After parting ways with Haru and returning home, Sihyeon gave a polite nod to the still-awkward parents of this unfamiliar house, washed up, and then headed next door to find Dawoon’s house. Since it was literally right next door, calling it “going to find it” was unnecessary.
He had messed up the very first button—and badly at that. Sihyeon had already sensed it when he ran from Dawoon and ended up meeting Yoo Seowoo, but only after getting tangled up with the rest of the Four Heavenly Kings did he realize he needed to fix that mistake. It felt like nothing would work unless he undid that first wrongly fastened button.
If the choice was between spending the rest of his possessed life under Dawoon’s pressure and threats, or facing things head-on, the answer was obvious.
The latter.
Living while constantly running away and watching his step was exhausting.
That said, he had no intention of spilling everything—like how he wasn’t actually Kang Sihyeon but Yoo Sihyeon from some distant country, and somehow ended up possessing this body. No, he would simply apologize. If she forgave him, he’d be grateful.
The problem was that he might have to risk his life just to say those two words.
Feeling nervous, his throat dry, Sihyeon wet his lips and carefully knocked on Dawoon’s door. Instead of a neat knock knock, a dull thud thud echoed.
Maybe I should’ve just used the doorbell.
Even the sound of knocking irritated him now. What if she misunderstood? As he hesitated, the door clicked open.
“…….”
“What?”
He wanted to at least say hello, but the words wouldn’t come. Standing there like a statue, he watched as Dawoon frowned, still holding the doorknob.
She didn’t look like she wanted to kill him anymore. But she was clearly uncomfortable—and hurt.
Seventeen, after all.
Reading the emotions on her face, Sihyeon finally spoke.
“If you don’t have anything to say, just—”
“I’m sorry.”
“…….”
“I’m sorry.”
There were definitely things he needed to apologize for. Just because he had taken over someone else’s body didn’t mean he could cut off all their relationships. Yet for the past month, he had done nothing but run away.
And in the process, aside from himself, the people who had suffered most were probably Kang Sihyeon’s parents—and Dawoon.
It wasn’t hard to realize. He had just selfishly avoided it.
So when he apologized—late, but sincerely—Dawoon’s brow twitched.
“…It’s fine.”
“…….”
This time, Sihyeon was the one surprised.
He had expected at least a kick to the stomach or a slap.
Instinctively, he touched his abdomen—the book he had tucked there just in case was still pressing against him.
“…You’re not going to hit me?”
“I was going to kill you.”
Of course.
Accepting his fate, Sihyeon closed his eyes.
Watching him act like someone facing death, Dawoon recalled what the short-haired girl had said earlier.
“Did you even try asking what happened? It seems like he has his own reasons. You’ve known him for a long time, right? If he’s not saying anything, maybe it’s something really difficult.”
“If that’s the case, it’s better to wait. Until he chooses to speak first.”
The girl’s gentle, mature voice echoed in her ears. Dawoon pressed her lips together and tightened her grip on the doorknob.
“…You probably have your reasons.”
“…….”
Blink.
Sihyeon’s eyes slowly opened and closed.
After hesitating several times, Dawoon sighed and met his gaze. The sharpness in her demeanor had completely softened.
“I know you’ve changed.”
At those words, Sihyeon froze.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t widen his eyes—he just stared at her.
“…No, not changed. You’ve become strange. Ever since that month you locked yourself in your room.”
“…….”
“You don’t smile like before… I know something’s wrong. So even if it’s late, tell me what happened.”
Your parents are really worried.
For the first time, Dawoon’s tone felt gentle. Sihyeon fell silent. Her turquoise eyes softened.
“Your parents.”
He knew exactly who she meant. And somehow, that made his chest feel heavy.
That was the real Jung Dawoon—the one Kang Sihyeon had known. Not him, Yoo Sihyeon.
What was he supposed to say? The unexpected words left him blank.
Honestly, it would’ve been easier if she had just hit him.
Tell her? What?
That he wasn’t the person she knew? That he had only ever known her through text and was meeting her for the first time today? That they were strangers?
That he wasn’t her neighbor, not Kang Sihyeon—but someone else entirely? That her parents weren’t his parents?
…He’d be lucky if he wasn’t called insane.
Letting out a self-deprecating laugh, Sihyeon slowly turned away.
“I’m going.”
That was all he said.
Not thank you, not I’ll tell you.
Just—
“I’m going.”
Nothing he could say would make sense. Nothing would become truth. Everything he knew felt like a forbidden secret.
Swallowing his breath, Sihyeon walked toward the house. As it came into view, he bit his lip.
Suddenly, everything felt unfamiliar.
The air around him. The breath he took felt like it carried the scent of paper. The house in front of him didn’t feel like his.
Closing his eyes, he thought of Kang Sihyeon’s parents—probably still worrying about him right now.
He couldn’t breathe.
Without a doubt— He was the only one here who didn’t belong. Who wouldn’t be understood.
Dragging his heavy body, he collapsed onto the bed. The soft mattress—once something to envy—felt foreign as he tapped it a few times and stared at the ceiling.
He had skipped lunch. He had no appetite.
Everything felt empty. Everything felt unfamiliar. No matter how he explained it, no one would understand.
Even newborn babies recognize the bottle placed in their mouths as theirs.
But Sihyeon—Everything he held belonged to someone else. A perfect life built entirely by someone else.
That was why everything felt so foreign. Even the breath he exhaled felt like it wasn’t his own.
He thought of the protagonists in those possession fantasy novels he had read.
How did they act so naturally? How did they accept it so calmly?
Sihyeon was sensitive to change.
Enduring emotions and being perceptive were different things. He could endure people—but not the unfamiliarity in his senses. That much was clear now.
Lying in that unfamiliar room, he sank into the silence.
Just survive, the protagonists would think.
But how?
Maybe it was because he wasn’t facing immediate death.
He let out a bitter laugh. Even without that, this life—Kang Sihyeon’s life—felt suffocating.
Of course, there had been moments where he struggled desperately to survive. Like those protagonists.
Running from Seowoo. Avoiding Dawoon. Trying to shake off the Four Heavenly Kings.
But once those moments passed, they felt meaningless.
He only struggled because he wanted a quiet life. So that when—if—he ever returned to being Yoo Sihyeon, he wouldn’t leave damage behind for Kang Sihyeon. So that Kang Sihyeon wouldn’t feel this same alien sensation.
That was why he tried.
A bitter taste filled his mouth.
The more everything felt like it belonged to someone else, the more he longed for what was his—even if that meant his own death. Even though his life hadn’t been particularly happy.
Curling under the blanket, Sihyeon closed his eyes.
Maybe his original body was already dead. But if he were given the choice— He knew he would return. Even if it meant returning to a dead body.
Because this world was just paper. A world where he had contributed nothing.
Tick. Tock.
The sound of the clock filled the room.
Letting himself sink into it, Sihyeon closed his eyes.
Sleep came quickly—An escape from a reality he couldn’t bear.
***
“…….”
Endless darkness stretched out.
Sihyeon stepped forward blindly, when—
Click.
A small light flickered on in the distance.
Drawn to it, he began walking.
Slowly.
The closer he got, the clearer it became.
Everything around him was damp and pitch black—Except that one warm, bright space.
And in it, someone stood.
As he approached, the figure became clearer.
And when he finally saw the face, Sihyeon stopped. His blue eyes widened.
In that bright light, stood a boy with the exact same face as him.
