Chapter 2: His Name Echoes

Han Jiwon couldn’t focus the next morning.

Her alarm had blared three times before she finally dragged herself out of bed, her eyes ringed with exhaustion. The name lingered on her tongue as if it had been carved into her soul during the night.

Seo Minjae.

She had never heard it before, never met anyone by that name. Yet when her lips shaped the syllables, they felt achingly familiar. Like a song she had once known by heart, forgotten, and then suddenly remembered.

Her paint-stained fingers fumbled with her sketchbook as she sat at her desk. On the first page, she wrote it down in bold letters:

Seo Minjae.

She stared at it for several minutes, her chest tightening. The letters stared back at her, mocking and magnetic at once.

---

By the time she reached campus, her best friend Kim Sohee had already texted her half a dozen times.

SOHEE: Where r u??? Studio critique today!!!

SOHEE: Bring coffee or I’ll fail u myself

Jiwon quickened her pace, clutching two iced lattes as peace offerings. Sohee was already waiting outside the art building, her red-dyed hair pulled into a messy bun, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. She spotted Jiwon instantly, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance.

“You’re late,” Sohee said, snatching one of the lattes. “If Professor Kang kills me, I’m haunting you in the afterlife.”

Jiwon forced a laugh, but the words hit too close to home. Afterlife. The dream clawed at her thoughts again. She shook her head quickly and followed Sohee inside.

The studio smelled of turpentine and charcoal, easels scattered across the wide space. Students buzzed nervously, rearranging canvases, flipping through sketchbooks. Jiwon set up her painting—a half-finished piece of a girl standing before a river at night.

Sohee peeked at it and frowned. “You’ve been painting the same vibe for weeks. All sad eyes and dark water. Spill it. What’s going on?”

Jiwon hesitated. Should she tell her? She had never said a word about the recurring dream. Not even when she woke sobbing. Not even when she saw him in the café yesterday.

Instead, she shrugged. “Just… tired. I keep having weird dreams.”

Sohee raised a brow. “Weird like what? Flying pigs? Zombies? Or”—she smirked—“dreams about hot guys?”

Jiwon nearly choked on her coffee.

Sohee laughed, nudging her shoulder. “Called it. Who’s the mystery man? Spill.”

“It’s not—” Jiwon faltered, her gaze drifting to the window. Her heart gave a sharp, unsteady beat. “It’s complicated.”

Sohee tilted her head, unconvinced, but Professor Kang clapped his hands, signaling the critique session. The conversation was cut short, but the question lingered like smoke.

---

By the afternoon, Jiwon’s nerves were frayed. The critique had gone poorly—Professor Kang claimed her work lacked “focus of intent.” The words stung because he wasn’t wrong. She was distracted, haunted, painting ghosts instead of subjects.

Sohee offered to buy her dinner after class, but Jiwon declined. She needed air, quiet, something to clear her head.

She ended up back at the campus café, the sketchbook opened once more. Her pencil betrayed her again, sketching his face without her permission. The sharp slope of his nose. The curve of his mouth. The sorrow in his eyes.

Seo Minjae.

“Are you stalking me now?”

The voice sent her pencil skittering across the page. Her head shot up, and there he was—standing by her table again, guitar case on his back, hoodie pulled low.

Jiwon’s stomach dropped. Her mouth opened but no words came.

He gestured to the empty seat. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head quickly. He slid into the chair across from her, setting down his coffee. For a long moment, neither spoke. The tension between them was palpable, thick like invisible threads tangled in the air.

Finally, he broke the silence. “You keep staring at me. Is there a reason?”

Her face burned. “I—I wasn’t—”

His lips quirked in a small smile, though his eyes remained serious. “It’s fine. You just… look familiar. That’s all.”

Her heart lurched.

Familiar. The same word that had been gnawing at her since the dream began.

Before she could reply, Sohee appeared, holding two bags of takeout. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. “Jiwon-ah! Who’s this?”

Jiwon fumbled. “Uh—just… someone I met. At the café.”

Sohee grinned knowingly, sliding into the seat beside her. “Someone, huh? Handsome someone.”

Minjae coughed lightly, looking away. His ears turned slightly red beneath his dark hair.

Jiwon wished she could vanish.

Sohee, oblivious, extended a hand. “I’m Kim Sohee. Jiwon’s best friend and personal bodyguard since elementary school.”

He hesitated, then shook her hand. “Seo Minjae.”

The sound of his name spoken aloud nearly unraveled Jiwon. Her grip tightened on her pencil until the wood threatened to snap.

Sohee whistled. “Even your name sounds like it belongs to a K-drama lead. Are you a musician or something?”

Minjae chuckled softly, tapping the guitar case at his side. “Something like that.”

The conversation drifted, but Jiwon barely registered it. Her mind spun. The dream. The courtyard. His voice is calling her name. And now here he was, introducing himself with the exact name she had heard only hours ago in her sleep.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

It felt like fate.

---

Later that evening, after Sohee had left and Minjae had said his polite goodbyes, Jiwon lingered in the café alone. She stared at her sketchbook, at the word written in bold letters: Seo Minjae.

Her hands trembled. She flipped the page, sketching the palace courtyard from memory. Lanterns glowing, soldiers shouting, her white hanbok stained with blood. And him—always him—clutching her as she died.

The doorbell chimed as someone entered the café, but she didn’t look up. She was lost in her sketch, lost in the past that didn’t belong to her.

When she finally glanced up, her blood ran cold.

Eun Haejin stood outside the glass window.

At least, that was the name her dream whispered when she saw the woman’s face. A stranger, pale and elegant, eyes burning with something sharp and possessive. She stared directly at Jiwon, lips curved in a smile that was not kind.

And then—just like that—the woman was gone.

Vanished into the night.

Jiwon’s pencil dropped to the table. Her pulse roared in her ears.

For the first time, she realized the dreams weren’t just dreams. Someone—something—was watching her.

And Seo Minjae was at the center of it all.

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