It was hard to believe all of it had happened in just one night. It felt like waking from a whirlwind of a dream. Once they returned to the human realm, the dazzling sights of Seo-cheon, Hallakung-nim and Sala Doryeong, the Cheonrok and the young spirits, even the chaos at Myeongheoseong—it would all start to fade, little by little.
That thought felt… strangely bittersweet.
“…Yeah, it does,” Hae-hyun replied softly, his voice sounding a little downcast.
“So this really is the end, huh.”
“Still, it was fun.”
Jae-ha smiled, forcing a bit of lightness into his voice. Hae-hyun’s shoulders were slumped like he was worn out, and it tugged at Jae-ha’s heart. But Hae-hyun looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“How can you say it was fun? Do you even realize how close you came to dying, sunbae?”
He looked and sounded like a little cop scolding someone, full of seriousness way beyond his years. It was the kind of look you’d give a reckless kid who didn’t know any better. Really now—this little puppy’s getting bold. As that silly thought passed through his mind, a desire he thought he’d buried started to surface again.
If there really was no other choice… If all that was left was to wait for time to pass…
Then couldn’t he at least try—just for the sake of that time?
Even while telling himself it was pointless, he couldn’t stop wanting it. He couldn’t bring himself to let go. The regret clung to him like something sticky and wet, refusing to wash off. He knew this was as good as a rejection already, and yet, he kept glancing back.
He didn’t want to let go of this feeling.
“You were right there with me.”
When he was suddenly dragged to Seo-cheon, when he had to go to the Celestial Realm, when they were searching the fortress, and when things got dangerous—Hae-hyun had been by his side through it all. He’d gone through every step with him.
And it wasn’t just today. When the nightmares wouldn’t let up, when he nearly drowned in the lake, when he faced the vengeful spirit, during the MT, when they were chased by the candle wax figures—Hae-hyun had always come running without hesitation. He would grab him tightly and say, with eyes full of unwavering resolve, “Don’t go. You have to come with me.”
Jae-ha had always drifted like floating moss—going when pushed, stopping when left alone. He never really cared how things unfolded or changed.
Because of that, he’d met a lot of people. And just as many, he’d parted from. Like a dandelion seed blown on the breeze, he’d land gently somewhere for a moment, only to disappear again before anyone noticed.
But that had never bothered him. Wherever he went, someone would always welcome him. Someone would always call his name.
“Maybe that’s why it was even more fun.”
But now, all of a sudden, he wished the one calling his name would be Hae-hyun.
No matter where he went, no matter what he did, he wanted Hae-hyun to be by his side. It felt like Hae-hyun would be the one to keep his feet grounded, to stop him from floating away. Being with Hae-hyun—rather than just anyone—felt infinitely better.
He really, really liked Hae-hyun.
“…I told you it’s not supposed to be fun,” Hae-hyun muttered with a scowl, glancing downward. That confused, clueless expression was just too adorable, and before he knew it, Jae-ha let out a soft laugh.
Maybe… maybe he’d try again.
This time, for real—for Hae-hyun to fall for him.
“Seo Jae-ha.”
At some point, Hallakung-nim had walked ahead and was calling out to him. Jae-ha lifted his head and saw the man beckoning him with a casual wave. Behind him was a small cave.
“This way.”
The inside of the cave was pitch black. Nothing could be seen from the outside. But when Hallakung-nim snapped his fingers, the lanterns hanging along the rocky walls lit up one after another as if they had been waiting for his signal. They followed the narrow path for a while, and then suddenly, the space widened into a round chamber. There must’ve been a hole in the ceiling, because faint light filtered down into the room, casting a soft glow over the air.
There were fewer plants than Jae-ha expected. Unlike the carefully arranged flowerbeds outside, these plants seemed to have grown wild and untamed, sprouting wherever they pleased. Even then, less than ten flowers were in full bloom.
“In Seo-cheon, we have something called Rebirth Flowers.”
Hallakung-nim knelt carefully beside the patch of flowers, brushing his hand lightly over the petals.
The Boneshaping Flower that created bone.
The Fleshweaving Flower that gave flesh.
The Bloodflowing Flower that restored circulation.
The Breathgiving Flower that breathed life.
And finally, the Soulcalling Flower that summoned the soul.
