Chapter Text
Lee Sangwon was a scientist. He was governed entirely by facts and empirical evidence. In his world, everything was reduced cleanly to cells, chemical reactions, and measurable systems. If it couldn’t be quantified or replicated, it wasn’t real.
If not for an invitation from a potential research grant opportunity, he wouldn’t have come to an art exhibition at all. It sat too far outside the boundaries of anything he considered relevant to his work. So when he stood in the middle of the gallery, he felt fundamentally out of place.
And yet, against every expectation he had ever held about probability and logic, he found an image of himself hanging on the wall of an art exhibit.
The painting occupied the largest wall in the gallery, illuminated by warm overhead lights that made the oil painting seem almost alive. Other guests drifted through the room with glasses of wine and exhibition pamphlets in hand, pausing in front of landscapes, abstract pieces, and portraits. Yet despite all the artwork surrounding him, Sangwon’s attention remained fixed on the enormous canvas before him.
Because the man in the painting was him. Not just similar or vaguely familiar. It was uncannily him.
The portrait was nearly life-sized. A blonde man stood against an off-white background, his expression thoughtful and distant. Every detail was perfect, from the shape of his nose to the slight wave in his hair and the two barely noticeable moles on his left cheek. Even the way his eyes seemed to carry a quiet melancholy felt strangely accurate.
Sangwon stared for nearly two minutes before finally muttering, "Is this some kind of joke?"
Two other guests standing nearby glanced at the portrait.
"He's handsome," the woman said.
"He looks sad," the other added.
Sangwon almost laughed. It was like he had just subjected himself to the criticism of everyone in the room. Every comment felt invasive and surreal.
He lifted a hand and rubbed at his eyes, a clinical attempt to correct what had to be a perceptual error. But as his sight sharpened once again, he realized that he was unmistakably looking at a painting of himself.
Curiosity eventually drew him toward the description card mounted beneath the frame.
The Man In My Dreams. Portrait of the man who haunts me in my sleep. By Lee Leo.
Sangwon blinked before reading it again. And again. Yet the words refused to change, and a strange sensation crawled up his spine.
Before he could dwell on it any longer, a voice spoke behind him.
"Interesting, isn't it?"
Sangwon turned.
The artist stood only a few feet away.
Lee Leo was younger than Sangwon expected. His picture in the exhibition pamphlet did not do him justice. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and broad shoulders hidden beneath a simple black sweater. He stood slightly taller than Sangwon, and there was something calm about him that immediately drew attention.
His gaze moved from Sangwon to the portrait and back again.
"You painted this?" Sangwon asked.
Leo nodded.
"It looks exactly like me."
"I know. I almost dropped my wine glass when you walked in. It was like seeing a ghost suddenly coming back to life."
The answer came so quickly that Sangwon couldn't help laughing.
"This is a little creepy," Sangwon replied.
"Believe me, it is. You… well, at least the image of you, had haunted me for years. For years you were just in my dreams, and suddenly you’re here in front of me."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. It felt as though they had started a conversation halfway through and neither knew where the beginning had gone.
Then Leo tilted his head slightly. "Do you believe in soulmates?"
Sangwon stared at him. "What?"
"Soulmates," Leo repeated with complete seriousness.
Sangwon burst out laughing. "No."
Leo didn't laugh. "Why not?"
"Because I believe in facts, and something had to have a concrete evidence for it to exist."
A small smile touched Leo's face. "You truly don’t believe that there’s someone out there whose soul is bound to yours?"
"Is that a pick-up line?” Sangwon asked in disbelief.
To his surprise, Leo's smile widened slightly. Leo was about to answer when he was interrupted by the ringing of Sangwon’s phone.
Sangwon and his friends had plans to have dinner that night, and he had lost track of time. Sangwon excused himself, too weirded out to allow the conversation to continue, and eventually left the gallery, convinced that the entire encounter was one of the strangest experiences of his life.
He fully expected never to think about it again.
Unfortunately, life seemed to have other plans.
The next evening, Sangwon went to the cinema alone after work. He had been looking forward to watching Obsession, though not for the reasons most people would assume. What interested him was the premise. Something about it echoed his own experiments: the patterns of fixation, the repetition of behavior that persisted beyond reason, the way a subject could become locked onto a single stimulus until everything else faded into background noise. In mice, it was lever presses that should have stopped. In humans, it seemed to be something far less measurable and predictable.
While people searched for seats and trailers played across the screen, Sangwon happened to glance toward one of the exits. Leo stood there, just watching him. The sight was so unexpected that Sangwon sat upright. The artist remained motionless for only a second before someone walked between them. When Sangwon looked again, the figure was gone.
Sangwon shook his head. With all the hype surrounding the movie, it had clearly gotten into his head. He brushed the thought from his mind and spent the rest of the night absorbed in the film.
A week later, he spotted Leo in a grocery store. The artist stood near the fruit aisle, examining a display of oranges. Sangwon immediately abandoned his shopping cart and headed toward him. It seemed impossible, but perhaps fate had a strange sense of humor.
Yet when he reached the aisle, the person standing there was an elderly man comparing apples. There was no man wearing a black sweater. No dark hair. No Leo.
The string of incidents continued. At train stations. Across busy intersections. Sometimes Sangwon would see Leo standing on the opposite side of the street. Sometimes he would catch sight of him in mirrors. Sometimes he would swear he recognized him in passing, only for the stranger to turn around and reveal an entirely different face.
At first, he blamed exhaustion, and then the stress of failing to secure his research grant.
But as days turned into weeks, those explanations became harder to believe. Because Leo seemed to be everywhere.
