Makings of Multiplicity

Sori wa Mu - Part II

PsyRen — Wed, 29 Jul 2026 08:02:58 GMT

Disclaimer: AI assited in the finalization of the art. It also contributed as an editor to the text. All final edits were reviewed by me.

AI Art Process

PsyRen — Wed, 29 Jul 2026 03:38:46 GMT

When I tell people I use AI, I'm often met with very negative assumptions. I try to explain my point of view, but many people are dedicated to their stance. For everyone else, here's a few examples of how I've used AI in my art.

Sori wa Mu

PsyRen — Tue, 28 Jul 2026 12:47:20 GMT

Formerly called HeirS and before that Dragon King, this was always meant to be a webcomic. Unfortunately I lost confidence in my ability to illustrate it all, so here we are.

I wrote this mostly in 1st person perspective, but the narrator changes every chapter. I'm open to criticism, and open to suggestions for where to go from here... I've hit a bit of a roadblock... not writer's block per se, more like too many projects so little time. This one is not high on my priorities because I've been working on it for years, and also in my heart I still want it to be a fully illustrated adorable comic. If anyone is interested in collaborating hit me up (psyren.contact@gmail.com)

Disclaimer: AI assisted to color my linework for the cover and edit complete drafts with minor changes for pacing or errors.

Chapter 1 Sori

Mornings are better. People are quieter when they’re asleep. Not silent. Not really. There’s always something. But it’s like muttering underwater. It’s more like a feeling of sound than an actual noise. I don’t mind their thoughts when they’re asleep. It’s when they wake up that it gets loud.

I get here early on purpose. The town is still grey, which helps. Buildings, streets, all of it. Flat. Predictable. No one thinking about me. No one thinking at me. Just wind and a dog somewhere behind a wall, dreaming about running. “Faster, faster,” he’s thinking.

Inside my bag my fingers fumble around for the edge of a paper. It’s better to get it ready before it gets too loud.

I take the picture out and close my eyes. I can feel it starting. One person. Then another. A woman, half-awake, thinking about bread. Someone else worrying about being late before they’ve even opened their eyes. It stacks quickly. It always does. Colors splatter across the grey streets.

I wait until one gets close, eyes shut tight, breathing as steady as I can manage. Eye-contact helps, but it’s best to stay focused on one face at a time.

A man passes me. He’s thinking about all the pointless things he has to do this morning. None of them will matter by evening.

I hold the picture out, open my eyes, and focus on the singular face.

“Have you seen them?”

He looks, our eyes meet. The rest of the world becomes background noise, loud but unfocused. His thoughts flicker through confusion to dismissal. No recognition. He pauses in an attempt to seem polite. I already know before he shakes his head. He hasn’t seen them. “Thank you,” I say anyway.

I keep going. It’s like this for a while. Faces. Thoughts. No answers. At some point someone lies to me. Says they saw them the other day in the market. My heart races briefly with hope. But their thoughts are unsure, it could have been someone else. No, actually it was. They don’t say that part out loud.

I don’t call them out. It doesn’t matter. People lie without meaning to. I turn down a narrower street for a break. It’s quieter that way. Less crowded.

As I turn the corner I freeze. Someone is standing there. No color. No thought. They’re grey like a rock or some part of the scenery. That’s not right. I should hear something. Anything.

They turn and stare into my eyes. They blink once or twice, then turn away. Completely blank. The silence feels disorienting, the rest of the world feels like a raging storm of sound and color. But this person is just empty, motionless still space.

I frown. They start to walk away and my feet follow on their own. After a few paces they stop and turn around. Their body jolts slightly in surprise when they see me right behind.

“Can I help you?”

I raise the picture, automatically, but for a moment I can’t think of what to say. I’d probably be scolded for my rudeness if the person on the paper is really here. The drawing is not perfect, but it’s accurate. The neighboring animals recognize it right away. They know them better than anyone would. Some even know their name, Eun.

If I hear that name now, from this complete stranger, I wouldn’t be surprised. Not because I expect them to know it, but because their eyes widen at the picture. Widen in recognition.

They look at me, at the picture, back and forth for a moment with a jittery sort of nervousness or confusion. Without a thought, every little movement feels significant.

Maybe it’s because I have been trying to find any clue at all for so long. Maybe it’s because I am so disoriented by the absolute quiet where thoughts should be. Maybe I am a little too confident. But instead of my usual question I blurt out, “When did you see them?” Hardly a question you can answer with a yes or no.

“Nope. Never seen them.” Their eyes avert too sharply from the picture and from my gaze. Without looking back they turn away and begin to walk ahead. Swiftly. Unusually swiftly.

I stare, stunned, as they round the next corner out of sight. Nothing more said. Not a single thought.

Chapter 2 Mu

It is easier than I think, leaving the castle. The guards don’t notice a little lizard climbing along the walls. The gardener doesn’t notice when that lizard becomes one sparrow too many on the pruned branch. And if anyone is watching that sparrow take flight, it is hard to tell from so far down when its wingspan grows. That is the easy part.

In fact until now, it has all been smooth sailing. When you’re hungry, be small, eat leaves. When you’re tired, be big, sleep somewhere easy to defend. When you want to be anything else, just be. Be free.

I never think I will ever have to worry about being found or found out. I should have never wandered into this town.

For the most part there are enough strangers coming and going that it is easy to blend in. No kids allowed? No problem. I’ll look older. No money? Not for long, I’ll be stronger or prettier. I have it figured out.

