Chapter 87: No Ashes Left Behind

After finishing the meal, Han-geon—despite Jinwoo’s protests—even did the dishes before staggering his way out toward the beach.

Jinwoo left an address, telling him to drop by the shop after his walk, and headed off to work.

He slowly crossed the white sand, his feet sinking deep with every step.

Gentle waves rolled in, brushing past the broken seashells and pebbles scattered across the damp, brown sand, then slipped away again.

Come to think of it, it had been a really long time since he’d last seen the sea.

He’d been here last year too, but this year he’d spent it so busily with Eun-gyeol that he’d completely forgotten about things like the ocean.

His gaze, which had been tracing the clouds overhead, gradually lowered toward the distant horizon.

For a long while, Han-geon stared blankly out at the sea, his eyes utterly empty.

Laughing and chatting with Jinwoo over a meal, eating two whole bowls of rice as if nothing were wrong—it felt like something that had happened ages ago.

Even though it had been just moments earlier.

Strangely enough, the dream he’d had earlier felt far more vivid than reality.

As he recalled it, the voice that had called his name in the dream rose clearly again in his ears.

Han-geon closed his eyes.

His steps came to a halt, and he stood there motionless.

He took a deep breath without thinking, and the salty scent of the sea flooded his nostrils without restraint.

He filled his lungs with the breath of the ocean, then emptied them again, over and over.

He hoped that the cluttered thoughts weighing down his chest would fade along with it, even just a little.

It didn’t matter what kind of dream he’d had, or what kind of dreams he might have in the future.

It was all over now, anyway.

He would stay here, quietly curled in on himself, simply letting time pass—until the years he’d spent with Eun-gyeol were worn away from his life.

Like waves endlessly washing over pebbles and smoothing down their sharp edges, it would take an incredibly long time.

But in the end, even that time would be buried in the sea breeze and blown away.

Where a flame that had burned tirelessly for seventeen years had gone out, not even ashes remained.

Emotions like regret, longing, or resentment were feelings one could only afford when there was still energy left to spend on the other person.

Han-geon had given everything he had to Eun-gyeol without leaving a single thing behind, so there was no regret or lingering attachment left toward his ended love.

Just as people often say that love makes you blind, that was exactly how he’d lived.

Like a blind man with his eyes open.

No—like someone whose senses had been completely shut off.

He couldn’t see, hear, or feel anything except Eun-gyeol.

He hadn’t even noticed the pain within his own heart.

Only after turning his back on Eun-gyeol and running away did he realize it.

Ironically, the existence he’d thought was his entire world had actually been a rigid shield that dulled all of his senses.

And at the same time, it had sealed off every possible escape route, leaving him nowhere to run.

“…..”

Han-geon opened his eyes.

He saw faint footprints left behind by passing seagulls, white clouds scattered across the blue sky.

The sound of waves swelled and danced near his ears.

He felt the sea breeze lightly brushing against his skin.

In that moment, Han-geon existed wholly as himself.

Only then did he feel alive.

The sound of his heart beating—slow but steady—was, for the first time, beating for him alone.

Not because of someone else, and not for someone else, but purely in response to sensations he himself was receiving.

After going through countless things that words could never fully convey, he now stood here alone.

He’d taken a long detour, and though he’d arrived at the answer late—was it too self-indulgent to say that it was fortunate he’d realized it at all?

A dry laugh touched his lips, then scattered away with the wind.

He’d spent far too long living in self-reproach.

No matter how disastrous the outcome he bore, he no longer wanted to hate himself.

In truth, he no longer even had the strength to do so.

Just as hating others consumed immense energy, hating oneself did too.

He stood there vacantly for a long time.

During that time, it was impossible not to think of Cha Eun-gyeol at all.

Like the reverse side of a coin, Eun-gyeol was stuck to his life, and Han-geon knew well that his presence wouldn’t fade in just a few weeks or months.

That was why he didn’t try to forcibly shake him off.

He could only hope that things would fade naturally.

Eun-gyeol was surely looking for him.

What name Eun-gyeol wanted to give him, how he wished to define their relationship—those hopes were entirely Han-geon’s to decide.

Eun-gyeol had wanted and desired him perfectly well without bothering with such definitions.

The extent of his obsession was something even Han-geon couldn’t deny; by now, he was undoubtedly searching everywhere for him.

How was Eun-gyeol behaving right now?

Was he sad?

Angry?

Trying to fill Han-geon’s empty place with someone else…?

There was no way to know.

Whatever Eun-gyeol was feeling, from now on it was his problem to deal with.

