❝ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐲 ❞- ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴜɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴍʙᴏᴅɪᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxQᴜɪꜱɪᴛᴇ ʜᴀʀᴍᴏɴʏ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪᴍᴜʟᴛᴀɴᴇᴏᴜꜱ ᴏᴄᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ.
In the heart of Seoul, two strangers, Lee Minho and Han Jisung, are inexplicably united through their dreams. Every night, Minho, a software deve...
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♥༻∞ Lee Minho ∞༺♥
The rain whispered secrets as it fell gently upon the ancient cobblestones of Bukchon Hanok Village, its soft murmurs blurring the lines between past and present. Jisung and I walked under the shelter of a single, narrow umbrella, navigating the winding alleys where the modern world seemed to recede into the shadows of time. Each step we took was cushioned by the serene ambiance of the night, the village cloaked in a mist that seemed to weave reality into the threads of a forgotten dream.
The air was cool, laced with the deep, earthy scent of rain-soaked hanoks—their wooden eaves and tiled roofs standing testament to centuries. Our proximity under the modest umbrella necessitated a closeness that brushed the ordinary boundaries of personal space. Our arms touched lightly, sending small shocks of awareness through me, heightening the intimacy of our shared refuge from the rain.
This forced intimacy was unsettling yet oddly comforting. With every light brush of our arms, every furtive glance exchanged under the dim glow of street lamps, the air between us thickened, charged with an unspoken yearning. It was as if the very raindrops were complicit in our silent dialogue, echoing the sentiments we dared not voice aloud.
As we meandered through the village, stepping onto the grounds that had served as the backdrop for countless dramas, an air of surreal nostalgia enveloped us. Here, history and modern storytelling mingled, creating a tapestry woven with the threads of imagined narratives and real-life wanderings. I felt Jisung's intermittent glances, each laden with a curiosity that seemed to probe deeper with each step we took.
The iconic gate before us stood open, an inviting threshold that beckoned us into this cinematic realm. It was as if stepping through it would allow us to slip into the storied pasts etched into its timeworn paths. With a gentle tug, I pulled Jisung's hand, leading him through the gate, where the fabric of reality seemed to blur. A woman at the entrance, her attire a reflection of the village's historical essence, greeted us with a smile that held a depth of knowing too profound for casual observation.
"Would you like to become our warrior this evening?" she inquired, her tone playful yet carrying an undercurrent of seriousness as she gestured towards an array of traditional warrior garb. Her words ignited a spark of excitement in Jisung, who moved toward the garments with the eagerness of a child embracing a new adventure. "You can try on one of the finest; you have only thirty minutes to wear it."
"Oh, you're really going for it. I'll wait here," I said, my voice tinged with amusement as he disappeared behind the changing screen. Left alone, her gaze returned to me, soft yet piercing, as if she could see through to the very core of my being.
"You seem fearful of dream attachment," she whispered, her voice a soft murmur that blended seamlessly with the rhythmic patter of the rain. Her observation startled me, a jolt that sent my heart racing. "Keep on dreaming, keep living those dreams. He will end up remembering those dreams," she continued, her gaze intense yet filled with a warmth that somehow soothed the sting of her words.
