Mira first notices something is wrong when Hiyoon isn't looking at her.
They're standing near a subway entrance, the kind people rush through without thinking. He's solid enough tonight that she can see the crease between his brows as he frowns.
"What is it?" she asks.
"There's someone behind you," he says.
Mira turns.
A woman stands a few steps away, checking her phone. Ordinary. Unremarkable.
When Mira looks back, Hiyoon is staring at the woman with unmistakable alarm.
"She can see me," he says.
Mira's stomach drops. "That's not possible."
The woman glances up.
Her eyes flick past Mira—then stop.
She squints, as if trying to focus on something that shouldn't be there.
Hiyoon steps back instinctively.
"I don't stay when I'm seen by more than one," he whispers.
The woman looks away again, distracted by a train announcement. The moment passes.
Hiyoon exhales shakily.
Mira's heart pounds. "What happens if someone else remembers you?"
"I don't know," he admits. "It's never happened before."
That night, Mira dreams of a crowd all calling her name at once.