Chapter 2: Ryu Taesan

The weight of my bags felt insignificant compared to the heaviness in my chest as I dragged everything from what used to be my home—my parents' home. I set up a small, cold life in a rooftop room near my university, exactly as my mother had wanted. She didn't want me around, didn't want to see my face again. I was the "curse," she said. The reason my sister and father were dead. And maybe she was right. I didn't blame her. I blamed myself.

I couldn't save them. Not my sister. Not my father. My sister died one year ago.

And the girl… the one I saw in my dreams, I wasn't sure if I had saved her either. But I refused to believe that it was just a dream. It felt too real, as if she had been reaching out to me for help. That feeling clung to me, refusing to let go.

The sound of footsteps snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. Dohyun stood at the doorway of my tiny, lonely space. His expression was gentle, but there was a hint of frustration in his eyes as he sighed.

"You should've called me, Taesan. I could've helped you with the move."

I didn't reply. I didn't feel like I could reply.

He let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again, cautiously. "Taesan-ah, can I ask you something… if you don't mind?"

I finally looked at him, my voice as cold as the air around me. "I don't have a mind to mind when someone talks. Just say whatever you want to say."

Dohyun hesitated, clearly weighing his words before he spoke again. "Don't you find it strange? About Mrs. Ryu Sooah—your mom, I mean. She abandoned you. You're her son, her only son! I didn't want to bring this up, but…"

I cut him off, my tone sharp. "Dohyun, I'm not feeling well. I'm going out."

"Ah… okay." He stood, but there was still concern in his voice. "But we're going together to university tomorrow, right? It's our first day. I'll come pick you up."

"I'm not a child," I muttered. "We'll meet there."

"But still, I have some—"

"Responsibilities as my best friend?" I interrupted again, my words laced with bitterness. "Just because I lost my father a few days ago? Just because I lost my older sister one year ago? Don't pity me, Dohyun. I don't need it."

Dohyun's face fell, but he didn't argue. Instead, he sighed softly. "I know you're not in the mood to talk. Let's leave it for tomorrow. I'll come get you in the morning, no matter what you say."

He grabbed his jacket and quietly left, the door clicking shut behind him. I exhaled, feeling guilty for lashing out. Dohyun had always been there for me, even when I pushed him away. We'd been like this since we were kids—me closing off, and him pulling me back. But tonight, I couldn't handle it. I needed to be alone.

After Dohyun left, I followed. The night air was cool, and the wind carried the scent of impending rain. I hated that smell. It always reminded me of things I wanted to forget. I wandered aimlessly, the emptiness inside me growing heavier with each step. The streets were empty, and the only sound was the soft rustle of the wind.

I found myself near the bridge. The same bridge I had seen in my dream. My body acted on its own, and before I knew it, I was screaming. Screaming out everything that was tearing me apart inside. My voice echoed through the night, but no one was there to hear me. Only the rain.

As if on cue, the skies opened, and the downpour began. My tears mingled with the rain, but it felt like the storm was mocking me, drowning out my grief before anyone could see it. My glasses fogged up, droplets blurring my already hazy vision. I tried wiping them, but my hands were shaking too much. Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I screamed again, my voice swallowed by the relentless storm.

I collapsed to my knees, soaked and shivering, feeling more lost than I had ever been. I wanted someone—anyone—to hear me. But there was no one. No one but the rain.

Suddenly, in the cold, I felt it—something warm. A presence. I blinked through the blur and saw a figure standing above me, holding an umbrella. A girl.

"You can take it," she said softly, her voice blending with the rhythm of the rain. "I don't need it anymore."

I could barely make out her face, but her voice was soothing, gentle. She placed the umbrella beside me and turned to leave, walking toward the bridge. My heart clenched. Something was wrong.

The way she moved, the quiet resignation in her steps—it hit me like a punch. My dream was coming true. The same dream. The same girl.

I couldn't let this happen. I wasn't going to lose her too.

I scrambled to my feet, my body moving before my mind could catch up, and ran after her. The rain pounded harder, but I pushed through, reaching out, my hand grabbing hers before it was too late.

"Wait!" I gasped, my voice trembling. "Please… don't go."

The thought gripped me as I stood there, heart pounding. The girl didn't even glance in my direction. I didn't say anything at first, afraid my words would shatter the fragile silence between us.

The one thing I finally said, almost a whisper: "Please, don't die."

My voice trembled as I reached for her hand, holding on, hoping it would be enough. She didn't turn around. She didn't look at me, but she stopped. A moment of stillness.

"Come down from the railing," I urged, my voice barely steady. She paused, hesitating, and for a minute, everything seemed suspended in time. Then, slowly, she stepped down.

I was still holding her hand, gripping it like a lifeline. But she wouldn't look at me. I searched for her eyes, desperately trying to catch them, to see if there was something—anything—that would tell me what she was feeling.

She stopped, her back still to me. The world seemed to hold its breath as I held on, refusing to let her slip away.

She started walking away, her steps slow but deliberate, still without saying a word. The silence between us was heavy, like a wall I couldn't break through. My hand fell to my side, the empty space where hers had been aching with the weight of everything unspoken.

I watched her retreat, the distance between us growing with every step she took. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, her body trembling in the cold night air. Something inside me twisted, refusing to let her disappear like this.

Without thinking, I pulled off my T-shirt and jogged toward her. The chill hit me instantly, but I didn't care. I caught up to her, and without a word, I wrapped the shirt around her shoulders. She flinched slightly at the sudden warmth, but she didn't pull away.

For a moment, we stood there—her, wrapped in my shirt, and me, unsure if this small gesture would be enough to bridge the gap between us. She didn't turn around, didn't say anything, but her steps slowed.

"You don't have to say anything," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "But just... don't disappear like that."