SMFC | Chapter 36

If it were Haeon’s usual personality, he would’ve told Lee Soo to take it easy and go on ahead without a second thought. Then, he’d be left behind, nibbling away at the desserts Lee Soo bought for him while waiting indefinitely for Lee Soo to return.

But now, an inexplicable sense of unease clung to Haeon, gripping his ankles tightly, refusing to let go. It left him standing there like a child who didn’t know how to take a step forward alone, staring blankly.

Lee Soo, who had been waiting for Ji Hasin to finally say something after his prolonged hesitation, turned to Haeon and asked why he hadn’t gone up yet. Haeon had no answer for that question, and he blinked in confusion, caught off guard.

Still. Just standing there.

Seeing Haeon looking so out of it, Lee Soo frowned slightly, stepping closer. He gently placed a hand on Haeon’s forehead and cheek, checking his temperature. Was he running a fever? But no—his skin was merely lukewarm.

“Are you feeling unwell? You don’t have to wait. Go ahead and head up first.”

“It’s just that—”

That’s not it. Before Haeon could finish his sentence, Ji Hasin suddenly lifted his head, as if he’d made up his mind to speak. Grabbing onto Lee Soo’s sleeve, his face was a tangled mess of nervous tension as he whispered:

“I like you. I wanted to say it… I mean it, let’s date. I want to be in a relationship with you, Leesoo-nim.”

His final words, daring and bold as if all his nervous trembling had been a lie, left Lee Soo with an ambiguous smile. Hearing the confession, Lee Soo found himself thinking: looking back on all of Hasin’s past actions, it seemed like his feelings for him had been evident all along.

Dating. Loving someone. Finding a reason to live just one more day. It didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

But even so, at least for now, no reason to live like that came to Lee Soo’s mind. From the beginning, this life was one whose ending he could see. And since that was the case, he had resolved from the start to dedicate everything from the beginning to the end to Haeon.

He had no room in his life to take responsibility for someone else, no thought of doing so.

Just as he was about to give the obvious response, Lee Soo realized Haeon was still standing there. Pausing, he excused himself to Hasin and turned back toward Haeon.

Meeting Haeon’s gaze, which he’d naturally sought out to continue the conversation, Lee Soo’s eyes widened in slight surprise. Haeon’s pink eyes were brimming with a mixture of joy and despair, an expression almost impossible to describe.

Facing that unnameable emotion head-on, Lee Soo forgot how to speak. As if he understood exactly what Lee Soo had been about to say, Haeon left him with a brief farewell and headed straight to the dorm.

Inside the narrow elevator, Haeon remained blank, but his face was sharper and clearer than ever before as he leaned his head lightly against the wall.

He was thirsty. The moment he heard someone else confess to Lee Soo, it felt as though something deep within him had sentenced him to an end.

If he continued to be unaware of his feelings for Lee Soo, then someday, inevitably, he’d lose everything. It was a foregone conclusion—a sentence he couldn’t escape.

***

“Love is fleeting.”

The voice that always had a tone of sarcasm, never knowing how to speak gently, lingered in Yoo Haeon’s ears.

Yeah, love is fleeting. From the start, love was just one of those emotions humans experienced in passing while living their fleeting lives. How could something born from such impermanence have any true value?

And yet, why… why does it feel like this?

“It’s fascinating. I never thought I’d be the one to get confessed to. You live long enough, and I guess things like this happen.”

Lee Soo, who had returned belatedly, kept murmuring to himself how curious it all was. Seeing his face, bright and smiling awkwardly as if it was all too much to handle, Haeon couldn’t help but wonder why something as fleeting as love seemed so dazzling and enviable.

There were many who thought highly of Lee Soo—so many that even someone like Haeon, who didn’t have many acquaintances, heard about it often. Yet, the man himself was oblivious to this fact, which was amusing in its own way. Lee Soo, ever oblivious to rumors about himself, was paradoxically all too aware of the rumors surrounding those close to him.

About how his personality was difficult. How he was subtly ostracized. How other awakened avoided him unless they were on the brink of death. How losing this guild was as good as a foregone conclusion. No matter what it was, Lee Soo knew all the bad rumors about himself.

The weight of those rumors was as light as dandelion seeds blown away by a faint breath, yet they spread easily, taking root wherever they landed. Haeon would often recall that most of those rumors were true, and he would let out a faint laugh.

Just as the smoke from Lee Soo’s lips dissipated into the air, Haeon’s faint sighs vanished into the empty space. Closing his eyes tightly as if exhausted, he opened them slowly, then asked in a languid voice:

“…Since you were confessed to, are you going to date them?”

“Hm? No. I turned them down. How could I possibly date someone? I’m not such a great person, and I don’t have much to offer. I’d be too lacking to hold onto someone who’s probably precious to someone else.”

