It wasn’t a story that could be told in just a few words.
Min Yugeon listened to my story over a long stretch of time. How monsters became docile only in my presence, how I discovered that fact through Rai—whom my parents used to study at home when I was a child—and how the monster I encountered when I fell to the surface because of Lee Shin, the one I brought back to the ship, turned out to be Rai, whom I’d believed to be dead.
“So…”
Min Yugeon, who had quietly listened until now, finally spoke.
“That’s why you were so concerned. About that monster.”
During the few days of forced leave I was given after being kidnapped by Lee Shin, I tried to spend as much time as I could with Min Yugeon, but I also had to take care of Rai, who had followed me. Min Yugeon, who knew I had gone to the lab to see Rai, now nodded as if he finally understood.
Then he silently bowed his head.
“……”
“……”
I looked down at the top of Min Yugeon’s head. Maybe the reason he chose to react to the story about Rai first was because admitting the truth of my ability would mean he could no longer oppose my plan to go down to the surface. With such a clear and undeniable power, what grounds could he possibly use to object?
If I were in Min Yugeon’s shoes, I would’ve felt the same. Surprised, bewildered, and desperate not to be separated—it would all feel overwhelmingly complicated.
“…Alright.”
At last, Min Yugeon spoke.
“I believe you. That your eyes have that kind of power.”
He struggled to lift his head and looked at me.
“Honestly, I didn’t think it would be that powerful… I mean, I guess that explains why you’ve been safe among monsters.”
As if relieved all over again just thinking about it, Min Yugeon slowly closed his eyes, took a shallow breath, and exhaled.
“Thank you for telling me, Suho. But…”
“Yeah.”
“I really don’t want to be apart from you.”
His voice and breath weren’t steady at all. He seemed to be trying hard to speak calmly, to keep his composure, but it was obvious he couldn’t hold back the storm of emotion.
His teary dark brown eyes began to lose focus, and his breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling in unstable waves. I jumped up and hurried over to where he sat across from me.
“Min Yugeon.”
“S-sorry, I… I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
He gasped as he clutched his own throat. A chill crept down my spine.
I wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and cupped his face.
“Look at me, Yugeon.”
I’d experienced these symptoms before—on the day I thought something had happened to him.
The thought that I’d shocked him that badly made me bite down hard on my lip. It was clear now that Min Yugeon’s condition was far worse than it appeared on the surface.
“You’re doing great. Now, just like me—deep breath in… and slowly let it out.”
I swept my hand gently down his back, hiding my own guilt, guiding him to breathe calmly. And slowly, it started to work. His frantic, shallow breaths grew slower, returning to a more normal rhythm right before my eyes.
With his eyes tightly shut, Min Yugeon reached out with a trembling hand and gripped my wrist. I let him hold on and wrapped my arms around his head, pulling him close against me.
“Feel a little better?”
“……”
He only gave a quiet nod. The strength that had gripped my body earlier was completely gone now. I held back a sigh as a sharp sting twisted in my chest.
“I think I was too hasty. I’m sorry for bringing it up so suddenly.”
At my words, he shook his head this time. A warm, damp sensation began to spread—my clothes soaking through with his tears.
“Don’t apologize. I’m the one who freaked out.”
He mumbled the words, and I looked down at his visibly trembling shoulders.
“The thought of you leaving just made it hard to breathe…”
When he gently lifted his face, it was soaked in tears.
Min Yugeon, who could laugh off anything, falling apart like this because of me—it crushed me with guilt. My shoulders felt heavy, like they were being weighed down by something I couldn’t shake.
“I’m not leaving for good. I’ll be coming back to the ship regularly.”
I tried to reassure him, lowering my voice as I did.
“And it’s not like I’m leaving right now. The plan won’t move forward until the Captain approves it. Even then, it’ll probably take a long time just to construct the base on the surface.”
“…Okay.”
Min Yugeon slowly nodded and wiped at his eyes with a clenched fist.
Instead of lashing out with So you’re still leaving eventually, or clamming up to shut down the conversation, he seemed to have decided—for now, at least—to accept it.
