Arc 6 : Han's lucid dream

Inside, the hospital was just as cold as the outside. The fluorescent lights flickered above him as he walked through the sterile corridors, the air thick with antiseptic smells. It wasn’t right. This wasn’t where he had been, not even close to the haunted house he’d visited. Every corner he turned only deepened his sense of confusion. The walls seemed to close in on him as his mind spiraled. He couldn’t get the image of Lee Know’s face out of his head. Where was he? Was he even real in this universe? Was it all just a dream? Panic clawed at his chest, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn’t break down. He had to find something that would explain what was happening. His eyes darted to every corner, every room. It was a hospital—there should have been people, staff, patients... but everything was silent. Empty. It felt abandoned, like something was missing, and Han couldn’t figure out what it was. He moved quickly through the halls, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. But as he rounded a corner, he stopped, frozen in place. A door at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar. Han took a step forward, then another, unable to stop himself, desperate to find something—anything—that made sense of the nightmare unfolding around him. But as he reached the door, he hesitated. What if this was just another trick? What if this place was some twisted version of the haunted house? He reached out slowly, pushed the door open— --- Han's pulse was racing as his fingers lingered on the cold doorknob. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to turn back, but the sheer need to know—what was happening to him, where he was, and if there was any way back—overpowered his fear. He pushed the door open, the creak of the hinges too loud in the stillness of the building. The air inside was stale, suffocating. It felt wrong. The room beyond was dim, with only a single lamp flickering at the far end, casting long shadows across the floor. The walls were bare except for a few faded medical charts, and there was a gurney in the center, surrounded by old equipment, like someone had forgotten to clean up after an emergency. Han’s breath caught in his throat. Was this where he was supposed to be? Was this part of the haunted house—or was this something far worse, something he couldn’t even begin to understand? He stepped inside, the floor creaking under his weight. His mind felt like it was being pulled in different directions. Part of him screamed to leave, to find Lee Know, but another part felt frozen—rooted to the spot, as though this place had become his reality. The silence was deafening, and his heartbeat echoed in his ears. Suddenly, a figure appeared in the dim light—an older man in a white lab coat. Han flinched, instinctively stepping back. His mind reeled. Was this someone from his past? A doctor? He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form. His voice felt trapped in his chest. The man’s face was obscured by shadows, his features too blurry to make out. The silence between them stretched, and Han could feel the tension growing, like something was about to break. He swallowed hard. “Who... Who are you?” The man didn’t answer, just stared at him with those haunting, unblinking eyes. The longer Han looked, the more it felt like his entire reality was slipping through his fingers, like the man wasn’t even a person but a shadow—a figment of a dream that didn’t belong in this world. His breath quickened. What is this place? Han thought. Where’s Lee Know? Where’s the rest of Stray Kids? Without warning, the man slowly raised his hand, pointing at Han with a gesture that sent chills down his spine. Han’s heart hammered in his chest as the man’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Han’s eyes widened as something cold and heavy settled over him. He could feel it—something was wrong. The air was thick with dread, and Han knew, deep down, that he shouldn’t be here. But it was too late to turn back. He had to know. He stepped forward cautiously, heart racing, and reached out to the man. As his hand drew closer, the man flickered, like an image on a malfunctioning screen. Han blinked, and when his eyes refocused, the man was gone—vanished into thin air. A wave of dizziness hit Han, as if the room itself was spinning. His stomach churned, and he staggered back, pressing his hand to the wall for support. The flickering light overhead grew erratic, casting rapid, jarring shadows across the room. The world around him seemed to distort, blurring as if it were a dream. Han’s vision doubled, and the walls seemed to pulse, breathing with a life of their own. He stumbled toward the door, gasping for air, trying to steady himself. This isn’t real. This can’t be real, he thought desperately. But the more he tried to grasp the reality of the situation, the more it slipped from his fingers, like trying to hold onto sand in a storm. The door to the hallway slammed shut behind him, and he was plunged into darkness. No, no, no, Han thought, panic rising in his chest as he spun around, looking for any sign of light or escape. He had to get out. This place—this nightmare—was swallowing him whole. He fumbled for his phone, hands trembling as he tried to turn on the screen. He needed to call someone, anyone. He needed to hear a familiar voice. But when he swiped the screen, the display was blank. The contacts, the messages—everything was gone. There was nothing but static, an empty screen that mocked him. The silence was oppressive. He could hear nothing but his own ragged breathing and the frantic beat of his heart. "Lee Know hyung, didn’t you promise to find me if we ever got separated?" Han whispered to himself. Then, a voice. Soft. Far away. “Jagiya…” He froze. That voice. It sounded like Lee Know’s