Hana was adrift in a world where the lines between reality and dreams blurred. She couldn't move, couldn't speak—yet her body seemed to act of its own volition. She was a mere observer, trapped in a state of paralysis as she floated above an unfamiliar bed. Her eyes followed her own body, now strangely detached and moving with a grace she'd never known.
She looked down and saw herself—or at least, someone who looked exactly like her. The woman had the same light brown hair cascading in waves, the same piercing honey eyes ,the same slender frame. But there was a difference: this woman exuded an alluring confidence, draped in a short black dress that hugged her curves, and high heels that clicked ominously against the wooden floor. A tattoo of a snake coiled around her thigh, disappearing beneath the hem of her dress.
A chill crept up Hana's spine. She tried to scream, but no sound emerged. She watched, helpless, as a door creaked open and a man stepped in—a man with blond hair, his features sharp and familiar, just like the one from her vision. His smile was wide and predatory, his eyes fixed intently on the woman who looked like her.
"Ready, my love?" he whispered, his voice a low, syrupy drawl as he moved closer to the woman. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss onto her skin. The woman smiled—a smile that was both hers and not hers—and tilted her head with a playful glint in her eye.
Hana's vision blurred with terror. She couldn't see the woman's expression clearly, only her own body floating just behind the bed, unmoving. The feeling of helplessness crushed her as if she were trapped in her own mind.
The woman in the black dress turned, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall over exposed skin. With one hand on the door handle, she glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling into a smirk. "Yes, let's make the old hag mad," she purred.
The blond man chuckled and rose, following her out of the room. As they stepped into the darkness, a spark of pain shot through Hana's temple—a sharp, blinding agony that swallowed her whole. Everything went dark.
When Hana opened her eyes again, she blinked several times, her vision struggling to adjust. She stared up at a ceiling she recognized...the break room ceiling, theroom now filled with cold, sterile light. Panic surged through her veins. She shot up from the couch, but a sharp pain flared in her hands, making her wince. Looking down, she saw they were wrapped in bandages, the memory of what happened crashing back into her mind like a tidal wave. The fear crept in, cold and invasive. What had possessed her body? What was that dream? And who was the woman that looked so much like her? So many questions clawed at her thoughts, and she didn't notice Detective Nathan entering the room until his voice broke through the fog of her mind.
"Hey, you're awake," Nathan said softly, holding a cup filled with orange juice and some pills. "Painkillers."
Hana nodded, taking the pills from his hand and washing them down with the juice. The bitterness lingered on her tongue. "W… what happened?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nathan pulled up a chair beside her. "We found Mime," he said, watching her closely. "She was shaken, but she's alive. Her parents and the others from that Renewal cult—they all left when the truth came out. The cult leader has been sentenced to prison."
Relief washed over Hana, but a shadow still hung over her heart. She could see Nathan's gaze sharpen as he continued, his eyes like knives cutting through her.
She glanced toward the door and noticed a shadow lurking beneath it. Nathan's tone became more serious. "Hana," he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.
Hana bit her lip, already anticipating what he was going to ask. But before she could brace herself, his expression softened unexpectedly. He reached out, patting her shoulder with a surprising gentleness. "Well done," he said.
She looked at him, bewildered. "How can you say that?" she whispered, her voice trembling. She had killed someone—what's more, she hadn't felt the guilt even now. The absence of remorse gnawed at her insides.
"It was self-defense, alright?" Nathan stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
"But…" Hana started.
"Hana," he cut her off, his voice as unwavering as stone. "I said it was self-defense. Got that?"
He didn't give her time to question him. He stood, his demeanor back to its usual, confident self. "Take some rest. We can talk more later if you have any more questions."
Hana nodded, but how could she question him about things she herself couldn't make sense of? She watched as he left the room, sighing deeply. She got up, glancing down at her clothes. They were dirty, stained with the grime of the past days, and her hair was a tangled mess. She remembered the woman in her dream—how beautiful she looked despite the dark presence surrounding her. They looked the same, yet nothing alike.
Sighing, Hana tried to fix herself up the best she could, then headed out to the parking area where Nathan told her to meet him. As she stepped out, a young girl lunged forward and hugged her tightly. It was Mime, the same girl from the photographs, her face streaked with tears.
"Thank you… thank you…" Mime murmured over and over again.
Hana's heart softened at the sight. She gently wiped away the girl's tears, smiling warmly. "I'm just glad you're alright," she said.
Mime smiled back, her face brightening, and she ran off to where her parents were waiting. They bowed deeply to Hana, gratitude etched into their expressions as they held their daughter close. Hana's heart felt a small warmth in the sight of their reunion, a fragile ember amidst the darkness.
Later, in Nathan's car, they arrived at her house. Outside, Hana saw a taxi, and an old woman with a cane muttering curses under her breath while her sister Jenna laughed, supporting the woman's weight.
"Mother!" Hana whispered in surprise. She was about to storm over when Nathan spoke.
"I forgot to mention," he said, his tone teasing, "your phone was ringing a lot while you were unconscious."
Caught off guard, Hana blushed. She thanked him, embarrassed. He chuckled softly and added, "Take a week off."
She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off with a shake of his head. "That's an order."
As his car drove away, Hana sighed and turned back to her family. As the taxi began to move, she froze. She hadn't noticed the male presence before because he'd been bent over, paying the driver. Now he stood tall, his eyes wide as he looked at Hana.
Feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, she waved nervously. The man laughed and waved back. Hana's mother and Jenna exchanged amused looks, and her mother called out, "Look at this brat, coming home covered in dirt…."
Knowing her mother's temper, Hana hurried over, taking her by the other elbow. "Come on, Mother. You must be tired."
The old woman pulled her elbow away and looked Hana up and down. "Why are you rolling in dirt? You know what… I don't want to know… Hey! Hans, come help this old woman walk."
"Huh? Hans!" Hana gasped, blinking in complete shock. But everyone ignored her, laughing as they all entered the house, leaving Hana standing outside, lost in a whirlwind of confusion.