JEON JIEL, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 24 YEARS as one of THE RED FOX TAVERN'S SERVERS. Do you think the grove owes you? At 24 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be CURIOUS and BRAVE, but the grove knows you're also ALOOF and SELFISH. Maybe you are like a TUNGSTEN RING. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: beach shore, cottage
Many, many years ago, a man and a woman fell in love. They had two children, one boy and one girl.
Many years later (although not that many), those babies' beautiful, loving mother perished. The weeks leading up to her death were strange; Her once glowing skin was pale, clammy, and cold. She would weep and moan through the night, thrashing about in her bed as if in a great deal of pain. When she walked through the house, she'd leave wet footprints in her wake though her skin was as dry as a bone.
As her strange illness worsened, it got harder for her to do any of her usual work. Jiel was forced to take up the mantle, going from a studious girl to a domestic servant in her own home, bitterly learning to cook and clean and abandoning her studies and passions for the world around to instead learn to bake and sew with more urgency than her mother had begun teaching her. Between scrubbing the house and taking care of her grandfather, she would occasionally have to go down to the lake in the dead of night and gently guide her mother back home, ignoring the terror in her gut and the beautiful but foreboding glint of the lake’s surface.
One night during the spring tide under a full moon, their mother left her bed in the dead of night and she never returned. She was survived by her patient, faithful and desolated husband, her bright but bitter little boy, and her solemn but brave little girl. Her body was never recovered, and the townsfolk decided that, like so many others, she had been taken by the lake. Jiel's father moved the family from Lakeside in a matter of days.
Now, Jiel spends her time at The Grave where she works part time to eavesdrop on customers, caring for her ailing father, or at the library poring over books in an effort to learn everything she can about Velgrove and its secrets. Fueled by a hunger for truth and insatiable curiosity, she is relentless in her search for answers and is often seen flitting around town on her bike, talking to anyone who will entertain her questions. She hopes that she'll learn something that will save her father and possibly herself.
YANG HANSOL, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 2 WEEKS as one of the town's UNEMPLOYED. Do you think the grove owes you? At 22 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be AMBITIOUS and CURIOUS, but the grove knows you're also GULLIBLE and CRITICAL. Maybe you are like an ICOSAHEDRON DICE. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: fields, farmer's barn
DECEMEBER (AGE: THIRTEEN)
at the most important age of my life, i am fatherless. homework is easy because eomma has a brain. talking gets...easier every time misol opens her mouth. strength? courage? all that it takes to be a man? i have been robbed of it. all of it.
thanks appa.
if not for misol, those punks would leave me on the streets for dead! i know they're probably sad about their own lives. that's why they punch me. at least they have the strength to, like real men. me? i'm still flimsy.
and yet, i cannot give up.
where did you go? eomma says you died when we were young, but if that's the case, then why aren't there any pictures of you? i know there must be some other reason. you wouldn't abandon me here, right? APRIL ( AGE: FIFTEEN)
TODAY IS THE LAST DAY I'LL EVER SHOW MY FACE IN PUBLIC! AGAIN! it was embarrassing enough that my dream girl from math class told me she'll only ever see me as a friend she probably heard how lame i was from all those jerks, but then misol had to try and come SAVE ME! MY OWN SISTER! it's bad enough that i am exactly 3.03 centimeters shorter than her, but the fact that she felt the need to protect me.
IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY. and she just doesn't get it! just for one day, i'd like to be seen as a true man with the ability to hold my own. appa. don't think i've forgotten. soon enough we'll both be sleeping at that cabin on top of the hill...or fishing together in the belly of a beast... or just playing chest together.
why did you leave?
