BP 107

In his own dream, the blue-grey night sky remained unchanged. It was empty and cold. Staring blankly at the sky, Seung-hyun narrowed his eyes at a sudden gust of wind.

His fingertips were cold. Had his body been chilled? He clenched and unclenched his stiff, frozen hands before finally interlocking them.

The coat he was wearing fluttered in the wind. Old and out of season, it was imbued with the exhausted and fierce past of the 13th District. Seung-hyun pulled the collar close and smelled it. As the familiar scent rushed into his nose, a slight feeling of longing arose.