I found myself in a spacious room, one side of which was entirely mirrored. I could see my reflection, as well as those of the people standing in a line next to me. I didn’t know them, but I could certainly recognize the person I was here for. He was walking toward us, occasionally gesturing with his hands to draw our attention to him. His brown hair reached his eyes, and from time to time, he would slick it back so it wouldn’t bother him, but it was amusing because it automatically returned to its previous shape.

“I know that each of you will find it difficult to perform your part in the show, but I believe I can teach you how to succeed.” The man stood still, momentarily locking his gaze with mine, a spark igniting between us.

“I have high expectations, and I know I won’t be disappointed.” He smiled, raising his hands and clapping, filling the entire room with sound, echoing in my chest like the drumbeat of anticipation.

“Each of you will dance to a specific theme. I do not accept objections; whatever theme I give you, that’s what you will learn choreography for.” The man moved slowly, making his way to the dressing rooms, briefly hiding from our view. He soon returned with a notebook and a long wooden stick, which startled not only me but many others in the room. However, our fantasies were quickly shattered when the man began using it to move, guiding us with a fluidity that made the air shimmer.

“There are two rules here. One is this: if I hear anyone comment on my condition or doubt my abilities, they will be expelled. Everyone who has come here knows why they are exactly here. The second rule is that you must do whatever I tell you. I do not accept objections.” He said, and once he was sure everyone was watching and listening, he continued, his voice laced with authority.

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and after reviewing your portfolios, I’ve managed to categorize you.” The man returned to the front of the group, opened the notebook, and began to read aloud the names of the people in the group, introducing them to the themes they would be performing.

Everything felt too realistic, just like every semi-reality I had experienced so far. They had nothing in common, and that was exactly what scared me the most.

“Keith Hyun.” I heard my name, and my attention turned to the boy with brown-colored hair, his smile igniting a warmth in my chest.

“Yes, it’s me!” I cleared my throat before speaking, receiving a smile from the other side that felt like a light cutting through my confusion.

“Love, Keith. This is your theme.” He said, handing me the sheet he held between his fingers, the words spinning in my mind.

“Love?” I repeated his words, looking at the sheet with confusion that churned in my stomach.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, of course not. I just don’t understand it.” I felt the weight of his gaze as it bore into me, searching for an answer I didn’t have.

The man smiled as he approached and gestured for me to sit on the bench behind me. In seconds, we were alone, and the rest of the world faded into a blur.

“Let me tell you something I read recently.  

*‘As a child, I didn’t understand how love could hurt you. I loved the things that made me happy and avoided those that made me cry. But I started to grow up, and with each passing day, I began to realize that adults were right. There’s nothing more painful than love. Even when it stings, I continue to chase it. I hold it in my hands until my fingers begin to bleed. When I let it go, I forget about the blood. I only remember the warmth. We love unconditionally. It’s such a tragic yet beautiful thing.’” Jin Woo spoke slowly, his eyes closed as he quoted, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

“Love is something very strange, but it’s also something no one can live without. There are different forms, and you are the only one who will decide which one to perceive it as.” Jin Woo smiled, and I pondered his words, occasionally glancing in the mirror, where I saw him—his presence both comforting and haunting.

Seoho was leaning against the doorframe, looking straight at me without saying anything. I turned my head, looking at the oak door next to me, but there was no one there. I could only see him in the reflection of the mirror.

I slowly stood up from my place, taking slow steps toward the mirror as Seoho followed each of my steps, mimicking them. The tension in the air was palpable, a delicate thread connecting us. When I reached the glass, I slowly placed my hand on it, and the man did the same. The mirror was cold, but I could feel the warmth coming from Seoho. I couldn’t see through it; on the contrary, it felt like a barrier that amplified the connection between us.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a gentle caress against my confusion.

“I don’t understand. First Baeck, then the death of Young-Ji, and now this. A calmness I’ve never had before. What am I supposed to understand? What am I missing?” I began to ask questions, my voice shaky as I felt the walls of my mind begin to crumble.

To my surprise, Seoho slowly moved his hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, the barrier of the mirror disappearing completely. The touch ignited something deep within me, a rush of longing that made my heart race.

“To remember. You’re missing remembering. You need time, but you will start to connect the dots; things will begin to make sense, I promise.” The man smiled, and a gentle song filled the room, instinctively making me sway to the rhythm, lost in the cadence of our connection.

“What do I need to remember?” I breathed, the words trembling on my lips, carrying a weight I didn’t fully comprehend.