---
happy birthday to my precious hansol and misol! i'm so sorry i can't be there to tell you how much you two mean to me in person. i have to leave town for a week, so hansol, make sure misol is on her best behavior! and misol, make sure your brother doesn't lose his head. for my misol, a star charm, to remind you that you are never alone. and for my hansol, a brown leather journal to start writing about the aches and pains of adulthood. promise to save me some cake for when i return!
eomma
--
JUNE (AGE: TWENTY-TWO)
okay. clean slate. i'm twenty-two now, and maybe it's time i give up on the mysteries. eomma got me this new journal. i've finally entered into real adulthood-- full of financial responsibility and milestone crises. i think by next year i'll start investing into my own home for me and my future spouse to move into. maybe a few years after that i'll have a lucrative career and have my name attached to multiple research papers. the future is limitless!
AUGUST (AGE: TWENTY-TWO)
WHY ISN'T SHE BACK YET? IT'S BEEN WEEKS. OVER A MONTH. she said she would be back. is she okay? does she miss us? i'm trying to bury my emotions deep inside to show misol that i can be strong (and slightly optimistic). the door never opens unless it's misol. the stove is never on unless we're cooking. there's no one to comment on our childish antics.
it's really the two of us against everything.
FEBRUARY (AGE: TWENTY-TWO)
misol doesn't look the same anymore. the disappearance is chipping away at her spirit. and, for the first time, i'll admit that i am a coward. i cannot protect my family. i cannot protect my sister. all i can do is sit here and watch her rub the tiny star in between her fingers. over and over. she's wishing for eomma to return, i know it.
but all i have is a note from...sumyeong? my alleged uncle. i didn't even know i had an extended family...though i'm sure eomma had to come from somewhere. a funeral for my halmeoni which took place the week she left. is this where she went? should i even bother following if all we have is each other.
MAY (AGE: TWENTY-TWO)
so we've started our journey to velgrove. i've convinced misol that maybe meeting our uncle sumyeong will either answer all our questions OR at least point us in the right direction. who knows? maybe we'll end up staying awhile and fitting right in with the rest of our family!
IDRIS SONG, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 30 YEARS as one of the town's MAINTENANCE TECHNICIANS. Do you think the grove owes you? At 30 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be HANDY and CURIOS, but the grove knows you're also CONFUSED and LOST. Maybe you are like a KEY. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: fields, cottage
In the beginning, there was a door.
That’s what he saw, anyway. A door. In the years since he has never heard tale of a birth being described this way, with him standing within the void, looking at a door. A door of solid oak, if he had to guess. There was no knob on the door, but there was a keyhole. How to open a door with no knob? He wondered, in his mother’s voice, as he had none yet himself. How indeed?
“With these.” Came a voice. A male voice, he noticed. A deep and soft voice belonging to a man. A tall man, he saw, as this speaking man appeared before the door. Tall and warm looking, but weary, tired. His hair was cotton pink and his ears stuck out to there. This man looked peculiar. Then, a jingle. The man held up a ring, a ring full of keys. The man held it out to him and he looked at the collection of jagged metal, curious. Curious indeed.
“Come, my time is up. I am tired. You must carry the keys now.”
How odd, he thinks. Not even born but he has been tasked with something. Something that feels important, though he cannot understand why he knows this. He hesitates, taking pause to marinate in his thoughts on the matter, but then… then he obliges. He steps forward, curling his fingers around the ring. The man smiles at him, satisfied. His eyes fall upon the smile, then glance to the keys - key. There is now one key. How odd indeed.
“You may go now. Good luck, Idris.”
The man steps aside, presenting the door. Idris’s eyes land on the keyhole, then search to glance at the man, but he is already gone. Strange. He steps forward, slowly bending upon a knee, his eye level with the keyhole. Something inside, something metallic clinks, clanks, churns and cranks. With a mind of its own, the key slides into the hole, settles nicely into its spot, and clicks. It turns and turns, turns round the clock, like time passing. Idris stands, watching as the key turns and spins, rotates about.
In the beginning, there was a door, and it opened.
How strange indeed.
