“......”

So when you’re too shocked, no words really come out at all. Kwon Yido had already hidden his face, but I couldn’t forget the scene I’d ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ just witnessed. That moment when his expression didn’t change at all, and only tears kept falling.

“No...”

Haltingly, I opened my mouth. He was still holding his breath with his head bowed. Feeling lost about what to do, I stepped a little closer, and then a voice, faint enough to barely hear, slipped out.

“This is why...”

“......”

“...This is why I didn’t want to come.”

He said this is why he hadn’t wanted to come?

“What do you mean...”

I stepped closer again. With the distance narrowed, I realized that even his exhaled breath was faintly mixed with sobs. Even though I was watching with my own two eyes, I still couldn’t believe that he was crying.

“...Why are you crying?”

What right did he have to cry? Who was the one who should really be crying here? He was the one who said with his own mouth that he had almost thrown away his lingering attachment, but now that he was about to leave, he was shedding tears.

“You... no...”

I didn’t know what words to say. My voice itself came out unsteady in my bewilderment. The thought of leaving him behind had long since disappeared, and now all I could think was that I had to ask the reason.

“Look at me.”

“......”

“Look at me, Kwon Yido.”

But he neither looked at me nor responded. He only drew in a long breath and bit his lip. Frustrated by the sight, I grabbed his wrist, and only then did he slowly lower his head toward me.

“...Sejin-ah.”

Thud—his forehead touched my shoulder. How long had he been standing there? His body carried a chill as cold as the weather. Rubbing his face against my shoulder, he spoke in a trembling voice.

“It’s my fault.”

I drew in a sharp breath. That one sentence was more desperate than any apology I had ever heard.

“I’m sorry.”

His throat seemed choked. I’d always thought his voice carried well, but now it was so faint that I had to concentrate just to hear it. He gripped both my arms with shaking hands and began in a trembling voice.

“So...”

A déjà vu... was that what I should call it? Just like that time when he had knelt before me. Just like that time when he held my hands and begged so desperately. Kwon Yido’s voice from then—saying he would do whatever I asked—flickered by my ear.

“Don’t go.”

“......”

Ah, so I was only now hearing these words. Not “don’t abandon me,” not “forgive me,” but simply those words—don’t go.

“...You said you threw it all away.”

There weren’t many things I could say to him. My answer slipped out like a sigh, but it carried all the resentment I’d piled up until now.

“You said if I told you to disappear, you would.”

Crying like this—wasn’t that against the rules? After staying so unaffected all this time, how could emotions suddenly surge now? Slowly stirring grief poured out toward me, mixed with a faint pheromone scent.

“But what am I supposed to do if you’re the one crying?”

“......”

He still gave no answer. No—it was more accurate to say he couldn’t. His ragged, sorrowful breathing, his trembling hands, the occasional sob—they already told me everything.

“Kwon Yido.”

I slowly took his arm in both hands. I tried to push him away, but the strength he put into his grip wouldn’t let me. He had said he would let go, but now he was clinging on. Thinking that, I softened my voice anyway.

“Look at me. Quickly.”

“......”

“Hurry.”

He wasn’t some stubborn child. I’d said this much, but he still wouldn’t budge. I thought of pressing once more, then decided it was useless, so I shut my mouth. Left with no choice, I hardened my tone instead.

“If you don’t raise your head, I’m going home.”

Ridiculous as it was, the threat worked perfectly. With a short flinch, Kwon Yido slowly lifted his head. In that short time, he had shed so many tears that stains remained on the coat where he’d leaned.

“......”

“......”

Unlike before, his eyes were rimmed red, brimming with tears. Each blink made them spill, dropping down his smooth jaw.

“...Did you really throw it all away?”

I gently raised my palm to his cheek. The damp skin, cooled by the wind, was icy. Like a small animal seeking warmth, he closed his eyes and pressed his face against my hand. When he opened them again, he answered in a sunken voice.

“No.”

It was a different answer from earlier. His throat moved in a swallow, his Adam’s apple jerking.

“I couldn’t throw away a single thing.”

If that was the case, why had he been so stubborn? I knew his actions came from guilt, but still there were things I couldn’t understand. How was he planning to go on when he was in this much pain? Or when we had faced each other earlier—how could he have seemed so calm?

“I can’t throw away anything related to you.”

The more he spoke, the more his voice was soaked with tears. That usual composure of his was nowhere to be found in the cracking edges of his tone. His face crumpled as his eyes twisted with sorrow.

“...Sorry.”

“......”

“I’m sorry, Sejin-ah.”

So he could cry like this. So he could cry so pitifully, so wretchedly. Biting his lip hard, tears streamed down endlessly. His reddened eyes and trembling wet lashes gave him such a helpless look.

