The next day, the bright lights of the interview hall made Gyeonwoo's face glimmer with quiet confidence. Cameras pointed at him, interviewers smiling politely as they fired questions.
"You're the gold medalist in archery. You've already made your dream a reality. How does it feel?"
Gyeonwoo straightened, the corners of his lips tugging into a faint smile.
"It feels like I've finally reached the dream I was chasing. But… more than the gold, I'm proud of the path that brought me here."
One of the interviewers leaned forward. "And what about your personal life? Do you have a first love?"
For a second, his heart clenched. But his voice didn't falter.
"Yes. I do." His eyes lowered, then rose again with quiet fire. "And I'm proud of that, too."
The interviewer smiled slyly. "If you had to choose between your first love and your dream… what would you choose?"
The silence hung heavy. Gyeonwoo looked down at his hands, then spoke firmly:
"My first love."
The room shifted—some surprised chuckles, some nods of admiration. But his gaze never wavered.
---
Later that evening, Jiho sat waiting in their room, flipping through a book. When Gyeonwoo walked in, Jiho looked up.
"You're back," Jiho said softly.
Gyeonwoo nodded, brushing past without a word. Jiho's eyes lingered on him but didn't push further.
That night, Gyeonwoo made his way to Seong-ah's house. The familiar scent of the courtyard herbs greeted him. Her grandmother came forward, her eyes filled with both warmth and a quiet burden.
"Gyeonwoo-ah… keep this." She placed the lipcare stick into his palm—the same one Seong-ah had once pressed into his hand.
"She trusted you with it once. So you should hold onto it."
Before he could respond, another presence cut into the moment. Yeomhwa leaned against the doorway, her eyes glinting with amusement.
"What a shame," she said, tilting her head. "If this were the Joseon period, the king would have built a monument for your devotion. But what use is it now? You're just a man."
Gyeonwoo exhaled sharply. "Good to see you haven't changed at all."
Yeomhwa chuckled, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "Oh, so you're being sarcastic now?"
"You started it."
Her smile sharpened. "Do you have any dreams left, Gyeonwoo?"
"No," he said firmly.
Her eyes narrowed. "There was a slight gap before you answered. Suspicious."
He glared. "You said once… if Seong-ah appears in my dreams, that means she's dead."
"Yes," she answered casually. "And if that happens, we'll collect her body immediately and cleanse the area."
"And if she's alive?" he asked, his fists tightening.
Yeomhwa smirked. "Then if you see her in a dream—if she's running—you should run, too. Don't look back. Just call me."
"What if I don't want to call you?" His tone was ice.
Her eyes glimmered with mischief. "Then don't. But remember—your silence won't change what's coming. You'll meet your grandmother soon enough."
His jaw locked, teeth grinding.
---
That night, Jiho cooked pork in the kitchen, the sizzling filling the room with warmth.
"Oh, you came," Jiho said when Gyeonwoo stepped in.
"Yeah."
"Do you want to eat?"
"No."
"But this is spicy fried pork…" Jiho coaxed gently, though his voice trailed when Gyeonwoo just passed him by.
Gyeonwoo entered his room and collapsed onto the mattress, Yeomhwa's words echoing in his head:
"If Seong-ah appears in your dreams… ask her where she is."
His gaze drifted to the lipcare stick lying on the table. His hand clenched around it.
"…What I didn't tell Yeomhwa is that… I've already been dreaming."
---
In the Dream
He found himself walking down the corridor of a school, the faint light of dusk glowing through the windows. His footsteps echoed softly as he entered the classroom.
On the wall beside the board hung a motto: "Let's run into four years."
His eyes softened. "Jiho and I… are in the same class here, aren't we?"
He passed Jiho's desk, his gaze falling to the neatly placed bag, then slowly drifted toward Seong-ah's seat. Her small pouch rested there, exactly as he remembered.
"How are you?" he murmured, almost to himself, his fingers brushing the edge of her desk.
He slid into her seat, tilting his head toward the board. "What would the view look like from here?"
A small smile crept onto his lips when his eyes landed on the blackboard—where a serene house, nestled among mountains, had been drawn in chalk.
"Wow… what a beautiful drawing."
But behind him, something stirred.
A faint creak.
The cupboard at the back of the classroom rattled, as if something inside shifted. A whisper slithered into the silence, too faint to understand.
