"What would you do if the dreams you always thought were unobtainable suddenly became reality?"
The man's voice was soft, quiet — almost tender.
A pause lingered in the air, as if waiting for a response.
Wouldn't it be great to live out your dreams?
But the next words were not an answer.
They were another question.
"Why am I here again?" Ji-Hwan muttered, confused.
He stood on a shoreline of black sand scattered with massive, crystal-clear ice that gleamed like diamonds.
Yet the air was strangely warm — far too warm for ice of that size.
The gentle lap of waves filled the silent night.
It was a scene he recognized.
But something was different.
A distant light shimmered — soft, inviting, bright enough to rival the moon.
Without hesitation, his legs carried him toward it.
It felt less like walking and more like being pulled.
The light grew stronger with each step, slowly revealing the faint outline of a building.
Vines clung to its walls, the structure worn and weathered by time. A sign above the entrance read, in bold glowing letters:
"Theatre of Dreams."
It looked abandoned — ancient, even — as though it had been forgotten longer than memory could hold.
"How is this thing still standing?" Ji-Hwan murmured.
He forced a laugh. "Guess nobody enjoys theater anymore."
As he continued along the shore, the warm evening air thinned and cooled.
Within only a few steps, summer melted into the chill of winter.
"Why is it getting colder?" Ji-Hwan whispered.
The temperature dropped further, the cold tightening around his chest. Each breath felt heavy, the air so dense it stole from his lungs. His steps slowed, toes dragging through the sand.
Something else was moving him forward now — something not entirely his own.
Will I even make it? he wondered.
Then a calm voice drifted from the direction of the building.
"Just a few more steps. Keep going."
The voice was gentle, yet underneath it simmered something hostile.
Too cold to question it, Ji-Hwan forced himself onward, one slow step at a time.
It felt endless — until the music began.
Soft jazz.
A song he knew.
One he used to listen to with his grandfather during long car rides as a child.
Shivering and curious, he approached the entrance.
A tall, polished door — the only restored part of the entire structure — opened as he neared. Its elegance seemed out of place on the decrepit building.
And then he realized:
The guiding light had vanished.
Had it disappeared earlier?
At what point had he stopped following it and started walking to this building on his own?
Unwilling to freeze outside, Ji-Hwan stepped inside.
The door shut behind him on its own.
Warm air wrapped around him, thick with the scent of mold and woodsmoke. Unique. Familiar. Wrong.
The jazz music had vanished.
Silence replaced it — an unnatural silence, almost curated, as though someone had deliberately removed all sound for his arrival.
Someone's expecting me, he thought.
Stage lights burst to life, blinding him.
When his eyes adjusted, a silhouette sharpened into the figure of a young man on the stage.
Tall, mid-twenties, dressed head-to-toe in black except for a single white feather in his hat. He looked dressed for a funeral. And he smiled — wide, too wide — as if he had been eagerly awaiting Ji-Hwan.
He spoke.
"Ji-Hwan… wouldn't it be great if your dreams became reality?"
Ji-Hwan froze.
"H-How do you know my name?"
The man blinked, disappointment flaring across his face.
"How could you forget me?" he murmured.
Unease tightened around the room.
After a long silence, the man repeated — word for word — his previous question.
"Ji-Hwan… wouldn't it be great if your dreams became reality?"
Realizing he wasn't going to get real answers, Ji-Hwan swallowed.
"I mean… yeah. But dreams are unrealistic. They're pointless for people like me."
The man's expression twisted — concern layered over something darker.
"Pointless?" he echoed. "How disappointing to hear. After all… I brought you here to help make your dreams come true."
"I never asked for that," Ji-Hwan said quietly. "But… I'm sorry to disappoint you."
The man's mood shifted yet again — excitement, almost feverish, stretching his smile wider, his eyes opening impossibly far.
"Disappoint me? Never. Everyone has a dream. Sometimes we just need someone to help us… realize it."
Then a familiar whisper brushed Ji-Hwan's ear.
"Ji-Hwan… you deserve to dream too."
His breath caught.
"Grandpa?" he whispered. "Is that you?"
The man's grin stretched unnaturally, consuming the lower half of his face.
"You see, Ji-Hwan… here in Dreamscape, everything you've ever wanted can become real."
Behind him, the curtains opened with a soft whoosh.
A breathtaking landscape unfolded — endless waterfalls, vibrant forests, colors more alive than anything reality could offer. It was infinite. Addictive.
The sight called to him, tugging at him, urging him forward.
"Ji-Hwan," the man said gently, "would you like me to make your dreams a reality here?"
Ji-Hwan hesitated.
Could something this beautiful truly exist?
Then another whisper — his grandfather again.
"This chance is something we never had, Ji-Hwan. We have to take it. You deserve to dream too."
The words felt warm. Comforting. Loved.
"Yes…" Ji-Hwan began.
But something deep inside him twisted.
It's too good to be true.
Another voice — sharper, mocking — echoed in his head.
"Why would this come to you? Didn't you give up on dreaming?"
A softer voice pushed back.
"What if it's not? What if we're finally getting what we deserve? We deserve to dream too."
The warmth won.
"Yes," Ji-Hwan said with certainty.
The curtains slammed shut.
The music screeched to a stop.
"Ji-Hwan!" the man cried — too loud, too excited.
Ji-Hwan's ears rang painfully.
"You have no idea how happy you've made me!"
"What do you mean?" Ji-Hwan asked. "What happened to the music? Where did the landscape go?"
"Step forward," the man instructed, smiling even wider than before — impossibly wide.
Fear clawed up Ji-Hwan's spine, but the fear of refusing was worse.
He stepped forward.
Up close, the man wasn't tall at all.
He was exactly Ji-Hwan's height.
His face… familiar.
Have I seen him before?
The man extended his hand.
"Put 'er there," he said lightly — though his tone felt threatening.
Ji-Hwan, feeling there was no turning back, shook his hand.
The floor cracked beneath them.
The walls crumbled.
Shadows bled through the splintering wood.
A warning — one Ji-Hwan didn't recognize until too late.
"Sadly, this is goodbye, Ji-Hwan," the man said, voice sharp but still mocking. "I look forward to your dreams. See you soon."
He vanished.
And Ji-Hwan fell through the collapsing floor — heart racing, lungs tight, mind spinning.
What had he agreed to?
Who was that man?
How did he know his grandfather's voice?
Why did his face seem so familiar?
And whose voice had he really heard?
It sounds familiar… like someone I spoke to recently, he thought as darkness swallowed him.