jungwon dreams of her again. the girl with hair like silk, cascading down her back in waves that shimmer under the light. he never sees her face, never hears her voice, but he knows — deep in his heart — that she is beautiful.

she is always just out of reach, slipping through his fingers like water. when he wakes, the scent of something sweet lingers in the air, like freshly washed hair, like the ghost of a memory he cannot grasp.

he wonders if she is real. if somewhere, beyond his dreams, she exists.

at school, jungwon finds himself searching. every time someone passes by with long, flowing hair, he looks — just for a second — hoping for a flicker of recognition. but it’s never her.

"jungwon, you okay?" someone asks, but he only nods, lost in thought.

then, one rainy afternoon, he ducks into a bookstore to escape the downpour. the air smells of old paper and coffee, warm and familiar. and then — he smells it. that scent. the one from his dreams.

his heart pounds as he turns, and there she is.

she’s facing away from him, flipping through the pages of a book. her hair is just as he remembers, soft waves that fall effortlessly over her shoulders.

jungwon doesn’t breathe.

he wants to say something. to tell her he’s dreamed of her a thousand times. but what if she turns around and she’s a stranger? what if she’s not the girl from his dreams, just a coincidence, just a trick of fate?

before he can decide, she closes the book and walks past him. their shoulders brush, and the scent of shampoo fills his senses.

"excuse me," she says softly, and he knows.

it's her.