One by One

"Not for long... just two or three days."

Liu stood in the bathroom with the door cracked open just a sliver, speaking in a low voice on the phone. He had one hand tucked into the front pocket of his robe, which was tied loosely at the waist, and swept his hair back.

"No, I'm fine now. The Pre-Opening event went well yesterday. Yeah. So... setting that aside, it's just that I want to take another two or three days."

When he mentioned staying a few more days before heading back, Manager Han seized the opportunity and didn't stop teasing him. After wrestling with her for a while, Liu finally leaned his back against the tiled wall as if surrendering. The hair he had been holding fell lightly onto his forehead. "Ha... fine. Think whatever you want and make fun of me all you like. It's because I can't bring myself to leave — my younger lover is here in Paris and keeps weighing on my mind. And I'm still worried about how sick he was. Like you said, Manager Han, I'm being overprotective. So I'll stay a few more days, and once I know he's completely healthy, I'll leave. Okay?"

A triumphant, cheerful laugh echoed from the other end of the line. Liu scrubbed his bare face vigorously, pushed himself off the wall, and quickly ended the call.

"I'll take that as your agreement, Manager Han?"

He felt like everyone, including Manager Han, was treating his relationship with Yeehyeon as something to joke about. He wasn't the type to be flustered by situations like this, but he felt strange — clumsy and off-balance in a way he couldn't account for.

Liu shook his head and was about to leave the bathroom when he paused in front of the mirror above the sink.

He slipped his phone into his robe pocket, grasped the edge of the vanity, and stroked his faintly bluish jawline. As evidence of the night's activities that had lasted until dawn, the man in the mirror had eyes clouded over and hazy, like sugar-coated donuts.

At a distance, his eyes — which looked as if they had no pupils or irises, only whites — would make anyone feel uneasy. Children would certainly scream and run away. Yeehyeon's description of them as being like "snowballs" was only possible through the filter of love.

Liu still didn't feel confident showing these eyes to Yeehyeon. They were hideous, but more than that, they had become a painful, branded mark — a reminder of what he had done to Yeehyeon.

The pain was deserved. He didn't want to forget it. Even though Yeehyeon had cleanly forgiven him, it was something Liu couldn't pretend had never happened.

He carefully closed the bathroom door and returned to the cramped kitchen. Yeehyeon was buried in a pile of soft blankets, stretching.

"You're up?"

"Mm... what time is it?"

His voice was thick with sleep. Liu sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled back the blanket that half-covered Yeehyeon's face.

"A little past ten. You can sleep more, but should I make you some coffee?"

Yeehyeon peeked out from under the covers and looked up at Liu, nodding. At his gaze — which landed on Liu's white eyes — Liu rubbed the back of his neck and quickly got up.

When he returned with the large mug of lightly brewed hand-drip coffee, Yeehyeon was sitting up. His upper body, revealed outside the white bedding, was beautiful even through Liu's blurry vision.

In just over a month, Yeehyeon's body had become firmer and leaner. His physique, at the peak of youth, was starting to look more like a young man than a boy.

Last night, Yeehyeon had been pleasantly drunk and had become more candid than usual in a short amount of time. Recalling his bold seduction, Liu immediately felt a heavy sensation between his legs. His cock stirred inside the underwear that was the only thing he wore besides his robe.

Even as a boy, he had never been this defenseless against sexual stimulation. The reaction was as immediate as if he had been exposed to the pheromones of a powerful Golden Omega. This was because Yeehyeon was Diamond Dust.

The more they had been entangled, the stronger his influence became, and the stimulation was even more immediate now with the lingering afterglow still in his body. The taut, dense pheromones were circulating rapidly through his veins. They were in a state where they could ignite at any moment and lunge at each other.

To shake off the arousal, Liu cleared his throat and handed the mug to Yeehyeon. He bent over to give him a morning kiss on the forehead and tried to turn away, but Yeehyeon grabbed his wrist.

"Aren't you going to drink with me?"

"I was getting ready to make pancakes."

"You don't have to... and you can barely see yet."

Yeehyeon lowered the corners of his eyes and stroked Liu's wrist with his thumb.

Even without being told, Yeehyeon had always been bothered by Liu's overly solicitous care that followed sex as a matter of course. Even though they had been thoroughly tangled together the night before, Yeehyeon's body was perfectly dry this morning.

What's more, he had no memory of anything that happened after the second knotting this morning. He couldn't tell whether Liu had taken him to the bathroom to wash him or dried his body with a towel.

"This is a familiar place. If I'm careful, I can manage that much."

"I like the pancakes Kun makes, so I'm happy to have them, but..."

Liu ruffled Yeehyeon's hair, which was showing an apologetic expression, and tied the front flaps of his robe with the belt.

"Have some coffee and wake up a bit. The batter is already made — I just need to cook it."

Liu retreated to the kitchen counter as if fleeing. Before calling Manager Han, he scooped the pre-mixed batter into a frying pan and shaped it into rounds, trying desperately to concentrate on anything other than Yeehyeon.

"Did you have all the ingredients?"

"......"

As if unaware of his efforts, Yeehyeon approached from behind, rested his chin on Liu's shoulder, and looked down at the frying pan. He, too, was wearing a robe.

"I went shopping before the party yesterday. I wanted to make you breakfast."

They both realized at the same time that this comment implied he had been certain there would be sex after the party.

Yeehyeon pressed his forehead against Liu's shoulder, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Am I being too obvious?"

Yeehyeon bit his lower lip and shook his head.

"You should still be recovering — go wait at the table? It'll be ready soon."

"Why do you keep trying to stay away from me?"

There was a dull ache below Yeehyeon's waist and a slight stinging sensation between his legs. However, it wasn't so bad that moving around in the small room was difficult.

Yeehyeon gently wrapped his arms around Liu's waist as Liu unnecessarily pressed down on the pancakes — which were cooking perfectly well on their own — with a silicone spatula.

"Is it because of your eyes? I like them. You're beautiful enough that I want to keep looking."

Liu turned the induction dial to low and turned around.

"I get aroused."

"......"

"Like I'm a teenager. Just you coming near me..."

Liu stopped there, let out a sigh, and ran a hand through his bangs, feeling pathetic. Then, with a resigned whatever-happens-happens attitude, he guided Yeehyeon's hand to his crotch.

"This is what happens."

"Ah..."

Yeehyeon understood Liu's awkwardness upon feeling the distinct shape and warmth beneath the robe — soft yet firm, unmistakably present. That explained why Liu had been clutching the front of his robe so tightly, unlike usual.

Yeehyeon looked up at Liu's pale eyes for a moment and then suddenly asked.

"This is because I'm Didi, isn't it?"

"Because you're Didi, and because you're Seo Yeehyeon."

He recalled someone grumbling during the drinking party with The Hands colleagues last night that Liu only ever spoke the absolute truth. Yeehyeon felt he had no choice but to agree.

