The chisel gleamed in the dim lantern light. Joon staggered back, his chest heaving, his voice trembling.
"I'm not clay. I'm not—I'm alive. I felt her warmth. I loved her—she loved me!"
The Craftsman's eyes, the same eyes as his own, burned with a cold fury. "If I can make you…" His hand tightened around the chisel, knuckles white. "…then I can break you."
He stepped forward.
Joon shook his head violently, stumbling against a shelf. A doll's head toppled, shattering at his feet. The whispering voices rose in a frenzy.
"Break him. Break him. Break him."
The Craftsman raised the chisel high.
"No—!" Joon's scream tore through the air. He lunged forward, as if reaching for Hana, as if she might appear and pull him back into the snow. But there was only the man, only the mirror of his own face.
The chisel fell.
Agony split through him. Not pain of flesh, but something deeper — the tearing of his very being. Cracks raced across his chest, glowing faintly as dust poured from the wounds. His knees buckled, crashing to the floor.
"No… I was real…" His voice was faint now, each word scattering like ash. "I laughed. I… kissed her. I…"
The Craftsman stood above him, silent, watching as the fractures spread. His own face reflected in Joon's breaking body.
Joon's hands clawed at the floor, desperate to hold onto something, anything. But the wood beneath him dissolved into dust. The workshop blurred, the shelves and dolls collapsing into shadow.
Through the haze, he thought he saw Hana — standing at the edge of the room, her shawl trailing behind her. She smiled at him, soft and sorrowful.
"Hana…" His voice cracked as his vision shattered. "Don't let me go…"
She raised a hand as if to reach him — but she was already fading.
The last crack split his chest open. His body caved in, scattering into a storm of dust.
The workshop fell silent. The whispers stopped. Only the Craftsman remained, chisel trembling in his hand, blood streaking down his face.
He sank to his knees amid the dust that had been Joon, his breath shallow, broken. His eyes glistened, but no tears fell.
He whispered, barely audible:
"…why do I always end up alone?"
The lantern sputtered once… then went out.