“Are you really going to leave me behind?”
The words from Cha Han-gyeom’s mouth made Seo Won pause for a moment.
Cha Han-gyeom let out a small sigh and brushed his bangs back, looking frustrated.
“The product demonstration is just three days away. I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”
Despite the hurried explanation, it sounded quite plausible. Since they were both concerned about the terrorists’ movements, even if Jae-woo was excluded from the conversation, it wasn’t entirely false.
Perhaps because of this, Seo Won accepted the explanation without much suspicion.
“Are you that worried?”
“Of course. I’ve never been far from you since I came to the mansion.”
Cha Han-gyeom turned his head and looked down. His eyebrows twitched slightly, expressing his anxiety.
“I’m not sure if it’s necessary to use bait to lure them out… If something happens to you, I’ll be in trouble.”
“Are you worried I might die?”
“I can’t say it’s not a possibility.”
Seo Won’s stern expression softened, and the corners of his mouth curved into a gentle smile. The thought that he was the one occupying Cha Han-gyeom’s mind filled him with immense satisfaction. Whether this feeling was a result of the Imprint’s overwhelming desire or Seo Won’s own, he felt very pleased.
However, another desire began to surface within him.
The reason Cha Han-gyeom was worried about him was quite simple.
If Seo Won died, Cha Han-gyeom would also die. Seo Won was the only one who could stabilize Cha Han-gyeom during a sudden seizure.
‘The same goes for me.’
Seo Won recalled the image of his Black Vein reflected in the mirror. The only one who could soothe that hideous line around his neck was Cha Han-gyeom.
A symbiotic relationship born out of necessity.
At some point, Seo Won realized that a new desire had begun to creep into that cold symbiotic relationship. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but he had an inkling about one thing.
He wanted Cha Han-gyeom to truly see him.
Not as someone far away or as someone he could never meet again, but as his true self.
‘How absurd.’
It was a desire he had never considered before in his life.
It was confusing, yet he found himself smiling.
The fact that he didn’t hate this feeling was even more amusing.
Seo Won rose from the bed with a faint self-deprecating smile. He entered the dressing room connected to the bedroom and emerged holding a small glass vial.
The vial was so small that it could be hidden in his fist, and it had no label. It contained nothing but clear water, as transparent as the glass itself.
Seo Won approached Cha Han-gyeom from behind, wrapping his arms around him as he sat upright on the bed. Cha Han-gyeom leaned back against Seo Won’s broad and firm chest, feeling its cushioned support. He looked down at Seo Won’s hands, which were stretched out in front of him.
Seo Won’s hands gently lifted Cha Han-gyeom’s, supporting them from underneath. Cha Han-gyeom obediently pressed the edges of his hands together, forming a shallow bowl shape, as if to catch falling water.
“Stay still like that,” Seo Won whispered, opening the small glass vial he had been holding. Cha Han-gyeom watched intently as Seo Won’s hands remained in front of him.
A faint chill emanated from the open vial, accompanied by a cool, refreshing scent that hinted at an intense coldness.
However, it wasn’t the chill that startled Cha Han-gyeom, but something else.
A faint black mist seemed to rise from the vial.
The liquid inside appeared clear, and the vial itself was transparent, yet a dark mist emerged, mingling with the cool air. It was unmistakably ESP, the source of an Esper’s abilities.
For a moment, the liquid in the vial reminded Cha Han-gyeom of the ‘medicine’ he used to have. Unlike the inky black substance he remembered, this liquid was clear, yet the resemblance was eerily striking.
The memory of Seo Won destroying the last of his ‘medicine’ made Cha Han-gyeom unconsciously bite his lower lip.
Unaware of Cha Han-gyeom’s expression, Seo Won slowly poured the liquid from the vial into Cha Han-gyeom’s cupped hands.
As the liquid left the vial, it underwent a dramatic transformation.
A soft crackling sound filled the air, and the liquid froze instantaneously, even before touching Cha Han-gyeom’s skin. The ice began to spread, guided by the black mist that had escaped the vial.
It was a mesmerizing sight.
Under the gentle influence of the black mist, the falling liquid turned to ice in an instant. The ice spread outward in a circular pattern, forming a smooth, curved surface that eventually merged into a single, cohesive shape.
Soon, every drop of liquid from the vial had been transformed, creating a perfectly rounded form of ice that fit comfortably in Cha Han-gyeom’s hands.
Cha Han-gyeom was captivated by the ice in his hands and the black mist that surrounded it.
Having poured all the liquid, Seo Won now lightly supported Cha Han-gyeom’s hands from beneath. The warmth of Seo Won’s touch contrasted sharply with the coldness of the ice created by the black mist.
The black mist that had been smoothing the surface of the ice gradually seeped into it. As it filled the hollow interior, it slowly dissipated, leaving behind a transparent, hollow ice apple.
The ice apple felt cool to the touch but not cold, resembling a intricately carved crystal artwork.
Cha Han-gyeom gazed at the ice apple cradled in his hands, his lips trembling. The energy emanating from it was unmistakably Seo Won’s, and yet, it also felt like Song Yeon-woo’s.
“This is an ice apple made from a solution infused with my ESP,” Seo Won explained. “It should help suppress your seizures even when I’m not around.”
The solution contained Seo Won’s ESP, not for offensive purposes, but purely as an extension of his own energy. Inspired by how Cha Han-gyeom could stabilize his seizures by inhaling Yeon-woo’s ashes, Seo Won had spent days researching and perfecting this solution.
The gentle ESP emanating from the ice apple would be enough to keep Cha Han-gyeom stable just by being near it and breathing its essence. Although it required periodic infusions of the same energy to maintain its form, it would suffice for the duration of the product demonstration.
“Do you like it?” Seo Won asked, kissing the nape of Cha Han-gyeom’s neck as he admired the ice apple.
However, Cha Han-gyeom’s only response was a faint, shaky breath.
“Cha Han-gyeom?”
Expecting a reassuring reaction, Seo Won was met with an unusual silence. He finally looked at Cha Han-gyeom’s face, which was expressionless, his eyes and lips trembling as if he was holding back something.
Internally, Cha Han-gyeom was overwhelmed by a dark emptiness. He felt like he might burst into tears.
It made sense that Seo Won, who had Song Yeon-woo’s heart, would share a similar energy. Their once-separate ESPs had synchronized through the heart transplant, naturally blending as they flowed through the same channels. This was why being with Seo Won brought Cha Han-gyeom a sense of peace, quickly calming any oncoming seizures and making him feel more at ease over time.
Now, that comforting presence had taken a tangible form in his hands. Unlike the past, where he felt endless anxiety and sorrow over the fading remnants of Song Yeon-woo, this ice apple was a clear and tangible reminder.
It felt as if the ice apple itself was Song Yeon-woo, hollow and fragile, just as he had been.
Hyung…
Cha Han-gyeom tightly gripped the ice apple, feeling a faint whisper from it.
We’ll be together even in death.
I’ll always be by your side.
