Ch 1:- The Parcel
The rain had been falling over Seoul since evening.
Heavy.
Relentless.
The kind of rain that blurred the city lights into watercolor paintings beyond the glass windows.
After another long interview and a schedule packed with endless conversations, Kim Namjoon finally stepped into his music studio.
Silence.
For the first time that day.
He loosened his tie and exhaled slowly.
His shoulders ached.
His head felt heavy.
A cup of black coffee sat untouched on the table beside him.
The room smelled faintly of wood, coffee, and old notebooks.
Home.
Or at least the closest thing to it.
Namjoon sank into his chair and absentmindedly pressed a few keys on the keyboard in front of him.
A soft melody filled the room.
A few scattered notes.
Nothing complete.
Just enough to quiet the noise inside his mind.
His gaze drifted toward the pile of gifts stacked neatly near the corner of his desk.
Albums.
Letters.
Packages.
Things sent by fans from all over the world.
A familiar sight.
Until one package caught his attention.
A plain brown parcel.
No decoration.
No logo.
No colorful wrapping paper.
Just bold handwriting across the front.
Only for Kim Namjoon.
Personal.
His eyebrows furrowed.
"Personal?"
He leaned forward.
Carefully picking it up.
The package felt surprisingly light.
Turning it over, he searched for the sender's name.
Nothing.
No address.
No clue.
No identity.
Just silence.
Inside the parcel was a navy-blue diary.
Its edges were slightly worn, as though it had traveled a long way before reaching him.
Tucked beneath the cover was a folded note.
Namjoon unfolded it.
The handwriting was neat.
Elegant.
Deliberate.
The kind of handwriting that belonged to someone patient.
Someone thoughtful.
His eyes moved across the words.
Dear Moon,
This is for you.
I kept it with me for years, but I think this is the right time to send it.
So you can finally know how you unknowingly saved my life.
For a moment, the room felt strangely quiet.
Namjoon read the note again.
Then once more.
His fingers tightened slightly around the paper.
Saved her life?
Who was she?
And why was she calling him Moon?
Before he could think further, a knock interrupted him.
"Sir?"
One of the staff members peeked through the door.
"Your cab is here."
Namjoon looked down at the diary.
Then at the note.
Then back at the diary.
A strange feeling settled in his chest.
Curiosity.
Confusion.
Something he couldn't quite name.
"Coming."
He slipped the diary into his bag.
For some reason, leaving it behind didn't feel right.
The entire ride home, the diary sat beside him.
Unopened.
Yet impossible to ignore.
Twice he reached for it.
Twice he pulled his hand back.
Reading someone's diary felt wrong.
Invasive.
Personal.
And yet...
The note lingered in his mind.
You unknowingly saved my life.
By the time he reached home, the rain had only grown heavier.
After a long shower, he changed into comfortable clothes and settled onto the couch.
Food arrived.
A few phone calls followed.
A glass of whisky sat on the coffee table.
Then another.
Soon the city outside disappeared beneath the darkness of the night.
His phone rested beside him.
The scrolling stopped.
The calls ended.
The silence returned.
And once again...
His eyes found the diary.
Namjoon sighed.
"Just the first page."
The diary felt surprisingly warm in his hands.
Slowly, he opened it.
The first page contained only a single sentence.
Written in dark blue ink.
Hello, Moon.
If you're reading this, then my diary finally found its way to you.
My name is Nitya.
And I want you to know my story.
My story.
Namjoon turned the page.
A smaller note had been written beneath.
And Moon...
I know how particular you are about your principles.
So don't hesitate.
You have my permission to read every page.
Just promise me one thing.
If you start reading...
Read until the end.
Namjoon's eyes remained fixed on the final sentence.
The rain continued outside.
The whisky sat forgotten on the table.
And for reasons he couldn't explain...
He turned the next page.