Idris emerged into a garden. It was a lovely garden, with tall hedges towering like walls, forming a lovely maze with lovely twists and turns. It was absolutely splendid. Idris walked the maze of hedges, turning this way and that, all the while clutching his ring of many, many keys that jingled about at his side. This maze kept turning and turning like the arms of clock, time passing, seasons changing. The summer corners were humid and thick, the winter lengths were icy and chilled, but Idris found himself at the mouth of a spring entrance. An archway, beautifully adorned with roses coloured like strawberry milk, welcomed his presence and announced him to this place. It was absolutely splendid, this place.
He knew this place, the rusted brick and iron ornamentations painted in white, worn to ivory, chipped to a speckled state. He knew this patio ready for tea time, with roses abound and white tables and chairs, so ornate yet so used and worn. He knows this place so well and yet he doesn’t know it at all.
He doesn’t know this familiar place at all.
No memory, no recollection, but he belongs here. People seem to know him and he knows them, but he doesn’t know them either. He doesn’t know them at all, but their names fall from his lips with ease. These people are everything to him, he can feel it, yet he cannot for the life of him figure out who they truly are. He does not remember what they mean to him, he only knows that they meant a lot.
He does not remember.
This realization came with an ache, one which followed him for days. He had to be told things, things he already knew, and yet he could not recall. Even his own name felt foreign and yet completely his own. Idris. People called him and he did not respond right away, but upon the third or fourth uttering he would feel the start of his attention being grasped. His job was unfamiliar, yet he fell through the motions of maintenance work with a natural affinity. It all made sense, and yet none of it did.
Eventually he settles.
He carries his keys around the town, checking into buildings, the keys morphing to whatever he needs to get inside. He cleans, he fixes, he repairs and assesses. He aids in the quiet solace of the after hours. He inspects work orders and fulfills them. He locks up behind himself everytime. “How do you have a copy of that key?” Said no one, not to the maintenance man who was meant to be there all along. Nothing out of the ordinary.
This is important. The keys, the keys.
Idris does not know why the keys are so important to hold and lord over, but he knows that they are heavy on his belt, in his hand. He knows that receiving them was his birth. He knows he must do something with them, someday. They jingle at his side wherever he goes. No one questions it.
But his mother questioned.
His mother, so he was told, so they say, she was his mother. She asked about the keys one day, in the garden, such a lovely garden. Idris was trimming the hedges with his garden sheers, which he found in the shed, which he had a key for, except his mother never gave him a copy of the key to the shed. How strange. So she asked, and drank her tea on the patio, so perfectly set for tea time, and Idris trimmed. His sheers clapped and snapped and snipped and whipped, clipping and nipping. Snip, the branches, snip, the leaves. Snip. Snip.
He enjoyed the rest of the afternoon in that lovely garden. So absolutely splendid with the hedges and the archway with the roses adorning it, strawberry red petals. Petals, petals. Idris watched as he looked up to the sky and saw bright red petals cascading around him in a whirling cone. Such lovely petals, so absolutely splendid. “Spring is here.”
It has been awhile since that spring. A few springs have passed since. Now Idris spends his time alone on the family estate. He tends the garden with his sheers, not a leaf out of place. He ensures all buildings are well maintained throughout town. He does his job, he opens doors, and he pulls the weeds.
In the end, there was a door. In his mind, a door, with no knob, no handle, no bar. It is a door, and it is solid. Oak. There is a keyhole, but Idris keeps the keys, so many keys. He cannot find the key to this door. So many questions stand at this door, but the answers say they shall not pass. The answers hide on the other side of the door in his mind. If only he could unlock it. If only he could open it. His mind is a maze, blocked by a door, the one door for which he has no key.