Lee Soo shrugged as he stared curiously at the colorful macarons packed neatly in the dessert box. The reasons he gave to Haeon were valid, but the biggest reason of all was something he couldn’t say: he wasn’t Ryu Leesoo.

The Lee Soo that Ji Hasin had confessed to wasn’t just him—it was also the original Ryu Leesoo. Knowing that, he couldn’t accept those feelings. Swallowing the words he couldn’t say, Lee Soo simply smiled, his dark hair swaying gently with even the smallest of movements.

Haeon, biting into an egg tart with a complicated expression, didn’t add that the very fact Lee Soo could say such things to someone else was proof enough that he was a good person.

Feeling the creamy filling melt and cling to his tongue, Haeon lowered his gaze slightly. His long lashes fluttered down, casting shadows over his beautiful eyes.

Back in the lobby, when someone had stopped Lee Soo with flushed cheeks to say they had something to tell him, Haeon had instinctively known. Ah, they’re going to confess to Lee Soo. That realization had felt both fascinating and envious. Not envy directed at Lee Soo, but at that nameless person confessing to him.

It was like when someone who usually skipped breakfast suddenly decided, for no particular reason, that today they should eat. That they could just do something like confessing.

Haeon didn’t even know what love was. Maybe it was true what they said—that humans were naturally envious of what they couldn’t have. If so, Haeon thought, perhaps he would envy people in love until the day he died.

When the word “love” crossed Yoo Haeon’s mind, it always felt like his vision became hazy, as if a thin veil had been draped over it. Letting out a faint smile, he traced the contours of his blurry thoughts.

His lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Annoyed by his inability to speak, Haeon furrowed his brow and reached out to pick up a piece of chocolate from the spread of desserts before him.

There were so many words he knew, but none of them seemed sufficient to describe this feeling, this emotion, this moment, or that person. It was like a lightning strike—a sudden realization that left him laughing in helpless frustration. Deciding to simply swallow the frustration, Haeon resigned himself to silence.

Whatever this “something” was, it had settled in his heart like a lump, rolling around freely and stinging him from the inside.

Even though he was aware of this, he didn’t know what to call it or how to handle it. So all he could do was sit there, staring at it and metaphorically sucking his fingers.

“Hunter Ryu Leesoo is a good person,” Haeon finally said.

Ignoring all the emotions churning inside, his crumpled sincerity tumbled out instead. Whether Lee Soo understood the sentiment behind the words or not, he blinked dumbly for a moment before covering his lips and laughing.

“You’re a good person too, Healer Haeon. I even wonder why you don’t have a partner yet.”

If anyone else had said something like that, Haeon would’ve snapped at them, calling it nonsense. Instead, he licked his dry lips, a quiet chuckle escaping him. His eyes, slightly reddened as if he might cry, curved softly as he laughed faintly.

Ah, he didn’t know what it was exactly, but something inside him had collapsed. And it fell apart with a resounding crash.

After keeping silent for a long time, Haeon sighed deeply enough to make his shoulders move. Watching Lee Soo calmly pick out desserts to eat, he muttered under his breath.

“…It feels strange. The fact that Hunter Ryu Leesoo got confessed to….”

Lee Soo, who had been about to unwrap a piece of salted caramel and pop it into his mouth, paused mid-motion to glance at Haeon. Seeing Haeon leaning casually, resting his chin on his hand, and watching him, Lee Soo wrinkled his nose and smiled.

“Why? Is it because, unlike me, you haven’t gotten any confessions, Healer Haeon? Hey, don’t sulk about something like that.”

At Lee Soo’s playful whisper, Haeon mumbled that it wasn’t like that and blinked slowly, his long eyelashes fluttering gently. They moved so softly that Lee Soo thought it looked like a butterfly had delicately landed on his eyelids. He licked the caramel melting on his finger without much thought.

Even though the caramel had melted and lost its original shape, it was still sweet enough to make his tongue tingle. Maybe because it was salted caramel, it was tolerable, though Lee Soo secretly grimaced for a moment before sneaking a glance at Haeon and relaxing his expression.

“If it’s not that, then why?”

“…That’s the thing. I don’t know either. Honestly, whenever I’m around Hunter Ryu Leesoo, I feel like I’m not myself.”

“What? How is that my fault? It’s probably just because you’re experiencing things you’ve never gone through before, Healer Haeon.”

The reddish tip of Lee Soo’s tongue peeked out between his slightly flushed lips, briefly licking his pale finger. For some reason, the sight inexplicably drew Haeon’s gaze. Without realizing it, he found himself watching Lee Soo and smiling faintly.

“I guess… maybe I was just envious.”