By Zephyria 
“Jiha, just because someone is an adult doesn’t mean they always make wise decisions. In fact, as people get older, their stubbornness—the inability to admit they are wrong—often grows stronger. That day, you just wanted to help your grandmother, didn’t you?”
I really wanted to do a good job. I wanted to find Grandmother’s precious ring, and I hoped her sharp gaze would soften even just a little. I hoped Father would stop fighting with Grandmother.
“You did your best. You don’t need to be hurt because of your grandmother’s immature judgment.”
“But because of me, Father and Grandmother…”
“Did Father say he regretted adopting you? Has he ever once blamed you?”
He hadn’t. Father had sighed over the events of that day, but he had held him in his unchangingly warm arms.
Jeil Heon sat up. A slow voice flowed from between his slightly parted lips.
“There was something a Hubae asked me for a long time ago. He asked me to hide a jewel safely with him.”
“A real jewel?”
“Hmm, something like that.”
It must have been a metaphor. Jiha didn’t know why the topic had suddenly shifted, but he listened attentively without showing it. Just as the man had listened to his own story.
“It was a very precious jewel, so hiding it wasn’t an easy task. There were people who tried to break the jewel, and people who tried to steal it for themselves. But neither he nor I knew how to hide this jewel safely. The Hubae told me he would find a way and left the jewel with me, and then he vanished.”
“He left it with you and ran away?”
“He died.”
“Ah…”
“I only found out he had died later.”
If they had been close enough to exchange such a request, one would expect a deep bond, yet his voice as he spoke of the Hubae’s death was dry and cracked. It was as if he were intentionally stripping away all emotion. Jiha’s eyes widened at this dryness, something he was feeling from Jeil Heon for the first time.
“…That jewel.”
Even within that parched voice, the single word referring to the jewel sounded strained, as if it were breaking a blade that had blocked his airway.
“While trying to hide that jewel for a short while, I lost everything I had. And even then, it wasn’t complete. One day, it will inevitably be revealed to the world. It will be proven that the Hubae’s death and everything I lost were nothing more than buying a brief amount of time.”
“…”
“Why did the Hubae have to die? Why did I have to throw everything away? Was our choice meaningless? If so, what was my life…”
This was the terror of Jeil Heon, who bore his burdens alone.
Even while conveying such agonizing anguish, his dry voice held no trace of sentiment. Paradoxically, that was why the pain he must have endured flickered faintly into view. …Perhaps this was related to his disappearance.
“…Are you still very scared?”
Jeil Heon smiled as he looked back at Yoo Jiha. With that alone, the arid atmosphere surrounding him vanished.
“Because I’ve come to see what happened to the jewel I hadn’t seen in so long, and what lies within it. The jewel, which was already beautiful, has become even more lovely, Jiha.”
He knew. Even if Jeil Heon’s gaze was currently on him, what he was truly seeing was the ‘jewel,’ and that loveliness was directed toward the ‘jewel.’ And yet, a resonance surged from within his chest and spread throughout his entire body.
When had the pounding of his heart changed its color?
“So, I decided that instead of spending time being afraid, I would look around my surroundings one more time. I don’t know if I can find a way or how long I can delay it, but I’m going to try my best.”
“…”
“I lost everything for the sake of the jewel, but I have never once regretted it. Your father probably feels similarly. He gained the love that is you.”
“…Do you really think so?”
“Of course. You know better than anyone that your father loves you.”
A surge of warmth from deep within his chest spread like a ripple, overwhelming his heart, his throat, and his eyes all at once. Yoo Jiha blinked, trying his best to suppress the stinging tremble in his eyes.
He had never doubted his parents’ love. And yet, the small child within his heart, who had been isolated on that winter night, seemed to have wanted someone to confirm that love. The desperate wish of a small child who hadn’t committed a foolish mistake, but had truly wanted to do well.
The man chuckled softly, saying it was a bit embarrassing to reveal his inner thoughts. It was a first for him as well—to convey something he had held alone to another person. Even at this moment, the man brought out the anguish that drove him to the brink solely to comfort Jiha.
