Garment bags rustled like gossip.
Shoes were carefully placed back into boxes. Ties were folded with exaggerated seriousness.
The living room looked like a temporary fashion headquarters dismantling after a successful campaign.
Min-Hyuk was still adjusting his cuffs in the reflection of the TV screen.
"Stop staring at yourself," Seo-Yeon muttered.
"I'm memorizing excellence."
"You're memorizing ego."
Nisa laughed softly while slipping her dress back into its bag. "We survived."
"For now," Do-Hyun replied. "Mother hasn't arrived yet."
Ji-Ah was gathering tissue paper when Seo-Yeon suddenly stepped toward her.
Not teasing.
Not casual.
Purposeful.
"Ji-Ah."
She looked up. "What?"
Seo-Yeon hesitated only a second. "I need Dad and Jeon-Seo here."
Ji-Ah straightened slightly.
"So I can introduce Min-Hyuk properly," Seo-Yeon continued. "Not like… a hallway surprise."
Min-Hyuk, who had been pretending not to listen, immediately stiffened.
"Properly?" he repeated.
Seo-Yeon ignored him. Her gaze stayed on Ji-Ah. "If we're doing this, I want it done right."
Ji-Ah studied her face.
Serious.
Steady.
No jokes.
She nodded once. "I'll call them."
Min-Hyuk blinked twice. "Wait. Wait. We're accelerating."
Seo-Yeon finally looked at him. "You wanted simple."
He swallowed. "Simple does not mean parental summit."
Ji-Ah smirked faintly. "Relax. If Dad likes you, you'll survive. If he doesn't… well."
"Ji-Ah," Seo-Yeon warned.
"I'm kidding."
Mostly.
Meanwhile—
Ha-Joon had already picked up his garment bag and headed toward his room.
Do-Hyun noticed.
Of course he did.
He followed.
Ha-Joon's Room
The door closed behind them.
Ha-Joon set the bag on the chair but didn't sit.
He stood by the mirror again.
Still wearing the midnight blue.
Do-Hyun leaned against the wall. "You reacted."
Ha-Joon didn't respond.
"You don't react," Do-Hyun continued. "You critique. You deflect. You insult. Tonight you just… stood there."
Silence.
Then finally—
"How are they so identical?" Ha-Joon muttered.
Do-Hyun frowned. "Who?"
Ha-Joon's jaw tightened slightly.
"Not in face," he clarified. "In behavior."
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"The way they talk. The things they like. The songs. Even the way they choose colors."
Do-Hyun's expression shifted.
Realization.
"You mean—"
"I'm not imagining it," Ha-Joon cut in quietly.
For the first time that night, he didn't look sharp.
He looked… unsettled.
Concerned.
A little stressed.
"They're not the same person," Do-Hyun said carefully.
"I know that."
"Then what's bothering you?"
Ha-Joon looked at his reflection again.
Midnight blue.
Memory wrapped in fabric.
"She always chose that color," he admitted. "Not Ji-Ah."
The room went still.
"But Ji-Ah chose it tonight," Do-Hyun said gently.
Ha-Joon nodded once.
"That's the problem."
He turned away from the mirror.
"I don't know if I'm seeing patterns because I'm used to them… or because they're actually there."
Do-Hyun crossed his arms. "And if they are?"
Ha-Joon didn't answer immediately.
His voice, when it came, was quieter.
"Then I don't know what that means."
Outside the room, laughter drifted faintly from the living area.
Inside, the air felt heavier.
"You're not replacing anything," Do-Hyun said finally. "And she's not copying anyone."
Ha-Joon's shoulders eased just slightly.
"She doesn't even know," he murmured.
"Exactly."
A long pause.
Then Do-Hyun added, "You thanked her."
Ha-Joon glanced at him.
"You never thank anyone."
"…I know."
"And you looked at her like you were trying to solve something."
Ha-Joon's lips pressed thin.
"I was."
Do-Hyun pushed off the wall.
"Just don't confuse familiarity with destiny."
Ha-Joon absorbed that quietly.
From the hallway, Ji-Ah's voice floated in.
"Are you two holding a secret meeting?"
Ha-Joon closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
The worry didn't disappear.
But it steadied.
"I need time," he said.
Do-Hyun nodded once. "Then take it. Just don't disappear again."
Ha-Joon gave a faint, almost tired smirk.
"I won't."
And this time, it sounded less like a promise to the room—
And more like one to himself.
-----
Night folded over the house like a quiet curtain.
And Ji-Ah was running.
In the dream, she didn't know why.
There was rain. Too much of it. The kind that blurred streetlights into smears of gold. A car. Screeching brakes. The metallic snap of something breaking.
A woman stood in the middle of the road.
She couldn't see her face clearly.
Just the outline.
The familiarity.
The way the woman turned at the last second—
Headlights.
Impact.
The sound wasn't loud.
It was heavy.
Ji-Ah's chest tightened as if the air had been pulled out of the world.
She tried to move.
She couldn't.
The woman's hand twitched slightly against the asphalt.
Then everything went white.
—
Ji-Ah jolted upright.
Breathing sharp.
Sheets tangled around her legs.
Her hair clung to her forehead from sweat.
"What an awful dream," she whispered hoarsely.
Her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to escape.
Why would I dream of that?
She pressed a hand to her chest, grounding herself.
It wasn't anyone she clearly recognized.
But the feeling lingered.
Too real.
Too close.
After a minute, she pushed the covers back.
Water.
She needed water.
—
Downstairs, the kitchen light was already on.
Ha-Joon stood by the counter, a glass in his hand.
He looked up the moment she stepped in.
They both paused.
"You too?" she asked.
He nodded once. "Nightmare."
She blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yes."
She grabbed a glass and filled it, taking a long sip.
The silence between them wasn't tense.
Just fragile.
"What was yours about?" she asked cautiously.
He looked down at his glass.
"Nothing clear," he said. "Just… wrong."
She frowned slightly.
"That's exactly how mine felt."
He glanced at her.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," she answered quickly. "Just weird."
She leaned against the counter.
"Are Do-Hyun and Min-Hyuk ready for tomorrow?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied. "They're pretending not to be nervous."
"That means they're very nervous."
He gave the faintest huff of agreement.
"I invited Dad," she added casually. "So he can meet Min-Hyuk properly."
Ha-Joon's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"You move fast."
"You told me to handle it properly."
"I didn't expect immediate execution."
She shrugged. "Seo-Yeon asked."
He nodded slowly.
"That's good," he said. "Better to do it right."
Another quiet stretch.
Then he looked at her more seriously.
"You should focus on work too."
She blinked. "What?"
"You're managing my family's affairs, calling parents, organizing introductions…" He set his glass down. "Don't forget your own things."
She studied his expression.
Not critical.
Concerned.
"I can multitask," she replied lightly.
"I know you can."
He held her gaze.
"But don't make my family your full-time project."
Her posture softened just a little.
"…Okay," she said.
He nodded once.
"Sure?"
"Sure."
They stood there for another moment.
Two people who had both seen something unsettling in their sleep.
Neither fully explaining it.
Neither fully understanding why it felt connected.
Ji-Ah finished her water.
"Next time you have a nightmare," she muttered, heading toward the stairs, "at least dream of something less dramatic."
He almost smiled.
"I'll schedule it."
She glanced back at him once before going up.
He was still standing there.
Thoughtful.
And for some reason, the image of headlights in the rain flickered again in her mind.
She shook it off.
Just a dream.
Right?