“…Is he really okay?”
Honestly, just from the sound of it, you’d think Hae-hyun had nearly killed the guy. With a serious look, Hae-hyun studied the unconscious man, then gave a small nod.
“Yes. The possession only just started, so he didn’t lose much energy. He’ll wake up soon.”
“Possession?”
The unfamiliar word made Jae-ha blink. At that moment, the man lying there let out a groan.
His brow furrowed as he slowly opened his eyes. Spotting Hae-hyun and Jae-ha staring back at him, he looked utterly confused. It made Jae-ha realize just how abnormal that earlier screaming had been. Before the man could ask anything, Hae-hyun cut in quickly.
“You picked something up a few days ago, didn’t you? Burn it. In the incinerator.”
“…What?”
“Nothing good comes from keeping things like that. From now on, stop picking up random stuff.”
Whether the man understood or not, no one could tell. But Hae-hyun acted as if his part was done. He stood, grabbed Jae-ha’s arm—then dropped it immediately, like he’d touched fire.
“……?”
Jae-ha staggered back, shoved away for no reason he could tell. Instead of apologizing, Hae-hyun just stared at his own hand, then at Jae-ha’s arm, back and forth. Just now, something had definitely—
“What’s wrong?”
Only when Jae-ha spoke did Hae-hyun snap out of it and lift his head. His gaze landed squarely on Jae-ha’s bleeding forehead. His brow tightened. Then he seized Jae-ha’s arm again and pulled him forward with quick strides.
“We need to get you to a hospital. Now.”
Dragged along, Jae-ha glanced back awkwardly. The man behind them was only just getting to his feet.
“What if he doesn’t throw it away?”
Maybe because the whole situation felt unreal, it was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Hae-hyun’s reply was flat.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not really the object itself—it was pressing down on his energy, making him more vulnerable to possession. I’ve already purified his body. Nothing serious will happen. Just a few lingering thoughts from the spirit, at most.”
“…Doesn’t that sound not okay?”
“At worst he’ll have a couple nightmares. It won’t kill him.”
The answer was blunt, almost cold. Should I even ask if you’re okay? Jae-ha hesitated. But before he could push further, Hae-hyun suddenly stopped and spun around.
“But is that really what matters right now, sunbae?”
His expression was twisted tight.
“What happened? Why were you even there?”
His sharp tone made Jae-ha frown without thinking, which pulled painfully at the torn skin. A stab of pain near his temple forced a groan out of him. Hae-hyun’s eyes widened, and he fell silent. The air turned awkward.
“I’m fine. I’ve healed quickly since I was a kid. Cuts like this close up fast.”
Jae-ha spoke with an awkward smile, but Hae-hyun’s face stayed rigid, almost frighteningly so.
“Don’t. Just don’t talk. Let’s get you treated.”
His grip was gentle, though—like he was cradling something fragile. Too much blood. Should’ve brought a handkerchief. Senior, don’t you carry one? His voice, muttering low complaints, trembled with worry.
Even as they walked, Hae-hyun kept staring at the wound, as if he could will it to heal. It wasn’t life-threatening—it was just a cut. Jae-ha wanted to say so, to reassure him, but every time he opened his mouth Hae-hyun shut him down, saying not to talk. So Jae-ha stayed quiet all the way to the hospital.
After a quick procedure at the surgical ward, lunchtime was nearly over. When Hae-hyun saw the gauze peeking out beneath the bandage, his face tightened again.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe we should go to the ER.”
The ER? Really…
“We were just treated here. It was just a cut. They stitched it, and said the stitches come out in three days.”
He kept his tone steady to calm him down, but it didn’t seem to work. Hae-hyun still glared at the wound, clearly unsatisfied. As soon as they stepped out of the building, his voice hardened.
“What exactly happened?”
But Jae-ha had his own question.
“That’s what I want to know—why were you there?”
The place had been a lonely corner of campus, where almost no students went. A research building—mostly professors and grad students. Someone like Hae-hyun, from the athletics department, had no reason to be there.