Until today. Until she shows up.

Who does she work for? What does she want? Why is she somehow always able to find me? It’s too often to be coincidence. She’s just always somehow just behind. It doesn’t matter what I look like, and that’s strange. An old man turns a corner, and a young child runs down the next street, and a woman sits down on a bench. Careful not to be seen between forms. No one else is any the wiser.

And yet here she comes, again. Not even a moment to catch my breath.

She doesn’t seem like someone affiliated with the royal family. Why is she following me? I’d ask, but I’d rather not risk it.

I think I have enough energy to try one more thing. Her eyes are locked on me, but I stand and make my way toward the nearest alley. Hopefully empty.

Bad luck. It’s a dead end.

I take a deep breath and imagine being small. Something small that wouldn’t be out of the ordinary in a town.

With calm breaths I shrink, bones shift gently, and soft fur sprouts. My ears move upward, large and round on my tiny head.

Chapter 3

Sori steps into the alley. It’s narrower than she expects. The air is stale, quiet in a way that feels different from the rest of the town. Less noise. Less color. But there is that unmistakable absence. Silence.

Then she sees it. A mouse. Small. Still. Watching her. Colorless.

Sori stops a few steps away. Her eyes narrow slightly. She tilts her head, studying it. Her voice, when she speaks, is calm. Too calm.

“Nothing on your mind?”

The mouse doesn’t move. Sori takes a step closer.

“Not a thing?”

Still nothing. Her gaze sharpens.

“Not scared?”

A pause.

“Not hungry?”

Silence.

For a moment, the alley feels completely empty. Like the world has thinned down to just the two of them.

Then a low orange voice pierces the moment.

“I’m hungry.”

It comes from behind her.

Sori doesn’t turn right away, but the mouse has shifted its gaze past her.

A cat emerges from the corner of the alley, slow and confident, eyes locked on the mouse.

The cat’s thoughts are loud. Simple. Clear.

Food.

Sori glances at it briefly, then back at the mouse.

The strangeness of the silence hits differently now. Even the dumbest prey in the woods thinks of ways to survive in a crisis. Their desperation keeps young Sori awake at night.

She crouches slightly, lowering her flattened palm to the mouse’s level. Still nothing.

She doesn’t hear how Mu’s mind is racing.

Of all the things. Of all the times. A cat. Here. Now.

Change again? Too soon. The girl would see. Run past her?

Mu stares for a moment at the outstretched palm.

The cat takes a soft padded step forward, claws gently scraping the stone as they extend.

Mu makes a decision.

Chapter 4

Sori gets home after dark. The familiar echoes of the woodland neighbors are soothing after her day in town. Distant hunters are waking up. A nest nearby chatters with babies wondering when they will eat or when their mama will come back.

She is careful not to move her bag too much, keeping a tight grip to keep it closed. Without seeing the mouse it is hard to believe it is even there. Not a peep. Not even a squeak of a thought.

“I hope it’s still alive.”

She gently sets the bag down on the worn wooden table and struggles to light a candle with her other hand.

“Still alive.” A little voice whispers through the brown fabric. If she is not so fixated on it, Sori wouldn’t notice the voice over the thoughts of the forest.

“You can talk. Interesting.”

Mu fails to see how this is the interesting part of this exchange, but is too nervous to comment. They have been shoved into this bag and carried, despite Sori’s attempts, very roughly for some hour or so in the dark.

At times Mu can wedge a clawed toe between strands of the woven fabric and try to catch a glimpse outside the bag. But outside has become almost just as dark.

All Mu knows is that this person has stalked them, saved them from being eaten, and now keeps them trapped far from town. It doesn’t seem like a promising situation.

None of this occurs to Sori, who finally manages to strike a match with one hand.

Warm light fills the small space, pushing the shadows back just enough to reveal the wooden walls, the table, and the slightly lumpy shape of the bag.

Sori watches it. The bag watches back.

“You’re very quiet,” Sori says finally.

Mu’s tiny voice barely peeps out. “You could hear me better if you let me out.”

Sori considers this. “Are you going to try to run away?”

A long pause.

“No,” Mu squeaks.

Sori lifts the opening of the bag off the table, scoots the candle closer, and peeks inside. Beady little mouse eyes stare up at her.

“You’re not good at lying.”

Mu shifts awkwardly. “I mean it. I won’t run,” then adds dryly, “I’m too tired from evading a stalker all day.”

Sori smiles slightly. “Stalker?”

After a moment of thought she fully opens the bag, allowing Mu to step out onto the table.

For a moment she expects the mouse to bolt. Mu looks around the shabby little cabin. Even in the dark they can make out enough to see it’s a bare-bones living arrangement.

Sori watches closely.

Nothing.

No thoughts. No flicker. No noise.

The forest outside fades into something softer, distant. Like stepping out of a storm.

“Strange,” Sori murmurs. “How do you have no thoughts?”

“I do,” Mu snaps, offended.

“I can’t hear them.”

Mu blinks. Then they fold their arms and turn up their nose. “Good.”

Sori lets out a small breath that might be a laugh.

Her gaze drifts to the paper on the table. Her expression shifts into a subtle frown. She slides it toward the mouse.

“You recognized them.”

Mu snorts, a little too quickly. “No I didn’t.”

Sori raises an eyebrow.

Mu sighs and looks down at the picture properly this time. After a moment they turn back to Sori.

“Well, I don’t know them.”

