You Are My Hallucination

      The workshop always smelled of plaster and damp clay. The curtains fluttered in the breeze that had sneaked into this seemingly abandoned room. Daylight timidly crept through the half-open windows, as if afraid to disturb the occupant of this room. The old couch creaked under the weight of the man lying on it. The expression on his face made it clear that he was having some kind of unpleasant dream.       "No! Don't leave!" he cried out, opening his eyes wide.       Once again, it was the dream in which happiness ended in tragedy. It haunted him over and over, every day. He wanted to fall asleep to see her alive in his dreams, the one he would never see in real life again, but at the same time, he was afraid to sleep, because the dream always ended in separation.       Each time he woke up, he would start working, trying to capture her beauty. He worked tirelessly. His slender fingers, stained white, shaped the pliable material with tenderness and pain, giving it features that were painfully familiar. He was creating her — the girl whose laughter once filled the room with light, but now only echoed in his empty heart.       He sculpted her face, her hands, her figure, striving for perfection, which, as he knew, was unattainable. The plaster was cold and lifeless.       It could never replace the warmth of her skin, the sparkle in her eyes, the beating of her heart. But he kept working, driven by the hope that one day, when the sculpture was finished, she would be with him again, not in reality, but at least as a shadow, as a ghost, as an eternal reminder of the love he had lost.       Only once, when exhaustion weighed on him unbearably, and he fell into a restless sleep right at his worktable, she came to him. As alive as ever, with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a warm smile on her lips. She sat down next to him, watching his work, and a soft whisper filled the workshop:       "You're almost there, Jeongin-a... Just a little more..."       He tried to hold onto this image, but it melted away like morning mist under the sun's rays.       How tired he was! How many times had he started over, trying to perfect it!       And then, last night, when the moonlight flooded the workshop with a silvery glow, he finished his work. There she stood, captured in plaster, beautiful and lifeless. Tears rolled down his cheeks.       He touched the cold surface, and at that moment, it seemed to him that he felt a faint response. He looked up and saw her — she was standing next to him, smiling at him with her gentle, sad smile:       "You've finished, Jeongin-a," she whispered. "Now I'll always be with you."       "Yes, I won't let you go again."       He pulled her close, kissing her tenderly. It felt like an eternity had passed since the last time. Pulling away, he led her to the bathroom, where the water was already drawn. He climbed into it, pulling the girl with him. Their passionate kisses and the splashing of water filled the room with sound...       "Jeongin, where are you?" a young man came in with bags that smelled of food. "I brought you something to eat."       He walked further and saw the finished sculpture. Almost alive, Mina looked at Chan with a gentle smile.       "Jeongin, you did a great job," the guy shouted again. "Where are you, anyway? In the bathroom?"       He listened, but there was no sound of splashing water. Finally deciding to check the bathroom, Chan was horrified by what he saw: his friend's lifeless body was completely submerged in the water.