LEVI WU, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 2 MONTHS as the TOWN HUNTER AND DUSKWING'S OVERNIGHT COOK. Do you think the grove owes you? At 26 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be ADAPTABLE and COURAGEOUS, but the grove knows you're also AVOIDANT and PETTY. Maybe you are like a RABBIT CAUGHT IN A TRAP. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: apartment, uptown
trigger warnings: family death, dissociative amnesia
levi was raised in a loving family. unlike his younger siblings, they say he had been the lucky one. to have been raised by their father. to remember their father. to remember his love before he had passed away. they say he was the lucky one for all of these things, but they don’t know about the sacrifices that levi had made for the loss of their father. he doesn’t speak of it, nor does his mother.
levi saw the hardships of being a single mother and pushed himself to help her as much as he could. he was brilliant in school but never finished it — going on to take on different jobs to help make ends meet. their only source of income had come from their father’s small business that had hurriedly been swiped from them following his death.
through the years, they struggled until they managed to float. until levi’s meager earnings managed to push his siblings through school one by one. in what can only be explained as a tragic accident, levi lost his entire family when their house burned down overnight during one of his work shifts.
the trauma has scarred levi intensely. his defense mechanisms have led to dissociative amnesia and compartmentalization, blocking out the entire tragedy. this led to levi moving to velgrove to start over.
at present ,
levi arrived to velgrove two months ago and hurriedly took up the position as the town’s hunter. not much is known about him. though he has a cold exterior, he’s quite gentle and warm-hearted. levi himself doesn’t talk much about where he’s from or why he’s there. it’s not so much that he’s secretive, only that he doesn’t seem to remember much himself. all he knows is that he dearly loves his family and he chose to move to velgrove in hopes of establishing a new foundation for them.
he’s also picked up an additional job at duskwing as an attempt to earn as much money as he can. his current plans revolve around renovating and expanding the hunter’s lodge to fit all his family members.
SEO EUNBYEOL, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 3 WEEKS as one of STALL ARTISANS. Do you think the grove owes you? At 24 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be INTUITIVE and CHARISMATIC, but the grove knows you're also SUPERSTITIOUS and EVASIVE. Maybe you are like a A WORN TAROT CARD DEPICTING THE STAR. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: downtown, red fox tavern
SEO EUNBYEOL arrives in VELGROVE as if she’s returning to an old, forgotten memory.
she comes dressed like the night sky, clothes covered in hand-sewn ruffles, draped in all things inky and dark, pulling at her petticoats and luggage, smiling as though she’s caught up in a dream. she comes as soon as the seasons begin to shift and the stars begin to lose their light and the moon begins to wane, slowly giving way to the start of a new day. the stars in her eyes twinkle, sparkling underneath the fluttering of her lashes — she moves through the town as if it is somewhere she had once called home even though she’s never felt the ground beneath her feet here before.
it’s a mystery how she came about — no one had seen her emerge from the depths of thistle forest or from the mountain path leading towards the larger cities. simply, she had just appeared as though from thin air — found standing at the center stalls one morning at dawn just as the first few steaks of blue touched the dark sky.
she hums soft tunes, sings gently, producing melodies no one has heard of before — she sets up shop as if she had been there her whole life and as if she’s simply returned to what she’s always known. she spends hours putting up her wares on display — protective charms meant to keep those who travel into the forest safe, a few cracked crystals known to bring good fortune to those who lived by the water’s edge and a sign stating that a crafted star chart could put one on the right path, guide them from the darkness in their hearts and instead turn them towards the light.
she smiles from dusk until dawn, calling sweetly to those who linger at her stand — as though bound to this place, as though tethered to what so many called a land filled with misfortune and monsters and curses and catastrophe. while so many try to run from the depths of the grove, claw their way towards a different life, plead to find themselves in a different home, curse the land to the burning abyss of hell and back, eunbyeol seeks it out like lost, lonely travelers look to stars for guidance in the night sky.
in the midst of so much wickedness, it somehow feels like THE DEVIL has now found a home.