Yet he’d arrived almost exactly when Jae-ha did.
As if he already knew something would happen.
At Jae-ha’s question, Hae-hyun scratched at his eyebrow. His eyes, still faintly creased, kept drifting to Jae-ha’s wound.
“That’s why I told you I couldn’t eat lunch with you.”
He’d been on his way to Jae-ha’s class as usual when he caught a faint chill seeping into the campus. Subtle enough to overlook, but the density of it—thick, foreboding—was something you might not even feel at a hospital or cemetery.
At first he thought to ignore it. But when he thought of Jae-ha, he hesitated. That curse hadn’t gone away, and if this energy made it worse… Uneasy, he abandoned his plan and followed the energy instead.
Hae-hyun hadn’t officially joined the Guardians, but years of rigorous family training had given him power on par with a licensed exorcist. Tracking an aura was nothing to him.
And that trail had led him straight to a bleeding Jae-ha.
“Now tell me. How did you know to be there?”
His tone was clipped, demanding. His eyes locked on Jae-ha’s, though they kept flicking to his wound. Flustered, Jae-ha rushed to explain.
“I’ve been feeling something strange the past few days.”
He quickly summarized—the first odd sensation that had driven him across campus, and today’s events. Surprisingly, Hae-hyun didn’t look that shocked.
“That makes sense.”
Jae-ha asked carefully,
“Does it have anything to do with that curse you said I have?”
“No. That’s been quiet. This is more like… a side effect.”
Hae-hyun glanced at the gash by his brow and sighed.
“What you felt was a spirit’s lingering thought.”
“Lingering thought?”
Another unfamiliar term. When Jae-ha frowned, Hae-hyun explained patiently.
“Yes. It’s the trace a ghost leaves behind—their energy, basically.”
“Wait. I’ve never seen a ghost in my life. And now, suddenly, I can sense them?”
Hae-hyun’s brows pinched. He looked a little awkward.
“That’s… probably because of me.”
Living with him, Jae-ha had been constantly exposed to the concentrated aura of Haetae for over a month. That close proximity had sharpened his senses. Someone who never believed in ghosts could now feel the presence of wandering spirits.
“Still, I’ve never seen someone’s perception develop so much just from being near me. Unless…”
He trailed off, even confusing himself. The way his words petered out made Jae-ha frown, tugging painfully at the stitched gauze.
“Unless what?”
“Anyway.”
But Hae-hyun abruptly changed the subject, his handsome face hardening again.
“If something like that happens, you tell me. Why would you chase it down alone? It’s dangerous. If that umbrella had tipped a little more, you could’ve been seriously injured. Or worse—what if I hadn’t shown up and you were stuck with that guy by yourself?”
…He hadn’t thought of that.
“I mean, it’s not like he’d have killed me…”
Jae-ha muttered sheepishly—typical optimism from someone who’d lived mostly unscathed. Hae-hyun sighed long and heavy. His eyes lingered on the wound, full of worry.
“Do you not trust me?”
“What?”
The unexpected question made Jae-ha blink. Hae-hyun’s face was still set, but his voice carried a hint of doubt.
“You didn’t tell me about the curse. It’s not fading. Did you think having me around was useless?”
He looked like a scolded puppy, sulking. Jae-ha, caught off guard, stepped closer without realizing. He had never thought that—never. He wanted to tell him, to wipe away that defeated look.
“No, no. I just never thought of asking for help. Why would I not trust you? How could I live with someone I didn’t trust?”
“…Really?”
Hae-hyun’s eyes flicked up. Jae-ha nodded firmly, like a man swearing innocence. A short sigh escaped Hae-hyun, brushing Jae-ha’s cheek.
“Don’t ever do that again. I thought my heart was going to stop.”
Carefully, he reached out and brushed near Jae-ha’s forehead. His fingertips hovered, never quite touching the wound, then retreated as though even that scared him.