Gyeonwoo froze. His body stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward the sound.
The dream was no longer peaceful.
Something—someone—was waiting in the dark of that cupboard.
"Yah, Gyeonwoo—wake up already," Jiho said, half-teasing, half-scolding as he leaned against the doorframe. "Are you a newborn or something? Sleeping this early like you've never seen the night before."
Gyeonwoo rubbed his eyes, still heavy from the strange dream. His voice was hoarse as he asked quietly, "Jiho… did you ever get a dream where it feels like it's not even yours?"
Jiho raised a brow. "Huh? What are you even saying?"
"Like… as if you're inside someone else's dream. You're seeing things, hearing things, but it doesn't belong to you," Gyeonwoo explained, his words firm, like he was holding on to something that would otherwise slip away.
Jiho chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at you. My dear best friend climbing up to the heights of nonsense again."
"It's not nonsense," Gyeonwoo snapped back, his eyes intense now. "I've been dreaming of Seong Ah. But it isn't like she's really there with me. It's like… I'm in her dream, but she's missing from it."
That made Jiho pause. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment his joking expression faltered. He didn't know how to answer, so he turned away, pretending to busy himself with the pan still sizzling on the stove.
---
Meanwhile, inside the dream—
The classroom door creaked. When Gyeonwoo's presence faded away from the dream, the cupboard in the corner rattled softly. From within its shadows, two figures stepped out. Seong Ah, dressed neatly in a school uniform, brushed the chalk dust from her skirt. Beside her was Bongsu, also in uniform, his posture casual but his gaze sharp.
"Why are you hiding from him?" Bongsu asked, tilting his head as he glanced at her. His tone was somewhere between confusion and annoyance.
Seong Ah's eyes dropped to the floor, her voice low. "Because… I don't want to hurt him."
Bongsu's lips curved into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Hurt him? In a dream? What could you possibly do to hurt him here?" He stepped closer, his eyes glinting with a strange light. "In a dream, you can do whatever you want. And if it ever came down to hurting him… I'd be the one to do it, not you."
Her heart clenched at his words. He had shifted then—his voice deepening, his features twisting ever so slightly until it was Gyeonwoo's face looking back at her, but with Bongsu's tone lacing every word.
"You see," Bongsu continued, speaking through Gyeonwoo's image, "Jiho and Gyeonwoo are living together now, aren't they? They've grown close. Very close."
Seong Ah's fingers tightened around her chalk as she turned away. "So what if they're close?" she murmured. "That doesn't change anything."
Bongsu leaned against the desk, folding his arms. "It matters, doesn't it? To you. Watching them live side by side, while you can't even reveal yourself."
Seong Ah sat down on the bench she always favored. Bongsu followed her with his eyes, narrowing them.
"Why are you sitting there?" he asked sharply. "Because Gyeonwoo sat there a moment ago? Hah. What a weirdo thing to do."
Seong Ah's lips curved into a small, sad smile. She pressed her palms against the desk. "The seat's still warm," she whispered. Then, more softly, "Seeing him from far away, from time to time… that's enough for me. More than enough."
Her words seemed to strike something in Bongsu, though he didn't show it. Instead, he glanced toward the front of the classroom, where the blackboard stood half-covered in a chalk drawing—a little house surrounded by trees, incomplete but beautiful.
"Did you draw that?" Seong Ah asked suddenly, pointing at it.
Bongsu blinked. "…You were the one drawing it earlier," he said calmly.
Seong Ah looked down at her blazer sleeve and noticed the faint dusting of chalk still clinging to the fabric. Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh… that's right." A faint laugh escaped her lips. "I forgot."
She stood up, chalk between her fingers now. "Then I should finish it."
With quiet determination, she walked to the board and began sketching, adding careful lines, soft shading, bringing the little dream-house to life.
Bongsu leaned back in the desk, watching her with unreadable eyes. Her movements were gentle, yet deliberate, as though each line she drew on the board was tethered to her heart.
And as the chalk scraped softly against the board, the dream thickened—like it was watching her as much as she was drawing inside it.
Meanwhile, in the dimly lit room, Jiho sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at his friend who looked more restless than ever. The clock ticked faintly in the silence between them.
"How do you even know," Jiho finally asked, his tone skeptical but not entirely dismissive, "that you're in someone else's dream? And how are you so sure Seong Ah isn't in it?"
