Fortunately, nothing like “When I opened my eyes, I was in an unfamiliar world…” happened. The ceiling that came into view wasn’t unfamiliar, after all.
Sihyeon pushed himself up, his body feeling heavy, and grabbed his head as it rang sharply. The moment he sat up, dizziness rushed in, bringing a heavy wave of vertigo that made his vision spin.
What… happened?
With his eyes closed, he retraced his steps before collapsing. He remembered finishing the evaluation and falling into the sinkhole with Hamin. He remembered seeing the suspicious altar and the murals there, and going down the stairs again.
And then… they saw the massive door—
“Ugh!”
His mind lurched violently. A sharp headache struck, and Sihyeon groaned, frowning. Everything after seeing the door was pitch black, like ink spilled over his memory. No matter how hard he tried to recall it, only pain came, as if his body was forcing him not to remember.
Did he hit his head on the ground? He felt around for a bump, but his head was smooth and round as usual. Looking around, he inhaled—the faint scent of medicine and clean air reached him.
The infirmary.
His pale hand brushed over the soft bedsheet. He had lain on this bed once before. The only difference now was that no one was watching over him.
Turning his head, he looked out the window. The sky was bright.
“…That’s strange.”
His voice settled into the silence of the infirmary. Normally, there would’ve been the Principal worrying over him or the Class A students flooding him with relentless nagging. But this time, no one was there.
For a moment, he wondered if he had ended up in a parallel world. After all, if he could transmigrate into a novel, a parallel world didn’t seem impossible. But he soon shook his head. The mana he felt in his body hadn’t changed—jumping to conclusions would be premature.
After debating whether to go out or wait, he chose to get up. As soon as his feet touched the ground, dizziness hit again, and he leaned his head against the wall. Waiting for it to subside, he slowly began to walk.
His steps carried him out of the recovery room toward the door. Just as he grabbed the cold metal handle to turn it—
Bang!
The door swung open.
Still holding the handle, Sihyeon stumbled forward, dragged along with it. His body, which had grown thinner again, collapsed straight into someone’s arms.
He looked up.
“You’re awake?”
Clear, gentle eyes tinged with unmistakable concern looked down at him.
Yoo Seowoo.
“…Yoo Seowoo?”
“Yeah, Sihyeon.”
At his dazed call, Seowoo answered without hesitation. Sihyeon straightened himself and pushed him away. Even with his weak strength, Seowoo stepped back without resistance, releasing the handle.
“Where are the others?”
“Still at the cafeteria.”
“What time is it?”
“About 6:30 now. It’s been half a day—are you feeling okay?”
“Better than last time.”
Last time, he had woken up to a new day entirely—this was better than that. Nodding at the question, Sihyeon studied Seowoo’s calm expression. His gaze was steady, as if he had no intention of saying anything else.
“When we came back from the evaluation, you were being carried by Hamin. I was pretty surprised.”
So it wasn’t his imagination.
Though Seowoo spoke gently, his eyes weren’t smiling. His lips clearly curved upward, but something about it felt off. Just as Sihyeon wondered if that, too, was his imagination—
Seowoo smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly.
That meaningless smile somehow felt even more suggestive.
“So, what kind of reckless thing did you do this time?”
“I didn’t do much. Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Don’t change the subject, Sihyeon.”
“…….”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.
What worked on Hamin didn’t work on Seowoo. For a moment, Sihyeon almost missed how simple Hamin was.
Feeling awkward, he raised a hand to the back of his neck—then winced at a sharp sting. As he frowned, Seowoo’s cooler hand slipped beneath his, brushing against his skin. His fingers traced the tender spot, and the sting flared again.
“You’re hurt too.”
His low voice murmured softly.
It hadn’t been there before he collapsed. Sihyeon brushed Seowoo’s hand away and pressed the spot himself. When he pulled back, red stained his fingertips—blood, even if only a little.
“…I think I got it when I fell.”
He hadn’t noticed it before touching it. Or maybe he had just been too out of it after waking up to pay attention to minor pain. He casually wiped the blood on his clothes.
The gaze on him seemed to grow heavier.
“I don’t like it when you get hurt somewhere I can’t see.”
“What are you even saying?”
That line was so cringeworthy it made his skin crawl—like something out of a romance novel. Sihyeon recoiled, taking a step back.
Seowoo, meanwhile, looked past him and walked into the infirmary. Sihyeon’s gaze followed him. Without hesitation, Seowoo sat in the teacher’s chair and tapped the chair in front of him.
Sit.
“…There’s no infirmary teacher.”
“If they’re not here, that doesn’t mean we can’t treat it.”
He tapped the chair again.
Now Sihyeon had no excuse to refuse. Sitting down reluctantly, he watched as Seowoo found a bandage and ointment. Then Seowoo tilted his head.
Their eyes met.
After staring blankly for a moment, Sihyeon finally realized what he meant and tilted his head as well.
