Come Looking for Flowers Chapter 6.3 - Falling Petals

Thud. With a loud noise, the door closed, and Yoonjo slid down against it as if collapsing. Sitting on the dirty floor, Yoonjo panted heavily for a long while.

After sitting there for quite some time, Yoonjo finally forced himself to stand as the world grew dark. He headed straight to the kitchen, turned on the faucet, and tilted his head to gulp down the tap water. He had no appetite whatsoever. Since leaving the hospital, he hadn’t had a proper meal.

Knock, knock. That was when the sound of knocking came. Startled eyes turned toward the door. Stiffening, Yoonjo stared silently at the entrance.

After the small knock, silence seeped in. Not even the faintest sign of presence could be felt. Yoonjo neither approached the door nor ignored it, frozen in place, quietly exhaling and swallowing his breath.

Could it be Won Kangho?

No, that’s impossible.

If it were a man, he wouldn’t knock so politely and wait. He’d be the type to break the door down, so it probably wasn’t him.

Then who could it be? His body, cloaked in fear, began to tremble.

It was only after a long while that Yoonjo moved. Tiptoeing toward the door, he carefully pressed his ear against it.

Beyond the door, it was silent. No sound, no sign of anyone. The cold metal door made his already pale face feel even colder.

With trembling hands, Yoonjo grasped the doorknob and turned it cautiously. Thump, thump. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, unnervingly loud. Gulp, the sound of swallowing was jarring.

“…….”

Despite opening the door with so much tension, there was no one on the other side.

Did he mishear? But the sound was too clear for that. As confusion grew, something caught Yoonjo’s eye.

“……What’s this?”

A shopping bag hung on the outer doorknob, printed with the name of a familiar franchise porridge restaurant. As Yoonjo realized what it was, emotions slowly welled up on his face. It was anger.

A surge of emotion rose, but Yoonjo swallowed it down and closed the door. The sound of the door closing was particularly heavy.

He didn’t need to investigate to know who had left the porridge. That realization was utterly dreadful. He loathed himself for knowing the man too well.

Slumping against the door, Yoonjo suppressed the sobs that threatened to burst out. Clenching his fists so tightly they turned white, he wrestled with the boiling emotions for a long time.

The strange phenomenon had started two weeks ago.

Yoonjo’s face was pale as he returned home. Passersby glanced at him, dressed in a short-sleeved t-shirt and thin pants, inappropriate for the season.

Out of nowhere, he had developed sleepwalking. He couldn’t count how many times he had left the house in his sleep.

He kept waking up in places other than home. The locations varied each time—sometimes a nearby park, an emergency staircase, an underground parking lot, or the playground in front of his house.

Today, the symptoms were worse. He had come to his senses in a place at least a ten-minute walk from home. Shivering in the cold air, Yoonjo curled up and hurried his steps.

Trembling as he returned home, an unwelcome guest greeted him. His arms, which had been hugging his body, dropped limply. His frozen face crumpled.

“What are you trying to do, seriously…….”

The man’s inexplicable behavior showed no sign of stopping. Seeing the shopping bag hanging on the doorknob as always, Yoonjo let out a weary sigh.

Three times a day. Without fail, a shopping bag appeared on the doorknob at mealtimes. Today was no different.

Ignoring it had its limits. Whether he brought it inside or left it, new food kept appearing, and he couldn’t just let the pile grow in front of his door.

He couldn’t even call to confront him. He didn’t have a phone, and to begin with, Yoonjo didn’t even know the man’s number. Nor did he want to seek him out.

With a heavy sigh, Yoonjo grabbed the shopping bag from the doorknob and opened the door. He thought about how another item of food would go to waste, adding to his headache.

Tossing the bag onto the table, he collapsed onto the sofa. His body, which had wandered through the early morning without his knowledge, was utterly exhausted. Even keeping his eyes open felt taxing, so he quietly lowered his eyelids.

He couldn’t understand why this was happening. He considered going to the hospital, but the answers he’d get seemed too obvious, so he dismissed the idea multiple times. He just hoped the symptoms would eventually disappear.

