Chapter 30: Even If It Hurts

“Jaeyul….”

Jaeyul saw me, yet he just stood there blankly in place as if his soul had left him.

Even though the rain was pouring down.

Seeing him getting wetter and colder by the second made my steps quicken on their own.

One step, two steps, then I was running.

Even while running, the words from the diary inside the Gate would not leave my mind.

Still live.

Still… live.

Those words, overlapping with the sight of Jaeyul in the rain, made him look unbearably fragile.

As if he might collapse at any moment.

I didn’t slow down.

I grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“…Hyung.”

“I’m sorry… you must’ve been so worried.”

Who knew how long he’d been standing in the rain.

His clothes were cold and drenched.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it to your match. Something happened suddenly, I—there was no way to—”

I was trying to choose words that wouldn’t shock him, so I couldn’t explain properly.

But before I could finish, his arms came around me, tight and desperate.

“It’s fine. None of that matters. I’m just… I’m just glad you’re alive. …That’s enough.”

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

He kept repeating the words while clinging to me even harder.

But that it’s fine was the part that hurt the most.

If he had gotten upset and yelled at me like any normal kid, it might have been easier on my heart.

“As long as you’re alive… that’s enough.”

Why did that sound like a lie?

Why did it feel like there were so many emotions he wasn’t saying?

“…Let’s go home. You’ll get sick.”

I ignored the trembling in his voice.

Because I didn’t have anything comforting enough to say to stop it.

“Make sure you dry your hair properly.”

We both came home soaked.

I showered first.

Jaeyul finished unusually fast afterward.

He didn’t even dry his hair, so I sat him down and dried it for him from behind.

Just like when he was small.

“Hyung.”

He spoke while I was shaking the towel through his hair.

He hadn’t said a word since we came home.

So him speaking now only made me more uneasy.

“…Yeah?”

“I thought about it a lot. I don’t think you should go into Gates anymore.”

“…Ah.”

“If we need money, we can cut down on academy or save elsewhere. If it gets bad, I can quit judo or school, whatever. I just—”

“Sun. Jae. Yul.”

I moved to sit in front of him and looked him in the eyes.

“Who told you to say something like that. I may have broken a promise, but there are things you can say and things you absolutely don’t say.”

I had tried not to scold him today.

I was going to let things slide because yeah, I did worry him.

His mood was already sunken.

But those words—

Those were too much.

After everything I’ve done to raise him for five years, how could he say he could just throw it all away like it was nothing?

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Even if I’m not a perfect adult, I’m not so pathetic that I can’t take care of one kid. Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure you—”

I was speaking with heat I didn’t mean to show.

“Whatever it takes?”

Jaeyul grabbed my wrist tightly.

His eyes were different now.

“What?”

“You think I’ll be grateful if you raise me by doing ‘whatever it takes’? You think it’s enough for me to just be thankful while you get hurt at work every day dealing with scumbags and risk your life in Gates just to earn money for me to eat and live and study?”

He kept going, and I couldn’t answer.

I had never seen him angry like this.

His grip tightened.

His gaze felt heavier by the second.

It felt like…

I was facing that X again.

“What did I do wrong by worrying about you. You said you’d come to my match and then you disappeared. No calls. Nothing. The Gate you went into vanished. And all I could do was—”

He cut himself off with a shaky breath.

His eyes closed, then slowly opened.

The anger was gone.

In its place—

Something like grief.

“…All I could do was worry, hyung.”

Only then did I understand.

Back at the Gate ruins—

This was what he had been holding.

Fear.

Helplessness.

Guilt.

And anger at himself.

“…Sorry. That’s not what I meant when I—”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to do whatever it takes now too.”

He said what he wanted to say.

And walked away to his room.

He didn’t listen to anything I tried to say next.

And for the first time, I didn’t know how to stop him.

This was our first real fight.

And it rattled me more than I expected.

“At least eat breakfast before you go.”

“…I don’t have time. I have practice.”

Kids are still kids after all.

Breakfast was just an excuse.

It was my way of apologizing.

But he still wouldn’t look at me.

He grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“Then at least take this. You can’t practice on an empty stomach.”

I followed him with a sandwich.

My heart was still sore from last night too.

He had been that scared for me.

And if it were him disappearing—I’d have lost my mind.

Knowing that made his words make sense.

“…I’m not hungry.”

He still didn’t take it.

Normally he would’ve taken it even if he didn’t eat it.

Up close—he looked wrong.

His ears were flushed red.

That redness spread down his neck and across his cheeks.

And—was he sweating?

“Jaeyul, are you sick? Why are you sweating?”

I reached out and touched his forehead.

Even a second of contact was enough.

He was burning.

He must have caught a fever from the cold rain.

“I’m fine. I’m going.”

He turned away, avoiding my hand.

Didn’t look at me.

Put on his shoes.

“Practice? When you’re this sick? Hey—! Jaeyul! Sun Jaeyul—!”

So this is what a teenager’s anger looks like.

He walked out without hearing a word I said.

The door slammed shut.

Only then did the frustration in my chest escape in a long sigh.

The strongest feeling was regret.

I shouldn’t have snapped at him like that.

He must have been terrified because of me.

But I didn’t think of that first.

Maybe it’s because I’m not really his family.

If I were—maybe I would’ve held him first.

The sandwich in my hand felt painfully stupid.

As if something like this could be called an apology.

“I found something interesting.”

I couldn’t stay home, so I went out early.

Switched to one of Jaeyul’s old phones since mine was ruined.

I went to the office, planning to rest since the shop was closed today.

But of course—

Those bastard Six-Star idiots ruined everything.

“…Oh, did you.”

“That’s not the reaction you should have. It’s about missing Cheolmin.”

I was about to lock up and leave when they stopped me.

My mood was already rotten from the argument and no reply from Jaeyul.

The Six-Star leader looked unusually serious.

“I’m busy. Just say what you came to say.”

He didn’t care.

He put a tablet on the table and played a video.

“Here. Cheolmin enters the alley where your shop is, see?”

“…Yeah.”

It was dashcam footage from a car parked near the alley.

Cheolmin clearly entered the alley.

Then the video fast-forwarded.

He never came back out.

“Except there’s no footage of him leaving.”

“…Excuse me?”

“There’s nothing. He goes in. He doesn’t come back out.”

I replayed it.

He was right.

Even after a long while—

Only Jaeyul was seen coming out.

“What do you think, Jin Sehyun? I’d say there’s a high chance something happened here.”

“That’s ridiculous…! He could’ve gone into another building. Our shop isn’t the only one in that alley!”

“That’s possible. There are about three businesses there. Some even have back doors.”

He agreed easily.

He even pointed out what I didn’t know.

“But why would he do that? Why go out of your way to slip out a back door when you could just walk out? Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“…That’s your job to answer, not mine.”

But I was thinking the same thing.

Why would he.

No reason.

I stared at the paused footage.

At the frame of Jaeyul walking out of the alley.