Jet returned to his studio apartment, stepping into a space that reflected his balance of order and creativity. Though mostly tidy, a few scattered papers betrayed the late nights spent brainstorming and writing. He walked into the living room, where his hamsters stirred in their cage, their tiny noses twitching as they noticed him.
"You never greet me like that," Jet teased, eyeing the little creatures with mock suspicion. His gaze shifted to their empty food bowl. "Ah, of course. I forgot your breakfast this morning."
Shaking his head at himself, Jet grabbed the bag of pellets, carefully measuring out their portion. The hamsters eagerly scurried to their food, nibbling away as if forgiving him for the disrupted routine. Their enthusiasm drew a small chuckle from him, though his thoughts were elsewhere.
Jet sank into the sofa, scrolling absently through his phone. His eyes skimmed the screen, but his mind replayed fragments of the recurring dream that had plagued him for six months.
'Our hill,' Jet mused, the name drifting unbidden to his thoughts. 'Zhao Han… Han…'
A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he tossed his phone onto the cushion beside him and rubbed his face. The dreams had started innocently enough—a vivid story of another time, another life, where he was an Omega deeply in love with a man named Han. What began as a source of inspiration for his latest novel had spiraled into something unsettling.
Every night, the same scenes played out, haunting him with emotions so strong they lingered even after he woke. He had no idea who Han was, yet his dream-self seemed to know him intimately, trusting him deeply. And worse, Jet couldn't deny the ache in his chest when he woke up, longing for something—or someone—that didn't exist.
'Straight. I'm straight,' he reminded himself for the hundredth time, as if repeating it could anchor him to reality. 'Stop overthinking this.'
Glancing at the hamsters, who continued their peaceful meal, Jet let out a wry laugh.
"I'm losing my mind. What do you guys think? Is there some big cosmic reason I keep dreaming about this Han guy?"
The hamsters paused their chewing briefly to look at him, then went back to their food, utterly unbothered by his existential crisis.
"Great talk," Jet muttered, shaking his head. "I really am going crazy."
Still, the dreams wouldn't let him rest. Grabbing his phone again, Jet typed half-hearted keywords into the search bar: mountains, waterfalls, bamboo forests in Yuvwana. He didn't expect anything to come of it—he'd combed through countless photos and articles before while researching his novel.
But as he scrolled, a particular image caught his eye: a familiar bamboo forest trail.
Jet froze, his heart skipping a beat. 'No way,' he thought, squinting at the screen. 'Don't all bamboo forests look the same?'
Yet, something about this one felt different. The more he stared, the more a faint memory tugged at the edges of his mind. Clicking on the photo, he followed the link to a website about an old village, a preserved slice of history just over an hour's drive from the city.
He scrolled through more photos—a serene pond under a stone bridge, a cascading waterfall, and then…
"That pavilion…" Jet whispered, his voice barely audible. His fingers tightened around the phone as he leaned closer to the screen.
The pavilion was just as he remembered it from the dreams. The elegant arches, the worn wooden planks, the way it seemed to blend seamlessly into the surrounding landscape—it was all there.
The page detailed the village's history, mentioning that it had existed for centuries and that the pavilion was a beloved landmark carefully maintained by the locals for tourists.
'Centuries…' Jet's chest tightened. 'How? Why now? Why am I finding this only after all this time?'
He stared at the screen, a swirl of disbelief and dread washing over him. Months of searching, countless hours spent poring over photos of similar places for his book, and yet this village had never appeared in his results—until now.
"Wake up, Jet," he muttered to himself, trying to shake the unease. "It's just a dream. Nothing more."
But as his eyes lingered on the pavilion, a quiet voice deep inside whispered otherwise. He brushed the voice away, looking at his hamsters, picking up one of them.
"What do you think, Melon?" Jet asked the one in his hand. "Did Peach say anything while you both ate?"
The hamster combed itself in Jet's hand, glancing up at him briefly before scurrying about again. Jet scoffed, placing the little animal back in its enclosure.
Peach, however, remained still, her tiny eyes locked on Jet. She stared at him intently, her fluffy body perched as though deep in thought.
"Do you think I should go to the mountain?" Jet asked with a smirk, his tone lighthearted.
To his surprise, Peach stood upright, balancing herself for a moment. Jet leaned closer, amused by the hamster's apparent contemplation. Then, with a slow and deliberate motion, Peach shook her head.
Jet blinked, momentarily stunned, before bursting into laughter. "Really, Peach? A no? You're worse than Melon. Why did I even ask?" He shook his head, still chuckling as he closed the hamster enclosure.
Yet, as he returned to his seat, the laughter faded. His gaze drifted back to the screen of his phone, the photo of the pavilion still there. The bamboo forest, the trail, the waterfall—all of it felt so vividly familiar.
Jet sighed, leaning back against the sofa, taking off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. "It's just a coincidence," he muttered, though the words sounded hollow even to him.
The soft scratching of Melon and Peach in their enclosure filled the room, an almost comforting rhythm. But the photo on the screen seemed to pull at something deep within Jet, like a thread being gently tugged, unraveling a part of him he didn't even know was there.
He closed his eyes, willing the strange feelings away. 'It's just a dream, he thought firmly. Dreams don't mean anything.'
But then, as the minutes ticked by, the quiet pull grew stronger, like a tide he couldn't fight. He opened his eyes, sat up, and stared at the screen again.
Without overthinking, he grabbed his jacket, wallet, and keys. "Alright, fine," he muttered, pulling on his shoes. "Let's see what this is all about."
Peach squeaked softly as he headed for the door. Jet glanced back at her. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you miss me."
With that, he stepped outside, the crisp evening air wrapping around him as he set off. The mountain—their mountain—was waiting.