Why can't I paint her?

It had been a few days. Luna and Nina were still orchestrating, still manifesting—waiting for the universe to open a hidden tunnel to Mirror Hearth, or a strong gust of fate might wash over them and land them effortlessly inside that house.

No one really knew what they were planning. Not even the two of them.

But Luna… she thought about breaking through the silence even in her sleep. She thought in circles, in dreams, in brushstrokes. Always spinning, always chasing a way forward. Always one step away from remembering something she couldn't quite name.

That late afternoon sun spilled like honey through the tall windows of her studio, warming the cracked paint jars and the soft canvas stretched in front of her. It fell across her lap, her brush, her breath. The air smelled of linseed oil and time—familiar, comforting, like the corners of her childhood she never dared to revisit.

Her hand moved slowly across the canvas, painting the image of a young girl beneath an old tree.

The brush paused. The girl's face was still blurred.

Why can't I paint her?

She squinted, trying to fill in the blank. But the more she tried to define the girl's features, the more they slipped from her grasp. It was as if her mind refused to name her—like her memory had built a wall just before the truth.

Her heart thudded softly. That tree…

It tugged at something. A dream? A memory? She couldn't tell anything.

She had always believed her art was born of wild imagination, that her creativity stemmed from untapped wells of innovation. She was special, everyone said so.

But, it wasn't the entire truth. All this time, she had just been painting her past—painting her own ghosts.

Her hand trembled, just slightly. But she kept painting.

Then— Rrrring.

The sudden shrill of her phone pierced the quiet. Luna jumped slightly, her breath catching as she glanced at the screen.

An unknown number. She hesitated. Not now… I don't have the energy to deal with another gallery director or a press call.

Again, second time, Rrring...

Something inside her—a pulse—told her to answer.

She picked up. "...Hello?"

Silence. Just long enough to make her spine stiffen.

Then— "It's me."

Her chest tightened. That voice.

Hyunsu.

Luna's grip on the phone tightened involuntarily.

"What... What is it?" she asked, careful to keep her tone light. But her voice betrayed her. It wavered. Just a little.

A pause. She could almost hear him thinking.

"Can we meet?"

Her heart skipped.

Meet? Is this… is he asking me on a…? No, stop. Don't jump to conclusions. He's not that type of person. He doesn't think that way.

Her thoughts tangled and twisted, he couldn't possibly guess what I almost asked of him the other day, right? He's not that intuitive. But…

"What's the matter?" she finally asked, her voice quiet but firm.

"It's about your grandfather."

"He is intuitive....."

Her whole body went still. The brush slipped from her hand and clattered against the table.

"My… grandfather?"

"I looked into the hospital records."

Her throat went dry. No… no, please…

"And…?" she whispered.

"I can't explain over the phone. Can we meet in person?" His voice was different. Low. Serious. No sarcastic bite, no teasing edge. It made her stomach twist.

Luna hesitated. Every part of her wanted to say no. She didn't want to open that box. Not again. But… if there's something I don't know—something I need to know…

"...When?"

"Can you come to the hospital now?"

Silence stretched between them.

And then—

"...Okay."

He didn't say anything at first. But when he did, his voice was softer.

"I'll be waiting." Although he was waiting for her half of his life, but this wasn't the time to deviate.

The call ended.

Luna stood frozen, her eyes drifting back to the painting. The girl beneath the tree.

Her face still lost in blur. Frozen in time.

Just like me.

A step closer. One step closer to the truth she had spent a decade running from. And for the first time— she wasn't sure if she was ready.

***

Later that evening, The corridors of Miracle Hospital stretched ahead, white and humming with fluorescent light. Luna walked with steady steps, but her fingers curled at her sides. Her nerves frayed at the edges.

Why am I so nervous? It's just Hyunsu. But he had said her grandfather. He had said records.

Her stomach churned.

"Looking for Hyunsu?" Luna turned sharply at that sound.

A man in a doctor's coat leaned against the desk, arms folded, smile lazy and amused. He had kind eyes, a strong jawline, and the easy confidence of someone who never struggled to make conversation.