“I know I don’t deserve to be like this...”

“......”

“But I don’t think I can help it.”

He was pitiable, yes, but the pity came with a strange feeling. My chest tickled, and I had to clench and unclench the hand inside my pocket again and again. That great man, that always-unshakable Kwon Yido, was baring raw emotions before me—and it made me feel satisfied.

“Please, don’t go...”

I wasn’t in any position to be calling Kwon Yido a pervert.

I withdrew my hand and swallowed down a sigh. He was... no, honestly, he was very cute. Even as I thought him pitiful, I couldn’t help but want to tease him when he was like this.

“Stop crying.”

“......”

“What’s so heartbreaking that you keep crying?”

I didn’t know how to comfort. To hug and soothe him felt too lenient after the way he had behaved. I could have coaxed him, but instead I purposely spoke bluntly.

“Why did you act like that if you were just going to end up here?”

“...Ha.”

His sigh spilled out heavy with tears. As soon as my hand left, fresh tears poured down again from his eyes. Unable to hold it back, he covered his face with a hand once more. His pheromones, usually like damp wood, now poured down like a forest in a rainstorm.

“You should’ve just begged from the beginning.”

“......”

“If you had, none of this would’ve happened.”

I looked at him and spoke slowly. My gaze lingered on the veins standing out on the back of his hand, and I occasionally watched his lips move. I resisted the urge to reach for him by clenching my fists tight.

“You should’ve said you were sorry and begged me not to leave. Not that talk about freedom—you should’ve clung to me, saying you couldn’t live without me.”

What came first wasn’t triumph but relief. Letting out what I had been holding in, I was also calming myself.

“To say you’d disappear forever from my sight... what nonsense.”

Even while resenting him, I had thought he was just putting on a front. That he was pretending to be strong out of stubborn pride, nothing more—that’s the conclusion I had drawn on my own.

“You shouldn’t have said you’d thrown away almost all your attachment.”

That was why the betrayal had stung. Hearing that he’d abandoned his lingering feelings for me.

“As if that’s possible between people who are bonded...”

Even when he was out of sight, I could always feel Kwon Yido. He was the same—if we separated, it would only leave us worse off than if we had simply broken up. Bonding... yes, unless that bond between us was broken.

“Unless one of us dies...”

At that thought, I suddenly stopped speaking. As soon as I voiced the hypothetical, a wave of déjà vu crashed over me. His withdrawn gaze, his resigned eyes, that overly calm heart—all of it was eerily familiar.

“...Kwon Yido.”

Slowly, I repeated his name. My mind retraced dates. The season we broke up, the time when I had died. I had vaguely thought it was around this time, but carefully, I pieced it together.

'...Live well, once. Just once.'

So it was today. Realizing it made chills run down my spine. That one line about having thrown away almost everything, the hope he had been slowly killing, every reaction Kwon Yido had shown flashed past me like a panorama.

“...Ha.”

He had meant to die. To leave me here, to vanish without a trace. To cast away his feelings for me, and cross a river he could never return from. Just as I had chosen once before—he had been about to do the same.

“How could...”

A dizzy spell hit me. The world swam before my eyes, and I lurched forward to seize his wrist. I pulled away the hand covering his face and stared at him close up.

“You know what I’m thinking.”

“......”

I didn’t need his answer. The emotion in his eyes was clearly defeat. Those tear-soaked pupils also held the resignation of someone who had been found out.

“...Say it’s not.”

“......”

“Say it’s not true.”

My hair bristled like quills. If he didn’t answer, I felt like something unknown inside me would explode. So I pressed him. But all Kwon Yido did was lower his eyes sorrowfully and breathe out one word.

“...Sorry.”

“How could you...!”

The words burst out, only to catch in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, then, with my insides boiling, I wrenched my hand free violently.

“How could you do that?”

My fury surged up to my skull. When was the last time? The day he broke off our engagement, maybe. That same flood of disappointment and betrayal now overwhelmed me again.

“Why are you always like this? Reaching your own conclusions, ending things by yourself, saying nothing to me.”

Do I even have the right to be angry at him? I ignored the question. My vision darkened, and all I could do was spit the words like venom.

“You think I’d be happy if you died? That I’d be glad you were gone because you were a nuisance? That if the bond broke, I’d live well?”

“......”

“Why, why are you doing this!”

Whack! My hand struck Kwon Yido’s shoulder. My own vision blurred, and I had to pause to steady my breath. When my eyes met his again, I remembered clearly the last time I had seen his face.

“...How can a person do that.”

I clenched my fist tight, teeth grinding. My hand pressed on his shoulder, I let out a bitter laugh.

“Why don’t you tell me to live well, then.”

