“Hey! Let me see your face!”
I shouted instinctively at the unidentified man, frustration boiling over. And then—it happened. As if he had heard me, the pitch-black figure strode directly toward Lee Haru.
If Haru’s body had been under my control, like in the real world, he would have stepped back. That was how intense the man’s presence was.
But right now, I was nothing more than an outsider, hidden inside Lee Haru’s body.
Haru remained still, not budging an inch, even as the man approached.
He did not move until the man bent his large frame, wrapped a broad hand around the back of Haru’s neck, and leaned in close—his lips brushing Haru’s ear as he whispered,
“Why not just die? Is that not the only way left to prove your worth?”
Did I just hear that right?
The man was urging Haru to die. Anyone in their right mind would have responded with outrage.
But Haru’s heart collapsed the moment he heard those words—crumbled like a sandcastle pulled under by a sudden wave.
“…You are right. No one would care what happens to me anyway. Except for you.”
That one sentence revealed everything—how Haru truly saw this man. This was not mere infatuation.
If that man told him to die, Haru would obey without hesitation. His devotion was blind, absolute.
A thick, tar-like emotion weighed down my entire body. It felt like someone was squeezing my throat, cutting off my air.
“You understand perfectly. I am the only one in this world who genuinely cherishes Guide Lee Haru. Do not forget that.”
The voice—mechanical, cold, inhuman—scraped harshly against my eardrums. And yet, Haru, disturbingly, felt safe in the man’s arms.
Each time that large hand gently stroked the back of his head in a steady rhythm, Haru’s anxious heart, once thudding wildly, calmed—like a small boat swaying quietly on a lake.
All I could do was watch helplessly. Even though it was a dream, my mind was fading into a haze.
Haru and the mysterious man gradually disappeared into the distance.
I reached out, trying to grab hold of Haru, but it was no use. When the two figures were finally swallowed by total darkness, I awoke, gasping for breath.
“Haa… Hah…”
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. Cold sweat drenched my skin. My fingertips trembled faintly. My clothes clung uncomfortably to my body, soaked through.
***
Peeling his damp shirt away from his skin, Lee Haru looked around.
Night had fallen. He was alone in the living room. With the lights off, the space felt completely different—shrouded in darkness, unnervingly still.
He moved to get up and turn on the light, but dizziness struck like a wave. Shutting his eyes, he waited for the spinning to stop.
Only when he was sure he could move again did he place his feet on the floor—only for a hot sensation to bloom in his nose.
Instinctively, he raised his hand to catch it. Blood poured out like water. One hand was not nearly enough.
The blood seeped through his fingers, trickling down his chin and neck.
Realizing it was useless, Haru dropped his hand. Blood now drenched the lower half of his face and seeped into his shirt, turning the fabric a deep, unreal red.
“I really might not die a natural death at this rate…”
Even his voice was rougher than before sleep. His swollen throat stung with every word.
It was strange he had not noticed it sooner—his breath felt burning hot against his upper lip.
The metallic tang of blood in his mouth was nauseating. To make things worse, his stomach had shriveled and was now angrily demanding food.
With so many symptoms hitting all at once, Haru stood frozen, unable to react—like a lifeless statue.
The mind that normally functioned fine was now fogged over. The dream’s images and the memories from before he fell asleep swirled together chaotically.
As time passed, the bleeding worsened. Even with his eyes open, his vision kept darkening, moment by moment.
I have to do something…
His survival instincts screamed. If this continued, he would bleed to death.
He needed to call for help. The first floor was silent, but with night fallen, there was a good chance someone was upstairs.
Just as Haru’s lips parted to speak, the sound of the door lock chiming echoed from the front entrance. Someone had entered the house.
There were no footsteps. It had to be one of the Espers.
“What are you doing?”
Hong Seong-jun stepped out from the darkness. Through blurred vision, Haru strained to read his expression.
Usually gentle, his face now brimmed with sharp tension, emphasized by the crease between his brows.
“Please… help me…”
His voice barely made a sound, no louder than a mosquito’s buzz. But there was no way Hong Seong-jun would miss it.
As soon as he took one step forward, the distance that had separated them—dozens of paces—closed in an instant.
“What did you drink? Do not tell me that was poison!”
Hong Seong-jun’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He clamped one hand over Haru’s nose and quickly scanned the surroundings.
When he spotted a transparent bottle on the table, something inside him snapped.
His unraveling mind failed to notice the bottle was still full.
Haru shook his head, trying to dispel the misunderstanding—but even that gesture was misread.
“Khk…”
The hand that had been staunching the nosebleed now clutched Haru’s slender neck. He was not even using much force, yet Haru could not breathe.
Desperately, Haru clawed at Hong Seong-jun’s arm with trembling hands, but it was no use.
Tears welled up and traced down his flushed cheeks, a reflexive, involuntary reaction. He was already dizzy from the blood loss.
Then, as his breathing grew faint and ragged, shimmering specks of light flickered before his eyes.
Am I really going to die like this… so pointlessly?
This life had been a bonus round—extra innings granted beyond his original death. Maybe that made it harder to claim unfairness. But it felt unfair all the same.
Strength drained completely from his limbs. He no longer had the energy to keep his eyes open. Darkness swallowed his vision whole.
Dying once had not made death any easier to accept. The thought that this time, it would truly be the end stirred raw fear deep in his chest.
It was terrifying enough to die like this. But what scared him even more… was the thought of going to hell.
He had not exactly lived as a saint. …Okay, maybe he had committed a few small offenses.
That one time the bus driver said no drinks allowed, so I panicked and left my plastic cup on a bench… Or the times I let tiny scraps of paper fall out of my pocket onto the ground…
He also remembered his friends telling him, ‘You’re great and all, but you really lack awareness sometimes.’
Maybe the things he had done thoughtlessly had actually hurt people without him realizing.
They say a child dying before their parents is the gravest form of filial impiety…
His mother and father had vanished one day without warning, leaving behind their young son.
Like a dog abandoned in an empty house, he had survived by drinking water until the neighbor lady called the police and they came to get him.
Maybe it’s better if they never know I died.
Even if they had left him behind, just like he still remembered them… maybe, somewhere deep inside, they still remembered him too.
It feels… warm.
The slow unraveling of his breath was strangely peaceful.
When Hong Seong-jun first wrapped his hands around his neck, it had been excruciating. But now, it felt like sinking into a soft, worn rocking chair—strangely comforting.
A faint light shone through the suffocating dark. As it grew larger, just when he thought it would swallow him whole—
Suddenly, his airways opened.
“Khuk—hah—hhrrgh…”
Lee Haru clutched his throat, choking as he gasped for breath. Saliva dribbled from his slackened lips, mingling with the blood from his nose, staining one corner of the sofa with a deep, gruesome smear.
It felt like being violently ripped from a serene dream and hurled, naked, into freezing river water.
“Hong Seong-jun. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Ugh…”
Lee Haru, eyes red and glazed, looked up. Dressed in casual clothes, Kang Min had Hong Seong-jun pinned down.
A glowing strand of crimson light extended from Kang Min’s right hand, coiling tightly around Hong Seong-jun’s wrist, locking it in place.
The restraint did not merely immobilize—it burrowed into the flesh. Blood oozed from the wounds, pooling around the ribbon before dripping steadily to the floor.
The sharp, metallic tang in the air—it was impossible to tell if it came from Haru’s own bleeding nose, from Hong Seong-jun’s cuts, or from Kang Min himself.
After all, Kang Min’s power was the ability to manipulate and weaponize his own blood at will.
And then—something changed. Something unexpected.
