Chapter 130: The Quiet That Returned

His whole body ached. Beyond his hazy consciousness, someone’s voice drifted in. Yu Heero thought it was rather noisy, but he couldn’t say a word.

His body was sunk in a deep sleep. Muffled conversation buzzed in his head, ringing restlessly for a long while before finally fading. Yet he didn’t feel any more comfortable.

When the sounds disappeared, a heavy pain took their place and tormented him. His strength was drained as if he’d suffered a long bout of illness, and a groan slipped from him without his noticing.

At the same time, the crushing pressure that had tormented him mercilessly over the past few days had vanished as if snow melting away.

It was strange.

Night after night, he hadn’t been able to sleep properly because of the horrific pain—like someone clutching his heart in their fist and squeezing—but now he could even feel the calm, steady beat of his heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of life, beating in a steady rhythm, felt oddly unfamiliar. It even sounded like the ticking of a clock. Before he realized it, Yu Heero was no longer groaning, but breathing evenly.

He thought that the time had finally come for him to die—or that he had lost his ability. Otherwise, there was no way to explain such a sudden change.

…Or perhaps he had gone back to that time again.
To the moment that had rendered him utterly powerless, when he had been forced to accept the punishment called fate, down to his very bones.

Resignation came quickly. Having been through it several times, even his urge to resist had faded. In the end, all he could do was struggle within a predetermined cage.

“……”

Yu Heero wished only that he might see Seong Jiwoo’s face one last time.

Perhaps because of that desperate longing to see him, his consciousness gradually drew closer from somewhere far away to reality.

Yu Heero lifted his heavy eyelids. Blink. Blink. The blurred haze cleared, and his brain rapidly processed what he was seeing.

As expected, this wasn’t the laboratory’s recovery room. Nor was it the general store.

“The patient has woken up.”

A brisk, professional voice rang out. Soon, the voices he’d thought were gone came swarming back, buzzing all around him. Most of them were familiar faces.

He wasn’t particularly glad to see them. The person he was waiting for wasn’t among them.

“That’s quite the expression for someone who made others worry all night.”

It was Cha Minjeong, a guild member he hadn’t seen in a while. Yu Heero’s brow creased at her words, and Minjeong’s expression grew even more sour.

“The vice-guild leader is in the room next door.”

Only then did Yu Heero’s face relax. Cha Minjeong let out a scoff, but soon nodded as if she understood completely.

“I thought you were the guild leader’s passionate unrequited love, but I guess that’s not it.”

Yu Heero narrowed his eyes at that. Cha Minjeong tugged up the corner of her mouth in a teasing smile.

“If the guild leader got dumped by the vice-guild leader, I was planning to follow the vice-guild leader instead. But looks like I won’t need to.”

“Dumped?”

Yu Heero echoed the word as if he’d never heard it before. Cha Minjeong clicked her tongue and muttered something about how unlucky she was.

“Are we really going to keep this conversation going?”

From behind them, Park Sujin—who had been waiting—asked awkwardly. Only then did Yu Heero turn his gaze to her, his expression still far from pleasant.

“I’ll apologize for the rest of my life, so let’s check your condition first.”

Park Sujin pulled a doctor over and placed him in front of Yu Heero. The doctor, trembling, kept glancing nervously at Park Sujin as he examined Yu Heero.

Trying to examine Yu Heero—known as the strongest hunter in South Korea—under the stern watch of Park Sujin, who had once been his direct senior back when he was an undergraduate, made the doctor feel dizzy.

“W-Well… first of all, your recovery ability is incredibly—really incredibly—high. Your external injuries are almost completely healed. We were prepared for full rehabilitation therapy, but given your current condition, physical therapy alone should be more than sufficient.”

With Park Sujin standing there, arms crossed and staring him down, the doctor spoke while shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“And, um… you mentioned side effects from your ability. By the time you arrived at the hospital, that condition had already improved quite a bit. We ran tests, and while there are traces of internal damage, there aren’t any significant abnormalities at the moment. Are you experiencing any inconvenience when using your ability right now?”

Yu Heero twisted his face as if he’d just heard something absurd. Park Sujin, as though she’d already known, nodded quietly.

“So… it wasn’t a rampage?”

At Yu Heero’s words, the doctor smiled awkwardly and nodded.

“It wasn’t a rampage. It was a loss of consciousness accompanied by a mild concussion. Though the consumption of your ability was quite severe.”

Flipping through the chart, the doctor pursed his lips with a serious expression. Even he found Yu Heero’s condition hard to make sense of.

“…As you said, your condition was such that a rampage wouldn’t have been surprising. But there were no prodromal symptoms, and you recovered faster than expected, which is why you were moved to a general ward. Isn’t that curious?”