voice—faint, distorted, as if it were coming from another world. Han’s breath hitched, and he spun in a circle, trying to locate the source. But the voice seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Lee Know hyung?” Han whispered, his voice hoarse. “Irinoo, where are you?” The voice came again, this time louder, clearer, “Han...” A surge of hope flooded through Han’s chest. He could still hear it—Lee Know’s voice. He wasn’t alone. Lee Know was out there, somewhere. Han couldn’t give up now. He ran toward the voice, pushing through the growing darkness, determined to find his way back, to escape this twisted place. And then, as the light flickered again, everything went black. As the oppressive blackness engulfed Han, a deep, unsettling silence settled around him. His mind raced, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t breathe; it felt as though the very air around him was being sucked out of the room. And then, with a sudden shift, the blackness receded. Han blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the light that flickered intermittently above him. He was no longer in the hospital or the haunted house, but in a strange, unfamiliar space that seemed to pulse with each flicker. The walls were a blur, distorted, and the atmosphere felt heavy. The flickering lights only added to the confusion, giving everything an eerie, dreamlike quality. And then he saw him. Lying on the cold floor in the middle of the space, was I.N. Han’s heart skipped a beat. His chest tightened, relief washing over him as he quickly pushed himself forward. I.N. I.N. He's here. He's really here. Han couldn’t believe it. After all this time, after everything he had been through, he found someone he recognized—someone from his universe. Someone from Stray Kids. “I.N!” Han cried out, his voice trembling with emotion. He ran toward him, his steps fast and desperate, hoping to close the distance. He had to make sure I.N was okay. It didn’t matter where they were, this strange, flickering world—I.N was here. But as Han approached, the reality of the situation hit him like a wave. I.N wasn’t moving. Han skidded to a halt next to him, his heart sinking. He knelt down and gently touched I.N’s shoulder. His body was cold, unmoving. His eyes were closed, and there was no sign of life. Han’s hands shook as he frantically called his name. “I.N, wake up! Come on, wake up!” Han urged, his voice rising with panic. He shook I.N slightly, hoping, praying for a reaction. This can’t be happening, Han thought desperately. He has to wake up. But no response came. Han’s breath hitched as he checked I.N’s pulse—there was nothing. His heart dropped further into his stomach, and the sense of helplessness swept over him again. “I.N, please. Please wake up!” Han repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but full of raw, pleading desperation. His hands moved to I.N's face, gently brushing the hair from his forehead, as if trying to connect with him in any way he could. He had to make sure I.N wasn’t lost here like he was, trapped in this weird place. The space around him flickered again, distorting the world even more. But through the broken static, Han could hear the faintest whisper. “I.N...” Han whispered again, his heart aching with the emptiness of the situation. He couldn’t leave him here. He couldn’t abandon his friend, his fellow member. Han took a deep breath, fighting back tears. There’s got to be a way out. I just need to find it. I’ll get I.N out of here. But as he stared down at I.N, the flickering light overhead intensified, making it harder to see clearly. Han’s thoughts became a blur. What if I’m too late? What if I’m trapped here forever? Still, Han refused to give up. He kept calling I.N’s name over and over, his voice growing hoarse with the effort. But with every passing moment, the uncertainty of their situation grew. The flickering light kept messing with his senses, and he felt like he might collapse at any second. “I.N… please...” Han’s voice was barely audible now, his throat tight from the worry and fear that threatened to swallow him whole. “Please wake up. I need you.” He could feel his panic rising again, but this time, something stronger burned within him. A determination. He wasn’t going to let this place—this nightmare—take I.N from him. He was going to get him back. And then, with the next flicker, everything went black again. *** As the blackness took over, the only thing I.N. could hear was the faint, distant sound of his name being called. It felt like a dream, but not quite. He was caught somewhere in between—trapped in his own mind. He was aware, but his body refused to listen. “I.N...” The voice called again, louder this time. It was familiar, full of warmth and desperation. Han. I.N. knew it was Han. I’m here, he thought, willing himself to speak. I’m here, Han. Please, hear me. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he whispered those words in his mind, his voice never reached out. It was as if he was surrounded by a wall, a barrier that muted everything, including his own presence. He could feel the voice of Han calling for him, but he could not respond. Please, he pleaded inside his head, but it felt like his thoughts were lost in an infinite void. The darkness pressed in from all sides, and he was still trapped within it, unable to break free. His body felt heavier, colder, as though he were drifting further away. “I’m here…” he whispered again, his breath barely escaping his lips. But the walls of his silence remained unbroken, and Han’s voice continued to call out, unaware that I.N. was still fighting to awaken. But no matter how much he wanted to reach out, no matter how desperately he wished to be found, the only thing he could hear was the faint echo of his own voice, trapped in his mind, never heard by anyone else.