It looked like fields of snow.

She saw the endless meadow stretch out in front of her, an infinity of white that lay under her being. Her body felt weightless as she rose from the ground, where no imprints remained to serve as a reminder of her presence upon it at any point. There was no sun, no sky, but everything was ethereally bright, passageways into unknown destinations, an amalgamation of possibilities. The colourless grass underneath her feet felt soft, almost to the point of having no sensation. She gently tapped her bare foot onto the tips of the blades, wanting to restore any notion of feeling to her skin. There was simply nothingness, no warmth, no cold, no aridness, no humidity. The plane felt like an embodiment of her physicality, not able to provide anything that could indicate her vitality or ability to feel, because it itself was her. A meaningless, endless look into the world inside her mind as it was, a mind that was no longer of its own or cognizant of its state.

So she walked, walked into the unknown white fields, praying and praying for something she did not recognize. The meadow stretched on forever, and when she turned her head, it mirrored itself in every direction. When she dropped onto her knees, the ground did not sink, and her legs felt no pain. She pounded onto the grass, grasping at the blades and digging continuously to make a hole that would let her out. Her hands gripped at emptiness, touching the white substance but unable to penetrate its willpower; it rose higher and higher, surrounding her in white but not suffocating her. She found that she could walk through it, through the bottom of that meadow, but everything stayed the same, merely a painting of white that never stopped replicating in front of her eyes.

How she spotted it, she couldn’t remember. Against the reflectionless, shadowless white boundaries, she saw a white butterfly, flitting about without camouflage. She saw it wander aimlessly in the space about her, drawing in closer and closer until it landed on her open palm with the softest gust of wind fanning against her skin.

She suddenly felt a warmth along the path where the butterfly’s legs ghosted against her, making its way up to her wrist. It felt like a divine relief from an eternal punishment. The butterfly flew up and let its wings flutter against her face, caressing her eyelids with wordless assurances that she found unbearably comforting. Feeling was now present in her face as wet, warm streaks trailed down her cheeks, dripping down her chin and touching her heart, where a pulsing violence seized her perceiving soul.

Kang Seulgi.

The butterfly circled around her at a distance so close yet so far. When she reached out to touch it, her fingers merely breezed past its presence and pushed it away. It circled around in the liminal whiteness for what felt like centuries, millenia, and promises of an eternity. Despite the residing sensation of the burning in her chest, she felt stuck in a place of forever without memories or hope.

Kang Seulgi.

She opened to answer. Something told h