Sori watches them, unmoving. That might be true. But it isn’t enough. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.

Mu shifts under the stare, visibly uncomfortable. Their eyes dart back and linger a moment too long on the picture. They have seen someone like that. At the castle.

Mu looks away.

“I really don’t know them,” they repeat, quieter this time.

Chapter 5 Mu

We talk deep into the night, exchanging questions and eventually names. Sori Jeom is looking for her parent, Eun Jeom. I can’t help her. And even if I could, I just don't care. Not my problem.

She asks me to stay. Makes me a mouse-sized bed from an old shirt. I wait until her breathing evens out. Once I’m sure she’s asleep, I leave. Obviously.

Climbing down the table is tough, but at least I don't have to worry about the door creaking. The gap underneath is big enough for me to slip under.

Once I’m outside, I breath a sigh of relief. Then I focus on my next form. I need to be fast, stay low, and disappear. I grow. Large pointy ears, bushy tail, nimble paws.

I make it to the stream before sunrise. I drink. I run. I don’t stop until the trees thin out.

By midday I’m a hawk. Napping on a high branch.

A twig snaps below, waking me up. When I look down, Sori is at the base of the tree looking up at me.

How?

It doesn't matter. I take flight.

This time I find a cliff face. Impossible for her to climb even if she could track me. I rest as much as I can, maybe a whole day. Wake up to an empty stomach. Become a deer. Forage a bit.

While taking a late afternoon sip at a stream, I get a strange feeling. Like a prickling of hairs on the back of my neck. Eyes. I look around. Up the stream someone is making their way towards me.

It’s Sori again. I’m more impressed than surprised.

I dive into the water and glide downstream. It’s efficient but I’m not a fan of water. There's always a bigger fish.

Sometimes I make it a few days. Sometimes merely hours. It doesn't matter. She always shows up. After weeks I’ve accepted the inevitable. But I keep going. It's not her that I’m trying to get away from, not really.

Eventually I smell salt in the air, and I’m filled with hope for the first time.

The plan is simple. Board a ship. Leave the mainland. Never come back.

Someday I’ll be living in a home built by my own hands on a deserted island somewhere and Sori will finally catch up. Then I’ll calmly turn to her and say, “Now we can talk.”

Chapter 6 Sori

The thing about forests is that no one likes things out of the ordinary. Everyone wants to be left alone. I don’t even have to ask about Mu. There’s a trail of flabbergasted forest folk screaming thoughts of terror every time they change forms.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy to catch up.

Mu moves fast. Faster than anything I’ve tracked before. Not just physically. Even without hearing their thoughts it's clear they make decisions spontaneously. The only constant is the disruption they leave behind.

A rabbit thinking about wings. A hawk thinking about teeth. A wolf freaked out by a smell left in its den.

I follow that.

It works pretty well, but I might have lost them completely this time.

Before I reach the edge of the port town, it’s already too much. At least at the towns near home people have routine. The same people, every day.

I have to change my approach.

I look for absence.

Gaps.

Places where something should be and isn’t.

It takes time. Long enough that I start to wonder if I’ve lost them for real this time.

Then I hear it. Not Mu. Something else.

“Jeom.”

My name. Eun’s name. The part passed down through bloodlines. The word cuts through everything. I turn to face it.

A woman with hair like seaweed leans against a post on the pier. Staring at me. For a moment, I think she might be Mu. A silence surrounds her. An absence of detectable thought.

She calls out to me cheerfully, “That’s you, right? You’re a Jeom.”

I don’t answer.

“I didn't know they still had kin on the mainland, but it's remarkable what we can find in the world.”

She smiles wide, confident she’s not mistaken, and extends a leather clad hand in greeting.

“Call me Agashi. You looking for passage to Baekdo?”

“Baekdo?”

“That’s the only other place I’ve seen a Jeom.”

I stare into her eyes, focusing. It’s not quite like Mu. There’s something there, it's just… fuzzy.

“Stop that.” She puts a hand on her temple, eyes squinting slightly, forehead furrowing. “Didn’t anyone teach you manners? People have a right to privacy, you know.”

I take a step back, slightly embarrassed.

She relaxes and forces a friendly grin.

“Better, but if we’re going to sail together you need to quiet that down. Who knows what you’d attract, and my ship isn't equipped for warfare.”

“Sail together?”

“Yes,” she replies confidently, “free of charge. Safe passage to Baekdo.”

Like crashing into an invisible wall, a wave of silence hits me. Disoriented, I barely recognize the shrill voice that follows.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU TOLD ME!”

I had forgotten to look for Mu.

Chapter 7

“THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU TOLD ME!”

Sori turns.

A seagull lands hard on a nearby post, feathers ruffling with agitation.

Agashi doesn’t even look surprised.

“I said, it’ll cost you. I was even gracious enough to let you work it off. Why do you care anyways? You were planning to hitch a free ride regardless.”

Mu freezes.

“…I was not—”

“Thought I wouldn’t notice a stowaway on my own ship?”

Mu recoils slightly, eyes widening. “You can hear my thoughts?”

Agashi lets out a short laugh.

“No,” she says. “You couldn’t be more obvious.”

She starts recounting with her fingers.

“Ducking behind a barrel as a human. Coming out as a seagull. A seagull,” she emphasizes, “the loudest birds around. Yet you’ve been silently staring exclusively at me and my ship for the past few hours.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

Sori watches silently, eyes flicking between them.

