As soon as his master finished speaking, Yeo-min moved swiftly. Though the sky outside was still shrouded in night, time was pressing—he had to carry Seo-yul and get moving.
He needed to reach this person named Helen as soon as possible and find out what was causing Seo-yul’s tormenting fever. If not, it truly felt like Seo-yul might die…
“You’re leaving now?”
His master held him back, suggesting he rest a little since it was still dark outside. Seo-yul was one thing, but Yeo-min himself didn’t look to be in great shape either.
However, Yeo-min politely declined the suggestion. Every passing moment, Seo-yul was inching closer to death—how could he possibly rest easy?
“I appreciate the concern, but I need to leave now. That way, I can meet this ‘Helen’ person as soon as dawn breaks.”
“But in your condition—”
“I’m fine.”
Yeo-min was firm. In the end, his master stopped trying to persuade him, only able to offer a warning not to push himself too hard. He had such a gentle face, yet was impossibly stubborn.
“You’re not going to report this…?”
“I already told you, I have no intention of doing that. Don’t worry and let me go.”
Even after hearing his master’s response, Yeo-min repeated his request not to report anything. Only after extracting a solemn oath sworn upon the Day did he finally feel reassured. Carrying Seo-yul on his back, he stepped out of the clinic.
“It’s going to be rough…”
To reach the mansion in the west, he would have to cross a steep, mountain-like hill. Even traversing it alone was a challenge, but now he had to do it while carrying someone else. In his current condition, it was nearly impossible.
But there was no changing his mind now—his only option was to hope he arrived safely. Watching Yeo-min’s fading silhouette, his master finally returned to bed at dawn to make up for lost sleep.
***
With great effort, he lifted his heavy eyelids.
He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but the deep rest had cleared his mind, leaving him feeling incredibly refreshed. So much so that he thought he might be able to sleep like this forever.
‘Where… am I?’
His blurry eyes scanned his surroundings, and only then did he realize that this was an unfamiliar place.
He should have been in a dark, damp, abandoned house—but instead, he found himself in a spacious and grand room.
‘Choi Yeo-min isn’t here.’
Waking up in an unfamiliar place was disorienting enough, but realizing that Yeo-min—who should have been beside him—was also missing sent a wave of unease through him.
He tried to sit up, but his body was stiff and uncooperative. After struggling for what felt like an eternity, he barely managed to straighten his waist. Taking a brief moment to steady himself, he cautiously placed his feet on the floor.
The instant he tried to walk toward the door, his weakened legs gave out, and he collapsed with a loud thud. His vision wavered violently—he must have hit his head on the way down.
“What the hell…”
Clutching his throbbing head, he attempted to get up on his own, but every time he tried, he crumpled back onto the floor.
‘There’s no way I can stand up on my own.’
In the end, he gave up on trying to rise and instead managed to roll himself over. His entire body ached as if he had been beaten black and blue—he was certain he was covered in bruises.
‘Why the hell am I even here?’
Staring up at the empty ceiling, his mind flooded with thoughts. Where was Yeo-min? How many days had passed? His head filled with unanswered questions, stacking up like an unsolvable puzzle.
Just then, the door creaked open.
‘Who’s there?’
In his current state—unable to even move properly—there was no chance of avoiding an attack if this stranger turned out to be a threat. Maybe he should scream at the top of his lungs? If Yeo-min was anywhere nearby, he would hear and come running.
With his mind racing, he focused on the approaching footsteps. They came to a stop right in front of the bed. He was just about to let out a yell when a familiar voice cut through the air.
“…Hyung?”
“Choi Yeo-min?”
Only after hearing his voice did Yeo-min notice that he wasn’t on the bed, but on the floor. His eyes wavered with confusion, as if silently demanding an explanation for why he was down there.
For a moment, he considered waving to show his relief at seeing him, but this wasn’t exactly the time for that. Instead, he swallowed his embarrassment and quickly asked to be helped up. Snapping out of his daze, Yeo-min rushed forward.
“Are you okay?”
Though his body still ached from the fall, it wasn’t unbearable. He nodded, and only then did Yeo-min let out a sigh of relief.
“Why’d you get up? You should’ve rested more.”
“You weren’t here…”
“Sorry, I just stepped out for a bit.”
