Conjugal Dream (2)
I carefully stepped over the threshold and approached Jeong Ha-yeon. Normally, protocol called for a bow, but the young Jeong Ha-yeon in the dream was staring blankly into empty space. The woman I presumed was Jang-ssi ajumma had vanished without a trace. I called out to Jeong Ha-yeon.
“Ha-yeon-ah.”
“……”
She glanced my way briefly when I said her name, but it seemed like nothing more than a reaction to the sound of my voice. Her unfocused eyes weren't truly seeing me. My heart felt like it was filling up with rainwater, and I bit my lip. Even in this sealed underground room, I could swear I heard the patter of rain and the rumble of thunder outside. But I couldn't afford to zone out myself, so I grabbed the young Jeong Ha-yeon's shoulders and shook her.
“Ha-yeon-ah! It's me!”
“…Joo-hwan?”
Her eyes finally focused as I shook her hard. Spotting me, Jeong Ha-yeon called my name with a look like she might burst into tears at any second.
“Joo-hwan-ah.”
“Yeah. Ha-yeon-ah, I'm right here.”
“Mom died. But no one's coming. What if Mom's lonely?”
My breath caught in my throat for a moment. Right now, in this place, there was no one but Jeong Ha-yeon and me. The chatty ajummas who'd been outside the threshold were gone, and even the Jang-ssi ajumma who'd been beside Jeong Ha-yeon had disappeared.
Was there really no one here back then, too?
Presumably, it hadn't been completely empty. Someone like Jang-ssi ajumma must have stuck by Ha-yeon's side, and there had to have been at least a few occasional visitors. But judging from the dream's depiction, their numbers were pitifully few, and even those probably didn't linger. Ha-yeon likely had no one reliable to lean on right beside her.
Dreams are shaped by memories and emotions, or so they say. Right now, I was indirectly living through the crushing sense of loss and isolation Ha-yeon must have felt that day.
Was it like this for me after I died, too?
The thought hit me suddenly—that after my pre-regression death, I'd probably been just as alone. The bonds I'd formed had all snapped amid misfortune, I'd shoved away any new connections that came later, and in my final days, I'd holed up in my room writing, cut off from the world. No wonder no one came.
Was that why the portrait photo holding Ha-yeon's mother looked so much like one of mine? In the mourners' spot, I could almost see my own parents and little sister sobbing, wailing about how lonely their son—their big brother—was, and what were they supposed to do.
That guy earlier… Ha-yeon's dad, huh?
Anger boiled up the instant his face resurfaced in my mind. Sure, there were probably circumstances keeping him from coming inside. I could even guess at some of them. But no excuse justified leaving a middle-school kid—a child—completely alone like that. A father, of all people, shouldn't have done it.
I pulled the dazed, weeping Jeong Ha-yeon into my arms again. Patting her small back, I murmured over and over.
“I'll stay right here. I won't go home—I'll be by your side the whole time. Until it's all over.”
What I felt in that moment wasn't love—it was pity. Whether that pity was directed at Jeong Ha-yeon, or at my pre-regression self, or both… I honestly couldn't say.
Jeong Ha-yeon's body trembled faintly in my embrace. Her shoulders soon began to heave, and choked sobs leaked out.
“Hic… hnng… Thank you, Joo-hwan-ah.”
“……”
The words she'd said when we parted hit differently now. I wanted to slap the cheek of my past self—the one who hadn't been plugging his ears back then.
What had I felt hearing “thank you” at the time?
Suggesting we just be friends…
Jeong Ha-yeon had been every bit as hopeless with relationships as I was. She'd simply been grateful that someone she cared about hadn't abandoned her.
I hugged her even tighter. But in the next instant, my arms were empty.
Startled, I whipped around—only to find myself back inside the classroom. The only difference was the sign on the door: instead of 3-7, it now read 1-3. I was seated at a desk, and right behind me sat the 17-year-old Jeong Ha-yeon. Her face was ghostly pale, her expression blank as she read her book.
