Chapter 15: A Fragile Honesty

“Because I was… headstrong.”

Seonghye’s head tilted slightly to the side. He looked surprised.

“I was very clear about right and wrong. Sometimes, I found that… overwhelming.”

“You found it overwhelming?”

Yunhwan swallowed hard and looked at Seonghye. Even in the suffocating heat, Seonghye’s face brought to mind a pristine, white snowy field in winter. Looking at that clean expression filled with nothing but pure curiosity, Yunhwan finally spoke the words the man wanted to hear.

“No, you… you listened to me well.”

“But you just said you found me overwhelming because I was headstrong.”

“…No one in this world is perfect.”

How can you be so cold… Yunhwan thought, subtly turning his head away. But the moment he turned, his wrist and hand were caught simultaneously and pulled back toward the front.

In an instant, his vision shifted, and his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily. As their gazes locked in the air, Seonghye poured his entire focus into Yunhwan, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

It started as a request.

“I’ll do better this time.”

Because his voice sounded inexplicably anxious, Yunhwan found himself slowly relaxing the tension in his captured hand.

“I just need to be good, right?”

As if terrified that the limp hand might slip from his grasp, Seonghye’s fingertips grazed the back of Yunhwan’s hand—not painfully, but firmly. Seonghye bowed his head slightly toward him.

“I won’t be stubborn, and I won’t weigh likes and dislikes. All that headstrong behavior…”

“…….”

“I won’t do it anymore, so please… forget the bad memories of me.”

The voice that had felt anxious took on a tone of sheer pleading at the end. It revealed the man’s desperation—the fear of being hated before he even had a chance to start over.

Yunhwan looked back and forth between Seonghye and his captured hand, swallowing hard again.

Is this what imprinting is like?

Every night, this man used to be busy running away from him. Now, he was begging to be looked upon with kindness. No matter how much someone loses their memory and becomes a different person, they shouldn’t be able to act like this. He couldn’t help but think that the cause of all this was the imprint.

His dark brown pupils wavered at the sight of the man who had changed so drastically. Simultaneously, a sprout of responsibility began to grow in Yunhwan’s heart.

If he couldn’t help Seonghye find his memories, he would at least do his absolute best to help erase the imprinting.

As Yunhwan’s lips parted soundlessly, Seonghye’s eyes grew deeper and narrower. His gaze was sharp, chasing the consonants and vowels that might have escaped Yunhwan’s lips.

After a moment, Yunhwan slowly lifted his eyes to look at Seonghye. Seonghye’s cheek twitched slightly as he endured the brief, anxious silence.

“…No.”

Yunhwan shook his head slowly.

“Just act however you feel comfortable. I’d rather you… be yourself than try to force a change.”

Suddenly, he remembered Min Seonghye holding him tight and not letting go while they tumbled down the mountain. Unlike the warmth currently holding his hand, that protection had been burning hot, clinging to him from head to toe to shield him.

The lips that were about to close parted again. A small amount of strength entered Yunhwan’s voice.

“And… at the very end, you had changed a lot.”

“…….”

The look in Seonghye’s eyes as he watched Yunhwan sank strangely. In those pitch-black pupils that had been soaked in anxiety and nervousness just moments ago, something was now very slowly starting to simmer.

Unaware of this, Yunhwan spoke in a much tenderer voice than before.

“So… it’s okay, Seonghye. You don’t have to force yourself to change.”

Having finished his answer, Yunhwan let out a deep, heavy breath. Then, a gaze as thick as the heat haze outside the window followed his breath, clinging to him.

One week later.

In the usual summer weather, the only cafe in town was swarming with people. Because many customers had already taken the indoor seats to cool off, latecomers were naturally pushed out to the balcony.

In a crowded corner of the balcony, the situation was no different for Seongpil, a man with an impressive beard, and the neat-faced man sitting across from him.

Seongpil complained after draining a whole glass of iced coffee in one go.

“It sure is hot. I’ve never seen this many people in this cafe before, Hyung.”

“They said it’s a heatwave today. You could die wandering around on a day like this.”

Yunhwan, sitting before a coffee glass that was starting to bead with condensation, let out a hot sigh. Today’s weather felt even hotter than last year’s, which had been famous for its sweltering heat.

