After returning home in Yoon Taehee’s car, Jaegyeom ran straight to the bathroom and threw up everything he had eaten.

The words he couldn’t bring himself to say, the words he had kept locked inside his heart, came up instead as nausea.

By the time he had vomited everything out, Jaegyeom was completely exhausted. His body and mind were both drained to the limit. Even after he lay down in bed, sleep would not come. He tossed and turned all night, drifting into shallow sleep only to wake again.

Before he knew it, it was the dead of night.

Lying on his side, Jaegyeom stared out the window with blurred eyes.

Is Yoon Taehee working at headquarters right now?

“......”

Jaegyeom, who had been slowly closing and opening his eyes, suddenly sat up in bed.

He had remembered something he needed to do.

After rummaging around his room, he found a sheet of white paper and a pencil, then went out into the living room.

Jaegyeom crept out carefully so as not to wake his family, then sat at the dining table. Since there was no desk in his room, he decided to write there instead.

He switched on a small light in the kitchen and began writing on the paper.

He would write neatly for a while, then stop, lost in thought.

Just then, a small voice came from somewhere.

“What are you doing awake?”

Jaegyeom froze and turned toward the voice.

When he looked down near his feet, Yoo Namsaeng was standing there, his face puffy as though he had just woken up, staring up at him.

For a moment, Jaegyeom wondered if he should hide the letter.

But unlike Jeongju and Mesan, Yoo Namsaeng couldn’t climb onto the ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) table unless someone lifted him up. He wouldn’t be able to see what was written there.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I’m practicing my handwriting.”

“May I stay with you?”

Instead of answering, Jaegyeom pulled out the dining chair beside him and set Yoo Namsaeng on it.

From that height, he still wouldn’t be able to read the contents.

After letting Yoo Namsaeng stay beside him, Jaegyeom resumed writing the letter.

As the pencil began scratching across the paper again, Yoo Namsaeng listened for a while before asking:

“Is that a suicide note, by any chance?”

Jaegyeom’s hand stopped abruptly.

“......”

Yoo Namsaeng, the stone that had rolled into their lives, was shameless, gluttonous, and somewhat childish.

But strangely enough, there were times when he was sharper than Jeongju, the fox.

It might very well be a suicide note.

After a moment of silence, Jaegyeom answered calmly.

“How did you know?”

“Why would you write something like that...?”

Yoo Namsaeng lowered his head, his face falling.

“Like you said, maybe there’s no reason to live.”

Jaegyeom set down the pencil in his hand.

“So I tried thinking that way too, but it didn’t work for me.”

“What didn’t?”

“No matter what I do, the thought Why am I alive? won’t leave me.”

Yoo Namsaeng had once said that one did not necessarily need a reason to live.

It sounded plausible enough.

For ordinary people, maybe it was true.

But Jaegyeom was different.

“Because I’ve lived too long. I should have died a long time ago.”

Having lived several times longer than ordinary people, Jaegyeom’s heart had weathered just as much time.

It was not easy to polish a heart worn down and buried beneath so much dust.

Even when he tried not to think about it, he found himself constantly searching for the reason he was still alive. As long as that question remained, Jaegyeom would continue to suffer forever.

Already exhausted long ago, he did not want to go on living while carrying that pain.

Jaegyeom was, unavoidably, that kind of person.

“That is true.”

Yoo Namsaeng quietly agreed, then said nothing more.

After that, he simply sat beside Jaegyeom in silence, watching him write the letter.

A little while later, Jaegyeom finished writing. He gathered the papers and stood.

“Are you done?”

“Yes. Go back to sleep,” Jaegyeom whispered.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t tell the others.”

“Yes.”

Back in his room, Jaegyeom folded the finished letter neatly.

He needed to keep it somewhere safe, somewhere no one would find it before the day he could deliver it.

After thinking for a moment, Jaegyeom opened his closet.

Inside was a small drawer.

He decided to put the letter there.

Crouching in front of the closet, he bent forward and opened the drawer.

Just as he was about to place the neatly folded letter inside, he froze.

Something had caught his eye the moment the drawer opened.

It was the music box Yoon Taehee had given him.

He had meant to throw it away.

But in the end, he hadn’t been able to.

“......”

Jaegyeom stared blankly at the music box.

