The almond blossom didn't belong there.Yoorin stared at it, fingers hesitating just inches from the soft white petals, too perfect for early autumn. It wasn't crushed or dried like a flower pressed in a book—this one was alive. Fresh. Its stem still green. Its scent faintly sweet, like early spring rain.
And yet the windows were closed. The door locked. No one had entered the bookstore since yesterday.
"You're not supposed to exist here," she whispered.
She picked it up delicately, holding it like a secret. The bloom was cool in her hand—cooler than it should have been.
Back upstairs in her attic room, she placed it gently next to the moonlit book. The cover pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging its presence. The glow wasn't as strong as before, but it was still there—like a living heartbeat beneath the leather.
Yoorin sat, cross-legged, and stared at it for a long time.
Her thoughts spun: Was this magic? A haunting? A dream that had bled too far into reality?
"Seon," she murmured."Is this you?"
She opened the book.
For a moment—nothing.
Then the pages stirred. Just barely. Like a breath.
Silver letters began to stretch across the page, curling into form with that now-familiar shimmer. This time, the words came slowly, almost hesitantly.
"Time bends for those who remember."
"I left you the flower because it once belonged to your hair."
"You used to wear it on rainy days so I would know you were thinking of me."
Yoorin's heart twisted.
"No… that's not me," she whispered, though the words felt hollow."I don't remember that."
But her body betrayed her.
She did remember the feeling. Not the image. Not the details. But the weight of longing. The kind that built slowly over lifetimes. The ache in her ribs wasn't fear—it was recognition.
She flipped to the next page.
Nothing more.
"Please," she said softly. "Tell me more."
But the book closed itself with a soft sigh.
That was all she was allowed to know tonight.
She turned to the almond blossom again. It had already begun to wilt.
Its edges browned, curling inward like it had only lived long enough to deliver a message.
Yoorin placed it inside the book, between the glowing pages.
Let it be remembered.