Slender fingers touched his neck. His slightly overgrown hair brushed his nape before Seowoo gently moved it aside and applied ointment. The sting made Sihyeon’s shoulders twitch.
Seowoo let out a soft, amused laugh.
“I can do it myself.”
“You can’t see it. And I want to do it.”
Saying that, Seowoo leaned in close. His hand pressed against the wound, and soon a bandage was placed over it. He pressed it down firmly so it wouldn’t fall off, making Sihyeon shrink slightly.
The pressure suddenly increased.
“Ugh.”
The hand pressing the bandage slid upward, brushing along the back of his neck. When it reached near his spine—
Sihyeon grabbed his wrist.
Looking straight at him, he saw Seowoo meet his gaze—yet his hand kept moving, as if ignoring him entirely. His fingers traced from the neck to the shoulder, then returned to the nape.
“That’s enough now.”
Uncomfortable with the contact, Sihyeon pulled back. Seowoo lowered his hand, then looked at the fingers that had just been touching Sihyeon’s neck before lifting his head.
“I want to see your mark.”
“What?”
“I’ve never really looked at it closely before. I want to see it now.”
“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”
“I treated you, didn’t I? Hmm?”
You just wanted to.
The retort rose in his throat but never came out.
Seowoo suddenly stood and placed his hands on the desk behind Sihyeon, trapping him between his arms. Caught off guard, Sihyeon looked up at him with an uneasy expression.
Those pale platinum eyes gleamed with persistence.
Sihyeon knew very well—through experience—just how stubborn Seowoo could be when he looked like this.
“Fine, just move your face back.”
Pushing Seowoo’s chin away with his palm, Sihyeon turned his chair and showed his back. Tilting his head forward, he lifted his hair slightly.
He could feel Seowoo’s gaze tracing along his neck.
What am I even doing…
A strange sense of self-consciousness crept in.
“Done?”
“Well…”
Instead of answering, Seowoo reached out and touched the glowing blue mark. Sihyeon flinched, shoulders rising as he frowned and whipped his head around.
“You said you’d just look.”
“I said I wanted to see it. I never said I wouldn’t touch.”
“Turn back around.”
Before Sihyeon could argue, Seowoo spun the chair. Without a backrest, Sihyeon wobbled and helplessly turned again, exposing his neck once more.
Ignoring his protest entirely, Seowoo traced over the mark again.
For some reason, it felt embarrassingly intimate.
Unnecessarily strange. Unnecessarily awkward.
“Sihyeon, do you remember what I said about the pairing showing your heart rate too?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Just… curious.”
Press.
Something soft and warm briefly touched the skin over his mark. Hot breath contrasted against the coolness of Seowoo’s hand.
Startled, Sihyeon jumped to his feet—
Crash!
The chair toppled loudly, breaking the subtle silence.
“…Just now—”
“Did it get a little faster?”
You crazy bastard.
Sihyeon glared at Seowoo, his eyes sharp. Seowoo smiled as if on display.
Faster? If anything, it felt like the temperature had dropped to -10°C in the middle of summer.
“Don’t take your jokes too far.”
Irritated, Sihyeon covered his mark protectively with his hand and walked toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, he heard loud chatter from the other side.
A bad feeling crept in. Sihyeon instinctively stepped back.
The door opened. Familiar faces poured in one after another.
“What, you’re up?”
“Sihyeon!”
“…I heard you collapsed, but you look fine.”
Starting with Hamin—and even Dawoon, whom he hadn’t seen properly in weeks—Class A filled the infirmary in an instant, turning the quiet space noisy.
The moment Ban Haru made eye contact with him, he rushed over, scanning him up and down before grabbing his wrist. Noticing the bandage on his neck, he frowned.
“You’re hurt?”
“Ah, I’m okay now.”
It wasn’t a serious injury. Trying not to worry him, Sihyeon covered the bandage as he spoke. Haru lifted his hand as if to remove it, then let it drop with a sigh.
For a moment, it almost felt like his ears had drooped.
“Are you okay?”
“Does anything hurt?”
“Why did you collapse again?”
“What happened this time?”
Questions poured down like a waterfall—varied, yet exhausting. His head spun.
Just as he was about to say he was fine, Hamin, who had been facing the infirmary door, tilted his head.
“What, where are you going?”
“What? No, no! Sihyeon, sit down and rest!”
At Hamin’s words, Kang Haeun overreacted and dragged him back into the chair he had just kicked over.
Sihyeon stared at him in disbelief, then glanced around.
The headache that had subsided began to return.
“So where does it hurt?”
“Are you really okay?”
“Why do you keep collapsing?”
“What happened this time?”
Buzzing filled his head.
Trying to escape, Sihyeon’s gaze drifted—and landed on a paper posted on the wall leading into the recovery room.
Silence. Absolute Rest.
The two words were written in bold.
Apparently, none of them understood what absolute rest meant.