One afternoon, Sangwon met his friends at their usual café. Kim Junseo arrived first and immediately stole one of the sugar packets despite never putting sugar in his coffee. Zhou Anxin arrived several minutes later, carrying enough energy to compensate for everyone else in the building. As always, Sangwon ordered cheesecake and lemonade, and as always, Junseo stole a bite before asking permission.
"You've been weird lately," Anxin observed.
"Thanks," Sangwon replied sarcastically.
"You know what I mean."
Sangwon sighed and set down his fork. "I keep seeing that artist."
Junseo immediately looked interested. "The soulmate guy?"
"Please don't call him that."
"The soulmate guy," Junseo repeated.
Sangwon explained everything, from what he saw in the cinema to the grocery store and the disappearing figures.
By the time he finished, both of his friends wore identical expressions of amusement.
Anxin pointed at him dramatically. "You're in love."
"I'm not," Sangwon said.
"You absolutely are," Anxin insisted.
Junseo nodded in agreement.
"When you're obsessed with someone, you start seeing them everywhere," Anxin explained.
"Obsessed? Me?" Sangwon felt offended. He wasn’t the type to obsess over anyone or anything.
"Hopelessly."
"I'm not obsessed and I’m certainly not in love!" Sangwon protested.
Sangwon groaned. His friends were impossible. The conversation continued for nearly an hour, but their conclusion never changed. By the time they parted ways, Sangwon felt more frustrated than before.
Yet later that night, lying awake in bed, he found himself staring at the ceiling and remembering Leo's question.
"Do you believe in soulmates?"
The word felt absurd. Almost childish. And yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.
His thoughts drifted to Leo over and over again. A man he had never met had somehow painted his face. A man who claimed to dream about him had now seemed to appear in every corner of his life.
Perhaps there really was some invisible thread connecting them. Perhaps Leo had spent years haunted by dreams of him and now the haunting had changed direction.
The thought should have unsettled him. Instead, it made his heart race.
Sangwon took his phone and made a quick search. The exhibit's final day was tomorrow.
Sangwon told himself he was only curious when he made his plan to return.
The next day, Sangwon stepped foot in the exhibition hall once more. He hesitated coming in, but when he saw a crowd coming out, he gathered all the courage he had and went inside. The gallery felt quieter than before. Many of the paintings had already been removed, leaving empty spaces on the walls. Workers moved through the rooms, already preparing for closing time.
When Sangwon entered the main gallery, disappointment hit him immediately.
The portrait was gone. His portrait was gone. Only a small red sticker remained beside the empty space: SOLD.
He hated how disappointed he felt. It was just a painting. A strange one at that, but still just a painting. Yet he still found himself staring at the empty wall.
"You came back." The familiar voice made him turn.
Leo stood there.
For a moment neither of them moved.
The entire month seemed to collapse into that single instant. Every strange sighting. Every restless thought. Every conversation with Junseo and Anxin.
Leo looked exactly as Sangwon remembered: dark-haired, broad-shouldered, quietly handsome, though now wearing a different button-up shirt, with his hair brushed up—totally different from the black sweater-wearing apparition he used to see.
The sight of him made Sangwon smile before he could stop himself.
This time, Sangwon broke the silence first. "Do you believe in soulmates?"
Something flickered across Leo's face before he nodded. "Yes."
The answer came immediately and with certainty.
Unlike the first time, Sangwon didn't laugh as warmth spread through his chest instead.
Something about the moment felt inevitable, as though he had spent weeks walking toward it without realizing.
"Would you like coffee?" Sangwon asked.
Leo considered the question. "It's quite late for coffee."
Sangwon nodded in realization. It was already past 9 p.m.
"Can we just have cheesecake and lemonade? I know a place nearby that offers the best." Leo said.
Sangwon froze. His pulse stumbled, then accelerated. The combination he ordered every single time he visited his favorite café. Their similar tastes made his heart feel like it was exploding in his chest.
"Sure," Sangwon answered.
For the first time, Leo smiled fully. And suddenly he seemed less mysterious. Suddenly, for Sangwon, Leo was just a man standing in front of him. A man who somehow occupied every corner of his thoughts.
Perhaps his friends had been right. Perhaps this was love.
Before they could leave, however, Leo glanced toward a door near the back of the gallery.
"My studio is at the back," he said. "I just need to lock it first."
"No problem."
"I'll only be a minute," Leo assured him.
Sangwon waited near the entrance while Leo disappeared through the door.
The studio beyond was silent. Warm evening light spilled through the windows, illuminating rows of canvases stacked against the walls.
At the center of the room stood The Man In My Dreams.
The painting had never been sold. Leo approached it slowly. For several moments, he simply stared.
Then his gaze shifted elsewhere—across the studio, toward the dozens and dozens of paintings surrounding it. Every single one featured the same subject: Lee Sangwon.
Sangwon sitting in a cinema. Sangwon standing in the fruit aisle of a grocery store. Sangwon crossing a street. Sangwon reading on a park bench. Sangwon laughing with his friends in a café. Sangwon eating cheesecake. Sangwon drinking lemonade. Sangwon checking his phone. Sangwon walking home beneath the rain.
Sangwon in dozens of moments, and dozens of observations, all painted with painstaking accuracy. Not imagined. Not dreamed. Observed.
Leo's fingers brushed the edge of the first portrait, the one that had started everything. A soft smile appeared on his face, an expression of someone admiring a treasure collected over many years.
Outside the studio, completely unaware, Sangwon checked the time on his phone and wondered whether soulmates always found each other in such ridiculous ways.
Leo switched off the lights. The studio fell into darkness. Then Leo locked the door behind him. As the door closed, dozens of painted versions of Sangwon vanished into shadow.
Sangwon brightened the moment he saw Leo walking back into the gallery. "Ready?"
Leo looked at him for a long second, then smiled. "Ready."
Together they walked toward the exit, with Sangwon not realizing what Leo was ready for.