The Two Doors of The Pied Piper

(A/N: This story is a continuation [Part II] of the previous story, “Escape?” Part II came to mind while listening to BTS after a very long time, so why not pen it down here? Hope you enjoy it!)

Follow the sound of the pipe, follow this song…. I'm here to save you, I'm here to ruin you

-BTS, Pied Piper (English Translation)

………...............

There was a beautiful Moon on the dark blue sky, like a silver platter shining across the green lands. The stars were like freckles on the moonlit sky, like sprinkles of dust on the splashing water on the sandy bank of the river, which snaked across the lush green acres of land with swift lightning speed.

The Pied Piper played his flute. The tune was as smooth as the silk robe that clad his tiny figure. His long finger played across the holes on the long flute like strokes of a dancer’s feet. His eyes were closed, as if in deep slumber. The nightly winds blew quietly across his black-silver hair. He looked like a young man, but yet looked very old. He had no wrinkles on his smooth porcelain skin, but had streaks of silver hair spread across his lush ebony black hair. The silver streaks rather hinted at his maturity, not his age.

 The soft, sweet tune of the flute floated across the still night. It was beautiful, but horrendous. It was calming, but agitating. It was joyful, yet heart-wrenching. It clouded the listener’s mind, numbing their limbs. The listener would always recognize the tune. Yet, the listener would walk towards the tune, like Icarus flying towards the Sun. 

The Pied Piper kept on playing his flute. There was rustling of leaves in the cold night, to which the Pied Piper’s ears perked up. He smiled while his thin pink lips were still pinned to the silver flute.

His prey had arrived.

A figure emerged gradually across the lush green foliage. It was a petite figure, shrouded by mist. The figure walked calmly towards the Pied Piper. The steps on the dew-kissed grass were nothing but quiet thuds against the powerful, mystical music that the instrument sang. The spirit got bigger as it approached the Pied Piper. The eyes of the human-shaped figure were closed as in sleep, but the lips were pale white like a dead ghost. The figure stopped once it reached beneath the tree where the Pied Piper was sitting. 

The music stopped. There were no sounds, except the swiftly flowing river near them which

applauding the music session. The silver-haired man jumped down to the ground, with swiftness and calmness of a black cat. He stood straight in front of the figure, piercing it with his unwavering gaze. 

“You know what you have to do,” his voice was deep and smooth, like the depths of the vast ocean. 

“I don’t want to,” the figure whispered, barely audible.

“It’s not like you have a choice,” his silky voice laced with venom, “you cannot defy me.”

“But…..murder?” the other person’s voice squeaked a little, “My lord, there must be other ways to deal with them- with him. No need to get blood on our hands, Master….”

“Do as I say. If you ever want to get over your trance, do it,” he sounded octaves lower, his anger simmering on the edge.

“But killing? Sire…. Please be merciful…. I don’t want to be the General” the black figure begged, “I can’t lead them to death…”

“It’s down to this now, then,” the man smirked, “whose life do you want to sustain- his,” he pointed his flute at the mountains, “or yours?” He pointed it at the crouching person.

The spirit seemed to consider its options. It did not want to kill anyone…. Especially not him, not them. In fact, not anyone. However, this is the spirit’s only salvation, the only way to escape its tormented life back at its abode. It wanted to escape and flee to this world. The world of the Pied Piper. However, the blood of another character was too expensive for paying this Charon with silky silver hair.

Or is it? 

Or is it not?

It was like standing in front of two doors- one with a dark, cool opening, the other with red sunshine colored like blood. The Pied Piper smirked at the ebony-dark shadow crouched before him. He, like his flute, could distort any decision his prey made.

However, he could not do it this time. He could not enter into the spirit's mind.

The figure, though brimming with indecision, looked at the Pied Piper’s frustrated eyes.

“It’s………..”

………………..

You are deeply mesmerized by everything around you: the almond-colored tents, the clinks of metals, the petrichor mixed with the rusting iron, the people moving like perfect clockwork…..

Everything in the Camp is perfect in your eyes. In fact, so perfect that you are completely oblivious to the lean, blonde man who is leading you through the throngs of warriors. He strides past the maze of restless soldiers and camps, paying no heed to the world around you and him. His brows are furrowed in worry, and he seemed to be lost in thoughts even as he swiftly glided across the war-ridden place.

“General, we’re here,” Saemin’s voice brings you to your senses. You find yourself standing in front of yet another tent “God, why are there so many tents here?” you whisper to yourself. Nonetheless, you are quite impressed by its grandeur. This tent is larger than the rest, with shades of almond and copper on its leathery surface due to the setting Sun above. The entrance is shielded by a yellow silk curtain embroidered with tiny red designs. On top of the tent is the famous triangular flag.

“General?” Saemin calls you again, confusion clearly visible on his face.

Oh yes. Right. Of course. I’m the head here. You mentally facepalm yourself. This is my chamber. Yay!  You smile inwardly.

“Hmm? Oh yeah,” you reply to the man standing beside you, who then runs his hair across his golden silky locks. You knew it was always Saemin’s habit to swish his hand across his soft hair every now and then. This reminds you one important detail: how did you enter a fictional world in the first place?

All the thoughts which were previously concentrated in the back of your mind now begin to diffuse and cloud your mind. Why are you here? What are you doing here? How did you end up coming inside a book? And the most important question….are you sleeping?

Nope. I could read the banners around here… You observed the camp around you. You’re not supposed to be able to read when you’re dreaming, right?

“You’re making me anxious, General. Are you alright?” Saemin looks at you with creases on his milk-white forehead. 

“I am. I guess I’m a bit dizzy, Gen… Wait, you’re not the General…” Realization hits you hard on your rib cage.

The story has been altered. According to the original plot, Saemin was supposed to be the General of the Camp. Jasha and Monstra were the Prime Minister and the King of the kingdom. You are not supposed to be the General.

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock,” the thin man mocks you, “I am not the General. YOU are. I am here as your assistant- more like the second man-in-charge,” Saemin explains while chuckling, “I think you prolly had hit yourself pretty hard on the head.”

You swirl and get lost in your own cyclone of thoughts and confusions. Why, you- a not-so-extraordinary being from a planet called Earth, are in a novel? 

What happens now?

…………………..

There was a silver moon on the ebony black sky, and there was no sound. Except for the flute of the smiling Pied Piper, which rang over the valleys. The tune was laced with blood and venom. 

Follow the sound of the pipe, follow this song

It's a bit dangerous but I'm so sweet

I'm here to save you, I'm here to ruin you.