Agashi glances at her. “Friend of yours?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Mu says at the same time.

They both pause.

Mu squints at Sori. “Really? I thought we had something special.”

“You kept running away.”

“You kept following.”

Agashi claps once, delighted. “Fantastic. The more hands the better. You’ll need hands of course,” she eyes Mu’s feathered wings.

Mu groans.

Sori steps forward with new determination. “You said you saw a Jeom. At Baekdo?”

Agashi smiles widely, “See for yourself.”

Chapter 8 Agashi

A good captain is always aware of their inventory.

You know what you have. You know what you’ve lost. You maintain balance.

We topped up on the usual supplies at the last port, added to our collection of rarities, gaining two… possible liabilities.

I pause.

As for the crew, well rested, in good health.

Hara is where he always is, seated near the mast, staring out at the horizon. Motionless. Possibly sleeping.

Good.

If he starts moving without reason, we have a problem.

Balgan should be on deck. He’s yelling at a length of rope.

Correction—Balgan is yelling at the shapeshifter holding the rope.

“I said hold it steady!”

“I am holding it.”

“Steady, I said!”

“I am!”

The rope hangs obviously slack from their hands.

I watch for a moment. It’s amusing to see Balgan deal with a version of himself. He proved his usefulness on the first day. Mu, as they said they were called, still leaves a great deal to be desired.

“Pung,” I call to the navigator.

She doesn’t turn, staring ahead vigilantly. “Wind’s shifting east. We’ll lose speed by nightfall.”

“Storm?”

“Not yet.”

Good.

That leaves the other one.

I find Sori where I expect. She’s leaning over the side, clinging to the railing like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

She looks up when I approach. Pale. Sweating.

“Sorry,” she says immediately. “I’m not… very helpful… like this…”

I glance over the side.

“Everything has its uses,” I tell her. “Something down there is having a better morning because of you. Just keep it off my deck.”

She blinks at me.

I turn away. “Come. My cabin.”

Mu’s voice cuts across the deck. “Hey! What about me!”

I don’t look back.

“Balgan needs your help,” I say.

Behind me, Balgan sputters in protest. Pung shoots him a look. He folds instantly and returns to explaining rope to someone determined not to understand it.

My cabin is small, but it has what I need. Maps. Tools. Things that behave.

I gesture to a silk-upholstered chair. “Sit.”

Sori hesitates just inside the doorway, taking everything in. Then the ship shifts and she drops into the chair, eyes squeezed shut, breathing shallow. Fighting it.

“That won’t work,” I say.

Her brow furrows. Sweat beads along her temples.

“You feel everything at once,” I continue. “That’s the problem. Not the gift. You try to hold all of it, and it drags you under. Float or drown.”

“Float?” she asks weakly.

“Yes.”

I lean against the table, watching her carefully.

“Not just your stomach. Your mind. Pick one thing. Something that doesn’t change. The sound of the water.”

Her breathing stutters. Then slows. Just enough.

“Don’t analyze,” I say. “Listen. Let it pass through you. Float, don’t struggle.”

The ship creaks softly around us.

Outside, the wind shifts.

Something else shifts with it.

Subtle. But wrong.

As her breathing steadies, the pressure changes. Not gone. Redirected. Focused.

I frown.

That’s not better. That’s clearer.

The knock comes hard against the door.

“Captain!”

Pung doesn’t wait. The door opens.

“Storm on the horizon.”

Of course there is.

I glance back at Sori. Stabilized. Projecting. Worse.

I step past Pung. The wind catches the door and throws it against the wall. The sea stretches out ahead of us. Waiting.

I sigh.

“Well,” I say, “The rent is due.”

Chapter 9 Mu

Balgan is still yelling. “I said pull, not stare at it!” “I am pulling,” I say, bracing my feet and yanking the rope with everything I have. I don’t see how what I’m doing is any different from what he’s doing.

Balgan squints at the rope, then at me. “You changed your arms again, didn’t you?” “They’re stronger like this.” “They’re longer. That’s not the same thing.”

I huff and adjust my grip, trying to copy what he did earlier. Something about wrapping it around my wrist first. The rope slips. Again.

He glares at me. I glare back. The ship creaks under us, steady and predictable. The wind is mild. The sky is clear. Everything is fine.

I tug the rope again. Nothing happens.

Once more.

Something shifts.

It’s small at first. Not a sound. Not a movement. Just… a feeling.

Without warning, the sail above us snaps sharply, then goes slack.

Balgan pauses. “Did you do that?” “I don’t think so.”

We both look up.

The sky is still bright, but something about it feels… wrong. Too still. Too heavy.

The ship tilts slightly, not with the waves, but against them.

A quiet creak runs through the wood beneath our feet. I feel it in my teeth.

No one speaks.

Then I notice Hara. He’s always in the same spot, legs crossed, hands in his lap. Sometimes I wonder if he’s still alive. He’s that still.

But suddenly, softly, he places one hand on the deck beside him. Not grabbing. Not bracing. Just lightly touching.

That’s it.

The ship creaks louder.

Balgan and Pung stare in shock at Hara’s hand, then look at each other. Their faces drain of color.

Balgan drops the rope and scrambles for the nearest post, grabbing another line and yanking it tight. “Tie everything down!” he shouts.

I blink at him. “What? Why?” I look around at the calm blue sky. “Just do it!”