Gyeonwoo leaned back against the wall, his hands buried in his hair. His eyes were shadowed, troubled, yet strangely certain. "I just… do," he whispered. "I just feel it. It's not mine. Every time I close my eyes, I'm pulled into a place that doesn't belong to me."
Jiho frowned, leaning closer. "That's ridiculous."
But Gyeonwoo's gaze hardened. "No. It's real. And… there was this seaside. It looked… familiar." His voice dropped lower, almost to himself. "So familiar that it haunts me."
Jiho raised a brow. "A seaside? In someone else's dream?" He gave a short laugh, but it didn't mask the unease creeping into his tone. "Are you seriously saying you recognize places inside someone else's mind?"
"Yes," Gyeonwoo said firmly. His fists clenched. "I've seen it before. I know I've been there."
Jiho opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly Gyeonwoo's eyes grew distant—like the walls of the small room had fallen away and another world was bleeding into view.
The sound of waves roared softly in his ears.
The vision sharpened, painting itself before him with startling clarity: a secluded chamber house standing tall on a cliff, surrounded by the endless sweep of the sea. The salty breeze carried the cries of distant gulls, while thick trees curled protectively around the structure like silent sentinels. The waves below struck the rocks in a rhythm, each crash echoing through the dream like a heartbeat.
The place felt ancient, sacred, and heavy with secrets.
"The Do Ryeong Chamber House…" Gyeonwoo breathed, his voice trembling as he named it. The words escaped as though he'd known them forever, buried in the back of his memory.
Jiho straightened, staring at him. "What did you just say?"
"The chamber house," Gyeonwoo whispered again, his gaze locked on the vision only he could see. "Surrounded by sea and trees. I've been there. I know I've been there."
And for a fleeting moment, Jiho swore he could hear the faint sound of waves too, though no sea existed anywhere near their small city apartment.
Meanwhile, in the dim chamber lit by wavering candle flames, Do Ryeong sat slouched on a low wooden chair, his hand covering his face in exasperation. The faint sound of the sea beyond the walls echoed like a reminder of old curses that never truly vanished.
With a long sigh, he muttered, "Do you want me to curse him? That's what you came here for?" His voice carried a weight, as though he had heard such reckless requests far too often.
Across from him, the figure of Seong Ah sat unnaturally still—except for her lips, which curled into a sly smirk that wasn't her own. A bubblegum-pink glow shimmered faintly as her lips parted, and the voice that slipped out was unmistakably not hers.
"I can make amulets strong enough to bind mountains," Do Ryeong continued, lowering his hand, "but this—what you're asking—" he gestured sharply, "is foolishness."
Seong Ah's straight dark-brown hair tumbled over her shoulders, catching the flickering candlelight. Heavy makeup shadowed her delicate features, giving her face a strangely theatrical beauty. The smirk widened as Bongsu's mocking tone filled the room through her mouth.
"See the guts in him? I hate his guts. You, Do Ryeong, you're powerful. I know you are. You can do it."
Do Ryeong's brow twitched, irritation clear as he muttered, "Even if I could curse him, why should I? Your petty hatred isn't worth the weaving of such power."
Bongsu scoffed, tossing Seong Ah's head to the side dramatically. "Hah! Don't underestimate me. Even I could curse him, and he'd die before dawn." The words dripped with arrogance, like a child bragging about breaking toys.
Do Ryeong exhaled heavily, pressing his palm to his face again. "Heaven help me…" He lowered his hand to glare at the possessed girl. "By the way—why are you here? Where is the Heaven-and-Earth fairy? Isn't she the one who meddles in such things? Not… you."
Bongsu's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, then returned sharper. "Tch. I knew you wouldn't help him. Useless." He flicked Seong Ah's fingers dismissively, making her body move sassily, every gesture exaggerated. "Darn it, what a waste of my time."
"Already leaving?" Do Ryeong asked dryly, leaning his cheek against his palm. "That's it?"
"I've been here long enough," Bongsu snapped, rolling her eyes. "Any longer and I'll start smelling like your dust-ridden chamber."
Do Ryeong raised a brow, amusement flickering faintly in his weary gaze. "Do you want to die so early, then? Keep this path, and your arrogance will drag you under."
