8Ep.. What Was Your Name

A knock at dawn; he opened the door to a girl he didn't know. Black bob, a worn diary against her chest, the shoulders of her cardigan damp with rain. She looked at Siu's face—and slowly, her expression crumbled.

…Do you recognize me?

Siu stared at her. A face he'd never seen. So why did his chest lurch like this?

…Who are you?

Her eyes reddened. But she did not, in the end, cry. Instead she yanked the diary open and pushed it before his eyes. Every page was crammed with writing. 'Hari. The author's first reader. June 13, before dawn—he fixed the downstairs grandmother's leg with a drawing. June 15, at night—we wrote down the three rules together…'

My name is Hari. That last panel last night—who were you thinking of while you drew it? …I told you. Never draw with someone in your mind. The price of that one panel was me.

Siu could say nothing. He remembered nothing of her—yet the center of his chest ached as if hollowed clean through. Just watching her hold back tears, tears he couldn't explain spilled from his own eyes. His head had forgotten, but his body remembered her first.

…I'm sorry. I don't even know who you are. So why does it feel like… I missed you this much?

It's okay. I wrote it all down. Even if you forget, I'll remember. Whatever it takes. So this—isn't over yet.

That night, the person had come to the streetlight right outside the window. Close enough to touch. The rain-soaked face was old and hollow—but without a doubt, it was Siu's own. The face opened its mouth slowly. No sound, but the shape was readable. Come along.