By the next morning, the story had already spread through campus faster than caffeine before exams.
Students whispered in clusters near the fountain, in hallways, and across the cafeteria.
"Did you hear about the pharmacy girl who stopped VEIL from leaving?" someone asked eagerly.
"She literally made Han Jae Hyun stay back!" another voice answered.
"Some people said she predicted an accident or something—super creepy."
"No, dude, I think she's his fan. Or like… stalking him secretly."
"Bro, others say she's their lucky charm. Imagine that!"
Haesol's cheeks flushed. Lucky charm? Stalker? Psychic? Apparently, she was everything but normal.
She clutched her books tighter, attempting to move past the chatter, but whispers followed her everywhere—hallways, library, and cafeteria alike.
Yura intercepted her at the lab, swatting away rumors like flies. "People are so nosy! One viral clip, and suddenly you're the lead in a K-drama."
Haesol exhaled slowly and slid into her seat. "It's fine. They'll move on once someone else does something weird."
Yet her calm voice betrayed the storm in her mind. Every time she thought about that night, the flash of headlights from her dream returned. The accident that hadn't happened—and hadn't needed to—was vivid, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
...
(Han Jae Hyun)
Back at the agency, Jae Hyun sat through the usual schedule: interviews, meetings, photoshoots. Yet his focus was elsewhere.
That girl. The one at the university. Her face lingered in his mind despite the noise, the cameras, the staff bustling around him.
"She looked terrified," he murmured to Ji On during a brief break. "Not like a fan. Like she already knew something was about to happen."
Ji On smirked. "Don't tell me the great Han Jae Hyun is falling for a random student."
Jae Hyun ignored the tease, scrolling through the endless clips online: "Pharmacy Student Saves VEIL?" "Who is the girl Jae Hyun smiled at?" Every title sounded like fiction. But the look in her eyes—the recognition, the fear—was unmistakable.
Even Seo Min glanced up from his notebook. "Maybe she was just nervous. Don't overthink it."
Jae Hyun nodded, but the feeling in his chest didn't fade. Something about her presence, her certainty in the moment, was impossible to ignore. She had altered reality, just by standing there.
....
(Haesol)
By the time Haesol arrived at the lab, Yura was leaning over her notes, smirking. "Apparently, VEIL's fanbase has declared you the Guardian Angel of the group."
Haesol groaned. "Great. Can I transfer to another planet?"
Yura laughed. "It's not all bad. Some are calling you lucky."
Lucky. If only they knew how unlucky those dreams had been.
Her phone buzzed incessantly at lunch—messages, DMs, notifications linking her to him. One article caught her eye: "Han Jae Hyun Smiles at Mystery Girl." The image captured him looking directly at her, warm eyes and soft smile, as if he remembered.
Haesol stared, frozen.
....
(Han Jae Hyun)
After the manager left for the evening, Jae Hyun pulled his hoodie closer and leaned against the window. Seoul's night lights shimmered in streaks across the glass.
"Hyung, you've been staring at nothing for ten minutes," Min Gyu said quietly.
"Just thinking," Jae Hyun murmured, voice low.
Min Gyu's gaze sharpened. "About that girl?"
He didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. There was something about her—the way she had shouted to stop, eyes wide as if she already knew the end of the story. She hadn't sought attention, yet she had left an impression that would not fade.
And somewhere deep down, he knew their paths had crossed before. Somehow, somewhere, he should remember.
...
( Haesol)
That night, Haesol fell asleep over her pharmacology notes. The dream had changed.
It no longer showed the near-accident.
Instead, it was quieter. Han Jae Hyun sat alone in dim stage light, shoulders slumped. He wasn't performing. He was vulnerable, unguarded, silent but heavy with emotion.
Though the dream contained no sound, Haesol felt the weight of his sorrow pressing in on her. Each heartbeat in the dream echoed in her chest, a subtle, aching resonance she could not ignore.
She woke abruptly, gasping, hands pressed to her temples. Another warning? Another fragment of memory? She didn't know.
All she knew was that his pain reverberated inside her, deeper than any prescription, beyond what any medicine could fix.
And she knew one truth: this connection was not accidental. Not ordinary.