"Arrogance?" Bongsu barked a laugh, cruel and hollow. "You think I'm afraid of death? You've grown dull since last we met." His tone sharpened, laced with venom. "And you've grown uglier too. Just look at yourself—an old, useless duck rotting in this ugly nest."
Do Ryeong didn't flinch at the insult. He only sighed again, closing his eyes as though the weight of centuries pressed down on him. "Still the same brat as ever," he murmured. "Crossing over when you shouldn't… meddling in places you don't belong. You'll regret it."
But Bongsu only sneered, slamming Seong Ah's palm on the table as if to punctuate his disdain. "Regret? That's for the weak. I came to see you only because I thought you might be worth something. Turns out—you're just a waste."
For a moment, silence filled the chamber—thick, tense, broken only by the sound of waves crashing against the rocks outside.
Do Ryeong's eyes opened again, sharp and glinting. He leaned forward, his voice calm but heavy with a hidden threat. "You talk too much, child. Be careful… even a waste can still bury a brat."
Bongsu clicked his tongue through Seong Ah's lips, but for the first time, he didn't respond immediately.
"You are so annoying," Bongsu spat, venom lacing Seong Ah's lips as her body leaned forward aggressively. Her voice cracked like a whip, mocking, sneering.
Do Ryeong didn't answer immediately. He rose slowly from his seat, his dark robes sweeping against the stone floor. The air shifted as he reached for a bundle of old amulets hanging on the wall. His fingers curled around them, and a faint hum of spiritual energy filled the chamber.
"Annoying or not, I don't have time for your childishness," he muttered, slipping the amulets into his wide sleeves. His movements were precise, deliberate—like a man who had done this countless times before.
Bongsu smirked through Seong Ah's painted lips. "Hah, what will you do with those scraps of paper? Scare me? Please—"
But the taunt died in the air.
Both froze.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, echoing down the wooden corridor outside. The faint groan of the floorboards crept closer, each step heavy as though whoever approached carried not just their weight but something far darker.
Do Ryeong's head snapped toward the door. His expression shifted—no longer weary, no longer sarcastic. It was sharp, focused. Dangerous.
Without warning, he seized Seong Ah's wrist, silencing Bongsu's sneer. His other hand swept across the chamber, unfastening the latch on a large, weather-worn wooden chest tucked into the shadows of the corner. Its surface was carved with faint, faded talismans, almost invisible in the dim candlelight.
"What—?!" Bongsu hissed, struggling within Seong Ah's body. "You dare—?"
"Quiet," Do Ryeong cut him off, his voice a razor's edge. He shoved Seong Ah's body inside the box. The air inside was suffocating, thick with old incense and dust. The lid creaked shut, plunging Bongsu into darkness.
From within, Bongsu's muffled voice snarled, "You filthy bastard! Do you know who you're hiding in here?!"
Do Ryeong pressed a single amulet over the seam of the box, his palm holding it firm. The paper glowed faintly, sealing the noise and aura within. Only a faint tremor of Seong Ah's restrained body shuddered against the wood.
The footsteps drew nearer. Louder. Just outside the chamber door now.
Do Ryeong turned, his face calm but his eyes glinting. With a wave of his sleeve, the candles flickered and dimmed, plunging the room into deeper shadow. His hand lingered on the box, keeping Bongsu trapped as he waited.
The door handle creaked.
Someone—or something—was about to enter.
The chamber was dim, lit only by the wavering glow of half-melted candles. Incense smoke curled lazily in the air, clinging to the carved wooden beams above.
Bongsu, still moving Seong Ah's lips with his sassy arrogance, scoffed. "You are so annoying!" His voice dripped with disdain as he spat toward Do Ryeong.
Do Ryeong only sighed, heavy and tired. He rose from his seat, his long robe dragging lightly against the polished floor. He reached for a cluster of amulets from the shelf, his expression unreadable.
But before Bongsu could throw another insult, both of them froze.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Slow. Measured. Drawing closer.
Do Ryeong's sharp gaze cut to the door, his whole demeanor shifting into alertness. With a swift motion, he grabbed Seong Ah's wrist, pulling her toward the shadowed corner. The heavy, black wooden chest sat there, its surface carved faintly with protective sigils.
Without giving Bongsu time to protest, Do Ryeong shoved Seong Ah's body into the chest. The lid closed with a creak, plunging the spirit into muffled darkness.
