Alara held the golden chalk tightly in her palm, her eyes darting toward the closed door with a sense of guarded paranoia. Outside, the mundane clatter of dishes echoed through the hallway—the familiar, grounding soundtrack of her middle-class reality. But inside her room, a different world existed; a sacred corner draped in shades of MidnightBlue.
Every inch of this small space was a silent tribute to LUMENIX. From the blue ribbons tied to her lamp to the hidden sketches of LeeSu-ho, her entire soul lived within the melodies he sang. To the rest of the world, he was the untouchable lead vocalist, but to Alara, he was the only person who truly understood her loneliness. When he cried on screen during a concert, Alara's own pillow would be soaked with tears in this humid city, thousands of miles away.
"We breathe the same air," she whispered to the empty, shadowed room, "yet our worlds are so far apart that we might as well be on different planets."
Determined to drown her longing in art, she reached for her supplies. She began to work on a new painting, pouring every ounce of her devotion into the canvas. Time seemed to liquefy as she focused on the specific curve of his smile and the unique light in his eyes. By the time she neared completion, the clock on her wall struck midnight, and a sharp, parching thirst hit her.
Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her eyes landed on the GoldenChalk sitting innocently on her desk. She had tried to use it on her sketches earlier, but the chalk had stubbornly refused to leave a mark on paper. It remained dry and lifeless, as if it were waiting for a different kind of canvas.
Frustrated and too exhausted to walk to the kitchen, a reckless thought crossed her mind. She didn't want to risk waking her family or dealing with the cold reality of the hallway. I wish I could just be in the kitchen right now, she thought intensely.
She grabbed the chalk, walked toward the faded wall, and pressed it against the plaster. To her shock, the chalk didn't crumble like ordinary limestone. Instead, it glided like liquid fire. A brilliant, ethereal golden glow erupted from the wall, and as she completed a wide arc, a shimmering door manifested out of thin air.
Alara froze, her breath hitching in her chest. Through the glowing golden ring, she wasn't looking at her wallpaper anymore. She was looking directly into her kitchen. She could see the moonlight hitting the steel countertop and the water pitcher sitting exactly where she had left it.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Terrified yet consumed by curiosity, she reached her hand out. Her fingers passed through the glow and felt the cooler, stagnant air of the kitchen. It was real. This wasn't a hallucination or a vivid dream.
Suddenly, panic overtook her wonder. What if someone sees the light? she thought frantically. She scrambled back, desperately rubbing at the golden line with her sleeve until the portal flickered and vanished, leaving the wall solid once more.
With trembling hands, Alara shoved the chalk into a box and snapped the lid shut. Her thirst was forgotten, replaced by a haunting, electric realization that made her blood run cold and hot at the same time. If she could reach the kitchen with a simple stroke of gold, she could reach Seoul. She could finally reach him.