"There's something I want to ask..."

Yeehyeon hesitated before starting.

Liu quickly flipped the three pancakes cooking simultaneously in the large frying pan, then turned back to Yeehyeon.

"The person who underwent the Changing... or anyone who even attempted it once — there hasn't been anyone until now, right?"

"......"

Liu bit down lightly on his lower lip and slowly nodded.

Yeehyeon gazed intently into Liu's hazy eyes, then caressed his cheek and kissed him there. Afterward, without a word, he quietly went to the dining table and began clearing away the laptops, tablets, and art books so they could set the table.

Liu, blankly rubbing the spot where he had been kissed while watching Yeehyeon, slowly turned and hurried to prepare the meal.

The breakfast spread was quite generous — pancakes served alongside thick, grilled Scottish salmon, orange juice from a nearby organic shop, and avocado salad.

To Yeehyeon, who admired it and thanked him, Liu said humbly,

"It might look impressive, but these are all things I can make without much effort."

Seated across the corner of the table from Yeehyeon, he poured orange juice into two glasses.

"If your condition isn't too bad, how about we go for a walk in the nearby park after breakfast? I can just wear sunglasses."

Yeehyeon paused, his hand mid-cut on a piece of pancake, gazed at Liu for a moment, and then nodded.

He thought he understood the reason behind the suggestion. It was likely Liu's attempt to restrain himself, knowing that if they stayed alone in this room, he would probably try to have sex.

Since it was Sunday and Liu was in Paris, they had agreed to skip work that morning. Yeehyeon would have liked to just linger around the room until the afternoon work session, but he didn't want to ignore Liu's effort.

They ate leisurely, exchanging various disjointed stories: about the pieces revealed at the party, the personalities of the colleagues they had mingled with the night before, and even a review of the sex they had immediately upon returning to Room 601 — like hungry people tearing off each other's clothes and wrestling together, heating up from the very first moment. About an hour passed.

Around the time the plates were mostly empty, Liu used the excuse that it was Sunday to open a bottle of dessert wine. Pushing the plates aside, he poured the pale yellow wine into two glasses and offered one to Yeehyeon.

"When I spoke briefly with Yuni yesterday, she seemed to vaguely think that the conflict between us stemmed from the issue of you coming to The Hands."

After finishing the meal completely and wiping his mouth with a napkin, Yeehyeon nodded as he brought the wine to his lips.

Yeehyeon had also vaguely guessed what Yuni was thinking. From an outside perspective, since there was nothing else obvious that could have caused problems between the two of them, it wasn't unreasonable for speculation to lean that way.

"Keeping quiet about what happened between us, not telling Yuni or anyone else... that must be inconvenient for you. Once the Changing is fully complete, you'll have to let people know you've become an Omega, and if you say it was a natural manifestation, that too becomes a lie."

Liu had consistently urged Yeehyeon to tell the people around them — at least those who wouldn't carelessly spread the word even if Liu's Ghost status were revealed — about the Changing.

The scope of the confession also included the fact that Liu had proceeded with the Changing while keeping it secret from Yeehyeon. Yeehyeon had been delaying the decision because he wasn't entirely comfortable with it.

"Then I'll have to reveal that Kun is Ghost too — is that all right with you?"

"Clarifying the wrong I committed against you is more important."

Liu's expression was calm; he had resolved himself to this long ago. He had always maintained that the people around him had a right to know his true self. Yeehyeon understood how much debt Liu felt toward him and others, but he held a slightly different opinion.

He didn't consider the initial, unilateral Changing to be Liu's true nature. If such darkness were his essence, Yeehyeon couldn't have resolved to try making things work with him again. If anything, it felt more like an unprecedented derailment that had drastically strayed from the track of Liu Weikun.

"I don't like the idea of other people — besides the person directly involved — seeing Awi differently because of this."

Yeehyeon traced the rim of the diamond-shaped dessert wine glass and looked down at Liu's left hand resting on the table.

"Of course, everyone around us is kind and will judge wisely... but you don't have an obligation to tell everyone about a mistake made in a romantic relationship. If I had intended to resolve this issue publicly, I wouldn't have taken Awi back in the first place."

Liu's determination to pay some kind of price could, viewed differently, be self-satisfaction. If his own happiness was truly his top priority, Yeehyeon sincerely hoped he wouldn't expand the issue any further.

Yeehyeon took a sip of wine but couldn't quite taste it.

"If revealing it to others leads to another problem, then aside from Awi, I will suffer again myself... and that's not for my sake. It would just mean suffering twice because of the Changing."

Liu, who had been listening intently with a serious expression, let out a low groan and nodded. It was less a sign of complete agreement than an acknowledgment that he understood Yeehyeon's feelings. He downed the remaining half of the wine in his small glass in one gulp.

"I've tried many times to figure out who I least want to tell about the Changing. To discover my own honest feelings."

"......"

"Because telling the person I least want to tell could be a punishment for me."

Liu reached out and gently covered the back of Yeehyeon's hand resting on the table.

"I understand what you're saying. It makes no sense to trouble you just to ease my own guilt. But... thinking about our future, I think it would be good to tell at least two people."

Yeehyeon looked directly at Liu's face. In the late morning sunlight pouring through the long window that covered the entire wall facing the street, Liu's pale, shining eyes brought snowfields to mind.

"One of them is probably Manager Han. The other one is..."

"My mother... I plan to tell Suki Kim. If you're okay with it, I'm planning to stop briefly in Hong Kong on my way back to Seoul this time."

Liu spoke cautiously, gauging Yeehyeon's reaction. Yeehyeon's expression crumpled sharply with unconcealed surprise and worry. His gaze wavered, and a faint sound escaped his parted lips.

Yeehyeon knew the efforts Suki Kim had made and the sacrifices she had endured precisely so that her son — a Ghost — would not make such a mistake. He could fully anticipate the disappointment she would feel toward her son upon learning the situation.

Liu gripped Yeehyeon's hand tightly.

"The person I least wanted to be discovered by. And at the same time, the person I most wanted to confess to, has found out. After this... I'm not afraid of anything else. Whatever outcome I face will just be paying the price for the sins I've committed."

The person he least wanted to be discovered by, and simultaneously the person he most wanted to confess to.

Even just from the way Liu gazed at him deeply, Yeehyeon knew Liu was talking about him. Wrapping his fingers around Liu's fingers clasped over his hand, Yeehyeon nodded heavily.

He had wanted the issue confined strictly between Liu Weikun and Seo Yeehyeon, but he couldn't deny that he understood Liu's guilt. Perhaps this was the bare minimum effort required for Liu to survive without utterly despising himself — to somehow embrace his own identity and keep living. Yeehyeon knew he couldn't try to control even that.

Due to the weight of the conversation they had just shared, the two cleaned up their meal and prepared to go out in a somewhat subdued atmosphere.

