With trepidation in my heart, I decided to take a shower. They say, taking a shower helps you concentrate.

As the warm water cascaded over my body, I tried to ground myself, to let the steam and the sensation of the shower wash away the overwhelming thoughts racing through my mind. The revelation that Mai and her world were real people, not just figments of my imagination, had shattered my perception of reality. Who was I, really, if the dreams that had defined my life were memories of someone else's existence?

The steam enveloped me, creating a cocoon where I could hide from the enormity of the truth. I closed my eyes, letting the water trace the contours of my body, trying to find solace in the rhythmic drumming against my skin. The warmth seeped into my muscles, easing the tension but doing little to quiet the storm inside my mind.

Suddenly, I heard a soft knock on the bathroom door, followed by the creak of it opening. "Kook?" Her voice called out hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

I didn't respond immediately, lost in the thoughts swirling around. But then, I heard her footsteps retreating. "Wait, my love," I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the tiled space. "Don't go."

She paused, and I could see her silhouette through the frosted glass of the shower door. "You're taking a shower," she said, her tone a mix of concern and something else, something deeper.

"Join me," I said, surprising myself with the boldness in my voice. "We need to talk."

There was a brief hesitation. I could feel her deliberation, the weight of the decision pressing on her. She took a deep breath, and the door to the shower slid open. She stepped in, her eyes searching mine for answers, for understanding. The water hit her skin, creating rivulets that traced down her body, mingling with mine. The air between us was thick with unspoken words and an electric tension.

She stood there, hesitating, her vulnerability stark against the backdrop of steam and water. It was her first time being so intimately close with a man, and I could see the apprehension in her eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

I nodded, reaching out to gently pull her closer. "I'm sure," I whispered back, my voice steady. "I need you here with me."

As she stepped fully into the shower, her movements were slow and tentative. The warmth of her body against mine was a grounding force, something real to hold onto in the midst of my inner chaos. I ran my hands gently down her arms, feeling her shiver not from the cold, but from the intimate touch.

"Relax," I murmured, pressing my forehead against hers. "It's just us."

She took a deep breath, her body gradually relaxing against mine. The intimacy of the moment was not just physical but deeply emotional. I could feel her trust, her willingness to step into this unknown with me.

In that moment, the gravity of seeing her bare for the first time hit me with an intensity I hadn't anticipated. The sight of her, vulnerable and exposed, stirred something deep within me—a bubbling sensation that was a mix of awe, desire, and a profound sense of connection. The water flowed between us, a warm veil that added to the intimacy, as I traced the droplets that clung to her skin.

Her eyes met mine, filled with a blend of apprehension and curiosity. I could see her trying to adjust to the newness of the situation, her breaths coming in shallow, nervous gasps. I wanted to reassure her, to let her know that this was as new and overwhelming for me as it was for her. The sight of her bare skin, the feel of her warmth against me, ignited a fire that spread through my veins, a young man's raw, unfiltered reaction to the woman he loved.

Gently, I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the droplets of water from her cheeks. "You're beautiful," I whispered, my voice husky with emotion. The words seemed to reverberate in the steamy enclosure, a truth that was undeniable in that moment.

She blushed, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink, and I felt her body lean into mine, seeking the comfort and reassurance that only I could provide. My hands moved slowly, reverently, exploring the lines and curves of her body as if committing every inch to memory. The sensation of her skin beneath my fingertips was intoxicating, each touch deepening the connection between us.

She closed her eyes, letting out a soft sigh as she surrendered to the moment. I could feel her hesitation melting away, replaced by a burgeoning trust and an acceptance of the intimacy we were sharing. My own heart was pounding, the reality of being so close to her, so completely vulnerable, both exhilarating and terrifying.

I pulled her closer, our bodies pressed together, the heat of the water and our shared emotions creating a cocoon of warmth and connection. I could feel her heartbeat, rapid and strong, echoing my own. Every touch, every caress was a silent conversation, an unspoken promise that we were in this together.

Her fingers traced patterns on my back, tentative at first but growing bolder with each passing second. The feeling of her touch sent shivers down my spine, a delicious contrast to the warmth that enveloped us. I could see the uncertainty in her eyes giving way to a newfound confidence, a willingness to explore this new territory together.

Our breaths mingled, the air thick with the scent of soap and the warmth of our combined body heat. I leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss that quickly deepened, fueled by the pent-up desire and the raw emotion that coursed through us. The kiss was a mix of softness and urgency, a reflection of the storm of feelings that we both felt.