And however Eun-gyeol lived from now on was none of Han-geon’s concern.

Even if that unfamiliarity felt awkward, it had to be that way.

Because from now on, Han-geon too had to stand on his own and take responsibility for the things he’d done.

The hand that had been clutching at his throbbing chest naturally drifted downward.

Over the past few days, he’d developed a habit that even surprised himself.

He kept rubbing his abdomen.

Because of the very, very unfamiliar truth that resided there.

“…Pregnant.

I’m pregnant.”

He mustered the courage to pull out the word he’d been desperately burying at the back of his mind.

It still felt no more familiar than chewing on a spiny chestnut burr.

Perhaps that was why he’d fled into sleep for two days.

Just thinking about those two characters alone consumed an enormous amount of energy and mental strength.

To be honest, he was scared.

Yes—he was scared.

The warmth nestled inside his belly wasn’t some beautiful “fruit of love” people liked to talk about.

It was the result of irresponsible actions committed by him and Cha Eun-gyeol.

It was something horrifying—for himself, and for the baby inside him as well.

He wanted to turn away from it.

Just like he had for the past two days, he wanted to keep pretending not to know, to bury it deep in his unconscious.

But unlike emotions that would fade with time, the life that had taken root inside him… would not simply disappear as time passed.

If left alone, it would continue to grow inside him.

Lowering his head like a sinner, Han-geon couldn’t even bring himself to say anything to the being inside him.

After rubbing his still-flat stomach for a moment, he slowly took his phone out of his pocket and called a taxi.

Whatever decision he made, he needed to confirm things for certain first.

Once inside the taxi, Han-geon gave the name of the hospital he’d looked up before the cab arrived.

Less than fifteen minutes later, standing in front of the hospital building, he hesitated and paced for a while, unable to move forward.

Obstetrics and Gynecology.

He’d never once paid attention to a place like this, never imagining that he’d have any reason to come here in his lifetime.

At the reception desk, he gave his name in a voice so small it barely carried, then sat blankly in the waiting area.

Since it was a weekday afternoon, there were only two or three other patients.

As he waited with his head bowed low, his heart pounded so violently that he had to press his hand against his chest again and again.

When he finally met the doctor, Han-geon briefly explained the situation.

Following the instructions, he lay flat on the examination bed, took a deep breath, and lifted his T-shirt.

Something cold and slippery touched his firm lower abdomen.

The doctor, peering at the screen, spoke in a careful tone.

“This is your first checkup, right?

Congratulations.

You’re six weeks pregnant.”

The doctor delivered the verdict with a smile and a light, cheerful voice.

Even though it wasn’t something he hadn’t already suspected, it felt as though someone had smashed his heart with a hammer.

After struggling to breathe for a moment, Han-geon barely managed to squeeze out a response.

“…Yes.”

“I’ll let you hear the heartbeat.”

Han-geon’s eyes flew open.

Before he could even say no, that it was fine—

Thump, thump, thump, thump….

A powerful beating filled his ears, striking them relentlessly.

It was so loud and vigorous it seemed to fill the entire dark examination room.

Faced with that fierce vitality, a life force shouting its existence with all its might, Han-geon couldn’t say a single word.

If he could have, he might have stepped backward instead.

The heartbeat was terrifyingly strong.

“Even if you don’t have much appetite, make sure you eat properly, and for the time being, avoid intense exercise or movement.

Take your supplements regularly.

Ah, and since you’re an omega, you know that you’ll need periodic exposure to the father’s—your alpha partner’s—pheromones, right?

And also…”

The doctor continued explaining in a calm tone as he put the ultrasound device away.

Listening absentmindedly, Han-geon hurriedly interrupted at a certain word.

“…Doctor, about that… alpha part.

If that isn’t possible, is the baby… in danger?”

The words slipped out before he could think.

The doctor shook his head.

“Oh, it won’t affect the baby’s growth or the continuation of the pregnancy.

However, it may be difficult for you, Mr.

Choi Han-geon, who’s carrying the child.

Since it’s highly likely you’ve already been imprinted, being regularly exposed to your bonded alpha’s pheromones is a basic measure to avoid imprinting pain.”

Han-geon nodded weakly.

With his lips pressed tightly shut, he listened as the doctor finished explaining what to be careful about going forward, then the appointment ended.

When he stepped outside, the nurse congratulated him and scheduled his next checkup.

After paying and trudging out, Han-geon clenched his fist tightly.

The maternity booklet in his hand felt unbearably unfamiliar.