As days passed, problems began to surface throughout his body. Sleepwalking, nightmares, sudden chills in the early morning, and bouts of depression and anxiety that surfaced unbidden. Once broken, his body could no longer return to its original state.

Why did he keep leaving the house? Where was his subconscious so desperate to go that it dragged his sleeping body out? No matter how much he thought, no clear answer came to mind.

Just sleep a little. Closing his eyes, Yoonjo forced himself to rest. His weary body, worn out from wandering at dawn, needed a break.

He wanted to get better, but it wasn’t easy. Things others took for granted were incredibly difficult and painful for Yoonjo.

It’ll get better soon. It had to. He whispered the words he repeated daily to himself once again.

But wishes were just wishes. They didn’t come true easily. They were like futile dreams.

There was no sign of improvement, and the rising depression and lethargy gnawed at his mind.

Yoonjo’s face was pale as he leaned against the window. Despite the bright, clear sunlight, the house felt strangely dark. The light switch on the wall, neglected, stared lonely into the void.

Even breathing felt painful now. Though the leash was off and the handcuffs removed, it was as if time had stopped, and Yoonjo couldn’t move from that spot.

Uncontrollable tears rolled down his face. His arms, hugging his knees, trembled pitifully.

Was this the right way to live? Wouldn’t it be better to just give up? Such painful thoughts crossed his mind, but recalling his mother’s voice from a dream made him burst into sobs. For Yoonjo, who had lost his sense of direction, there was no path forward.

He fell asleep exhausted from crying, only to wake up in unfamiliar places, and the cycle continued. The duration of these episodes grew longer.

“Hey!”

His eyes shot open as someone grabbed his shoulder. His ragged breath turned white, dissipating into the air.

“Are you okay?”

The gazes of passersby pierced him painfully. His wide pupils slowly returned to normal. Yoonjo quickly checked his appearance.

His exposed skin was flushed with red splotches from the cold. Looking down at his hands, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

When had the world become so dark? The sky was pitch black, and the ground was covered in white snow. Everyone walking by wore thick coats—everyone except Yoonjo.

“If you need help, I can help you.”

The woman who grabbed him furrowed her brow with concern. Yoonjo quietly pulled away from her hand on his shoulder. Stepping back, he forced an awkward smile.

“I’m, I’m fine…… Sorry.”

“Hey, wait a second!”

Bowing his head, Yoonjo fled the scene. Pushing through the crowd, he roughly wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. The sorrow welling up to his throat finally spilled out.

“Argh!”

Running blindly forward, he tripped and fell flat. Stunned in that position, Yoonjo’s sobs finally broke free.

“Hic…….”

The tears that burst out were more sorrowful than ever. He knew he had to get up, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. On a deserted street corner, there was no one to help Yoonjo up.

Clenching his bloodied fist, he pounded his chest. No matter how much he hit, the pain inside didn’t subside. The massive knot in his heart neither melted nor shrank, tormenting him for days on end.

He was miserable for being unable to rise after falling, resentful of the man who had ruined him, and cursed himself for hoping, even in this moment, that the man would appear. His tears wouldn’t stop.

Snow, falling for who knows how long, piled softly on Yoonjo’s body. His falling tears couldn’t melt the snow covering him. It felt as if even the sky had abandoned him. His cries, more desperate than tears of blood, melted the ground.

“What am I supposed to do…….”

The snow in his tightly clenched hand melted away, leaving only traces as it stole even his faint body heat.

His consciousness slowly faded. If he fell asleep like this, would this be the end for real? Would he finally be free from this piercing loneliness and pain?

The strength drained from his tightly clenched hand. His vision blurred, and no thoughts came to mind. Yoonjo had no strength left to hold onto his fading consciousness.

His body alternated between burning hot and freezing cold, like moving between a cold bath and a hot one. His consciousness was murky, and his ears felt muffled, as if submerged in water.

The sensation of having no strength in his body was familiar. The pain coursing through him told Yoonjo he was still alive, not dead.

He rarely fell ill before. But after meeting the man, everything had turned upside down. He couldn’t even remember when he was last healthy.

