Seo Jae-ha stumbled backward, then spun on his heel and broke into a sprint.
“Shit…” The curse slipped out before he could stop it.
Didn’t Hae-hyun say no new games? If I don’t get caught, doesn’t that mean the game doesn’t restart? Isn’t that cheating?
Frantic, meaningless thoughts bubbled up in his mind, trying to shield him from reality, but they fizzled away just as quickly. What truly clawed at him was the worry gnawing deep inside.
What happened to Ju Hae-hyun? Can he even come back? They said a spirit could latch onto a person’s soul—what if he never returns to normal?
No matter how hard he tried, Jae-ha couldn’t picture a hopeful outcome. His grip tightened unconsciously as he ran, the thin edge of the card digging into his palm, but there was no time to notice the pain.
He dashed down the central staircase, aiming for the auditorium where Ju Hae-ryeong was, when his hem snagged on the railing.
“Ugh—!” The sudden tug forced him to a stop, pain stinging along his side. While he wrestled his clothes free from the railing’s ridges, Hae-hyun drew closer. With his long strides, the distance between them shrank alarmingly fast.
If Jae-ha tried to run again, he’d be caught instantly. As a last act of resistance, he leaned back as far as he could, but Hae-hyun’s reach was longer.
Realizing there was no escape, Jae-ha stared wide-eyed at him. The arm smeared in black sludge reached forward—
But the expected grip never came.
Right in front of Jae-ha’s face, the fingers twitched, then froze.
“…?”
Why isn’t he grabbing me? It didn’t make sense—but it was a reprieve. Jae-ha quickly backed up, catching sight of faint golden sparks flickering and fading at Hae-hyun’s trembling fingertips.
“Ju Hae-hyun?”
At the uncertain call, Hae-hyun’s face contorted. His mouth was uncovered, yet his voice broke out ragged, as if suffocating.
“Sun…bae… run… help… me…”
Should I just run? Or listen? He sounded like he was trying to say something important, but could Jae-ha risk staying near the spirit?
His panicked gaze drifted downward—to Hae-hyun’s feet. From his forearm, where the spirit had first taken hold, a stream of black wax trailed down his back, across his leg, and onto the floor.
Candle wax.
Jae-ha dropped into a crouch. Swinging behind him, he saw it clearly: a long trail of wax dangling like a tail.
Hae-hyun jerked, about to lunge. No time. Jae-ha, just a few steps away, adjusted his grip on the card and scraped at the wax. Thankfully, Hae-hyun’s movements were jerky and sluggish—like something inside him was resisting.
Resisting?
Unlike Yoon-taek, who’d been possessed earlier, Hae-hyun had recognized Jae-ha, even halted mid-attack. That was his own will fighting back. The ghost hadn’t fully taken over.
If that was true, maybe Jae-ha’s voice could still reach him.
“Ju Hae-hyun, behind you—the wax!”
He shouted, pressing harder with the card. A harsh screech rang out as it scraped the floor. Barely a scratch. Gritting his teeth, Jae-ha slashed downward like he was cutting it. Candle wax should’ve been soft, but all he left were shallow marks. Not like before. His frustration made his grip slip.
The act of trying to sever the link made Hae-hyun’s pupils flicker. He stumbled toward Jae-ha, a hollow voice slipping free again.
[The… seeker. The seeker is…]
No—stay with me! Jae-ha clenched his jaw and shouted louder.
“Destroy the wax!”
At his words, golden light erupted from Hae-hyun’s body. Even half-turned away, Jae-ha had to squeeze his eyes shut against the blinding radiance.
[That’s cheating! Hurting the seeker is cheating!]
The scream tore through the air as golden light surged outward, flowing along the candle wax tethered to Hae-hyun.
It was like a river of gold. Entranced, Jae-ha pressed his card into the glowing stream, and the wax dissolved, melting away.
“You’re not hurt.”
The blunt voice came from above him. The wax snapped, and what clung to Hae-hyun crumbled into powder with a faint hiss. Wisps of black smoke curled up, then vanished.
Dazed, Jae-ha looked up. The easy movement, the familiar tone, the clear eyes—
Hae-hyun exhaled.
“You won, sunbae. The game’s over.”
The ghost went quiet, then burst into shrill laughter. It was the same voice that had chased Jae-ha, but now, without the chill, it sounded almost innocent—like a child.
[That’s right. I keep my promises.]
The nuance made Jae-ha narrow his eyes. Almost like it was saying others didn’t.
“Have we met before?”
But the ghost gave no answer. Instead, it sang brightly:
[Let’s play again, okay? Next time, I’ll win.]
“What do you mean next time? There is no next time. It ends here.”
At Hae-hyun’s sharp retort, the wax littering the floor shattered like brittle glass. The ghost’s voice vanished. A moment later, every light in the building flickered back on.
“You okay?”
A hand reached out toward him. Still sitting, Jae-ha looked up instead of taking it.
“Grabbing this doesn’t make me the seeker, right?”
At that, Hae-hyun’s tense face cracked into a boyish grin.
“Perfect answer. Sunbae, you’d make a damn good exorcist.”
On the short walk back to the auditorium, Hae-hyun kept scanning the surroundings like a loyal guard dog. Jae-ha had to stifle a laugh.
“I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”
It was true. Thanks to Hae-hyun stepping in, he hadn’t even nicked a finger. But Hae-hyun didn’t seem reassured, brushing near his shoulder with a scolding mutter.
“You almost got hurt. And earlier—you ignored me when I told you to run and get noona. Are you always gonna ignore me? When are you going to trust me?”
So that’s what he’d been trying to say earlier. Jae-ha didn’t bother pointing out that the words had been so faint he hadn’t understood them. Even if he had, he doubted he would’ve abandoned him. Instead, he murmured lightly:
“I did trust you.”
“Huh?”
“You recognized me.”
Even possessed, Hae-hyun had fought desperately to shield Jae-ha, to warn him. Whether it was instinct or sheer willpower overpowering it—
Jae-ha simply believed in that. Believed Hae-hyun would hear him.
“I trusted you to do it. Why else would I stick around right under a ghost’s nose?”
Hae-hyun fell silent. His loosened brows and slow-rolling eyes made him look a little dazed, maybe even embarrassed. He kept staring at Jae-ha’s profile with that same look.
After a long while, he finally muttered, almost primly:
“…Still. It’s dangerous. If I tell you to run, you run.”
There was just the faintest touch of pride in his voice. Jae-ha smiled quietly.
When they reached the auditorium, Ju Hae-ryeong seemed to have nearly subdued the candle as well. The golden aura had shrunk dramatically. She was still pouring her strength into it when she spotted the two trudging back, and immediately snapped:
“What on earth took you so long? You almost woke everyone up!”
“Don’t know.”
Hae-hyun’s flat reply came as he moved beside her. With a sharp whoosh, the light snuffed out. Done? Jae-ha stepped closer, relief written on his face.
The candle was much smaller now—barely the size of a fingertip. Streaks of black wax clung partway down its body. Beside him, Hae-ryeong scratched her head.
“The aura’s gone, but… something’s off. It doesn’t feel like I purified it. More like it withdrew on its own.”
