It felt real each and any time it happened; the pain and anguish. His warm tears, which pressed down on her cheeks along with hers and his heavy eyes swallowed up in guilt; even the warm blood underneath her covers where their hands pressed down on was vivid.
The first time Yoon Ha-rin dreamed of dying, she woke up crying. She abruptly sat up in her narrow bed; her chest rose and fell rapidly as if she had been running for miles. Her small apartment fell silent except for the faint humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
Her hand instinctively pressed against her heart and there, it kept pounding again and again. It was the same dream, the same man and even the same moon.
Ha-rin rubbed her face as she tried all she could to calm herself. The clock on her nightstand glowed faintly in the dark. 2:37 a.m., it read.
"Seriously… not again," she muttered under her breath.
For three months now, the dream had kept recurring again and again nonstop. Always the same scene with the same feeling of unbearable sadness that clung to her long after she woke up.
All fragile, she wearily swung her legs over the bed and managed her way down to the window. There, Seoul stretched endlessly before her— with quiet streets, glowing neon signs, and distant buildings standing like silent giants against the night sky.
And above them all…The moon stood, round, bright and watching. As if gazing through her heart and the moment Ha-rin looked at it; a strange ache twisted inside her chest.
Why did it feel so familiar? She thought. Her arms wrapped around herself, nervous. "I must be overworking," she murmured. That had to be it.
Between job applications, freelance design work, and helping her aunt at the café, sleep had become a luxury for her. And DREAMS?
Dreams were just dreams, nothing more nothing less, right? But yet still, she couldn't stop herself from thinking, the images still lingered in her mind.
A palace courtyard, with stone lanterns glowing softly across. The scent of night flowers gently drifted through the air. And in the mist of it all stood a mystery silhouette, a man.
Tall, and adorned in dark royal robes.
His face was always blurry, as if hidden by the dream itself, but she remembered the feeling of his arms around her as she collapsed against him.
Warm, desperate and broken. His voice echoed faintly in her memory.
"Stay with me."
Her fingers intuitively tightened on the window frame. Why did it feel like she had truly been there? The thought of it brought chills down her spine-she couldn't fathom it.
Ha-rin quickly shook her head, forcing the thought away.
"Okay. Enough."
She turned from the window and walked toward the small kitchen. A glass of water would help her calm her nerves. But the moment she reached the sink—A sharp pain shot through her head.
"Ah—!" She momently gripped unto the counter. For a brief second, the world around her blurred. Just then, the dream flashed before her eyes again. Not like before, it was clearer this time around.
A courtyard illuminated by moonlight with cherry blossoms drifting through the air.
Her own hands trembled, and blood, so much blood that it covered the ground in an instant. The man held onto her so tightly. His arms shook as if he was afraid, she might disappear.
"Arin…" he whispered hoarsely. "Arin?"
Ha-rin gasped and the vision vanished. Her knees nearly buckled. "What… was that?" She steadied herself against the counter, breathing hard. Her name wasn't Arin. It was Ha-rin,right?
The uneasy feeling in her chest refused to fade. In an instant, she quickly finished her water and forced herself back to bed. Morning would come soon and tomorrow was an important day.
After months of searching, she finally had an interview at one of the most prestigious foundations in Seoul, Moonlight Cultural Foundation, owned by the powerful and mysterious businessman everyone talked about. Kang Jae-min.
People called him the youngest business prodigy in Korea. Cold, untouchable and impossible to approach. Ha-rin had no idea why her small application had even been considered. But she wasn't about to question her luck. She pulled the blanket over herself and closed her eyes.
"Just sleep," she murmured softly.
Outside, the moon shone brightly over the city. And somewhere across Seoul, in the top floor of a silent glass tower, a man stood alone by a window. Kang Jae-min stared at the same moon.
The night air was still, cold and unmoving. His expression was unreadable as he held unto an old photograph in his hand. It wasn't a modern photograph; the paper was aged and fragile like centuries old.
On it was a painting of a young woman wearing a delicate hanbok, standing beneath a full moon with her name boldly and carefully inscribed beside the image. Lady Arin.
His fingers brushed lightly over the faded ink. Three hundred years and three centuries of waiting, searching and failing at the same time. But tonight—For the very first time in decades, something felt different.
A strange pull twisted inside his chest as if fate itself had begun to move again. He slowly closed his eyes and whispered into the silent room.
"…You've come back."