Chapter 17
Two weeks later
…
Beyond the vast forest, in a small, quiet residential area, an old traditional-style house stood tucked away from the world.
Sunlight streamed through the window of one of its rooms, casting a warm glow inside.
A man lay on the bed, his body covered in bandages, small cuts and bruises marking his skin.
His eyelids fluttered before slowly opening, squinting against the light. A groan left his lips – whether from pain or exhaustion, he wasn’t sure.
The door creaked open.
A sharp gasp filled the room.
An old woman stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Then, snapping out of it, she rushed to his side, her voice filled with relief.
“You’re awake! Aigoo! We were this close to taking you to the hospital in two more days!”
He blinked at her, disoriented.
Her words barely registered. His throat was dry, like sandpaper, and when he tried to speak, only a hoarse whisper came out.
The woman noticed immediately.
“Can you sit up?” she asked. “It’ll be easier to drink this time. We’ve been squeezing water and folk medicine into your mouth all this time.”
He had been waking and fainting for days, never fully aware of it.
With her help, he slowly pushed himself up. His body was sluggish, sore, every movement reminding him just how battered he was.
Still, he managed to sit, and the woman carefully handed him a glass of water.
The moment the cool liquid touched his lips, he felt a little more alive.
After a few sips, he finally spoke.
“…Where… am I?”
His voice was still weak, but at least it came out.
The woman gasped again, almost dropping the glass.
Her face paled. “OH NO!. A-a-amnesia?!”
He frowned, confused. “…Huh?”
She hesitated, then asked cautiously, “Do you know your name?”
…
A pause.
Then, in a quiet voice, he answered,
“Jaeyel…”
The woman let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank goodness, so it’s not what they call amnesia.”
Then her eyes widened, lighting up with realization. “So your name is Jaeyel!”
Despite himself, Jaeyel let out a weak smile. “Yeah… I’m… fine.”
The woman nodded quickly.
Then, more seriously, she asked, “Do you remember why you’re here instead of… a hospital?”
Jaeyel’s smile faded.
His gaze dropped.
…
Two weeks ago
The forest was quiet – eerily so – except for the sound of twigs snapping under heavy boots.
A man in his early twenties trudged through the underbrush, a half-empty woven basket swinging lazily from one hand.
His dark hoodie was speckled with bits of forest debris, and his expression was one of thinly veiled irritation.
“Tch… Grandma said there’d be more vegetables out here,” he muttered to himself, scanning the ground with a furrowed brow. “What a waste of a morning.”
He paused, sighed, then glanced up at the canopy of trees above.
Sunlight filtered through in patches, and somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped mockingly.
He rolled his eyes and kept walking.
Then, a sudden snap. Not from his own foot this time.
He stopped.
A moment later – thud.
He straightened, the irritation on his face quickly shifting to guarded alertness.
“…The hell was that?”
Carefully, he stepped toward the source of the noise, pushing aside branches as his pace quickened.
Just ahead, in a shallow dip in the forest floor, something – or someone – was lying on the ground.
It was a young man.
Covered in dirt and scratches. Barely conscious.
The stranger let out a faint groan.
The man cursed under his breath. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
He hesitated – just for a moment. Then sighed heavily and crouched beside him.
“Hey. You alive?” he asked, nudging the stranger’s shoulder with the back of his knuckles. “Oi. Wake up.”
The young man didn’t respond right away, only let out a weak sound, barely moving.
The man scowled, looking around as if hoping someone else might miraculously appear to deal with this instead.
No one did.
With a frustrated grunt, he reached into his pocket for his phone. No signal.
“Of course not,” he muttered. “Useless piece of junk.”
As he moved to stand, a hand suddenly latched onto his wrist.
He startled slightly, eyes darting down.
It was the stranger – his grip weak but desperate.
“Don’t…” the young man whispered, barely audible.
The man froze. “What?”
The stranger’s body trembled. “Don’t take me… to the hospital.”
