Chapter 98: The Price of Color

“Yeowon.”

“……”

“Yeowon!”

“Ah.”

Lost in thought, he turned to Sagyeol as if asking what he wanted to say. Sagyeol suppressed the frustration that surged to his throat.

“Don’t think.”

“About what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking right now. Stop it.”

Yeowon offered no reply, only a troubled expression. Sagyeol snarled, pressing him, and after a long moment, Yeowon finally said, “It’s not as easy as that.”

He then zoned out again. Sagyeol’s fingers curled inward, his temper as tightly wound as his fists.

Things had been fine, even after the Shadow left. But ever since the messenger’s visit, Yeowon had been like this.

His body remained, yet his mind seemed miles away. Sagyeol detested it.

He called Yeowon’s name repeatedly, desperate to anchor him, but the light that had vanished from his eyes never returned.

Sagyeol sensed a shift in Yeowon.

Whether intentional or not, it was a gesture to put distance between them.

Sagyeol made no direct mention of it. Merely suspecting was one thing, but having it confirmed was another entirely.

Instead, he pushed Yeowon into bed whenever he found an opportunity.

Not even a fledgling just discovering lust would act like this. He mocked himself, yet he didn’t stop.

Instead, he walked a perilous tightrope between coercion and violence, keeping Yeowon trapped within his embrace.

Even as he held him tightly in his arms, his heart felt hollow. Unlike before, Yeowon didn’t seem truly present.

His body burned with heat, but his chest remained cold. Each time this happened, Sagyeol would delve deeper into Yeowon.

Pressing his lips against Yeowon’s steady heartbeat, feeling the warmth course through his veins against his bare skin, Sagyeol found a fragile comfort.

In those moments, Yeowon’s absence dwindled to a low-probability hypothesis, replaced by an unfounded belief.

It was nothing more than an attempt to forcibly bridge an emotional distance with physical proximity.

After nine days, Yeowon’s dazed gaze gradually fixed on a single point.

It was in the exact opposite direction of the floodwaters, towards Baekdam.

Sagyeol exploded.

“Don’t do this. If you act like this, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

The emotion that erupted from him was less red rage and more a chilling blue. Yeowon sat on the sofa, and Sagyeol gripped both his shoulders.

He silently met Yeowon’s eyes, which were clouded with a mixture of exhaustion and apprehension.

Yeowon was confused. He belatedly realized he had been staring into the distance. Opening his mouth as if to speak, he ultimately closed it without a word.

It was dawn, the boundary between yesterday and today.

Yeowon quietly opened his eyes. Standing in the cool, blue-gray space, he silently slipped out of the bedroom.

His bare feet carried him to the living room window. Below the still-dark sky, a bustling city stretched out, yet it was utterly still and quiet.

“If you’re thinking of leaving secretly, don’t.”

Yeowon turned. Sagyeol, having risen at some point, was leaning against the bedroom doorway.

“No matter who you are, you can’t get to Baekdam by drone. Even an airship would take four days.”

But Rephtha could go. If he set his mind to it and ran, he would see Baekdam’s outer walls before evening.

Yeowon knew this, yet he didn’t voice it. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the window, letting out a lament that was almost a whisper to himself.

“I tried not to think about it. Because whenever I did, no matter how many branches I explored, only one conclusion emerged.”

His hand rested against the glass. It was still brighter inside than out, and the window reflected a man with a rigidly blank expression.

He looked strong, yet he was a fragile human, trembling with more fear than anyone. He clenched his hand as if scratching the glass.

“I have to go. It’s the right thing to do.”

It was an announcement leaving no room for negotiation. His tone was akin to relaying an already decided fact.

Sagyeol knew this decision had been made long ago, perhaps even before the messenger’s visit.

From some unknown moment until now, Yeowon had thought and deliberated alone to reach his answer. There hadn’t even been an attempt to discuss it.

It felt as though lava had poured over Sagyeol’s head. What he found more intolerable than Yeowon reaching the wrong conclusion was the fact that he had been completely excluded from the process.

“What about me?”

“……”

“I thought we agreed to think about it together. Was my memory mistaken? What am I to you, exactly? If you’re going to come to conclusions alone like this, why are we even entangled? Did the fact that I’m your lover even cross your mind?”

Sagyeol, having uncrossed his arms, slowly approached. He didn’t seem particularly angry, and his steps were calm.

Yeowon instinctively recoiled from his steady advance, backing away until his back hit the glass within two steps.

With nowhere left to retreat, his face became as pale as the dawn outside.

Sagyeol stopped directly in front of Yeowon. No more words were exchanged.

He simply waited for an answer to his question. Yeowon, visibly flustered, clenching and unclinching his fists, finally spoke in a low voice.

“I don’t know.”

“‘I don’t know’ isn’t an answer.”

“Then what I can offer isn’t an answer, but merely an excuse. Because I truly don’t know.”

“You really—!”

Facing Sagyeol’s fury head-on, Yeowon covered his face with both hands. His broad shoulders hunched inward, and his upper body curled like a pill bug.

Sagyeol couldn’t shout anymore, only gasping for breath. Yeowon remained still.

