Milo:

  I stood in the hospital corridor, staring in the void in front of me, but my mind was elsewhere. After being discharged from a two-day coma, my thoughts were still a jumbled mess. Everything felt surreal—the kind of surreal that made me question whether I was still dreaming or awake. And then I saw her.

  Orla.

  Her long black hair flowed behind her as she stood by the vending machine, looking as beautiful as ever. The glow of the hospital’s fluorescent lights framed her petite figure, her profile catching the light just right. Her cute, familiar face sent my heart into a full summersault.

  I hadn’t expected to run into her here, but I couldn’t stop myself from calling out.

  “Orla?”

  The word left my mouth before I could even think, and as soon as it did, my hands went clammy, my pulse racing. I felt like a stupid kid in my teenage years.

  My voice had barely left my throat when she turned, her eyes lighting up the second she saw me.

  In that moment, everything felt right—like the world had shifted into focus. She shouted my name and ran toward me, her steps light and graceful, and before I knew it, she threw her arms around my neck in a tight, genuine embrace.

  It all happened so fast. Her body pressed against mine, her hair brushing against my cheek, and in a flash, my mind took me somewhere else—back to that strange dream. The palace, the quarters, the rush of relief I’d felt when I found her there. Her hug was the same, that same tightness, the same warmth that made my heart skip three beats.

  But before I could even return the hug, she pulled away abruptly, snapping me back to the reality of the hospital corridor. Her cheeks flushed, and she stammered out an apology, but all I could think was how much I missed the feeling of her in my arms. It didn’t matter how long it lasted; it wasn’t enough. I wanted her back in my arms.

  So, without really thinking, I reached out and hugged her again. It wasn’t as natural as it had been before, but I didn’t care. I needed to hold her, to know she was okay.

  “I was so worried,” I murmured, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  There was a brief pause. I could feel her hesitate, then gently pull away again. Her eyes met mine, confused. “It was just a little spill during the stunt,” she mumbled, as if it was nothing. “I’m fine, really.”

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  And just like that, the connection I’d felt—whatever had been there—faded. Of course, she didn’t know. How could she? It was my dream. It wasn’t as if we had both been in it together.

  For a moment, I felt stupid. Of course, she didn’t know what I had been through in my mind. That hug in the palace, the desperate feeling of needing her close—it had all been part of my own dream. My dream, not hers.

  I awkwardly pulled away, trying to play it cool. “Right,” I muttered, forcing a smile. “Just a spill.”

  The tension between us settled into something that felt unfamiliar—like the moment had passed, and I wasn’t sure how to get it back.

  “So, who are you here to visit?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the awkwardness that was hanging in the air and told her I was being discharged.

  Her brow furrowed. “Were you injured?” she asked.

  I hesitated for a second before replying.

  “Not exactly,” I said. “I just woke up from a two-day coma a few days ago.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “A coma?”

  “It’s a long story,” I added quickly, not wanting to linger on the topic. I wasn’t sure I was ready to dive into that part yet—especially when I didn’t even fully understand it myself.

  Before I could go any further, Yoo’s voice echoed down the hallway, cutting through our conversation. “Milo! You ready to go?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see him waving me over, the rest of the guys already gathered by the exit.

  I looked back at Orla, not wanting to leave just yet. There were so many things I wanted to ask her, so many things I wanted to say. But I couldn’t keep them waiting.

  “Guess that’s my cue,” I said with a forced chuckle. “Will I see you back on set soon?”

  Orla nodded, her smile soft. “As soon as the doctors give me the all-clear.”

  “Good.” I hesitated, then gave her one last look before turning to go. “See you later, then?”

  “Definitely.”

  With that, I walked away, joining the guys as we headed out of the hospital. But even as we left, my mind was still spinning. What was I supposed to make of all this? Why did it feel like there was something more between us, something that went beyond just a simple work relationship?

  As I caught up to the group, Daiki was the first to speak. “Who was that?” he asked.

  Immediately, my mind flashed to the dream. The kiss. The kiss between General Haruto and Orla. Daiki and Orla. But it wasn’t Daiki. I knew that. Still, the jealousy churned in my gut, something I hadn’t expected to feel. I clenched my fists for a second, trying to shake the image from my head.

  “It was no one,” I muttered.

  But I could still feel the weight of Daiki’s eyes on me, like he was waiting for more.

  “Really? No one?” he pressed, clearly not buying it. “Didn’t look like no one.”

  Before I could snap back, Kwan stepped in. “Leave him be, Daiki. Milo needs to focus on healing right now.”

  Daiki opened his mouth to argue but then seemed to think better of it, shrugging before falling back in step with the others.

  I gave Kwan a grateful nod, though my mind was confused. Why did it bother me so much? Why did it feel like there was a deeper connection between Orla and me—even if it was all in my head?

  As we piled into the car, I couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of her hug. The way it had felt so familiar, like it had happened before. Like it had happened for real, except…

  It was just a dream… right?

  I sighed, leaning my head against the window as we drove off. Maybe I was reading too much into this. Maybe I was still trying to process everything that had happened. Whatever it was, one thing was clear:

  Orla was the one thing I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  ?Sky Mincharo