“What?”
Seo Jae-ha asked again, unsure if Hae-hyun was being serious. But Hae-hyun didn’t bother answering—he just kept talking, and suddenly seized both of Jae-ha’s arms.
“Are you closer with him than with me?”
“Huh?”
“You knew me first. I should be closer, right? What rank am I? Am I still four-hundredth? When do I get to move up?”
…Seriously? A grade-schooler? The thought crossed Jae-ha’s mind, but childish or not, Hae-hyun’s grip was far too strong. He shook him so hard his head spun.
“We live together, so how can I still be four-hundredth? Shouldn’t I at least be first or second?”
“Does that even… matter…?”
Hae-hyun kept shaking him even as he tried to speak, knocking the breath out of him. Was this guy insane? Irritation flared, and Jae-ha clenched his fist, ready to rein him in.
“Right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
But the moment he saw Hae-hyun’s face, the strength drained from him. His eyes were filled with disappointment and hurt, yet they wouldn’t meet Jae-ha’s—drifting instead to his neck and collarbone. His lips were pushed into a sulky pout, corners drooping like he was about to cry.
Something about that look stirred an uneasy urgency in Jae-ha.
“…No, you’re not wrong.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’re probably… around fifth place.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice softening without thought.
In truth, if he had to count, Hae-hyun had already become first. But Jae-ha had no intention of laying that burden on him. What good would it do for him to hear he was number one? All Hae-hyun needed was to feel higher than Su-min. At his answer, Hae-hyun pouted, then asked slyly,
“What about that Imoogi?”
“He’s probably somewhere around five-hundredth.”
Hae-hyun’s face lit up instantly.
“Really?”
The way he looked so genuinely happy pricked Jae-ha with guilt, but he let it slide. Whether it was because they were both spiritual beings or simply juniors around the same age, Hae-hyun seemed to burn with rivalry whenever Su-min came up.
If he kept this up, someone was bound to misunderstand. Jae-ha hid a bitter smile behind a deliberately bored expression.
“So this is what you dragged me out here for? To spout nonsense? Are you twenty-one or eleven?”
“This isn’t nonsense. It matters. You don’t even know how dangerous he is.”
Hae-hyun grumbled in a sulky tone. Was this puberty? His moods swung so wildly Jae-ha could barely keep up.
“Fine, I get it. But when we go back, keep it down. Pull this again, and I’ll send you home.”
He made his voice firm. The sulking was cute enough, but he also had to think about Su-min standing right there. He had no intention of making Su-min uncomfortable, much less driving him away. Honestly, being with both of them was far better than being alone with Hae-hyun…
At his words, Hae-hyun fell silent, eyes shifting slowly. A cloud passed overhead, shadowing his face so Jae-ha couldn’t read his expression no matter how hard he looked. Anxiety pricked at him again—an emotion that had been dogging him whenever it came to Hae-hyun lately. Before he could think, his lips moved.
“Sunbae, before—”
That’s when he heard a rustle, and a head suddenly poked in.
“Hyung, you’re here?”
It was Jeong-seok.
He’d found him even though the spot was a little ways from the pub tents. Maybe he’d come searching since the promotional displays had been left unattended too long. Feeling a stab of guilt, Jae-ha answered quickly.
“Ah, yeah, I was just about to head back in. What’s up?”
“Oh, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
Had he started seeing someone again? He’d asked that before. Jae-ha frowned in confusion, but still stepped toward him.
“What is it?”
“Uh, just a second…”
Jeong-seok grabbed his wrist and tugged. Why was everyone so set on dragging him around these days? Still, unlike a certain someone, Jeong-seok wasn’t ridiculously strong, so Jae-ha let himself be led. But right away, Hae-hyun stepped forward and grabbed his other arm.
“Sunbae, wait.”
And there it was again. Not even a full minute since Jae-ha had told him to behave. Like a stubborn puppy. He shot him a warning.
“Stay put. We’ll talk later.”
“No, that’s not it…”
Hae-hyun’s voice was small, and there was barely any strength in his grip. It didn’t feel like sulking or anger—it felt hesitant, like he was nervously holding him back.
“There’s something off about him.”
…About Jeong-seok? Jae-ha glanced forward. Hae-hyun had whispered right in his ear, so Jeong-seok hadn’t heard. He just kept walking, back turned, showing no reaction. His head looked the same as always…
But then, a memory flickered through Jae-ha’s mind.
“There are three of them, so you, me, and Jeong-seok can each take one. Perfect, right?”
What if the candles didn’t follow the one who first found them, but the one who ended up with them?
Of the three Yoon-taek had picked up, his had been purified during the MT, Yoon-taek’s in the business building. The only one left was Jeong-seok’s.
…No way.
Once the thought struck, Jeong-seok’s behavior seemed even more suspicious. Jae-ha’s guard rose, though he didn’t let it show. Better not to provoke him.
“Jeong-seok, what is it you want to ask?”
He kept his tone light, but Jeong-seok didn’t answer. He just kept tugging at Jae-ha’s arm, leading him somewhere, like he had a destination in mind. That wasn’t like him at all. The situation was getting worse by the second.
“Jeong-seok, wait.”
“Yes?”
Finally, he reacted, like he’d only just noticed Jae-ha was speaking. His face looked… normal? Maybe.
“You okay?”
Jae-ha asked cautiously. They’d already walked far enough that not only was the business department’s tent gone, but even the festival noise had faded.
Maybe it was better this way—at least fewer people would get caught up in it. He pulled Hae-hyun by the sleeve, shielding him behind. Despite his large frame, Hae-hyun followed easily.
“Where are you taking me? What about the booth? Did you tell Min-hee?”
Jeong-seok paused, then hesitantly said,
“I just… wanted to ask you something.”
The exact same words as before. Like a broken record.
“What’s so important you can’t say it here?”
Jae-ha twisted his arm slightly, trying to pull free. A chill crawled up his spine.
His bad hunches never missed. Jeong-seok stood under a lamppost, the corner of his lips curling upward—then came a jagged, unnatural laugh.
[We need to play a game.]
The warped, off-pitch voice hit Jae-ha’s ears, and instinct took over. He yanked his arm hard, breaking free, and staggered back with Hae-hyun. No time to speak.
[Shadow Tag, begin.]
Jeong-seok was right in front of him. His white sneakers had already pinned down Jae-ha’s shadow.
He chuckled.
[Got you.]
A violent wind roared.
Before Jae-ha could even blink, his body lurched, like he was being flushed down a drain. His head spun, vision blurring.
Through the chaos of his flying hair, he caught a glimpse of Hae-hyun’s panicked face. He reached for him, but his body wouldn’t respond.
Then everything went black.
***
When Jae-ha woke, the first thing he heard was the murmur of voices. Low, babbling conversation hummed near his ears.
“Is it him?”
“It must be.”
“The blood matches.”
Even through the haze, the voices sounded strangely familiar.
Slowly, sensation returned. He felt the soft cushion beneath him, the warmth in the air, the faint fragrance around him. His limbs were intact—he could move. Blinking against the sudden light, his blurred vision cleared.
The first thing he saw was a tall, white ceiling. Thick beams spanned across it, the structure distinctly traditional.
“He’s awake.”
“He’s up?”
“Get up!”
Suddenly, faces popped into view. He blinked, realizing they were children’s heads.
Three small kids sat by his bedside, peering down at him. Each wore long braids decorated differently, and their eyes were inverted—black sclera, white pupils.
“…What the hell?”
His voice came out hoarse, like he’d woken from a long nap. He must’ve been out for a while. He forced himself to remember. The school festival, the last candle… He’d been caught.
So this was the Underworld?
