Ji-Hwan rose from darkness as though dragging himself through heavy water.
Awoken with a shiver, the feeling of falling bleeding into the world he knew and "loved"
A ringing sound pulsed in his ears.
Sharp. Repetitive. Apple-ly.
His alarm clock.
His eyes opened to the gray morning light leaking through his curtains. The familiar ceiling came into view — boring, plain, safe.
Too safe.
He lay there for a moment, his breath unsteady as fragments of the dream clung to him like wet sand.
Black shore.
Crystal ice glowing like diamonds.
A theater sign burning like a star.
A man in a black suit with a white feather—
And a voice that was not a voice.
You deserve to dream too, Ji-Hwan…
His grandfather's whisper.
He lay in bed with an almost freezing sensation throughout his body,
A feeling equal to the sensation he felt in the world he had just been ejected from.
He swallowed, chest tightening. It shouldn't feel this real.
The alarm continued screaming. Ji-Hwan finally reached over and slapped it off. Silence filled the room.
He pushed himself upright. His body felt heavy, drained, as if he aged within the duration of a night
Just a dream, he told himself.
But the words rang hollow.
Dreams usually have a way of letting you know what is and isn't
But this one felt as if it was something he truly experienced.
He shuffled into the bathroom, flicking on the fluorescent light. It buzzed faintly before stabilizing.
Ji-Hwan stared at his reflection.
Hair a mess.
Dark smudges under his eyes.
Lips pressed into a line.
He looked tired.
Understandable. Anyone would be after a nightmare like—
His thoughts cut off as he splashed cold water on his face. Droplets clung to his skin, and for a moment he simply leaned forward, palms pressed to the sink, breathing.
But the images didn't fade.
The too-wide smile of a mysterious man in all black.
That gentle, hostile voice.
The curtains slamming shut.
The floor collapsing under him—
"See you soon"
Ji-Hwan shuddered.
He opened his eyes—
And froze.
His reflection wasn't moving.
Every instinct in him screamed. His pulse slammed against his ribs. His throat tightened.
And Ji-Hwan reacted the way Ji-Hwan always reacted when the world tried to demand seriousness from him:
With ill placed comedy,
He took the situation and threw it directly into the trash.
He cleared his throat and began singing.
🎵 "I'm talkin' 'bout the man in the mirror…
I wonder why it changed this way…" 🎵
His voice trembled, but he pushed through.
🎵 "…If you wanna make the world a better place,
ignore the man in the mirror 'cause that's probably fake." 🎵
His reflection didn't sing.
Or blink.
Or breathe.
But when Ji-Hwan grabbed his toothbrush and started brushing his teeth, refusing to acknowledge the eldritch nonsense before breakfast, the reflection finally snapped back into sync.
Almost like it had been caught doing something it shouldn't.
Ji-Hwan pretended not to notice.
That was his specialty, after all — avoiding anything that threatened his stability.
And stability was everything.
Ji-Hwan had spent most of his life chasing simplicity: studying hard, graduating at the top of his class, sacrificing moments of youth in exchange for a future he could rely on.
Dreams were unpredictable.
Life goals were expensive.
But stability?
Stability was safe, certain.
Much unlike the action called "dreaming",
The man in the theatre offered to make "dreams a reality" and that very phrase is why he avoids them,
He believes that one should secure a simple, stable job to live life without worries.
That was why he became a corporate office worker — the most stable, predictable life he could imagine.
His coworkers "liked" him.
They liked him fetching their coffee, finishing their reports, and doing the tasks they didn't want to deal with.
Which meant they liked him… right?
His boss? Strict. A little strange. But he sat in the seat Ji-Hwan wanted most:
"The Throne of the Corporate Building."
They were practically family — at least in Ji-Hwan's imagination.
They'd eaten together. Went shopping once. Watched a movie "together" (his boss spent the whole time emailing, but still).
His boss had even hinted at promoting him.
Hints weren't promises, but they were close enough to keep Ji-Hwan going.
He just had to work hard every day.
One day, that throne would be his.
Outside of work, Ji-Hwan was… a playboy.
Of games.
His routine never changed:
Karaoke — alone.
Sauna — alone.
Something sweet with someone special — his grandpa.
Not glamorous, but stable.
Not exciting, but predictable.
And predictable meant safe.
Women?
A girlfriend?
Absolutely not — romance could ruin his perfectly balanced stability.
He winked at himself in the mirror, trying to ignore how pale he looked.
"Can I show you my charm?" he said with forced confidence.
His reflection blinked a hair too late.
Ji-Hwan didn't notice.
"My life is perfect," he said proudly.
"Stable. Predictable. Comfortable. I'll never regret the choices that led me here."
Ji-Hwan clung to the idea of stability almost as if were keeping him safe,
If the dream he had experienced had truly been real then his idea of living would be shattered, and with that so would his identity.
He smiled.
A small, content smile.
The mirror smiled back—
A fraction wider.
Ji-Hwan didn't see it.
He turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the hall.
"Everything's exactly how it should be," he whispered.
His voice echoed strangely.
Soft.
Almost… answered.
Or so I thought.