A nurse stepped in front of Yi-hyeon as well, and seeing the troubled looks on their faces, it became impossible for him to force the issue any further. In the end, they decided he should first speak with the attending physician. Returning to his hospital room, Yi-hyeon sat down on the bed and tried to organize his thoughts.
The fact that he had returned to his original body meant that Actress Joo Mi-yeon had passed on peacefully.
Then what about Louis?
Had the existence known as Louis disappeared as well?
If that were the case, then from Han Jun’s perspective, it was no different from losing the two most precious beings in his life the moment his birthday passed. Yi-hyeon desperately wanted to go find Han Jun right away and tell him not to be sad—to tell him that his mother had passed on peacefully, and that she had stayed by his side as Louis because she wanted to spend his birthday with him.
But if he heard that… wouldn’t he be devastated instead?
And on top of that, how insane would it sound if some guy he’s not even close to suddenly showed up and told him his mother was a puppy…
The moment his consciousness returned, Yi-hyeon had impulsively wanted to rush straight to Han Jun. But as his rationality gradually settled back in, he realized just how absurd that would seem from Han Jun’s point of view. He had almost blurted out details about a family history Han Jun himself had never even mentioned.
First… I’ll go to school. I’ll go and see what the atmosphere’s like when Han Jun arrives.
At the very least, he reasoned, he’d need to build some level of familiarity before trying to persuade him—only then would there be any trust. With that thought, Yi-hyeon calmed his briefly flaring emotions.
“Did you check Patient Park Soon-ja’s blood pressure?”
“No, she wasn’t in her room, so I haven’t checked yet.”
“Mom, when are you coming? Ugh, I don’t know. I came in because my throat felt bad, and now they want to scan everything. It looks like I’m about to spend a ridiculous amount of money. Did I even have private insurance?”
“Lately, my shoulders have been so stiff, and my lower back…”
What… what is all this?
As Yi-hyeon sat blankly on the hospital bed, unfamiliar conversations suddenly began swirling around his ears. Nurses talking. A patient’s phone call. Even details of medical diagnoses—he could hear everything.
What is this? Why is this happening? Is this… auditory hallucination?
Startled, Yi-hyeon covered his ears with his hands.
The noise dulled down to a faint murmur. When he removed his hands, the sounds came back in sharp, vivid detail. He opened the door and leaned his head out into the hallway, and from that moment on, countless indescribable noises assaulted his ears. On top of that, an overwhelming variety of scents—so many it was dizzying—made his nose sting.
Familiar smells, unfamiliar ones—every single one of them.
T-this is impossible.
Yi-hyeon had experienced these symptoms before.
Back when he had been in the body of a puppy. Yet even after returning to Yoon Yi-hyeon’s body, the sensations hadn’t disappeared. Dizzy, he staggered as vertigo washed over him.
While he stood there in a daze, trying to comprehend the bizarre changes in his body, the doctor in charge of his care arrived.
The doctor asked him various questions. He told Yi-hyeon to mention it if there were any particularly painful or strange symptoms, but Yi-hyeon didn’t tell him about the unbelievable abilities his body had developed.
Determining that there were no remarkable abnormalities, the doctor discharged him two days later. The hospital bill had already been fully paid by an anonymous party, so Yi-hyeon didn’t spend a single won.
Assuming, naturally, that whoever caused the accident had paid for it, Yi-hyeon returned to the orphanage. For a while, he just sat there blankly, like someone who’d lost his mind.
That evening, the day he was discharged, the police officer who had handled Yi-hyeon’s accident visited the orphanage.
“They said there were no traces of alcohol or substances that could cause hallucinations in the perpetrator. We’ll need to investigate further, but… did you happen to see someone dressed in black pass in front of the car at the time of the accident?”
It was ridiculous.
If a person had nearly been hit, someone nearby would’ve screamed. At the time, people had shown an almost disturbing lack of concern for the puppy in danger. Yi-hyeon had assumed it was because Louis’s body was so small they hadn’t noticed—but if it had been a person, it would’ve been a different story.
While Yi-hyeon was lost in thought, the police officer continued.
“The driver says that someone wearing black suddenly crossed in front of the car. He panicked and swerved the wheel.”
There had been people near the crosswalk and on the café terrace, but they were a little distance away from where the accident happened. Yi-hyeon concluded that either the perpetrator was lying to lessen his guilt, or the person in black he’d seen—like Louis—wasn’t an ordinary human being.
“No. Near the car, it was just me and the dog.”
“A dog?”
