Chapter 86: The Unspoken Confession

“Gasp.”

Beside him, Kim Chae-jun and Kang Ah-jun gasped, their hands flying to cover their mouths. Kim Chae-jun, in particular, looked utterly stunned, his eyes wide as if they might pop out.

As Kim Chae-jun started to call out Sa-yoon’s name, wondering what was happening, the quick-witted Kang Ah-jun yanked him away, fleeing towards their lodging.

Oblivious to the others’ reactions, Han Do-hoon bit Sa-yoon’s lip. His tongue, slipping into the slight parting as Sa-yoon tried to respond, explored him as if quenching a deep thirst.

Heavy, wet breaths continued for a long moment. Han Do-hoon clung to Sa-yoon like a saint desperate for an oasis, until he finally pulled away.

“……”

Only ragged breaths filled the silence. Sa-yoon, having finally escaped his embrace, looked at Han Do-hoon. Having not seen him in a long time, Han Do-hoon seemed sharper than before, perhaps due to the changed environment. He also appeared to have lost some weight.

Caught off guard by the sudden kiss, Sa-yoon awkwardly averted his gaze and offered a greeting.

“It’s, uh, been a while.”

“I missed you. When I heard you were coming, Sa-yoon, I desperately wanted to greet you, but my schedule simply wouldn’t allow it.”

Sa-yoon offered an awkward smile at words that sounded as if from a longing lover. He then glanced towards where the two people who had fled had vanished. They must have run with such haste that not even their shadows remained.

Sa-yoon, wiping his still-glossy lips with his sleeve, forced himself to respond casually.

“We’ve been caught.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t this go against our contract?”

“That doesn’t matter either.”

He brought up an old contract, the details of which were now hazy in his memory. Han Do-hoon, however, paid no mind to his words, his gaze fixed solely on Sa-yoon. He seemed like a large dog, reunited with its owner after months, frozen in unsure delight, even though Sa-yoon knew it wasn’t quite like that.

“My hand, if you could just…”

“Please allow me to hold it for a moment.”

Though their bodies were separated, the contact remained. Han Do-hoon’s fingers pressed firmly against Sa-yoon’s gloved hand. Sa-yoon wiggled his fingertips for a moment, then eventually gave up his resistance. Han Do-hoon’s grip on Sa-yoon’s hand was as firm as if he were holding onto a lifeline.

“To see you here, Sa-yoon, it feels like a dream.”

Unconcealed joy and satisfaction laced Han Do-hoon’s voice as he murmured, enchanted. What could possibly make him so happy? Sa-yoon’s presence on the battlefield? Was the current situation, which made it easier to apprehend Sa-yoon, truly so delightful?

Regrettably, Sa-yoon could not smile with the same ease as Han Do-hoon. He found it utterly impossible to comprehend what his counterpart was thinking. Seeing Sa-yoon’s stiff, unyielding expression, Han Do-hoon offered a bitter smile.

“I missed you so much. But it seems you don’t feel the same way, Sa-yoon.”

“That’s not true.”

Sa-yoon hastily shook his head at Han Do-hoon’s words. While he had rushed to refute him, feeling as though his true thoughts had been exposed, there was another reason as well.

Upon seeing Han Do-hoon, Sa-yoon realized it. It was infuriatingly annoying, yet undeniable. Meeting Han Do-hoon again after so long, he felt a slight, a very slight, sense of welcome. Hearing his familiar face and his unchangingly kind voice, Sa-yoon almost wanted to believe, if only for a brief moment, that what he knew might be a lie.

“I… missed you too.”

He missed the kind and warm Han Do-hoon, not the one who appeared in his nightmares, coldly staring at him and delivering a death sentence. He knew that image was a fabricated illusion, yet he foolishly longed for it.

“I was just so surprised. Ah, I was on my way to my lodging right now. Where are you staying, Han Do-hoon?”

Choosing his words carefully, Sa-yoon suddenly blurted out an unexpected question. Despite thinking it was out of place, no other words came to mind. The person with whom he used to feel comfortable and engaged in endless conversation now felt endlessly uncomfortable.

“I’ve been assigned separate quarters on the second floor of the Central Wing. Levian’s room and mine are the only ones arranged separately.”

At the name Levian, Sa-yoon briefly held his breath. Besides Han Do-hoon and Levian, there were several other S-rank Espers on the battlefield. Yet, only the two of them had received separate lodgings. Was it because they were Irregular Hunters?

“The battlefield’s security isn’t as good as headquarters. It seems we won’t be able to stay together.”

“Then it would be difficult to meet in my lodging too. My room is right next to my teammates’.”