Yet, his mind was far from peaceful. Like a lake holding molten lava, he simmered quietly before slowly opening his mouth.

“If I could, I’d erase him from my life. Every moment, I feel like I could pay any price, no matter how cruel. Why I made this decision, I truly don’t know. I deliberated, thought, and deliberated again. But I still don’t know.”

Sagyeol, who had been listening in silence, slowly extended his hand. He took Yeowon’s wrist, and when he pulled his hands away, Yeowon’s arms came with no resistance.

Revealed once more, Yeowon was crying.

As if on cue, teardrops fell, tapping against the floor. Yeowon bit his lip and continued.

“I know one thing: if you hadn’t been in the Middle Realm, I wouldn’t have made this decision.”

Infuriated, Sagyeol yanked the hand he held. Yeowon’s body swayed, pitching forward.

Startled, he threw his head back. Sagyeol’s face was so close, it seemed they might collide at any moment.

“So? Am I supposed to be touched? Am I supposed to be grateful? Damn it, Seo Yeowon. What on earth are you thinking with that pretty head of yours! You don’t actually believe that if I throw you into the Demon Realm and you survive, I’ll live happily ever after, do you?”

“……”

No. But neither could he stand by and watch Sagyeol face a terrible fate. Yeowon’s tears didn’t stop, yet his mind gradually regained its composure.

He turned his head, avoiding Sagyeol’s gaze, and unrefined words tumbled out.

“Before I was sent to the Demon Realm, I was just breathing. I never thought it would be better to die, but I didn’t particularly want to live either. But looking back, I think I probably did want to die. My life was entirely monochrome, so I just didn’t know exactly what that feeling was. But…”

Yeowon’s voice trailed off. Sagyeol didn’t dare open his mouth; he knew exactly what words were about to follow.

“But after I met you, the world gained color.”

Yeowon’s confession was as quiet and composed as ever, almost serene. Only the emotions it contained churned like a tempest.

“You were like a comet. The colorful stars that fell from you to me created explosions, big and small. So much so that it was regrettable how little it showed on the surface. I was overturned and mixed… becoming who I am now.”

‘The me who loves you.’

His final words were blurry and ethereal, like a pale violet mist. Sagyeol suddenly realized this was the first time Yeowon had spoken at such length.

He was also surprised by the richness of his vocabulary. Hadn’t he carried a dictionary in his pocket back in Baekdam?

‘No, rather, that’s why…’

The unproductive thought didn’t linger. At that moment, he had no room in his mind for anything else.

Yeowon, through Sagyeol, had come to understand how radiant the word “new” truly was. The man before him was dazzling.

Sagyeol was bewildered. In the prelude to a fight, he had suddenly received a profoundly heartfelt confession.

But could he really be happy, utterly devoid of pride?

‘Shit.’

He realized his pride was nothing but a scrap of paper. He pulled Yeowon’s hands, which he had been holding, with renewed force.

Sagyeol wrapped his arms around Yeowon’s swaying body, finding his lips and kissing him. Yeowon’s head tilted back, and the lingering tears stained Sagyeol’s cheek.

The spot burned as if touched by fire.

Yeowon had compared Sagyeol to a comet, but Sagyeol felt that Yeowon was truly like a star.

A steadfast, chilling star that would shine alone even on the day of destruction, when the night sky was filled with utter darkness.

Sagyeol was utterly consumed by Yeowon. He was there at the beginning and end of countless thoughts.

Naturally, the moment he wished to live out the rest of his life with him, Sagyeol understood Yeowon’s feelings.

He suddenly wanted to live, desperately.

“More than my own life, I’ve come to wish for you to live happily and without incident.”

Yeowon spoke, his timing impeccable.

“Even if we deliberate together, the predetermined outcome won’t change. The end will still be ruin. Knowing that, I can’t drag you into it.”

“So you’re just going to throw yourself away? Why don’t you fight back? I’ll be with you—”

“No.”

It felt like talking to a wall. Sagyeol found Yeowon more unfamiliar now than when he first met him two years ago.

He couldn’t understand why Yeowon would give up without even trying. More than that, he was furious that Yeowon had so easily let go of himself, and of their relationship.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Of course I don’t. Because you haven’t told me.”

It was a slip of the tongue. Sagyeol paused, but he didn’t correct himself, apologize, or say he’d spoken wrongly.

Instead of responding, Yeowon lowered his head.

“You’re right. I haven’t told you. And I probably won’t be able to in the future. So… please break up with me.”

Sagyeol choked. Yeowon’s return to honorifics felt like a declaration of returning to the past, to a time when they were nothing to each other.

Yeowon’s proposal was a one-way street, a music box playing only a single tune.

“Please.”

“You said you’d die with me. Are you afraid to die now?”

Sagyeol snarled like a beast, and,

“If it were just dying, that would be fortunate.”

Yeowon chuckled. It was a laugh of complete surrender.

Sagyeol seized Yeowon’s shoulders forcefully. In Yeowon’s self-deprecating, curved eyes, Sagyeol saw the terror deeply rooted in his soul.

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