Even though the weather was clear, the morning temperature was still around five degrees Celsius. Liu, who had put on a casually designed coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck, stopped Yeehyeon, who was about to leave the room without gloves, and carefully put them on for him.

"You were sick just a few days ago — you can't let your guard down just because you feel a little better."

After putting on the gloves, he glanced sideways at Yeehyeon and also packed a thermos of warm coffee.

As they stood side-by-side before stepping outside, wearing sunglasses and each holding a thermos, they looked like the protagonists of an action-comedy film. On the way to the park, Yeehyeon chuckled several times.

Among the several entrances, the two went into Parc des Buttes-Chaumont through the gate near the 19th arrondissement. Buttes-Chaumont — whose name means "small hill" — was a park of continuous large and small mounds, and Yeehyeon felt more attached to it than to the larger Parc de la Villette nearby.

The two began walking slowly along the promenade that circled the lake.

The park was quite lively with people enjoying the rare sunny Sunday. For the locals who loved to come out for walks or to read whenever the sun shone, even in midwinter, a temperature of around five degrees Celsius was no obstacle.

Although Yeehyeon considered himself quite resistant to the cold and thought the winters here were mild compared to Korea's, reading a book in the park in midwinter like a true Parisian was still too much. He had tried a few times, but whenever he sat still without moving and focused on his book, he felt the chill freeze him to the core regardless of the actual temperature. After just ten minutes, his fingertips turning pages would become stiff and tremble.

Instead, until autumn, he used to visit often with his The Hands colleagues, Yuni, or Michelle to drink beer or eat a simple lunch of sandwiches from a nearby shop right there in the park. It was also a place where he often came alone to stroll or sketch.

The fact that he was walking here with Liu struck Yeehyeon as something entirely new. This moment even felt like a miracle obtained after enduring a harsh winter. Even if that was a slightly sentimental exaggeration, it was clear this was not a piece of luck or happiness easily acquired.

Thanks to the temperature rarely dropping below freezing, the lawn remained green even after winter. Though not a large number, some people were sitting or lying on the grass, soaking up the sun. A couple who had brought their toddler who had just started walking sat on the grass, heads leaned against each other's shoulders, watching their child with smiles that seemed to encompass the whole world.

Within the roughly five hundred meters they had walked from the entrance, they had already spotted at least three same-sex couples with children. Even without children in tow, there was another same-sex couple whose hands were clasped together while each holding a thermos — Liu and Yeehyeon themselves.

"One of the things I've noticed since coming here is how many same-sex couples have children."

Yeehyeon said this, his gaze following the wobbly back of a child crawling and walking freely on the grass.

Whether they were couples with the same primary gender who had adopted children, or same-gender Alpha-Omega couples, he couldn't know for certain. But either way, it wasn't common.

"The social atmosphere is probably more flexible than in Korea. It must be a little easier for same-gender Alpha-Omega couples to form and live as part of society in their own way."

There were certainly people here who clung stubbornly to conservative attitudes, like Nicholas's father. But as Liu had said, the overall social atmosphere was undeniably more open.

"The ratio might be similar in Korea — they just hide it and live that way because they can't reveal it."

Liu added this while taking a sip of coffee from his thermos, and Yeehyeon nodded.

Once Yeehyeon fully became an Omega and was officially registered, Liu and Yeehyeon would be able to legally marry in most major cities worldwide, including Seoul. As Liu had said when he proposed in Chicago, they wouldn't need to go through the hassle of finding cities that recognized the marriage of same-gender couples with matching primary genders.

Regardless of whether they were actually considering marriage, the issue of whether one's identity was recognized and accepted by society was important.

As Yeehyeon followed Liu off the walking path and onto a gently sloping grassy hill, he thought of the people he had met through "Late Blooming." Most of them struggled not because of their own standards for their new gender, but because of the prejudice and discrimination from those around them and from society.

Passing by people scattered on the grass, they reached another walking path at the top of the hill. Yeehyeon tightened his grip on Liu's hand and said,

"Um... yesterday was the first time I felt my own pheromones."

"...Ah."

Liu made a sound like he was in pain and stopped walking. Although his eyes couldn't be seen through his sunglasses, his face looked as if he had walked directly into something solid.

To make way for a woman jogging past from behind, Liu pulled Yeehyeon's hand to the side of the path. He placed his thermos on a bench, then took Yeehyeon by both shoulders, his brow furrowed.

"Why... didn't you tell me right away?"

"Because we were both completely drenched in pheromones and on the verge of knotting?"

"......"

Yeehyeon replied with a slight smile. Liu awkwardly wiped his mouth. Then, from behind his sunglasses, he peered into Yeehyeon's face. The hands on his shoulders were pressing with a nearly painful intensity. After a long moment, he wrapped his arms around Yeehyeon's shoulders and pulled him into an embrace.

"Weren't you scared?"

Yeehyeon shook his head at the worried tone.

To keep his unsettled emotions from showing to Yeehyeon, Liu composed his expression before finally letting go.

The two settled onto a bench. Below the hill, they could see the lake and the island rising high in its center. Gazing at the pavilion atop the cliff-like island, Yeehyeon took off his gloves and held his thermos.

"I'd always felt Kun's pheromones before, and I knew my own pheromones were reacting — becoming more aroused when I smelled his scent. But that was indirect perception. Yesterday, I knew: this is my pheromone, my pheromones are flowing out of me right now."

Liu leaned forward, concentrating on Yeehyeon. His furrowed brow still seemed to carry worry that Yeehyeon might be shocked or frightened.

However, Yeehyeon felt a sense of relief rather than fear. It was an effect happening within his own body, yet he hadn't been able to actually feel it, which had been quite frustrating until now. It felt like his vision was finally clearing a bit.

"It's hard to put into words precisely... but if I had to find the closest feeling... it's like I became a speaker? Like sound waves are spreading through my body..."

"......"

"Don't make that face. The starting point was Kun, but the outcome was my choice. It's not Awi's fault that I'm Didi."

Liu's expression did not lighten easily. He found Yeehyeon's hand wrapped around the thermos and held it.

"Let's go to the hospital together. From now on, I'll come here once a month, so it would be best if we went then. You need a proper examination and a prescription for suppressants suited to your progress."

"Hmm, I don't know if we can get a hospital appointment that quickly. It's fine if I go alone."

Liu was scheduled to leave on Wednesday, so he only had tomorrow and the day after. Specialized medical institutions for Alpha-Omega pheromone care were not abundant here either, so an appointment that soon seemed unlikely.

Liu took off his gloves, put them in his coat pocket, and then, with a slight hesitation, took Yeehyeon's hand again and fiddled with his fingers.

"Actually... I pushed it back two days."

"......"

"Don't be angry, Yeehyeon-ah. Okay?"

Yeehyeon intertwined his fingers with the fingers on Liu's ringed hand and shook his head.

"I'm not angry. Why would I be angry? I want to spend more time together too... I feel the same way."

