I kept thinking about her, trying to summon my mind as if searching for a door to an unknown place. It felt as though my mind was responding to something, something I couldn’t quite grasp. I tried desperately to keep her image vivid in my thoughts, to find a way back to her.

I closed my eyes, imagining her gentle touch on my head. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t feel anything. Yet, with my eyes shut, I sensed a sudden shift. The darkness surrounding me began to transform, turning into a bright white light.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and found myself in a radiant white room, everything around me pure and luminous. The four walls were plain, yet one of them stood out—it was adorned with intricate drawings of green grass, so vivid they seemed almost alive.

In the corner of the room stood a figure, drawn with extraordinary precision. His skin was dark, but his features were shrouded in mystery, partially concealed by the brightness. I stared at him, and something about him felt familiar. Then it hit me—I think he was from the novel Eilaf loved to read.

I kept thinking, searching every corner of the room as if it were a puzzle waiting to be solved. Everything about it radiated mystery until my eyes landed on a small door in one of the walls. Inscribed on it were the words: "You must write a three-letter name."

A three-letter name? And where was I supposed to write it? I scanned the room, looking for any clues. The space was empty except for the bright lights and the drawings on the walls. I kept searching, racking my brain for an answer.

The lights in the room were coming from several bright, intense bulbs. One of them caught my attention—it was different. It moved back and forth, swaying left and right, as if beckoning me. I reached out to touch it, but it wouldn’t stay still.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

What intrigued me even more was its position—directly in front of the mysterious figure drawn on the wall. The figure’s features were blurred, yet something about it seemed familiar.

I decided to wait, timing my movements with the bulb’s sway, until the light aligned perfectly with the figure’s face. At that moment, I reached out and touched the bulb firmly.

Suddenly, the bulb stopped moving. The light illuminated the figure’s face clearly, and that’s when I recognized it—it was her favorite character from the novel she loved so much.

I smiled, a sense of relief washing over me after such a long and exhausting day. For the first time in what felt like forever, my face lit up with hope.

Moments later, a keyboard appeared on the door. I stepped closer and typed the three letters, one by one: D, J, N.

It was the name of the character.

As soon as I pressed the final letter, the door unlocked at last.

I stepped through the door into a mysterious room. It was empty except for a bright light, a table, and a box. The box looked like a gift, tied neatly with a pink ribbon—the kind people use on special occasions for their loved ones.

I approached the box cautiously, my trembling hands undoing the ribbon. As soon as I opened it, a fragrant aroma escaped, mingling with the sharp smell of iron or metal. Smoke billowed out of the box, swirling thickly until it began to take shape.

It was her... yes, it was her! But she was bound in shackles, her tear-filled, innocent eyes looking at me. Her gaze was a mix of longing and mistrust, a bittersweet combination of hope and despair, accompanied by silent tears.

In a shaky, soft voice, she said, "You’ll save me, right? I know you won’t abandon me."

I moved toward her immediately, but just as I reached out, thick iron bars crashed down between us. I froze, tears streaming down my face, yet I stood firm and declared with unwavering resolve: "I promise you... I will save you, no matter the cost. You will be free."

For a moment, her expression softened, and her gaze turned calm. She smiled faintly and said, "Don’t forget the instant noodles, you idiot."

Despite the gravity of the moment, I couldn’t help but laugh. "No, I won’t forget. How could a lover ever forget what his beloved adores?"

She smiled again, a blend of sorrow and humor lighting up her face. "And here I am, your beloved, kidnapped, you fool."

Before I could reply, she began to fade away, her figure dissolving into the surrounding light. Panicked, I shouted, "Eilaf! Where are you going? Eilaf!"

But she was gone. Her name echoed in the emptiness, reverberating around me: "Eilaf... Eilaf... Eilaf..."