“Ha-yeon…”
The shrill chatter of female students suddenly pierced my ears.
“Jeong Ha-yeon? Isn't she some illegitimate kid?”
“How'd a trash girl like that even get into our school? Dragging down the whole class.”
“Her dad's hooked up with Yunsung Group or something.”
“Oh, Seok-chan's? Explains why he bothers with her.”
“Her mom a hooker or what? Banged a married guy.”
I snapped my head toward the source of that last line.
“You fucking…!”
But I didn't even finish before the scene shifted again. Now we were behind the school building—not just me and Jeong Ha-yeon, but two guys who looked like brothers, closing in on her and running their mouths.
“Heard your mom's a whore. How much to fuck you?”
“You know who our parents are, right? Spill it. We'll pay top dollar.”
They raked their sleazy eyes over her body, snickering like idiots. Rage surged through me, and I lunged forward—only for someone else to beat me to it. Lee Seok-chan charged straight in, smashing his fist into one guy's face as they grappled.
“You fucking pieces of shit! Ugh! Aaaagh!”
Lee Seok-chan laid into one furiously, but the other jumped in from the side and clocked him.
“You goddamn mutts!”
I dove in a heartbeat later, smashing one's jaw with everything I had.
Thwack!
The solid impact felt good, and I cocked my fist for another—when the scene flipped once more. Lee Seok-chan and the two assholes shattered like glass, and we were back in the classroom. But this time, things were blatantly different: instead of the bitchy girls spewing venom or the snickering brothers, Jeong Ha-yeon was surrounded by me, Lee Seok-chan, Yoo Ji-kyeong, and Jang Deok-hoon.
“Ah.”
Jeong Ha-yeon was smiling—brightly, genuinely, nothing like before. This was what she'd wanted. To laugh and hang out with friends.
Suddenly, her eyes met mine, and she reached out a hand, beckoning me over. I hurried to her side and took it. She startled, clearly not expecting me to actually grab it, then pouted with a shy smile.
Gripping my hand, Jeong Ha-yeon said, “Joo-hwan-ah, can we keep being friends forever? Everyone else is fine, but you… I can't keep a straight face around you. It's so awkward, I feel like I'm dying here.”
“……”
“I don't wanna pretend I don't know you either. I just… don't know what to do.”
Before I knew it, Jeong Ha-yeon had leaned back against my chest, nestled in my arms. The setting had shifted too—from classroom to a familiar room: her bedroom, the one I'd visited now and then when we were dating. She was dressed casually in a thin-strapped tank top and dolphin pants, an outfit I hadn't seen on her lately.
Fiddling with my hand, Jeong Ha-yeon murmured, “Maybe I shouldn't have broken up with you? If we'd talked it out and worked on it… would things have been okay?”
“…Who knows.”
“Sorry. Honestly, I think staying together would've been even worse. Getting back together now… it'd be ridiculous.”
“Why's that?”
“'Cause if we broke up again, it'd be over for good.”
“…Think so?”
“Yeah. I don't have the guts to face you if that happened.”
Was it because this was a dream? Jeong Ha-yeon spilled her unfiltered thoughts without holding back. No filters at all.
“Y'know, when we were dating, we went at it like rabbits, right?”
“…Yeah?”
“Honestly? Sometimes I felt like a damn sex doll. I'd cry about it.”
“……”
I was utterly speechless. The phrase “ten mouths and still no words” fit perfectly. Guilt hit hard—sweat poured out in buckets.
Jeong Ha-yeon let out a small chuckle and went on. “But that wasn't the only reason I wanted to break up. Truth is, it felt good too. So good that by the end, moping about it after we both enjoyed ourselves felt kinda stupid.”
“Th-then… what was the reason?”
“I already told you once.”
My brain raced, digging through memories. She'd told me? When? A moment later, it clicked, and I muttered, “Felt like we were less than friends…?”
