Jay was dreaming again.
But this time, it wasn't the usual flashes of light or abstract noise. No, this was crystal clear—too clear.
A sterile white room. Machines beeping softly. A girl lying in bed, hooked up to wires, surrounded by the scent of flowers and old prayers.
She was the same girl from his sketch.
The same face.
Only now... she wasn't drawn. She was real.
He walked closer, heart pounding. "Is this... a memory?" he whispered.
Yumi, still in her astral form, turned slowly. Her translucent self hovered near the bed like a ghost clinging to what was lost.
Her eyes locked with his.
He saw her.
"Wait—you can see me?!" she gasped, backing up.
Jay's eyes widened. "Yumi...?"
Her name slipped from his lips again, soft as snowfall, but this time it wasn't a mistake. It was recognition. Like he'd always known her.
Yumi shook her head, stunned. "How do you know my name?"
Before he could answer, the world around them flickered like a broken film reel.
"No—wait! Don't go!" Yumi cried out, reaching for him, her fingers brushing his. A spark shot through them both like lightning.
---
Jay woke up violently, clutching his chest.
Sweat dripped from his brow. His hand was trembling.
"Bro," his manager called from the next room, "you good?"
Jay blinked. He glanced at the sketchpad on the table.
And saw something that hadn't been there before:
Her name.
Written in his own handwriting, across the bottom of the page.
Yumi.
He didn't remember writing it.
But it was there. Real.
---
Meanwhile, Suha sat beside Yumi's bed, scrolling through her phone when the monitor gave a soft beep.
Yumi's finger twitched again. This time, more deliberate.
Suha shot up. "Yumi? Hey—do it again! Move!"
A pause.
Then, another twitch.
Her body was trying. Fighting. Reaching.
---
Somewhere between dreams and reality, Jay whispered to the night,
"I'll find you. No matter where you are."
And for the first time, Yumi's lips parted in her coma—
And she smiled.
-----
Jay couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, her face appeared again.
He sat alone in the studio's lounge, the world outside still dark. One hand held his sketchpad, the other trembled over the keys of his phone. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. Her name? Her story? But "Yumi" was too common. No last name. No photo. Just the ache in his chest that refused to disappear.
Suddenly, a sharp knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Hyung," one of the stylists peeked in, "you forgot this in the waiting room." She handed him a small envelope.
He frowned. "I don't remember—"
"It had your name on it."
Jay opened it slowly.
Inside was a fan letter.
Written in delicate handwriting.
No sender name. Just one line:
> "Even if I'm asleep, I'm still listening. I believe music heals. Keep singing... Jay."
His heart froze.
That line—"Even if I'm asleep..."
It echoed what Yumi had said in the dream.
"No way," he breathed.
He flipped the letter over and noticed something in the corner.
A doodle. Of a black cat.
It looked exactly like the one from his dream—the one Yumi tried to save 10 years ago.
His hands shook. "This can't be coincidence."
---
Meanwhile, Suha stared at Yumi's hand, which had definitely moved this time.
"Yumi," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Was that really you?"
She rushed to the nurse, practically dragging her back.
"She moved. I swear she did!"
The nurse looked skeptical but checked the vitals. "Hmm... brainwaves are slightly more active than usual," she mumbled. "Let's monitor her closely."
Suha stayed by her side, holding her hand tight.
"You're waking up," she said. "I know you are. Just a little more, Yumi."
---
Somewhere else in the city, Jay stood under the night sky on the dorm balcony. The city lights glittered like static stars, but his eyes were focused inward.
A breeze tugged at his hoodie, but he didn't move.
"She's real," he whispered. "And I think I've met her... before."
He clutched the fan letter.
> I'll find you, even if I have to sing into the void until you answer back.
---
The hospital was quieter than usual that evening.
Suha had gone home, but not without leaving behind Yumi's favorite playlist on the small speaker beside her bed.
The soft hum of Jay's newest unreleased track filled the room. It hadn't dropped yet. But Suha, ever the fangirl with connections, got a preview from a music producer she met online.
The song pulsed low and slow—raw, aching vocals laced with longing.
> "I see you in the silence...
I hear you in the dark...
The world forgot your name,
but I can feel your heart..."
Yumi's astral form hovered near the window, drifting aimlessly. Her expression blank, lost in the same numb loop she'd been stuck in for nearly a decade. But when that voice filled the air, something shifted.
Her eyes widened.
"...Jay?" she whispered.
She turned, following the sound like it was pulling her by the soul.
> "You know me?" the question echoed in her mind, warped by the memory of that backstage moment.
Her ethereal form blinked. The music wasn't just sound—it was a beacon. And with every word, her connection to her body tugged, as if someone had started tying the string back together.
Her fingers twitched again—only this time, more clearly.
---
At the same moment, Jay stood in his private studio, earbuds in. He was re-listening to the final version of the track he'd written just last week. Something about it made his chest ache in ways he couldn't explain.
"Why does this feel like... I've sung it before?" he muttered.
The door creaked open and his manager peeked in.
"Yo, Jay, everything good?"
He blinked. "Yeah. Just... caught in a vibe."
The manager nodded. "That fan letter—you ever figure out who sent it?"
Jay held it up. "Nah. No name, no clue. But it feels like... someone's trying to tell me something."
---
Back in the hospital, the nurse checked the monitors, eyebrows knitting.
"Her EEG readings just spiked..." she murmured. "Something's changing."
Yumi hovered closer to her own body. Her translucent fingers reached out slowly, hesitating just above her sleeping form.
"Is it really time?" she whispered.
"Am I... really coming back?"
To be continued....💐