“Helen?”
Choi Yeo-min, who had just returned after tidying up, asked. I shook my head, forcing a change in my somber expression. He shook off his wet hands and glanced around before extending his arm toward me.
“Let’s go back to the room.”
“Just a little longer.”
Using the excuse that there was still coffee left in my mug, I insisted on staying in the dining hall a bit longer. Choi Yeo-min furrowed his straight eyebrows slightly but didn’t say much and simply took a seat across from me.
The room felt suffocating. Even if I wasn’t completely outside, the time spent here in the dining hall was the only moment I could breathe a little easier. Though the coffee in my mug had long since gone cold, I took a long sip.
‘It’s peaceful.’
Helen’s mansion was old and quiet. Since she didn’t employ any servants, it didn’t have the well-kept feel of a typical household, but traces of her presence were scattered throughout.
She had gone through a lot before settling here, abandoning the name of Shining. Still, she had said the memory of her first day away from Shining remained vivid.
—Only outside of Shining could I realize just how beautiful the night truly is.
Her eyes, as she said that, shimmered like stars in the night sky. Of course, stars didn’t exist in this world.
“Hyung.”
I turned my head, and a large hand covered my forehead. As always, Choi Yeo-min sighed deeply after checking my persistent fever.
“Should I go get some medicine?”
“…You know it won’t help.”
“Still, we have to try something—”
He trailed off. Maybe because he realized where this conversation would inevitably lead—to the brand. No matter how much we avoided it, it was a topic we would have to face one day.
Just as Helen had said, we couldn’t stay like this forever.
“Yeo-min, I have something to—”
“I’m going to town.”
Choi Yeo-min stood up and left the dining hall just like that. The words I couldn’t say lingered in my mouth before dissolving into nothing.
I knew I had to go back, but I still couldn’t decide anything. Not about my feelings for him, nor my own emotions—I was too busy avoiding them to face them head-on.
‘What do I even want?’
I took another sip of my now completely cold coffee, then set the mug down on the table. It was so bitter that I couldn’t help but frown.
***
Yeo-min had rushed out of the dining hall, only stopping once he had exited the mansion. He exhaled shakily and leaned his back against the wall. His emotions were plummeting into an abyss, yet the sky was so unbearably clear.
Ever since he learned the cause of Seo-yul’s persistent fever, he hadn’t had a single moment of peace. He had thought that from now on, the only thing left was to stay by Seo-yul’s side. But that wasn’t the case.
—If things continue like this, that child… might die.
Helen’s words from the day Seo-yul was first brought here had lodged themselves deep in his heart, impossible to remove. What exactly was this mark that bound Seo-yul so cruelly to Vincent Shining?
It was as if someone was telling him—forcing him—to believe that the two were destined.
Yeo-min refused to accept it. Even if he had to die, he wouldn’t acknowledge it.
But Seo-yul was growing weaker by the day. Now, he couldn’t even walk on his own. And the only way to save him… was to return him to Vincent Shining.
Seo-yul was all Yeo-min had left. ‘Night,’ the moon of humanity—none of it mattered anymore. If Seo-yul disappeared, if he wasn’t by his side… how was he supposed to endure this emptiness?
‘I’ll buy some medicine.’
There was still a chance. Maybe Helen’s diagnosis was wrong. Maybe Seo-yul was just suffering from a relentless fever. They just hadn’t found the right medicine yet—but there had to be a cure out there somewhere.
He had to believe that.
Back in his room, Yeo-min grabbed some money and got ready to head to town. The sun was already setting, so he had to hurry if he wanted to reach the clinic before it closed.
“Where are you going?”
Helen was waiting for him at the front gate. Startled, Yeo-min came to an abrupt stop before lowering his head instead of answering.
“Medicine won’t help.”
Helen’s voice was firm. No matter how many times she told him that Seo-yul’s illness wasn’t just a simple fever, Yeo-min refused to give up. He kept going out, buying medicine, clinging to hope.
He needed to wake up to reality. But neither of them—neither Seo-yul nor Yeo-min—seemed willing to face it. In the end, she had no choice but to step in. Even if it had only been a month, she had grown attached to them.
“But we don’t know that for sure.”
“No. It doesn’t matter what medicine you give him—he won’t get better.”
“I’ll handle it myself!”
Yeo-min snapped, shouting at her. Helen’s eyes widened briefly before she smoothed out her expression.
He was panting, his breathing ragged from the surge of emotion. He rubbed his face with both hands, trying to steady himself.