Sa-yoon spoke with a hint of regret, while secretly breathing a sigh of relief. He didn’t have the courage to get physically close to Han Do-hoon. Even with just their hands touching, it was difficult to control his emotions.

In contrast to Sa-yoon, Han Do-hoon held Sa-yoon’s hand tightly, his grip full of strength. Disappointment dripped from his eyes.

They looked exactly like Gyeon-woo and Jik-nyeo, meeting after a year. Only, instead of a precarious bridge of magpies, they held hands within a passage connecting buildings.

Of course, Sa-yoon’s feelings, unlike Gyeon-woo’s, were those of being forcibly trapped in the passage. He was halted as if his ankles were caught by a sense of betrayal towards Han Do-hoon, yet also an unshakeable longing.

Han Do-hoon’s face was noticeably more at ease than when they first met. His anxious demeanor had vanished, and the grip on his wrist had weakened. Although he seemed to have lost some weight, a sense of calm had returned to his tired face.

“Are you also being mobilized for the conference this time, Han Do-hoon?”

“That’s a difficult topic to discuss here. I’ll tell you when we’re not observed.”

At his words, Sa-yoon looked around and saw people slowly moving at the opposite end of the passage. When Han Do-hoon had first appeared, everyone had vanished as if hiding their tails, but now they seemed to be gradually reappearing.

He felt the gazes of everyone, pretending not to, yet glancing towards Sa-yoon and Han Do-hoon. As he had heard, Han Do-hoon’s standing seemed remarkable.

“Right. I should probably head back now…”

Before Sa-yoon could finish his sentence, Han Do-hoon pulled him into a tight embrace once more. Even knowing they were being watched, he held Sa-yoon as if claiming him exclusively.

“Excuse me, Han Do-hoon?”

“……”

There was no reply. Han Do-hoon ignored Sa-yoon’s call and continued to hold him for a long time. Trapped between the wall and Han Do-hoon, Sa-yoon awkwardly moved his arms for a moment before giving up and letting them hang limp.

Han Do-hoon, who was embracing Sa-yoon in the center of the passage as if he had reserved it, whispered into Sa-yoon’s ear.

“There’s something I want to say later. Something I absolutely must tell you, Sa-yoon.”

His voice was low and dark, filled with a secretive nuance. Sa-yoon, who had been about to push Han Do-hoon away, froze, closing and opening his eyes briefly.

What could it be? Was the message Han Do-hoon so desperately wanted to convey simply about a mission? Or was he, this time, trying to talk to Sa-yoon from the perspective of an Irregular Hunter?

“When should we talk?”

“The Supreme Commander will be arriving at the battlefield soon. At that time, personnel from the Central Wing will also be deployed outside, and security will be tightened, so we’ll be able to talk quietly.”

A secluded, highly secure place. There was no better environment to secretly apprehend someone.

“Alright.”

“Please make sure to come out when I contact you later,” Han Do-hoon earnestly requested in a low voice. His slightly subdued tone felt almost like he was weeping, yet his face remained as usual.

“Understood.”

Sa-yoon nodded reluctantly. He felt like a condemned prisoner hearing the date of his execution. But having come this far, there was no escaping it. It was a moment he had braced himself for when he first stepped onto the battlefield. Sa-yoon forced a smile and lightly patted Han Do-hoon.

“Then you should go. You must be busy, having just arrived.”

Han Do-hoon, who continued to look back at Sa-yoon until the very last moment, slowly bowed his head and disappeared. Once Han Do-hoon was out of sight and Sa-yoon finally regained his composure, he walked towards the opposite end of the passage. As he passed the end of the corridor and reached a wider space, people standing nearby saw Sa-yoon and gasped, quickly turning their heads.

Whether this reaction was due to the events of last night, or his connection with Han Do-hoon, he couldn’t say. At that moment, Sa-yoon had no room to care about his surroundings. He slowly walked towards where Chae-jun and Kang Ah-jun had disappeared.

‘There’s something I absolutely must tell you, Sa-yoon.’

Was Han Do-hoon’s message a kind warning to avoid danger, or was it the final trap, laid by an Irregular Hunter to ensnare his prey?

Sa-yoon let out a burst of laughter, dumbfounded by the fact that a small lingering attachment still remained in his heart. No matter how much he yearned, nothing could change. Han Do-hoon was an Irregular Hunter, and he had approached Sa-yoon by deceiving him for a long time.

He had consistently tried to bring Sa-yoon to the battlefield, where it would be easier to apprehend him. Now that Sa-yoon was here, everything, from the beginning until now, was unfolding according to his plan.

Sa-yoon’s steps slowed.

When exactly would his execution date be? Would it be when he went to speak with Han Do-hoon alone, or after the important conference concluded?

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