Episode 2: Strange

Ian dreamed.

He was standing somewhere unfamiliar—wide land, open sky, the air heavy with tension. Before he could understand where he was, a figure appeared in the distance. A man, running.

“Jungkook—” he tried to call out, but no sound came.

Then suddenly—

An arrow pierced the air.

The man was struck from behind, his body jerking forward before collapsing to the ground. Jungkook’s heart raced as he ran toward him.

“Wait—!”

But no matter how close he got, the man’s face remained blurred, like a memory refusing to be remembered.

Ian jolted awake, gasping.

Morning sunlight filtered through the window.

“…Just a dream,” he whispered, pressing a hand to his chest.

At breakfast, his grandma hummed softly while setting food on the table.

“You look pale,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”

“I think so,” Ian replied, though his head still felt heavy. “I just had a strange dream.”

She smiled gently. “Dreams visit us when our hearts are tired.”

Ian wasn’t sure what that meant, but he nodded anyway.

After eating, he helped his grandma clean and fix her room. While moving an old wooden cabinet, something slipped and fell to the floor.

A picture.

Ian picked it up.

It wasn’t a photograph—but a sketch. A man dressed in old clothing, his expression soft yet distant. The paper was yellowed with age, the lines slightly faded.



Ian’s breath caught.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, his chest tightened.

“Grandma,” he asked quietly, “who is this?”

She paused when she saw the sketch.

“Oh…” she smiled faintly. “That’s from a long time ago.”

“Who is he?”

She carefully took the sketch from Ian's hands.

“He was your grandpa’s grandfather’s first love. He drew that himself.”

Ian frowned. “First love?”

“Yes,” she said. “They didn’t end up together. Life was different back then.”

Ian stared at the sketch again.

“I don’t know why,” he murmured, “but he feels… familiar.”

His grandma looked at him for a long moment, then smiled kindly.

“Some people never really leave us,” she said. “Even after many years.”

That night, Jungkook lay in bed, the image of the man burned into his mind.

The eyes.

The posture.

The feeling.

“I’ve never met you,” Jungkook whispered into the darkness.

“So why do you feel like I have?”

Sleep slowly pulled him under.

Pain exploded in his head.

Ian groaned as he opened his eyes.

The ceiling above him wasn’t familiar.

It wasn’t his room.

It wasn’t his grandma’s house.

He tried to move, but his body felt weak.

Then he heard voices.

“Did I hit him too hard?” someone asked, panic clear in his tone.

Someone answered "I don't know how clumsy you are" he added "Let him rest for a while"

“Is he okay, Jin hyung?”

"By the gods! Please tell me he's fine"

Ian's breath caught.

Hyung?

Before he could open his mouth—

darkness swallowed him again.

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