2Ep.. Cold Coffee

He let go of the curtain.

The fabric fell back into place, hiding the alley. His back was drenched in cold sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs from the inside. That umbrella-less face, looking up straight at him, was burned behind his eyelids and would not leave.

For a long while he pressed his back to the wall, catching his breath. Then, finally, he lifted the curtain again with his fingertips. He had to check. Whether what he'd seen was real.

The alley was gone. Just the usual view—one streetlight, the recycling bins, the dark windows of the next building. No rain, no neon, no one. Siu stared blankly at that merciless ordinariness.

…Was it a dream?

He wanted to believe it. He opened his messages. The unknown number, and 'Now it's your turn'—they were still there. Unerased.

Morning came, ordinary as a lie. He woke the tablet—and there it was, last night's alley, every streak of rain still saved. Not a dream. The drawing, at least.

He had never even pressed save. Only now did that land, and his hand went still. For three years he had been posting to the free-serialization board—a webtoon with readers he could count on one hand. He opened the board, and there it was: a single drawing of the alley, posted under last night's date. The upload time was stamped there, neat and exact. He had no memory of posting it.

That wasn't the only strange thing. He couldn't remember what he'd eaten last night. Ramen? With someone… or alone? A corner of the day was missing, as if cut out with scissors, the edges left smooth. Just tired, he told himself, and let it go.

Then his phone buzzed. On the alley he had never posted, a comment had appeared.

Author, I know this alley. But… it's a place that was never supposed to exist.

Siu's finger stopped over the screen. He had pulled that alley out of his head only last night. He had never posted it, never shown it to anyone. And she knew it? Knew, even, that it was a place that did not exist?

His heart raced again. And beside the fear, a small, wicked impulse lifted its head. Was it real? If I draw it… does it happen?

His eyes fell on last night's cold coffee. Siu picked up the pen. A cup of fresh, warm coffee, steam curling up. Not as a joke—but, strangely, in earnest. His hands were cold, and he wanted something warm.

Steam rose from the cup. Siu watched it without breathing. Slowly he cupped the mug in his hands. Hot. Real. Warmth spread across his palms even as a chill crawled up his spine. The laugh and the fear came at once.

And in that very instant—somewhere in his mind emptied again, without a sound. The last person he had called yesterday… who was it? The name, the voice, even the fact that the call had happened—all gone, smoothly.

When a single alley had overturned the entire world outside his window, what vanished was one dinner. A single cup of coffee took a person. Siu set the mug down. The sums did not add up.

In the black, dead monitor his own face was reflected. A stranger. As if seen for the first time.

The phone trembled briefly. A message from Hari.

Author… are you forgetting things, by any chance?

Siu slowly raised his head to the window. Beneath the streetlight, that person stood again. One step—closer than last night.