Rumble.
A low, reverberating voice shook the space. Feeling the vibration beneath his feet, the boy turned his body and looked at the figure before him. Inside the darkness of the robe, dozens—hundreds—of eyes rolled about. The boy who faced it simply shrugged, unfazed.
Living here, the boy had grown bolder, more deceitful, and more shameless.
“Well, I still have a price to collect from you.”
“Haven’t you already been paid for what you mentioned?”
“It’s not like I asked for anything big. Besides, if there weren’t any room for it, you wouldn’t have come here in the first place. That’s the kind of being you are.”
Do me a favor just this once.
Grinning, the boy spoke brazenly. Unlike when they first met, he no longer feared making eye contact. Watching him, the being curved its many eyes. Dozens of eyes bent into crescent shapes. It was a chilling sight.
“If it’s for amusement, I suppose it’s not so bad. However, this will be the last time.”
“Come on, it’s not like I’m some pathetic guy who’d cling to you over one little loophole. This is enough.”
The boy joked as he spoke and plopped down into place. As he dropped to the ground, the being waved its hand. The crumbling space reversed as if time had turned back, restoring itself. Watching it fix what it had destroyed was oddly comical. Even the cracks sealed themselves shut. As he felt that, the boy recalled the person he had thrown beneath those cracks.
Seriously, what a handful.
It was hard to tell which of them was the child. He himself hadn’t been very mature either, but Yoo Sihyeon was a being that had stopped. Someone who hadn’t grown, frozen exactly where he was. From the boy’s perspective—having watched Yoo Sihyeon’s life more than anyone—that’s what he was. Thinking that Yoo Sihyeon was childish in a different sense as well, the boy frowned at the being still standing in place.
“What are you waiting for? Aren’t you leaving?”
“Kang Sihyeon, do you still have no regrets?”
“I told you, I don’t.”
“…We’ll see about that.”
Rumble.
The space that had just been restored trembled again at his voice. Speaking in a dark tone, he slowly turned his body, the massive robe billowing. The boy quickly shut his eyes.
A deafening roar of wind filled his ears, and soon a fierce gust slammed into him. The force pushed his body backward, and he raised an arm to shield his face, grimacing. Only after the wind subsided did he open his eyes again—only to see an empty void.
“…This isn’t something you can do over and over.”
Flopping onto his back, the boy shook his head as he felt his fingertips trembling. His vision was pitch black. In the space that would only brighten once Yoo Sihyeon opened his eyes, the boy simply breathed—until gradually, light began to return. His lips curled upward.
He had taken the risk and given his advice.
Now, it was time to quietly watch.
***
“Sihyeon!”
As soon as Sihyeon showed signs of waking, the Principal reacted first. Hearing the voice beside him, Sihyeon lifted his eyelids and frowned at the light that filled his vision. The artificial brightness felt blinding.
“Sihyeon, are you conscious?”
As he blinked several times to adjust, the Principal asked. Slowly turning his head, Sihyeon scanned his surroundings and realized he wasn’t in the dorm or the Principal’s office. He looked toward the source of the voice. The Principal’s face came into view, a mix of relief and surprise.
“…Where am I?”
The moment he spoke, Sihyeon startled and touched his throat. His voice was so hoarse it sounded unfamiliar. As he fumbled with it, the Principal let out a relieved sigh.
“This is the infirmary. You suddenly collapsed, so we brought you here immediately, but no one could figure out why you fainted.”
That makes sense.
He was probably the first person to engrave a class beyond what his body could handle. In other cases, once someone completed an engraving suited to their body, the mark disappeared, making further engravings impossible.
Thinking he had quite the unfortunate fate, Sihyeon looked down at his body. He could feel three distinct energies, yet there was no pain. It seemed the Kang Sihyeon in his dream had really managed to do something.
At this point, I’m curious about his identity.
He always seemed confined to that black space—so where was he gathering information from? As for the “being” Kang Sihyeon had mentioned just before falling into the crack, Sihyeon had no guesses. The sudden flood of information failed to settle in his mind, scattering in all directions. It was always like this. Every time he met Kang Sihyeon, his questions only multiplied, leaving him more confused than ever.
“Sihyeon, are you okay?”
“Ah, yes….”
After he remained silent for a long while, staring downward with a thoughtful expression, the Principal asked again. Thinking he had received more concern in the past month than ever before, Sihyeon answered quietly and closed his eyes.
At the very least, Kang Sihyeon had never said anything pointless. Which meant the information he’d just given him was likely important.
He didn’t know who “that person” was, but…
He had said there was a being trying to manipulate him. To make sure he never forgot that this place was a novel. But—
Why?
Too many things didn’t add up. He didn’t understand why it was a problem for him to think of this place as a novel, nor how that related to the “happiness” Kang Sihyeon spoke of. Why Kang Sihyeon helped him while “that person” took the opposite path, who that person even was, and what exactly had been done to him—he knew none of it. There were too many unknowns.
Feeling like he was standing on a massive board while completely ignorant, Sihyeon pressed his forehead. There were many pieces to think about, yet none of them connected. Unable to fit even a single puzzle piece together, he frowned before lowering his hand with a sigh as heat rose to his head.