Pung is already moving. Not fast, but deliberate. She runs to the captain’s cabin. When she comes back she loops a rope around her waist and pulls it tight, anchoring herself to the rail.

Balgan grabs my arm. “Stay still—” “No,” Pung says.

It’s quiet. Firm.

Balgan freezes. He stares at Pung with a wide-eyed shock. Agashi emerges from her cabin, locks eyes with him, and nods gravely.

He lets go of my arm and rushes to secure Hara instead.

“What’s going on?”

The first flash comes without thunder. Not from above, from beneath the water.

The sky darkens and the wind picks up. The air feels heavier.

Sori stumbles out from the cabin. She looks healthier than before, but shaken. Her eyes are wide open now. Focused on something in the darkness. Something I can’t see.

“What is that?” she whispers in terrified awe.

Another flash. Brighter this time.

Sori recoils like she’s been struck. “No!” Her voice is small. Sharp.

I look around wildly. “No what?”

No one answers me.

Agashi stands at the helm, one hand resting lightly on the wheel. She isn’t tied down. She isn’t panicking.

She’s watching the storm.

Flash.

Sori shakes her head, backing up a step. “No, we— we didn’t—”

Flash. Flash.

Agashi exhales slowly. “We’re on schedule.”

My stomach drops. On schedule? For what?

The ship groans as a wave hits it sideways. Not a natural wave. Too sudden. Too strong.

I grab onto the nearest railing for support and fumble to tie a rope to myself. I’m relieved that it seems like I finally figured out how to do it. I turn to Balgan to see if he noticed.

He is busy knotting something with shaking hands. He doesn’t look at me.

Flash.

This time I see it longer.

A shape inside the storm. Not lightning. Not cloud. It’s like a mountain. But no mountain was there before.

My breath catches.

The wind howls suddenly, violent and sharp. The ship lurches. Water crashes over the side, soaking the deck.

I look frantically from one person to the other. Hara hasn’t moved. Balgan is holding on to the rail for dear life. Agashi and Sori are still staring into the storm, not looking anywhere else.

Pung looks back at me.

She looks me dead in the eyes. Not cold. Not cruel. Just… decided.

She moves slowly to reach for the other end of my rope.

I hear Sori scream. Agashi has grabbed her by the arm. Her grip tightens—just for a second too long—before she moves.

For a moment, everything slows.

The storm. The noise. The movement.

I just see Agashi’s face. And her eyes. There’s something there I don’t recognize. Not fear. Not quite. Something heavier.

Flash.

Sori is struggling against Agashi’s grip to no avail. “We didn’t agree to this!”

Agashi doesn’t move. She isn’t looking at Sori. She’s looking at the storm.

Flash. Everything goes white. The ship lurches, turning almost completely sideways.

I feel my rope catch—and then loosen. Pung pulls the knot loose.

For a moment I’m weightless. The deck is gone. The railing is gone. There’s nothing under me at all.

I’m falling.

I see Agashi release her grip on Sori. Weight shifting like a dance in slow motion. For a moment it’s like the two of us are floating in the air.

I brace for water, but I hit something else.

Hard. Solid. Smooth.

Scales.

Something shifts above me. A mouth. Vast. Opening.

Flash.

This time I shield my eyes instinctively. It’s so bright.

Then just as quickly, enormous claws close around me.

Everything goes dark.

Chapter 10

The claws open. Light spills in. Blinding.

Mu and Sori float, suspended in what feels like water. Mu holds their breath. Sori inhales deeply. It's like breathing in thick humid air, but cold.

Mu gasps, unable to hold their breath any longer. They look at Sori, bewildered.

“We’re not dead,” they say.

“At least not yet,” Sori replies with a weak smile.

Around them, the space opens.

Wide. Circular. An arena.

Tiered shapes rise in every direction, like a coliseum carved from coral and stone. Darkened figures fill the seats. Some are small, some enormous. The high contrast of the light shining on Mu and Sori makes them appear as barely more than shifting silhouettes and shadows.

They are not quiet, not to Sori.

A low hum vibrates through the space. Not quite voices. Not quite thoughts. Something in between. Something layered.

Mu turns slowly in place. Even without hearing it, they can feel it pulsing against their skin.

“Oh my god,” they whisper. “They're going to make us fight to the death.”

Sori doesn’t answer. She’s staring forward at the center of the arena. Mu follows her gaze.

It looks to Mu like a twisting tower. Stone? No. It glistens. Their eyes scan from the coiled bottom up the glistening structure towards a hazy shape at the top. It begins to move.

The humming swells. It vibrates through the air, through their bones—like standing inside a drum. A rhythm. Anticipation. The crowd grows louder.

Mu takes a step back. “Sori.”

It suddenly occurs to Mu that what they're looking at isn't some kind of building. It's alive. At the top, the behemoth mouth from before opens, light pouring out between the swordlike teeth.

The arena falls silent. The vibrations stop. Everything goes still.

Mu grabs Sori’s sleeve. “We need to go. Now.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” Sori says.

She doesn’t look at Mu. She can’t look away.

The dragon turns its head. Not toward the crowd. Toward them.

Mu freezes.

Sori inhales sharply.

The dragon opens its mouth. Light bursts from within. The arena responds, erupting with music. Not from instruments. From everywhere. From the walls, the water, the creatures themselves. A layered, impossible sound that fills the space without direction.

The dragon moves again. Slowly. Not attacking. Not advancing. Turning. Flowing. Moving with the music. Its massive body coils and arcs through the air above the water, each movement precise, controlled.

