The Polaroid spat out its photo with a familiar mechanical whirr. Dennis caught it mid-air before it hit the ground. Everyone leaned in, watching as the blurry image slowly sharpened into focus. He gave it a quick shake. Pointless, sure, but some habits die hard.

Finding a hair or some plastic in packaged food would be bad enough. But drugs? That was something else entirely. Seojun felt his eye widen as the full weight of it sank in.

So, there they were, Seojun’s truck rumbling onto a pretty deserted-looking road, tailing the van up ahead. Brown and Luciel were in that one. The sky overhead was a vast, clear blue. A cool morning breeze rustled through the reeds, and every so often, the sweet chirping of birds would sneak past the truck’s windows.

“Does she really have wings? Did you ever see them?”

“Are you kidding?” Kira shot him a look that questioned his sanity. She leaned back against the grimy wall, rolling the cigarette between her fingers. “It’s just bullshit crazies say when they’ve lost touch with reality.”

The idea of “rotting together as ghost soulmates” didn’t land as romantic. It hit Seojun like a physical blow, a chilling confession that stole the feeling from his tongue. His mind seized, every synapse screaming the same frantic message: Pretend you didn’t hear that. Pretend this isn’t happening.

The glass was cold against his fingertips, exactly as expected. But beneath that chill, something else pulsed... a faint, unexpected warmth. Behind his closed eyelids, a spark of light bloomed in the darkness. Regret knotted instantly in Seojun’s stomach, but it was already too late.