"Painting another one? This looks good," he said, looking at the canvas.
"Yeah," I replied softly, dipping the paintbrush into the crimson paint.
"Who is that person against the tree?" he asked.
I looked at him and then back at my work, trying to guess who that person in my painting was.
"I don't know," I said simply.
"You don't know… then why paint it?" he asked.
I gazed closely at the painted figure. His left hand was holding his body up to keep from falling. He was covered in scarlet blood, a sword clenched tightly in his right fist.
He seemed to be leaning against a peony tree, using it to support himself. His head had fallen forward, as if he were exhausted—too exhausted to stand any longer.
Scarlet blood slowly dripped from the tip of his sword.
Then I remembered why I was painting it.
Last night, I had a dream that felt too real to be just a dream—as if it were a memory from another time.
I tried to recall everything, but only one image stayed with me: a wounded man beneath a peony tree.
No matter how hard I tried, the rest of the dream remained lost in the shadows of my mind.
I sighed before answering, "I painted it because I saw it in a dream last night."
"A dream?" he said, glancing back at the canvas.
He studied the figure beneath the peony tree for a moment, his eyes tracing the sword and the blood dripping from it.
"Your dreams are getting more detailed," he said lightly.
I shrugged, dipping the brush into the crimson paint again.
"Yeah… they always feel strangely real."
For a while, neither of us spoke. The room was quiet except for the soft sound of the brush moving across the canvas.
I leaned closer to the painting, adding another stroke near the sword.
Suddenly, I paused.
Something about the painting felt… different.
I frowned slightly and looked closer at the blood dripping from the sword.
For a brief moment,I felt as if I had seen that sword somewhere before.
I leaned closer to the canvas, studying the weapon carefully.
"The… lotus symbol?" I whispered.
A small lotus was carved into the hilt of the sword.
Something about it felt painfully familiar, though I couldn't remember why.
"Lotus?" he said quietly.
For a brief second, a cold chill ran down my spine when I heard his voice.
I nodded slowly, my eyes still fixed on the symbol carved into the sword.
"Yeah… right here," I said, pointing at the small mark on the hilt.
He leaned closer to the canvas, studying it carefully.
"Strange," he murmured.
I tilted my head slightly. "What is?"
He shook his head lightly and stepped back.
"Nothing," he said after a pause. "It just looks very detailed for something from a dream."
I looked back at the painting again.
The wounded man beneath the peony tree, the blood dripping from the sword… and the lotus symbol carved into the hilt.
The more I stared at it, the stronger the strange feeling inside my chest became.
It felt less like something I had imagined…
and more like something I had seen before.
"But that's just like you," he said with a small shrug, crossing his arms. "Turning your dreams into paintings."
"That's true. I started doing this when I was… eighteen," I said quietly, dipping the crimson-stained brush into the water and watching the red color slowly spread.
"By the way, let's go for a walk this evening," he said, cracking his neck from side to side.
"Mm… okay," I replied.
When I finished washing and organizing the brushes, my gaze suddenly stopped on him. Something in my sixth sense made me look up.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.
He waited for more than thirty seconds before answering my question.
Then he spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.
"Did. You. Forget. It?"
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
"The magical words from someone who owes me."
I stared at him for a moment before finally giving in.
"Thank you, Your Highness," I said sarcastically.
"Thank you for your thank you," he said with a satisfied nod.
"Satisfied now?" I asked.
"Very," he said with a small grin.
I placed the cleaned brush beside the others and wiped my hands with a cloth.
Last night, on our way back from the party, I had fallen asleep in the car.
When I woke up, I was already in my own room.
He must have carried me there. I was probably half asleep the whole time.
Knowing him, he might have just dragged me in and dumped me on the bed.
Still, he had the decency to take off my shoes first.
I sighed.
***
"Pretty catchy," he said, taking a picture of the clouds.
The evening sky was slowly turning shades of orange and violet. Soft clouds drifted lazily above us while the last rays of sunlight spread across the park.
A cool breeze passed through the trees, carrying the quiet sounds of people talking and leaves rustling.
The whole place felt peaceful.
We kept walking, though our styles were completely different.
Whenever something caught his attention, he would rush over and take a picture of it. If the photo didn't turn out the way he wanted, he would mutter under his breath, "Useless camera."
Yet even after blaming the poor thing, he continued using it—because it was his favorite camera.
"So, remember anything from your dream?" he asked, lowering his camera.
"Not much," I replied. "Just a flash… like a memory trying to come back."
