Ji-Hwan was curious, but not curious enough to get involved in someone else's problems.
He shoved his cracked phone deeper into his pocket as he walked outside, not ready to deal with whatever message waited on the screen.
I hope your dreams didn't get crushed too, he thought as the door of his old company clicked shut behind him.
Outside, the afternoon felt colder than he remembered.
"Well… what now?" he murmured, attempting a joking tone, but something bruised lay beneath it.
He let out a slow breath.
"I'll go see Grandpa. He always knows what to say."
His exhaustion wasn't the kind that sleep could fix. It felt as though something inside him had been hollowed out.
He raised a hand to wave down a taxi, though the gesture looked more like the limp motion of a hitchhiker who had given up halfway through.
The first taxi sped past without even slowing.
(This driver begins to slow—something nearly stops him—but an unseen force urges him forward.)
"Great," Ji-Hwan muttered. "Lose my job and now even taxis want nothing to do with me?"
He gave a short, humorless chuckle.
He waved again—this time with more intention.
At first, the second taxi looked like it would pass as well.
Then, with a violent screech that cut through the air, it slammed to a stop right in front of him.
Ji-Hwan staggered back, heart jumping.
The window rolled down slowly."Hey…"
The man behind the wheel wore a full face mask. His voice dragged—slow, hollow, unsettling.
"I said hey."
The sudden sharpness in his tone made Ji-Hwan flinch.
"Y-yes?" he whispered.
The man was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his words were almost a murmur.
"Heading to the memorial hall?"
Ji-Hwan froze. Sweat pooled in his palms.
"H-how… how did you know?"
"Don't worry about it," the man replied. "I know a little about you. I've seen you around. You go there a lot."
He jerked his head toward the empty seat.
"Get in. I'll take you."
Relief pushed back the fear just enough for Ji-Hwan to move.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
The ride that followed was suffocating. No radio, no AC—just breathing. His and the driver's.
When will this end?
I'll just close my eyes. Better than staring at this terrifying man.
He drifted off.
"We're here."
The voice jolted him awake.
"H-how much do I owe you?" Ji-Hwan asked, still half-asleep.
"Don't worry about it, kid. Ride's on me."
The tone was completely different—gentler, almost warm.
Is this the same man? Did someone else take over while I was asleep?
Too tired to question it, Ji-Hwan grabbed his bag and stepped out.
"Thank you."
"No problem," the man said with a soft smile. "Kindness will come back to me one day."
Then he pulled away.
Ji-Hwan approached the entrance of the memorial hall with a heaviness in his chest.
After the strange encounter earlier, he felt wrung out — drained enough that he doubted anything could still surprise him.
The door swung open.
Whoosh—
A man lurched out into the open air, practically launched from inside. His limbs thrashed like someone tossed into the deep end without knowing how to swim.
The thick smell of soju hit Ji-Hwan hard, stinging his nose. It was so strong he almost felt his eyes water.
"I tried to warn him…" the man slurred.
A hiccup cut through his words, followed by an uneven breath.
"Dreams aren't always what they seem…"
Burp.
"People love talking about dreams… but nobody ever talks about the nightmares."
His syllables tangled together, half-swallowed by exhaustion and alcohol.
Then, suddenly—
"I shouldn't have let him go…"
His voice cracked, and he collapsed into shaking sobs.
Not the loud, dramatic kind—
but the small, broken cries of someone who had carried grief far too long.
Ji-Hwan froze.
Something about the man's sorrow hit deeper than it should've.
He didn't know him, but the pain felt… familiar.
Like an echo from somewhere in his own chest.
"Everyone's having a rough day today, huh…" he thought.
He hesitated.
A small instinct whispered:
Should I stay? Talk to him?
But another, stronger feeling tugged him away—
the memory of getting too wrapped up in other people's messes.
He decided not to repeat that mistake.
Stepping carefully around the crying man, Ji-Hwan entered the memorial.
Inside, the LED lights flickered—not randomly, but in a slow rhythm, like they were breathing.
Flick… flick…
The wallpaper had once been white, but time had turned it into a dull butter-yellow. The lobby felt as empty and cold as always, the kind of cold that didn't belong to temperature but to years of grief settling into the walls.
At the front desk, a familiar voice called out:
"Back to see gramps again?"
Ji-Hwan turned. "Oh — hey." He managed a tired laugh.
"Yeah…wanted to sit with him for a while. Today's been a lot."
His cousin grinned.
"You're telling me. I came to show the old man my new hair."
He flicked a strand dramatically.
Ji-Hwan cracked a genuine smile.
"He'd have laughed at that."
They shared a soft moment — rare, but grounding.
"Well I wish I could stay," his cousin added, glancing at his phone, "but I gotta run. Hope your day gets better."
He took a few steps toward the exit then paused.
"Oh — do you remember that story Gramps used to read to us? The one from when I'd sleep over?"
Ji-Hwan's mind blanked.
Not empty — wiped.
Like someone had gone into his memories and plucked out a single thread.
"What story?" he thought, panic flickering in his stomach.
He forced a confused smile.
"Uh…refresh my memory later?"
"Yeah, sure. Later."
His cousin waved and disappeared outside.
Once alone, he walked quietly to his grandfather's resting place.
As soon as he saw the name, the emotions he'd been holding back all day threatened to spill over.
He spoke softly, telling Gramps everything — the bizarre dream, the unnerving car ride, the feeling that the world was shifting slightly off its axis.
Finally, he asked,
"Hey… I know this is kind of random but what was that story you used to tell me and — when he'd stay over?"
A rustle of movement behind him.
"Excuse me… Mr. Ji-Hwan?"
He turned sharply.
A thin man stood there, fragile like a shadow stretched too far.
His cheeks hollowed inward; his eyes looked too large for his face.
"Yes? That's me."
"Um.. who are you?"
The man clasped his hands politely.
"Ah me?"
"I'm the one who sent the message earlier. I hoped to hear your answer."
"My answer?"
"Yes. I was eager. And then I saw you here, and it felt…right. That I should come ask."
The man's voice was delicate—almost apologetic.
It would've been comforting if something beneath it didn't feel so wrong.
"Well… I haven't decided. Could you let me finish up first?"
A flicker — irritation cutting across the man's features.
Gone in less than a heartbeat.
"Of course," he whispered. "I'll wait."
"For you i'd wait forever"
Or
"For you i'll gladly wait"
(Ji-Hwan didn't hear this it's here to make the audience interested and build suspense)
He drifted away quietly, almost soundlessly.
Ji-Hwan stared after him.
Something squeezed in his chest.
"Can't I just breathe today…" he muttered.
Then a memory rippled through him — sudden and warm, like someone lighting a candle inside his chest.
"You deserve to dream."
His grandfather's voice.
His eyes stung. He touched his cheek and felt wetness.
"Why am I crying…?"
The weight in his chest grew heavier, and yet—
comforting.
"Fine," he said to himself. "I'll listen."
He found the man in the lobby.
"Hey. I…think I want to dream again. I'll accept your offer."
The man smiled.
A slow, stretching smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Wonderful," he murmured.
"I'm glad to have you on board."
(The phrasing here is important because I want the antagonist to be the one who hand picked Ji-Hwan and the others around him can't understand his reasoning for a while.)
The memorial hummed.
Lights dimmed in unison, like a breath being drawn.
The air shifted — colder, attentive.
Something unseen moved.
Watching.
Waiting.
The hallway shadows stretched toward Ji-Hwan, long and distorted, reaching like hands eager to pull him deeper.