As the warm sunlight flooded the small room, a slender figure stood motionless, gazing into the vast, indifferent sky. A gentle breeze brushed against the window frame where he leaned, as if whispering back the fragmented memories of a time long gone.

He was Dunk Natachai—a model of effortless grace, known for the radiant, positive energy he breathed into the world. Admired for his sincerity and his relentless pursuit of dreams, he was a soul that many held dear.

Yet, five years ago, at the absolute zenith of his career—when his face graced every prestigious magazine and his name was on every lip—he vanished.

It was a disappearance into the void that left many in fear; a total withdrawal so profound that not a single trace could be found, and those who knew his whereabouts kept their lips sealed in solemn silence.

Now, as he stood once more in his friend's photography studio, Dunk felt a rekindling of his old dreams. His eyes were filled with lingering streaks of light, reflecting a quiet depth.

To the world, he remained unchanged—his face always adorned with a charming smile that could dissolve the weariness of those around him. He was the "living legend," a sunbeam that no one could ever replace.

But when the crowds finally dispersed, Dunk quietly retreated to the window. A familiar breeze grazed his cheek. That sensation... it was hauntingly identical to five years ago.

That year, there had also been a golden afternoon just like this.

He remembered Joong's grip tightening around his wrist. The hands that once offered warmth and comfort had suddenly turned scorching, burning against his skin.

"Why do you always want to leave, Dunk?"

Dunk had frozen, trying to pull his hand away without a single word of defense. Joong's grip only tightened further, his voice dropping to a low, jagged growl.

"Answer me! Have I not been good enough to you?!"

The man's voice still echoed in his ears—a man he could never truly forget.

They had argued, a bitter eruption after countless times Dunk had suppressed his own soul just to sustain the fragile threads of their love.

Finally, beneath the weight of resentment and silent sorrow, Dunk had broken. Warm tears spilled from the corners of his eyes—salty drops carrying the crushing weight of his sincerity.

With every ounce of strength left in him, he uttered the words he had long harbored in his heart:

"Let's break up... When I'm with you, I can no longer be myself."

His shoulders had trembled, his voice fracturing into uneven sobs that deepened the ache in his chest. He left. For five years, he remained a ghost. Joong had descended into a madness of searching, but found nothing. Those who held the truth blocked him; even Pond, their mutual close friend, refused to utter a single word.

Back in the present, Dunk softly closed his eyes, letting his mind rest after the grueling shoot. Five years... it seemed long enough for everything to fade. Yet, with just one quiet afternoon breeze, every buried memory surged back as if it had never left.

"Dunk!"

A familiar voice from behind made him flinch slightly. He turned, frowning, to find Pond—the man who had played no small part in his "escape" and remained his steadfast friend through every storm.

"What is it? Why are you in such a rush?" Dunk asked, his voice laced with a lazy curiosity as he took in Pond's disheveled and panicked appearance.

"Someone wants to see you...?" Pond spoke hesitantly, his eyes flickering toward the glowing screen of his phone.

"A client?"

Pond didn't answer immediately. He hesitated, his gaze lingering on Dunk before he let out a soft sigh.

"No... an old acquaintance."

At Pond's words, a vague sense of unease rose within Dunk's chest. "Who?" he asked.

Before Pond could open his mouth, the studio door behind him slowly creaked open. The sound of steady, deliberate footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. Dunk instinctively turned his head.

The moment their eyes met, time seemed to grind to a halt.

The man standing in the doorway looked taller than in Dunk's memories. His gaze was as sharp and cold as ever, yet deep within those eyes lay an emotion Dunk could no longer decipher.

Joong.

Five years apart. Yet he was looking at Dunk exactly the way he used to.

As if Dunk had never left at all.