CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2

Night stretched across the sky, swallowing the world in darkness. Yet the large moon remained visible, hanging high above and casting its silver glow over everything beneath it. No stars appeared in the heavens tonight, leaving the moon alone to illuminate the endless darkness.

Soft orange light filtered through the curtains and fell across a modest bedroom.

Although no lamps were lit, the moonlight was bright enough to reveal a slender figure curled beneath a thick white blanket.

Two small hands wrapped around his body, seeking warmth from the chill of the air conditioner. His pale cheek rested against a favorite pillow while his body shifted occasionally in his sleep.

Everything appeared normal.

As it always did.

But no one could know what was happening deep within his dreams.

That night, sleep carried Pun Winnala into another familiar story—a dream that had repeated itself countless times.

A dream of a mysterious man.

A man who wore a deep-red pendant, a color as vivid as fresh blood.

Sweat dampened Pun's face as he gripped the bedsheets tightly.

The image before him was painfully clear.

A young man with a strong, bare back sat beside him. His face rested against one hand while his thin lips remained pressed together, as though enduring some hidden pain.

Pun's light-brown eyes filled with tears.

The dream felt so real that it was impossible to believe it existed only within his mind.

His trembling fingers reached out, gently brushing against the pale face of the mysterious stranger.

Dark eyes met his.

Eyes as black as the night itself.

His heart pounded wildly.

Tears clung to his lashes before rolling down his flushed cheeks.

He desperately tried to memorize the man's face, afraid it would disappear the moment he woke.

Yet the little control he possessed vanished when the stranger leaned closer.

A cold hand cupped his face.

Then soft lips claimed his own.

The kiss was icy.

Gentle.

Dangerously addictive.

Pun's consciousness slowly faded beneath the touch.

The stranger's tongue traced his lips before deepening the kiss, stealing every breath and every thought until Pun could no longer distinguish reality from fantasy.

The sensation was overwhelming.

His heart surrendered completely.

He didn't know whether what he was experiencing was merely a dream or something far more mysterious.

All he knew was the taste.

The coldness.

The longing.

And the strange feeling that he never wanted it to end.

Then the darkness faded.

Phew!!!

The sharp sound of an alarm clock shattered the silence.

Pun's eyes flew open.

Startled awake, he sat upright in bed and buried his face in both hands.

Despite falling asleep before nine o'clock the previous night, he still felt exhausted.

His fingers reached for the expensive phone resting on the nightstand and silenced the alarm.

7:00 a.m.

Outside, the sounds of traffic were already beginning to fill the city as another busy morning approached.

For nearly twenty minutes, Pun remained sprawled across the mattress.

Laziness clung to his body.

Or perhaps it was the dream.

Again.

It wasn't the first time he had dreamed of the mysterious pale man.

He had lost count of how many times those dark eyes and cold lips had appeared in his sleep.

Every dream felt different.

Yet every dream ended the same way.

Leaving him unable to forget.

Even now, the memory of the kiss lingered.

The icy touch.

The scent that surrounded him.

The warmth hidden beneath those dark eyes.

And the face he could never quite remember.

It was like an old oil painting buried in the deepest corner of a forgotten house.

Familiar.

Yet always just out of reach.

Eventually, Pun forced himself out of bed.

His bare feet touched the cold floor as he crossed the room toward the bathroom.

Stopping before the mirror, he stared at his reflection.

"Phew..."

He splashed water onto his face.

"Stop overthinking and get to work, Pun."

His hoarse voice echoed softly through the bathroom.

The dream would have to wait.

By the time he finally escaped the comfort of his bed, it was already close to seven-thirty.

If he continued wasting time, he would be late.

Fortunately, preparing the shop didn't take long.

Everything had been neatly arranged before closing the previous evening.

The folding doors opened wide, welcoming collectors and antique enthusiasts from all over the city.

Pun grabbed a damp cloth and began wiping dust from shelves and display cabinets.

His plans for the day were simple.

Sort the items brought up from storage.

Arrange new displays.

Prepare sold items for collection.

The amount of inventory waiting in storage seemed endless.

Pun lived alone.

The second floor served as his private living space, while the ground floor had long since become an antique shop filled with treasures he had gathered from countless places.

The workload often felt too large for one person.

Still, he had grown accustomed to handling everything himself.

Perhaps because he had been alone for so long.

After the death of his parents, life had changed completely.

His younger brother had been adopted by a family capable of providing a better future, while Pun remained behind to manage the antique shop his family had left him.

Day after day.

Year after year.

"Hmm..."

He paused while sorting through another box.

"I don't remember seeing this wooden box before."

His gaze shifted to an old book resting inside.

"And where did this come from?"

Dust coated the cover.

Brushing it away with the back of his hand, he frowned at the unfamiliar lettering stamped across its surface.

Curious, he took out his phone and snapped a picture before running it through a translation application.

"Aeternaliter..."

The result appeared moments later.

"Eternally."

Pun blinked.

The title immediately caught his attention.

Although books weren't usually among his interests, something about this one felt different.

Without hesitation, he set it aside.

Rather than placing it on the shelves for sale, he carried it to his desk.

Even if he couldn't read a single page, he wanted to keep it.

For some reason, it felt important.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity.

Pun climbed up and down the stairs dozens of times.

Furniture was moved.

Displays were rearranged.

Customers came and went.

Items found new owners.

The sandwich delivered that morning remained untouched until late afternoon.

Only then did he finally sit down in his favorite wooden chair and take a bite while examining the shop's arrangement.

His phone rested nearby as he checked messages from online customers.

Questions continued arriving.

Orders continued appearing.

Work never seemed to end.

Still, being busy was better than being alone.

Nearly an hour later, while uploading photos of products and responding to messages, his phone suddenly rang.

The caller ID displayed a familiar name.

Jett.

Pun answered immediately.

"What's happening?"

"I have a job for you."

"Aren't you going to ask if I'm free first?"

"It doesn't matter if you're free. You have to do it."

A smile tugged at Pun's lips.

Jett was one of the few close friends he had.

Although his tone sounded demanding, Pun knew better.

If it wasn't important, Jett would never ask for help like this.

"What do you need?"

Silence.

Pun pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure the call hadn't disconnected.

"Hello?"

"A painting in my gallery was damaged by some unknown brat."

"Hmm?"

"It's important. I need you to take a look at it and arrange for restoration."

"Isn't the gallery supposed to be closed for renovations?"

"That's exactly why I'm telling you some unknown brat ruined it."

In addition to his entertainment business, Jett also owned an art gallery.

Pun had never visited it.

The place had been closed for quite some time, and Jett never explained why.

Personally, Pun suspected his friend spent far more time enjoying nightlife than managing artwork.

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