These Rebirth Flowers grew by drinking the waters of Gwangcheon Pond—a hidden spring that lay deep within the purest parts of the human heart. Only the child spirits of Seo-cheon, whose souls were untainted, could draw water from it.
Because the ingredients were so difficult to obtain, Seo-cheon enforced strict control over their export, despite constant pleas from all sides.
“Wait. Couldn’t you have just used one of these to heal Sala Doryeong?”
Jae-ha raised his hand to ask. Hallakung-nim gave a small shake of his head.
“Rebirth Flowers aren’t miracle cures. My father’s injuries weren’t ordinary physical wounds.”
It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. But once a person’s body had been mixed with foreign energy—someone else’s aura, a spell, a curse—the flowers lost all effectiveness.
Even so, they were still incredibly valuable. Countless people suffered injuries even without curses. Requests for Rebirth Flowers never stopped pouring in. And even with Seo-cheon’s strict standards, there was never enough supply to meet the demand.
A few hundred years ago, Hallakung-nim had succeeded in refining the flower breeds. Thanks to that achievement, the four flowers responsible for creating a human body could now be mass-produced. Because of that, the Celestial Realm, the Underworld, the Dragon Palace, and even parts of the human world enjoyed freedom from bodily decay. Seo-cheon’s status soared in turn.
But the fifth flower—the Soulcalling Flower—could not be cultivated without water from Gwangcheon Pond, no matter what they tried.
“These are all the Soulcalling Flowers we have. They’re incredibly rare, but…”
Hallakung-nim reached beneath a fully bloomed flower and—with a soft snap—plucked it from its stem. A small, delicate white blossom fluttered in his hand like an ordinary wildflower.
“Consider it a gift—our gratitude to Seo-cheon’s savior.”
He stepped toward Jae-ha and offered the flower. Jae-ha accepted it, and Hallakung-nim gestured lightly.
“Go ahead. Eat it.”
The Soulcalling Flower would pull the soul back into the body. Once Jae-ha consumed it, the soul lingering in Seo-cheon would be drawn back into his body in the human realm, reviving him as a living human once more.
“Next time, I hope we meet during the day. The flower fields are stunning in the sunlight.”
“…Should I really be coming back here, though?”
Jae-ha replied dryly, and Hallakung-nim chuckled. The expression on his face seemed to say we’ll see, and it gave Jae-ha a chill.
“I’ll follow soon,” Hae-hyun said from behind.
Since he had used a Guardian Talisman to cross into Seo-cheon and still had both his body and soul intact, he only needed to use the talisman again to return. Hearing this, Hallakung-nim clicked his tongue in amazement.
“Most human exorcists are drained after using a talisman once or twice. And yet here you are—using it three, no… four times? You’re not with the Guardian Agency yet, right? I bet the Samjok-o is dying to recruit you.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Hae-hyun shrugged. The Guardian Director had been nagging him monthly to quit school and join full-time, but Hae-hyun had no plans to drop out. The one in a rush was the director—not him.
“Then I suppose we’ll meet again someday.”
It seemed Hallakung-nim had realized that Hae-hyun would eventually join the Agency. He said it with a knowing look. The man had a frighteningly good memory.
And then it happened.
WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FLOWER FIELD—?!
A deafening roar tore through the skies of Seo-cheon. It was so loud that even deep in the cave, the four of them heard it loud and clear.
“Uh-oh. We should hurry. My father… isn’t exactly the merciful type,” Hallakung-nim murmured with a chuckle.
It sounded like Sala Doryeong had just discovered the destruction left behind when Hae-hyun and Su-min first arrived. His shouting was frantic—on the verge of losing his mind.
Hae-hyun clearly wouldn’t leave until he saw Jae-ha off, so they had to send Jae-ha back first. Jae-ha glanced at Hallakung-nim one last time.
“It was fun, but next time, don’t drag people here like that. Please tell the children spirits.”
Hallakung-nim gave a dry chuckle at the half-joking plea.
“I’ll give them a warning.”
Jae-ha brought the flower to his mouth and swallowed it in one bite. The tiny blossom passed down his throat, leaving a cool, tingling sensation behind. Instantly, his vision turned blinding white. Hae-hyun, Hallakung-nim, Cheonrok, and even the mystical cave—all vanished in an instant. Jae-ha slowly closed and opened his eyes.
And the next moment, he was lying in a familiar bed.
Soft, pale light filtered through the curtains. It was the same bed where he woke up every morning.