Last year, the end of the rainy season—which had teased everyone by lingering—resulted in a brutal tropical night.

But this year was different. After the rainy season ended, the weather bureau’s forecast that the heat would recede missed the mark completely; instead, heatwaves and typhoons struck.

Yunhwan knew that typhoons were said to churn the seawater and renew the ocean. The moment they landed, they became a threat to human life, but ironically, they were the top contributors to restoring damaged nature.

It was surely a good thing for nature to be regenerated after being damaged by humans.

But…

“Hyung, your phone.”

Why couldn’t it just pass by instead of taking my crops with it…

“I said your phone is ringing.”

“…….”

“Your phone! Answer it!”

Thinking of his aronia field, which was still not fully drained of water, Yunhwan finally snapped back to reality.

“Someone’s been calling for you for a while now. Where is your head at?”

He hurriedly looked at his phone; it was vibrating rhythmically. Yunhwan’s hand reflexively grabbed it. As soon as he saw the screen, a very familiar number appeared.

His pupils shook as if they might fall out before he finally regained his composure.

Seongpil, flustered by Yunhwan’s dramatic change in expression, asked if he was okay. Yunhwan simply nodded instead of answering. However, his entire focus was already on the vibration in his hand.

Yunhwan stood up, gathering his phone and wallet. He gave a vague excuse about an emergency to the puzzled Seongpil and walked quickly toward the exit.

Leaving the cafe, Yunhwan headed for the stairs of the building next door, leading to the third floor. The stairs were high and intimidatingly steep, but Yunhwan didn’t care and began to run up. He pulled his phone from his pocket; it was still vibrating.

Fumbling, he pressed the call button, and Junseong’s smooth voice answered.

[Ah, Mr. Yunhwan. Seonghye’s treatment just finished.]

“Already?”

Sprinting up the stairs, Yunhwan stumbled in spite of himself. The imprinting treatment, which had taken at least half a day last time, had somehow finished in less than three hours today.

The shortening of the treatment time meant, unfortunately, that Yunhwan’s personal time was also decreasing.

[Yes. Today’s process wasn’t complicated. Seonghye was remarkably cooperative as well.]

Junseong added that Seonghye, having finished treatment, was asking for Yunhwan before starting his counseling session. Yunhwan, who had been skipping three steps at a time, took a long leap over the final step.

He arrived at a hospital with a rusted sign.

It had been closed for a long time after going out of business two years ago, but a week ago, a sign had been secretly hung once more.

A hospital that existed and operated for only one person.

“Yes, Junseong. I’m right outside.”

Finishing the call, Yunhwan let out a deep breath where he stood.

Who would ever look at this place and think it was a hospital? Yunhwan’s gaze, which had wavered at the old sign, now dropped toward the door.

He saw a long door handle.

Looking at the handle, which was so rusted it smelled strongly of iron, he sometimes felt as though this whole situation was a play. An old door separated the audience from the stage.

And the protagonist of that play was Yunhwan himself. A lead who was so bad at acting that he might be kicked off the stage at any moment… a man in a precarious situation.

Yunhwan caught his breath and placed his hand on the handle. As he pushed the door open slowly, the characteristic smell of hospital disinfectant greeted him first.

“Mr. Yunhwan.”

Next was Junseong, dressed in a white coat. He looked visibly brightened by Yunhwan’s appearance. Behind him, several medical staff members could be seen moving between the wards and treatment rooms.

This place, equipped with treatment rooms, a counseling room, and even an operating room for emergencies, unusually had only one patient room.

Furthermore, there was no reception desk or waiting area, giving it an atmosphere more akin to a laboratory to any outsider.

Naturally, this was because the space was built solely for Min Seonghye.

“Where is Seonghye?”

Before Junseong could even answer, Yunhwan’s eyes landed on the firmly closed white door across from him. Thinking that the hospital’s only ward was there and that Seonghye would be inside, Yunhwan waited.

Junseong gestured for Yunhwan to follow. Yunhwan walked silently behind him.

“He’s resting inside for a bit. We’re scheduled to start counseling in ten minutes, but he keeps insisting on seeing you before that. He won’t even listen when I tell him you’re nearby.”