The stench of alcohol seemed to grow stronger with every breath he took, as though he was getting drunk all over again. Yet the sound of that relentless crying still rang sharp and clear in his ears.
Lee Haru lifted the wine bottle like a man heading into battle. Crimson wine streamed through the loose folds of his pajamas, spilling like rain.
***
“Is this bastard actually out of his damn mind?”
Coming downstairs for a glass of water in the morning, Yu Je-hyun clicked his tongue as he spotted Lee Haru sprawled across the sofa.
It was noisy last night. Not that he had meant to listen—his hypersensitive hearing made it impossible to ignore Haru’s commotion on the first floor.
When he realized the footsteps had ended in the kitchen, he genuinely wanted to cut Haru open just to see what was inside.
Judging by how much he ate—easily two or three times more than the average adult male—yet remained rail-thin, the idea that some kind of gluttonous spirit had taken up residence in his body seemed almost logical.
Eventually, he had shoved in his esper-grade earplugs and forced himself to sleep. But now, he regretted not going downstairs to check things out last night.
God knows what the hell the guy had been doing. His pajamas, which had likely been a soft sky blue originally, were now stained with dark red blotches.
Even the skin visible through the gaps in the fabric was flushed a deep red.
“You drank last night, didn’t you?”
The evidence was right there. Dangling loosely from Haru’s left hand, just barely hanging on, was a black wine bottle.
“…Good morning.”
Lee Haru greeted him in a faint, lifeless voice. He had not slept a wink.
The more he drank, the more the world spun, his limbs turning limp like someone was pulling him underwater—but sleep refused to come.
Every time his eyelids began to droop, the sound of that crying would pierce through with cruel precision, snapping him awake again.
So Haru had spent the entire night wide-eyed, drinking wine as if it were his only companion until the sun finally rose.
To make matters worse, the hangover hit him like a truck. Sharp, stabbing pains pierced his temples and solar plexus like ice picks, leaving him unable to do anything.
He wanted to wash off the wine that had soaked not just his upper body but even his underwear, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead.
“You know what you remind me of right now?”
“…What is it?”
Haru looked up at him with bleary, hollow eyes. Yu Je-hyun crossed his arms and studied him like an animal behind glass.
His skin was so pale it had turned bluish. Heavy shadows loomed under his eyes like they had been smudged with graphite. His lips were dry and cracked white, while the whites of his eyes were bloodshot and raw.
“A zombie. You should seriously consider applying to be an extra in a zombie movie or drama. You’d be perfect.”
He was only teasing him. Unlike the old Lee Haru, the current one—though mildly irritating—was entertaining.
Every time he poked, Haru reacted. It was refreshing.
But did he really need to take a throwaway joke this seriously? After blinking silently for a while, Haru finally spoke, his voice somber.
“Zombies… would not be afraid of ghosts, right?”
Had he taken that joke seriously? Staring at Haru’s desperate expression, Yu Je-hyun gave a reluctant answer.
“Probably not. All they care about is eating, right? Ah—come to think of it, that’s another thing you and zombies have in common.”
He still remembered Haru’s voice, utterly serious as he once declared that food was the most important thing in life.
Zombies, after all, were creatures that sprinted madly just to devour the living. What else could be a higher priority?
“Then… I want to become a zombie.”
“…What?”
“How does one become a zombie?”
As he said this, Lee Haru slowly rose from the sofa. Yu Je-hyun’s shoulder jerked reflexively.
Oh, shit. What the hell.
Yu Je-hyun absolutely despised undead-type monsters. Especially the ones that oozed pus from rotting flesh.
A few months ago, a zombie-filled dungeon opened in Seoul.
Dungeon rating: A.
Not something easily cleared without S-rank espers.
As luck would have it, every other S-rank esper had been dispatched on separate missions at the time, leaving him to lead the charge into the zombie dungeon himself.
Fucking zombie bastards.
It had taken him two whole weeks to clear it.
Considering that he normally wrapped up A-rank dungeons in about five days, the ordeal had been exceptionally long.
Since then, he could not even hear the word “zombie” without flinching.
That was the only reason he had said it—Haru looked so far gone that “zombie” was the only word that came to mind. And now this lunatic was doubling down like this—what the hell had he eaten?
