Chapter 88: The Weight of a Lie

“No, this isn’t how it should be. Mr. Beauty, you’re truly heartless; just talk to me for a moment…”

“Sa-yoon.”

Han Do-hoon had appeared, standing nearby. He was effectively surrounded by Irregular Hunters, both in front and behind. Sa-yoon bit his lower lip, a grimace born of this unwelcome reality.

“It’s quite dry here. Biting your lips will only make them crack.”

Voicing this unwelcome concern, Han Do-hoon placed a small tube of glycerin into Sa-yoon’s hand. From behind them, a faint retching sound could be heard from Levian.

“Levian. Don’t you have your own duties to attend to?”

“Oh? My duties, you say? Well, I saw someone living quite well without a care in the world, so I thought I’d try slacking off a bit too.”

“Is that so? I could make that ‘slacking off’ a permanent state for you.”

Behind them, the sound of Levian trudging away slowly faded. He brushed past Sa-yoon and Han Do-hoon, who stood facing each other, and began descending the stairs ahead.

“Alright, alright. I’d rather not be honorably discharged for medical reasons, so I’ll be off.”

“There’s no send-off for you.”

“Didn’t expect one anyway.”

Han Do-hoon, who hadn’t even spared a glance for Levian, gently took Sa-yoon’s slightly stiff hand again. He naturally drew Sa-yoon’s arm, guiding him in the opposite direction.

“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you? There’s a better place than the communal mess hall, so allow me to guide you.”

Before he could even voice a protest, Sa-yoon found himself being led along by Han Do-hoon.

Clink. Clank.

Only the metallic sounds of forks and knives colliding echoed through the air. It seemed the entire restaurant had been reserved, as Han Do-hoon and Sa-yoon were the sole patrons.

On the table, the food Han Do-hoon had brought them was incomparable to the usual rations, its sweet aroma lingering tantalizingly in the air.

It was an environment perfectly suited to whet one’s appetite, yet Sa-yoon felt no inclination to cut into the food.

Han Do-hoon, seated opposite him, spoke with a worried expression.

“You’ve lost a considerable amount of weight.”

Han Do-hoon himself had only tasted a small portion, leaving the rest untouched, much like Sa-yoon.

“You don’t look so good yourself.”

In Sa-yoon’s eyes, Han Do-hoon was no different. While he looked better than when they first met, his face remained gaunt, his complexion dark.

“I’m fine. This is simply my usual state.”

Han Do-hoon paused before replying. Sa-yoon, wondering what he meant by ‘usual state,’ suddenly understood. Han Do-hoon struggled with guiding.

Due to his suppressor rejection, his guiding efficiency was extremely low. Moreover, there were fewer guides available on the front lines than at headquarters.

The situation was bound to be different from headquarters, where he could meet various guides. Therefore, Han Do-hoon’s current sensitive state was merely his everyday reality over the past period.

“Have you applied for guiding?”

“No. I rarely apply for guides unless absolutely necessary. If I’m deemed unable to cope, the higher-ups will assign one.”

“Just apply first. Don’t wait for others to take care of it.”

“…..”

Han Do-hoon offered no reply. Instead, he took Sa-yoon’s steak plate, which was still half-uncut, diced it into small pieces, and returned it.

“Since arriving on the front lines, it’s been busier than expected. I wanted to briefly visit Korea, but I haven’t had the chance.”

Han Do-hoon conspicuously changed the subject. He clearly didn’t want to discuss guiding. It was an attitude that would only worsen his condition.

“That’s understandable. From what’s reported daily, it seems chaotic out there.”

“The number of Rains is far greater than anticipated.”

“I understand. You’ve been incredibly busy.”

“…….”

Even with Sa-yoon’s gentle words of comfort, Han Do-hoon’s expression remained strained. His face, even more rigid than when they first met, tightened as he clenched his fist.

Han Do-hoon stared at his food in silence for a long moment before asking, “Then, Sa-yoon, why have you come to dislike me?”

“What?”

Startled by the question, Sa-yoon repeated it, only realizing his mistake when Han Do-hoon’s face crumpled. The appropriate response in this situation should have been, ‘I don’t dislike you.’ His reaction was nothing short of a blatant admission of discomfort with Han Do-hoon.

“No, it’s not that I’ve come to dislike you. It’s just… it’s been a while since we last met, so it’s a bit awkward, that’s all…”

“I believed we got along well. That we had feelings for each other. I truly thought so. And I assumed Sa-yoon felt the same way.”

“Uh…”

“It might be inappropriate to say this given the circumstances, but I intended to ask you to stay with me once this chaos ended.”

