In his dream, the air was cold.He stood in the corner of a dusty warehouse, unmoving, his breath shallow.
A girl was crying.
"Please… help me…"
It was Dahye's voice.
He tried to step forward, but his body wouldn't move.He was only a watcher. An outsider. A prisoner in his own mind.
The door creaked open.A tall figure entered, face hidden by a black mask.
"Be quiet. No one's coming," the figure whispered.
Jinwoo screamed—but no sound came out.
He woke in a panic, drenched in sweat.
4:17 a.m.
His chest heaved.The memory was no longer just a dream.
It was real.A piece of the past had returned.