NOH AERA, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 28 YEARS as one of the town's BALLERINA AND DANCE TEACHER. Do you think the grove owes you? At 28 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be FRIENDLY and EMPATHETIC, but the grove knows you're also MANIPULATIVE and SECRETIVE. Maybe you are like GLASS WIND CHIMES. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: lakeside, cottage
one turn. two turns. three turns. stopping in a perfect arabesque. a drop of sweat rolling down her neck as aera stopped dancing, her breathe even after years of training exhaustively. the twenty-eight years old knew what she was doing, she wasn’t known as a hotshot ballerina for nothing.
it all started when she was born, to a hard-working father and a stay-at-home mother, who had her own dreams before aera was born, so obviously, it transferred to aera herself. ballet classes at home. breaking through when she was ten years old. her mother was the first to disappear one day, close to the harvest festival, and as she wasn’t a child, it didn’t get the attention it should have gotten it; aera was heartbroken, which led her into simply going deep into ballet as if it was her lifeline — because at that moment, it felt just like that.
her father quit everything to help her, travelling around as she presented herself, it wasn’t usual for women to make it big, but oh — aera’s name grew so much. the fame was intoxicating, all of the attention, she loved it. she lived for it. so, at 15 when she made a small stop back in velgrove, at the arrival of the first letter with pictures of her, she didn’t really freak out; she felt thrilled, she was the sole muse of someone, their main attraction. each month, she would get a letter. she would get roses, with cards and gifts all signed with a simple letter.
most of her teen years were spent coming and going from velgrove, long trips and tiring routines, but the gifts were always there, whoever it was, it wouldn’t forget her. and she loved it, she loved being someone obsession. she loved the constant attention, their need for her. they were from velgrove, she knew that much, but didn’t quite inquire further — after all, she was rarely there to inquire anything.
and then, her father disappeared by lakeside, no news, no searching for him, simply gone as the legends kept saying around the town. and at nineteen, she returned to velgrove. after all, those born there, were destined to live there forever. she wasn’t as big anymore, a small town didn’t have time to dwell on dance moves of a girl, but she managed to push through everyone’s expectations and teach children, she didn’t quite need money, yet it was a good way to distract herself.
one turn. two turns. three turns. a piqué. she smiled slightly as she danced, basked by the sunset light entering her house. knowing they were watching. they always watched.
CHO SARA, do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 1 MONTH as one of the town's FREELANCE MEDIUM. Do you think the grove owes you? At 28 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be CLEVER and INTUITIVE, but the grove knows you're also UNSTABLE and OPPORTUNISTIC. Maybe you are like a MIRROR STARTING TO CRACK. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: downtown, cottage
trigger warnings: death, implied struggle with addiction
it reeks of death here.
one foot forward after the other, mud squelches beneath leather boots and wheels of a suitcase that had seen much brighter days. what once rolled as four, now only three remained. for two whole days she saunters under canopies of trees, follows pathways of forgotten cement roads, and passes through empty streets. every now and then, drivers slowed their vehicles and hollered upon spotting what they assumed was a lost damsel. do you need a ride, miss? unblinking eyes stare directly ahead, unresponsive to their calls of concern before getting spooked by eerie indifference and speeding away. a certain cloudiness obscure obsidians that see past the veil between the living and the dead. farther and farther she goes, deeper and deeper into the unknown.
disembodied voices murmur their lamentations in varying choruses with every step. crying. screaming. wailing. each fighting for her attention as they always do. but one drowns them all, hushes them to a silence as its dulcet whispers cut through the presently hollow vessel. she comes to her senses like a rubber band snapping back against a wrist, harshly yanking her from whatever trance she had been put under the last few days. as if her soul had been in suspension and gravity suddenly decided to work again.
confusion contorts her visage and causes her to look around, halting at the edge of a sleepy coastal town, not yet fully aware just how far she had gotten from the reaches of the rest of the world. a swelling ache in the muscles betrays her adventure, exhaustion creeping into her bones and wrapping themselves beneath tender flesh. settling in a cottage downtown for the night, a weary mind ought to rest.
SONG JIEUN (MOON JADE), do you believe that the grove will hide your secrets?
