Their sunken gaze drifted toward the teddy bear on the desk. The small brown plush, worn with ti, looked old and slightly grimy. So of its seams had co undone, and one of its button eyes had fallen off, giving it a sowhat pitiful appearance.
The junior stood there, clutching their bag, staring at the bear for a long ti. Anyone else would tell them to throw it away, but they simply couldn’t bring themselves to do it. The mories tied to that small bear made it impossible to discard.
"Sweetie, aren’t you going to school?"
A knock at the door, followed by a voice: "Your friends are waiting for you."
Snapping out of their trance, the junior quickly slung their bag over their shoulder. This wasn’t the ti to space out.
"I'm coming!"
Hurrying out of their room, they found a group waiting in the living room. One of them was Min-ji, their senior from the library club, and the other three were the male seniors they had t for the first ti yesterday. It was an awkward combination, but no one seed particularly uncomfortable.
"Co visit again, okay?"
Their mother seed quite fond of the guests. Considering how lifeless the junior had been lately, she was likely just happy to see them engaging in anything at all. The mont they had ntioned bringing friends over, she had welcod the idea with open arms.
"We’ll co again!"
"Thank you for having us."
"Goodbye!"
"...Goodbye."
The junior glanced at the shortest of the male seniors who had just bowed in farewell—Kim Mu-ryeong. Min-ji had introduced him as soone like a problem solver. Apparently, he could see ghosts. But he didn’t look like soone with such an ability at all.
What could soone like him possibly solve? That had been their first thought. His round, youthful face made him seem soft and timid. If anything, the taller senior standing behind him looked far more like the kind of person who could see ghosts.
"Kim Mu-ryeong, were you in my room last night?"
"Yeah. You were sleeping soundly."
"Wow, I didn’t hear a thing."
His gentle, rounded eyes drooped slightly at the corners. When he smiled, they curled like crescent moons, reminiscent of a timid puppy. He had hands and feet bigger than theirs, but even so, he was far from being big.
Cute, maybe. But trustworthy? Not really. That had been the impression at first.
Of course, that perception had done a complete 180 the mont they made eye contact with him.
"You’re more comfortable with fewer people around, right?"
His light brown eyes were strikingly clear. His gaze was so steady and sincere that it almost made them feel guilty for doubting him.
That was why, when he suggested going ho, they had readily agreed. Min-ji was with them, their parents were ho—it seed like the safest option. They hadn’t expected everyone to tag along, but the seniors had been kind enough to help, despite the hassle.
"So, how was the sleep paralysis?"
At Min-ji’s question, Mu-ryeong turned to the junior. They hesitated under his gaze before responding, slightly awkward.
"Uh... Last night was fine."
They thought they had felt sothing pressing down on them for a mont, but strangely enough, they had slept well. It was refreshing, yet at the sa ti... oddly empty.
Min-ji’s mouth fell open in amazent.
"Wow, Kim Mu-ryeong, you’re incredible."
"It’s not over yet."
Mu-ryeong’s voice was calm.
Strangely enough, those words were reassuring.
As the junior let out a quiet sigh, Mu-ryeong gently suggested,
"If you're okay with it, can we talk alone for a bit?"
***
The two of them headed to the library in the annex. The junior was on duty for the library club today, and the place was empty, making it the perfect spot to talk.
Mu-ryeong silently followed them inside, glancing up at the sign above the entrance.
[Haeyeon’s Dream]
The junior stood on tiptoes, using the key Min-ji had given them to unlock the door. The lock was positioned high up, so shorter club mbers often struggled with it.
The scent of books imdiately filled the air. The junior quickly opened the windows, letting in the humid heat of early sumr.
"...What are you doing?"
Mu-ryeong stood in front of the ‘S’ section, staring blankly at the bookshelf. When the junior approached to see what he was up to, he took out two books and swapped their positions. Then he grinned and shrugged.
"The order was wrong."
He must have noticed from the catalog numbers on the spines.
Co to think of it, a few months ago, there had been a strange incident where the books were mysteriously rearranged every morning. Mu-ryeong had apparently been the one who solved it.
The more they learned about him, the more curious they beca.
They sat down at the table in the center of the library. At this ti of day, few students ever ca to the annex, so the atmosphere was quiet and still.
In that silence, Mu-ryeong suddenly spoke.
"I have a dog."
"...What?"
"Wanna see a picture?"
Without really thinking, the junior nodded. Whatever it was, if he was offering to show it, they figured they might as well take a look.
Mu-ryeong pulled out his phone and showed them a picture of a gentle-looking dog.
"This is Seolgi. He’s twelve years old this year."
