Ha… fuck.
Without realizing it, Jae-ha forgot he was supposed to be pretending to sleep and scowled. The room was pitch dark with the lights out, so Hae-hyun probably didn’t notice—but the feeling pressing down on him was pure despair.
Why the hell is that bastard sulking like that? Why does he make me want to give in?
It was over. The moment he let his heart soften, Jae-ha had already lost. No matter how hard he tried, the second Ju Hae-hyun whimpered a little, he couldn’t hold out. It felt exactly like being a dog owner who knows it’s wrong but still gives in and hands over a treat.
Just this once.
He’d let it slide—just a little. All he had to do was watch a movie with him. Dinner didn’t even count; they always ate together anyway. Still, he figured it’d be better to eat something Hae-hyun liked. Yeah… maybe udon. Even while thrashing in defeat, plans came to him effortlessly. Too easily.
Restless, Jae-ha shut his eyes. His brows stayed knitted tight even as his eyelids fell, and his expression didn’t ease for a long while after sleep took him. But as Hae-hyun shifted a few times in his arms, the scowl slowly faded.
But Jae-ha’s plan never came to pass.
The next day at lunch, Hae-hyun didn’t show up outside his lecture hall.
[Ju Hae-hyun]
Sunbae, sorry, but you’ll have to eat alone today.
“…Hah.”
Jae-ha glared at his phone, utterly dumbfounded. So now he could piss someone off with just one line?
Honestly, Jae-ha hadn’t even wanted to eat lunch with him. And it wasn’t like he’d eat alone just because Hae-hyun wasn’t there. That text—worded as if Hae-hyun was usually doing him the favor of keeping him company—was wrong from start to finish. Feeling played, all of yesterday’s fleeting tenderness vanished. He fumed alone, only for Ji-hyang to suddenly lean in and peek at his screen.
“Oh wow. This time you really got dumped.”
“You gonna keep saying that after I bought you lunch?”
“Oh, right. You did.”
Grinding his teeth at her smug grin, Jae-ha only made her more amused. She showed no sign of dropping it. Acting generous, she offered to eat with her “poor abandoned friend” so he wouldn’t be lonely. Jae-ha opened his mouth to snap back—then froze as a sudden shiver raced down his spine.
“……”
That strange sensation. He’d felt it once before. He stopped short and lifted his head.
“Seo Jae? What’s wrong?”
Instead of answering Ji-hyang, he tracked the direction of the feeling. Outside? His eyes darted around the empty air, and then he spun on his heel. He didn’t forget to toss a quick word back.
“Something came up. Eat without me.”
“What? Is this ‘cause I teased you? You mad? I was kidding!”
Without replying, he just waved and strode toward the stairs, her voice fading quickly behind him. He could explain later. Right now, he had to follow this.
Somehow, he knew he had to.
Thankfully, even as he trailed it, the presence didn’t fade. It was faint but distinct, traces drifting across the campus. Afraid it might turn out to be another dead end like before, he quickened his pace.
He walked and walked until he found himself at the research building—a place he rarely ever went. Today, it looked oddly desolate. He gave it a glance but didn’t go inside, instead circling the outer wall. There was nothing but shade, yet his heart pounded with an instinctive certainty that something bad was about to happen. His sharp gaze swept the deeper shadows.
Around the back of the building, he spotted a small bench. A faint smell of smoke lingered—probably a smoking area.
But the space was empty. Another false lead? He sighed and stepped closer. Even after checking the little butt container, nothing.
But he was sure—he’d felt it. Moving on instinct alone felt surreal, but he couldn’t shake the conviction that he had to find it.
Then, with a blink, the chill returned. It was still there. His head snapped up, following the faint current.
And sure enough, the moment he rounded the corner, he saw someone. Could it be them? At last—he started to run, only to freeze. The scene seared itself into his eyes.
A student sat alone on a bench by the empty wall, lost in their phone. And above them, an umbrella swayed precariously.
