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“Come slowly.”
The voice—familiar and gentle—rang out. Though unseen, Sa-hee instinctively knew it belonged to someone she loved deeply.
Hurrying to meet an appointment, Ji-hyuk came to a stop at a red light just moments before reaching his destination. Tapping the steering wheel idly with his index finger as he waited, he suddenly sensed an eerie stillness settling around him. The crosswalk was empty, cars stood motionless, and even the birds perched on roadside trees seemed frozen in place like figures in a painting.
What was this strange feeling?
Then, without warning, a deep rumble shook the ground beneath him. Ahead, a three-story building began to collapse, crumbling into chaos. People scattered like ants, but they were quickly swallowed by the debris. Screams erupted, car alarms blared, and panic filled the air.
Ji-hyuk sat paralyzed, watching the scene unfold. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he stepped out of his car and walked toward the devastation. The closer he got, the louder the cacophony became—people running past him, cursing drivers speeding away. Yet none of it mattered. He quickened his pace until he broke into a run.
Someone important to me is inside.
Though their face wouldn’t come to mind, he was certain.
By the time he reached the site, breathless and desperate, others had already gathered, holding him back. They warned him it was too dangerous to approach. His chest tightened painfully, each heartbeat throbbing with unbearable anguish. Struggling against their grasp only made them hold tighter. Helpless, unable to do anything, Ji-hyuk could only gasp for air.
Gasping sharply, Ji-hyuk woke up. Still feeling his racing heart, he glanced around and realized he was back in his own apartment, recently renovated.
“...”
It was 4:30 a.m., still dark before dawn. Pushing aside the blanket, he noticed his body was drenched in cold sweat.
That dream again. Every other day—or sometimes every day for a week—it haunted him. Falling asleep after struggling with insomnia only led to this nightmare. Each night felt like torture.
Sitting up for a moment, Ji-hyuk ran his fingers through his damp hair and took a sip of water. Picking up his phone, he opened the messaging app and typed a message to Jun-young.
[See you in the morning.]
He tossed the phone carelessly onto the bed. Sleep wouldn’t come now. Rubbing his face dry with one hand, he began unbuttoning his pajamas. As he stripped down, his lean, muscular frame emerged under the dim lighting.
Moving efficiently, he entered the bathroom and stood under the showerhead. Turning the valve, lukewarm water cascaded over him. With his eyes closed, fragments of the dream replayed in his mind.
Who could it be? Who was this person his dream-self searched for so desperately?
The question lingered in Ji-hyuk’s thoughts for some time.
---
“No special schedule this morning, right?”
- “No, but you have a work report meeting at 11 a.m.”
“Plenty of time. Got it.”
- “Shall I assist?”
“No, it’s personal. Don’t worry about it.”
- “Understood.”
After ending the call with Sa-hee, Ji-hyuk parked his car. The underground parking lot was quiet, as expected early in the morning. Having arrived just in time for his appointment, he headed straight upstairs.
- “The doors are opening. Floor 7.”
Stepping off the elevator, Ji-hyuk found the waiting room already crowded with patients. He approached the desk for guidance.
“Oh, our esteemed chaebol patient has arrived. Welcome!”
“How amusing.”
Entering the consultation room, Jun-young looked up from his monitor and chuckled teasingly at Ji-hyuk.
Ji-hyuk had come to “Hoo Psychiatry Clinic,” where his friend Jun-young worked as a psychiatrist. For months now, plagued by nightmares and sleep disorders, Ji-hyuk had been visiting regularly.
“The same dream again. Every single time.”
“Nothing impactful in your unconscious mind? Not necessarily real-life events—movies, paintings, books, anything? The human brain isn’t always logical; it can mistake imagined scenarios for lived experiences.”
“Nothing. No collapses, accidents, or anything similar.”
“Hmm. Something must stand out if it keeps recurring.”
Jun-young tapped his pen thoughtfully against the desk, lips pursed in concentration.
“I can’t see their face.”
“What?”
“It feels like every joint in my body is breaking apart. I wonder what’s inside. Probably a person. Slowly coming toward me.”
“That makes sense. I’d guess the same.”
Ji-hyuk, usually stoic, furrowed his brow slightly and turned his gaze to the window. Memories of the dream brought fresh pain.
“The scenes progress further each time. At first, I’d wake when I saw the building. Then, during the tremors. Last time, the building collapsed.”
“Soon, you’ll discover what’s inside.”
“That’s what worries me. Do you understand?”
“Not sure.”
Turning back to Jun-young, Ji-hyuk’s face was etched with suffering.
“I feel like if I figure out what I’ve lost, I’ll completely fall apart. It’s terrifying.”
Jun-young was startled by Ji-hyuk’s admission of fear. The Ji-hyuk he knew never expressed fear or anxiety—he was bold, fearless by nature. That such a nightmare could shake him so deeply spoke volumes about the toll mental anguish could take.
“How’s falling asleep? Still difficult?”
“Still the same.”
“I’ll prescribe something for your insomnia. Take it diligently for now.”
Nodding, Ji-hyuk stood up. Jun-young waved goodbye.
