The message had arrived at exactly 6:03 p.m.
Do-hee deliberately avoided opening the chat, ensuring the "read" receipt wouldn't betray her. It was a petty act of defiance, though Han Jin-woo likely didn't see it that way.
She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the surge of emotions threatening to spill over. She'd barely escaped Manager Park's tirade, only to face her boyfriend's harassment.
Naturally, the commute home—a time that should have been joyful—was anything but.
The moment she stepped out of the office, her phone buzzed with a sharp ding. The sender: Han Jin-woo.
[When are you coming?]
Do-hee's brow furrowed. From now on, his messages would hound her every minute until she replied.
[Where are you right now?]
[Still not off work?]
[Are you that busy?]
[Reply as soon as you see this.]
Buzz, buzz, ding, ding…
Her phone vibrated relentlessly, as if scolding her.
Do-hee switched it to silent. She wanted to turn it off altogether, but her insufferable boss's habit of contacting her after hours made that impossible.
"This is exhausting."
She couldn't pinpoint when her life had started spiraling like this. Maybe the problem was being born at all.
Was there even an exit to this suffocating maze?
She'd met Han Jin-woo at her previous job at an entertainment agency.
They'd crossed paths at a company dinner, where Han Jin-woo, a lawyer in the legal department, had tenderly comforted a heartbroken Do-hee. With his impressive build, handsome face, and kind demeanor, he seemed like a prince straight out of a fairy tale. Their colleagues marveled at their relationship, tinged with envy.
It wasn't until a trivial argument ended with a slap across her face that Do-hee realized her mistake.
At first, she brushed it off as an accident.
But then it happened again. Unable to control his anger, Han Jin-woo shoved her against a wall. The pain seared through her back and head, leaving her stunned.
"Are you insane? What are you trying to do? Are you an animal? I can't date a beast, so if this is how it's going to be, we're done."
When Do-hee confronted him, Han Jin-woo dropped to his knees, begging desperately.
"I'm sorry! I swear I'll never do it again! I'm a lunatic—no, a dog. If I do this again, call the police. Treat me like a criminal!"
His pleas were so pitiful that, in that moment, Do-hee's resolve wavered.
But as time passed, Han Jin-woo's true colors emerged.
His criticism of her grew harsher, escalating into verbal abuse and violence that crossed every line.
After showing up to work with a livid bruise on her forehead, Do-hee stopped responding to his messages or answering his calls. She thought that would make him back off.
She was gravely mistaken.
From then on, Han Jin-woo revealed his ugliest side.
She mustered the courage to report him to the police, but their response was lukewarm, treating it as a "lovers' spat."
Despairingly, Do-hee had no one to turn to—no close friends, no family.
The friend she'd trusted had betrayed her, and her family had all but disowned her years ago.
"How did I end up living like this?"
She felt hollow. At this point, she could only blame herself.
On her commute, Do-hee slumped into a subway seat, dozing fitfully.
Lately, she couldn't sleep deeply at night, managing only fleeting naps. The moment her head rested against something, exhaustion pulled her under.
The dreams of the child left her drained, yet they also offered a strange solace.
Watching the boy, now a teenager, had become her only escape.
Thankfully, the "child" appeared in her dream again. Dressed in a high school uniform, he'd grown remarkably.
His broad shoulders and long limbs gave him a mature air, even in his school attire. His pale, expressive eyes were deep and striking. He was no longer just a boy.
Though she knew it was a dream, Do-hee startled. For a fleeting moment, it felt like their eyes had met.
"…Cha Woo-rim?"
"…?"
"Woo-rim, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. I just felt like someone was watching me…"
The teenager rubbed his cheek sheepishly. His friend laughed, finding his reaction amusing.
"Come on, let's go! We'll be late for music class!"
Urged by his friend, the boy turned slowly.
Do-hee froze, her body rigid. That boy was Cha Woo-rim.
She knew him.
No—everyone knew Cha Woo-rim.
Perfect proportions, flawless looks, unparalleled acting—praise followed him like a shadow. Every project he starred in drew fervent cheers and adoration from the masses. He was a genius actor.
"All this time, I've been dreaming of Cha Woo-rim?"
A shiver ran through her, as if she'd been struck by lightning. To think the child she'd watched in her dreams was Cha Woo-rim—it was unbelievable.
"Why am I dreaming of him?"
"The next station is Cheongnyangni, Cheongnyangni Station. The doors…"
Stirred by the movement of passengers, Do-hee snapped out of her daze, blinking at her surroundings.
The uniformed Cha Woo-rim was gone, replaced by a subway car packed with weary commuters.
"Please mind the gap between the platform and the train…"
The announcement felt distant, like it was coming from another world. Do-hee rubbed her tired eyes and unlocked her phone.
Thankfully, no new messages from Han Jin-woo. When he was busy with work, her phone stayed mercifully silent for hours.
As she moved to lock her screen, something caught her eye.
An SNS ad banner featured Cha Woo-rim's face, promoting S Bank—a campaign reserved for Korea's top actors.
Her heart began to pound.
Do-hee had once worked at the same entertainment agency as Cha Woo-rim, albeit in a vastly different role.
She'd been a manager; he was the agency's star.
For a brief month, she'd even managed him.
Back then, Cha Woo-rim's schedule was so packed he barely had time to sleep, and she'd struggled to keep up.
How she'd admired and envied the untouchable aura he exuded.
If she hadn't given up her dream of acting, maybe she'd be standing closer to his world now.
Not on the same path, perhaps, but at least looking in a similar direction.
After that, Do-hee became an avid fan, devouring every movie and drama he starred in.
"Is that why I've been dreaming of him? Because I admired a star so much that I started dreaming of him?"
It sounded absurd, but it wasn't entirely implausible. Not something she'd brag about, though.
Pushed along by the crowd exiting the subway, Do-hee kept replaying the dream.
The image of a teenage Cha Woo-rim, standing calmly under bright summer sunlight, tugged at her heart. Younger and fresher than the present-day star, he'd seemed so radiant, so pure.
"Maybe I want to be Cha Woo-rim."
Some say dreams are a manifestation of unconscious desires. If so, perhaps she longed to embody Cha Woo-rim himself.
Do-hee turned her head, as if to shake off the melancholy spreading through her like murky paint.
That night, as expected, she dreamed again. The protagonist, unsurprisingly, was Cha Woo-rim.
The relentless passage of time in her dreams no longer surprised her.
He was about thirty now, wasn't he? The adult Cha Woo-rim had a more chiseled presence.
His broad shoulders and long limbs gave him a lean, masculine frame. His flawless skin and sharp features exuded a polished, urban sophistication.
"This is that Cha Woo-rim."
It was unmistakably the Cha Woo-rim from her time as his manager. She remembered him vividly.
At thirty, he radiated raw masculinity, yet there was something precarious, almost dangerous, about him. As if he were cloaked in sharp thorns, driven by some unseen force.
"Could I finally appear in this dream?"
A mix of anticipation and nerves made her swallow hard.