“No, Keith. It’s not something; it’s more like someone.” His eyes sparkled with a knowing glimmer, as if he held the secrets of the universe just beneath the surface.

“Someone?” I asked curiously, as Seoho moved my hand to his waist, leading the dance. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he leaned in, inviting me into a space that felt both safe and terrifying.

“Yes. Someone who is waiting for you.” The truth in his words echoed like a melody, wrapping around us.

“And you? Do you have someone who’s waiting for you?” My heart raced as I leaned into the moment, wanting to know more about the depths of his feelings.

“I’m waiting for him. I will be alone if I can’t be with him. I hold on because I love him, and when I tell him, he doesn’t believe it. Can you imagine? Even so, I’ve never stopped saying it. He is everything to me. He is more than every sunrise, more than every shining star in the sky, the beauty in this broken world. He has always been enough. His love gives me strength, and my fear evaporates only when I whisper his name. I fell in love with him the way I fall asleep. Slowly, and then all at once.” The man spoke, moving his body to the rhythm, leading me along, our movements a tapestry woven from shared emotions.

“He is the one I think of early in the morning, the one I think of as I fall asleep. I miss his voice, his laughter, and his touch. I miss him like a desert misses the rain. Every time I think of him, I just want to be with him again and again, and while it’s time to hold him in my arms again, I’ll hold him in my heart. I will wait for you to see me. I will wait for you to remember. I will pray that our end is different.” Seoho pressed his forehead against mine, and my body did not resist, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around us like a silken thread.

I did not reject his words or his touch. I cried out for more, but I didn’t understand. My heart begged me to cry, to let my tears flow, and surrender, while my mind set boundaries, relying on the idea that everything would simply pass, that I didn’t need it.

“I knew it…” I whispered softly, and the man before me laughed for a moment, the sound filled with a bittersweet understanding.

“What do you know?” he asked, his tone teasing yet sincere.

“You’re not my subconscious. I knew it from the very beginning, but somehow I wanted to believe you.” The realization hit me like a wave, overwhelming yet liberating.

“That’s right. I’m not. Unfortunately, however, I can’t tell you anything more. I can only guide you.” His eyes twinkled with the light of hidden truths, enticing me to follow.

“Is that why you’re here?” I questioned, my heart racing as I sought clarity.

“And that is also part of it, but the truth is, I can only meet you here. Here, I can make you see me and remember. The things that are happening are not coincidences, Keith. They matter, but as I said, it will take time for you to understand.” The man ran his fingers through my hair, grounding me in the moment.

“But for now, just follow your heart. I have always been closer than you ever imagined. The truth is also close, but reaching it is extremely difficult, unfortunately.” Seoho

 held my body tightly, a warmth that enveloped me as I heard his last words before he completely disappeared, leaving behind an echo of his presence.

“Find me, and I promise you, then I will tell you everything.” His voice lingered in the air, a promise that hung like a note unresolved.

“Keith, oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” I heard Jin Woo’s voice, who hugged me, his smile reaching the heavens, and I couldn’t even return to him; a brief shock enveloped my whole body, the warmth of the moment contrasted sharply with my swirling thoughts.

“What happened?” I whispered, confusion wrapping around me like a shroud, and Jin Woo patted my shoulder, his touch grounding me in the chaos.

“You performed excellently; I haven’t seen choreography like that in a long time. You moved as if you were flying. As if you weren’t alone on stage. But this isn’t the first time I’ve seen this phenomenon. I’ve experienced it myself too. My first dance was on this stage, and he was there with me. The one who ignited everything inside me. The one I started dancing for. To this day, I do it with passion, and it’s because of him.” The boy spoke with a smile as I listened carefully to his words. I didn’t want to miss anything that could cost me a lot in the future.

“Happy birthday, Keith.” The man said, raising his voice as he clapped his hands, and the main black figures gathered around me, two of which I could already recognize, forming a circle of warmth and encouragement.

Those of Jin Woo and Baeck were at the front. Probably Young-Ji’s figure would also be here, but because of the mistake I made, I couldn’t see him or remember his expression. I only remembered his name. I hoped for a second chance; I knew that if I got it, I would probably have to sacrifice something. I was ready to do it at the first opportunity.

As for Seoho's words, they were etched deep in my mind, an indelible ink that traced the contours of my heart. I would not forget the feeling I had while listening to him, the sensation in which my heart thumped in my chest, the way it felt like he was dancing in rhythm with my soul. With those thoughts, I returned to my reality. Wherever I wanted to be, I would not be able to see Seoho.