His body felt as light as if he were floating on water. Was he asleep, or was he awake? His consciousness was sharp yet hazy, making it impossible to tell.
Even when he opened his eyes, there was nothing to see. Only complete darkness. But he was more familiar with the dark than with the light. Brightness had never suited him.
‘This feels strange.’
He slowly tried to lift his body, but something felt off. He wasn’t sure if he was sitting up or still lying down. Even when he moved again, the sensation remained the same.
Eventually, he gave up and returned to his original position. That same floating feeling, as if drifting on water, settled over him again. He gently closed his eyes, and all sensation faded into the distance.
Perhaps this was a space shaped by his own desire to rest, even just for a moment. From the moment he thought he had lost Seo-yul to the moment he found him again, he had never once allowed himself to rest.
No, it had been far longer than that. Ever since Seo-yul left him eight years ago, he had been consumed by unease, anxiety, and suffering. At some point, he had even found himself praying to a moon he didn’t believe in.
Begging, just for one night, to sleep peacefully. It had been so long since then. His wish had taken years to be granted.
‘Seo-yul hyung should be okay…’
As he lay still, his consciousness sharpened, and thoughts of Seo-yul surfaced. He had been hurt—badly. Had he been treated properly?
He was so precious that he never wanted even a fingertip to be harmed. But when Seo-yul had fallen from the sky like a broken object, he had been covered in wounds.
His tiny, fist-sized face was mottled with deep bruises, and his beautiful eyes were swollen, barely open. The moment he saw him in that wretched state, the ground beneath him collapsed.
His mind clouded with rage, and he had slaughtered those bastards who had hurt Seo-yul in the most brutal way possible. But even that didn’t feel like enough.
They should have suffered more. But humans were so weak—they died too easily.
“Seo-yul hyung…”
He parted his lips and called out to Seo-yul, but his voice only echoed back at him. As his vision cleared, he finally realized—Seo-yul wasn’t here.
The darkness that had always felt familiar suddenly became terrifying. Just like that long night when he had been left alone in the warehouse after Seo-yul had gone. A never-ending fear crept in, swallowing him whole.
‘…I have to go.’
If he didn’t leave now, he felt like he would lose Seo-yul. The time he had mistakenly believed Seo-yul was gone had been even more of a hell than the past eight years. He never wanted to endure that kind of pain again.
He would build a prison to keep Seo-yul from escaping. He would shackle his ankles, collar his neck, and if that wasn’t enough—he would break his legs so he could never walk away.
The thought of Seo-yul being in pain was unbearable, but if it meant keeping him by his side, he would do it. And in the end, he would hold onto a suffering Seo-yul, begging him every day—
Please, don’t leave me.
He pressed strength into his legs and rose to his feet, walking into the darkness. He had no idea whether he was moving forward or backward, but he followed the pull of his instincts.
“Seo-yul hyung.”
He called out to the distant void, and unlike before, something was different. His voice no longer just echoed into emptiness—it felt like it had reached something.
For some reason, he was sure. That was where the exit was.
***
“…Young master! Vincent, young master!”
The loud, ringing voice grated on his ears, making him frown instinctively. He barely managed to lift his heavy eyelids, and the first thing he saw was the tear-streaked face of his aide.
“…Young master?”
The aide blinked in shock, only just realizing he had regained consciousness. As soon as the man grasped reality, he looked like he was about to start crying all over again, so Vincent cut him off before the noise could get worse.
“Too loud…”
His voice was so hoarse it barely even came out, cracking in places from disuse.
He let out a slow, deep breath and tried to sit up, but it was still too much. In the end, he gave up moving entirely, his drowsy eyes blinking lazily.
A strange ceiling, an unfamiliar room. He was still lingering near the district’s borders.
“You almost died this time,” the aide sniffled.
He wasn’t wrong—this time, death had been far too close. If he hadn’t woken up, he really would’ve ended up crossing over alone.
With all the people he had killed in his lifetime, he probably would have gone straight to hell. The thought made a breathy chuckle escape him.
