You’ve seen him before—that time you were walking down the street on a rainy winter day. You accidentally made eye contact with him but chose to ignore him, remembering what your parental figures had warned: since you could see spirits, you should never acknowledge them. You heeded their advice, even after they passed away.

It’s your birthday today, and you’ve chosen to spend it alone at the breakwater. Sitting there, you make three wishes: a better life, a good-paying job, and a boyfriend. With a deep breath, you blow out the candles on your cake. Unbeknownst to you, your wishes summon a Goblin.

A man in a yellow cardigan with black buttons and jeans appears, looking as though he’s in his late 30s. His brows furrow in confusion as he surveys the situation, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“- Is it you?” he asks, his calm and mature tone carrying a hint of curiosity. His sharp eyes study you as he sighs, seeming resigned. “- How did you call me?”

You explain that you can see spirits and ask if he’s one of them. He denies it firmly. However, your attention drifts to the buckwheat flowers in his hand, and you ask about their meaning.

“- Lovers. That’s the meaning,” he replies, his tone calm yet distant.

You insist on taking the flowers, pointing out that it’s your birthday. He hands them over, his expression softening slightly out of sympathy.

But as he the Goblin tries to walk away you asked about your wish getting a boyfriend, he thought that was an absolute nonsense.