“Hyung.”
“…Yeah?”
Seeing Sihyeon’s expression turn serious, Haru shrank slightly, wondering if he had done something wrong, and answered cautiously. At that sight, Sihyeon’s mind began racing.
Ban Haru.
It wasn’t an ordinary name. In web novels, the surname Ban was never given to an average character. Take Ban Hwi-hyeol, for example. Didn’t that sound like someone who’d rank No. 0 not just nationally, but globally?
But Ban Haru…
That sounded like a male lead.
And not just any male lead—a deeply tragic one. The kind you’d see in a sad, angsty web novel.
Come to think of it, he had said earlier that he repeated a year due to health issues…
The moment that thought clicked, Sihyeon urgently grabbed Haru’s shoulders.
“Do you have any illness?”
“H-huh?”
“Like a chronic disease, a heart condition, organ failure—something like that? Are you waiting for a transplant? But there’s no donor yet, so you’re suffering right now?”
“…?”
Haru looked flustered by the sudden barrage of questions, but Sihyeon didn’t stop.
“Or are you planning to donate an organ later? Are you the type to sacrifice yourself for someone you like? Like, if they were going blind, would you give them your eyes? You haven’t already done that, right? Is that why your bangs are covering your eyes…?”
“N-no, it’s not like that….”
“Really?”
“Yeah….”
Even though he didn’t understand what was going on, Haru answered because Sihyeon looked so serious. His fingers fidgeted nervously.
Seeing that, Sihyeon came back to his senses and swallowed.
That wasn’t his intention—but the name Ban Haru had made him overreact.
“I’m sorry. I got too worked up.”
“N-no, it’s okay.”
“Anyway, you’re not waiting for an organ transplant, and you’re not planning to donate one either, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“Then where exactly are you sick?”
“Ah….”
Haru fell silent. His lips parted slightly, then closed again. Anyone could tell he didn’t want to answer.
Scratch, scratch.
He began picking at his nails—something that looked like anxiety to Sihyeon.
“Do you not want to answer?”
“…….”
Silence. A firm refusal.
As Haru kept scratching his nails and biting his lips, Sihyeon felt like he had put him in a difficult spot. He reached out and gently stopped his hand.
Only then did the faint scratching stop.
Silence followed. Not heavy, not light—just ambiguous.
Looking at Haru’s unseen eyes, Sihyeon let out a quiet breath and slowly withdrew his hand.
It didn’t seem like simple low self-esteem… it felt like he’d gone through something.
He was curious about Haru’s life, but even if he asked, he wouldn’t get an answer.
He looked innocent enough to follow someone offering candy, but maybe he wasn’t that simple—or maybe he was just very guarded.
Glancing at him, Sihyeon ran a hand through his neat hair. Even as his straight hair fluttered between his fingers, Haru said nothing.
“…I was just trying to be careful. Not trying to pressure you.”
“…….”
“But we’re partners now. It’d be weird not to know if you’re sick. You don’t have to tell me, but… it’d be good to know at least a little. So tell me when you’re comfortable.”
Anytime is fine.
He spoke gently, as if soothing him. After a moment of silence, Haru spoke hesitantly.
“…Are you mad?”
“…What?”
The unexpected question made Sihyeon’s voice rise.
He didn’t know how he appeared to Haru, but Sihyeon was used to enduring things. He could endure until it ate away at him. And he wasn’t someone who got angry easily to begin with.
“I’m not mad.”
“…Really?”
“Really. So lift your head. You’re taller than me—this just looks weird.”
“…….”
“Someone might think I’m bullying you. What if people think I’m hitting you?”
Trying to lighten the mood, he joked. After a beat, a quiet voice answered:
“…I know you’re not like that.”
Sihyeon let out a small laugh.
Despite looking so anxious, Haru somehow triggered a protective instinct. It felt like he needed to carry him around.
For the next six months, I’ll basically raise him—fix the stuttering, the constant head-lowering, help him speak more confidently…
There was a lot to do.
As Sihyeon stroked his chin, Haru finally lifted his head. A thought suddenly crossed Sihyeon’s mind—something he had to confirm.
“Hyung, just in case… do you know someone named Ban Hwi-hyeol?”
“Huh?”
“Ban Hwi-hyeol.”
“…….”
“If you don’t know, just say you don’t. Thinking hard won’t magically make you recognize the name.”
“Ah… yeah… I don’t.”
Of course.
Nodding slowly, Sihyeon accepted the answer.
For now, that was enough. He didn’t know what illness Haru had, but it didn’t seem like a heart condition, and there was no transplant situation involved.
That was good enough.
“By the way, don’t you have anything you’re curious about me?”
“…No.”
After asking so many questions himself, he was ready to answer—but Haru simply shook his head.
Sihyeon let it go.
His gaze dropped to the silver Pairing on his hand. Hamin’s voice echoed in his mind.
“What class is he?”
“….”
Sihyeon glanced at Haru.
He had seemed uncomfortable answering earlier. Would asking now bother him?
Just like how his own life had been thrown off course by the Four Heavenly Kings, maybe Haru saw him as that kind of overwhelming presence.
After a moment of thought, Sihyeon decided it was better to ask directly than check through the Pairing.
“Hyung, about earlier… your class.”
“Ah….”
“Can you tell me what it is?”
“Well….”
Haru hesitated, then lowered his head again.
