“I can’t take this mess anymore. I need to at least run the vacuum.”
Lee Han-seo was clinging to Park Woo-jun like a koala, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, yet all he did was talk big. Woo-jun casually twirled his fingers, dug out the sofa that had been buried under a mountain of clothes, and set Han-seo down. The moment he got up to tidy the living room, Han-seo slumped back on the couch and mumbled, “Where are you going? Don’t go.” So much for vacuuming—clearly just an empty threat. Woo-jun found the shameless act both hilarious and endearing and gave the tip of Han-seo’s nose a playful tap.
“Just give me a minute. I’ll do a quick sweep of whatever’s in plain sight.”
“…Sorry. I swear I’ll keep things clean from now on. Pinky promise.”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t dirty—just chaotic. But Han-seo looked around at the mess, his expression growing sheepish all on its own. Woo-jun reached over and tousled his small head, eyes darting around like a nervous turtle, before standing back up. He wanted to refill the empty fridge and switch out the clothes in the closet now that the season had changed, but doing too much at once might just make Han-seo curl up even smaller.
“Just rest, okay? You’ve been cleaning all day. You should take a break.”
Given how terrible Han-seo was at chores, resting was probably the most helpful thing he could do—but Woo-jun, full of love, kept that to himself. After all, Han-seo had already broken a lamp while dusting at Kim Joon-young’s place.
“Mm… yeah, maybe I should.”
Almost like he’d been waiting for permission, Han-seo sprawled out on the couch like a half-dry piece of laundry. Woo-jun hadn’t even asked him to help, but Han-seo was always sneaking glances and tiptoeing around trying to pitch in. He took initiative in so many other areas, but in anything he wasn’t confident in, he acted adorably timid—and that sight always made it hard for Woo-jun to hold back a smile.
Without another word, Woo-jun muttered that Han-seo had worked hard lately, then placed his hands on Han-seo’s legs and started to knead them gently through his pants. Starting from the ankle—small enough to fit in one hand—and up his slender calves, he massaged firmly. Han-seo let out a soft, satisfied sigh, his body completely relaxing under the touch.
“I really don’t think I’m compatible with Kim Joon-young… But those donuts we had today were so good, weren’t they? We should ask him where he got them and go there next weekend. You’re in, right?”
For two people supposedly incompatible, they’d stayed close for a suspiciously long time—but Woo-jun just nodded and listened to Han-seo’s rambling. Even when no one responded, Han-seo kept talking like he was used to it. And as always, his pace gradually slowed… until eventually, silence. When Woo-jun looked down, Han-seo was already out cold, snoring softly.
“Aw, my poor baby must’ve been exhausted.”
Kneeling beside him, Woo-jun quietly gazed at his sleeping face. Only then did the tight tension in his own expression finally ease. Only then did the cracks begin to show. Only then did everything inside him collapse.
“I’m sorry, Han-seo. I’m so, so sorry…”
He whispered it over and over, like a man begging for forgiveness.
“Wh-Who are you…?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you… know me?”
“I do… I know you too well. That’s the problem.”
When that unfamiliar memory first flashed through his mind, he’d thought it was just a vague nightmare. Han-seo, on the verge of tears, reaching out to him with trembling hands—while he, terrified, backed away. That kind of scene… was something that should never, could never exist in Woo-jun’s world.
“Come here. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me…”
But once the dam broke, the memories came flooding in. Scene after bizarre scene forced their way into his mind. A much younger-looking Han-seo appeared repeatedly. At first, he’d cry and scream, demanding to know why Woo-jun didn’t recognize him. Over time, as he grew older, that desperation faded into a kind of quiet resignation. Though even then, the sorrow still shimmered just beneath his eyes, ready to spill at the slightest touch.
He wanted to believe it was all fake. Just a trick of the mind, a hallucination born from stress. He needed to believe that. Because the idea that he, who thought he cherished Han-seo more than anyone, might have been the one to hurt him the most… left a weight on his chest that was hard to bear.
But he couldn’t look away. Woo-jun instinctively recognized what he was seeing and clung to those faint, flickering images. If he didn’t, they’d vanish—just like a fading dream after a restless night.
He’d dug through every report, every document, every scrap of data he could find. But nothing gave him a clear answer. Lost and unsure of what else to do, he’d even considered asking Han-seo directly. As a last resort, in a moment of desperation, he’d reached out to Ryu Ho-yeon.
“I… I hurt you.”
“…Mm.”
“Han-seo, I… I really did.”
“…Mmnn…”
In the end, none of it had been a lie. Every memory he had hoped was a mistake was real. Brutally real. And under the crushing weight of that truth, Park Woo-jun had nowhere left to run.