At least three stories up, a pale hand—so white it looked untouched by sunlight—extended from a window, holding the umbrella. The motion was light, playful, like a child fooling around, like a carefree wave.
“Hey!”
He shouted, but the student wore headphones and didn’t hear a thing. Jae-ha frowned and rushed forward. At that exact moment, the hand let go.
The umbrella tilted and plummeted.
His eyes widened. Shit—! With no time to think, he grit his teeth and hurled himself forward. The bench rushed closer in an instant.
Startled by the sudden intrusion, the student finally looked up. Their confused expression shifted to shock, lips parting as if to say huh?—but the moment dragged in slow motion.
Jae-ha shoved them aside. The body stumbled hard under the force, the headset flying off with loud music spilling out.
And—thud! The umbrella hit the ground.
“…hff.”
Pain flared at his temple. At the same time, he heard a sharp gasp nearby. He snapped his head up—but beyond the open window, no one was there.
“…You okay?”
He spoke first. The male student stammered, voice shaking.
“Y-yeah! But—what about you? You’re bleeding…”
“I’m bleeding?”
He clicked his tongue. It didn’t hurt much for a direct hit—probably just a graze. He jerked his chin at the umbrella lying a few feet away.
“Someone dropped that on purpose. I’m sure of it. Do you know anyone who would—”
“Sunbae!”
A shout cut him off, followed by pounding footsteps. Turning, he saw Hae-hyun racing over, face pale.
At first he looked only bewildered, but the moment he saw the blood streaking down Jae-ha’s face, his expression hardened. His eyes blazed sharp and dangerous.
“Was it you?”
In a flash, he spun and grabbed the student by the collar. Smaller than Jae-ha, the man was hoisted effortlessly. He stammered, unable to answer properly, until Jae-ha quickly grabbed Hae-hyun’s arm.
“No, no—it wasn’t him. Don’t grab an innocent guy. The umbrella fell from above.”
“It hit you?”
Hae-hyun shoved the man aside and immediately turned back to Jae-ha, inspecting him with urgent hands. He brushed back his bangs, exposing the wound.
“Cut right above your eyebrow. Since it’s on your face, it’s bleeding a lot. We need to get you to a hospital.”
He pulled Jae-ha up, supporting him. The student hesitated, then tapped Jae-ha’s back nervously.
“I-I’ll come too—”
“Wait.”
Suddenly, Hae-hyun grabbed the student’s shoulder and yanked him back hard. The rough motion made him stumble, startling both him and Jae-ha.
But Hae-hyun ignored them. His eyes sharpened, scanning the man.
“It is you.”
At those words, the man’s confused face twisted into a grin that stretched unnaturally wide.
“Guess you caught me?”
His skin warped grotesquely, moving in ways no human face should.
Before Jae-ha could process it, Hae-hyun stepped in front of him, shielding him. Through the half-blocked view of his shoulder, Jae-ha glimpsed golden smoke curling from Hae-hyun’s hand as it reached for the man.
A large hand clamped over the man’s face. The grip tightened, and a metallic screech split the air.
“Ahhh—it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”
The voice was shrill, piercing—nothing like before. The high-pitched screams grated painfully against Jae-ha’s ears.
The man’s wails sounded like those of an eight-year-old child, the dissonance so eerie that Jae-ha flinched and frowned. He shrank back and glanced at Hae-hyun. But Hae-hyun didn’t even flinch, his expression hard with nothing but irritation.
“Shut up.”
“AAAH!”
Spiderweb-like hands clawed desperately at Hae-hyun’s arm, but the more the figure struggled, the stronger the light blazed from his palm. Golden radiance, as bright as the sun, poured over the man’s distorted face.
“It hurts—it huuuurts!”
The voice cracked into a desperate scream—then abruptly cut off as the man went limp. At the same time, the light faded.
Only then did Hae-hyun release his grip, lowering the slack body gently to the ground. Behind him, Jae-ha cautiously leaned forward to see.