Inside, Bongsu hissed and cursed, his whispers clawing at the sealed air. "Damn it… suffocating in here…" But Do Ryeong pressed an amulet to the box, silencing his aura.
A second later, the door creaked open.
Do Ryeong calmly walked back to where he had been sitting earlier, reclining as if nothing unusual had happened. His long fingers drummed faintly against the wooden armrest, eyes cool.
The figure who entered was none other than Gyeonwoo.
The air shifted. For a moment, silence stretched—two men who knew of each other, now sharing the same room.
"They know each other," the chamber itself seemed to whisper as tension grew.
---
Meanwhile—
Far away, Yeomhwa wandered through a misty path that led toward the seashell shrine. Her steps slowed as memories surfaced of her earlier encounter with the old grandmother shaman.
The old woman had pressed a folded white cloth into her hands. "The Mother Goddess wishes this to be given to your child."
Yeomhwa had stared at it, eyes cold. "Did she think I would be thankful for that?"
But the grandmother only chuckled knowingly. "By the look in your eyes… you are thankful."
One by one, she had shown Yeomhwa sacred items passed down by elder shamans. At the end, she held up something simple, almost out of place—a lip-care stick.
"This belongs to Seong Ah. She used it as a human amulet… or rather, it belongs to Gyeonwoo. You should give it to him."
Yeomhwa had stiffened, fingers curling around the object. Her eyes darkened, conflicted.
Now, standing before the seashell shrine, she whispered to herself, "We can reconnect ties which are broken."
The grandmother's voice lingered behind her. "Did you say something?"
"Nothing," Yeomhwa replied quickly, shaking her head. "Just distracted for a moment."
---
Back in Do Ryeong's chamber—
Gyeonwoo finally spoke, his voice steady. "If I saw Seong Ah in a dream… does it mean she's dead? That we are bound by a spell, and her appearance in my dream confirms it?"
Do Ryeong leaned back, his dark eyes unreadable. "Yes. If the dead appear in your dreams, it means they have crossed over."
Inside the chest, Bongsu whispered to himself with bitter mockery. "Hah… suffocating in here… but how interesting. He still doesn't know…"
But outside, Gyeonwoo shook his head firmly. His voice grew stronger.
"No. I'm positive Seong Ah is alive. She's not gone. I can feel her… somewhere near me. Even now, I can still feel it."
The conviction in his words filled the dim room, cutting through the layers of incense and shadows like a blade.
The chamber was wrapped in shadows, its walls breathing with the faint scent of burnt incense. Thin trails of smoke curled upward, blurring the painted symbols carved into the wooden beams. The silence was broken only by the low rustle of Do Ryeong's robes as he leaned forward, one hand pressed against his face in frustration.
"You are so annoying," Bongsu spat, his tone sharp as glass. Through Seong Ah's body, his lips twisted into a mocking sneer, every word rolling with venom.
Do Ryeong exhaled deeply, as if even breathing in Bongsu's presence was tiresome. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the wall. His fingers brushed across a shelf lined with old scrolls and amulets, selecting a few with practiced precision.
But then—
A sound.
Footsteps.
Measured. Calm. Echoing against the wooden floor of the hallway.
Do Ryeong's head snapped toward the door, eyes narrowing. His instincts sharpened like a blade. Without wasting a heartbeat, he seized Seong Ah's wrist and dragged her toward the corner of the chamber.
There, in the shadows, sat a black wooden chest—large, heavy, its surface etched with ancient sigils that faintly glimmered in the candlelight.
"Wait—what are you doing—?" Bongsu tried to protest, his voice spilling from Seong Ah's lips.
But Do Ryeong didn't answer. With a swift motion, he forced Seong Ah's body inside the chest. The wood groaned as the lid came down, enclosing her in suffocating darkness.
Inside, Bongsu thrashed and hissed, his whispers low but furious. "Damn it… suffocating… this cursed box…" But before his power could flare, Do Ryeong pressed an amulet to the lid. The carvings along the chest pulsed faintly, sealing his presence in silence.
Outside, the footsteps grew louder.
Do Ryeong straightened immediately, brushing off the faint dust from his sleeve. He crossed the room with calm, unhurried steps and returned to his seat as though nothing had happened. His posture was composed, his fingers drumming lightly on the wooden armrest. By the time the door creaked open, his expression was one of bored indifference.