There had been times when he didn’t understand why Han-seo kept begging to enter dungeons with him. I care about you this much. As long as you don’t get hurt, I don’t care what happens to me. Why can’t you just accept that? Even if he never said it out loud, there had been moments—selfish, thoughtless moments—when he’d resented Han-seo for not yielding.
But now he knew.
That mindset, that supposed affection—it had been nothing but arrogant self-righteousness, wrapped up in love.
Shameless as it was, Park Woo-jun had truly believed—no, convinced himself—that his love and devotion for Lee Han-seo were far greater than anything Han-seo could offer in return.
I’d die for you. That’s how much I love you. So just listen to me. Give in, and do what I say.
He acted like that gave him the moral high ground, as if that made his love somehow nobler—when in reality, it was just deluded, self-serving pride.
“…Mm.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“What day is it? I didn’t wake up too late, did I? You’ve been waiting a while, huh. I’m sorry.”
“……”
“Were you scared because I slept so long? I’m sorry, Han-seo. I must’ve made you worry a lot.”
Over the past five years, Woo-jun had used the Amplifier more times than anyone could count. And yet, not once—not even once—had Han-seo shown a hint of resentment, even when Woo-jun had finally come back to his senses.
He’d just smile—so bright, so open—and throw his arms around him, saying how much he missed him, pretending like nothing was wrong. Just thinking about how many tears must’ve fallen behind that smile… the pain beneath it… made Woo-jun’s heart ache with a deep, bitter sting.
Those soft, hesitant questions—Wouldn’t it be nice if we did missions together? If we did, maybe we wouldn’t have to use the Amplifier so much…—How much pain had he buried just to be able to say that out loud?
“……”
Still fast asleep, Han-seo let out a quiet snore, completely worn out. Woo-jun looked down at him and let the tears fall silently, one heavy drop at a time. He had never hated himself more than he did in that moment.
Why hadn’t Han-seo said anything? If he’d been honest, just once—if he’d confessed—maybe Woo-jun would’ve snapped out of it, let go of his pride just a little earlier. The moment that question surfaced, the answer followed right behind.
Han-seo had known. He’d always known. He knew that Park Woo-jun, who already didn’t think much of himself, would only spiral further into self-hatred once he realized the truth.
Dying for someone? That wasn’t some grand romantic gesture. Not for someone who never valued his own life in the first place. And yet, he acted like he was carrying the weight of some tragic, star-crossed love. Like he was the one making sacrifices. But the truth was, the one holding everything together—their lives, their relationship—had always been Han-seo. Quietly. Relentlessly. And that truth made Woo-jun feel nothing but guilt. Utter, crushing guilt.
“Han-seo…”
Sitting at Han-seo’s side, watching over him as he slept peacefully, Woo-jun made a promise.
“From now on… I’ll listen to everything you say. I won’t question it. Whether I understand it or not… I’ll just do it. Whatever you ask.”
“……”
“I’m sorry I only ever knew how to love like this.”
The arrogant fantasy that he was the one protecting Han-seo—he was done with that now. He wouldn’t even dare dream of such a thing. If Han-seo said he wanted to protect him, then he’d let himself be protected. If Han-seo decided to walk straight into hell, then Park Woo-jun would follow him there without hesitation, right to the very end.
All he had left now was complete, unwavering devotion—body and soul.
***
Choi Jae-won glanced between the two of them with a sour look, clearly unimpressed by how cozy things had gotten.
“Wait, for real? When’s the next volume coming out?”
“I already preordered it. It’ll be out by next week at the latest.”
“Ugh, finally. It’s been forever.”
It wasn’t unusual for Han-seo and Ryu Ho-yeon to launch into conversations that no one else could follow. That had always been a thing. But lately, it had gotten worse—like, a lot worse.
Choi Jae-won sat there like a discarded prop, stiff and awkward, glancing sideways at Park Woo-jun… who, bafflingly, was just sitting there smiling like an idiot.
There was a time when he’d interrupt without fail the moment the conversation got a little too lively. He’d swoop in, break up the flow, and drag Han-seo off before things got out of hand. But lately… something was off.
He seemed dulled, like he’d lost his edge. Like all the fire had gone out of him.
And frankly, that sucked.
Jae-won hadn’t been given the authority to interfere with Ryu Ho-yeon directly. So when Park Woo-jun used to randomly step in and derail everything, it had actually worked out in his favor. Now? Not so much.
Yeah… this new version of Woo-jun was proving to be seriously inconvenient.