The officer tilted his head, puzzled.
“A white Pomeranian.”
“I’m sorry. When we checked the CCTV footage, there was no dog visible. We asked you about the person in black because they also didn’t appear on camera—we just wanted to be thorough.”
…Just as I thought. Actress Joo Mi-yeon was being chased by something.
By some kind of existence that didn’t show up on CCTV.
Then why was I the only one who could see her back then? Because I heard her voice? Or because she was connected to Han Jun?
Unable to keep talking about the existence of a dog that some people could see and others couldn’t, Yi-hyeon remained silent.
“From the CCTV, it looks like you bent down to pick something up from the ground. Just as you straightened up, the car mounted the sidewalk. There was no dog.”
“Yes.”
Seeing how Yi-hyeon immediately accepted that the dog he claimed to have seen didn’t appear on CCTV, the officer seemed to assume that he was rambling due to shock from the accident. He let it pass without further comment. Yi-hyeon, for his part, was relieved.
“In any case, the cause of the accident wasn’t drunk driving or drugs. However, since there are signs that could be interpreted as hallucinations, we’ll contact you again once the additional investigation is complete.”
Leaving only those routine words behind, the officer left.
With his emotions tangled and his body weighed down, Yi-hyeon lay back on the bed. The only way these suffocating, trapped feelings might lighten even a little was if he met Han Jun as soon as possible.
Skipping dinner, Yi-hyeon went to bed early, hoping to bring tomorrow faster.
***
On the day he returned to school, Yi-hyeon arrived thirty minutes earlier than usual. The moment he entered the classroom, he checked Han Jun’s seat first. It was still empty, but since Han Jun wasn’t the type to arrive early, Yi-hyeon decided to wait a bit longer.
He hoped—desperately—that Han Jun would have the same relaxed, unhurried expression he always did. If so, then Yi-hyeon could guess that Louis was still by his side.
However, Han Jun still hadn’t appeared by the time first period was about to begin. From that point on, all kinds of thoughts started flooding Yi-hyeon’s mind. What if Louis had disappeared and left him emotionally shattered? Or what if he was wandering around searching for the vanished Louis instead of coming to school?
Ha… this is driving me insane.
Even past lunchtime, Han Jun’s seat remained empty. Slowly, guilt began to take root in a corner of Yi-hyeon’s heart.
Louis disappearing wasn’t his fault. But he couldn’t say there was no connection at all. If he hadn’t fulfilled Actress Joo Mi-yeon’s wish, she wouldn’t have been able to pass on. And if that were the case, he would still be by Han Jun’s side in the form of Louis.
But it’s not like I could throw away my own life. And all I wanted was to deliver the gift actress Joo Mi-yeon worked so hard to prepare, right on time…
Ha. How did things end up like this?
It was just as the bell signaling the start of class rang—at the very moment guilt was fully taking shape—that a student came rushing into the classroom, making a huge commotion.
“Hey, hey! Han Jun got into a traffic accident.”
Yi-hyeon’s heart went cold, as if doused with icy water.
He quickly turned his head toward the student’s seat. The boy was sitting in front of Seo Wonseok. Under normal circumstances, Yi-hyeon would’ve avoided eye contact the moment his gaze met Wonseok’s, knowing he’d be bullied again. But this time, he couldn’t.
He was worried about Han Jun.
Wonseok, who had been leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed, curled his lips into a grin at the news of Han Jun’s accident.
“So? He dead?”
The fact that Wonseok’s first question was whether someone who’d been in an accident had died rubbed Yi-hyeon the wrong way. Glaring at him with disgust, Yi-hyeon clenched his teeth.
“I only heard about the accident from the faculty office, so I don’t know that much.”
Their voices were fairly loud.
One of the kids who’d always tried—and failed—to worm his way into Wonseok’s good graces slunk over with a phone in hand.
“His head’s smashed. I’ve got a video.”
Yi-hyeon’s strength drained away, his muscles going slack as he stared blankly into the air.
“Seriously? You filmed it? Lemme see, lemme see.”
The boy said his older friend had been delivering food on a motorcycle when he saw some lunatic and, out of curiosity, filmed him. The guy had been chasing after a white-furred dog like he was possessed, completely out of his mind.
Then, without slowing down, he crashed into a motorcycle speeding through an alley and was flung aside. Even though his head was cracked open and there was a lot of blood, he didn’t even look at the motorcycle that had hit him and sped off—he just kept chasing after the dog.
At those words, Yi-hyeon curled his trembling hands into tight fists, his whole body shaking.
