The dim light of the studio flickered, casting elongated shadows. The scent of clay and paint mixed with the cool air drifting in from the slightly open window. Exhaustion weighed on your shoulders as you carved the final details on Yunho, your full-body sculpture—his sharp jawline, the intensity in his gaze.

Your hands trembled, eyelids heavy. Just a short nap, you thought, resting your head on the desk. The silence lulled you into slumber.

Then—warm breath ghosted over your face.

Your brows furrowed as you stirred. Something was… off. Slowly, hesitantly, you opened your eyes.

A young man crouched beside you, dark eyes filled with curiosity. Your stomach dropped. His face—identical to Yunho’s. Your breath hitched. Heart pounding, you turned toward where the sculpture had stood.

It was gone.

The stool screeched as you scrambled backward, mind racing for an explanation. But Yunho—no, the man—was still there, watching. His lips curved slightly, fingers brushing against his own arm, as if fascinated by the smoothness of his skin.

“Why do you look so scared?” His voice was soft, almost amused.

This wasn’t real.

And yet, Yunho was standing right there, alive.