"Oh, he’s adorable..."
Twelve years old. That would be over seventy in human years. But he didn’t look old at all. His fluffy fur and round, black eyes were full of life.
Apparently, Mu-ryeong thought the sa, because he smiled faintly and said,
"Isn’t he cute? To , he still feels like a puppy. But the vet keeps reminding
he’s old. He used to go on five walks a day, but now he can only manage three... And he doesn’t eat as much as he used to. Last year, I kept giving him sweet potatoes because he liked them so much, but he just ended up gaining weight."
Every single one of Mu-ryeong’s rambling words sank into their heart. As he spoke with a faint smile, his expression faltered, brows drawing together slightly.
"Anyway, the reason I showed you this...."
His sentence trailed off. The junior could easily guess that this was where the real conversation began. Mu-ryeong rolled his eyes slightly, as if carefully choosing his words, then looked directly at them.
"I just want you to know that what I’m about to say isn’t
carelessly talking about soone else’s problem."
A tense feeling settled in their chest. Whatever he was about to say, it had to be related to the photo of Seolgi. The mont the junior nodded, confirming they were listening, Mu-ryeong’s expression darkened slightly, his gaze falling.
"I really can see ghosts."
"...Really?"
"Yeah. Really. But Min-ji doesn’t know."
It was hard to believe, yet sohow, they trusted him without question. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem like the type to lie. Or maybe it was because his gaze was too pure to doubt.
As they blinked in stunned silence, Mu-ryeong continued speaking in a quiet, gentle tone.
"Last night, I saw a dog in your house."
"......."
For a mont, everything stopped.
The world around them turned muffled, as if soone had plugged their ears. Before they could even process whether or not to believe his words, Mu-ryeong spread his hands apart, estimating a rough size.
"It was a small black dog, about this big."
There was no need to ask further.
They already knew exactly who he was talking about.
"Ah..."
A soft, shaky breath escaped. Their head dropped forward, overwheld by a mix of emotions they ?? Nоvеl??g??t ?? (Official version) couldn’t put into words.
They should have asked—what was the dog doing? Did it have anything to do with their sleep paralysis? But the words wouldn’t co.
"I know this might be hard to believe..."
"No."
"......"
"No... I believe you. That you saw them."
Anyone could see that Mu-ryeong wasn’t lying. And from what little they knew about him, he didn’t seem like the type to joke about sothing like this.
The real issue was that if they let their guard down, their emotions would collapse completely.
"Last month..."
They barely managed to start speaking, but the rest of the words wouldn’t co. Their hands clenched into fists, head bowed. Even though there was nothing in front of them, the table blurred in their vision.
"...Last month, they crossed the Rainbow Bridge."
Their voice was strained, each word forced out. If they said the na out loud, they knew they would break down completely. Even now, the sobs they had desperately been holding back threatened to spill over.
"...I’m sorry. I lied about sothing."
"Did you experience anything else during sleep paralysis?"
"The truth is... I see them in my dreams."
"......."
"Every ti I have sleep paralysis, they appear."
Every night. Without fail.
The mont they closed their eyes, that was what they saw.
They circled at the foot of the bed, sniffing the air. Licked their palms, wagged their tail. Always appearing in the healthiest, happiest form they had ever been.
"I lived with them for seventeen years. I’m seventeen now. That ans we spent our entire lives together."
They had been there since before they could even form mories. A sibling. A child. A lifelong companion. Every mont of growing up had been spent together—until one day, the growing stopped, and only one of them was left.
"But they were gone in an instant...."
The fear of losing them had always been there. Ever since they turned ten, they could see them aging. By fifteen, their eyesight had begun to fail. Even their favorite teddy bear had beco sothing they only kept beside them, too tired to play with it anymore.
"I never even got to say thank you...."
Drip.
Tears splattered onto the table. They hadn’t even blinked, yet their vision blurred as drops fell like raindrops, soaking into the wood.
Their lips parted, but the only sound that escaped was a choked sob.
"I should have done more."
Regrets surfaced by the dozens, hundreds, thousands.
I shouldn’t have given so many treats. I should have bought better food. I should have taken them to the vet more often. I should have played with them more when they wanted to.
Even though they knew death was inevitable, the weight of regret was suffocating.
"I made too many mistakes..."
Maybe that was why they were experiencing sleep paralysis. Maybe that was why they kept seeing them in their dreams. Maybe it was because they had done too little.
Maybe the dog’s soul was still lingering, unable to leave because of them.
And yet, they hadn’t said any of this out loud.
Because they didn’t want anyone else to judge their grief.
"That must be why... they can’t move on to sowhere better."
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