She nodded. “Exactly. I wanted to be more than friends, but it felt like we'd dropped below that. If we'd kept going, we'd end up sub-friends or something.”
“So that's why you wanted to go back to being friends?”
“…Yeah. Sorry. I pushed for it but then acted all weird about it.”
I let out a sigh. Dream talk or not, the raw honesty made it hit harder—no sugarcoating.
“That's not something you need to apologize for.”
“Pfft. Gonna make me say it was your fault again?”
“Nah, just… it's natural. Time'll sort it out.”
Jeong Ha-yeon gave a small nod. That's when Lucy's voice chimed in.
Master, Jeong Ha-yeon is about to wake up. If you don't form a relationship now, she'll wake up soon.
…Form a relationship?
It'll keep the dream going longer if she's satisfied. The place and time won't shift anymore either.
Hearing that, my hand drifted up on instinct—then dropped back down.
Master?
Lucy's voice rang out, but I stayed still, just holding Jeong Ha-yeon. The item that let me enter the dream was called Conjugal Dream, but how I used it was entirely up to me—regardless of its effects. I'd already failed once before, after all.
This isn't some problem you solve by fucking in a dream.
I'd come in to help her shake off her fatigue—or at least, that was the excuse. Truth was, I'd just been tempted by the chance to hook up with Ha-yeon, even if only in a dream. But that urge had vanished now.
Don't rely on the item.
One screw-up ruining a relationship was plenty. I wanted to fix things with Jeong Ha-yeon the normal way—no items.
The moment I resolved that, the dream world began to blur and fade into fog.
Jeong Ha-yeon is waking up. Returning to reality in 1 minute.
*
Jeong Ha-yeon's body—face-down on the desk—shuddered violently.
Jerk!
“Hic?!”
She bolted upright, eyes darting around wildly. So many visits here, she recognized Seo Joo-hwan's room instantly. Spotting the printouts and water glass on the table snapped her fully awake.
“Ah, studying… Fuck, you crazy bitch. What the hell kinda dream was that…!”
Jeong Ha-yeon's face flushed beet red in an instant. Fleeting dream fragments flashing through her mind brought a flood of shame and mortification.
Kyaaaaah! You insane bitch! No—uwAAAAH!
She wanted to scream it out loud, but with Seo Joo-hwan sleeping right there, she couldn't. Instead, she shrieked it all internally, over and over like a maniac. Even the patchy recall was too much—she couldn't lift her head.
Face burning like fire, Jeong Ha-yeon glared pointlessly at the sleeping Seo Joo-hwan.
I'm losing it… Do I still like this guy? No. I shouldn't… Aaaah. I'm seriously going crazy.
That's when the blanket draped over her shoulders slipped off with a thud. She sighed, staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
“What the hell am I supposed to do…?”
Dating was a no-go. She'd suggested being friends, but couldn't even manage that right. Ignoring him entirely felt even worse.
She sighed again, thinking how damn annoying she was being to herself.
“Sigh. Here, cover up and sleep.”
Muttering, she draped the fallen blanket back over his shoulders. In that instant, the tattoo on the back of Seo Joo-hwan's hand lit up brilliantly. His eyes snapped open, and his body jerked just like hers had moments ago.
Jerk!
“Hic?!”
Crash!
“Oof!”
Seo Joo-hwan, freshly woken and bleary-eyed, stared up at the ceiling. The moment his eyes opened, his body tipped sideways, slamming the back of his head into the floor.
“Ugh… What… Ha-yeon?”
Her face was right there—practically touching his. Blinking the sleep away, he realized Jeong Ha-yeon was straddling him.
She panicked, face turning scarlet. “S-s-sorry! I'm getting off right now!”
Then the tattoo on his hand flashed again.
Jerk!
“Hik!”
Slide!
The Jeong Ha-yeon who'd been perched on the table slipped right off, sprawling fully atop Seo Joo-hwan.
Smack.
Perfectly aligned—their lips met.