The wine bottle slipped from Haru’s hand and rolled across the floor. The last of the wine trickled down the bottle’s neck and soaked into the carpet.
“I don’t care if I turn into a zombie—just make that ghost shut up…”
Thwack—
Mumbling nonsense and reaching out like a lunatic, Haru looked exactly like a zombie clinging to the last shreds of sanity.
Yu Je-hyun lashed out on instinct. He stared down at his right hand, which had just smacked Haru in the face.
Thank god he had held back at the last second. If he had not, he might have cracked Haru’s skull wide open.
“…Hey. You alright?”
Yu Je-hyun crouched in front of the sofa and grabbed Haru’s shoulder, giving it a shake.
Beneath his reddened nostrils, a darker red began to drip—blood.
Haru had passed out, a twin stream of nosebleeds trickling down his face.
Yu Je-hyun let out a long sigh.
Ever since Lee Haru had moved into the mansion, not a single day had gone by in peace.
***
“…When did I fall asleep?”
Lee Haru gazed blankly up at the ceiling. It was his room inside the sprawling mansion—a place he had already grown strangely used to, despite only seeing it a handful of times.
He fumbled for his phone and checked the time. 5:03 p.m. His stomach gave a low grumble, and he absently rubbed it as he pushed himself upright.
“I think I was talking to Esper Yu Je-hyun…”
The details were hazy. Truth be told, Haru had not been remotely sober during that exchange. After a full night tormented by ghostly wailing, his mind had frayed like soaked newspaper—soggy, torn, and barely holding together.
He vaguely remembered something about zombies. Then there had been a sharp sound—thwack—and everything had gone dark.
His memory was fragmented, the events disconnected like a badly edited film reel, but Haru did not give it much thought.
Whatever had happened, sleep had worked wonders. He felt refreshed.
“When did I change clothes?”
He could recall speaking to Yu Je-hyun, but had no memory of taking a shower. Yet the tacky stickiness of dried wine was gone, and his skin felt clean and smooth.
Just as he clutched his head, straining to recover the missing pieces, a knock came at the door.
“Who is it?”
“This is Kang Min.”
“Ah—just a second!”
It was the first time Kang Min had ever come to his room. Thinking something urgent must have happened, Haru sprang up—only to step on a crumpled blanket that had slipped off the bed.
He tripped with a loud crash, tumbling gracelessly to the floor. The noise prompted the door to swing open, and Kang Min stepped inside.
“Are you alright?”
Kneeling on one knee, Kang Min reached out and caught Haru by the arm. Haru did not answer but simply waved his right hand as if to say, I’m fine.
The sharp pain in his knee was bad enough, but he had also bitten his tongue.
The metallic tang of blood quickly flooded his mouth, so pungent it made his eyes water. His tongue throbbed painfully—he was afraid to even move it.
He must not have fully regained strength in his legs after just waking up.
“Open your mouth. Looks like you’re bleeding.”
While Haru sat there with his eyes shut tight, waiting for the pain to subside, Kang Min leaned in.
A strong hand cradled his jaw and cheek, prompting Haru to part his lips instinctively. Blood-tinged saliva he had not yet swallowed dribbled down one side of his mouth.
Even without a mirror, he could tell how pathetic he must have looked. He wanted to shrink away, but it was impossible.
Kang Min was not holding his face harshly, but his grip was firm—so firm that even when Haru tried to lean his head back, he could not move.
He could not keep his eyes shut forever. When he opened them again, a tear that had gathered on his lower lashes slipped free.
They were close. Uncomfortably so—close enough that their eyes could not avoid meeting. From this distance, Kang Min’s face looked almost unreal in its perfection, making Haru’s lashes flutter faintly.
Another tear welled and fell, gliding down the edge of his dark lashes.
Kang Min’s gaze, deep and unreadable, slowly swept across Haru’s face.
After a moment, he reached up and gently wiped the damp corner of Haru’s eye with his thumb. Only then did he rise to his feet.
As if under a spell, Haru’s head tilted up to follow him, gaze still fixed on the man above.
“Can you drink this?”
“…What?”
“This.”
When Haru repeated the question in a dazed whisper, Kang Min gave the bottle in his hand a gentle shake, his voice calm and steady.
