Late at night, Hyo-jeong returned to her hotel room, deep in thought. The academic conference had run late, and she’d even stayed for the group dinner afterward. A few close colleagues had insisted she join, and it had been hard to slip away. Originally, she’d planned to head back earlier that evening.
“Should I just leave tomorrow morning…?”
She hadn’t scheduled any appointments for the next morning anyway. Since she’d come all the way to Busan, she had intended to take a day off. But after getting a call from Seo Inho in the early hours last week, she’d scrapped her plans.
“What’s so special about him, anyway.”
Clicking her tongue, Hyo-jeong sank deep into the plush sofa. She had always been unusually attentive when it came to Inho’s affairs.
Not that they were particularly close. There were years when they hadn’t spoken at all. She could count the number of times they’d had a meal together on one hand, and usually, she only saw his face when he dropped by the hospital.
Still, Hyo-jeong had always shown a keen interest in what was going on with Inho. She paid attention to the rumors that drifted in from afar, and there had even been times when she tagged along to drinking parties she would normally avoid, just to hear news about him.
She was simply curious about how he was doing. Hyo-jeong didn’t just want Inho to live—she wanted him to live well. Preferably, happily.
“Ah, screw it. I’ll just go tomorrow.”
Pulling her hair into a tight ponytail, Hyo-jeong jumped up from the sofa. It was already late, and her throat was dry—she was starting to crave a beer. Just one can, then straight to bed.
She opened the fridge and pulled out a cold can of beer, then turned on some music. A mellow-tempo old pop song blared through the speakers.
Humming along with the tune, Hyo-jeong hesitated just as she was about to crack the can open. Before taking her first sip, she figured it’d be better to lock down tomorrow’s schedule, so she pulled out her phone.
Seo Inho was notoriously unpredictable. There was a decent chance he might not show up at all, so she needed to confirm. It was late, but Inho’s idea of “morning” was everyone else’s “afternoon,” so it wouldn’t matter.
[Hospital at 3 tomorrow. Don’t forget.]
She sent the brief text, then returned to the couch. If he didn’t respond within ten minutes, she decided she’d treat herself to a second can. Knowing Inho, there was always a high chance he’d cancel last-minute.
“Since he brought it up, I hope he actually shows.”
The idea of heading back to Seoul was tiring, but she was more curious about Inho’s girlfriend than she was exhausted. This was the first time she’d ever seen him go out of his way to take care of someone he was dating, which only stoked her interest further.
What kind of person could she be?
Stretching, Hyo-jeong let her mind wander, imagining all sorts of possibilities. For some reason, she had a good feeling about this one—like Inho might actually be seeing someone decent this time. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on her part.
“Oh.”
Right then, her phone rang. She’d expected a short, half-hearted reply at best, so the incoming call caught her off guard. Surprised, a mix of warmth and unease crept in at the same time.
“Hey, Inho.”
Still slouched comfortably into the sofa, Hyo-jeong’s head gradually tilted forward.
On the other end of the line, it wasn’t Inho’s voice—it was the sound of a stranger crying. Hyo-jeong immediately noticed the panicked, gasping breaths and set down her can of beer. In a flash, she stood up from the sofa and began gathering her things.
—I-It’s… It’s Inho-ssi… Inho-ssi…
“I’m listening. Go on, keep talking.”
The man’s voice was muffled and unsteady through his sobs. It sounded almost childlike. Hyo-jeong focused on the slurred speech, keeping her tone steady as she calmly asked for his location. Thankfully, the answer came back clearly: Inho’s apartment.
“An ambulance will be there in five minutes.”
In an instant, Hyo-jeong threw on a coat over her clothes and yanked her suitcase closed. Her fingers moved quickly, even turning off the music that had been playing just moments before.
***
Haon had never once set foot in a large hospital before. Even when he first presented as an Omega, he’d gone to a small OB/GYN clinic in a neighboring town. The rural village where he grew up didn’t even have that.
The hospital was vast, full of people, and blindingly bright despite the deep hour of the night.
While Inho was being examined, Haon sat alone in a waiting chair, staring blankly around him. His expression was one of someone trying to confirm if all this was real—or still just a dream.
It couldn’t possibly be a dream. No dream lasted this long. Accepting that, a fresh wave of tears spilled down from his aching eyes.
Pressing his face into the tissues the paramedics had handed him, he cried silently. The tissues were already damp, unable to hold back the tears flowing endlessly from Haon’s eyes.
It was a night so long and excruciating it felt unbearable.
Eventually, someone came to help him up and guided him toward the hospital room. It wasn’t until a stranger slipped slippers onto his bare feet that he realized he hadn’t been wearing any shoes. That was how out of it he was. He couldn’t even remember how they’d gotten to the hospital in the first place.
The moment he saw Inho lying alone on the wide, sterile white hospital bed, a burning heat surged behind his eyes. Haon bit his lip, swallowing the rising sobs. If he cried now, his vision would blur, and he wouldn’t be able to see Inho clearly.