"Yes," she answered, cautious.

He laughed softly. "Yeah, figured. You've got that look."

She frowned. "What look?"

He held out a hand. "Jinwoo. Hyunsu's best friend since high school. And a proud doctor at this glorious institution. I also know Nina. She's mentioned you about five thousand times."

Luna hesitated, then shook his hand. So this guy is his best friend. Why does he talk like he's already part of my story?

Jinwoo tilted his head toward the hallway. "Come on. He's waiting."

As they walked, Luna took in the hospital around her. Soft footsteps. Quiet machines. A nurse's soft murmur down the hall. The calm before something unseen.

Then, as they turned the corner— The air changed. Like a curtain had lifted.

The hallway they entered was quieter. The hum of the hospital faded into the background, replaced by the soft throb of machines and the occasional low beep echoing behind thick glass walls. Each window revealed a different room—some sterile and empty, others filled with strange, specialized equipment that looked both medical and futuristic.

The lighting here was dimmer, diffused through panels on the ceiling, casting long, gentle shadows that stretched across the pristine floor. It felt less like a hospital… and more like the belly of a secret lab.

Luna's brows drew together. "Where exactly are we going?"

Jinwoo smirked, unfazed. "You'll see."

Something in his tone made her uneasy. They turned a final corner—and stopped. Jinwoo gestured toward a large glass window ahead.

Luna stepped closer—then froze.

Inside, she saw Hyunsu.

He stood with his arms crossed, a white lab coat hanging effortlessly from his shoulders — like it was tailored just for him. The dim lighting of the lab cast sharp angles across his face, highlighting the defined line of his jaw, the calm intensity in his eyes, and the way a single strand of his tousled hair fell just above his brow.

He wasn't moving much — just watching the screen, every inch of him controlled, composed.

But to Luna, it felt like the room itself was paying attention to him.

For a moment, she forgot why she was even there.

All the reasons, all the questions, the tensions in her chest — they slipped away, drowned in the quiet magnetism of the man standing behind the glass.

She'd never seen him like this. He looked... different, not just more mature, he looked complete, like he'd found his place. Like this was exactly where he belonged — surrounded by machines, data, dreams.

It wasn't just the setting. It was him.

Focused. Sharp. Cold, even. Is this really… Hyunsu?

The way he tilted his head slightly while analyzing the screen. The way his fingers tapped a pen against his clipboard — thoughtful, absent, precise. The sharpness in his gaze. The calm authority he carried, even in silence.

And the most frustrating part?

He didn't even seem to realize how devastatingly attractive he looked like that — entirely lost in thought, completely unaware of the chaos he was stirring in hers.

But then she saw a patient in the center of the room. seated in a stark metal chair, the man was barely visible beneath the thick nest of wires wrapped around his head. Sensors ran from his scalp to a machine behind him that blinked with soft, rhythmic lights. Monitors tracked every breath, every twitch, every signal that left his brain.

Data streamed across the screen—endless lines, shifting pulses of brainwaves, pulsing in rhythm like the patient's silent thoughts were trying to speak. Luna's eyes fixed on the screen, the constant shifts in the data almost hypnotic. The brainwave patterns were erratic at first, chaotic, but then... slowly, something changed.

The lines began to smooth out, becoming more uniform, more deliberate. The strange, almost alien shapes on the screen took on a new rhythm, almost like the patient's mind was settling into something—something familiar.

Hyunsu's voice carried faintly through the glass—low, precise, and commanding. He gestured once to the nurse beside him, who nodded and adjusted a dial on one of the machines.

Luna stared. A chill crept down her spine.

What… is he doing?

She had always known Hyunsu was brilliant, even if he buried it under sarcasm and cynicism. But this—this version of him felt like someone she didn't recognize. This wasn't the man who teased her endlessly, and acted as a jerk.

This man is a scientist. An investigator of minds. A keeper of dreams. Her gaze drifted to the screen again.

Luna stared through the glass.

Then— The screen flickered. And then, as if on cue, an image flashed on the screen.