“Wait!”
Just as Ji-hyuk opened the door to leave, Jun-young called out, stopping him. Ji-hyuk turned back.
“About Secretary Yoon.”
“What about her?”
“How’s Sa-hee doing lately?”
Fully turning around, Ji-hyuk raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased. While Jun-young was a great friend, his romantic interests were complicated enough that Ji-hyuk didn’t want to entertain them.
“Why are you asking?”
“Just curious. Can you give me her number before you go?”
“Don’t complicate things.”
“Hey! Hey! What’s wrong with just giving me her number? Wait! Shin Ji-hyuk!”
Clicking his tongue, Ji-hyuk left without another glance, ignoring Jun-young’s calls.
“Why does he have to act so scary?”
Left behind, Jun-young sighed in frustration.
---
Leaving the hospital, Ji-hyuk stopped at a red light. Leaning his arm on the window, he watched pedestrians crossing the street. Suddenly, a bird took flight from a nearby tree, soaring into the distance.
As Ji-hyuk followed its path, his gaze returned forward—but then froze.
“...”
Straightening abruptly, Ji-hyuk stared ahead. The building, the entire scene—it all felt eerily familiar. Déjà vu? No, it wasn’t just that. This was the exact setting from his dreams.
Finally recognizing it, Ji-hyuk gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Despite months of therapy, this was the first time he’d discovered the location from his dreams existed in reality. His heart pounded heavily.
Could an accident happen here in real life too? Tension gripped his throat.
Honk honk! A car behind him sounded its horn—the light had changed. Thankfully, no collapse occurred, nor any incident at all.
Frowning against the headache forming, Ji-hyuk drove off immediately.
---
The elevator carrying Ji-hyuk and Sa-hee was silent, devoid of conversation.
Throughout the meeting—and even now—Ji-hyuk couldn’t stop thinking about the déjà vu he’d experienced earlier. The space from his long-standing dream existed so close to reality. The more he reflected on it, the less ordinary it seemed.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Suddenly, Sa-hee’s phone vibrated. Checking it discreetly, she saw it was a message from one of the women who had met Ji-hyuk. Glancing nervously at him, she turned off the screen and held the phone tightly. She decided to reply later—but the messages kept coming.
“It’s fine. Check it.”
“Okay.”
Forcing a sheepish smile, Sa-hee quickly scanned the list of notifications—all related to Ji-hyuk. Turning off the screen again, she bit her lip, resolving to find a solution. This couldn’t continue; it was starting to interfere with work.
Ring ring. Ring.
Oh no, now the phone was ringing. No reply meant they’d resorted to calling.
“Answer it.”
“No.”
Sa-hee hurriedly pressed the button to silence the call. Just then, ding dong—the elevator arrived at the 36th floor, and the doors opened.
“Ah, there you are!”
Standing in the doorway was Na-yeon, smiling brightly with her phone pressed to her ear.
Wearing a snug, sleeveless dress with her hair tied up in a cool ponytail, Na-yeon led the way into Ji-hyuk’s office.
“Secretary Sa-hee, why didn’t you answer my call?”
“I was in the middle of work. My apologies.”
“Well, I guess it’s that time. Sorry, I didn’t think about your situation. But you saw the message I sent last night, right?”
Last night’s message? After a brief pause to recall, Sa-hee nodded slightly.
The previous evening, Sa-hee had received an invitation from Na-yeon to attend a photography exhibition. Though she and Na-yeon weren’t particularly close and she wasn’t the type to enjoy exhibitions, Na-yeon’s insistence left her no choice but to reluctantly accept.
“You should come too.”
Na-yeon hopped onto the sofa like a rabbit and addressed Ji-hyuk. He removed his jacket and hung it up, glancing back at her with his usual indifferent expression.
“To where?”
“My exhibition.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I want you to.”
“I’m busy.”
“Make time even if you’re busy.”
“No intention of doing so.”
“Ugh. Just you wait. If you don’t show up, I’ll throw a tantrum right here and refuse to leave.”
“Suit yourself.”
Na-yeon sprawled out on the sofa, glaring at Ji-hyuk. Unfazed, he seemed completely unaffected. After blinking her large eyes for a moment, she turned her gaze toward Sa-hee, clearly shifting her target.
“Sa-hee, help me out here.”
“What?”
“Try to persuade this prickly, ill-tempered boss of yours. Please?”
“Haha…”
As Sa-hee chuckled awkwardly, Na-yeon sat upright abruptly.
“I’m serious. You’re the only one who can handle his temper. I’ve heard all about it.”
Who could have said such a thing? Mortified, Sa-hee instinctively reached out as if to cover Na-yeon’s mouth.
“Um, Director Ji-hyuk.”
“Don’t say unnecessary things.”
“But I haven’t said anything yet.”
Ji-hyuk looked up from reviewing documents and fixed his deep, penetrating gaze on Sa-hee. His eyes seemed to challenge her—go ahead, see what happens.
Na-yeon glanced between the two, rolling her big eyes. When Sa-hee hesitated, Na-yeon poked her side insistently. Caught off guard, Sa-hee blurted out:
“I hope you’ll go together.”