His voice cracked, thin and trembling, and then his face twisted into something raw – pain, fear, panic.
Tears started slipping down his cheeks as he clung weakly to the other man’s wrist.
“I’m… so scared…”
The man stared at him, stunned into silence.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
Then, just like that, the young man’s hand fell away. His eyes fluttered shut, and his body went slack.
“Shit- hey!” The man leaned in, shaking him gently. “Hey! Don’t just pass out!”
No response.
He looked at the stranger’s pale face, the tear stains still fresh.
With another sigh, this time much heavier, he ran a hand through his hair. “Seriously? What kind of mess did I just walk into…”
But still, despite everything, he slid his arms under the unconscious man and carefully lifted him up.
“…Guess I’m not leaving you here, huh?”
Back to present
…
Jaeyel sat by the window, his gaze lost in the distance.
The sunlight filtered through, but it did little to bring life into his eyes.
He looked fine – just a few scratches, a sprain, and a constant ache in his back from the fall. Considering how high he had dropped, he was very lucky.
The trees had worked together to break his fall, but now it felt like something inside him had broken.
He was alive, yes, but it felt like he was barely living.
The door creaked open, and the old woman entered, holding a tray of food.
Jaeyel barely looked at it. He was about to tell her he wasn’t hungry, but before he could, she was already speaking.
“You should eat,” she said, setting the tray down in front of him. “Your body needs the nutrients.”
Jaeyel hesitated for a moment, then slowly picked up the chopsticks.
His movements were slow, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
The old woman sat down beside him and gave him a gentle look.
“I actually asked my grandson to bring this to you,” she said with a faint smile, shaking her head.
“Ric, that boy. He just shoved the tray into my hands and muttered something about not being ‘good with sick people.’ Then walked right out.”
She let out a small, amused sigh. “Typical.”
Jaeyel glanced at her for the briefest moment before returning his eyes to the tray.
“You know,” she added, “he’s the one who found you. In the forest. Brought you here on his back, all the way through those trees. Complained the whole time, of course, but never once stopped. Not until you were safe inside.”
She paused, watching him.
“I don’t know what you’re going through. But… when you get to my age, you’ll start seeing life differently. Things become easier because you overthink less. You just… accept life as it is.”
She took a breath.
“I’m not saying your feelings don’t matter… they do. What you’re going through right now is real, and it’s tough. But life, no matter how unfair it seems, is about facing all of it – the good, the bad, the hard parts. And when you get older, you’ll realize that those struggles? They’ll become the strength you never knew you had.”
Jaeyel looked up at her, his face expressionless, but his voice was soft when he spoke, barely above a whisper. “Thank you…” he said.
He paused for a moment, unsure of how to address her.
Finally, he asked, “What should I… call you?”
The old woman smiled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You can call me whatever you like,” she said, her voice warm.
Jaeyel thought for a second, then said, “Thank you… Grandma.”
The woman’s face froze for a moment.
She smiled at him, her expression softening.
“Eat, now,” she said, standing up. “I’ll leave you to it.”
…
The hospital lights flickered slightly, giving the room an almost cold feel.
The constant beep of the heart monitor echoed in the space, like a countdown to something inevitable.
Someone lay in the bed, covered in bandages from head to toe, bruises marking what was left of their skin. The machines hummed low, and tiny lights blinked on them like they were keeping track of the seconds.
Outside the room, footsteps crept softly down the hall.
They stopped.
The silence pressed in as the man lingered, unmoving, his gaze fixed through the glass window.
Yang.
From the look of him, it was clear he hadn’t slept in what seemed like forever.
This wasn’t the usual, calm, put-together Yang. He was disheveled, out of it, like he was barely holding it together.
His face was unreadable, cold, and scary.
But his eyes – his eyes were locked on the person in the bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest in perfect sync with the machines.
His hands were clenched tight, his knuckles white from the pressure.
Then, he muttered,
“You have no choice but to wake up… so I can kill you myself.”