Rubbing his face hard with both hands, he forced his eyes open wide, desperate to see every detail.
Inho looked just like he always did. He was resting quietly with his eyes closed, his breath rising and falling in soft, rhythmic patterns.
What had happened just a few hours ago now felt like a short-lived nightmare. But the bandages wrapped around Inho’s hand and the scrapes on his neck were all too real—clear signs that this was no dream.
“Inho-ssi…”
Haon called his name in a voice barely above a whisper, careful not to disturb his sleep. He knew Inho needed to rest—but a part of him still wished he would just open his eyes. The urge to peel back those eyelids and look into them, just for a moment, was almost unbearable.
He reached out on impulse, wanting to touch Inho’s face—but stopped himself, curling his hand into a fist. He tried instead to take his hand, but the sight of the thick IV needle in the back of Inho’s hand made him give up on that, too.
Haon dragged a metal chair over and leaned his upper body against the head of the bed. He didn’t take his eyes off Inho for a single second. Until morning broke, he stayed at his side, not budging an inch.
In the morning, Inho’s attending physician came in and asked a series of questions—about Inho’s usual sleep schedule, daily routines, eating habits, and the like. But Haon couldn’t answer a single one with certainty.
He couldn’t give any definitive answers.
“Maybe. But it might not be,” he would say, always tacking on something uncertain. His hoarse voice carried no confidence.
The doctor told Haon to get some rest and was about to leave the room when Haon stopped him to ask about Inho’s condition. Only then did the doctor share the test results.
The sudden seizure symptoms and the dramatic spike in body temperature were caused by an overdose of suppressants. Apparently, Inho had strained his body too much trying to forcibly suppress his rut. He should have let it run its course to a degree, but he hadn’t.
A few other brief diagnoses followed—terms like gastric ulcers and malnutrition swirled around in Haon’s head, creating a chaotic storm of confusion. It was hard to believe those words were being used to describe Inho’s condition.
They’d eaten meals together so regularly…
Staring at Inho’s closed eyes, Haon replayed their days together. The two of them had sat across the table from one another, sharing meals lovingly prepared by Inho and talking for hours. Every single day, without fail.
Haon’s pupils wavered, clouded by turmoil.
He was starting to question whether the peaceful moments he thought he’d shared had ever really happened at all. Had he imagined it all—eating, drinking, enjoying life together—when in fact he’d just been alone the entire time?
His thoughts became a tangled, heated mess. Leaning forward, Haon gently rested his forehead beside Inho’s hand, careful not to disturb the IV needle piercing his skin. He took a shaky breath, closed his eyes tightly, and fought back the wave of emotions rising from deep within him.
At some point, he drifted off.
Who knew how much time had passed? Haon woke up feeling a soft warmth draped across his shoulders. As he sluggishly sat up, the blanket that had been covering him slipped off.
“Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
The sound of clicking heels drew near, accompanied by a voice that felt strangely familiar. It was Hyo-jeong.
She had been standing by the hospital room’s mini-fridge but now approached him with a gentle introduction. She explained that she was a doctor at the hospital and someone who’d known Inho for a long time—like an older sister.
“We met briefly in the early morning. You probably don’t remember, right?”
She was the one who had helped him into slippers. Haon’s mouth hung open for a second before he gave a belated nod. He hadn’t even realized she’d been the one to help him.
“Thank you…”
“What’s your name?”
Smiling softly, Hyo-jeong asked as she pulled the blanket back up over Haon’s shoulders. Despite her sharp features, she had a strangely comforting presence. Swallowing dryly, Haon answered slowly.
“Jung Haon.”
“Mind if I ask your age too?”
When he replied that he was twenty-one, she nodded with a hint of admiration.
“I figured. Your skin is flawless—it really is baby-smooth.”
She opened a juice bottle and gently placed it in Haon’s hand. His lips were painfully dry, so he nodded politely and took a sip.
It tasted like nothing. The cold from the glass bottle seeped into his fingers, but the liquid in his mouth felt lukewarm and dull.
Hyo-jeong quietly observed him, her eyes steady as he merely wetted his lips and set the bottle back down.
“I put a sandwich in the fridge. Eat it when you get hungry.”
“Yes, thank you…”
Haon’s lips parted slightly as he repeated his thanks. Memories of the night before flickered through his mind—how, thanks to her, Inho had been rushed to the hospital so quickly. Since it was the hospital where Inho’s attending physician worked, the examinations had proceeded much faster as well.
Haon realized he hadn’t done anything. All he had done was cry—and cry again.
“Originally, we were supposed to meet today. Did you know that?”
With her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her white coat, Hyo-jeong continued the conversation naturally. She treated Haon with a familiar warmth, despite it being their first meeting.
“Yes… He said we should get a check-up…”
“When did he tell you that?”
“Um… the day before yesterday.”
Hyo-jeong nodded leisurely, then began telling Haon things he hadn’t known.
“Actually, he told me he was coming to see me last week. You didn’t know that, did you?”