My hands moved to her waist, pulling her even closer, and she responded in kind, her arms wrapping around my neck. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the two of us, bound together by the water and our shared vulnerability. The sensation of her bare skin against mine was a revelation, a physical manifestation of the emotional bond we had built.

I broke the kiss, resting my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the steamy air. "I love you," I whispered, the words carrying the weight of my emotions. "More than I can ever express."

She smiled, a beautiful, radiant smile that lit up her face. "I love you too, Kook," she replied, her voice soft and full of sincerity.

We stood there for a moment, letting the water flow over us, the intimacy of the shower deepening our connection. The bubbling sensation within me was a reminder of the profound effect she had on me, a mix of physical desire and a deeper, emotional bond that went beyond the surface.

Finally, I took a deep breath, ready to share the secrets that had been haunting me. "I have to tell you something," I began, my voice trembling with the weight of what I was about to reveal. "Something I haven't told anyone."

Her eyes searched mine, full of trust and curiosity. "What is it, Kook?"

"Until yesterday, everyone was unreal. Mai was unreal, Hyung was a phantom, Ahyun was an illusion—they didn’t exist. Even your mother, Ju Gyeong, she was just a figment of my imagination. But now, suddenly, they’re all real, living people." My breath felt constricted, my heart pounding.

She closed her eyes and held me tightly in her arms. My muscles contracted, but her embrace slowly calmed my racing thoughts.

"I know, Kook."

"And, do you know what scares me the most?"

"Blood and death, especially losing someone close," she whispered.

"You know?"

"Yes, I do. I’ve feared the death of loved ones too. I’ve seen them die, then new relationships build and again die in my life."

"Have you ever seen yourself die?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

Her expression shifted from comfort to deep concern. Her eyes bore into mine, filled with worry. If your boyfriend says that he sees himself die after you just told that you fear losing loved ones, should be an official crime.

"That’s what I’ve never told anyone. That’s what I wanted to share with you."

"Proceed."

"Maybe it's not really me who dies in my dreams. Maybe he was just as alive as Mai, just as lively as us. He was Mai’s lover. Technically, he’s your grandfather. I’ve seen him die. I’ve seen him bleed and scream for Mai until his last breath." My hands shook uncontrollably as I spoke.

"My mother always said her father left her and her mother for another woman."

"Your mother never knew the truth. He never wanted to leave any of them. He wanted to marry Mai, build a family, and create a world together. He was a painter, which is why I’ve always felt a connection to him. Or so I think."

"Have you seen him?"

"Yes. He was me. Or maybe, I am him. The connection is still unclear to me. I’ve seen him and Mai in intimate moments. I felt her touch, heard her voice, and her presence was overwhelming."

"What are you implying?" she asked, her tone growing defensive.

"I feel your hands on me now. I hear your voice. Your presence mirrors what I felt with Mai. But it wasn’t Mai. Before I met you, I never saw her face. I only saw two children. After I got to know you, I saw Mai for the first time during that car accident. That wasn't the day I realized but now I do, that Mai was you."

Her grip tightened, her breath shallow, as we stood there, the weight of my confession hanging between us.

"What do you want to suggest?" Hadn't her voice cracked or her lips quivered the slightest, I'd have never known that the water droplets on her ever so soft cheeks were her tears.

"I don't have anything to suggest, love. What I want to say is that Mai, was only Mai when I met you. Never before. And given that, I think it's safe to say that the Lieutenant I've seen with my face, is really his face."

"So, you're implying that you were my grandmother's paramour?" she inquired.

"Am I?" I arched an eyebrow, a self-deprecating smile playing on my lips. She emitted a soft chuckle.

"Are you?" She pivoted gracefully, exiting the shower with an unexpected swiftness. Jolted from my reverie, I hurriedly followed her.

"Ahoy! Wait!" I called out as she darted down the stairs, clutching my towel. Groping blindly in my haste, I managed to don a pair of ill-fitting pajamas.

As I pursued her, it dawned on me that her descent had been a mere diversion; she was now en route to her bedroom. Like a predator on the prowl, I crept towards her sanctuary. Irresistibly drawn to her, I reached for the doorknob, finding it unlatched.

A moth drawn to fire is a mere representation of love. My heart had a city and the only population in it was her. For I cannot assure if I was Mai's paramour but she sure was mine.