It's best to think again. The grove can only do so much for you. You've lived amongst it's protection for 25 YEARS as the town's SECRETARY. Do you think the grove owes you? At 30 YEARS OLD, there's no guarantee what you'll experience here in velgrove. You may be COMPASSIONATE and PATIENT, but the grove knows you're also DEPENDENT and OVERBURDENED. Maybe you are like a SIMPLE GOLD LOCKET WITH NOTHING INSIDE. Will that change by the time the grove is through with you?
residence: town center, cottage
trigger warnings: mentions of death, murder and domestic abuse
SONG JIEUN does not remember life before velgrove — she does not remember growing up as moon jade nor does she remember growing up in the heart of hano dullum city. she doesn’t remember how her biological mother, moon lina, would cradle her in her arms, tuck jade jieun into her side as her older brother, moon kai, would latch himself onto his mother’s waist, the three of them nestled together under the warm glow of the fireplace. she doesn’t remember kai trying to read stories to her and she doesn’t remember when her father, moon soren, would come home from work and kiss his wife on the cheek as though he had been looking forward to doing so all day. she doesn’t remember when soren first fell into gambling debt after a losing streak in the heart of the city nor does she remember when financial strain had begun to show.
jieun doesn’t remember how the kisses turned into screaming matches which transitioned into physical fights in front of her and her brother. she doesn’t remember kai holding her tight as he locked the two of them in a closet. she doesn’t remember her father gripping her arm, telling her that with her by his side, he was the luckiest father alive. she doesn’t remember her mother pleading for her life, for her and kai’s life, nor does she remember the day that her mother dropped to the floor in a pool of blood. she doesn’t remember kai leaning over her, trying to fight his own father off to protect his sister — and jieun doesn’t remember her father pressing a knife to her throat, all before her uncle, song hyunwoo, arrived to their cottage.
jieun doesn’t remember song hyunwoo pushing moon soren’s lifeless body away from her nor does she remember the way her aunt, song minhee, was hysterical, cradling in her arms and promising her that they’d take her somewhere far, far away from this life.
what she does remember is VELGROVE — the soft green of its fields in the growing season, the golden haze that hangs low in the ripening season and the heavy quiet of the dark season when the snow piles high along the town hall steps. she remembers how minhee her mother would fix the collar of her sweater and give her a kiss on the cheek before sending her out the door and she remembers hyunwoo’s her father’s warm smile when she brought home perfect scores on tests. she remembers when her brother, jiho, was born — remembers holding him as he reached out with tiny hands towards her and remembers his first laugh and the first time the two of them had sat in the fields at dusk and counted all the stars hanging overhead. she remembers the four of them living as a happy family.
jieun remembers growing into the rhythms of the town throughout her adolescence and she remembers the way people seemed to relax around her and how small fortunes and bits of luck would follow in her wake — the neighbor who found his lost wedding ring hours after she stopped to chat, the shopkeeper whose slow business picked up enough to keep him afloat the week after she started visiting and their neighbor’s cat returning home after being lost for weeks. she doesn’t think much of it and doesn’t believe herself to be the cause, but she’s heard the whispers: midas touched. but folklores in velgrove are just that — fairy tales, superstitions.. she’ll never believe that the swell of nausea that hits her once someone has been touched by her ‘luck’ is anything other than low iron.
jieun remembers the day she walked into the town hall as an employee for the first time and she remembers the feel of the desk beneath her fingertips, the scent of paper and polish. she remembers the way her presence seemed to fill the reception with something steady and warm. she remembers the names, the schedules, the endless lists that built the scaffolding of velgrove’s civic life and she remembers thinking she could do this forever.
what jieun does not remember though is the darkness that came before this light. the memories from her life before are buried away, never to be uncovered, nothing but unclear flashes of blurred faces and scenes she can’t quite place. she’s convinced she had perhaps gotten in an accident as a child, maybe fallen from a tree or gotten one too many mouthfuls of ocean water in her lungs. all reasonable explanations, her parents have told her so at least over the years. as an adult now, she tries not to concern herself with the missing memories anymore, as she has plenty of fresh ones to keep her content.. though she can’t help but get a sinking feeling in her skin when she has a nightmare that seems a little too real.
