Orla:

  I was still in the hospital, spending another day out of another week under observation, but I could finally breathe a little easier. I felt much stronger than before. The fog in my mind was beginning to clear, allowing me to make a distinction between the chaotic dreams that had plagued me and the stark reality I found myself in now. I could vividly recall the series of events leading up to my arrival here—from the exhilaration of stunt riding with Milo to the surreal moments that had felt so real yet belonged to a world I now understood was a figment of my imagination.

  Yet, the more I thought about it, the more it began to morph into something else. My dream world, once so vivid, was now fading, each detail slipping away like grains of sand. I could remember the characters I had interacted with, their faces bright and lively, but the minor characters—those faceless beings—began to dissolve into obscurity. I found myself grappling with the idea that everything I had experienced might have been nothing more than a projection of my imagination, a jumbled mix of my fears and hopes manifesting as dreams.

  Determined to regain a sense of normalcy, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, steadying myself against the wall as I walked around the hospital room. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and I could feel the gentle hum of machines in the background. My stomach growled, reminding me that it had been ages since I last ate.

  As I made my way down the corridor, I spotted a vending machine tucked away in a corner, its bright lights flickering like a beacon. But as I reached for my pockets, disappointment washed over me—I had no coins.

  Just as I turned to leave, contemplating whether I should ask for change from a nurse, a woman appeared beside me.

  She smiled at me, but it felt almost surreal. She looked strikingly familiar—wait. It’s the same woman from the airport. No…

  It’s Gyeong.

  Without a second thought, she held out her hand filled with coins. I stared at her, my heart racing.

  I shook my head, trying to comprehend what was happening.

  She insisted, holding them out to me again.

  I hesitated, emotions swirling inside me. Was this really Gyeong, the servant who had poisoned me, or just a trick of my mind? It seemed so improbable, considering I’d only crossed paths with her once, briefly, at the chaos of Terminal 1. The whole situation felt unreal, as if my mind was blending reality and illusion together.

  Should I take the money from her? My instincts warned me to be cautious, to question this strange encounter. What if she had ulterior motives? But the weight of the coins in my palm felt real, grounding me in this moment. Reluctantly, I accepted them, a part of me still grappling with the uncertainty of whether this was a genuine interaction or another mirage conjured by my mind.

  The woman winked at me and bowed slightly, and in that moment, I felt frozen in place. There was something almost knowing about her gesture, as if she held a secret that I was completely unaware of. Did she know something?

  As she walked away, I found myself compelled to follow, an instinct driving me to understand what had just happened. I rounded the corner, heart racing, but when I looked up, she was gone. Just like that, she had disappeared. Vanished.

  What the hell? I glanced down at the coins still clutched in my hand, their cold, metallic weight a stark contrast to the confusion swirling in my mind. They were real, as tangible as the hospital room around me. But the woman? She was nowhere to be found. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the disorientation that clung to me. Was I still experiencing the strange side effects of my coma?

  Just as I turned back to the vending machine, ready to insert the coins, a deep, familiar baritone voice cut through the air, stopping me in my tracks. The sound was rich, almost melodic, sending a shiver down my spine.

  “Orla?”

  I turned slowly, my heart pounding as I searched for the source of that voice.

  There he was.

  Milo stood a few feet away, his eyes soft yet intense, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jacket. The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor cast a gentle glow around him, making the moment feel almost surreal. My heart swelled with an overwhelming mix of relief and joy. Without thinking, I dashed toward him and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

  “Milo!” I exclaimed, my voice muffled against his shoulder. The familiar scent of him—clean linen with a hint of something uniquely his—washed over me. For a split second, everything felt right again.

  But then I noticed he wasn’t hugging me back.

  His body remained stiff, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. Confusion rippled through me. Slowly, I pulled away, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment as I realized my mistake.

  This wasn’t the Milo from my dreams.

  This was the Milo from the plane, from the set of The Emperor’s Sword—the K-pop idol adored by millions. The one who, in reality, was more acquaintance than confidant. My face burned as the weight of the awkwardness settled between us.

  “I’m so sorry,” I stammered, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to—“

  Before I could finish, Milo’s expression softened. He reached out hesitantly and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a gentle hug.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice tinged with relief. “I was so worried. I thought I’d lost you.”

  I blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. A mix of confusion and hope stirred inside me. Lost me? How could he think that? We barely knew each other outside of work.