Yeehyeon knew that once the construction was finished, Inwu's solo exhibition would follow along with the reopening event. But sometimes he just wanted to be honest about his feelings. He didn't want Liu to misunderstand, thinking he hated jealousy or would be angry if a schedule was pushed back.

"There will be more things to worry about than when you lived as a male Beta."

Tension was evident in Liu's voice.

"I know. I looked into everything, and I made up my mind only after thoroughly considering whether I could handle it... and whether it would be worth it. We've had a long time together, haven't we?"

As Liu stroked Yeehyeon's cheek with the back of his hand, he also managed a strained smile.

"So I also know that once I become an Omega, your Alpha instincts will be stimulated, and you'll become bound to me."

Yeehyeon was referring to the Alpha's protective instinct that manifests toward an Omega with whom they have had continuous relations and exchanged pheromones.

In modern times, where Alphas and Omegas alike took suppressants to control pheromone exposure, this had become almost vestigial — an outdated relic.

No Alpha wanted to be bound to another, and Omegas also found it burdensome. The trend was to enjoy pheromones with a one-night encounter but refrain from exposure in continuous relationships. To avoid being tied down.

"Of course, I'm talking about when we're continuously exchanging pheromones during sex."

"I want that."

Liu's response was immediate. Tightening his grip on Yeehyeon's hand, he emphasized,

"I want to live a life continuously exposed to your pheromones... a life centered around you."

Was it out of guilt? Was becoming an Alpha bound to Yeehyeon a way to atone for the sin of the Changing? For a moment he felt the impulse to ask, but Yeehyeon dismissed the question himself. He already knew the answer.

He knew Liu would have resolved to live such a life even without the influence of pheromones. Yeehyeon understood that this did not necessarily mean a life of extreme sacrifice or subjugation.

"I'm going to try hard to become a Golden."

Liu nodded minimally, as if he had anticipated Yeehyeon's decision.

"It probably won't be too difficult for you. I'll help with anything I can."

Silence stretched between them for a long time. Neither of them turned their gazes toward the surrounding scenery. Facing each other, they communicated without pheromones from behind their sunglasses, looking at each other as if looking at themselves.

Liu's lips, once cold, turned warmly and unreservedly toward Yeehyeon.

"Perhaps it's an unavoidable inferiority complex toward Betas..."

"......"

"I wanted to have sex with you without pheromones. I've always been curious what that would feel like."

Yeehyeon thought he vaguely understood the meaning behind those words.

Once the Changing was complete and he became a full Omega, pheromone control would become possible — either through the regulation of a Golden, or through suppressants. If that happened, perhaps sex without pheromones — something that could never have occurred between Ghost and Diamond Dust — might become possible.

Liu gently stroked the back of Yeehyeon's hand with his thumb, then took off his sunglasses. Yeehyeon was momentarily startled enough to stop breathing, but he quickly calmed himself and focused only on Liu.

"Even so... even after becoming an Omega, I want to Change under the influence of your pheromones. I want to Change."

Meeting Liu's white eyes — perhaps revealed in the bright sunlight for the first time — Yeehyeon recalled the day his great-uncle had visited.

I want to change. That night, when they had revealed their inner thoughts through nothing but metaphors.

He was beginning to understand, even if only a little, that to live the life he wanted and become the person he wanted to be, he had to break his own silence and raise his voice himself.

He would mend the sharp cracks and rebuild trust, making it even stronger. On that, at least, he believed in Liu.

Seeing Liu squinting against the brightness, Yeehyeon put the sunglasses back on him and said,

"Actually... there's a place I'd like Awi to go for me."

The high-pitched laughter of a child drifted up from the bottom of the hill. The scarf around his neck felt a little tight. The texture of the air was definitely different from midwinter. Slowly, without ever losing its way, the season was changing.

· DONGHAE ·

Liu woke up before the alarm. For a while, he lay there listening to the sound of the waves. Then he got out of bed, pulled a T-shirt over his head, and walked over to the minibar. He brewed a cup of coffee using a drip bag from the selection provided and headed toward the window. Around the horizon, just before sunrise, the sky was beginning to soak in a piercing blue and violet hue. Though the weather was overcast, the light seeped through the clouds with even greater intensity.

The fact that one could watch the sunrise over the East Sea from the guest room window was perhaps the only redeeming quality of this old hotel, which looked like it must have been built at least twenty years ago.

Slowly sipping his coffee, Liu waited for the yellow sun to completely rise above the surface of the water. He had plenty of time.

Having grown up moving between various cities around the world — perhaps because of it — he usually didn't feel much excitement in unfamiliar places. But facing this sea connected to the Pacific, his chest stirred.

This was a place the young Yeehyeon had been moved to by the decisions of adults before he could fully process the shock. A place where he had no choice but to protect himself by responding to silence with more silence, and a place he had turned his back on and fled.

With one hand shoved in the pocket of his sweatpants, Liu tilted his cup and recalled another point in his past connected to the sea before him.

This was the same sea he had come to in order to meet Yeehyeon after learning about the Changing. The sea had witnessed the ugliness of his own belated confession — hands hanging uselessly after the truth had been exposed with nowhere left to retreat. Familiar and yet strange, it made him want to look away.

I had never felt such complex emotions facing any sea before. The sea had always been merely an object of contemplation — sometimes enhancing the relaxed mood of a vacation, or a backdrop that made the city lights shine brighter.

I swallowed another mouthful of the remaining coffee, the sediment settled at the bottom. I quietly watched the waves, endlessly repeating their cycle of rolling in, seeping into the beach, and disappearing. I couldn't easily look away. Yeehyeon's quiet endurance — never raising his voice to plead his own pain — felt deeply submerged within them.

Even after the sun had fully risen above the horizon and disappeared behind the clouds, there was ample time.

After a stroll along the hotel's beachfront, I hastily filled my stomach with the unappetizing breakfast served at the first-floor cafeteria. I checked out early and loaded my travel duffel bag into the back seat of the car. My head was clear, despite not having slept enough.

There were plenty of hotels along the East Sea coastline in far better condition. The only reason I chose this place was that it was the closest to the memorial hall. I could reach my destination with ample time to spare by driving about thirty minutes from the hotel.

The sky, which had been completely overcast during my walk, was now sprinkling a fine drizzle. Before leaving the city limits, I sought out a flower shop I had searched for the day before.

The rules stated that flowers and photos couldn't be placed inside cases or affixed to the glass. Yeehyeon had told me this, but I didn't feel right showing up empty-handed.

With practiced professionalism, the florist recommended several typical arrangements suitable for visiting a memorial hall. It seemed there was quite a demand for condolence flowers, with several other memorial halls located nearby. Browsing the small shop, I bypassed the recommendations and chose Jana roses instead — asking that they be arranged simply, perhaps just five or six stems.

"These days, people often choose brighter flowers when visiting the deceased too," the florist noted, skillfully securing the stems and applying the wrapping. I nodded.

