The sun spilled across the glass towers of Seoul, gilding the morning rush in gold.
The streets humd with life where buses hissed, cars rumbled, and the faint chatter of pedestrians filled the air.
Amid the crowd, a man walked with a calm, almost nostalgic air.
His black hair, slightly unkempt with bangs that brushed his eyes frad his eyes.
He wore a white tucked-in shirt, neatly pressed, paired with black pants giving him the air of soone on his way to work or getting out of work.
A black leather bag hung over his shoulder, its strap worn and frayed, as if he had it for many years and was the only thing he clung to.
He stepped through the automated doors of a place called The Hub, a café popular among young professionals.
The aroma of roasted beans and the low hum of jazz washed over him as he entered.
At a corner table, a man waved enthusiastically, his smile as bright as the morning light.
"Kim Hajun! Over here!"
Kim blinked once, then smiled faintly.
He walked over, the bag sliding off his shoulder as he sat across from his friend.
Two cups sat on the table, steam rising lazily from them.
"Wassup, In-Soo..."
"Long ti no see," In-Soo said, his grin softening.
"What's it been? Two years?"
"Almost three," Hajun replied.
"You've barely changed."
"That's because I have good skincare, unlike you."
They both laughed quietly, the kind of laughter that cos from long familiarity.
The conversation flowed easily at first from small talk about jobs, bills, the rising cost of coffee, and how the city had changed since the reconstruction years.
Hajun ntioned his boring office job at a logistics firm; In-Soo teased him about how the once great Kim Hajun now worked behind a desk.
"Yeah, well," Hajun said with a faint grin, "everyone needs rent money, right?"
"Fair enough," In-Soo chuckled.
The light outside shifted, painting the café windows with a warm afternoon glow.
Their conversation slowed, lingering in the comfortable silence of old friends.
Hajun's fingers drumd lightly against the table before he finally spoke again.
"Soo... uuhh... do you sotis have these thoughts or weird feelings from that ti?"
In-Soo raised an eyebrow.
"That ti?"
"You know..."
Hajun's voice trailed off as his eyes drifted toward the window.
"Back when...the world shifted."
In-Soo leaned back in his chair.
"Can't say I do.
Why?"
Hajun exhaled slowly.
"I woke up from the craziest dream ever."
"Oh?"
In-Soo said, his grin returning.
"Well, tell about it."
And so, Hajun began to speak.
His hands moving, gestures flowing as he tried to explain sothing indescribable.
His eyes flickered with traces of emotion such as confusion, awe and sadness.
Though his words ca in fragnts, his passion painted vivid images... of the things he felt like he really experienced them.
He spoke as if he had lived lifetis elsewhere.
In-Soo listened, arms crossed, nodding slowly, the teasing grin gone now.
When Hajun finally finished, his chest rose and fell with a faint tremor.
The café noise returned ...soft chatter, coffee cups clinking grounding him back to reality.
"Whoa..."
In-Soo finally said.
"Man, what a dream you had."
He blinked, half in disbelief.
"All that really happened?"
Kim Hajun gave a nod.
"I don't know...that's kinda too detailed to be a dream, Kim."
In-Soo said.
"That's why I was asking you if you get these thoughts, feelings or weird dreams...
I an considering the fact how the world was a decade ago...that could interfere with ones consciousness right?"
Kim Hajun muttered.
In-Soo leaned forward, his tone thoughtful.
"I an... you could be onto sothing...the gates did cause alot of changes and phenonona....seeing from what you said like you were in this other world...the energy from gates from a decade ago could still be lingering in our air today...but really unlikely..."
But In-Soo frowned slightly, rembering.
"Wait... I thought it was stared that you lost your mories from our ti at the Recon Division...
You know, because of the trauma?"
Hajun went quiet. His gaze dropped to the glass in his hands, the condensation trailing over his fingers.
"Oh... yeah," he murmured softly.
For a mont, neither spoke.
"You know," Hajun said finally.
"you're the only one I have left from that team, In-Soo."
In-Soo smiled faintly, though there was sadness in it.
"I know, Kim."
"That's why... you're the only one I can talk to about these things."
Hajun's voice trembled slightly.
"Sotis I feel like I've lived more than my years... done unimaginable things."
"I an, of course you have!"
"You were the backbone of the 7th Recon Division that saved humanity across gates more tis than I can count.
But if you're story or dream was really true...it wouldn't make sense...
You said you caused a war and killed millions like so villain...
...You? a villain and disheartened man? In a ga u used to play no less...that's bullshit...."
Hajun looked up, eting his friend's eyes.
"You're the kindest person I know, Kim!"
In-Soo said firmly.
"So it really is just a dream. Don't think much of it.
You're here now, aren't you?"
Hajun exhaled a soft laugh.
"I guess you're right... thanks, Soo."
In-Soo raised his glass, clinking it lightly against Hajun's.
"As the team used to say — Living is the best thing one can be offered. So you have to keep living, Kim... at least for ."
Hajun smiled, that quiet, worn-out kind of smile that carried years of stories untold.
In-Soo leaned back again.
"Honestly, I think it's ti you get a wife or sothing.
You're starting to lose your mind."
In-Soo laughed then Kim Hajun laughed as well.
Their laughter echoed softly through the café.
The sunlight through the window had shifted again, now warm and gold, casting long shadows across the table.
Hajun looked outside... people walking, children laughing, the rhythm of life steady and peaceful.
He sipped the last of his drink and smiled faintly.
"If that really was a dream..." he said softly, "then it was the best dream I've had in a while..."
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