When Eunha opened her eyes, she expected light. Instead, she found color.
It wasn't the color of the physical world — it was thicker, heavier. The air shimmered with gradients that changed depending on how she felt.
Blue when she breathed.
Gold when Jiheon stirred.
Red when she thought of fear.
> "We're not in Seoul anymore," Jiheon murmured beside her.
They stood on what looked like a field of glass. Beneath it, cities pulsed faintly — floating visions of people asleep, dreaming below.
"This is…" Eunha whispered. "The Kingdom of Dreams."
---
⚜️
Every dream humanity ever had floated below them, layered like a living library — kingdoms of lost hopes, oceans of regret, gardens of forgotten love.
Jiheon crouched and touched the glass surface. It rippled like water, and a memory surfaced: a little boy flying a paper plane.
Eunha smiled softly. "The boy's dream is pure. The Kingdom feeds on such innocence."
He frowned. "Feeds?"
She nodded. "Every human dream strengthens this realm. Every nightmare weakens it."
"So we're what — its guardians?"
Eunha hesitated. Then: "No. Its architects."
---
⚜️
The realization hit Jiheon like a storm. "You mean this place responds to us?"
Eunha turned her palm upward. Light spiraled above her hand, forming a bridge across the horizon.
"Yes. The dream adapts to our emotions, our memories, even our doubts. It's alive — but only as much as we believe in it."
Jiheon looked around. The bridge stretched infinitely, connecting unseen realms. "Then what happens if we stop believing?"
The bridge began to fade.
Eunha clenched her fist, restoring it. "It unravels. And takes pieces of us with it."
---
⚜️
They began walking across the bridge. Beneath their feet, the glass rippled with images of sleeping humans. Faces twitched. Dreams shifted.
Jiheon whispered, "It's like walking across people's souls."
Eunha replied, "In a way, you are."
At the horizon's edge, towers emerged — translucent spires woven from memory and thought.
Each tower pulsed with stories — love confessed, wars fought, songs never sung.
They stopped before the largest one. A sigil burned above its gate: The House of Forgotten Dreams.
---
⚜️
Inside, time behaved like a polite guest — unpredictable but never rude.
Books floated mid-air. Staircases twisted into each other. A chandelier dripped moonlight instead of wax.
A voice greeted them. "Welcome, Dreamers."
From between the shelves, a tall woman stepped forward — cloaked in translucent fabric that shimmered like starlight. Her eyes were violet, but her smile was strangely human.
> "I am Naeryun, the Custodian of the First Dream."
Eunha bowed slightly. "You survived the collapse?"
Naeryun smiled. "Survived? Child, I am the collapse."
---
⚜️
Naeryun walked gracefully between the shelves, touching spines as she spoke. "When imagination first bled into reality, I was born — a fragment of the world's first wish."
Jiheon tilted his head. "So, you're a goddess?"
Naeryun laughed. "Titles are illusions. But if you need one, I am what happens when humanity dreams of meaning."
She stopped before them. "The Kingdom is unstable. The axis is healed, yes — but the balance depends on you two."
Eunha frowned. "Why us?"
> "Because you are opposites — logic and instinct, reason and belief. Together, you are equilibrium."
---
⚜️
Eunha lowered her gaze. "If we're its balance, then what happens when we disagree?"
Naeryun's smile vanished. "Then the Kingdom fractures again."
A low tremor passed through the ground, as if to punctuate her words.
Jiheon exhaled. "Great. No pressure."
Naeryun reached out, brushing his temple lightly. "Pressure creates diamonds. Or disasters."
Then her form began to fade. "Guard the line between dream and waking. The moment one crosses the other, your world will cease to exist."
Her last words echoed as she vanished into mist.
---
⚜️
For a long while, they stood in silence.
Jiheon finally spoke. "She's gone."
Eunha nodded. "No. She's watching. The Custodian always watches."
Then her tone softened. "You okay?"
He snorted. "I'm a knight trapped in a shared hallucination with a woman who can rewrite physics. Define 'okay.'"
Eunha laughed — genuinely, this time. "That's the first time you've joked since the Mirror Incident."
He smirked faintly. "Maybe this place is getting to me."
---
⚜️
They left the House of Forgotten Dreams and descended into the fields below.
Here, dreams took tangible form:
Wolves with wings howled lullabies.
Trees grew from spilled ink.
The air tasted like nostalgia.
Each creation recognized Eunha as its maker — bowing, flickering, whispering "Countess."
Jiheon noticed. "They worship you."
"They remember me," she corrected. "But they fear you."
He raised a brow. "And why's that?"
"Because you represent reality. The part of the dream that ends."
---
⚜️
That night — if night could even exist here — they camped beside a river of starlight.
Eunha sat with her legs folded beneath her, tracing runes on the water's surface.
Jiheon watched her quietly. "You're not sleeping."
"Can't," she said simply. "If I do, this realm might bleed into my subconscious. It would start creating from my nightmares."
He sighed. "So you just… keep control all the time?"
Her eyes flicked toward him. "Control isn't the goal, Jiheon. Balance is."
"Sounds exhausting."
She smiled faintly. "It is."
---
⚜️
A soft breeze carried laughter from somewhere distant. Jiheon turned, spotting faint silhouettes across the river — children playing, lovers walking, elders telling stories.
"They look so real," he murmured.
"They are real," Eunha said quietly. "Echoes of human dreams. Every night, they come here while their bodies sleep."
He looked at her. "Do they ever wake up?"
She hesitated. "Some don't."
His jaw tightened. "Then we're not just guardians. We're jailers."
Eunha's expression darkened. "That's why we must guide them — not rule them."
---
⚜️
Suddenly, the air changed.
A sound — faint but growing — like whispers under water.
Then came a voice. Familiar. Male. Cold.
> "Dreamers cannot control what they did not create."
Eunha froze. "No…"
Jiheon rose instantly, hand on his sword. "Who is it?"
From the rippling river, a shape emerged — tall, elegant, and draped in twilight silk. His eyes gleamed gold.
> "It's been a long time, Countess."
Eunha's breath caught. "Lord Haneul."
Jiheon looked between them. "You know him?"
Her answer was soft — and heavy.
> "He was my mentor. Before I destroyed the Axis."
---
⚜️
Haneul stepped onto the riverbank, water solidifying beneath his feet.
"Your recklessness has birthed a second world. You've blurred the line between gods and men."
Eunha's voice trembled. "I rebuilt what you abandoned."
He smiled — calm, cruel. "And in doing so, you created your own execution ground."
Jiheon stepped forward, blade half-drawn. "If you're here to threaten her—"
Haneul raised a hand. The air around Jiheon froze.
"I am not here to threaten," he said softly. "I am here to reclaim what was mine — the Dream Axis itself."