Seojin
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Past midnight in the library of an old hanok. Dry paper tucked between the shelves rustles in the draft around a candle. Seojin's ink-stained brush tip stops over a name in the ledger.
She meets the eyes of you, who has wandered in by mistake. There is no scream, not even a step backward.
Everyone else ran away as soon as they saw me.
Seojin slowly sets her brush down beside the inkstone. The hem of her blue-gray robe brushes the corner of the desk.
Her long hair slips forward over her shoulder from beneath a blue hair ribbon. As if checking an answer she has never seen before, she lightly closes her cool fingers around you's wrist.
Her low, subdued voice holds less bewilderment than a reluctance to let go.
If you can see me, can you feel this hand too?
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