Since I wasn't very familiar with Korea's actual mourning customs, I had asked Manager Han beforehand. She had advised me that unless it was for a funeral or grave maintenance, there weren't any strict courtesies I absolutely had to follow. She added: "You don't need to worry too much about etiquette. Just visiting will mean a lot."

Even without knowing who I was visiting, Manager Han had said that. She must have vaguely guessed. But I didn't feel that the person I was visiting would be glad to see me. I wasn't very confident.

Leaving the city, I drove another twenty minutes along the two-lane national road. Once I turned south along a small stream branching off a relatively large river, the road narrowed and became winding. To the west stretched low mountains covered in thickets, and to the east, nestled beside the town, were small, irregularly shaped rice paddies, not very wide. Since it was the end of winter, the fields were dry. It was a rural Korean landscape that Liu was somewhat familiar with from having visited his mother's studio in Gangwon Province several times.

I rolled the window down about a hand's breadth. A little rain blew in, but not enough to bother me. The refreshing air from the damp, green forest felt like it was purifying my lungs, causing me to naturally breathe more deeply.

Yeehyeon had explained that because his maternal grandparents had handled the entire funeral, his mother's ashes had been interred at a private columbarium near the Seoul metropolitan area. A year after leaving Seoul, his father had personally moved his mother's remains here. The family only found out about the transfer about six months after it happened. The man who never spoke a word had handled it without any family member knowing.

I gnawed on my lip, thinking about the man's way of loving — a man who had turned his back on his young son, who had no one else to rely on, and chose to drown in grief over the loss of his wife, even refusing to attend the funeral of the wife he loved so dearly.

Just as I was starting to feel anxious because no signpost had appeared, the naturally formed thicket ended, and man-made landscaping began. I had arrived at the memorial hall.

I parked the car in the lot where the office and lounge were located. After a moment's hesitation over whether to retrieve the umbrella I always kept in the trunk, I grabbed only the bouquet and stepped out of the car.

Perhaps because it was a weekday and the weather was poor, only three or four cars were parked there. The surroundings were so quiet that the sound of the drizzle settling on the trees was clearly audible. A man who appeared to be around Liu's age heard the car and opened the office door to look out. Standing on the threshold, he gruffly stated that the bouquet could not be left at the memorial hall. I reassured him that I planned to take it back with me. The man scrutinized me from head to toe with a wary gaze before disappearing back into the office.

I began walking up the incline behind the parking lot. The path leading to the memorial hall building was well-paved, but visitors were not allowed to drive up.

The memorial hall building was situated in a cozy location, as if embraced by the forest. The area around the building was as eerily quiet as the parking lot below.

I casually brushed my hand over the chest of my coat, then ascended the highly polished granite steps and entered the interior.

I could hear the hushed voices of visitors. No faces were visible — only voices, and there seemed to be very few of them.

I slowly walked down the corridor between the large wooden display cases holding urns, searching for the section Yeehyeon had indicated. Although the wall near the entrance had windows to let in natural light, the interior felt dim even with the lights on. It was probably the weather.

Since the area was clearly sectioned off, much like a library, finding the niche was not difficult.

The quiet sound of my footsteps on the floor gradually slowed and then stopped completely.

"......"

Confirming the name engraved on the small memorial tablet next to the urn, the muscles in both of Liu's jaw tightened.

I moistened my lower lip with my tongue. Then, politely, I gathered the bouquet I had brought in both hands over my lower abdomen. My head kept bowing as if a heavy weight had been attached to my forehead. My emotions churned as if I were standing on a ship's deck.

I was flustered — I hadn't expected to feel such agitation before the memorial tablet of someone I had never actually met, even if she was Yeehyeon's mother. I couldn't pinpoint the exact cause of my surging emotions.

It probably wasn't direct mourning for the deceased, but rather sympathy, empathy, and guilt for everything Yeehyeon had to go through from her death.

Although I hadn't dared mention my own mother's story to Yeehyeon — afraid of touching a wound that still bled — there was someone I feared confessing my Changing to even more than Manager Han or Suki Kim. Even if that person was now nothing more than ashes resting silently among countless other urns, it was the same.

I pressed my lips together, trying to smooth the contortion on my face, and took a ragged breath.

"Happy birthday."

A confession seeking forgiveness and a promise for the future. I managed only to convey those words, swallowing everything else down.

Manager Han had told me on the phone that the visit would probably be brief, since there was no grave to tend or food to lay out for bowing. But as I turned to leave — still holding the Jana roses that had decorated the proposal to Yeehyeon — over thirty minutes had already passed.

Stepping outside the building, the rain was still drizzling. Gazing at the misty forest directly ahead, I let out a long breath. I desperately wanted a cigarette. I had refrained from smoking since waking up, feeling it wouldn't show proper respect.

My feet wouldn't move. Like someone with lingering attachment, I stood under the concrete awning, my gaze fixed on the quiet, rainy landscape. Someone was approaching rapidly from the uphill path I had just walked.

The man, wearing a backpack, walked with long, quick strides without an umbrella. His movement — the only dynamic thing in the surroundings — felt conspicuous.

When the man drew close enough for me to make out his features, I straightened my body, which had been leaning to the side. A crease formed between my brows. The man, who didn't even bother to shake the water droplets from his jacket after stepping under the awning, was Yeehyeon's father.

A momentary crack appeared in the man's eyes. I instinctively knew he had recognized me too. But the clash of gazes was fleeting. Yeehyeon's father walked right past me without even slowing his pace.

It took him about thirty minutes to come back out.

Even though I had stayed for nearly an hour myself, I couldn't guess what the man inside — where there was little he was permitted to do — was doing with his time. Still, I waited patiently.

It wasn't to say anything specific or hear anything in particular. But for some reason, I didn't want to just turn away. It wasn't out of pity or courtesy. If I had to define it, it was closer to the opposite.

"......"

Even though he must have seen my back on his way out, the man again walked past me and descended the stairs. That was expected. I quietly followed him, maintaining a distance of about fifteen steps.

At the fork where the parking lot and the entrance road diverged, I grabbed the upper part of his arm and blocked his path. His eyes — which I met directly and up close for the first time — were distinctly hazy, as if he had turned his back on the world. They were the kind of eyes that seemed to look past the person standing before him toward something behind them.

"I'll give you a ride. Get in."

"......"

The man lowered his gaze to the bouquet of Jana roses in my hand. Until the man walked over to the car and stood there, the two of us stood facing each other in the drizzle, with the dense thicket — darkened by moisture — as a backdrop.

I hadn't expected the offer to be accepted. But there was no reason to be flustered. I placed the bouquet in the back seat and started the car. As if the silence were contagious, I kept my mouth firmly shut until we reached the village, about thirty minutes away in the opposite direction from the hotel. I had no desire to spin plausible stories just to please him or ease the atmosphere.

