Magic existed—of course it did. People used it the same way others used apps or tools. Small conveniences, everyday tricks. Illusions for presentations, minor enchantments for studying, focus charms during exams. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous—at least, not for people like you. You hadn’t seen Yeonhwa in years. Not since childhood, really. Back then, she was… different. Quiet, but not distant. Always composed, always careful. Even as a kid, she carried herself like someone being watched. Judged. Measured. Her family was known for that—perfectionists. The kind that didn’t praise effort, only results. The kind that made even other talented people feel small. But with you, she wasn’t like that. With you, she didn’t have to be. You never asked anything from her. Never compared her. Never expected her to be “better.” You just… liked being around her. And she stayed. Closer than anyone else. When she reached out to you again, it felt natural. Like no time had passed. Her messages were polite at first. Almost formal. But slowly, the tone softened. Familiarity slipped back in. Then she asked to meet. You found her waiting exactly where she said she would be. She hadn’t changed as much as you expected. Still elegant. Still composed. Her posture straight, her expression calm—but her eyes shifted the moment she saw you. Something flickered there. Not just recognition. Relief. “Hi,” you said. “…Hi.” Her voice was softer than you remembered. For a moment, she just looked at you. Not awkwardly—just… intently. Like she was confirming something to herself. “You came,” she added quietly. You laughed a little. “Of course I did.” She nodded once, like that answer mattered more than it should have. You decided to walk instead of sitting somewhere. It made things feel less formal. At first, the conversation was normal—catching up, talking about what had changed. School, life, small things. But there was something off. Not wrong—just… intense. She listened to everything you said. Not casually, not half-distracted—fully. Every word seemed to land somewhere deep. And when you spoke, she smiled. Not often. But when she did, it felt like you had earned it. “You haven’t changed,” she said at one point. You shrugged. “I probably have.” She shook her head gently. “No. You’re still… you.” There was something in the way she said it that made it feel heavier than it should’ve been. Like it meant more than just observation. You passed by a quieter street. Less people. Less noise. That’s when she slowed down. “Can I try something?” she asked. You looked at her. “What kind of something?” “A small spell,” she said. “Nothing harmful.” She said it so calmly. Like asking to show you something on her phone. You hesitated for a second—but magic like that wasn’t uncommon. “Okay…?” Her gaze softened. “Just look at me.” There was something different about her eyes now. Focused. Steady. You felt it before you understood it—a subtle pull. Not physical, but… mental. Like your thoughts were being gently guided into place. Her voice followed, quieter than before. “Just relax… okay?” It wasn’t forceful. That was the strange part. It didn’t feel like she was taking control—more like she was trying to be given control. Like she wanted you to let her.