.
"…Granny?"
"Some futures burn before they form." She did not look at him. "Pick the next."
The fourth card revealed a line of shadowed figures walking through ruined streets. Broken buildings leaned like forgotten tombs, yet the people pressed forward toward a single, fragile point of light on the horizon.
"Survival," she whispered. "You will walk through the wreckage. Others will follow your steps. You will carry the burden of leadership in the dark… but not every hand that reaches for yours will make it to the light." Her gaze lingered on him, and for a moment she looked terribly tired. "Blood may walk beside you. Not all of it will reach the end."
Arthur stayed silent, jaw tight.
He picked the final card and shook it. A small silhouette appeared—child-sized—standing against a flare of light, its outline sharp and clear. Heavy darkness pressed in from every side, reaching toward the tiny figure like living smoke.
He stared at it longer than he meant to.
"And this one?" he asked.
"It means you will meet your fated one," Granny Selena said. "A presence bound to your path. It may stand as an ally, mirror, or shadow—perhaps even more. The light behind them is yours. The darkness around them… may be yours as well."
Arthur set the card down. "I'm not into kids."
A quiet breath escaped the old woman. "Fated does not always mean lover. The meaning depends on the one who sees it."
Se-ah cleared her throat. "Ahem. I wanted to know if he would get a girlfriend… and now you're telling me he could die?"
"He won't die," Granny replied.
Se-ah frowned. "So will he get a girlfriend?"
"About that…" The old woman looked at Arthur once more. "You might want to lower your expectations. He is quite blunt."
Se-ah stood, visibly disappointed. "That's not what I came for. At least I can enjoy the festival. Let's go, big bro."
She paused halfway out and pulled out her phone. "I told my friends I'd take a picture with you. To prove I actually brought you here." She turned to him. "So… can we take a selfie?"
"I don't mind."
They stood together. Granny Selena remained seated behind them, watching in silence. The camera clicked.
"Bye," Se-ah said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back into the lively street. "Now buy me ice cream."
Arthur turned to leave—then stopped. Granny Selena held out the first card, the one that had swallowed light, pinched between two fingers.
"Take it."
He didn't move. "Why?"
"Because some paths only reveal themselves when you carry them." She pressed it into his palm. Her skin was cold. "You won't feel it yet. One day, you will."
He looked at the blank card, then at her. "…You're weird."
She settled back into her chair, watching him in silence.
"No."
"You'll get a cold."
"And you won't be able to go to school," she countered, narrowing her eyes. "You want me to tell Mom… about that thing you added to your car that makes it so loud?"
Arthur sighed. "…Which flavor?"
"Chocolate. And strawberry."
They collected the ice creams and drifted back into the crowd. The night air moved around them, carrying music and distant laughter.
"I'm not the type to enjoy festivals," Arthur said quietly, "but this is… nice."
Se-ah licked her chocolate cone.
"Aren't you cold in that?" he asked, glancing at her clothes.
"Nope. I need to feel the wind."
"Don't come crying to me when you get a cold."
"I won't. I'm a very healthy person—unlike you."
"…Whatever. Let's go."
They walked homeward beneath the strings of lanterns. Arthur lifted his gaze to the sky.
The moon hung above them, quiet and unnaturally still, its edges ringed with a faint, sickly haze. He stopped walking.
"…Is it just me," he murmured, "or does the moon look kind of weird today?"
Se-ah glanced up. "I don't see anything."
Arthur frowned. A quiet unease settled deep in his chest, one he couldn't name. He thought of the jagged tear in the second card, the way the fractured light had bled through.
"…Let's go."
He didn't look back at Granny's stall.
They reached the front gate. The blank card sat in his pocket, weightless. He'd forgotten it was there until his house key pressed it against his thigh—cold, somehow, despite the summer air.
He flicked it into the bushes by the porch. It caught the porch light, fluttered, and vanished in the dark.
You're slow," Se-ah said, already inside.
"Coming."
He stood there a moment longer than he needed to. The night was quiet. Then Se-ah yelled his name again and he went in.