As we drove along the coastal road with the East Sea to our left, the man hugged his backpack and stared out at the gray sea and sky.

It was only when the alleyway with the shark family mural — where I had once parked and waited to meet Yeehyeon — began to come into view that I slowed down and spoke.

"I went to the memorial hall... at Yeehyeon's request."

The sea had long since vanished from view, but the man's gaze remained stubbornly fixed outside the window.

"Yeehyeon is doing well there. He's healthy, fully dedicated to his work, and receiving recognition for it."

Yeehyeon had been contacting his great-uncle and his wife periodically, but I deliberately conveyed this news directly to imply that I was continuing my relationship with Yeehyeon.

The man turned his head and looked down at the backpack on his lap. His eyelids blinked rapidly.

The two of us fell silent again for a long time. Only the unseen ocean asserted its presence with the sound of waves. Even though I didn't say anything to make him stay, the man didn't get out; and even though he held firm, I didn't ask him to leave.

I gripped the top of the steering wheel and tightened my hand. Enduring this place and the man sitting beside me was more painful than I had expected. I released my bitten lip and spoke as if sighing.

"He will probably... become an Omega before the year ends."

"......"

The man's gaze shifted to me. I met his eyes squarely.

His pupils and irises were normal, of course. Nevertheless, I felt that his eyes resembled my own white irises after the Changing. His eyes — which had seemed like an empty void — blinked and showed a reaction.

Is he worried, even as a father?

A wicked impulse to mock him stirred. The restraint required to suppress it caused my facial muscles to twitch briefly.

I knew that Yeehyeon had told this man about the Changing. But now, I didn't feel the guilty shrinking I had felt before the urn. I knew it was audacious, considering what I had done to Yeehyeon, yet anger boiled up toward the man instead. It was an anger that resembled self-hatred.

The thought of the wounds and shock this man had inflicted on Yeehyeon made my teeth chatter — yet at the same time, I wasn't sure if I could have handled the same situation any better. Losing Yeehyeon. No, having him taken away. Yeehyeon simply disappearing one day. What in that hell could possibly give me the strength to live again?

Perhaps my inability to grant this man the forgiveness I had received from Yeehyeon stemmed from our similarity.

I felt a strong urge to smoke again and looked away from the man first. As I unclenched my fist and ran a hand over my face, the man unzipped the backpack he had been clutching so tightly.

He took out a sketchbook — size 16 — and waved it in front of my face as if urging me to take it. The man was capable of deep stillness, as if sunk into the abyssal depths, yet he would sometimes disrupt that balance with sudden, volatile movements.

I took the notebook, somewhat stunned.

"......"

Sketches and rough drafts — done with pencils, colored pencils, and markers — densely filled every page of Kent paper. I opened my mouth but could not make a sound.

After losing his wife, the man had turned his back on Yeehyeon and completely given up painting — as far as I knew. And when Yeehyeon left this village to go to Paris, he had left all his art supplies behind. Just in case. He hadn't known whether the bait he'd left would lead to disappointment or hope, and not knowing was still frightening — but it was better than the suffocating silence, so he had decided to throw something out there. Yeehyeon had told me this over cocktails during a date at a dim café in Paris.

The miscellaneous belongings and fishing gear piled up in a corner of the yard. The view of the sea from a cliff-like vantage point. The corroded gate. The scratched fish. The small dog scampering around.

The man had been showing his wife fragments of the narrow world he observed — those crude and pitiful cross-sections of daily life.

"......"

At the sound of the man opening the passenger door, I snapped my head up as if waking from a dream.

The man, having stepped out of the car, was looking at me with eyes where the boundary between pupil and iris was indistinct. They resembled the eyes of a mermaid forcibly dragged ashore in a net, or the eyes of a stag that had encountered a hunter's rifle while frantically digging through snow in midwinter, searching for its mate and young.

I bit my dry lower lip until it hurt. After standing and looking at me for a moment, the man closed the door, ascended the stairs leading to his house, and disappeared into the rain.

I curled the left hand holding the cover of the sketchbook and stroked the ring as if searching for a painkiller. I missed Yeehyeon so much it was almost unbearable.

· SEOUL ·

Manager Han repeatedly fiddled with the handle of the large mug before letting go. Her cup was about half full of coffee, but since she had barely touched it while listening to Liu's story, it must have gone cold by now.

"Shall I brew some more coffee?"

"......"

At Liu's question, she suddenly looked up. She met his gaze with a blank expression, as if she had heard an unexpected question, and slowly shook her head. Then, not wanting her thoughts interrupted, she lowered her gaze back to the mug. Liu ran a hand down his face from his forehead, then took a drink of beer and lit a cigarette.

Manager Han's silence continued for some time afterward. She puckered her lips a few times as if about to say something, but then clamped her mouth shut even tighter than before.

It was only after the freshly lit cigarette had burned down about halfway that she finally opened her mouth, seeming to have somewhat composed herself.

"Is there anyone else who knows besides me?"

"Shushu and Choi Inwu... Suki Kim."

Manager Han's eyes narrowed at the mention of the last name. Liu thought he knew why.

Although he had kept quiet about the Ghost, he had once told Manager Han about Suki Kim's efforts — how she had set aside her painting for a time and focused solely on that matter, in order to turn Liu into a Golden Alpha free from the domination of pheromones.

Knowing the kind of person Suki Kim was, Manager Han could fully anticipate — and was horrified by — how disappointed she must have been upon hearing Liu's confession.

Liu watched the smoke curling from the cigarette in his hand and added his explanation.

"Shushu thought we were undergoing the Changing by mutual agreement, and Choi Inwu... I asked him to go along with it to buy myself some time. That's when the topic came up."

"......"

"I visited my mother on the way back from Paris this time and told her myself."

"Then you never intended to tell Shushu or Inwu directly. Why are you telling me this?"

It wasn't an accusatory tone — more a simple curiosity, as if to say she didn't want to know such an ugly side of her business partner and friend.

"Back then, I wasn't thinking about the future at all — I hadn't even planned to keep it secret forever. Now... I thought Manager Han had the right to know that I'm the one who committed this act."

Manager Han shook her head, the movement almost imperceptible. It seemed less like a denial of Liu and more like she still couldn't believe the situation. It was beyond her capacity to process. She seemed to be postponing any conclusion for the time being.

"What did your mother say?"

Liu stubbed out the cigarette he had been holding without taking another drag since she spoke, and repeatedly opened and closed his empty fist in a meaningless gesture. He seemed to consider whether to answer her question directly, but even Liu's wry smile as he lowered his gaze was enough for her to anticipate the situation.

"Does Yeehyeon know that you told her?"

Liu bit down on his lower lip and nodded.

"We decided to take our time and work through things together regarding my mother. For now... she's too disappointed...."

Manager Han let out a sigh and leaned back against the chair. For the first time since Liu began his story, she relaxed her shoulders and looked around with an unsteady gaze, as if seeing the place for the first time.