The crowd leans forward. Captivated.

“It’s… dancing?” They laugh once, disbelieving. They look around wildly at the crowd. “They just want us to watch?”

Sori finally speaks, voice thin with something between awe and horror.

“No.”

“No? Then what?” Mu’s voice cracks.

The dragon dips low, close enough now that the water around them moves with it. The light washes over Sori and Mu, illuminating them like they’re part of the stage.

Mu stiffens. Sori closes her eyes, listening.

The music softens. Shifts. Waits.

The entire arena seems to hold its breath.

Mu leans towards Sori slightly, whispering, “What are they waiting for?”

For a moment she allows her eyes to dart from the dragon to the crowd to Mu. Taking in everything.

Sori swallows.

“I think…”

The dragon’s gaze lingers.

“It’s our turn.”

Chapter 11

The arena waits.

No voice calls out. No rule is given. Everything is still, expectant.

Mu shifts first.

“Well,” they mutter, “this is bad.”

They step forward, then hesitate. Every shadow in the stands leans in slightly. Watching.

“Okay,” Mu says, louder now, forcing confidence into their voice. “Okay. Fine. I can do this. They want a show?”

They change.

A flash of feathers. Humongous wings burst from their back, scattering droplets of light. They leap, becoming a bird mid-motion, circling once overhead before landing again.

Nothing. The crowd doesn’t change. No reaction. No approval. Mu frowns.

“Not enough? Fine.”

They shift again. Larger this time. Antlers branch outward, hooves striking the arena floor. They gallop around, leap incredible heights. But it's nothing compared to the massive sea dragon.

Mu thinks of something that’s sure to impress anyone. Scales ripple across their skin. They become something strange, something of legend. A creature that doesn’t quite exist in any forest.

Still nothing.

They cycle faster. Bird. Beast. Something in between. All to no avail. The crowd and the dragon stare, unmoved.

Mu’s breath quickens.

“What do you want?” they snap, voice cracking slightly. “What am I supposed to do?”

The arena doesn’t answer.

Behind them, Sori hasn’t moved. She watches. Not the crowd. Not even Mu. The dragon.

Its massive eyes remain fixed on them, unblinking. Patient. Listening.

Sori closes her eyes.

Noise presses in at firs, the strange almost-thoughts of the spectators fill her mind. But she doesn’t reach for them. She lets them go. One by one. Like sinking beneath the surface of a storm.

Finally, there. Beneath it all. A single presence. An absence.

Sori inhales slowly. She doesn’t try to read it. She doesn’t try to understand it.

She just… accepts it.

Then, slowly, she reaches out. Not with her hands. With a thought.

It’s clumsy at first. Too loud. It scatters, dissolving before it reaches anything.

Sori winces, steadies herself.

Float, don’t struggle.

She exhales.

Tries again.

This time, she doesn’t push outward.

She narrows.

One thread.

One feeling.

Mu.

Her eyes open slightly.

Mu is still shifting, faster now, more frantic. Losing shape as quickly as they find it.

“Stop,” Sori says softly.

Mu doesn’t hear her.

Of course they don’t.

“Stop!” She yells this time. Her voice dissolves, never reaching Mu.

Sori focuses.

Not on the sound of her voice.

On the idea of it.

On Mu.

On the way they looked in the alley. On the silence that followed them. On the strange, impossible absence that somehow felt… full.

She reaches again.

This time something connects. Mu freezes mid-shift. The half-formed wings collapse. The scales recede. Their body stills, like a ripple suddenly flattening.

“Sori?” they say, confused.

Sori doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. She holds the connection, fragile as it is. And then she fills it.

With a memory. A feeling. Not images. Something deeper. Warmer.

It’s Eun. The way Sori remembers them. The weight of that absence. The quiet ache that never leaves.

Mu inhales sharply.

They understand.

Not everything.

But enough.

Slowly, deliberately, they change. Not into something bigger. Not into something more impressive. Into something specific.

The transformation is quieter than all the others. No flash. No spectacle. Just a careful reshaping, like fitting into something that already exists.

Sori’s breath catches, but she doesn’t break the connection. She leans into it. She lets everything she feels flow between them. Every question. Every memory. The pain. The longing.

For a moment, the arena disappears.

There is only one thought left.

“I miss you,” Sori whispers, tears forming.

The dragon moves.

Slowly, its massive form lowers. One enormous clawed hand rests on the arena floor beside them.

Mu stiffens. “Sori?”

Sori recognizes the gesture. One she made before to a little mouse in an alley. It feels like ages ago, and yet also like it just happened.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact with the dragon, Sori steps forward. She places her hand against the smooth, scaled surface. She climbs up, and looks at Mu.

Mu understands and joins her.

The moment both of them are on it, the hand lifts. Fast. The arena drops away beneath them. They soar upward towards the dragon’s mouth.

Mu grabs onto Sori instinctively.

Its mouth opens. Light spills out, blinding again. But the hand doesn’t stop there. It rises in another burst right next to the dragon’s eye.

Mu sees the two of them reflected against the glassy surface. Eun holding Sori. Like a mother holding her child.

Without meaning to, they shift briefly into a strange form. Something unlike they’ve ever been before. Seeing it, even for a moment, they wince and shift into a small human child.

Two children, holding onto each other. Unsure what will happen to them.

The hand keeps rising.

Up. Up. Up.

With a rush of cold air and crashing sound, they break through the ocean’s surface.

