Chapter 18
Nearly a week had passed since Jaeyel woke up.
His body was slowly recovering – the scratches had started to fade, the bruises turning yellow, and the ache in his back had dulled to a manageable throb.
Though not fully healed, he had grown restless, and today, he decided to help set the table.
He moved carefully, placing bowls and chopsticks in neat rows across the small wooden table in the kitchen.
“…You don’t have to do that,” came a voice from behind him.
Jaeyel turned.
Ric stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, revealing faint scars along his forearms. His gaze flicked between the table and Jaeyel.
Jaeyel offered a polite smile. “I feel better when I move around. Just thought I’d help.”
Ric shrugged and walked past him, muttering under his breath. “Do what you want.”
They sat down in silence, the clink of chopsticks and the soft sound of the wind outside filling the quiet space between them.
Jaeyel took a bite of the food. He paused.
The familiar taste pulled at something deep in his memory – his grandmother’s cooking.
It wasn’t exactly the same, but close enough to make his chest tighten unexpectedly. A small, involuntary smile touched his lips.
Ric caught it. “…What?”
Jaeyel blinked, startled out of the memory. He shook his head lightly. “Nothing. Just… reminded me of someone.”
Ric didn’t press. He just kept eating, his gaze dropping back to his bowl.
But something in his posture shifted – barely noticeable, and Jaeyel sensed it.
After a few more bites, Jaeyel set his chopsticks down.
“I just want to say… thank you for… saving me and letting me stay. I know it’s a lot to suddenly have someone in your home like this.”
Ric exhaled through his nose, as if the topic annoyed him more than it should. “You’re not a stray cat. You didn’t just show up on the porch.”
He leaned back slightly, eyes meeting Jaeyel’s for the first time during the meal.
“I found you bleeding and unconscious in the woods. You think I was just gonna leave you there?”
Jaeyel didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded slowly. “Still… thank you.”
Ric rolled his eyes and picked at the food with his chopsticks. “Whatever. Just don’t make a habit of falling in random places.”
That pulled a quiet laugh from Jaeyel – surprised even himself.
Ric glanced at him again but said nothing.
Then, after a moment: “So… what’s your plan?”
Jaeyel hesitated, unsure how to answer.
Before he could, Ric raised a hand, cutting him off.
“Never mind. Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s okay,” Jaeyel said softly. “I’ve been thinking… in a few days, I’ll start looking for work.”
Ric made a noncommittal sound and nodded once.
There was a pause before he added, “My grandmother works at the hospital near the main road. She mentioned they’re always short on staff. Cleaning, assisting, whatever.”
Jaeyel looked up at him. “Would she… really?”
Ric shrugged. “You can ask her yourself when she gets back.”
A beat.
“I’ve done all sorts of jobs before,” Jaeyel said. “This wouldn’t be anything new.”
Ric gave a small nod of approval. “Good. At least you’re not helpless.”
There was no cruelty in his words, just a flat honesty that somehow didn’t feel unkind.
Silence fell again as they continued eating.
Jaeyel picked at the food absentmindedly, his earlier smile gone.
His hands paused over the table, eyes unfocused. He had a lot on his mind.
Too much.
Ric didn’t say anything, but he noticed.
And for just a second, his gaze lingered on Jaeyel’s face – quiet, pained, distant – before he looked away again.
…
Yang stood in his office, staring out the window.
The city lights stretched far into the distance, but his eyes weren’t really seeing any of it. His hand was clenched into a fist, resting against the glass.
He looked exhausted.
Shirt wrinkled, tie slightly loosened, hair messier than usual.
He hadn’t been sleeping – anyone could tell that just by looking at him.
A knock came at the door.
Yang didn’t respond.
The door opened slowly anyway. His secretary stepped in, hesitating for a moment before speaking.
“I’ve gone through the partnership files. Sorted out the pending contracts and finalized the projections for next quarter…”
“…I’ll leave them on your desk.”
Silence.
The tension in the room felt thick. The secretary stood there, eyes lowered, not sure if he should stay or go.
Then Yang finally spoke.
“Do you know why I’m still working this hard for the company?”
His voice was low, tired.