It was as if the snow that had melted into his body had seeped into his bones, leaving him so heavy and in pain that he couldn’t move a finger. His consciousness teetered, sinking back into the abyss repeatedly.

A sudden wave of heat engulfed him like a massive flame. His breath caught, and he panted heavily.

All he could manage was a feeble twitch of his fingers. His body burned as if it were on fire. He thought he might have said something, but his muffled ears couldn’t hear a sound.

Suddenly, a cool breeze came from somewhere. The coolness brushed his furrowed brow, touched his ear, his neck, and gradually spread through his entire body.

Slowly, the heat in his body melted away. What turned to water fell from the corners of his eyes. His trembling body gradually calmed.

Save me. He might have thought that. It was a fleeting thought, perhaps a truth spat out in his feverish state, but he couldn’t remember clearly.

A cool sensation touched his lips. He wanted to cling to the thing that filled his lungs and took away his body’s heat, but Yoonjo had no strength for that.

His consciousness faded again. A ringing in his ears accompanied the flick of a switch. Click, with the sound, the world blinked out.

Quietly, he lifted his eyelids. A long streak of light stretched across the ceiling. Following the light, he saw a window.

Blinking slowly, Yoonjo quietly sat up. His body, which had been groaning in pain, felt as light as if it could fly.

It was a strange feeling. Since leaving the hospital, he had always felt as if he were carrying a heavy pile of mud, but today was different.

Pushing aside his confusion, Yoonjo got out of bed. The floor under his bare feet felt warm.

The world was still dark. It had been a while since he woke up before dawn. Instead of standing by the balcony window, Yoonjo sat on the sofa, waiting for the approaching dawn.

Was it because he was staring into the darkness? Inevitably, the man came to mind—his jet-black hair, eyes that mirrored that color, and a sharp voice pretending to be kind.

He no longer had to face him. He had escaped the man. The man had quietly honored his request to be left alone, and it had been several days since Yoonjo started living alone in this house. He hadn’t counted the exact days, but it wasn’t a short time.

Wondering if it was a dream, he pinched his cheek. The red mark left behind stung.

It was reality, not a dream. In this all-too-perfect reality, Yoonjo was alone. There was no one by his side.

Out of habit, Yoonjo touched his neck. When he gripped it tightly, he felt his pulse pounding through his fingertips.

He wasn’t dead. He was still alive, breathing, having survived.

What he had longed for was in his hands. He had reclaimed what the man had taken, holding it tightly in both hands.

But why didn’t it feel joyful at all? What was this empty, hollow feeling?

His hand dropped from his neck. His eyes, staring into the void, held no emotion.

It was as if he had become a lost child. No, a child who had lost his destination was more accurate. His body and mind felt strangely empty.

Biting his lip, Yoonjo stood and headed to the bathroom. He was alive, so he had to act like a living person. That’s what he had been enduring for.

When he emerged with a towel over his wet hair, dawn was slowly breaking. Relying on the blue light, Yoonjo cleaned the house. He gathered the uneaten food, stuffed the accumulated shopping bags into one, and sorted them for recycling.

“……Why isn’t it wet?”

It was while he was pulling the bedsheets to wash them. Touching the sheets, Yoonjo tilted his head.

He had been in such pain, drenched in sweat, so the sheets should have been soaked too. Yet, the old sheets were oddly dry, almost as if they had been freshly washed, with a pleasant scent.

He didn’t want to think too deeply about it. Shrugging it off, Yoonjo pulled off the dry sheets. Wet or not, he couldn’t lie down again in a place that held such painful memories.

After cleaning the house, there was nothing left to do. The sound of the old washing machine filled the air, and Yoonjo sat on the sofa, staring blankly at the silent television.

When the washing machine finished, he’d hang the laundry, then take out the trash, and then… what next?

Unlike his earlier burst of energy, all his will and motivation slumped. What had briefly flared up burned out just as quickly, disappearing.

As Yoonjo sat idly, killing time, the washing machine’s melody signaled the end of the cycle and stopped. He stared in its direction but didn’t move.

If he dealt with it now, there’d be nothing left to do. But he couldn’t leave the wet laundry as it was—otherwise, it’d smell, and that would be another hassle.