For a moment both children cough up water. They let go of each other. Then the palm beneath them retreats down into the depths of the sea. Leaving them floating next to a ship. Agashi’s ship.

Balgan rushes to look over the railing at them. His face contorts into something between a wail of agony and a scream of joy.

Agashi places a hand on his shoulder. She looks down at Sori and Mu.

“Pull them aboard.”

Balgan and Pung manage to toss them ropes and pull them onto the deck.

Agashi stands waiting, one hand on her hip, the other resting casually at her side as if she’s been expecting this exact outcome.

“Well,” she says brightly, “that went better than expected.”

Mu stares at her. Sori says nothing. Agashi’s smile widens slightly.

“Welcome back,” she adds, almost cheerfully. “You passed your audition. Congratulations.”

Mu screams, “You fed us to a sea monster!”

Agashi raises a finger in correction, “Offered. You were an offering to the ruler of the sea. It was only going to eat you if you were boring.”

She claps Mu on the back, “And you managed to secure a steady gig! Good job!”

Sori frowns, pulling Mu away from Agashi.

“What does that mean?”

Agashi shrugs, “Safe passage to Baekdo. You might as well learn now. Nothing worth having is free.”

She turns away to enter her cabin, done with the conversation. “Hara would be happy to explain everything once we get there. New students, Hara! Aren’t you happy?”

The old man sits motionless by the mast as he always has.

Chapter 12

The island appears slowly.

At first it is only a shape on the horizon, pale against the morning light. Then color bleeds into greens layered over stone, structures rising in soft, deliberate tiers. Not a city. Not quite a village. Something in between, shaped more by intention than by need.

The ship does not slow as it approaches. And yet, as they near the docks, the water around them stills.

Ropes drift lazily toward waiting posts before anyone throws them. Wood creaks as the ship settles into place as if guided by invisible hands.

Agashi steps forward first, already smiling.

“Home,” she announces lightly, as if nothing unusual has happened.

Balgan exhales in relief loud enough to be heard over the water. Poong says nothing. Hara does not move.

Planks are lowered. The dock meets them without a sound.

Waiting there is a man.

He looks like Hara.

Not similar. The same.

Mu does a double take and steps backwards to peek at the Hara still sitting motionless on the boat.

“Two Haras,” they whisper to Sori.

Sori doesn’t react. She’s struggling with a headache from the influx of thoughts.

“Ah, yes.” The second Hara turns to Sori.

From within his sleeve, he produces a simple necklace. A polished stone wrapped intricately in leather cord. It catches the light faintly. He offers it without ceremony.

“This will help.”

When Sori takes it, the moment her fingers close around the stone, the world shifts. The noise softens. The bustling sounds of the city now outweigh muffled whispers of thoughts.

Hara watches her for a moment, as if confirming something only he can see.

He stands upright, hands folded neatly behind his back, eyes alert and clear in a way the one on the ship never is.

“Welcome,” he declares formally. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

The man’s gaze passes over the crew, then settles on Sori and Mu. It lingers for only a moment before he smiles.

Agashi claps once.

“My work here’s done. Good job, crew. Now, excuse me. There’s a seat at the pub with my name on it.”

Balgan snorts. Poong watches as she disappears down the dock.

The second Hara gestures towards something like an ornate metal cart. The inside is lined with leather benches.

“Care for a tour?”

Poong turns and walks briskly her own way down the pier. Balgan rolls his eyes with a small smile, apparently used to getting ditched. He shrugs at Sori and Mu and climbs into the cart, plopping down on a leather seat.

Mu and Sori look at each other, and see no harm in joining him.

The second Hara boards last.

As he does, the cart begins to move at a leisurely pace.

Paths wind through structures that seem grown rather than built. Wood and stone and a luminous material interweave in quiet glowing patterns. Doors open before they are reached. Light drifts in soft orbs along the edges of walkways. Water moves uphill through narrow channels, feeding gardens that hum faintly with contained energy.

Nothing is idle. Nothing is chaotic. Everything seems to work in harmony.

As they pass, people glance up. But their gaze doesn’t linger. They simply acknowledge the presence of the cart and carry on.

That seems to be enough.

Mu’s eyes shine with wonder, darting from one miraculous thing to the next. Sori looks around, too, noting things now and then. Balgan seems unimpressed, but not from familiarity.

They pass a narrow building with its windows thrown open.

Inside, a cluttered worktable hums with activity. Small tools twitch and turn on their own. A pile of metal parts suddenly sparks, then emits a puff of bright, colored smoke.

A small creature—furred, quick—scrambles up from the mess, coughing.

At the same moment, someone reaches in from the window and pushes it wider.

A girl stands there, framed by the light behind her. She is very still compared to the frantic motion inside. Her hand rests lightly on the window frame. The contraption whirs loudly and collapses with a metallic clatter. The girl doesn’t react. She simply watches.

Hara clears his throat.

“Baekdo, above all, values learning. It is a place to better yourself. You could call it a meritocracy.”

“A what?” Balgan asks with a yawn.

Hara sits, ignoring his question. The cart pulls forward, resuming its course. Mu cranes to look back at the window as it disappears from view.

The air shifts as they move deeper into the island. Quieter. More contained.

They approach a large building set at the heart of the island. It is older than the rest. Not worn, but settled. As though it has remained while everything else formed around it.

The cart stops just outside, and Hara gestures for them to enter without him. He relaxes into a meditative posture similar to the Hara from Agashi’s ship.