  And the dream—it was just that, a figment of my imagination.

  Unless… did he think I’d have brain damage? Is that it?

  “I... it was just a little spill during the stunt,” I mumbled, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m fine, really.”

  Milo cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Right, just a spill,” he repeated under his breath.

  I could see the concern etched in his eyes, but I decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “So, who are you here to visit?” I asked, offering a small smile to lighten the mood.

  He glanced down the corridor briefly before meeting my gaze again. “Actually, I’m being discharged,” he said.

  “Discharged?” I echoed, my brow furrowing. “Were you injured?”

  “Not exactly,” he replied, a hint of sheepishness in his tone. “I just woke up from a two-day coma a few days ago. The doctors have been monitoring me, but they’re finally letting me go home.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I stared at him, my mind racing. “A coma?”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah. It’s a long story.”

  Before I could press for more details, a group of guys appeared at the end of the hallway. They were unmistakably his bandmates.

  “Ya, Milo! Gal junbi dwaesseo?” one of them called out, waving.

  He gave them a quick nod before turning back to me. “Guess that’s my cue,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Will I see you back on set soon?”

  I nodded, still processing what he’d just told me. “As soon as the doctors give me the all-clear.”

  “Good,” he said, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer. “See you later, then?”

  “Definitely,” I replied.

  He flashed a final smile before heading down the hall to join his friends. I watched as they greeted him with playful shoves and laughter, their voices fading as they turned the corner.

  Left alone, I couldn’t shake the swirling questions in my mind. Milo had been in a coma as well? How did that happen? It seemed too coincidental.

  I tried to recall the details of my own accident with Raven, but the memories were blurry. I remembered mounting the horse, the stunt itself, but everything after that was shrouded in a fog.

  Then, unbidden, vivid images of Milo on horseback flooded my mind. The way he handled the reins with ease, the determination in his eyes, his smile, the wind tousling his hair as we rode through a dense forest.

  I shook my head, trying to dispel the lingering visions. It couldn’t be real. Those were just remnants of my dream. Weren’t they?

  But the sensations felt so authentic—the pounding of hooves, the rush of adrenaline, the sound of his voice calling my name. It was as if we’d shared the same experience.

  “Get a grip, Orla,” I muttered to myself. “It’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”

  Still clutching the coins, I turned back to the vending machine, but my appetite had vanished. I leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

  Maybe it was just the aftereffects of the coma, residual images blending with reality. Or maybe… there was more to it?

  ***

  Later that evening, I sat up in bed, my iPad resting on my lap as I continued working on the drawing of the consort, the same one I had started on the flight. The one that had piqued Milo’s curiosity and sparked our first conversation. It was strange how it all traced back to her—this mirror image of myself, pulled straight from the dream that still haunted me. Every detail I sketched brought her back into focus, the intricate hairstyle, the delicate features. This woman, this vision, had somehow led me down this strange path.

  What unsettled me most was that these apparitions had started long before the coma. It was as if she had always been there, lurking in the edges of my mind, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

  Just as I was putting the final touches on the consort’s face, a gentle knock sounded at the door, pulling me back to reality.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  Nara peeked her head in, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Hey, thought you’d appreciate some of your own stuff,” she said, stepping inside with a tote bag slung over her shoulder. “Brought you a change of clothes for tomorrow and, oh, I found your phone.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I replied, genuinely grateful. “I was starting to dread the idea of leaving here in this stylish hospital gown.”

  She laughed, setting the bag on the chair beside my bed. “Hospital chic isn’t your look.”

  I picked up my phone, the screen lighting up to reveal a barrage of missed calls and unread messages. My heart sank as I saw the majority were from my parents. Hesitantly, I opened the first message.

  We’re very disappointed in you, Orla.

  I sighed, the weight of their disapproval settling over me like a heavy blanket. These messages were dated from the day I left for Korea—the day I walked out on my wedding.

  “I tried calling your parents while you were unconscious,” Nara said softly, pulling up the chair to sit beside me.

  I looked up, meeting her concerned gaze. “You did?”

  She nodded. “They gave me an earful and hung up. Didn’t even ask how you were doing. Honestly, I was pissed.”

  A bitter smile tugged at my lips. “Sounds like them.”

  Nara frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me your parents were like that?”