They had known each other for less than ten minutes, yet this was already familiar. The difference this time—
He wasn’t embarrassed. He was shy.
Or… maybe both.
Sihyeon waited patiently. After a moment, Haru finally spoke in a small voice.
“…As—”
“What?”
Too quiet.
Sihyeon asked again. Haru lifted his head slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact—like a boy shyly confessing.
“…Assassin.”
“…….”
Having gathered his courage, Haru repeated it, then covered his mouth in embarrassment.
Sihyeon stared at him.
…Excuse me.
I know you’re feeling shy right now, but—
Could you maybe not say that kind of class so bashfully?
***
“Pfft! What was that?”
“That’s hilarious—I like him!”
Haeun burst into laughter in the now-quiet auditorium after Sihyeon left, clapping as he smacked Geonwoo’s shoulder. Geonwoo glanced at him, then at the eerily silent Hamin, then shifted his gaze to Seowoo, who was smiling meaningfully.
“I didn’t expect that….”
Seowoo murmured, staring at Sihyeon and Haru through the glass doors. He watched as Sihyeon chatted warmly with the boy he had chosen—and even smiled.
That made twice now.
“He smiled like that earlier too.”
He had smiled faintly when declaring his partner, and now again outside. It was completely different from how he had frowned and tried so hard to avoid Seowoo.
Interesting.
Seowoo turned his gaze to Hamin, who had been unusually quiet.
Hamin stood still, staring at the glass doors, when—
Bzzz. Bzzz.
His phone vibrated.
Clicking his tongue, he pulled it out.
[Hyung]
His expression darkened.
The phone kept vibrating insistently. Knowing it would keep ringing no matter how much he ignored it, Hamin sighed and walked out.
By the time he stepped outside, Sihyeon was already gone.
Glancing at his phone, Hamin reluctantly answered.
“Hello.”
[Hamin. Why did you take so long to answer?]
The voice sounded gentle—but it felt like it was choking him.
[How was the entrance ceremony?]
A casual question.
Too casual.
Hamin closed his eyes, suppressing the disgust crawling under his skin. His brother wasn’t the type to call just to ask how he was doing.
“Get to the point.”
[I heard there’s a new class.]
“….”
[Did you secure them as your partner?]
Of course.
From the moment he heard about the new class, he had expected this.
A headache pressed in. Hamin pinched his temples.
What would happen if he said he failed?
He pictured those dark violet eyes. He couldn’t breathe.
“…I paired with a Buffer.”
[And the new class?]
The follow-up came instantly. Hamin loosened his tie.
“No one knows what it’ll be yet. What, disappointed you didn’t get to see me gamble and fail?”
He exaggerated his tone deliberately—playing the role of the insolent younger brother.
Silence. Then—
[Hamin.]
“….”
[If you’re going to act, don’t make it so obvious.]
Hamin’s face hardened.
No matter what he did, he was still in his brother’s palm.
Disgusting.
A quiet sigh came through the phone.
[If that’s what you say, then fine. A Buffer isn’t a bad pairing. At least you’re a Dual.]
If he hadn’t even been a Dual, imagine how disappointed Father would be.
The calm voice crushed him. Each syllable tightened like a noose.
[I told Father you reached S-class. He was very pleased.]
“….”
[Don’t disappoint us.]
Click. The call ended.
Hamin nearly threw his phone, barely stopping himself as he raked a hand through his hair.
He couldn’t breathe. Loosening his tie didn’t help. Inhaling deeply didn’t help. The suffocating pressure remained.
“…Lee Hayeok?”
Seowoo approached, having followed him out.
Hamin frowned, not answering.
Seowoo interpreted it anyway and patted his shoulder.
“That’s rough.”
“Then get lost.”
“Is it because you lost Sihyeon?”
Ignoring the dismissal, Seowoo continued. Hamin narrowed his eyes.
“…Did you expect this?”
“To some extent.”
“And you still interfered?”
“If it wasn’t Sihyeon, I wouldn’t have. But in the end, we both lost.”
Seowoo smiled.
“I thought he’d choose me.”
That didn’t sound like regret. More like curiosity.
“Is he that special?”
“Isn’t he interesting?”
“What part?”
Aside from his class, Sihyeon wasn’t particularly special.
Good-looking, sure—but that was it.
Seowoo smiled lazily.
“I don’t feel like telling you.”
“What?”
“I want him all to myself.”
You know how greedy I am.
Then, placing a hand on Hamin’s shoulder—
“You wanted his class.”
“….”
“I wanted him.”
“….”
“So from now on, I’d prefer if you only stay interested in people’s classes.”
Don’t get interested in the person.
With that, Seowoo walked back toward the auditorium.
“Come on. If it’s not Sihyeon, you’ll end up with Haeun anyway.”
He had been threatening just moments ago—now he sounded casual again.
Hamin sighed. Even after three years, Yoo Seowoo was impossible to define.
“…What about that guy?”
“Sihyeon’s partner?”
“Yeah.”
Seowoo shrugged.
“He chose him. What can we do?”
“I thought you’d try something.”
“The partner’s already decided.”
He paused, then smiled.
“I’ll just focus on making myself look good to Sihyeon.”
“…Ugh.”
Hamin grimaced.
Seowoo laughed and dragged him back inside.
As expected, Haeun was sulking—complaining they had left him behind. And so, the two of them had no choice but to spend quite some time calming him down.