“There were people trying to kill me.”
“We’re investigating, but finding the one behind it will take time,” the aide answered, wiping away his tears.
At least he had enough sense to move fast when it came to situations like this. Vincent let out a quiet scoff and muttered weakly, “I figured as much.”
He had his suspicions, but no solid evidence. And it wasn’t like an assassination squad would leave anything behind that could be traced back to them.
He really should have left one of them alive.
Regret crept in, but even if he could go back, he wouldn’t have had the luxury of thinking about that.
At the time, every second had been about getting to Seo-yul as fast as possible.
The image was still vivid—Seo-yul hanging precariously from that window, just moments from slipping away.
If he had been even a second later, he would have lost him completely.
“Don’t let anyone know I’ve woken up.”
“But…”
“It’s better this way.”
For a moment, he considered spreading a rumor that he had never regained consciousness—that he had died. Unless someone personally came to check at the district’s borders, the people in the estate would have no choice but to believe it.
The absence of the Shining closest to the district leader would change many things. And when that happened, the one who had sent the assassins would surely seize the opportunity and make their move.
That was when he would strike.
“Where’s Seo-yul hyung?”
The aide hesitated, knowing full well that the moment he answered, Vincent would try to move, no matter the cost. But when Vincent pressed him with a sharp gaze, he had no choice but to confess—Seo-yul was in the next room.
“Young master!”
As expected, the moment he heard the answer, Vincent forced himself up, determined to go to the next room. The second his feet touched the floor, his legs nearly gave out, and he would have collapsed if the aide hadn’t caught him.
“You’re the one who needs rest the most right now.”
“Shut up and take me there.”
His ember-colored eyes blazed dangerously. The aide knew that if he refused, Vincent might just snap his neck out of sheer frustration. With no choice, he supported Vincent’s weight and guided him to the next room.
Carrying someone a whole head taller than himself was an absolute nightmare, but the aide couldn’t even complain—he simply groaned under the effort. When they finally reached the door and knocked, the person who greeted them wasn’t Seo-yul, but Yeo-min.
Yeo-min had been about to greet them with a smile, but the moment he saw Vincent, his face twisted with pure displeasure. Vincent wasn’t any happier to see him, and the two locked eyes with thinly veiled hostility.
“…Guess you survived after all.”
Yeo-min’s voice was laced with disappointment, as if he had genuinely hoped Vincent would stay dead.
If Vincent were in better condition, he would have wrung his neck on the spot. But unfortunately, he could barely even stand without the aide’s support.
“Move. I’m here to see Seo-yul hyung.”
He expected Yeo-min to stand his ground, but surprisingly, he stepped aside without protest. Suspicious, Vincent narrowed his eyes but didn’t waste time questioning it. He brushed past Yeo-min and entered the room.
Sunlight poured in, filling the space with a warm glow.
Seo-yul lay quietly on the worn-out bed, completely still. He was so deeply asleep that he didn’t stir even with the faint commotion. His complexion was ghostly pale—so much so that, for a moment, he looked almost lifeless.
Sensing the tension, the aide carefully helped Vincent into a chair beside the bed before promptly shoving Yeo-min out of the room. Yeo-min tried to resist, but the aide was persistent, eventually forcing him outside and shutting the door.
With the intruder gone, the room fell into complete silence.
Vincent sat still, watching Seo-yul intently, and slowly, a soft smile spread across his lips.
“Seo-yul hyung…”
Reaching out cautiously, he grasped the hand resting atop the blanket. The warmth of Seo-yul’s skin grounded him, reassuring him that this wasn’t an illusion.
The moment he had found Seo-yul buried beneath the rubble, his entire world had collapsed.
But now, it was being rebuilt.
Seo-yul was alive. He was still here.
“Thank God…”
Lowering his head, Vincent pressed his cheek against Seo-yul’s hand.
As he closed his eyes, a single tear slipped free, followed by another.
And for a long time, he cried in silence.
