The school day was finally over. As Nam packed his bag, his only friend, Acchi, approached him with an eager expression. His bag was already slung over his shoulder, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
Acchi wore a neatly buttoned navy blue shirt, matching pants, and brown shoes. He placed a hand on Nam's desk, flashing a hopeful smile.
"Can I come over?"
—"No."
Acchi's smile faltered, but the light in his eyes didn't fade.
"Okay… what about tomorrow?"
His voice was light, playful even, but there was an underlying tension—an exhaustion from hearing the same answer over and over.
—"No."
"Then… how about the weekend?"
Nam's patience thinned.
"I said no. I have things to do."
"Ugh, fine."
With a dramatic sigh, Acchi turned on his heel and waved as he walked away.
Nam didn't respond. He simply watched him go, then slung his bag over his shoulder and left.
As he walked home, an old memory surfaced—one he wished would stay buried.
People had always told him that his eyes were unsettling. At first, he hadn't cared. But then, one day, his childhood friend had taken a step back. The look in their eyes—fear.
That moment had burned itself into his mind. No matter how much time passed, he couldn't forget it.
By the time he reached home, the memory still lingered like a shadow.
His mother, Lenora, was in the kitchen, most likely watching the news on her phone. A faint voice from the news anchor drifted through the house.
"Is that you, Nam?" she called out.
"Yeah," he replied.
As he stepped inside, his gaze landed on something unfamiliar—a necklace sitting on the table.
"Did you just get this?"
His mother looked up.
"Your brother bought it. He said it's an antique."
Nam didn't dwell on it. Instead, he headed straight to his room.
The space was simple. Two beds—one on the left, one on the right. His bed was next to a small desk cluttered with textbooks, a lamp, and scattered papers. His brother's side, however, was packed with books.
Slinging his bag to the floor, Nam let out a quiet sigh. This was where he spent most of his time. Occasionally, he spoke to his family or played games with Acchi, but more than anything, he preferred reading and drawing.
After changing, he sat at his desk and unlocked his phone. His wallpaper was nothing but a plain apple.
"What should I do?"
Every day felt the same. Nothing exciting ever happened.
His eyes drifted to the sketchbook.
"Maybe I should draw something…"
Tapping his fingers against the wooden surface, he muttered, "What should I draw?"
Then, a thought struck him.
"That dream… should I draw it?"
He hesitated.
"Or should I just forget about it?"
But something about it gnawed at him. The dream had felt too real.
His grip on the pencil tightened.
"Maybe if I draw it… I can make sense of it."
He flipped open the sketchbook, turning past old sketches until he reached a blank page.
And then, he began.
—
The Dream
He stood behind a door.
Sunlight streamed through the cracks, casting long shadows on the floor. Dust floated in the air, shimmering like tiny stars.
He couldn't move.
The door was slightly open—just enough for him to see inside.
A familiar figure sat on the floor, playing with a toy. An older relative.
But there was someone else in the room.
A presence.
"Who is that?"
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see their face.
His body felt heavy. Completely unresponsive.
A terrifying thought crossed his mind.
"Am I paralyzed?"
Even blinking felt like a struggle.
Then—everything shifted.
A strange sensation washed over him. His body shrank.
Small hands. A tiny frame.
A child.
"This… isn't my voice."
The words spilling from his lips weren't his own.
The things he was saying—no child should be able to say them.
"What's happening to me?"
With great effort, he turned toward the door
But the figure—the one who had been there just moments ago—was gone.
A chill ran down his spine.
And then—
Nam jolted awake, his pencil digging into the page.
His heart pounded.
"That dream… what does it mean?"