His tear-glazed eyes looked up at me, lips parting hesitantly.
“So… that means you won’t be alone there, right?”
“Probably not.”
If anyone else were there besides me, to the monsters, the base would be nothing more than a box filled with delicious food. Even if they were in the same facility, if they were far from me, the monsters would undoubtedly try to break in to get to them.
But I had Rai. My monster—who didn’t attack humans and followed my command.
There was also Cat, who had cooperated with Sun Woosung and watched my cues to avoid harming others. Still, I couldn’t help but feel uncertain about him.
If Rai, a top-tier specimen, protected the base, it would be possible to safeguard human lives.
Of course, if there were too many people inside, the monsters outside might ignore Rai’s threat and attack out of sheer hunger. That’s why I believed the base should house only a bare minimum of essential personnel.
So I’d gone to the extreme and considered just one person.
Someone capable of maintaining and repairing the base, someone who had the courage to trust only me and survive on the surface.
“Is that so?”
Hearing my answer, the darkness and resignation clouding Min Yugeon’s face began to lift, bit by bit.
I didn’t want to tell him I was planning on taking just one person with me. That would only worry him again.
Instead, I said nothing and quietly stroked his hair.
***
Lee Minha sat staring blankly at the floor, her eyes hollow.
She looked nothing like the woman she once was—neat, composed, dignified. Now, she was in such disarray that it was hard to believe this was the same person.
“She stays like that all day. We help her change clothes and administer nutrients, but she refuses to eat or sleep.”
The medical staff member standing next to me explained her condition.
“She’s in a state of severe underweight. We need her cooperation for recovery, but that’s proving difficult, and frankly, it’s becoming a serious concern. We believe psychological treatment needs to come first.”
“I see.”
“Yes. If we can get consent from her guardian, we could begin right away, but…”
The doctor glanced at me. He already knew I wasn’t Lee Minha’s legal guardian. He also knew that I could relay this to Min Yugeon, who had yet to visit her even once.
It was common knowledge at the hospital that Lee Minha, who’d been brought in after collapsing the day Min Yugeon suddenly left, was his mother—and that Min Yugeon and I were friends.
“……”
A flash of memory came to mind—Min Yugeon quietly declining when I suggested we come here together before I left for the hospital.
His expression held no trace of hesitation, regret, or emotional burden, as if he had sliced through his relationship with Lee Minha like a well-sharpened blade. It had felt so clean it was almost jarring, as if he were suppressing something much deeper.
Still, if he were told she required critical treatment, I had no doubt he’d give his consent—maybe even come to the hospital to check on her.
“I’d like to speak with her for a moment.”
I nodded toward the door, indicating Lee Minha. The medical staff gave a small nod in return.
I stepped into the hospital room with my back to them.
Even as I closed the door, Lee Minha didn’t seem to register that I had entered. She remained completely still, her head hung low.
I stood in silence, watching her.
When I first heard that Min Sanghan had used drugs to push Lee Minha into a comatose state, my heart had thudded with cold, nauseating disgust.
It was because Lee Minha wasn’t someone I could categorize as a person whose death wouldn’t matter.
Yes, she had kept silent for years, knowing full well that her husband had harmed my mother and father.
But she had also suffered—crushed under the weight of that guilt. She couldn’t even bear to look me in the eye.
That much, I could acknowledge.
Still, that didn’t mean I could understand her, much less accept her.
To me, Lee Minha was someone I could never forgive.
…And yet.
She was still someone Min Yugeon had once loved with all his heart.
She was, above all, his mother.
And for that reason alone, I had come here today.
Even if I couldn’t forgive her, maybe I could pretend I had—just a little.
I didn’t bother softening the sound of my footsteps as I walked toward her bed.
Sensing my presence, Lee Minha slowly lifted her head.
Her cheeks were gaunt, her eyes sunken deep into her face.
There wasn’t a shred of vitality left in her expression.
“Ah…”
Her eyes flew wide the moment they met mine.
