“Sihyeon!”
With a loud thud, Sihyeon collapsed, and people rushed toward him. The teachers who had been organizing the wrecked ship, the students who had been watching Sihyeon and Luce’s conversation from afar, and the Class A students—all of them surged forward at once. In the midst of the crowd, the one who scooped up the fallen Sihyeon was Seowoo.
Leaving behind Haru, who had gone blank in panic at Sihyeon’s sudden loss of consciousness, Seowoo held him and looked up at the people approaching with sunken eyes. The students flinched and stepped back. In the meantime, Seowoo’s gaze shifted to the teachers.
“Is there a cabin that’s still intact?”
At his lower-than-usual tone, the teachers guided Seowoo and Sihyeon to a cabin. Class A trailed behind them in a line, and Luce, who had been sitting, rose to his feet.
Slowly, Seowoo laid Sihyeon down on the bed and stared at him—he had only just regained consciousness, and now he had fainted again.
He said he was fine.
Idiot.
An uncomfortable, unpleasant emotion stirred within him. Not understanding what exactly it was, Seowoo frowned, when a teacher who had checked Sihyeon’s condition concluded that it was simple fainting. The students let out sighs of relief.
“Do you know what caused him to faint?”
“…He insisted he wasn’t hurt and kept moving around on his own, then collapsed near the railing. Since waking up, he’d been standing with his back to it the whole time, so I think… it was probably because he saw the sea.”
“Crazy bastard.”
Though clearly an answer to the teacher’s question, Hamin’s words ended like a mutter. Clicking his tongue, he frowned deeply as he looked at Sihyeon. Luce, who had entered and shut the door, gave a simple conclusion.
“Trauma.”
“…….”
“Doesn’t look like he was aware of it. Seemed fine, then suddenly dropped.”
Speaking without hesitation, Luce casually sat on the edge of the bed and lifted Sihyeon’s eyelid. Confirming he had indeed fainted, he let out a sigh.
“I came to watch, and I end up doing all sorts of things.”
Muttering as if lamenting, he turned to the Awakened from the Association standing in the corner.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Pardon?”
“Judging by his condition, it’ll be hard for him to stay on the ship all the way to school. Want me to teleport him?”
“…….”
“Or just leave him to faint again the next time he sees the ocean.”
It was half a threat. Watching them flinch, Luce ran a hand through his hair and stared down at the unconscious Sihyeon.
He had gone through the trouble of saving him, only for him to collapse again. The way he kept dropping like that—he might as well have been a scarecrow.
He said he couldn’t complete his Class Engraving because he was in pain.
I thought he was lying. Guess it was true.
Luce’s eyes narrowed at the thought that someone like that had been left unattended like this. Even now, he could take him to IRS. As that thought kept pushing to the forefront, he inhaled slowly.
This was someone who had developed trauma under the hands of incompetents. If left with them, there was no telling what would happen next. If he went back to the U.S. like this, he might end up hearing that a promising Quadruple had been wasted in Korea.
Seeing no response from the Awakened, Luce furrowed his brow. They were incompetent, and now frustrating on top of it.
“Did you forget how to answer?”
Maybe I should just take him.
At that fleeting impulse, Luce reached out and gently brushed Sihyeon’s hair. His gaze sank slowly.
Recently, Rifts had been appearing more frequently—not just in the U.S., but worldwide. With people constantly seeking him out, it had been exhausting enough, and then he heard news of a Quadruple.
If raised properly, one person could do the work of hundreds, even thousands, of Awakened.
It was the best news he had heard in a long time.
He still had two Class Engravings left. And the ones he had already engraved were Healer and Copy.
Rare. So rare that it was beyond assigning any monetary value.
Which made him want it even more. If he took him, he could raise him to be at least on his own level. The only problem was—
Korea.
As Luce wrestled with the thought, he suddenly recalled a certain ill-tempered twenty-year-old. Then he lowered the hand he had extended toward Sihyeon.
“Raise him properly. Before I just take him.”
Muttering like a warning, he stood up from the bed. Since they didn’t seem inclined to answer anyway, it would be better to ask the fledgling Quadruple himself when he woke up.
With that thought, Luce left the room. The teachers and Awakened, who had been watching him go, let out simultaneous sighs.
“Let’s leave Sihyeon to rest for now. There’s still a lot we need to take care of.”
“…Yes.”
At the head teacher’s words, the teachers, their expressions dark, glanced once at Sihyeon before leaving. The Awakened followed after them, and soon only the Class A students remained in the spacious room.
Holding their breath, they stared at Sihyeon.
The boy lay as if dead, proving he was alive only through his faint breathing and the slight rise and fall of his chest.
The first to stand was Jihye.
“…I’ll go help the teachers.”
Though she said that, everyone knew it was because she couldn’t bear to keep looking at Sihyeon lying there. The atmosphere had been even worse the last time he had lost consciousness.
Remembering that moment, Hamin frowned. The image of Sihyeon being dragged away by the Titan resurfaced. Even then, he hadn’t said a single word asking to be saved—Kang Sihyeon had simply been pulled into the water.
The memory was still vivid. Hamin bit the inside of his cheek.
As Jihye left, Dawoon, who had been silently watching Sihyeon, also stood and exited the room.
“What Class A.”
She spat the words coldly.
The heavy silence that followed shut everyone’s mouths. At that moment when Sihyeon had been taken, not a single one of them had been able to help him.
They had been powerless.