With Yeo-min’s support, he was finally back in bed. After all that fuss, he ended up right where he started—he might as well have stayed put in the first place. He secretly regretted even trying.
“What about you? Are you okay?”
“Who’s worrying about who right now?”
Yeo-min let out a small, weary chuckle and rested his forehead against his shoulder. He looked smaller than usual today.
For a second, he thought about reaching up to pat Yeo-min’s back. But in the end, he just let his hand fall back down.
He didn’t want to cross the line he had drawn for no reason. His relationship with Choi Yeo-min had its limits, and it had to stay that way. When emotions weakened, it was easy to waver—just as easy to mistake things for something they weren’t.
“Where is this place?”
“Helen’s house.”
It was the first time he had heard both the name and the location. There were so many questions rushing to his mind that he didn’t even know where to start.
Then, before he could say anything, Yeo-min suddenly threw his arms around him, trembling.
“Hyung, you almost died. Do you know that?”
He was aware that he had been asleep for a long time, but he had no memory of being seriously ill. His last recollection was of struggling to fall asleep before finally closing his eyes.
Still, he could understand at least a fraction of Yeo-min’s fear. Whenever he had fallen gravely ill in the past, Han Jae-hoon had reacted this way, Se-yul had reacted this way, and… he had reacted this way. They had all been terrified that he might die.
“Yeo-min, I—”
“You’re awake?”
A voice he didn’t recognize interrupted him.
Yeo-min, who had been clutching his stiff shoulders, gave him a reassuring pat before turning and bowing politely to the approaching middle-aged woman.
“You’re back.”
“Yes, I was a bit late, wasn’t I?”
The woman’s face radiated kindness—she seemed far from dangerous. Even so, he wasn’t ready to let his guard down just yet. But Yeo-min… he acted as if he was familiar with her.
‘Did they meet in the village?’
Unlike him, who had spent all his time in the abandoned house, Yeo-min had to work, which meant he often went down to the village. Had he met her there?
His expression must have given away his thoughts, because the woman spoke as if answering them directly.
“You don’t need to be wary. You’re safe here.”
He swallowed down the urge to argue. And how exactly am I supposed to believe that?
The woman, now standing right beside him, perched herself on the edge of the bed. Seeing her up close, something felt off.
Her hair and eye color—they were eerily familiar. Faint and mixed with other shades, but unmistakable to him. He had spent too much time around them not to recognize it.
And the subtle scent that drifted from her—his suspicions solidified into certainty.
Could she be…?
“Shining?”
“As expected, you recognized it immediately.”
His gaze immediately snapped to Yeo-min, silently demanding an explanation. Why the hell is a Shining here?
Yeo-min hesitated, looking as if he were about to speak, but before he could, the woman—Shining or not—spoke first.
“My name is Helen. This mansion belongs to me.”
“…Helen?”
“Yes, just Helen. I abandoned the Shining name a long time ago.”
So this was the ‘Helen’ Yeo-min had mentioned earlier.
She reached out toward him. He tried to move away, but his body refused to obey.
The moment her hand made contact, the subtle scent he had noticed earlier grew stronger, making his stomach churn violently.
“Ugh…”
Even after she withdrew her hand, he couldn’t stop dry heaving. Yeo-min rubbed his back, worry evident in his voice.
“Hyung, are you okay?”
“I’m fine—ugh.”
Thankfully, there was nothing in his stomach, so all he expelled was a bit of bile. But the empty, twisting agony in his gut was unbearable.
Now that he was fully aware of it, Helen’s scent was overwhelming—so sickening that he desperately wished she would just leave.
“It seems my suspicion was correct,” Helen murmured, watching his suffering with a knowing expression.
Yeo-min, who had been patting his back, suddenly froze. Then, as if he had just heard the most absurd joke, he let out a dry laugh.
“That’s impossible. That’s just some ridiculous rumor.”
He denied it, but Helen reached for him again—this time unleashing a far stronger wave of pheromones.
The stench hit him like a physical blow, making him double over. His gut twisted violently as if trying to purge itself, and he retched again and again, desperate to get rid of something that wasn’t even there.
Yeo-min’s face turned pale as he shouted for her to stop. The moment his voice rang out, the suffocating pheromones vanished.
Helen approached him with an infuriatingly serene smile and said,
“It’s certain. This child is already marked.”