…It had to be this person. Yoo Jiha finally heard the whisper of his heart becoming vivid. He wanted confirmation from this person. From the person who willingly came to save him and embraced his solitude, telling him it wasn’t his fault.
As if to refresh the heavy atmosphere, Jeil Heon playfully patted Yoo Jiha’s cheek.
“You’re so admirable, our Jiha. Even though it must have been hard, you grew up to be such a kind and upright adult. I’m falling for you all over again.”
Yoo Jiha cleared his throat a few times to hide his slightly hoarse voice.
“All over again?”
“I told you I fell for you at first sight.”
“Wasn’t that just the usual bullshit you always say…?”
“Haha.”
Without denying that he talked bullshit, Jeil Heon sat up.
“But are you sure I don’t have to pay for the room? I don’t have money right now, but once my salary comes in, I can pay this month’s rent too. I’m rich once I get paid.”
“Save that money and do something you want to do later.”
“Still. Didn’t you replace all the furniture in my room? That must have cost a lot of money…”
“You’re giving me something far more precious than that kind of money.”
“Is there such a thing?”
Blinking in confusion, Yoo Jiha suddenly gasped at the sensation on his lips. Jeil Heon’s index finger was gently pressing against his lips.
“My name, heard from here.”
“…”
“You are the only person who allows me to live as a human, Jiha. As long as you call my name, you are entitled to possess everything I have.”
The man’s voice, spreading softly against his ear, occupied his mind as if dominating it. Only my voice defines him, and his voice reaches only me. A premonition, more fierce than the moment he realized this feeling was excitement, swept through his chest. Down to the deepest parts of his heart that he had revealed to the man for the first time.
The man leaned over. As a dark shadow fell over him, everything—from the faint moonlight shining in the night sky to the lights between the alleys—was blocked out. Darkness descended. Like Room 404 where he met him. Like the darkness he was in with him.
A firm hand with long fingers cradled his cheek. The hand of the man who had intensely colored Yoo Jiha’s interior with a single sentence was, by contrast, cautious. Jeil Heon lowered his head and kissed the crown of his head. Precious and lovely, as if handling an incomparably rare treasure.
“…”
Jeil Heon’s lips opened and closed a few times, then departed, leaving only a thin breath behind. One might wonder what he was trying to say, but Yoo Jiha couldn’t think of anything.
He finally understood what that premonition, which swirled louder than a storm and hotter than a flame, was. The first realization of his life did not strike his head dramatically, nor did it scream loudly as a vivid epiphany. Nevertheless, Yoo Jiha could tell. The shape that had been secretly sprouting since the time of that excitement, and perhaps even before then. Something that became deeper within that profound darkness.
The name of this was love.
It had been a very long time since he had a dream.
Jiha, you have to listen to me. Mommy will definitely protect you. Leaving only those words, his mother disappeared, and in the child’s world, which had turned white, only the man remained.
Now, even the man was about to leave.
〈Mommy and Daddy didn’t come back either… Are you not coming too?〉
The man inhaled at the sorrowful sobbing. Before the child, who felt the agony dwelling in that breath, could become more anxious, the man met his eyes.
〈Next time we meet, I might have become a scary monster.〉
〈Uh-huh…〉
〈No. What Jiha is afraid of… back then, Jiha… then…〉
The man’s pupils, his voice, his warmth, swallowed and swallowed and swallowed the child, enveloping him. So that not a single strand of hair could escape, so that not a single piece of breath could leak out, so that no one could glimpse his soul.
Trapped inside, the child finally became safe.
And then, death descended, accompanied by a smile that seemed to rip the mouth open.
Waking from the dream, Yoo Jiha stared blankly at the ceiling. The dream he had for the first time in a long while floated in his consciousness. It was a dream he used to have occasionally when he was young. It was strange that the same content always repeated, but he considered it a meaningless random dream. The kind of dream where he could run and hug his parents, whining that he had a strange dream today.
As he grew, the frequency gradually decreased, and the dream he had forgotten for years resurfaced. Up to that point, it was fine. It was merely a dream that caused no harm to his physical well-being. The problem was…