“A mark? I refuse to accept that. Hyung wanted to get away from that bastard. He was miserable the entire time he was there. And now you want me to send him back? How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“You’re not refusing to send him back just because you don’t want to, are you?”
Helen’s sharp words made Yeo-min’s shoulders flinch. He lowered the hands that had been covering his face, holding back the tears threatening to spill, and answered honestly.
“No. I don’t want to send him back.”
Helen barely managed to suppress a sigh. She had sensed his feelings ever since they arrived here, but hearing him admit it out loud made it all the more painful.
In the end, Yeo-min had no choice but to let Seo-yul go. If he didn’t, Seo-yul would continue to wither away until there was nothing left of him but an empty shell. Helen knew that was the inevitable outcome.
A mark was both a powerful spell binding two people together and a curse that shackled one to the other. No one could break that bond unless one of them died. How could anyone possibly fight against that?
“Seo-yul has already been marked.”
“No. The mark is nothing more than a rumor. Hardly anyone in Shining even knows about it—there’s no way it could be real.”
Yeo-min denied it desperately. But Helen knew. That stubbornness wouldn’t last long. Still, she figured it was best to let him do everything he could until he reached his breaking point.
That way, at least, he wouldn’t have any regrets.
“Be back before it gets too late.”
Helen pulled open the front gate herself. Yeo-min’s eyes wavered. She gave him a slight nod, urging him to hurry. After bowing briefly, Yeo-min stepped outside.
He ran nonstop past the hill toward the village. The once-bright sky was slowly turning orange. Night was coming, and with it, the rise of the pale white moon.
‘I have to hurry.’
The clinic would close as soon as the sun set. He could always bang on the door and demand medicine, but he didn’t want to disturb the doctor after work hours. If he just moved a little faster, he wouldn’t have to.
As he passed the hill, a small village came into view at the bottom of the slope. Just a little farther. He stopped briefly to catch his breath before sprinting down the hill.
“Hello.”
Fortunately, he made it before the clinic closed. The doctor, who had been in the middle of wrapping up for the day, greeted him with a warm smile. Yeo-min gave a quick bow before pulling the money from his pocket.
“Medicine. Please.”
“I already told you, fever medicine won’t work.”
The doctor, who had been the first to examine Seo-yul’s condition, had said it over and over, but Yeo-min refused to listen. The only reason he had given him fever reducers in the past was because he couldn’t break Yeo-min’s stubbornness—but each time, it ended the same way. No effect.
He had gone out of his way to gather every type of fever medicine he could find, but now, there was nothing left to give. And yet, Yeo-min kept coming back, asking for more.
“The last one didn’t work.”
“Of course it didn’t. Because this isn’t just a fever.”
It was the same conversation, repeating over and over. The doctor could have easily handed him anything just to send him away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
He pitied Yeo-min—this boy who never cared for his own body yet was willing to break himself over that Omega.
“You know, I say this because I care about you like my own son. It’s time to let go. Even Helen said it, didn’t she? This isn’t just a fever.”
“Helen isn’t a doctor.”
There was no one in this village who knew more about Omegas than Helen. And yet, Yeo-min refused to believe her words.
The doctor let out a deep sigh before reluctantly pulling out a fever reducer.
“This is the same medicine you gave me last time.”
“I don’t have a choice. Thanks to you, I’ve gone through every fever reducer in existence. There’s nothing left to give.”
“But—”
“I won’t take your money, so just take it and go. The clinic’s closing now.”
Forcing the medicine into Yeo-min’s hands, the doctor all but shoved him out the door.
The door slammed shut behind him. Yeo-min stood there for a long moment before finally turning back toward Helen’s mansion.
As the sky darkened, the village was slowly swallowed by the night. When he glanced up and saw the moon glowing brightly above him, frustration surged within him.
He clenched his teeth, then hurled the medicine to the ground. Pills scattered from his pocket, rolling uselessly across the dirt.
“Fuck…”
The harder he tried, the clearer the inescapable truth became. Was sending Seo-yul back really the only option? There had to be another way—there had to be—
“Excuse me, may I ask you something?”
The moment he turned at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, something heavy struck him hard in the head.
Yeo-min collapsed without resistance.
“This the one?”
“He’s got black hair, doesn’t he? That means it’s him, right?”
As his consciousness began to fade, he could hear them talking about him.
One of them seemed to hesitate before muttering, “He’s still awake.”
Thud.
Another impact slammed into his skull.
And then—everything went black.
