When he returned to the hospital room, Bae Jung-yoon was still fast asleep.
Go Hoon quietly watched him, lost in thought.
The story Jung-yoon’s maternal grandfather had told him about his mother was strikingly different from what Jung-yoon himself had shared.
When Jung-yoon had briefly described the accident before, he said it all happened so quickly—there wasn’t even time to react. A sudden car crash, and then he blacked out. But if that was true, then why had he said what he did when he came to?
“‘Why am I still alive?’”
As if… he genuinely regretted surviving.
Go Hoon replayed that line over and over. And it didn’t take much to arrive at one disturbing possibility.
What if he had known?
What if, on the day he got into that car with his mother, he sensed something was going to happen?
Or worse—what if he had known that his mother intended for both of them to die?
The moment the conclusion hit, Go Hoon felt as if he’d been struck in the back of the head.
Shock spread slowly.
Bae Jung-yoon’s grandfather offered a bitter smile, as though he could read every thought on Hoon’s changing expression.
“…Why are you telling me this?”
It took Go Hoon a long while to get the words out.
Why go out of his way to tell him something like this?
There was nothing to be gained by sharing it—not for himself, not for Jung-yoon. There had to be a reason behind the old man’s words.
“So you can make the right decision. That boy… he’s a lot like my daughter.”
His voice was calm, almost cold.
“Once he makes up his mind, he doesn’t hesitate.”
“Even if he has family—are you saying he might go through it all over again?”
“I was never a reason for Jung-yoon to live. I was the first one to abandon my daughter.”
Was this all meant as a warning? A caution not to provoke Jung-yoon? Or a quiet suggestion to keep some distance from him?
Your grandson, like your daughter, is unstable.
Go Hoon didn’t know. His thoughts were tangled. And then, the man said something that confused him even more.
“If it ever feels like too much for you, come talk to me. That’s all I can offer.”
“You’re the only person he’s ever shown this much interest in.”
If this was supposed to be a warning, the old man shouldn’t have said that last part. Because now, he couldn’t simply walk away.
The only person.
Those words made him hesitate. Or maybe… the old man wasn’t warning him. Maybe he was asking.
Please—don’t leave my grandson alone.
Go Hoon let out a quiet breath and leaned in a little closer to Bae Jung-yoon, studying his face. Thankfully, he seemed to be improving. The once ghostly pale skin was beginning to regain some color. His eyes drifted to the bandage wrapped around Jung-yoon’s arm.
As the old man said—he was unstable. Scenes of Jung-yoon neglecting himself, at times to a near self-destructive degree, flashed through his mind. What had he been feeling the moment he stepped into that car with his mother?
At the same time, Go Hoon’s thoughts drifted to his final phone call with Lee Hyun-soo. What had he been feeling in those final moments, turning away from life? Had the two of them felt the same way?
If Hyun-soo had survived that day—by some miracle—would he have said the same thing upon waking? Why didn’t I die?
But just today, Jung-yoon made a promise. He said he wouldn’t die. Not while Go Hoon was still alive. If Hyun-soo had lived, maybe someday he too would’ve made that kind of promise to someone.
As he imagined that irreversible moment, a growing unease took root.
What if Kkongddeok-i disappeared from Jung-yoon’s life? What if the only one left beside him was Go Hoon? Would that promise still hold then?
He couldn’t be sure.
If he were erased from Jung-yoon’s life…
What kind of life would remain? What kind of world would he see?
On the outside, Jung-yoon’s life seemed full, even privileged—but perhaps it was far more barren than Hoon had imagined.
He couldn’t picture it, not really. But maybe the world Jung-yoon saw was colorless. A brutally dull, lifeless existence. Emotions may torment people—but without them, life becomes gray and hollow.
If Jung-yoon resembled his mother, then maybe he had inherited not just her face but her brokenness too.
That’s why his grandfather was afraid. Afraid not just for him, but of him—his only living blood. Like someone standing in front of a ticking bomb, never knowing when it might explode. That’s why he said those things. Because staying close to someone who is broken… is never easy.
And yet, Jung-yoon’s grandfather had never pushed him. In the end, the choice was entirely his. To stay beside Bae Jung-yoon… or to leave. And truthfully, it was laughable that he even had to struggle with the decision.
He was just as broken. Neither of them was whole. Maybe that’s why he had been drawn to Jung-yoon from the start. Because broken people can recognize each other.
“Don’t turn human. Just stay like this in my house. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Sometimes I think… I wish you’d just stay a cat forever.”
