* * *
Among them, there were those who were madly in love with Eunho.
One person, in particular, couldn’t bear to be apart for even a moment and insisted they should date, swearing they would never part even in death.
And yet, in the end, Eunho was always the one left behind.
Those fleeting heartbreaks left no scars on him. Instead, with every breakup, another lock formed on his heart.
It wasn’t just others who were barred from entering—Eunho himself could no longer look inside.
Paradoxically, the more locks he placed, the more he was able to act like a warm and affectionate person.
By guarding the parts of himself he never wanted anyone to see, he found it easier to offer up the trivial ones.
It was the same principle as not being able to give away what was truly valuable, but easily handing over the things that held no worth.
This trait only grew stronger in his line of work.
— You seem to have become more outgoing during counseling. Do you think it’s because of your teacher’s influence?
— I can never communicate with people who look happy, but you’re different. Have you ever been depressed before?
— I’ve never met someone as kind as you, sir.
Fundamentally, nothing had changed.
But Eunho had become so skilled at pretending that even he felt as if he had truly gotten better.
He listened to others’ pain, actively helped them resolve their struggles, and deluded himself into believing that, in the process, he was healing too.
Beyond that locked door, he remained unaware of the things inside that were rotting away.
It was only when he became Lowell that he finally entered that room—through the passage of a dream.
The tears Eunho had never shed had pooled there, festering with decay.
Lowell held his breath and walked forward without hesitation.
— Lowell.
Lowell, who had been walking briskly, realized he had reached the edge of the nightmare.
He could hear a voice he never could have heard in Eunho’s world.
“Felix.”
Turning around, he found himself at a loss for words.
Felix’s expression was the same as that of all the others who had once said their goodbyes.
— You’re nothing but an empty shell of a person.
Felix spoke plainly, exposing the secret Lowell had fought so desperately to keep hidden.
And yet, Lowell couldn’t even reach out to stop him from leaving.
“Why is this all I amount to?”
This time, the question had a target.
And that target was himself.
Why, no matter how much he tried to change, did he always end up being the same person?
He had worked so hard to become someone better, to act like a good person, but in the end, it was just that—an act.
‘Of course, I could never imprint.’
Now, he understood why he avoided it.
He had always left himself an escape route.
‘Deep down, I must’ve believed that if Felix ever saw the real me, he would be disgusted.’
Lurking within him was a fear he hadn’t even realized existed.
The nightmare played on repeat, like a broken tape, showing him Felix walking away over and over again.
It was like catching a glimpse of the future—an endless loop of abandonment.
He had no idea how to escape this hell.
‘Can I overcome this?’
Half resigning himself to the nightmare, Lowell sank to the ground.
His will to fight had vanished. He figured he would wake up eventually.
For now, he just sat there, his body slack, staring blankly into the void.
He had no sense of how much time had passed.
Then, somewhere in the distance, a song began to play.
‘Am I imagining things?’
The voice was so soft and low that he doubted his own ears.
But instead of fading, the melody grew clearer, cutting through his nightmare with vivid clarity.
— Little one, may you have sweet dreams. Lowell, may you dream of happiness.
The lyrics slowly reached him.
He didn’t have to think hard to recognize the voice.
It was Felix.
Not the Felix from his nightmare, the one who had bid Eunho farewell, but the real Felix, the one from reality.
Lowell’s nightmare crumbled under the warmth of that gentle tune.
The seemingly unbreakable prison of his mind shattered so easily, all because of a simple lullaby.
The motivation that had withered inside him, that had been trampled to the ground, slowly began to rise again.
“Felix, are you there?”
Slowly, Lowell got to his feet.
Leaving the collapsing dream behind, he followed the sound of Felix’s voice forward.
Just before he fully woke, he turned back for one last look.
He had expected a terrible sight, but surprisingly, everything had returned to normal.
‘Is he… smiling?’
For a brief moment, he thought he saw Eunho, standing beside someone, smiling.
The sunlight was too bright, forcing him to squint, and the image faded into an afterimage.
He wanted to look closer, but Felix’s voice pulled him forward.
“Lowell, the fae will erase your nightmares.”
Lowell turned away from the dream and woke up.
The first thing he saw was Felix, wearing a serious expression as he softly sang a lullaby.
The sight was so absurd that Lowell burst into laughter.
The terror from his dream suddenly felt like nothing more than a lie.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’ve never seen anyone sing a lullaby with that kind of face before.”
“This is my first time singing one, too.”
Clearing his throat, Felix looked away, clearly embarrassed.
‘And yet, he still sang for me.’
Just because he didn’t want Lowell to have nightmares.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
Still feeling drowsy, Lowell mumbled, his eyes closing.
Felix, seeing how exhausted he was, gently adjusted his posture and murmured with concern,
“You seemed to be struggling more than usual today. Having two nightmares in one night—should I be worried?”
“But thanks to you, I’m fine now. Will you sing for me again next time?”
“I’d rather you not have nightmares in the first place.”
“That would be ideal.”
Chuckling, Lowell slowly opened his eyes and met Felix’s gaze.
“Felix.”
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
“I think… it might take me a while to imprint on you.”
Felix fell silent, his expression serious as he focused on Lowell’s words.
With a sorrowful voice, Lowell continued.
“I wish I were as brave as you.”
“You don’t have to imprint on me if you’re not ready.”
Felix reassured him without hesitation, as if he had already accepted the inconvenience.
Lowell didn’t want to leave things that way, but he also couldn’t bring himself to say everything he was feeling.
He knew Felix wouldn’t want to burden him either.
“Dawn’s breaking already.”
Lowell turned toward the window, using the sunrise as an excuse to hide his expression.
“The morning is here.”
The snow-covered mountains shimmered under the golden light, breathtakingly beautiful in a way that sent a chill through his heart.
* * *