After much deliberation, Yoonjo finally stood. The damp laundry fresh from the machine carried the soft scent of fabric softener.

Spreading the crumpled bedsheets as wide as possible on the drying rack, Yoonjo grabbed the trash bags by the door and left the house. The outside air was still chilly.

“Phew, it’s really cold today, isn’t it?”

The apartment security guard spoke warmly. Sorting the trash, Yoonjo hesitated, unsure how to respond, then bowed.

“Uh, hello…….”

With a brief greeting, Yoonjo hurriedly left. In an empty alley, he steadied his nerves. Greetings that others did casually multiple times a day felt overwhelming and difficult for him. How could a simple greeting be so hard?

Only after calming his racing heart could he leave the alley. Though unlikely, fearing he might run into someone he knew, Yoonjo deliberately took less crowded streets to the mart.

The mart, just opened, wasn’t crowded—a relief for Yoonjo. He could quickly grab what he needed and head home.

“Mr. Lee Yoonjo?”

He was standing in front of the water aisle, pondering what to buy, when he heard his name, and all his thoughts froze.

His heart, which he had just calmed in the alley, began racing again. Though he wanted to flee, his body stiffened, unable to move.

The presence grew closer. Yoonjo couldn’t breathe, his eyelashes trembling. A pair of feet entered his lowered gaze.

“Mr. Lee Yoonjo, right?”

His head turned slowly. Barely holding onto his fraying consciousness, he cautiously looked at the face of the person who called his name.

“……Mr. Yoon Chaemin?”

Before he could fully register who it was, his lips moved first. Yoon Chaemin, whose name was called, grinned brightly.

“Wow, it really is you? I thought I got the wrong person.”

“…….”

“How’ve you been? It’s been a while, so I’m really glad to see you. Uh, but why are you alone? Where’s that guy?”

When Yoon Chaemin said “that guy,” his eyes briefly sharpened. Yoonjo said nothing. More accurately, he couldn’t.

The joy of reuniting with Yoon Chaemin lasted only a moment. Yoonjo thought that if he hadn’t mentioned the man, that joy might have lasted a bit longer.

Thinking of the man he had tried to forget naturally soured his mood. Seeing Yoonjo fall silent, Yoon Chaemin quickly changed the subject.

“Buying water?”

Yoonjo’s mind, lost in thoughts of the man, snapped back. “Yes,” he replied a beat late, and Yoon Chaemin chuckled playfully, making a small sound.

“That’s gonna be heavy. Can you carry it alone?”

“I was just going to get one bottle.”

“One bottle? That won’t even last a day, will it?”

“Well…….”

“If you’re buying, get a pack. I’ll carry it for you. Where’s your place?”

The face of the person asking about his home hadn’t changed since the last time they met. If anything was different, it was that he had lost some weight, and there were scratches on his face and exposed skin.

Blink. Amber eyes disappeared behind eyelids and reappeared. His throat felt dry.

Questions Yoonjo had thought about asking if he ever met Yoon Chaemin again flooded his mind. But he held back, fearing that speaking might put this person in danger again.

“Worried it’s too heavy? What do you take me for? This is nothing.”

Yoon Chaemin laughed good-naturedly, effortlessly lifting two six-packs of 2-liter water bottles, one in each hand.

“What are you doing? Lead the way.”

Unable to refuse the rare kindness, Yoonjo followed.

The walk home was awkward. His old house had never welcomed anyone but family—except for those who had barged in uninvited.

“Wow, your place is really tidy.”

Grunting as he set down the water, Yoon Chaemin glanced around the house. The freshly hung bedsheets filled the space with a pleasant scent.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Really? Perfect. I haven’t either—let’s eat together.”

Before Yoonjo could respond, Yoon Chaemin casually asked, “Chinese food okay?” and ordered. Soon after, the doorbell rang.

Jajangmyeon, fried rice, sweet-and-sour pork, and fried dumplings filled the modest table. Yoonjo found himself sitting across from Yoon Chaemin, holding a spoon.

“I should’ve ordered something else. Chinese places deliver the fastest… If you can’t eat it, don’t force yourself—leave it.”