It was fleeting, nothing more than a blur of colors—fog and shadows at first—but it slowly began to solidify. A shape, a face perhaps, then a little girl—most likely that patient's daughter?

For a moment, Luna thought she was imagining it, but as the image shifted again, she could feel a chill crawl down her spine.

Before she could blink, the image shifted again—the little girl disappeared, replaced by another woman's face. A figure stood near a window, too distorted to recognize. It flickered like an old film reel caught between frames, the details slipping in and out of focus, like something trying to escape from memory.

"What the... Is... that normal?" Luna whispered.

Her brain scrambled to keep up. How? What are these? What is he doing?

She turned to Jinwoo, but his casual smirk offered no answers. Just amusement.

"What is this?" she asked, almost to herself.

Inside the room, Hyunsu stepped closer to the monitor. The image had stabilized again—now a red house. A woman with a smiling face and a small figure holding a balloon, it was that patient's family.

And that was the moment Luna saw it—

Hyunsu's smile.

It spread slowly, like warmth finally breaking through after a cold season. His posture shifted—not the clinical, detached stance of a scientist—but something more personal. There was a flicker of awe in his eyes, of validation. Of relief. Like this—this fleeting image—was what he'd been chasing for years.

Seeing his smile made her smile without even realizing it. That brief moment of joy in his eyes was contagious, stirring something deep within her.

He stepped back slightly, as if to take it in fully. And then—

He looked up suddenly. Their eyes locked.

For a second, time forgot how to move.

Luna didn't breathe. Neither did he.

Everything else—nurses, machines, data—faded to the edges. It was just the two of them, separated by glass and ten years of silence, grief, and things left unsaid.

In Hyunsu's gaze, she saw it all: surprise, vulnerability, and something else more like… Pride.

Like he'd finally built something that mattered. Like he wanted her to be the first one to witness his victory.

And in that second, Luna wasn't sure if she was looking at a man who was unlocking dreams—

"What is this?" this time she asked aloud.

Beside her, Jinwoo answered casually. "That's the magic of his dream machine. It taps into the dream state. It's never exact, but sometimes... it pulls something from their subconscious."

Her heart stopped.

Dream machine.... Hyunsu...

Time slowed. And then— A memory.

"I had a dream last night… but I don't remember what it was. But when I woke up… I cried. I cried a lot. What if there is some kind of machine to see what I dreamt?"

Her voice. Small. Childlike. Echoing from the past.

The air thickened.

Luna's fingers curled tightly against her coat. She turned back toward the glass, her mind reeling.

Is this a coincidence? 

Hyunsu handed off the tablet he was holding, then stepped out of the room.

The door closed behind him with a hiss, sealing the experiment inside. But now… Luna felt like she was the one under observation.

He approached her slowly, the white coat still clinging to his frame. His expression softened, though only slightly.

"You came..," he said.

"I told you I would," Luna replied. Her voice was firmer than she felt.

She crossed her arms—part defense, part habit—but her thoughts were spinning wildly. The machine. The patient. The patterns. The image. And Hyunsu—standing in the middle of it all like he'd been hiding this side of himself the entire time.

She looked back through the glass. "That... is what you do?"

Her voice came out quieter than she meant it to.

Hyunsu didn't respond immediately. He followed her gaze instead. Back to the man in the chair. Back to the glowing screens. Back to the evidence of something far beyond a simple hospital diagnosis.

Finally, he said, "It's part of it."

But Luna felt it in her bones—this was more than just work. It was obsession. A mission. Something deeply personal. And suddenly—

She realized something that sent an icy shiver down her spine—something far colder than the machine inside that room could ever make her feel.

"I didn't know this man. Not truly."

Not the one standing before her, bathed in the dim, flickering lights of the dream he was desperately trying to decode.

The Hyunsu she thought she knew, was slipping further away from her, his true self buried behind the cold, detached figure of a scientist—a man who was as enigmatic and unreachable as the dreams he studied.

And in that moment, the distance between them felt infinite, like a chasm neither of them could cross."