"I completely understand how she must feel. Honestly, right now, I don't even know how to process this. A Ghost, of all things... And Yeehyeon too...."

Unable to finish her sentence, she roughly swept her hands over her face. She shook her head several times with force, trying to compose herself.

Manager Han's information about Ghosts wasn't much different from what Choi Inwu had. She had only vaguely heard the name before. To them, Ghosts were legendary beings, like vampires or yetis. So there was no need to even mention Diamond Dust.

For a moment, her firm gaze fixed on Liu.

"If you plan on telling Yuni and Juhan as well, I really hope you won't."

Unlike before, her tone was calm yet resolute, as if she had reached a firm conclusion on this specific point.

"I understand why you want to confess everything. But if you think about it from their perspective... that's not the right way to go. It's too much for them to bear. Just... stay as the Liu Weikun they've always known. And I'm sorry to say this, but you'll simply have to carry the guilt of keeping this secret yourself, Director Liu."

"......"

Liu, lost in thought while stroking the ring, asked for a beer. He seemed suddenly overcome by a desperate thirst. Liu brought two bottles — one for himself and one for her — twisted off the caps, and handed one over. As if genuinely parched, she downed about a third of it in one go. Then, scratching the surface of the bottle with her fingernail, she spoke in a low voice, as if sharing a secret.

"I know what it's like to be so deeply infatuated with someone that you can't see anything else. My partner was also a Beta."

When they first started working together at The Face, the two of them had quickly recognized they were cut from the same cloth — but because they were similar types, they never asked about or showed curiosity regarding each other's private lives.

Liu only found out that she had moved to Hong Kong with her artist husband after the divorce had already been finalized and her husband had returned to Korea. Even when she told him that story, she hadn't gone into detail about the love story or the reasons for the divorce.

"The reason things didn't work out between us had absolutely nothing to do with the difference in our genders — Alpha and Beta — but... when I was completely obsessed, if I could have, I would have wanted to turn my partner into an Omega."

Her voice was flat, but the faint, bitter smile playing on her lips conveyed that this was far from an idle remark.

"Of course, I didn't have the right pheromones for that, so thankfully... it only remained a vague desire."

She gave a low scoff, gripping the neck of the bottle and letting her hand slide down. Her gaze was fixed on the translucent green bottle, but her eyes were looking somewhere else.

"Even though I hadn't been particularly conscious of being an Alpha, I nearly went crazy with anxiety because my partner wasn't an Omega — whether that's instinct or something else, I don't know. Because no matter how much attraction you feel on a human level, it's difficult for an Alpha, an Omega, and a Beta to physiologically understand each other's mode of existence. Well... the same goes for Alphas and Omegas, too."

She snorted softly and took another long, cool gulp of beer. Having nothing to do but listen intently, Liu finished his own beer along with her.

"Loving someone. In the end, maybe it's just wanting the other person to remain beside you in the form you desire. At the same time, it's also the desire to remain in the form the other person desires, so you can keep being loved. Those two desires have to find a balance...."

Her eyes, tracing back over past relationships that had failed to find balance, held neither regret nor longing. But one could sense a faint ache lingering around the scars.

In her, Liu saw a reflection of Shushu. He could now vaguely understand that feeling lingering pain from a past love didn't necessarily mean holding onto foolish attachment. Instead of condemning their feelings as stubborn, he could nod and share a drink with them — only after nearly losing his own love.

Manager Han's eyes, lost in reminiscence, suddenly narrowed.

"Don't tell me that's why you avoided me and kept your distance from the Phantom work?"

"It wasn't that."

Liu shook his head and placed the shopping bag he had set beside him onto the dining table.

"What's this?"

"Souvenirs from my Paris trip."

"Besides that bomb you just dropped, you prepared something else?"

Liu rubbed his mouth and offered an awkward smile at her sarcastic glare.

"Digital prints and eco-bags made by The Hands. They sold these as a special event during the exhibition."

She took the items out of the shopping bag, lined them up on the table, and examined each one carefully.

"These are made from Yeehyeon's work?"

A look of pleasure and pride spread across her face. Liu took another gulp of beer to gather his courage. It didn't help much.

"I was thinking of having you take over Phantom."

"...What do you mean?"

Manager Han's face subtly stiffened as she placed a small notebook — printed with a collaborative work with Ben — onto the table.

"I want to properly support artists who have talent but struggle to find a gallery they can trust with their work. It will be similar in nature to The Hands, but I expect it will operate more like a sponsorship foundation. I plan to step away from Phantom entirely and focus solely on that. Of course, discussing the actual acquisition of Phantom is a conversation for whenever you're ready."

Manager Han, who had been listening to Liu with heavy eyes, shifted her gaze to the items spread out on the dining table. Most of the small-to-mid-sized galleries around Phantom that had taken on experimental projects recently were concurrently producing this kind of planned merchandise.

Contemporary art was no longer the exclusive domain of wealthy older individuals who stood back and maintained a dignified distance. The age range of those establishing small galleries or artist collectives was getting younger, as was the demographic that appreciated and consumed art. While Liu welcomed this change itself, he had always maintained a negative stance toward commercializing artwork and mass-producing it as merchandise.

"If I step away, you and Kwon Juhan can steer Phantom into becoming a more contemporary and dynamic gallery."

Liu forced a smile and added.

He hadn't reached a conclusion about which method was more correct. It didn't mean the approach he had maintained until now was wrong, nor was it a surrender to the flow of the times.

Unlike Manager Han, Yuni, and recently Juhan, he had always maintained a certain distance, observing things from the sidelines. Whatever he did, it lacked intensity — it lacked desperation. So it was natural that everyone had found it strange when he rushed to open the New York branch as if he were being chased.

This was a habit he had previously dismissed as inconsequential. However, after Yeehyeon left and Liu began to scrutinize himself more strictly, he could no longer ignore that lukewarm quality. He had thought he was staking everything on Phantom, but he had never truly drawn everything out of himself.

He intended to hand over the operation to those who had poured more fervent affection into Phantom, and finally, truly, intensely, desperately, immerse himself in figuring out what he could throw himself into with complete commitment.

"You discussed this with Yeehyeon... right?"

Manager Han asked cautiously, sounding out the question. Liu smiled wryly and nodded, understanding her concern — given that he had once proceeded with the Changing unilaterally.

"So after leaving The Hands, Yeehyeon is also planning to join?"

"Nothing has been decided that far yet. Regardless of what Yeehyeon chooses, I'm going ahead with this project. If you agree to take on Phantom, we'll need to move forward with specifics."

"I suspected your heart had already left the moment you gave me permission to run the café...."

Manager Han trailed off, sighing. Despite her expectations, her expression was one of bewilderment.

"Take all the time you need to think it over. I can wait."

She looked up after gazing for a moment at Liu's left hand, where the ring sat. Her eyes held a complex emotion that couldn't clearly be defined as contempt, anger, pity, or empathy.