"What was it?" he asked.
"Nothing much," I said after a moment. "Just a lotus symbol on the hilt of the sword."
I paused before continuing.
"I just feel like I've seen it somewhere before."
He didn't reply right away.
Just then, a sudden gust of wind passed through the trees, making the leaves rustle loudly.
For a brief second, an unfamiliar chill ran down my spine again.
I turned around instinctively, feeling as if someone had been watching us.
But when I looked back, there was no one there.
Just a narrow path stretching through the park and a few people walking in the distance.
For a moment, everything seemed completely normal.
"Hey," he called from a few steps ahead of me. "What are you staring at?"
"Nothing," I replied, though I wasn't fully convinced myself.
He tilted his head slightly. "You look like you just saw a ghost."
I let out a small breath and shook my head.
"Maybe I'm just tired."
But as I turned forward again, my eyes caught something strange near the edge of the path.
A tall peony tree stood quietly in the fading evening light.
And for a brief second—
the image of the wounded man from my painting flashed across my mind again.
I handle myself and changed the subject.
"Well… who was Clera?" I asked.
He slowed his steps.
For a moment, the playful mood he had carried all evening disappeared.
"Why?" he asked.
I shrugged lightly, pretending it was nothing.
"No reason," I said. "You just seemed… different when she was around. I think so, if my sixth sense is correct."
He looked ahead at the path instead of answering.
The wind brushed past us again, rustling the branches of the peony tree behind us.
After a moment, he finally spoke.
"Clera and I go way back," he said.
"How far?" I asked.
He let out a quiet breath.
"Far enough that some things are better left in the past."
I frowned slightly.
"That sounds suspicious."
He laughed softly.
"Everything sounds suspicious to you."
"Yeah, yeah, I know that pretty well," I muttered.
"But you didn't answer the question."
He lifted his camera again and pointed it toward the sky, pretending to focus on the clouds.
"She's… someone who knows things," he said.
"What things?"
He lowered the camera slowly.
His gaze drifted toward the peony tree for a brief second.
"Things about… something and someone."
My steps stopped.
"About something and someone?"
But when I turned to look at him—
his expression had already returned to normal.
"Relax," he said playfully, turning back into his usual self.
"It's not like she knows your deepest secrets."
But something in his voice told me—
he wasn't joking.
Before I could figure out where it was coming from, someone suddenly walked past us.
I instinctively stepped aside.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a tall figure moving along the path.
He was wearing a black hoodie, the hood pulled low over his head. The shadows beneath it completely hid his face, making it impossible to see even a glimpse of his expression.
Yet his presence was impossible to ignore.
He was tall—easily taller than most people around him—and built like someone who trained his body relentlessly. His shoulders were broad, his frame powerful, the kind of strength that felt solid even beneath the loose fabric of the hoodie.
For a brief second, as he passed by me, the air around us seemed to grow strangely heavy.
My breath caught.
A sudden, overwhelming feeling struck me—
familiar.
Too familiar.
It was the same strange sensation as remembering something from long ago.
Déjà vu.
I froze in place as the stranger continued walking, his footsteps quiet against the stone path.
For some reason, my heart began beating faster.
As if something deep inside me was reacting to him.
"Hey," he said beside me. "You're doing it again."
I blinked and turned toward him.
"What?"
"Spacing out like that," he replied. "Did you see another ghost or something?"
But I wasn't listening anymore.
Because the stranger in the black hoodie was already disappearing into the crowd ahead.
And for some reason—
I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen him before.
Somewhere.
Somewhen.
Just as he was about to vanish among the people walking along the path, the wind suddenly picked up.
The edge of his hoodie lifted slightly.
For a brief second, I caught a glimpse of something on his wrist.
A faint mark.
Small.
But unmistakable.
My breath hitched.
It looked exactly like the symbol of a half moon—
A crescent moon.
Before I could react, the stranger pulled his hand back into the sleeve of his hoodie and continued walking.
Within seconds, he disappeared into the crowd.
"Hey," he said beside me again, waving a hand in front of my face. "Where did your soul wander off to this time?"
I blinked slowly, still staring at the place where the stranger had vanished.
"…Nothing," I murmured.
But deep inside, a strange thought had already begun to take shape.
"Well then. Stay here!" he said suddenly, turning around and walking away—leaving me alone on the path.
Before he could get too far, I snapped out of my thoughts and called after him, completely ignoring the strange moment that had just happened.
"Hey! Kevin, wait for me!"