It seemed impossible to resolve this without meeting Kang Sihyeon again.
Until then, he decided to set these concerns aside. Clenching and unclenching his hand, he noted how clear his senses were. Even the trembling had stopped—he really did seem fine now.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“More than half a day. It’s the 27th today.”
“…What?”
Sihyeon’s eyes widened. He had collapsed on the evening of the 26th, yet when he woke up, a full day had passed. Unaware he had been out that long, he opened and closed his mouth in surprise. The Principal stroked his chin.
“You seem fine now, but are you feeling any pain?”
“No.”
“And you don’t know why you collapsed?”
“No. Maybe I was just unwell.”
“…You did mention feeling unwell when you first engraved your class.”
That stung his conscience. Hearing the Principal say he’d thought it was a lie back then, Sihyeon cleared his throat awkwardly. It felt strange that what he had treated as a “concept” was becoming reality.
Come to think of it, the others are probably making a fuss again.
Class A had already started hovering over him since the ship incident. If they heard he had collapsed this time too, they might go beyond overprotection and actually lock him in a room. Then they’d probably feed him while saying something like, “Prisoner No. 728, time to eat!” while completely ignoring his freedom. From Sihyeon’s perspective, they were more than capable of that.
Hadn’t something similar already happened on the ship?
Just imagining it made him tired. Groaning softly, Sihyeon’s gaze drifted past the Principal to the closed door. Maybe they were already waiting for him outside.
“…Do the others know I collapsed?”
“I’ve only informed the students who share your room.”
So everyone knows.
Kang Haeun was in his room. If Kang Haeun knew, then all of Class A knew. Imagining that loudmouth who couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, Sihyeon shook his head, predicting what was to come. The next few days were going to be a headache.
“Um, may I go now?”
“You can stay longer if you’d like.”
“I’m not in pain anymore. I think I should practice my new skill as well.”
“…You mean going to the training grounds?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.” After rubbing his chin thoughtfully, the Principal nodded. Having received permission, Sihyeon got out of bed. The moment his feet touched the floor, his body swayed. A sudden wave of dizziness hit him. He barely managed to steady himself against the wall, and the Principal’s eyes narrowed. Afraid the Principal might change his mind, Sihyeon quickly slipped out of the infirmary.
“Kang Sihyeon.”
As soon as he opened the door, just as expected, the Class A students were waiting outside. Seeing them exactly as predicted, Sihyeon awkwardly raised a hand.
“Hi.”
“…Are you insane?”
He tried to lighten the mood, only to get cursed at. He had hoped to shift the conversation away from his collapse, but it seemed impossible. Rolling his eyes, Sihyeon looked at Hamin, who had just sworn at him. Leaning against the wall and partially blocking Haeun—who was dozing—Hamin frowned.
“What are you, made of paper? Why do you keep collapsing?”
“I won’t collapse anymore.”
“Oh yeah? Then why were you lying unconscious for half a day?”
There was concern mixed into the scolding. Sihyeon, who had only ever seen this kind of “male lead concern” in novels, suddenly recalled Kang Sihyeon’s words and closed his mouth.
It was as if he could hear a voice telling him not to define things however he pleased.
He stared quietly at Hamin. Perhaps feeling burdened by the gaze, Hamin frowned and took a step back.
“Why are you staring like that?”
“Just.”
“What?”
“I was wondering if you were worried about me.”
“Hah.”
“I said it because you looked pathetic—pathetic!”
At his words, Hamin snapped as if angry. Listening to the mix of truth and denial, Sihyeon noticed Dawoon, who looked unusually serious. Just as he expected another harsh remark, Dawoon’s eyes turned faint as she bit her lip.
“…Lately, when I look at you, I don’t understand anything anymore.”
“…?”
After muttering something incomprehensible, Dawoon lowered her gaze and abruptly turned away. Seeing her leave so suddenly, Jihye looked flustered.
“Sorry, Dawoon’s been really sensitive lately. Even so, she was worried about you the whole time before you woke up.”
Speaking as if she were a spokesperson, Jihye apologized several times before hurrying after Dawoon. Watching her go blankly, Sihyeon blinked at a thought that crept in.
Did she notice… or is she just confused?
Either way, it seemed certain that Dawoon was feeling conflicted about him. Recalling the study session, Sihyeon looked at those who remained. Haeun was still dozing against the wall, while Geonwoo and Seowoo watched him with similar expressions—like they didn’t know how to deal with him.
Just as he was thinking he didn’t see Haru, someone stood up from below.
Striding toward him, the boy approached quickly. Sihyeon fixed his gaze on Haru. Even when he reached him, Haru didn’t stop, making Sihyeon tilt his head in confusion—until finally, he did stop.
With his head lowered so his red eyes couldn’t be seen, Haru reached out his hand and suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Hyung?”
Startled by the sudden action, Sihyeon called out to him. Haru buried his face into Sihyeon’s shoulder. Unlike before, when he seemed like he would overflow with worry, the boy simply held him silently.