“Okay.”

The food, eaten after so long, was overly rich and greasy. For Yoonjo, whose memory of proper meals was faint, it wasn’t exactly palatable.

Still, he sat through it, chewing and swallowing his share of fried rice. Yoon Chaemin kept the conversation going, preventing any awkwardness, and surprisingly, Yoonjo’s filling stomach didn’t feel bloated.

“Can I ask you something?”

Yoonjo, quietly chewing, looked up at Yoon Chaemin. The sound of Yoon Chaemin crunching on a pickled radish came from his mouth.

“If it’s a tough question, you don’t have to answer. Just hear me out.”

What kind of question warranted such a preface? Yoonjo nodded with slightly anxious eyes, carefully setting down his spoon.

Yoon Chaemin paused briefly. Meanwhile, Yoonjo sipped water, easing his tightening chest.

“Uh, maybe— ……What’s that?”

Just as Yoon Chaemin began to speak, his face hardened, and he muttered softly. His gaze wasn’t on Yoonjo but elsewhere. Yoonjo’s eyes followed.

Both of them looked at a small flowerpot. It was so long dead that it held no trace of life, a tiny, lifeless pot.

Yoon Chaemin stood and walked toward the flowerpot. Watching his back, Yoonjo’s face held only a faint trace of curiosity.

“Mr. Lee Yoonjo.”

Yoon Chaemin, standing in front of the flowerpot, called out to Yoonjo. His voice was excessively dark.

“Does that guy know about this house?”

That guy. It was a crude reference, not even a name. Turning around, Yoon Chaemin faced Yoonjo directly. In his hand was something unidentifiable. Yoonjo merely blinked once.

“Does he know?”

As if seeking confirmation, Yoon Chaemin asked again. Yoonjo chewed over the question and quietly nodded. At the same time, he instinctively knew that what Yoon Chaemin held was related to Won Kangho.

“That crazy psycho bastard…….”

A harsh curse burst from Yoon Chaemin as he roughly ruffled his hair. Yoonjo remained silent.

Muttering something to himself, Yoon Chaemin strode over. He dropped what he was holding right in front of Yoonjo with a grave expression. What landed on the table with a thud was a tiny camera.

Even though a camera had been found in his home, Yoonjo showed no sign of agitation. At his peculiar reaction, Yoon Chaemin hurriedly leaned over the table, gripping its edge.

“Mr. Lee Yoonjo.”

Yoonjo didn’t avoid Yoon Chaemin’s attempt to meet his gaze. His amber eyes turned toward him.

Yoon Chaemin’s lips, about to say something, froze. Stopping mid-sentence, he walked to the television, turned it on, and cranked up the volume. The noise blaring from the TV painfully pierced their ears.

“Mr. Lee Yoonjo, listen carefully.”

Coming closer again, Yoon Chaemin spoke a bit loudly into Yoonjo’s ear. The distance was uncomfortably close. As Yoonjo flinched and tried to pull back, Yoon Chaemin grabbed his shoulder and continued.

“Come with me.”

“……What?”

The end of Yoonjo’s questioning voice spiked. Yoon Chaemin brought his mouth closer to Yoonjo’s ear again.

“If you stay here, you’ll never escape that guy, Mr. Lee Yoonjo.”

Yoonjo’s face gradually hardened as he listened.

“I’ll help you. I’ll make sure that guy can’t touch you anymore, Mr. Lee Yoonjo.”

“…….”

“You know I’m a police officer. Helping you, Mr. Lee Yoonjo, is my job.”

Stepping back slightly, Yoon Chaemin locked eyes with him, waiting for a response. Yoonjo’s lips didn’t move, unable to find the right words. No thoughts came to mind about what to say.

Yoon Chaemin pulled a phone from his pocket and placed it in Yoonjo’s hand. The warmth of their overlapping hands was lukewarm.

“I couldn’t help you back then, Mr. Lee Yoonjo, but this time, I’ll make sure I do.”

“…….”

“I can’t leave you like this, Mr. Lee Yoonjo.”

His face was more serious than ever. Facing him, Yoonjo was enveloped by an unfamiliar emotion.