“......”

“Just once, tell me to live well—like I did.”

Back then, I had wanted Kwon Yido to regret. I hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but I had wanted to remain in his memory. Was Kwon Yido thinking the exact same thing as me? Wanting me not to forget him?

“...I did it because I didn’t know any other way.”

But as soon as he heard me, his face twisted. It looked the same as when he was fighting back tears. Slowly holding my wrist, Kwon Yido spoke in a voice he struggled to control.

“I wasn’t trying to get revenge on you.”

So he had known why I died. He had already realized that my death carried resentment toward him.

“How could I ask to see you again, when I ruined you like that?”

It was something he had always said. Tears welled and rolled down his cheek. His grip on my hand slowly tightened.

“How could I ever ask you to forgive me, after what I did to you?”

One drop, then another—tears flowed again. Unable to restrain the overflowing emotion, Kwon Yido wept even as he spoke.

“I want to beg you to stay with me too. To cry, to kneel, to cling to you if that would hold you—I’d gladly do it.”

His voice swelled with the emotion choking him. He no longer even tried to stop the tears. Swallowing sobs, his face contorted.

“Three weeks... yes, I was going to give up by then. To throw everything away, and then let you go.”

So the three weeks he set had really been a grace period before the end. Even as he looked at me, he had been slowly killing his feelings.

“But every word you said gave me hope again.”

“......”

“When you slept with me... I thought maybe the next day you’d smile at me. Then the day after, maybe you’d tell me you were okay. And then, maybe again, we’d be like before...”

He trailed off. His furrowed eyes were filled with suffocating anguish. When he exhaled, his breath carried all the grief pent up until now.

“...That maybe you’d like me again, like before.”

He went silent, catching his breath. His tears dripped thick and fast, soaking the ground at his feet. Dark shadows spread across the pavement like in heavy rain.

“But it wasn’t, was it.”

“......”

“You’ve already put your feelings in order, Sejin-ah.”

Bonding really didn’t mean much, after all. We thought it meant sharing everything, but in reality, it told nothing. From the day after I cried and lashed out at him, when my heart had calmed—he must have thought exactly that.

“How could I hold on to you, then.”

His heart collapsed as if it had never been still. All the emotions he had shoved aside came bursting out. He gulped huge breaths, his voice sounding as if it might snap any moment.

“I can’t live without you.”

Blink. His eyes closed and opened again. My face reflected in his pupils.

“And then I’ll only end up doing things you’ll hate again.”

His face twisted with self-loathing. His tear-streaked face even showed a flash of hatred for himself.

“That’s why I was going to die.”

“......”

“Because then the bond would break.”

Where had it gone wrong? I thought everything was getting better, but it wasn’t. I thought we were slowly getting closer, but he had been preparing to go further away. There were still so many tangled threads between us. And everything the bond didn’t convey, we had no choice but to put into words.

“Really...”

I began slowly, pulling my hand free. This time Kwon Yido let me go easily. His hands slipped away and fell weakly to his sides.

“You’re really an idiot.”

So this was the kind of stupid thing I had done, too. Only now did I realize it. Everything I’d thought was rational judgment had just been a choice made with my back to the cliff. At the time I believed it was best, but in hindsight, it was all mistakes.

“Kwon Yido.”

Strangely, my mood was calm. The words I needed to say came without difficulty.

“After I died, you followed me, didn’t you.”

I hadn’t seen his death, but he had told me he followed after mine. Now that we shared the same time, surely he had died around then too.

“Then what do you think I would’ve done after you died?”

“......”

For a moment, his face went blank. His eyes shook, focus blurring.

“When you die, the one left behind is the one who suffers.”

Letting me go—no, that was all an excuse. His choice hadn’t considered me at all. He had only been desperate to run away, without a thought for what came after.

“The one who remembers is the one who suffers.” 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

“......”

“And no one knows that better than you.”

Kwon Yido couldn’t bring himself to deny it. During those months when I couldn’t remember him, no one had suffered more than he did.

“...I don’t know what we’re even doing.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets and turned my head aside. I swallowed back the sigh swelling to my throat, clutching the box I’d brought from home.

“Let’s stop this. Let’s just have dinner together.”

“......”

“It’s late... and besides, I have something to give you.”

When I glanced at him, Kwon Yido had nearly stopped crying. The wetness was still there, but it wasn’t pouring like before. His reddened eyes looked so pitiful they were almost unbearable to see.

“And besides, it’s a shame. Mr. Kim’s been waiting all this time.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up Mr. Kim. Kwon Yido’s expression turned subtle. Looking past my shoulder, he turned his head away from me. I pulled my gaze from him and let out a sigh.

“Let’s go. I made a reservation at a restaurant.”