The words Jung-yoon had said before came rushing back to him, piercing his chest.
If someone says that to you… Then doesn’t it only lead to one conclusion? There’s only one thing you can do in return.
He’d apparently been sitting there, deep in thought, for a long time.
Go Hoon stretched, his stiff body aching. Then, turning to the still figure, he muttered:
“You said you couldn’t sleep without Kkongddeok-i, but you’re out cold.”
“So, are you trying to break the contract?”
The sudden voice came low and even, with eyes still closed. Startled, Go Hoon swore under his breath. He thought he was asleep. When had he woken up?
As he looked into those barely slitted eyes, they suddenly opened wide—dark and unblinking—locking directly with his own.
“I don’t plan on doing that.”
The firm refusal came out of nowhere—even though Go Hoon hadn’t said a thing. He raised his brows in disbelief, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“I never said I wanted to end anything. Don’t twist my words.”
Go Hoon huffed and leaned back against the bed, propping his chin on his hand.
“I’ve changed my mind. Playing the master next to you doesn’t sound so bad anymore.”
“What brought that on all of a sudden?”
Bae Jung-yoon smiled softly, lips curling up with ease. Go Hoon reached out and gave his shoulder a couple of light pats.
“It’s not easy to find a devoted butler willing to throw himself in harm’s way for his master, you know.”
He said it lightly, almost jokingly, but Jung-yoon stared at him with a strange intensity.
The weight of that gaze made Go Hoon feel awkward, and just as he was about to pull his hand away, Jung-yoon suddenly grabbed his arm.
A sharp jolt swept through him, and in an instant, his back hit the mattress.
“Ah, fuck…”
Go Hoon groaned, wincing at the sudden slam.
This musclehead never holds back, he thought bitterly, glaring up in protest. And there was Jung-yoon, his expression unreadable.
“Should I be grateful you’ve finally caught on?”
Jung-yoon pressed Hoon’s arms down firmly and leaned in, closing the distance. As he drew closer, Hoon’s breath grew shallow.
“You’re not supposed to be using your arm like that.”
The guy still hadn’t had surgery, and the fever hadn’t completely broken—yet he had zero sense of caution.
Now was the time to rest and recover, not pull this kind of stunt. Why was he like this again?
Go Hoon stared at Jung-yoon’s face, now just inches from his own, frowning.
No way… he’s not seriously trying to do something right now, is he?
He braced himself, tension prickling at the back of his neck—when suddenly, Jung-yoon murmured,
“Where’d you go? You were gone too long for just a convenience store run.”
…A quiet sigh slipped out of Go Hoon’s lips. So he knew Hoon had left. Then how long had he been awake?
“Why pretend to be asleep if you were already awake?”
“I wasn’t pretending. I woke up about an hour ago, but I dozed off again while waiting for you.”
Jung-yoon exhaled slowly, blinking with a dazed look. He seemed groggy, more sluggish than usual.
“So, where’d you go?”
His question came again, calm but deliberate. Go Hoon, watching his condition closely, recalled the words Jung-yoon’s grandfather had said before they parted:
“Please don’t tell him you met me.”
“Just went for a walk.”
“A walk?”
Jung-yoon raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. But Go Hoon didn’t flinch—he nodded without hesitation.
Jung-yoon let out a faint smirk and mouthed the word, “Liar.”
Hoon ignored it, continuing to look up at him before asking,
“Can you really take full responsibility for me?”
It was sudden, yes—but it felt right to ask in that moment. Now that he’d made up his mind, he wanted to hear it straight—needed certainty. Jung-yoon blinked, startled by the question. The smile at his lips gradually faded.
“I already told you. I’ll take responsibility for your whole life.”
He didn’t ask why. Didn’t question the timing. His voice was steady, unwavering—as if he’d say the same thing no matter how many times he was asked. Go Hoon exhaled softly and gave a small nod.
“Alright. Then that’s enough.”
That alone was all he needed to steady his heart. Jung-yoon’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was holding something back. He tilted his head.
“Hoon-ah… I really can’t tell what goes on in that head of yours.”
He reached up and gently stroked Hoon’s face. His skin was warm again, back to normal. The fever must have dropped after some good rest.
“Whatever it is, I don’t care. As long as you’re not trying to leave me.”
As those words slipped out in a quiet whisper, a knock knock sounded at the door.
Go Hoon instinctively turned toward the entrance. But Jung-yoon, still straddling him, didn’t move an inch.
“Come in.”
He even answered, calm as ever.