Why is this person going so far for someone like me? He even went through a near-death experience because of me.

It didn’t make sense. Why was he doing this, and was there some hidden motive? Fearful eyes turned toward Yoon Chaemin.

“……Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you doing so much for me?”

Was it because his voice was drowned out by the television’s noise, or because the words didn’t make sense? Yoon Chaemin’s face grew increasingly crumpled.

Yoon Chaemin’s unquestioning kindness was puzzling. Objectively, Yoonjo’s existence could never be beneficial to him. If anything, it could only cause harm.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m fine.”

How long had it been since he said he was fine? He had thought it countless times, but saying it aloud felt like forever.

Yoonjo pried Yoon Chaemin’s hand off and stood up. As he tried to walk past, Yoon Chaemin grabbed his shoulder and sat him back down. Startled eyes turned toward him.

“I’m doing this because I’m not fine.”

“…….”

“If I leave you like this, Mr. Lee Yoonjo, I feel like you’ll really break.”

Why was he so desperate? Yoon Chaemin looked almost pitiful, as if he might kneel at any moment.

‘Someone keeps overlapping with you, Mr. Lee Yoonjo.’

A distant memory of Yoon Chaemin’s voice echoed in his mind. Biting his lip hard, Yoonjo’s head buzzed with the sound.

The tiny camera on the table, Won Kangho watching everything from somewhere even now, Yoon Chaemin desperately trying to help him while muffling even the sound.

Was life always this noisy? His head ached, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Overwhelmed by emotions, his heavy head dropped forward.

The house, left alone, was shrouded in silence.

“Give me some time to think.”

Hours after sending Yoon Chaemin away with those words, the phone he left behind and the tiny camera from the flowerpot lay scattered on the table.

Sitting on the sofa, Yoonjo’s eyes were cloudy. Hugging his knees and resting his cheek on them, he stared quietly at the darkness outside.

“You said you’d let me go.”

A fragment of words fell. His eyelids slowly drooped and then rolled back up.

“You told me to go.”

Was it all a lie?

The muttered words were too faint. Blink, blink. His eyes, submerged in darkness, lost their original color, resembling someone else’s.

The old sofa let out a pained creak. In the overly silent space, even the sound of eyelashes brushing together echoed loudly.

“Answer me.”

Yoonjo’s gaze turned to a framed picture on the wall. The edge, reflecting light, glinted.

The drawing of flowers, woven from his family’s birth flowers and placed in a vase, was something Yoonjo had painted while preparing for art school. His parents cherished it more than any masterpiece.

And that frame was different from what he remembered. It was strange that he only noticed now, how different it was. Yoonjo guessed it was probably the man’s doing.

“You’re listening to everything, aren’t you?”

Selfish person. Tears welled up uncontrollably. What he couldn’t hold back slipped through and flowed downward. Rain fell on his parched face.

Burying his face in his knees, he hid his expression. In the pitch-black darkness, Yoonjo locked himself away, silently pouring out everything that had burst forth.

How can I escape you? There’s nowhere left to run, so how far must I go to find true freedom?

“Ugh…….”

His trembling hands clutched his frail shoulders. Whether it was his hands or his body shaking, the convulsive tremor, its source unknown, gradually consumed Yoonjo.

Is there no place where I can exist as ‘me’? In a world where every destination is hell, how can I escape this nightmare?

Dark clouds rolled in. Swallowing the pitch-black world with even deeper darkness, they poured out sticky water.

His sodden body felt heavy. Unable to bear the weight, he collapsed, sprawling across the sofa. Even breathing was heavy in the dawn.

“Is this all your luggage?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if you need anything, you can buy it later.”

Thud. The trunk closed. Brushing his hands twice, Yoon Chaemin personally opened the passenger door and gestured inside.

Yoonjo had contacted Yoon Chaemin three days later. In that time, he tidied the house and packed what little he had.

“There’s a blanket in the back if you get cold.”

At Yoon Chaemin’s words from the driver’s seat, Yoonjo shook his head, quietly saying, “I’m fine.”

Through the passenger window, he saw the old apartment. His eyes, gazing at the home he might never return to, held a tender affection.

“Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

The car left the apartment complex without hesitation. Yoonjo kept his eyes on the shrinking building for a long time. It might be the last time.

The journey took about six hours.

Deciding to leave with Yoon Chaemin hadn’t taken long, but organizing what was left took more time than expected.

“We’ll stop at a rest area to eat.”

“Okay.”

“You can sleep if you’re tired.”

Even thinking of the faces he’d soon see, Yoonjo couldn’t smile. No smile came. Even in this moment of moving forward, he wasn’t sure if this was the right choice, leaving his heart tangled.

Should he say he’s not going now? Even as he hesitated, the car steadily drove on. Leaving the dense city behind, the highway stretched wide.

This was, as always, an escape. The difference this time was that it had a destination. He wasn’t alone but with someone helping, and his body felt relatively at ease.

Yet, he couldn’t shake the anxiety. The tears he swallowed in front of the dozens of cameras found while cleaning the house had turned to fear. Recalling that day, Yoonjo’s hands tensed.

Paradise doesn’t exist. Knowing that, yet yearning and dreaming for it was an instinctual act, a desperate escape.

Would there really be a paradise at the end of this road? He recalled a thought from long ago. There could be no answer to such a foolish question.

Sleep wouldn’t come, nor did he have the energy to talk. Throughout the drive, Yoonjo only occasionally answered Yoon Chaemin’s questions, otherwise keeping silent.

At the rest area, he swallowed motion sickness pills instead of food. His stomach felt uneasy, probably from the tension.

As they neared the destination, his condition worsened. Anxiety grew. His face was as pale as someone sick for days. Yoon Chaemin’s face, watching him, was full of worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine…… Urgh.”

His habitual “I’m fine” was cut off by a dry heave. With a small sigh, Yoon Chaemin handed him an opened electrolyte drink.

“If it’s too hard, we can rest. There’s no rush.”

“I’m fine. I can handle it.”

Resting wouldn’t improve his state, and the real hardship was Yoon Chaemin’s, driving for hours without a break. For his sake, it was better to keep going.

At Yoonjo’s insistence, Yoon Chaemin reluctantly drove on. The passenger, eyes tightly shut, tried to quell the churning in his stomach.

After driving for a while, familiar rural scenery began to fill the view. Utterly exhausted, Yoonjo leaned heavily against the seat, taking in the passing landscape.

The car, rattling along a dirt road, stopped in front of a familiar blue gate. Yoon Chaemin got out first after turning off the engine, and Yoonjo followed.

Holding the car door, Yoonjo looked at the house beyond the gate. Nothing had changed in this rural home where a child and an elder lived.

“Let’s go in.”

“W-Wait a second.”

As Yoon Chaemin reached for the gate, Yoonjo’s pale face stopped him urgently.

Fear surged. Was it okay to go in? Did he even deserve to? He had followed as told, but now, facing those people, he was terrified.

Because of him, Yoon Chaemin had been dragged into trouble. He had left without a word and now returned without a word. He deserved their resentment.

“Mr. Lee Yoonjo.”

“Just, just a moment…….”

Knowing it was all his fault, he was still scared. He feared their blame. It was a ridiculous excuse. If he had done wrong, he should apologize, but the path to that felt unbearably heavy.

His body, clutching his chest, slumped forward. As he nearly collapsed, Yoon Chaemin quickly supported him.

“Are you okay?”

Yoonjo swallowed and exhaled trembling breaths repeatedly. As if unaware of who he was leaning on, he struggled to pull himself together.

“What’s all this noise—”

The gate opened then. A familiar voice slipped through the creaking door.

Yoonjo froze, even forgetting to breathe, his movements stilled. His wide eyes fixed on the person emerging from the gate. The elder mirrored his gaze.

“You, you…….”

The elder, unseen for who knows how long, looked exactly as Yoonjo remembered.

The elder’s finger pointed at Yoonjo. Feeling everything crumble, Yoonjo was struck by the hurt he read in the elder’s eyes.

“I, I’m sor—”

As he stepped back, the elder strode forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. The strength was unbelievable for an elder.