Yu Heero said nothing, only wearing an uneasy expression. The doctor didn’t seem to expect an answer anyway; he organized the papers again and shrugged.

“Rather, you had a drug intoxication reaction due to the ability suppressor you were hit with right beforehand, so we administered an antidote to neutralize it. The sluggishness you’re feeling is from the painkillers, so there’s no need to worry too much.”

“……”

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Ability suppressors don’t actually prevent rampages…”

The doctor glanced between Yu Heero and Park Sujin. After Yu Heero had been brought in, he’d heard the general explanation and even checked the extensively broadcast news, but the test results still left many things unexplained.

“My opinion is that, going forward, it would be better for you to adjust and monitor your condition by using your ability directly rather than relying on medication.”

Since he himself wasn’t an ability user, the doctor could only take a step back.

Yu Heero remained silent, deep in thought, as if something didn’t sit right with him. After bowing briefly to Park Sujin, the doctor quickly left the room.

“You must be overwhelmed, so first—”

Before Park Sujin could finish, Yu Heero pushed himself upright. His body felt stiff, but not so much that he couldn’t move.

“I’ll see my brother first.”

“Ah… okay.”

Answering quickly with an expression that showed no interest in anything else, Yu Heero left the room. Park Sujin rubbed her dry face and swallowed a deep sigh.

Unlike his earlier hurried steps, his hand was careful as he opened the hospital room door. With a soft rattle of rolling wheels, Seong Jiwoo’s room opened.

Beneath a sunlit window stood Seong Jiwoo’s bed. Yu Heero approached him without making a sound.

When he saw the familiar, composed face he knew so well, Yu Heero finally allowed himself to breathe.

Seong Jiwoo was breathing steadily, as though in a deep sleep.

Only after he placed his palm on Seong Jiwoo’s chest and felt the beating of his heart did Yu Heero allow a faint smile to form.

Now, just looking at Seong Jiwoo’s face was enough to make his chest ache. It wasn’t easy to rein in the emotions surging up inside him.

Barely holding himself together, Yu Heero brushed Seong Jiwoo’s cheek. Unlike his own warm hand, Seong Jiwoo’s cheek was still cold.

So Yu Heero cupped it and waited, until it warmed to match the temperature of his own hand.

He wished that everything in the world—except himself and Seong Jiwoo—would disappear. Abilities, hunters… he was sick of all of it now.

“……”

Yu Heero slowly pulled his hand away. Cold air seeped into the space between their parted skin. Worried it might steal away Seong Jiwoo’s warmth, he pushed aside his regret and headed for the attached bathroom.

If Seong Jiwoo woke up, he couldn’t look too haggard.

Just like on that day long ago when he’d waited for Seong Jiwoo to come find him, Yu Heero checked his reflection in the mirror.

“…Huh.”

He froze.

The soft brown hair Seong Jiwoo had always adored—hair with a color no dye could truly replicate—was there. Yu Heero abruptly leaned closer to the mirror.

And as if that weren’t enough, even his eyes had changed to a lighter shade. No—rather than changed, they had returned.

Frowning, he blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. The reflection blinked back at him in perfect sync.

The more he did, the clearer those translucent, light-brown eyes became—so clear that his own reflection seemed fully contained within them.

Only then did he understand what the doctor had meant by his ability’s side effects having improved.

It meant the darkness that had been devouring him was completely gone.

How this had happened wasn’t particularly important. Yu Heero didn’t dwell on it, instead turning right back toward Seong Jiwoo.

He wanted to show him, as soon as possible, the 모습—the appearance—he liked most. A delusion arose that perhaps he could return to how things had been then, as if nothing had ever happened.

As if answering that hope, Seong Jiwoo’s fingertips twitched.

Carefully enveloping him, Yu Heero gazed down at him with all the longing he had.

A faint tremor ran through his eyelids, his cheek twitched, and eyelashes shimmering with sunlight fluttered open.

Those clear eyes slowly revealed themselves. Each miraculous moment that reflected Yu Heero within them made him feel an overwhelming urge to spill his heart out in one breath.

So as not to startle him, Yu Heero even held his breath as he waited.

After staring at Yu Heero for a long moment, Seong Jiwoo’s lips slowly parted. His dry, cracked voice was so hoarse it was painful to hear.

“…Is this a dream?”

Having spoken just that one line, Seong Jiwoo closed his eyes again, becoming completely still—as if he’d never woken up at all.

It was Seong Jiwoo who asked whether it was a dream, yet Yu Heero was the one left staring blankly, like someone who had just awakened from a fleeting spring dream.

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