The visitor entered.
Gyeonwoo.
The chamber seemed to still, the air thick with unspoken tension. The faint incense smoke curled between them like a thin veil.
For a moment, neither spoke. They simply watched one another—two men whose paths were tied, whose knowledge overlapped more than either wished to admit.
---
Meanwhile—
Yeomhwa walked slowly along the stone path leading to the seashell shrine, her robes brushing against the dew-damp grass. Her hand lingered over the white cloth she carried, her mind replaying her meeting with the grandmother shaman.
"The Mother Goddess wishes this cloth to be given to your child," the old woman had said, her wrinkled hands trembling slightly as she offered the sacred gift.
Yeomhwa's lips had curved into a cold, almost mocking smile. "Did she think I would be thankful for this?"
But the grandmother had only looked at her knowingly. "By your tone, you sound ungrateful. But your eyes—they show something else. Perhaps… relief."
Then the woman had placed other items before her. Old beads, dried herbs, and finally… something small. A lip-care stick, simple and ordinary compared to the rest.
"This belonged to Seong Ah," the grandmother had whispered. "She used it as a human amulet. Or perhaps… it belongs to Gyeonwoo. You should return it to him."
Yeomhwa had stared at the object, her breath catching for just a moment.
Now, standing before the seashell shrine, she tightened her grip around it. Her voice dropped into a whisper only the waves could hear. "We can reconnect ties which are broken…"
"What was that?" the grandmother asked behind her.
"Nothing," Yeomhwa replied quickly, forcing calm back into her tone. "I was only… distracted."
---
Back in Do Ryeong's chamber—
Gyeonwoo finally broke the silence. His voice was low, but steady.
"If I saw Seong Ah in a dream… does it mean she's dead?" His eyes didn't waver. "Does it mean we are bound by a spell, and her appearance in my dream confirms it?"
Do Ryeong tilted his head slightly, studying him. His tone was calm, detached. "Yes. If the dead appear in your dreams, it is because they have crossed over."
Inside the chest, Bongsu pressed his lips into a bitter grin. His whispers slithered like smoke through the darkness. "Hah… if only he knew… suffocating in here but worth it just to hear this…"
But Gyeonwoo clenched his fists, his conviction burning brighter than any doubt.
"No," he said firmly. "I'm positive Seong Ah is alive. She's not gone. I can feel her… somewhere near me. Even now, I can still feel it."
The weight of his words filled the chamber, pressing against the shadows. Even Do Ryeong's cold expression flickered for the briefest second, a flash of something unreadable in his eyes.
The chamber was thick with tension, both men locked in their silent standoff. Then—
A faint sound.
Thump.
Rustle.
It came from the corner. From the wooden chest.
Gyeonwoo's sharp ears caught it immediately. His head snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing. "What was that?"
Do Ryeong's hand froze mid-drum against the armrest. His jaw clenched, but he forced an exhale through his nose, feigning indifference.
Another shake. Louder this time.
Thud.
"There's something inside." Gyeonwoo's voice carried both suspicion and urgency as he stepped forward.
Do Ryeong finally pressed a hand to his face, dragging it down with an exasperated sigh. "Tch… troublesome…"
But Gyeonwoo ignored him. In two quick strides, he was at the chest, his hands gripping the heavy lid. He threw it open—
And there she was.
Seong Ah.
Her pale face lit by candlelight, her breaths ragged, eyes wide as if she had been drowning in the dark. Gyeonwoo's entire body went still, his chest tightening with disbelief.
"Seong Ah…" he whispered, the name trembling on his lips.
But before he could touch her, her head jerked unnaturally, lips twisting into a sly grin that did not belong to her.
"You're a talker, aren't you?" Bongsu's voice spilled out from Seong Ah's mouth, mocking and cruel.
Gyeonwoo froze, his shock burning into anger. "You…"
He reached out—
But Bongsu was faster. With sudden force, Seong Ah's body drove a sharp kick into Gyeonwoo's stomach.
"Ugh—!" The impact sent him stumbling back, breath knocked from his lungs.
Before he could recover, Bongsu leapt from the chest, Seong Ah's body moving with an agility that wasn't hers. The wooden floor creaked beneath each strike of her feet as he bolted toward the door, his laughter echoing in the chamber.
