“No… Kim Nabin, you can’t die….”
Han Jigang collapsed to the floor, crawling on his knees like a man gone mad, dragging himself toward the bathtub. Blood had overflowed, soaking not just the tiles but his clothes and skin as well.
He’d smelled blood countless times in his life, but this time, the stench soaking into him shattered his mind. His heart caved in, crumbling like water spilling from a cracked vessel.
He carefully lifted Nabin’s frail body from the tub. The faint breath that had lingered was gone. Lifeless eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Jigang remembered that final look—eyes pulling away from him at the very end, filled with resignation, gazing upward as if begging never to see him again.
Please, let me go. All those moments we shared were nothing but pain…
He knew there was no undoing the past, but every memory pierced him like a blade of regret.
He wanted to tear off the arm that had yanked Nabin out of that wrecked car the day they first met. Instead of frowning at his pain, he should have pulled him gently into his arms.
When they reunited at the Center, instead of radiating murderous intent and mocking him after that “insult,” he should have said, Thank you for coming to me. I look forward to being with you.
So what if it was only a swing? Instead of snapping at him for staring, he should have taken his hand and led him over, telling him to ride until it broke if he wanted.
Even during Guiding, when Nabin’s body flinched in pain, Jigang had forced him open for his own satisfaction. Blaming it on reason blurred by sweetness was just an excuse. Never once had he thought of his Guide before himself.
Even when Nabin was accused of hurting Ryu Somin, he hadn’t said, I know you didn’t. I believe you. Instead, trapped in baseless doubts—maybe after his Artifact broke, maybe he lost control—he never once soothed his unease.
After his mother’s death, he hadn’t even comforted him. All he managed to say was, let’s visit the columbarium often. Looking at that calm, tearless face, he’d consoled himself that Nabin was stronger than he thought. He couldn’t forgive himself for that.
Every memory left only one conclusion: he had killed Nabin. It was no different from pushing him off a cliff, demanding why he was still breathing.
He hadn’t even confessed: I really like you. I’ll never hurt you again. No matter what happens, I’ll protect you.
“No….”
But Han Jigang couldn’t let him go like this. He laid Nabin on the floor and pressed frantically against his chest. Every breath he forced into him, he prayed for his chest to rise again, clinging to hope.
But each time his breath stopped, Nabin lay still again. Jigang pressed harder, harder still. A sickening crack ran through his palms as ribs gave way. Terrified that he’d hurt him again, his hands froze.
“…Han Jigang, move.”
Gong Min, dazed until the very end, was the first to snap back. He rushed from the room, grabbing every potion he had stored. Shoving aside the stunned Tae Yishin, he dragged Jigang away from Nabin’s body.
“Let go…!”
Jigang fought back violently, but his frantic CPR was only destroying Nabin further. Gong Min didn’t hesitate, wrenching him off.
His hands fumbled with the potion cap until finally he bit it open with his teeth. He poured the liquid desperately into Nabin’s mouth.
Most of it spilled out helplessly. Trembling, Gong Min pressed his lips to Nabin’s, transferring the potion mouth-to-mouth.
He rubbed the faintly warm skin as he poured in more, but Nabin gave no response. His lips were still warm, but those once-bright eyes were extinguished, their focus gone.
He didn’t know what to do. Foolishly, he poured in every last potion, but with each passing moment, Nabin only withered further, like a flower drying to dust.
“He’s not dead… he couldn’t have left like this….”
Jigang’s anguished sobs tore through the air as he clutched Nabin’s scarred wrist. Tears rolled down Gong Min’s cheeks, dropping onto Nabin’s pale face like a fleeting warmth.
Why had he been so certain Nabin would never give up?
He knew Nabin hadn’t opened his heart to anyone in the mansion. Yet he never looked closely. Because Nabin had endured even his own cruelty, Gong Min assumed he’d survive his mother’s death too.
Or maybe… he’d fooled himself. Those clear gazes that lingered on him, the body clinging when Guiding grew too much, the quiet grip on his arm whenever someone else approached—he told himself it meant Nabin was relying on him.
He deserved to be called the greatest fool alive. While Nabin was secretly preparing to end it all, he thought stopping Yishin was enough. Even when Jigang’s worry bordered on obsession, Gong Min dismissed it as needless.
Never once had he been a safe haven for Nabin. From their first meeting to his last breath, all he gave was pain—so much pain that death itself might have seemed merciful.
With trembling hands, he stroked the cooling face again and again. Only now, after losing him, did the truth crush him: Nabin hadn’t chosen death. Jigang, Yishin, and Gong Min had driven him here.
When Ryu Somin drank poison and fell into a coma, Gong Min too stepped back, distancing himself. He hadn’t shielded Nabin like Jigang, nor accused him like Yishin—he’d just stood by, a spectator.
Even after the Butterfly Pendant shattered and Nabin’s anxiety spiked, he fled instead of staying. He didn’t say a single word of comfort.
He was a coward. A hypocrite. Why had it been so hard to speak? Fearing Nabin’s reaction, he took the easy path.
He might as well have put the knife in Nabin’s hand himself. No matter how many times he lay with him, in the end it was only his own desire he chased, wounding Nabin each time.
And he had known. Every time their skin touched, Nabin trembled in fear, in pain. He knew—and still, he didn’t stop.
He thought it was fine. He believed, stupidly, that handing him a Healing Potion after would fix it, that if the wounds disappeared, everything was solved.
But now, looking down at that pale, bloodless face, his heart felt ripped apart. Nabin’s porcelain skin, once so white, now looked emptier than a lifeless doll.
Only after losing him did the truth choke him.
Even in death, Nabin’s eyes lingered on the Butterfly Pendant, as if it were his only companion to the end. Gong Min realized he had been less to him than even that trinket.
Even that lifeless Artifact had given itself until its mana burned out, protecting him so his heart wouldn’t shatter completely. Gong Min, consumed by selfishness, had abandoned him.
The mission hadn’t mattered. Punishment would’ve been nothing. He regretted leaving Nabin alone in that mansion. When Jigang, unable to bear his unease, installed a surveillance Artifact in Nabin’s room, Gong Min should have stayed by his side instead of looking away.
“…Ah.”
He pulled Nabin’s cooling face into his arms. If he could turn back time—to the day they first met, or even before his life began to unravel—he would have made him happy.
If only he could see that radiant smile he’d never once shown… the thought alone crushed him with regret so deep he would have gladly let his own life shatter.
***
The three of them remained beside Nabin’s body, drowning in grief, their gazes fixed on the past. And in that blind spot of their vision, the butterfly-shaped pendant flickered faintly with a strange light.
The violet glow, quivering as it had before it broke, seeped into Nabin as if it were alive.
!!!!!