The morning after the river felt strangely peaceful, the kind of peace that didn't come from calmness but exhaustion. Rin Haesol's movements were slow, her body still carrying the weight of the night before. The puppy, now dry and wagging its tiny tail, had claimed a corner of her blanket. Minji had named him without asking.
"Professor Woof," Minji announced proudly. "He looks wise and judgmental, like your pharmacology lecturer."
Haesol gave a faint smile as she sipped her coffee. "Professor Woof, huh? He already looks disappointed in her," she murmured to herself. The puppy blinked slowly, as if agreeing.
"He's our emotional support dog now. You're welcome," Minji added with a grin.
Haesol rolled her eyes but did not argue. There was something comforting about the puppy's sleepy little face, something that made the house feel lighter.
Campus was louder than ever. Midterms were over, but gossip had not. Rumors now had the shape of myths—half fantasy, half fiction.
> "She predicted an accident!"
"She's their lucky charm!"
"She's secretly dating one of them!"
Haesol muttered under her breath, dismissing it, yet a small ache lingered. "Right, because that makes total sense."
Yura met her at the gate, iced Americano in one hand, phone in the other.
"You've gone viral again," Yura said, her voice a mix of excitement and exasperation. "But don't panic—this time it's wholesome."
"Define wholesome," Haesol replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Someone found a picture of you holding that puppy last night." Yura swiped her screen to show a post: 'Pharmacy girl adopts river pup; the internet melts.'
Haesol groaned. "Fantastic. At this point, she's a walking K-drama trope."
"Cheer up," Yura said. "At least no one's calling her a stalker this time."
"Small victories," Haesol sighed.
By noon, Haesol and Yura were sitting in the university café, Eclipse of Us, its name far cooler than its coffee. The place was packed; every table full of students watching a live broadcast on the big TV mounted on the wall. VEIL was being interviewed on a campus radio show, broadcast directly from their university.
Yura squealed quietly. "Oh my god, they're doing the interview here! I tried to get passes, but it was booked in seconds."
Haesol's eyes fixed on the screen. There he was: Han Jae Hyun. Hair neat, eyes bright, and a polite smile that somehow felt distant—as if it were a performance he didn't entirely believe in.
"Next question!" the host chirped.
"If you could go back and change one moment in your life, what would it be?"
The other members laughed, joking casually. Seo Min teased about sleeping through class. Ji On confessed he would stop himself from bleaching his hair. The café echoed with laughter.
But when it was Jae Hyun's turn, the energy shifted. He leaned toward the mic, fingers tapping lightly on his knee. His voice came steady, quiet, commanding attention without shouting.
"I think… I wouldn't change anything. Even the pain. Even the things that hurt."
The room fell silent. Even the espresso machine seemed to pause, waiting.
He smiled faintly, gaze distant, and added, "Because even if we forget each other, the memories will still be in our hearts."
Something trembled in Haesol's chest. The sound of rushing water filled her ears, her heart clenching as if time itself pressed inward. The words were the same ones she had heard whispered beneath the river centuries ago—the ones that had pulled her back from the edge.
Her fingers gripped her coffee cup tightly.
"Rin?" Yura frowned, leaning closer. "Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
"Maybe she did," Haesol whispered, barely audible.
On the screen, Jae Hyun laughed softly as the host moved on, but for a single, impossible moment, his gaze seemed to find her. Haesol felt it as a pulse, like he was looking directly at her, though logic knew it could not be.
That night, she could not study. Every time her eyes closed, the river returned—blue, endless, and calling her under. A palace shimmered beneath moonlight, and a young man dove fearlessly, hand reaching out to catch hers before darkness swallowed them both. The dream had once felt like fiction. Now it felt like memory.
Professor Woof snored beside her pillow, tiny paws twitching as if he, too, dreamed of a long-gone life.
Haesol whispered softly into the darkness, "She doesn't even know who you were, but you saved her. That's certain. And maybe… she was supposed to save you back."
The moon hung low, a silver circle over a world of echoes.
...
(POV: Han Jae Hyun)
Even hours after the radio interview ended, the words continued to echo in Jae Hyun's mind. Even if we forget each other…
He did not know why he said it. It had slipped out naturally, like muscle memory, something his heart recalled before his brain could intervene.
"Yo, Jae Hyun," Ji On called from across the dorm. "Zoning out again? Thinking about ramen or regrets?"
"Neither," he muttered.
Seo Min smirked. "Our poetic center must've had another existential crisis."
Jae Hyun tossed a pillow at him. "Shut up."
They laughed and returned to their phones, but his chest remained tight. That girl—the one from campus. Her eyes when she had warned them—the certainty, the panic—it was something unfeigned, something innate. Fear had no room here. She was remembering the ending of a story before it even unfolded.
And he could not stop wondering who she was.
....
(POV: Rin Haesol)
The next morning, Professor Woof decided that sleep was overrated and licked Haesol's face at dawn.
"Congratulations," she groaned. "You've upgraded from river rescue to alarm clock."
He barked proudly in response.
By the time she reached campus, gossip had shifted once more. Someone had spotted her carrying a mysterious dog, and the internet speculated whether VEIL's Jae Hyun had gifted it.
"People really need hobbies," Haesol muttered.
Yura snorted. "You are a hobby now. Embrace the chaos."
"Hard pass," Haesol replied.
Still, between classes, her eyes wandered toward the music building, where the interview had been held. There was a pull, a subtle energy, like static beneath her skin.
When lunch arrived, she walked there—slowly, quietly. The hall was empty, stage dark. Sunlight spilled across the polished floorboards, illuminating the dust in golden streams. A faint hum echoed—feedback from a mic left behind.
Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the stand. The same one he had touched.
> "Even if we forget each other, the memories will still be in our hearts."
She whispered it again, chest aching as if she had been living half a life.
That night, the dream returned, sharper than before. The palace gardens bloomed under moonlight. Cherry petals drifted in the air. Somewhere, music played—gentle and distant.
She stood by the railing of a marble bridge, hair pinned with gold, silk dress brushing the ground.
A voice called her name: "Haesol!" She turned. A shadow moved behind her. A shove.
The world spun. Cold water. The roar of the river.
And through the blur, a voice—his voice—crying her name before diving in.
The same heartbeat. The same warmth. The same soul.
Haesol awoke gasping, hand clutching her chest. Professor Woof whimpered softly, curling beside her. The moon outside glowed pale and quiet.
She whispered into the dark:
"Maybe… they didn't forget after all."