In the silence, Hamin clenched his fists as he recalled what Sihyeon had done just before being dragged away by the Irregular.
No one had dared to move recklessly. Even the teachers had been cautious, terrified.
And yet, Kang Sihyeon had jumped in to save a girl he didn’t even know. And in her place, he had been taken. And all he had done was watch.
The thought made his blood boil with self-disgust.
Silence settled over the room. The one who finally broke it among the remaining boys was Haeun.
“A humanoid Irregular that lives in the sea.”
“…….”
Everyone’s gaze snapped to him. While the others had been focused on Sihyeon fainting, Haeun had been fixated on that one moment ever since Sihyeon was taken—and now, he had reached a near-certain conclusion.
“Why do you think Sihyeon asked about that?”
At Haeun’s question, the students all turned to look at the unconscious Sihyeon.
“The Titan is an Irregular that first appeared three years ago. It showed up off the U.S. coast, and Luce-hyung took care of it before it even made the news, so it never became widely known. Even the Association considered it half-eliminated and didn’t include it in training. That’s why none of us knew about it.”
Listening to him, the sense of unease deepened. As if to solidify it, Haeun continued.
“Sihyeon—didn’t he seem strange today?”
“A little…”
“He overslept this morning, got startled when he saw the ship, kept being anxious even after the Kraken disappeared, and those questions he asked.”
“You were quiet all this time thinking about that?”
“Yeah.”
Nodding at Hamin’s remark, Haeun looked at the sleeping Sihyeon.
“Maybe… Sihyeon already knew about this situation.”
“…….”
“Well, we’ll have to hear it from him to be sure.”
“So hurry up and wake up, Sihyeon!”
Trying to lighten the mood, Haeun shook the bed Sihyeon was lying on. Startled, Hamin smacked him on the back, and Geonwoo straightened the crooked bed.
Watching all of this, Seowoo shifted his gaze to the side.
Haru came into view—biting his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed.
If Sihyeon saw him, he would’ve jumped in shock.
This one’s not normal either.
After that brief judgment, Seowoo frowned. The unpleasant feeling still lingered.
***
Feeling thirsty, Sihyeon opened his eyes—and immediately swallowed his breath when he saw the faces in front of him.
Even before he collapsed, the way they looked at him had been intense. Now, it was worse.
“Sihyeon, you’re awake! I’ll go tell the teachers!”
The only one who seemed the same as usual, Haeun, ran out of the room. As if proving his own thoughts, Sihyeon met Dawoon’s sharp gaze and parted his lips.
But her scolding came faster than his excuse.
“You said you were fine.”
“…I thought I was.”
“You said you were okay.”
“That too.”
“Crazy bastard. You’re not some hero, so why the hell did you jump in there?”
Her low voice was chilling. Sihyeon listened to her for a long while, apologizing again and again.
When she was done, it was Geonwoo’s turn. Dropping into a chair, he spoke briefly and plainly.
“I thought you’d be fine. But I got angry.”
“…Sorry.”
Hearing the short apology, Geonwoo didn’t press further. He simply nodded and stood up.
Then came Haru.
Seeing him approach, Sihyeon almost thought Haru was the one who was hurt. His face was pale, his lips trembling as he tried to speak—it was pitiful, almost heartbreaking to watch.
Each time Haru tried to say something, Sihyeon apologized again, his conscience pricked over and over.
And when Haru finally burst into tears, Sihyeon felt like a criminal.
Only after promising three times that he would never do it again did Haru stop crying. Seeing his reddened eyes made Sihyeon feel even more guilty.
At least Hamin, Haeun, and Seowoo didn’t say much. Haeun and Hamin were one thing, but Seowoo—
Honestly, Sihyeon had expected him to say the most.
The fact that he stayed silent made him even more uneasy.
As Sihyeon kept sneaking glances at Seowoo, the teachers returned after hearing from Haeun. Behind them was a familiar face he had seen a few times before.
“How are you feeling?”
“Other than being hungry, I’m fine. Do you know what time it is?”
“It should be around 2 a.m. Looks like you’re up, sprout.”
Sprout?
He had asked the teacher, but someone else answered. Frowning at Luce, who naturally called him by a strange nickname, Haeun spoke up.
“It’s 2 a.m.—aren’t you all going to sleep?”
“The students still haven’t calmed down. And it’s only been about an hour since you fainted, so it hasn’t been that long!”
Again, someone else answered. Hearing that he had been out for an hour, Sihyeon was startled.
Then—step by step—Luce approached and sat down on the bed.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“With that trauma, you can’t exactly stay on the ship, can you?”
“If it’s hard for you, you can go with Luce-ssi by teleportation, Sihyeon.”
“Ah…”
Only then did Sihyeon understand what they meant. Judging by the situation, Luce had made a generous offer.
“What do you want to do?”
At the teacher’s repeated question, Sihyeon blinked his blue eyes and hesitated. Beside him, Dawoon told him to stop overthinking and just go by teleportation.
He quietly listened—then recalled what had happened right before he collapsed.
He had been fine until he saw the ocean.
So maybe, as long as he didn’t look at it…
But it would be hard not to see the ocean at all while on a ship.
This is exhausting.
He didn’t even know how many times he had apologized because of this damn trauma.
Glancing faintly at the ocean visible through the window, Sihyeon felt his stomach churn again and clenched his fist under the blanket.
One fear was enough.
With that thought, Sihyeon slowly opened his mouth and gave his answer.
“I’ll do my Class Engraving.”
A third option—neither the ship nor teleportation.