Sa-yoon set the fork he was holding down on the table. There was no way his feelings weren’t obvious. Sa-yoon wasn’t adept at lying, and he knew there had been times he couldn’t hide his discomfort from Han Do-hoon.

However, this reaction was entirely unexpected. He had anticipated Han Do-hoon might immediately and aggressively apprehend him, or at least grow suspicious, believing Sa-yoon was difficult to deceive, but…

These words were akin to a confession.

“What did I do wrong?”

“…….”

“Please, tell me the reason.”

His voice sounded on the verge of tears. Sa-yoon had never imagined Han Do-hoon would show such vulnerability, pleading and clinging to him. His perpetually bleak face exuded an unmistakable weariness, a testament to his recent hardships.

And watching him, a surge of indignation welled up within Sa-yoon. Did it truly have to come to this? How far did he intend to toy with people, treating them like fools, before he felt satisfied?

Why had Sa-yoon come to dislike Han Do-hoon? Of course, Han Do-hoon wouldn’t know. He must be asking because he genuinely didn’t understand the reason. Unaware that his true intentions had been exposed, he was so brazenly trying to sway Sa-yoon.

“There’s no reason. It’s just…”

Sa-yoon’s voice trembled as he struggled to speak. Unlike his heart, which had flared with anger only to cool to icy indifference, his voice remained uncontrollable.

He pressed his trembling lips together. He truly thought he was alright, yet the moment Han Do-hoon prodded, he was on the verge of tears. To crumble so pitifully now would feel like admitting defeat to Han Do-hoon, so he steeled himself.

“Perhaps… it’s just that time has passed. You know, like a rut in a relationship.”

Sa-yoon uttered an excuse he didn’t even understand himself. More than anyone, Sa-yoon knew that nothing simply ‘happened’ in the world. Everything had a reason.

It was simply that he couldn’t voice that reason. The carefully maintained composure on Sa-yoon’s face cracked.

Now, Sa-yoon wanted to ask Han Do-hoon. ‘Can I really speak honestly?’ He swallowed the urge to scream, ‘Are we truly equals, capable of such a conversation?’

He couldn’t allow all the moments he had endured so well to be rendered meaningless now.

“Sa-yoon.”

Han Do-hoon called his name, his face etched with exhaustion. He looked as worn and weary as Sa-yoon, his gaze as desperate as one trying to hold onto a departing lover. Yes, that’s how it seemed. But Sa-yoon was just as exhausted as Han Do-hoon.

His foolish eyes and mind weren’t functioning properly, leaving him utterly drained. His vision blurred, as if everything were a dream.

“…Sa-yoon?”

A few tears fell onto the tablecloth. Beneath Sa-yoon’s bowed head, tears streamed down incessantly. He had thought he wouldn’t cry anymore.

When he first learned of Han Do-hoon’s deception, Sa-yoon had cried almost every day, believing that period was over. He had thought that no matter what Han Do-hoon said to charm him, he wouldn’t be swayed.

He had believed he wouldn’t waver, wouldn’t succumb to self-pity like a foolish protagonist in a drama. Yet, it seemed he was even worse than those foolish, ignorant people.

Sa-yoon wept silently. He cried because he couldn’t speak. He detested being so stupidly speechless, merely crying. And showing such a pathetic side in front of his tormentor was something Sa-yoon would rather die than do.

He should have punched him and been arrested rather than show this, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“…….”

Han Do-hoon, watching Sa-yoon with pained eyes, silently pulled out a handkerchief. He paused with his hand in the air, then placed the handkerchief a little distance from Sa-yoon before rising from his seat.

The scrape of chair legs against the floor echoed in the silent space.

“If… if you truly dislike me that much, I will not approach you again.”

Even after delivering his final farewell, Han Do-hoon stood for a long time, gazing at Sa-yoon. As if waiting for Sa-yoon to grab him and say ‘no,’ he remained there before finally moving away. Quiet classical music played on, oblivious to Sa-yoon’s inner turmoil.

Left alone, weeping, Sa-yoon stumbled out of the restaurant. The car they had arrived in together waited for him by the roadside. Han Do-hoon was gone.

Sa-yoon, left by himself, sent the car away and walked alone once more.

The sandstorm’s gritty wind stung his eyes, causing fresh tears to flow. It was an end far simpler than he had imagined. Until the very last moment, Han Do-hoon had not threatened Sa-yoon.

He had retreated miserably, like someone who truly loved Sa-yoon, like someone who knew none of Sa-yoon’s weaknesses. That made it even more wretched.

The feeling of being the aggressor, as if he were to blame, was even more sorrowful and resentful.

Alone on the empty street, Sa-yoon trudged through the coarse sand, thick as raindrops. Once, when the rain poured, Han Do-hoon had held an umbrella over him. Everything had gone wrong since then.

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