As they enter the building, an older woman looks up from an enormous carved wooden desk.

Next to her stands, curiously, another man resembling Hara. He turns to the three children with a smile.

“Baek Jeom, here are Balgan, Mu, and Sori Jeom.”

The woman’s gaze rests on Sori.

“You carry it loudly,” she says.

Her tone is not judgmental. It’s quiet. Almost to herself.

She looks back to her work on the desk for a moment, as if finishing something up. Then she stands and approaches the children with her arms outstretched warmly.

“You’re all very welcome here.”

Her long, heavy velvet robe trails along the floor.

“Consider me something of an advisor. Or even an administrator. Should you have any troubles, I will do my best to address them.”

She turns to the Hara beside her desk. He gives her a short nod.

With that, she returns to her work abruptly.

The door behind them opens, signaling them to leave.

The children, having no reason to stay, return to the cart outside.

They are brought to a modest structure near the edge of the island. A small cottage.

“Sori. Mu. The two of you are welcome to stay here,” Hara says.

No question of preference. No discussion.

He gestures lightly toward the door.

“Everything you need will be provided.”

Balgan moves to follow, and Hara gently stops him.

“We must attend to the ship.”

Balgan waves an awkward goodbye to Sori and Mu as they slowly climb out of the cart.

The door of the cottage swings open, and the inside is illuminated with a warm glow. Inside is clean, cozy. Much more comfortable than the ship. And for Sori, possibly more lavish than anywhere she had been.

They wave one more time to Balgan and Hara as the cart wheels away.

After a moment of hesitation, they enter their new home together.

[To be Continued]

Lives I Could Have Lived

Irene Stone — Tue, 28 Jul 2026 12:41:37 GMT

I attempted to write some poems and short stories based on what I once believed were psychic visions of my past lives. Anyone is welcome to believe that's really what they are, but ultimately I've come to doubt it. It's still a nice thought, just not a belief.

Every chapter involves death in some way. Childhood trauma and a lifetime of mental health struggles led me to become obsessed with death, my own death specifically, and writing this gave me some relief. It may be confusing or nonsense to anyone but me, but I like rereading them, and I think they are fun pieces regardless of meaning or purpose.

I'm also so proud of the cover design, which I drew~

Irene Stone was a temporary alias as I fell out of love with my government name.

If you are interested in reading the first version, you can find it on Amazon (KDP).

-Ren

Game: 404 Lounge Demo

PsyRen — Tue, 28 Jul 2026 12:05:43 GMT

4 04 Lounge is a narrative game where you play a consciousness uploaded into a robot body with the sole task of running a shabby little relic of a bar floating in the vast emptiness of space. The idea is to use hints in dialogue and customer personalities to guess what kind of drink they would like.

The demo was completed after many months of drawing, writing, and learning how to use Twine. After getting feedback from several friends, I basically decided to start over from scratch. Now the alpha version is in development, but it's a slow work in progress.

More posts about solo game development and progress on 404 Lounge Alpha will be coming soon, but for now the demo is still available to play and it only takes about 10 minutes for a single run!

Disclaimer: AI assisted in teaching me how to code in TWINE, helping me debug, and write early drafts (now edited or scrapped), especially for Peter Goodman.

Play the demo [HERE]

-Ren

Cloud 9: Introduction

Lia Renee — Tue, 28 Jul 2026 12:00:45 GMT

I am debating turning this into a webnovel, rather than a webcomic. I illustrated 5 chapters and just got tired of it. But I have much of the story outlined or scripted and some day I'd love to share it.

-Ren

Design: Community Art

Ren — Tue, 28 Jul 2026 11:55:42 GMT

H e re are some throwback designs done for drag performers in Seoul! These logos feature my drawings and handwriting, and they were all done with Procreate. These days I usually draw in Procreate and finish designs with Canva or Photopea. I'd love to do more logo designs going forward, and I also really enjoy designing for merchandise (mostly shirts and stickers).

Over the 6 months or so I've also been drawing art for event posters. You can still find many of the finished designs on Instagram, shared by venues or performers. Here are some of my favorite drafts:

I have plans to start a collectible sticker line, so look forward to those popping up at shows in the area. Also keep an eye out for events featuring PsyRen! I perform several times a month, and I'm also trying to get more into event planning.

Also, for the nostalgia (also for the brag) here's another community throwback:

You may recognize this art if you've been to KYLDN Social Club before it became Uplift. This is my digital draft for the mural I painted on green wooden panels, which was on the wall at the bar where there is now a window (apparently it was there the whole time).

I can't wait to share more community work and art in the future!

-Ren

Children's Story: Gwee Shin

PsyRen — Tue, 28 Jul 2026 11:50:46 GMT

I n October 2019, I challenged myself to create a children's book. Each day I took a single word from an artist's prompt list as inspiration to write and illustrate a page. A t the time I was working at an after school academy in Seoul, South Korea, so I wanted to make a story with puns, references, and humor my students might appreciate.

The illustrations were done on bristol board with ink pens, scanned, cleaned up, and arranged into a pdf with Adobe Photoshop in 2021. I created the main font from my own handwriting, to give the book my touch while keeping consistent text style for legibility. I also used an OFL font for "Gwee Shin" on the cover page.

I t wa s a lot of fun, and I hope to collaborate on similar projects in the future.

[omitted a chapter about a hermit who had her ring and dropped it on the ground]