❝ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬❞ Months have passed since San left behind everything he ever desired, determined to confront the demons that had him spiraling without reprieve. Cursed and bound by fate, it became increasingly difficult for him no...
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《 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- 𝐒𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 》
Within the surreal confines of a dream, where reality morphed with the ethereal, I found myself ensnared in a chilling tableau. Rain cascaded down, its cold droplets an odd sensation against my skin, blending the line between illusion and tangible experience. My body felt unnaturally heavy, a testament to the dream's oppressive nature as I struggled to lift my head, my gaze eventually finding Wooyoung, standing beside Mingo, both figures shrouded in the dream's ambiguous light.
A tightening in my throat emerged as I observed the scene, an attempt to move revealing the harsh reality of chains bound tightly around me. The clank of metal, the sensation of confinement, sent waves of panic through me, a fear so palpable it threatened to consume me whole. The sudden touch on my arm, startling in its clarity, turned my head to find my little sister beside me, her presence vivid within the dream's landscape, her wide eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope.
"Sannie, save him..." Her voice, a soothing yet scared whisper, cut through the dream's haze, anchoring me to a semblance of purpose amidst the chaos.
The dream's vividness intensified with her touch, a cold hand against my cheek, momentarily dispelling the darkness with her gentle smile. Yet, the dream's grip was unyielding, pulling my attention to Wooyoung's pained expression, a silent scream lost to the night as I fought against the chains, each movement met with searing pain.
"No one can save you, he couldn't even save his sister from me," Minho's voice taunted, his presence dominating the dreamscape, his gun twirling with menacing ease. Forced to meet his gaze, the overwhelming sense of helplessness enveloped me, the air thick with malice as Yeonjun's laughter echoed, a mocking specter.
"You can't save him, you're trapped in your own mind...look at you," his voice taunted, a reflection of the internal struggle, the fight against the chains a metaphor for the battle raging within.
"Woonie..." The word escaped my lips as a mere murmur, a desperate attempt to reach him across the surreal expanse that separated us within this dream. He turned to face me, and the sight of his eyes—brimming with tears, radiating a mix of disappointment and profound sadness—struck a chord deep within me. It was a look that pierced through the dream's fog, grounding me in a painful reality of emotional turmoil.
The instinct to move, to bridge the gap between us, was met with the unforgiving reality of my constraints. The chains that bound me tightened mercilessly with each futile attempt to reach him, the metal cold and unyielding against my skin. A gasp tore from my throat as an unbearable weight settled over me, the physical manifestation of my fear and guilt within the dream's confines.
As panic surged like a tidal wave, crashing over me with relentless force, the emotional burden became too much to bear. A cry of pain and desperation broke free, echoing into the void of the dreamworld. It was a sound that carried with it the depth of my helplessness, a raw expression of the agony of being so close yet so far from the one I needed most.
