Minjae sat cross-legged on the cold floor of his room, the lights off, the cracked mirror propped upright against the wall. His hands trembled slightly as he unfolded the note once more.
Seo Jiwoo.
The name carved into fog, echoed in his dreams, whispered by the faceless woman, etched into blood-ink.
He stared at the letters.
Was this her? Was this the girl haunting his days and watching through his nights?
⸻
He whispered it.
"Seo Jiwoo…"
The room shifted.
Not violently—subtly.
The air grew dense, as if soaked in fog. The light from the streetlamp outside flickered through the curtains, warping like it was underwater.
The cracked mirror vibrated faintly.
He leaned closer.
Then the crack widened—spider-webbing further, but not shattering.
From the deepest point of the crack, red light began to seep out.
Like veins pulsing in reverse.
Minjae's breath caught in his throat.
Then—her voice again.
"You said it wrong."
The light vanished.
⸻
He reeled back, heart pounding.
What did she mean?
Wrong? But he said the name exactly as it was written.
No. Wait.
It wasn't about how he said it. It was about what he believed.
The name alone wasn't enough.
He had to remember her. Not just say her name—mean it.
Feel it.
But there were no memories. No clear images. Only fragments, dreams, a sense of déjà vu. Not enough.
And yet… something stirred.
A scent.
Lavender and rain.
A single image flickered behind his eyelids.
A girl standing on a rooftop at sunset. Crying.
Hugging him.
Whispering something he couldn't hear—then smiling through the tears.
Was that real?
⸻
📲💬
From Unknown
Almost.
But memory is not recitation.
It's resurrection.
💬
Minjae didn't reply.
He looked up—and saw something new in the mirror.
This time, her reflection stood directly behind him.
But she was… realer. Clearer.
Long black hair. Pale skin. A red ribbon in her hair.
She looked about his age.
And in her hand—a silver thread.
It extended from her chest, and looped around Minjae's neck—soft, glowing faintly. Binding them.
He turned around—
Nothing behind him.
He turned back to the mirror—
She raised a finger to her lips.
"Don't speak it again until you mean it."
⸻
The thread vanished.
And so did she.
⸻
The next morning, he avoided campus. Even his job.
He wandered into Cheongdam district instead, drawn by something he couldn't explain.
There, across the street from a luxury boutique—
He saw a woman exit a building.
A tall woman in a black suit and heels. Elegantly composed.
Long black hair. A red ribbon.
She paused, glanced directly at him—then smiled.
Not politely.
Not curiously.
But intimately.
Like she already owned him.
Then she turned and disappeared into a waiting car.
His heart felt like it had stopped.
⸻
He stood there for minutes.
Motionless.
That wasn't a dream.
That wasn't a memory.
That was her.
In the real world.
⸻
When he returned home, Mirae noticed the change.
"You didn't go to school again?" she asked from the kitchen, voice light but tense.
"I… needed air."
"You've been acting strange, Minjae."
He didn't answer.
She turned to him.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
He smiled faintly. "Maybe I have."
Mirae stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"You're not in any kind of trouble… are you?"
Minjae hesitated.
"I don't know yet."
⸻
That night, he didn't go to sleep.
He sat in front of the mirror again.
He held the note.
And for the first time—he tried to remember the girl not as a haunting, but as someone real.
Her laugh.
The feel of her hand.
The sunset rooftop.
Her tears.
The red ribbon.
He whispered again, voice softer.
"Seo Jiwoo."
Nothing shattered.
But the mirror cleared.
And this time—there were two reflections.
Him.
And her.
⸻
Her lips moved.
But there was no sound.
Then the words appeared in the fog on the glass:
"You gave me your name once. I gave you mine. But now they've forgotten us both."
Minjae leaned in.
"Who… are you to me?"
Another message formed beneath the first:
"Your promise."
⸻
A/N:
The thread between Minjae and his mysterious watcher tightens. With each utterance, he draws closer to the truth—and to her. The name Seo Jiwoo may not just be a clue, but a key to a promise made and broken in a life buried by time. But can Minjae fully resurrect a memory erased by fate?