Then he shot to his feet.

He shoved his feet into his slippers and ran out of the house.

The pitch-black darkness of night was beginning to lift, and faint dawn was breaking in the distance.

Yesterday evening, after dropping Jaegyeom off at home, Yoon Taehee had said he was going to headquarters.

Then if Jaegyeom went there now, he should be able to meet him.

Without thinking any further, Jaegyeom started running.

He reached the main road and hailed the first taxi he saw. Fortunately, because it was early morning, there was no traffic, and he reached the area near Jongmyo quickly.

After getting out of the taxi, Jaegyeom ran frantically.

When he burst into the office, Ibin’s eyes widened like saucers.

“Oh! Jaegyeom?”

At his sudden appearance, the other team members also turned to stare at him, all looking startled.

At a glance, Jaegyeom looked completely flustered. On top of that, because he had rushed out the moment he woke up without even taking time to change, he was still wearing the clothes he had worn at home.

While everyone else was in uniform, Jaegyeom alone was in shorts and a T-shirt.

“Isn’t our rookie off today? Why are you here?”

Jaegyeom was in no state to answer.

He quickly scanned the office.

But the chief’s office stood open and empty.

Yoon Taehee was not there.

Just as Jaegyeom’s face fell in dismay—

“Jaegyeom, what’s wrong?”

Judging that something serious must have happened, the team members gathered around him with grave expressions.

Jaegyeom grabbed them and practically shouted as he asked where Yoon Taehee had gone.

“The Chief left early, around three. Why?”

The moment he heard that, Jaegyeom pushed past the team members and ran out of the office.

Behind him, voices shouted, “Whoa, Jaegyeom! Where are you going?” but Jaegyeom did not stop.

Once he was outside headquarters, Jaegyeom took out his phone with trembling hands.

Just in case, he tried calling Yoon Taehee again.

But Yoon Taehee still didn’t answer.

They said he had left work about two hours ago.

Jaegyeom couldn’t understand why he was unreachable.

Maybe he was showering, like last time.

Or maybe he was asleep.

Jaegyeom hailed another taxi.

After getting out at the entrance of Yoon Taehee’s apartment building, Jaegyeom began running again.

His flimsy slippers tangled around his feet as he ran, and he fell hard.

He hit the ground face-first, splitting his chin open.

Blood began to flow, but he didn’t even feel the pain as he forced himself back up.

By the time he reached Yoon Taehee’s front door, he was drenched in sweat, his breath stuck at the top of his throat.

“Taehee!”

He rang the doorbell and pounded on the door as if he meant to break it down, but there was no sign of anyone inside.

As he grabbed the doorknob and rattled it, a number suddenly flashed through his mind.

With trembling hands, he entered the number.

The door lock beeped and clicked open.

Jaegyeom threw the door open and stepped inside.

With the lights off, the apartment was dark.

“Yoon Taehee!”

Pale-faced, Jaegyeom searched desperately for him.

He turned on every light in the apartment and checked every room. He opened the bathroom door and went into the bedroom.

But Yoon Taehee was nowhere.

Jaegyeom tried calling him again, but his phone was still off.

Where did he go?

Suddenly, fear swept over him.

Had Suhyang already done something?

Suhyang had given him one week.

Jaegyeom was the one who had to make a decision, and Suhyang was the one waiting for that decision. Because of that, he had assumed she wouldn’t make any reckless moves during that time.

But that had only been his own complacent thinking.

Yoon Taehee had disappeared.

He wasn’t at headquarters. He wasn’t at home. He wasn’t answering his phone.

Something must have happened.

Perhaps Suhyang had changed her mind in the meantime.

Maybe she had changed tactics and decided to hold Yoon Taehee hostage to force Jaegyeom’s hand.

It had been his own fault for taking her promise of a week at face value in the first place.

Suhyang was cunning and treacherous as a snake.

The ominous premonition that had been hanging over him like fog now sharpened into a clear, suffocating certainty.

Jaegyeom collapsed to the floor, clutching his forehead.

Fear and anxiety tangled together, paralyzing his mind and making rational thought impossible.

Then, at last, rage boiled to the top of his head.

A chilling madness crept into Jaegyeom’s eyes.

In the end, Suhyang had broken her promise.

