Orla:
It was Monday morning, and the first day back on set felt like a breath of fresh air. A few days had passed since I was discharged from the hospital, and now I was back to work, hoping to ease into the flow of things after everything that had happened. My first day back wasn’t supposed to be too intense—just simple, still scenes with the horses. The director, clearly wanting to avoid any further incidents, was making sure we took it easy today. That suited me just fine. I needed this slow pace to rebuild my confidence.
Since the accident, there had been a strange atmosphere surrounding the set. Everyone was more cautious, almost tiptoeing around the subject. Two crew members in the hospital after that day—the same day I fell from Raven. And still, no one could quite explain where Milo and I had disappeared to, or how Joon had found us so far apart and both unconscious. The whispers floated around, but no one had real answers. And to be honest, neither did I.
I was standing in the stable lounge, pulling on my riding boots, preparing for the day’s filming. I glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall near some lockers, adjusting my gear, when something stopped me in my tracks. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but I saw it—a brief, fleeting glitch in the reflection. The consort version of myself. The intricate hairstyle, the regal posture, the golden binyeo.
My heart stopped, my breath hitching in my throat. For a split second, I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but there she was. Me, but not me. The consort.
And that’s when I recognized it. A pattern. A foreboding in this apparition. It wasn’t the first time. The last time this started happening, I had been in my right mind—or at least, I thought I had been. This was before the coma, before everything changed. Even then, the doctors had said I was fine. My brain scans had come back normal, no signs of trauma. So why did this keep happening?
Each time, the appearance of the consort seemed to carry a warning, though I couldn’t always piece it together fast enough. Something... someone. I didn’t know where it was coming from, but every time I saw her, it was like a shadow of something looming. A sign. And the unease that followed was never wrong.
Before I could fully process it, a voice pulled me out of my daze. “Orla?” A girl with a headset and a clipboard rushed up to me, breathless, clearly one of the production assistants running errands for the day.
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“Yes, I’m Orla,” I replied, still rattled from the moment.
“This is for you,” she said, thrusting a small box into my hands.
I stared at the box, my stomach twisting. I knew that box. It was the same box from my dream. The same box that had held the golden binyeo.
No. It couldn’t be.
My hand trembled slightly as I held it, trying to convince myself it was just a coincidence. But before I could open it, Milo walked in, his face lighting up with excitement.
“You ready?” he asked, flashing me that boyish smile that always managed to ease my nerves.
I forced a smile, feeling my pulse race. “A little nervous,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry,” he said, stepping closer. “We’ve got this. It’s just simple scenes today.”
I nodded, though my mind wasn’t on the scenes at all. It was on the box in my hands. Milo’s eyes followed mine, and he frowned. “What’s that?”
“I’m… not sure,” I replied, my voice trailing off, though deep down, I already knew what was inside.
A wave of fear surged through me as my fingers hesitated over the box. Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened it. The golden binyeo gleamed up at me, glittering in all its dream-like glory. My eyes widened in shock. It was exactly the same.
Milo’s face mirrored my own disbelief. He stared at the binyeo, then at me, his mouth slightly agape.
Before I could say anything, I caught the production assistant heading out. I rushed after her, calling, “Wait! Who sent this?”
She stopped and turned around, casually pointing behind her. “The man who brought it is outside. He asked me to give it to you.”
Milo and I exchanged a look, like the weight of some unspoken understanding passed between us.
Wait, does he know?
Together, we stepped outside, and that’s when I saw him.
Logan. Standing there in his best business suit, looking every bit as regal and polished as the last time I saw him. My heart dropped.
Without even realizing it, Milo and I both said the same words, almost in unison.
“The King?”
The moment we spoke, the shock on our faces deepened as we turned to each other.
“Wait. You—“ I started, unable to finish.
“You know?” Milo asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I cocked my head at him, my mind racing. How could this be? Does he know? There’s no way.
My thoughts spun wildly as I tried to grasp what was happening. Could we have both experienced the same dream? A shared dream? How could that even be possible? It defied everything I understood about reality. Yet, here we were, standing in the same moment, the weight of the realization seeming to crash over us both.
Everything about this moment suddenly made sense, and yet, no sense at all.
I stared at Milo, my heart pounding in my chest as the impossible truth began to settle in. Was the dream not just mine? Was it his too?
What the hell was going?
The End
or is it?
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