Long before the scenarios.
Long before the Star Stream.
There was a garden.
Persephone walked barefoot through soft grass that never died.
The air of the Underworld was not dark the way mortals imagined it. It was quiet, heavy with the scent of ancient soil and blooming flowers that only grew where death had passed.
White asphodel stretched across endless fields.
Black roses bloomed near the palace gates.
And in the center of it all—
Persephone knelt beside a small patch of earth.
Her fingers pressed gently into the soil.
A tiny green sprout pushed upward through the dark ground.
She smiled faintly.
Behind her, footsteps echoed softly across the stone.
"Another one?"
The voice was deep and calm.
Hades stood at the edge of the garden, dressed in dark robes that seemed to absorb the dim light of the Underworld. His crown rested loosely on his head, his gaze steady as always.
Persephone glanced over her shoulder.
"It grew faster than I expected."
Hades approached slowly.
Where he walked, the air grew colder.
But the flowers near Persephone continued to bloom.
He looked down at the sprout pushing through the soil.
"Life in a realm of death," he murmured.
"That has always been your talent."
Persephone brushed dirt from her hands.
"I like watching things grow."
Hades studied her quietly.
"You are bored."
It wasn't a question.
Persephone didn't deny it.
The Underworld had not changed in centuries.
Souls arrived.
Judgments were made.
Rivers flowed endlessly through dark caverns.
And the gods repeated the same stories they had always told.
War.
Jealousy.
Revenge.
Even immortality eventually became predictable.
Persephone looked up toward the ceiling of the cavernous sky above the Underworld.
Beyond it—
Other worlds existed.
Other stories.
Other endings.
"Have you ever wondered," she said softly, "if somewhere there are stories that do not repeat themselves?"
Hades folded his arms.
"There are countless realms."
"But most gods stay in their own."
"Yes."
Persephone stood slowly.
The garden around them shifted gently, flowers opening as if listening.
"I want to see one."
Hades raised an eyebrow.
"You want to leave."
"For a while."
The King of the Underworld said nothing.
He had ruled long enough to recognize curiosity when he saw it.
And Persephone's curiosity had always been dangerous.
"Where would you go?" he asked.
Persephone smiled slightly.
"I don't know yet."
The ground beneath her feet pulsed faintly.
Something had caught her attention.
A ripple.
Very distant.
Very strange.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment—
She listened.
And then she felt it.
A world overflowing with stories.
A place where gods watched mortals struggle like entertainment.
Where narratives were forced into existence.
Where endings were constantly rewritten.
Her eyes opened slowly.
"…Interesting."
Hades noticed the change in her expression.
"What did you find?"
"A story."
"And?"
Persephone looked upward again.
Her dark eyes gleamed with quiet fascination.
"It refuses to stay the same."
Hades was silent for a moment.
Then he sighed softly.
"That sounds troublesome."
"It sounds entertaining."
She stepped away from the garden.
The flowers leaned toward her as she passed.
"Persephone."
She paused.
Hades rarely spoke her name like that.
Carefully.
He studied her for a long moment.
"If you step into another world's story," he said quietly, "you may not be able to return the same."
Persephone's smile widened slightly.
"That's the point."
A faint crack of power echoed through the air.
The ground beneath her feet shimmered.
Reality itself bending slightly around her will.
Hades shook his head.
"You've already decided."
"Yes."
She took one step forward.
The air split open like a curtain.
Beyond it—
A ruined city.
A broken world.
A sky filled with watching constellations.
Persephone looked at the unfamiliar stars.
"…I think I'll like this one."
Hades spoke one final time.
"Try not to destroy the story completely."
Persephone laughed softly.
Then she stepped through the tear in reality.
The rift closed behind her.
The garden in the Underworld fell quiet again.
Hades looked down at the small sprout she had planted earlier.
It had already grown into a dark crimson flower.
He sighed.
"…That world is going to have problems."
Far away—
In a collapsing city called Seoul—
A rooftop garden began to grow.
And a story the gods could not control was about to begin. 🌑🌸📖