His startled eyes widened. His hands, awkwardly floating, froze in place, unable to move.

“You punk…….”

“…….”

“Where, where have you been all this time, you punk?”

The elder’s voice trembled with faint tears. Yoonjo’s eyes drooped, heavy with worry.

Tears quickly welled up. The overwhelming relief was so great that his trembling lips couldn’t close.

Biting his lip hard, the tears pooling in his closed eyelids soaked the elder’s clothes.

“……I’m sorry.”

Burying his face in the elder’s shoulder, Yoonjo swallowed his sobs. As if atoning, he apologized again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…….”

“…….”

“I’m sorry for coming back…….”

The elder asked nothing. He simply held Yoonjo tightly, patting his back. The steady rhythm resembled a heartbeat. The rough touch was kind and warm.

“You did well to come back. You did well.”

“Ugh…….”

“You’re alive, that’s enough. That’s all that matters.”

His eyelids slowly closed. Clinging to the elder’s shoulders, Yoonjo let his tears flow.

He felt so sorry to the elder who said he did well to come back, who said it was enough that he was alive. He was grateful, yet beneath it all was guilt. He couldn’t stop the tears.

“Grandpa…….”

A sleepy child’s voice came from inside. Yoonjo’s head shot up. The owner of the voice appeared at the gate. The child, wearing oversized slippers, widened their eyes.

“Oppa……?”

The child’s clear eyes, spotting Yoonjo, filled with tears clearer than ever. A dimple formed on their small chin, and they burst into loud sobs, running to Yoonjo.

“Oppa!”

The child clung to Yoonjo’s legs. The warmth of a person flooded over him. The once-cold body was wrapped in the child’s heat. Their cries were sadder than ever.

“You left Chaei alone, where, where did you go, oppa……! Chaei was waiting……!”

“…….”

“You’re bad, oppa. Really bad!”

Small fists pounded Yoonjo’s legs. The weak punches, so tiny, carried no force.

The child’s resentment deepened his guilt. His lips, hesitating, finally made a sound.

“……I’m sorry.”

The apology was so small it could barely be heard without straining.

“I’m sorry.”

How could he repay this debt? Not a debt of money, but of the heart—what could settle it?

He had incurred another debt. To them, he was nothing but a sinner. Yet, he loathed himself for shamelessly showing his face.

“I’m sorry.”

The apologies continued endlessly. Even as Yoon Chaemin put an arm around his shoulder, Yoonjo repeated “I’m sorry” as if it were the only thing he could do.

A weathered hand gently stroked the head of the child, exhausted from crying and now asleep. Even in sleep, the child didn’t loosen their grip on Yoonjo’s clothes.

“So, what happened?”

Yoonjo, looking down at the child, raised his head. The elder across from him had a furrowed, hardened face.

“Well…….”

Where should he begin? Tracing back the past, Yoonjo’s lips stayed shut, unable to open.

Going further back, there was the day of the accident. And Yoon Chaemin had been there too.

“You didn’t even get porridge to eat, did you? Starving yourself…….”

Tsk, tsk. The elder’s tongue-clicking carried pity. Patting the child’s back gently, Yoonjo gave a faint smile.

The child in his arms was warm, the room’s air was cozy, and the elder’s worry and care were tender. There was no trace of coldness anywhere.

It finally felt like coming home. Though he knew it wasn’t his house, it strangely felt as comforting as one.

“……You disappeared without a word, and all sorts of thoughts crossed my mind.”

“…….”

“Were you eating, sleeping well, or… were you dead somewhere?”

The elder’s face, recounting his thoughts, was dark. Unable to meet his gaze, Yoonjo quietly lowered his eyes.

“I thought as long as you were alive, that’s all that mattered. You’re back now, so it’s all fine. Everything’s fine.”

He had been too busy taking care of himself. There was no time to think of others or worry about them. After being caught in the man’s grip again, Yoonjo had struggled just to manage himself.

Hearing the elder’s words, his thoughts multiplied. Even if it was unavoidable, he could have at least thought of them. He bit his dry lips.

A brief silence followed. The only sound was the child’s steady breathing.