He sprouted up on his feet mechanically as her euphonious voice echoed in the illusion mist, whisking into his ears.
"Hwarang..." She called again, the softness of her voice floating with the wind, as it lured him towards her in an hypnotizing way.
"She's not real, she's dead!" His illusionary clone growled behind him relentlessly, but his words were nothing more than a trail of insignificant whisper as he could only hear her calling onto him.
Hwarang ran toward the direction of her voice in the enveloping mist that thickened the more he wandered in it.
He could barely make out anything in the intensifying mist as he ran, but he followed the direction of her voice erratically.
He halted abruptly in his movements when the mist gradually dissipated into thin air and before he could process what had transpired, he found himself standing in an empty, dark alleyway as the mist faded.