Without a word, she nodded, gathered the scattered gifts, and stood up. As they waited together by the front door for the substitute driver, they talked about their time working together in Hong Kong. They laughed and chatted with exaggerated cheer, as if reacting against the weight of the complicated decisions, actions, and burdens they would have to face going forward.

Yet the one thing both of them had to agree on was the fact that their lives now were more precious than those days.

After seeing Manager Han off, Liu crossed the living room and returned to the dining area to take the mug she had used and the empty beer bottles to the kitchen. As he finished tidying the dining area before heading upstairs to his bedroom, Liu suddenly stopped. He looked around the quiet space.

"......"

Even before Yeehyeon entered his life, there had been the lively warmth of people who cared for one another here. But even within that vibrant exchange, he had always held himself a few steps back. It wasn't intentional. He simply didn't know how to get any closer, nor had he ever felt the need for deeper intimacy.

He had considered himself quite fortunate for the way he had lived: trusted friends who were also business partners, eager and diligent employees he wanted to support, friends he had grown up with like brothers, and even friends with whom he could trade barbs.

But after Yeehyeon appeared in that landscape, everything changed.

The balance was broken, the gaps widened, and suddenly the emptiness in his life became starkly apparent. And into that emptiness, Yeehyeon's presence pushed in — warm and full.

The first person he had desired fiercely and desperately. The one whom he had wounded so deeply that the excuse of inexperience couldn't begin to cover it.

Liu stared blankly at the dining table surrounded by eight empty chairs, then found his phone and gripped it. After checking the home screen, he headed downstairs.

Even without turning on the lights, the garden lamps and moonlight filtering in provided enough illumination. He sat on the mattress, having removed the pillows and sheets, and fiddled with his phone.

Sitting in this spot, savoring the afterglow of sex, he recalled the moment he had taken his first photo with Yeehyeon. He almost expected Yeehyeon to come down the stairs laughing and approach him, yet he also felt anxious, wondering if everything that had happened here hadn't just been a daydream.

He had told Manager Han that regardless of Yeehyeon's decision, this project would proceed independently — and that was true. But he had no intention of denying that he was preparing, if not immediately then eventually, to work with Yeehyeon's art.

Like Manager Han, like his father, he knew well enough that he belonged to the class of people more inclined to look than to create. There was no doubt about his affection for art, and his confidence that he was the best collaborator to understand Yeehyeon's artistic world and create the most suitable conditions for it remained unwavering. However, he would no longer be impatient.

Liu rested his elbows on his knees, propped his chin, and gazed into the silent space, checking his phone once more. It was a little past three in the afternoon in Paris.

He didn't want to interrupt Yeehyeon's afternoon work, but on the other hand, he knew how the conversation with Manager Han had concluded and that Yeehyeon would be waiting for his call. As expected, the call connected before the phone even rang twice.

Yeehyeon was practicing sketching in Room 601. He said he had locked himself somewhere completely alone because he didn't think he could concentrate well. It had been the same a few days ago, on the day Liu visited the memorial hall.

He conveyed Manager Han's opinion that it would be best to keep things from Yuni and Juhan, but Yeehyeon didn't express his stance on it. Instead, he seemed more sensitive to how Manager Han had taken the suggestion about transferring Phantom — he was concerned that she might be disappointed that Liu was officially departing entirely.

"Manager Han seemed to have had some inkling. After all, you've known each other for a long time."

Liu ran his free hand over his face. The room was chilly because the heating wasn't on, but it was still indoors. Even though winter was clearly at its very end, the tip of his nose was already growing cold at just this slight temperature.

[You must have been nervous. You did well.]

He chuckled, running his hand through his hair, feeling he wasn't in a position to hear such words.

Small sounds came from the other end of the line — something being placed on a table, a chair being pulled out. He must have poured coffee into a mug and sat down at the table. Liu could picture his movements clearly.

Liu closed his eyes and focused all his senses on the sounds coming through. After the sound of liquid being sipped, Yeehyeon's pleasant, calm voice followed.

[I spoke with Reed yesterday. He said the thirty thousand should be met soon... It seems I might be leaving The Hands a little earlier than planned.]

"...Is that so?"

His eyes opened. Trying to keep his voice steady and avoid showing any agitation, Liu responded as calmly as he could.

[When Kun said he wanted to establish a new organization... I didn't answer right away, but... you know it wasn't because I was hesitant, right?]

"......"

The truth was, he had lacked confidence. He had always thought Yeehyeon would choose him someday, but he had tried not to expect it — to suppress that hope. It wasn't that he doubted Yeehyeon's affection, but rather that he still harbored doubts about his own worthiness.

[The person I want to entrust my paintings to... has always been... just one person.]

"......"

Yeehyeon's voice was far from the confident, eloquent tone people often use to reassure someone. Nevertheless, his words always carried more weight than any eloquent speech. Every syllable he uttered — never spoken carelessly — was filled with a steadfast promise that could never be broken.

Liu wanted to smile just to convey how much happiness those words gave him — even if Yeehyeon couldn't see it. But it wasn't easy. All he could manage was to silently regulate his breath so Yeehyeon wouldn't notice how suddenly it had become unsteady. It felt like being swept away by a massive, unexpected wave, losing his balance, and falling from a board.

To embrace someone who had endured the harsh blows of life through silence could not be purely sweet. Nor did Liu wish to covet only the sweetness among the emotions he experienced through Yeehyeon.

Instead, he wanted all of Yeehyeon.

He wanted Yeehyeon's pain so much that he wished for every single agony the other man had felt to pass through him and be reproduced once more. He wished for the scars left deep inside this guileless man — who neither exaggerated the tragedies that befell him nor complained about them — to be etched onto himself just the same.

If he said such a thing, Yeehyeon would probably smile and say that wasn't the form of love he wanted.

Huu — Liu let out a long breath. An exhale that seemed determined to expel every last remnant lodged deep in his lungs. Stroking the ring on his ring finger with his left thumb, he swore to himself again: even if he couldn't reclaim the pain Yeehyeon had endured so far, he would never again stand on the side that hurt him.

"From the moment Alienation was first hung in my room... perhaps I wasn't so different either."

He tried not to cause worry, but a tremor remained in his voice. If that tremor helped convey his sincerity to Yeehyeon, then that would be fine too.

He closed his eyes. Yeehyeon sat waiting within the darkness behind his eyelids, at the dining table in Room 601, bathed in slanted afternoon sunlight. The waves calmed, and the submerged board floated back to the surface.

"There is only one person I want to stake my life on. There has only ever been one, and in the future too... I love only that person."

Liu spoke, his voice not hiding its tremor. Yeehyeon's smile — possessing a warmth softer than sunlight — materialized before his eyes. A gentle breeze carried the familiar and longed-for scent.

He glided once more across clean waves, heading toward the beach. His painting. The language Yeehyeon had given him. Like Colorful Ghost.