Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Echo of Names

Soojin didn’t tell Minji about the dream.

Not yet.

As they walked out of the music room, the soft echo of her own melody still lingered in her mind — like a song that had been waiting for years to be played again.

“You’re really good,” Minji said as they stepped into the hallway. “Like… professional level.”

Soojin shrugged. “I guess I just… feel things through music.”

Minji gave her a long look. “You say stuff like that like it’s normal. But it’s not. You’re not normal, Soojin.”

She paused. “And that’s a good thing.”

Soojin smiled faintly but didn’t respond.

They parted ways at the school gates, and Soojin began the quiet walk home. The sky was painted in warm oranges and purples, and the air smelled like spring rain. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and let herself get lost in thought.

The dream had felt too real.

Too familiar.

She remembered standing under a crescent moon, grass damp beneath her feet. Someone had called her name — not “Soojin,” but something else. Something older.

She couldn’t remember what it was.

But the voice…

It belonged to someone she once knew.

Someone who might still be waiting.

A sudden gust of wind caught her by surprise, tugging at her scarf and scattering the pages of her journal. She hurried to gather them, muttering apologies to no one in particular.

Then she heard it.

“Yoon Soojin.”

She froze.

Not just any voice — this one sent a shiver down her spine.

Standing a few feet away was a boy she hadn’t seen before.

Tall, pale, with ash-brown hair and silver-gray eyes that seemed to glow in the fading light. He wore the school uniform, but there was something about him that didn’t quite fit — like he belonged to another time.

“I’m Lee Seokjin,” he said, stepping forward. “We’ve met before.”

Soojin stared at him.

Her heart pounded.

He looked at her like he already knew her.

Like he had been waiting for her to return.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “How do you know me?”

Seokjin tilted his head slightly. “You don’t remember yet. But you will.”

He reached out, gently handing her a fallen page from her journal.

On it was a sketch she hadn’t drawn — a boy with silver eyes, standing beneath a crescent moon.

Just like in her dream.

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End of chapter