The secretary looked up, unsure how to answer.
Yang didn’t wait.
“It was all for him.”
He paused, still staring out.
“I’ll keep working,” Yang said quietly. “He’ll come back. Pick up where he left off. Like nothing ever happened.”
The secretary swallowed, quietly nodding. “Yes, sir.”
Yang didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there, staring out at the city.
Then, quietly, without turning around, he said, “Go home.”
The secretary paused. “Sir… you haven’t rested. Maybe you should-”
“Go.”
Yang’s voice was low, sharp.
That was the end of the conversation.
The secretary hesitated, but didn’t push. “Yes, sir…”
He stepped out, shutting the door behind him.
Yang stayed frozen in place. His shoulders tense.
His mind drifting back to that moment – Jaeyel in his arms, looking up at him like he was the only person in the world.
The way his body fit so naturally against his.
That feeling hadn’t left.
…
In the dorm
Minseo had locked himself in his room again.
He was curled up on his bed, face buried in his pillow, crying like he had been for hours. Maybe even days. His voice was hoarse from all the sobbing, but it didn’t stop him.
Outside his door, Steve knocked gently, again. “Minseo… come on, man. You need to eat something.”
“I’m not hungry!” Minseo yelled through the door, voice cracking. “I’m not eating until the company tells us where Jaeyel is!”
Steve sighed and looked back at the others, who stood behind him in the hallway, all looking just as worried and tired.
Then an idea popped into Steve’s head. “Hey… we actually got news about Jaeyel.”
Silence.
Inside the room, the crying slowed. Then Minseo’s voice came again, softer this time. “…Jaeyel?”
A second later, the door creaked open.
Minseo stood there, eyes swollen, cheeks stained, and snot – so much snot. The moment he stepped out, the guys practically grabbed him.
“Wait-” he blinked, realizing too late. “You tricked me!”
Steve gave a little shrug. “Yeah, but it worked.”
Minseo huffed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “You!”
Steven looked at him more seriously this time. “You’re not the only one worried about him, you know. We all are. But we have to stay strong. We have to keep going… so when Jaeyel comes back, we’re still here. Our group still standing.”
Minseo sniffled, going quiet.
One of the other members chimed in, “You don’t think Jaeyel’s not coming back… do you?”
“No!” Minseo said quickly, eyes wide. “He’ll come back…”
“Then stop crying like a kid,” someone said, grinning.
“Yeah, and wipe your snot, bro. It’s disgusting.”
Minseo gave a weak chuckle, wiping at his face again while the others pulled him in for a messy group hug, all arms and awkward pats – but it was warm.
…
Morning light spilled through the tall glass windows, washing the office in a pale glow.
The city stretched far below, blurred behind the glass casting long shadows across Yang’s office.
Papers were scattered across his desk, a jacket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch.
Yang sat slumped in his chair, head tilted back, deep circles under his eyes. He must’ve fallen asleep at some point – finally.
His eyes fluttered open with a groan. He rubbed his temple, the dull ache in his head a reminder of how little rest he’s had lately.
Then his phone rang.
Sharp, sudden. He reached for it without looking, but when the screen lit up, his hand froze.
He stared at it for a beat, expression unreadable – then he answered.
“…Okay,” he said. A pause. “Make sure to be on guard.”
He ended the call.
The tension in his body shifted instantly.
He stood, slow but purposeful, the air around him suddenly heavier – dangerous.
Without another word, Yang grabbed his coat and walked out of the office.
…
The sterile white ceiling came into focus as Yin blinked his eyes open, slowly, like it took effort just to wake up.
His body felt like lead – wrapped in bandages, aching everywhere. The steady beep of the heart monitor grated on his nerves.
He let out a dry, bitter breath.
“…Still alive, huh…” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
“Should’ve just let me die…”
Silence.
Then, a voice – calm, quiet, and colder than the room itself.
“Because I have to kill you myself.”
Yin froze.
He turned his head, stiff and slow, every nerve suddenly alert despite the pain.
Yang was standing there, just inside the room. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp.
The kind of stare that could cut through skin.
Yin didn’t say a word.
Neither did Yang.
But the silence between them was louder than anything the machines could make.