Do Ryeong remained seated, his palm covering half his face, muttering under his breath, "Foolish…" Yet his eyes followed every movement, sharp and calculating.
Gyeonwoo, clutching his stomach, forced himself to his feet. His gaze locked on Seong Ah's fleeing form, his voice hoarse but resolute.
"Seong Ah… I'm not letting you slip away again."
And with that, he lunged after her.
The waves crashed against the rocks, spraying mist into the night air. The moon hung low, silver light trembling across the restless sea.
Bongsu was running wild, Seong Ah's body darting over the sand like a shadow unbound, her hair whipping behind her in the ocean wind. His laughter cracked and broke as he sprinted, half-crazed, half-panicked, the sound swallowed by the roaring tide.
Behind him, Gyeonwoo's footsteps pounded hard against the shore. His breath came heavy, but his focus was unshaken—his eyes locked on the figure before him.
Finally, with a desperate push, he caught her wrist. "Hey—wait!" he shouted, dragging her to a halt.
Bongsu whipped around, Seong Ah's chest rising and falling, her lips curling into a scowl. "F*ck… I don't know anymore…" The words came out ragged, guttural.
And before Gyeonwoo could react—Bongsu yanked Seong Ah's body forward, crushing his lips against Gyeonwoo's.
The world stilled.
The sea hushed for that fleeting second, the waves seeming to pull back. Gyeonwoo's eyes widened, his entire body trembling in shock—yet his arms instinctively wrapped around Seong Ah's waist, dragging her closer, holding her as if he'd never let go again.
The kiss burned—not with Seong Ah's warmth, but with something jagged, invasive.
Then suddenly, Bongsu ripped away, gasping. "Damn it…!" His voice cracked, frustration spilling out as he staggered back a step. "I can't… move over…"
Gyeonwoo's breath was harsh, his chest heaving as he stared at her. "Damn it?" he repeated, disbelief and anger in his voice. His eyes softened just slightly. "…Seong Ah…?"
Bongsu tilted her head, and Seong Ah's lips curved into a twisted smile. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand, combing through her wind-tossed hair. The gesture was almost tender, but his voice dropped low, mocking, intimate.
"I am obviously not her," he whispered, each word dragging like a blade.
The ocean wind howled, pulling at their clothes, carrying away the words—but the sting of them lodged deep in Gyeonwoo's chest.
The waves crashed against the rocks, spraying mist into the night air. The moon hung low, silver light trembling across the restless sea.
Bongsu was running wild, Seong Ah's body darting over the sand like a shadow unbound, her hair whipping behind her in the ocean wind. His laughter cracked and broke as he sprinted, half-crazed, half-panicked, the sound swallowed by the roaring tide.
Behind him, Gyeonwoo's footsteps pounded hard against the shore. His breath came heavy, but his focus was unshaken—his eyes locked on the figure before him.
Finally, with a desperate push, he caught her wrist. "Hey—wait!" he shouted, dragging her to a halt.
Bongsu whipped around, Seong Ah's chest rising and falling, her lips curling into a scowl. "F*ck… I don't know anymore…" The words came out ragged, guttural.
And before Gyeonwoo could react—Bongsu yanked Seong Ah's body forward, crushing his lips against Gyeonwoo's.
The world stilled.
The sea hushed for that fleeting second, the waves seeming to pull back. Gyeonwoo's eyes widened, his entire body trembling in shock—yet his arms instinctively wrapped around Seong Ah's waist, dragging her closer, holding her as if he'd never let go again.
The kiss burned—not with Seong Ah's warmth, but with something jagged, invasive.
Then suddenly, Bongsu ripped away, gasping. "Damn it…!" His voice cracked, frustration spilling out as he staggered back a step. "I can't… move over…"
Gyeonwoo's breath was harsh, his chest heaving as he stared at her. "Damn it?" he repeated, disbelief and anger in his voice. His eyes softened just slightly. "…Seong Ah…?"
Bongsu tilted her head, and Seong Ah's lips curved into a twisted smile. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand, combing through her wind-tossed hair. The gesture was almost tender, but his voice dropped low, mocking, intimate.
"I am obviously not her," he whispered, each word dragging like a blade.
The ocean wind howled, pulling at their clothes, carrying away the words—but the sting of them lodged deep in Gyeonwoo's chest.