“What?”
“Please… go, Director Ji-hyuk. Artists like Chloe Lemaing or Phoebe Sévigné wouldn’t have become globally beloved without early support from wealthy patrons. Your presence would mean a lot.”
Ji-hyuk placed his fountain pen firmly on the document folder and crossed his arms. Leaning back in his chair, he regarded Sa-hee thoughtfully.
“I haven’t seen Na-yeon’s work yet, but I’m sure they’re excellent pieces. Great works inevitably come from charming and talented artists. So, someone who appreciates art like you shouldn’t miss the chance to witness a future master’s beginnings.”
“…”
“If you wish, you could even sponsor her. That way, your name will be remembered alongside hers. ‘Shin Ji-hyuk, patron of world-renowned artist Jang Na-yeon.’ Something like that.”
After a moment of silence, Ji-hyuk smirked faintly and turned away.
“I didn’t know Secretary Yoon was so skilled at persuasion.”
“Well then…”
“We’ll go together.”
At those words, Na-yeon leaped up with a cheer. She then pulled Sa-hee into a tight hug.
“Thank you so much, Sa-hee!”
“No problem. I’m looking forward to the exhibition too.”
“That speech earlier really moved me.”
Releasing Sa-hee, Na-yeon grinned brightly, her large eyes sparkling like stars.
“For your sake, Sa-hee, I feel even more motivated to succeed now.”
The two women exchanged smiles, while Ji-hyuk observed them briefly before returning his attention to the documents in front of him.
---
Na-yeon’s exhibition was quite large for a solo show. The venue itself was one of the most prestigious art halls in the country, and the works varied widely in size, theme, and quantity.
After finishing work, Sa-hee accompanied Ji-hyuk to the exhibition hall and couldn’t help but marvel at its grand scale—it was by far the largest exhibition she’d ever seen.
“I’ll look around over here.”
With so many attendees, Na-yeon was swamped. Deciding to view the artworks first, Sa-hee excused herself, while Ji-hyuk went to greet Na-yeon’s parents.
So they knew each other personally. Given their long friendship, it made sense. Shaking off unnecessary thoughts, Sa-hee focused on the artworks, carefully examining each photograph.
“Hello there.”
“Eh? Is that you, Ji-hyuk? It’s been a while!”
“Oh my, Ji-hyuk! Look how much you’ve grown! Even handsomer than when we last saw you.”
As Ji-hyuk greeted them, Na-yeon’s parents welcomed him warmly, patting his back affectionately. Their genuine fondness for him was evident.
“We’ve read about you in the news. You’ve been doing exceptionally well.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve seen Na-yeon, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, maybe three or four years.”
“Ah, she’s always traveling abroad. If she stayed in the country, you two might meet more often. Don’t you agree?”
Na-yeon’s mother playfully squeezed Ji-hyuk’s arm. He smiled politely but refrained from responding. He didn’t want to lie; even if Na-yeon stayed in Korea, they wouldn’t necessarily meet more frequently.
“Hey! Shin Ji-hyuk! When did you get here?”
“A little while ago.”
“And Sa-hee?”
“She’s looking at the artworks first.”
Nodding, Na-yeon sidled up next to Ji-hyuk and handed him a glass of champagne. Though he accepted it, Ji-hyuk merely swirled the liquid without drinking.
“Na-yeon, why didn’t you tell us you were meeting Ji-hyuk again? We were surprised when we saw him earlier.”
“What’s the point? He’d be here anyway.”
“He was impressive even as a kid, but now he’s grown into such a refined man. You know what I mean? Take it as a compliment, Ji-hyuk.”
Ji-hyuk smiled faintly without replying. Watching him, Na-yeon took a sip of her champagne, unable to suppress her growing smile.
“This might sound sudden, but are you seeing anyone these days?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Ah, really?”
Na-yeon’s parents exchanged knowing smiles.
“Our Na-yeon is the same—no one special in her life either.”
“Though young people are marrying later these days, waiting too long isn’t ideal. If there’s someone suitable, they should give it a try, don’t you think?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Ji-hyuk, usually so impassive, was now smiling warmly, melting hearts with his polite demeanor. Watching him, Na-yeon found herself reaching for her champagne glass repeatedly.
“Our Na-yeon needs to meet a fine man like you.”
“That’s true.”
Na-yeon’s parents were openly promoting their daughter to Ji-hyuk, viewing him not just as a friend but as a potential match. Accustomed to such treatment, Ji-hyuk skillfully evaded any direct commitments with practiced ease. While her parents remained oblivious, Na-yeon had long noticed his cleverness. Perhaps that’s why—or perhaps it was the champagne talking.
“Ji-hyuk.”
Na-yeon called out to him.
“Yes?”
Turning to her with a gentle expression, Ji-hyuk met her gaze. Entranced, Na-yeon linked her arm through his. Her parents watched, slightly surprised.
“Ji-hyuk. Let’s get married.”
Na-yeon’s soft words froze the air around them, plunging the atmosphere into silence.
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