  I shrugged, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket. “It’s complicated. A lot of why I ran away has to do with them. They were pressuring me to marry Logan.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait, but I thought you were in love.”

  I let out a hollow laugh. “I was… or at least, whatever I thought love was. But in hindsight, it had nothing to do with it. It was all about business for them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I took a deep breath, deciding it was time to lay it all out. “Logan’s parents had a deal with mine—a substantial sum of money was involved. The marriage was supposed to seal some business arrangement. I didn’t want to see it at the time, but I was just... collateral.”

  Nara’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious? That’s insane!”

  “Welcome to my life.”

  She shook her head, anger flashing in her eyes. “That’s so messed up. No wonder they were upset when you left, but still! To not care about your health? Their own daughter?”

  I leaned back against the pillows, closing my eyes for a moment. “I’ve always been a means to an end for them. It’s exhausting.”

  She reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Orla. I had no idea.”

  “It’s okay,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “Honestly, being away from them has made me feel more unburdened. Less... suffocated.”

  Nara studied me for a moment. “So, what are you going to do now?”

  I sighed, opening my eyes to stare at the ceiling. “There’s nothing I can do. They won’t change, and I can’t keep letting them control my life. I just need to move forward. On my own.”

  She nodded slowly. “I get that. Just know I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

  A small smile touched my lips. “Thanks, Nara. Really.”

  “So, you excited to get back on set?” she said, changing the subject.

  “More than you know,” I replied. “I just want to dive back into work and focus on something positive.”

  “Well, the director’s been asking about you. They had to pause some scenes until you’re back.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yep. Seems like you’re pretty essential,” she teased.

  I chuckled. “Guess I better not keep them waiting then.”

  She stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “Alright, I should let you rest. Big day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, can’t wait to wear real clothes again.”

  She gathered her things and headed toward the door. “Sleep well. And don’t worry about your parents. You’re doing what’s right for you.”

  “Thanks, Nara. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” she said, giving me one last supportive smile before slipping out of the room.

  Left alone, I glanced back at my phone. The screen had dimmed, but with a tap, the slew of unread messages reappeared. Part of me wanted to delete them all, erase that negativity from my life. But another part couldn’t help but read each one, letting their disappointment and anger wash over me.

  You’re making a huge mistake.

  Think of the family.

  We can’t believe you’d be so selfish.

  With each message, I felt a mix of hurt and resolve. Their words no longer held the power they once did. Maybe it was the strange dream—or whatever it was—that had given me a new perspective. Life was too short to live under someone else’s expectations.

  As I kept scrolling, a soft ping signaled a new notification. Curious, I tapped it to see a direct message on Instagram. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the sender: Milo Lee

  Opening the message, I found a shy smiley face followed by a short line:

  Can’t wait to see you again.

  My heart did a flip. A warm sensation spread through me, chasing away the lingering shadows cast by my parents’ messages. It was amazing how a few words from him could brighten my entire mood.

  Smiling to myself, I typed back a reply before I could overthink it:

  Me neither! ??

  As soon as the message left my phone, I felt a rush of warmth spread through me, like I was a teenager all over again. The butterflies were back—something I hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages, or at least, not since before I met Milo on the flight. It was strange and wonderful how someone like him could make me feel this way with just a simple message.

  But then, out of nowhere, the image of General Haruto kissing me flashed through my mind. Embarrassment surged through me, and I cringed, sinking deeper into the hospital bed.

  Oh god, I let him kiss me. The wrong guy kissed me! Why did I do that?

  I lifted the blanket and buried my face in it, cringing from the memory. I couldn’t believe I’d been so swept up in that dream world. What had I been thinking?

  But then… why did General Haruto kiss me? He wasn’t supposed to be the hero of the story. Was he? Why did he feel compelled to do that? Was there something more to it? Some unspoken connection I didn’t realize? Or was he just trying to save me in his own way, in whatever twisted version of reality that dream was?

  I lingered on the thought, trying to unravel it, but the more I tried to make sense of it, the more absurd it became. It wasn’t real. General Haruto wasn’t real. None of it was real.

  I shook my head, forcing myself to let it go. It was just a dream. A crazy, intense dream. And as real as it felt, that world didn’t exist.

  General Haruto didn’t exist.

  I took a deep breath.

  It was just a dream, nothing more. And there was no way Milo—or anyone else—would ever know about it.

  ?Sky Mincharo