When he sank so deep into despair that it felt impossible to fall any further, only one thought filled his head.
“That I should’ve died with Soh-an hyung.”
“Somin!”
The cruel words spilling from Ryu Somin’s lips finally made Gong Min snap. It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at him.
With trembling eyes, Somin glanced back and forth between Gong Min and Tae Yishin in the other room, then spun around and fled upstairs to his bedroom on the second floor.
Flustered, Gong Min chased after him, but when he saw Somin sobbing so hard his whole body shook, he couldn’t bring himself to reach out. Because over that crying figure, he saw the face of a friend who was no longer in this world.
“…Min, our Somin. Cough… I’m leaving him to you.”
This mansion had once had one more resident—the owner of the room now locked up tight with a padlock. Unlike Han Jigang and Tae Yishin, who always called him by name regardless of age, that boy had always called Gong Min hyung.
Even hot-tempered Han Jigang, sly-faced Tae Yishin whose insides were hopelessly tangled, sickly Ryu Somin who could be prickly from pain, and Gong Min himself, blunt and awkward in relationships… all of them had adored that boy.
When Ryu Soh-an was alive, the mansion was always full of laughter. His bright, sunlike smile had been enough to lift your spirits just by looking at him.
But that boy… died trying to save them.
Even as blood poured from his mouth, soaking his chest red-black, Soh-an forced his trembling lips into a smile. Even in his final moments, those clear, sky-colored eyes never held the slightest trace of resentment.
But whenever he spoke of his little brother, he faltered. He said he was happy to die in his friends’ place, but leaving his sick brother behind was the only thing tying him stubbornly to life.
The bottomless sorrow in his voice had been so heavy it stained even Gong Min’s heart.
“Don’t worry. We’ll look after him—like he was our own brother.”
Gong Min had promised the dying Soh-an. That even after he was gone, they’d treasure and protect Ryu Somin just as he had. That they’d never let him get hurt.
Only then did Soh-an manage a faint, relieved smile. He died with his eyes still open. With trembling hands, Gong Min closed them, repeating that vow over and over in his heart.
And yet… how had it come to this?
Gong Min collapsed to his knees. The vision of Soh-an, whose eyes he had once shut, now stood before him, pouring out a voice heavy with reproach.
***
Han Jigang hadn’t returned yet, still out searching for Kim Minsu. Tae Yishin, after waking from sleep with Nabin in his arms, had left again for the Center at the summons of the Director.
Gong Min stayed frozen in place for a long time, kneeling like a statue, before finally rising and heading to the sea where Ryu Soh-an was buried.
By then the sun had already vanished, the moonlight swallowed up by clouds. Only Nabin and Ryu Somin remained in the mansion.
The door to the room where Nabin lay quietly sleeping creaked open. A shadow slipped inside and stood by the bed, staring down at him for a long while.
The gaze drifted to Nabin’s wrist. Even in the dark, those eyes held no warmth at all. Without hesitation, the figure drew out a sharp, gleaming blade and pressed it to the Butterfly Pendant.
The strange, lifelike glow of the butterfly’s wings crumbled into nothing. At the same moment, a jagged mark, like a fractured scar, appeared between Nabin’s brows as he slept peacefully.
“…If you disappear from this world, everything will go back to the way it should be.”
The intruder was none other than Ryu Somin. His cold eyes lingered on Nabin’s face as it twisted in pain. Then, without a trace of hesitation, he turned and left the room, leaving only faint groans behind.
***
“No… no…!”
Maybe because waking life felt like hell, Nabin often fell into deep, dreamless sleep—except when he first passed through nightmares.
Usually, before sleep, the weight of everything was unbearable. But upon waking, he’d somehow find the strength to endure another day.
Tonight, however, his dream was different. Restless, vivid—everything that had tormented him until now crawled into his dream, clinging to him.
He wandered through a pitch-black space, staggering. With each step, countless faces from his past twisted into nightmares, rushing to devour him.
“Huff… haah…”
He ran, legs heavy and numb, but was eventually caught by Kim Minsu. His appearance was even more grotesque than the night he’d found Nabin on the park bench.
Blood dripped from the gaping socket where his last eye had been. Burn marks scarred his face and body.
“Kim… Nabin…”
Even as his limbs crumbled—legs torn away, arms turning to ash—Minsu clawed forward with stubborn desperation, dragging himself closer with the one arm and leg he had left.
“Get away…”
“Mine… you’re mine…”
A cramp seized Nabin’s leg from running so frantically. Even though it was a dream, the sensations were too sharp, too real—the stench of burning flesh, so vivid he couldn’t tell dream from reality.
His breath tore from him in ragged gasps. He couldn’t just sit there. Shaking, he scrambled backward across the floor, but Minsu only drew closer.
“…Mine. You’re… mine!”
In the end, that one remaining hand clamped down on his ankle, hard enough to crush bone. No matter how he thrashed, Minsu pinned him down and wrapped his fingers around his throat.
Something thick and foul dripped from Minsu’s ruined face, splattering onto Nabin’s skin like grotesque tears.
“Kugh… ngh…”
Only when he was on the brink of suffocation did he wrench free of the nightmare. He bolted upright, gasping for air, scanning the darkness of his room. His trembling hand rose to his throat, where he could still feel the phantom grip.
Was it really just a dream? Even the lightest touch brought sharp pain. His teeth chattered as he shook, eyes darting around the room in terror.
He was alone, yet tonight the room felt suffocatingly ominous. As if Kim Minsu would lunge out from the shadows to finish what the nightmare could not.
By reflex, he reached for the Butterfly Pendant at his wrist—only to flinch at a sudden sting of pain. His gaze dropped.
“Ah… ah…”
A broken sound slipped out of his cracked lips. The butterfly that had always perched there to comfort him… was split in two.
That pendant, which always glowed faintly whenever he woke from nightmares, now lay shattered and lifeless on the bed.
Blood dripped from his hand, cut open by the jagged edge, but he barely noticed. He only stared at the broken remains in shock.
“No… please no…”
The Butterfly wasn’t just jewelry. It held memories from before he was defiled. And maybe, as Kim Su-hyun had said, it really did carry the power to heal even wounds of the spirit. No matter how hard things got, if he held the pendant and fell asleep, he could always wake again with the strength to go on.
“Don’t leave me…”
Frantically, he gathered the shattered fragments into his hands and squeezed tight. The sharp edges bit deep into his flesh, pain spreading through his body—but he only clung harder, as though trying to breathe life back into it, while tears slid down to mingle with his blood.
His consciousness blurred, slipping away like the blood dripping from his hand. He couldn’t close his eyes. If he did, Kim Minsu would come again—this time to take him for good.
He no longer had the strength to run. Even if it was only a dream, if Minsu appeared again, he might just surrender his neck.
With trembling hands, he tried to press the broken halves of the pendant together. He knew it was useless—the Artifact was ruined beyond repair—but like a drowning man grasping at straws, he couldn’t stop. His palms grew so torn and bloodied there wasn’t a spot left uncut.
But the nightmare didn’t end with the shattered pendant.
As Nabin clutched the Butterfly desperately, the sealed door suddenly burst open with a deafening crash.
“…Kim Nabin.”
But Nabin didn’t react. He only kept trying to breathe life into the pendant.
The one who entered was Tae Yishin. The warmth he’d once shown while holding Nabin in his arms was gone. His face was cold, hardened like stone.