If she had laid even a finger on Yoon Taehee, he would never give her what she wanted.

He needed to tell Jeongju and Mesan to open a Fox Gate and take refuge immediately.

And then he would go to Suhyang.

Jaegyeom, who had been hanging his head low, slowly began to rise.

Beep.

The front door unlocked and opened.

“You...”

Jaegyeom stood utterly still, then slowly turned his head.

When he looked toward the entrance, he saw Yoon Taehee frozen beneath the motion-sensor light.

Yoon Taehee was looking at him with a slightly startled expression.

“Where have you been?”

Yoon Taehee, who had been blankly assessing the situation, asked a beat later:

“...What?”

“I asked where you’ve been.”

“I was working out...”

Just as he said, Yoon Taehee was wearing a black T-shirt and comfortable clothes. He also smelled faintly of damp shampoo, as though he had showered.

The apartment building had a private fitness facility for residents.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I left it at home.”

“Why was it turned off?”

“The battery must have died.”

Only then did Yoon Taehee seem to notice that something was very wrong with Jaegyeom, and he approached him.

“You... What happened to your face?”

Jaegyeom was a mess.

His chin was split and bleeding, his knees were scraped from falling while running, and his feet were covered in cuts from running all the way in slippers.

“Did something happen?”

“No. Nothing happened.”

Yoon Taehee’s expression hardened, and he grabbed Jaegyeom’s arm.

“Nothing happened, and you look like this?”

Jaegyeom gritted his teeth and slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. So let go.”

But Yoon Taehee grabbed Jaegyeom’s arm again without backing down.

“Jaegyeom.”

“Let go.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“I said, let go.”

Jaegyeom’s chest began rising and falling violently.

He tensed his arm, trying to wrench himself free of Yoon Taehee’s grip. But no matter how hard he struggled, Yoon Taehee held on to his wrist and refused to let go.

“Let go! I said let go, you fucking bastard!”

Jaegyeom thrashed and tore his hand out of Yoon Taehee’s grip with all his strength.

“Calm down!”

But Yoon Taehee did not retreat easily.

The two of them fell into a physical struggle, grappling with each other.

Jaegyeom shoved him away and pushed at him violently, overwhelmed by emotion. Then, unable to hold himself back, he swung his hand and slapped Yoon Taehee across the face.

Caught off guard, Yoon Taehee staggered back.

Panting, Jaegyeom grabbed him by the collar.

“Why—why won’t you let go when I tell you to? Why won’t you let go? Why!”

Jaegyeom clutched Yoon Taehee’s collar and shoved him toward the wall.

Yoon Taehee was pushed back by his strength, and his legs caught against the armrest of the sofa.

With a loud crash, he lost his balance and fell onto the sofa.

Jaegyeom didn’t miss the chance.

He immediately climbed on top of Yoon Taehee and grabbed him by the collar.

It was hardly the first or second time he had been hit by Jaegyeom, so Yoon Taehee reflexively closed his eyes.

But then, suddenly, everything went still.

Where a harsh fist should have landed against his cheek, a careful warmth touched him instead.

Yoon Taehee froze and opened his eyes.

Without realizing it, he held his breath.

Jaegyeom was crying.

“You... why...”

As if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, Yoon Taehee’s eyes slowly widened.

The palm pressed to his cheek was hot with lingering warmth.

Jaegyeom held his hand gently against Yoon Taehee’s cheek and cried as though he could barely breathe. His chin trembled, and tears streamed endlessly down his face.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaegyeom cupped Yoon Taehee’s cheeks with both hands.

“I was so angry.”

Yoon Taehee lost his words and stared blankly up at Jaegyeom’s face.

“......”

Still gasping for breath, Jaegyeom grabbed at Yoon Taehee’s chest, then broke into sobs, his shoulders shaking.

The fabric clutched in his fist crumpled roughly.

He was crying so hard he could hardly open his eyes.

“I was so angry...”

In truth, he had wanted to apologize.

“Taehee. I... I ruined your ten years.”

He wanted to say it was all his fault.

That he had ruined everything.

“I tried to throw it away. I tried to throw away the music box, but I couldn’t.”

But before that, there was something he truly wanted to say.

“I’m sorry. I like you.”

Jaegyeom, his head hanging low, said it in a tear-choked voice.