Ten days passed in the blink of an eye.
Every morning, he would wake Dano and help him sling on his yellow backpack before stepping out the front door — and somehow, as if he always knew, Hyeon would appear in the yard right on cue. After dropping Dano off at daycare and returning home together, Hyeon would naturally head toward his car, and Seowoo would climb into the passenger seat.
There were no questions like Where are we going today? Hyeon would check that Seowoo had his seatbelt on and start the engine without a word. From early morning until 3 p.m. when Dano was picked up, Hyeon would choose and capture light and color, and when the time came, they would return home together.
The strange daily routine became familiar — feeling almost natural — before even two days had passed.
Is this really okay?
There was no room for unease to settle in. Maybe it was because Hyeon always wore such an unbothered expression. He gave no reasons, so there was nothing to argue against. He offered no explanations, so there was no opening to pull away.
Jingle. The green door swung open with the sound of a bell.
While Seowoo was wiping down the display case, Donghyeok walked into the shop with snacks in both hands. He set the thick paper bag on top of the café bar, and when he opened it, a sweet cream puff scent wafted out. He smacked Min Sangoh’s hand away as it immediately reached in, then called out to Seowoo.
“Come eat while there are no customers. You must have worked off dinner by now.”
“Where’s Dano?”
“Mom took him to her gathering.”
Seowoo walked over quickly and popped two manjus into his mouth at once. The hot cream filling had his tongue working furiously, and Sangoh, standing beside him, swiftly handed him a cold glass of milk. Donghyeok crossed his arms and grinned as he watched Seowoo gulp it down without even managing a word of thanks.
“Hyeon is in his room.”
“……Huh?”
“When you’re not around, he doesn’t step one foot out of that room. My gut says he’s not even eating dinner. I’ve never seen him leave. Not even for delivery.”
Donghyeok said it in a pointed tone, watching Seowoo’s face all the while. Seowoo busied himself rummaging through the manju bag for no real reason.
“Is that so……?”
“Thought you might be curious.”
“Curious about what? I’m not curious.”
“Yeah, sure. Let’s say that.”
The moment Donghyeok nodded with a teasing grin, Sangoh wedged himself between the two of them with a coffee in hand.
“So how long is this going to keep up? A month?”
“I don’t know. It must be inconvenient for you, Sangoh.”
“No, I’m fine with Donghyeok too, it’s just……”
Sangoh scratched the edge of his eyebrow, gave a small laugh, and then added what he actually wanted to say.
“I’m just worried about your shop. Donghyeok broke something again yesterday. He’s so hopeless — when customers ask him anything, all he does is fumble through some half-baked answer.”
“Hey, are you seriously tattling on me?”
“Be grateful I’m saying it to your face instead of behind your back, you idiot.”
“It’s fine. Donghyeok will pay for everything he breaks. Sales go up too, so what’s there to complain about.”
“Wow, not a single person on my side.”
“Did you ever think there would be?”
Seowoo laughed awkwardly as he stood between the two of them and their easy bickering. Right, how long will this go on? It was something Seowoo wondered about too.
While the three of them bickered, the door jingled once more. A customer heading straight for the café area came in, and Sangoh quickly cleared away the manju bag and slipped behind the bar to greet them.
Donghyeok trailed after Seowoo as he made his way back toward the display case.
“Hey.”
“What.”
“Honestly, you like it, don’t you?”
Seowoo balled his hand into a fist and raised it right in front of Donghyeok’s nose.
“Like what? There’s nothing to like. I still haven’t forgiven you.”
“For someone who says that, you’ve been grinning pretty easily.”
“Would you stop.”
“Do what I say and good things fall right into your lap, man. Right now you look like a salaryman on vacation — seriously healthy color in your face. You’re getting paid, going out to take photos. Seems like you’ve got nothing but good things thanks to me.”
“……Well, it’s not bad.”
When Seowoo made the small admission, Donghyeok’s eyes lit up.
“See? There it is. There it is.”
“Keep it down.”
“Be honest with me. You’ve been sleeping well lately, haven’t you?”
Seowoo paused at that question. He gripped the ceramic figurine he’d lifted to rearrange in his hand.
Should I call it getting better, or getting worse.
When he was out with Hyeon, there were definitely moments where he felt like he could breathe again. Whenever he faintly caught the pheromones of the man who had been so deeply imprinted on him during his first heat cycle, his body would act normal, just for a little while. He’d feel a sense of stability, of comfort — relaxing almost on its own.
But at night, it was the opposite. He dreamed endlessly. The vivid dreams cornered him with nowhere to escape, and for some reason, he couldn’t even wake up in the middle of them. Every night was nothing but endless flailing. By morning, he’d wake up exhausted, soaked in sweat and other fluids — just that morning, he’d actually wondered if he should start taking red ginseng supplements.
Seowoo’s cheeks flushed without him realizing it, and Donghyeok snickered watching him.
“What, so it’s actually true.”
“You think pheromones are some kind of magic? It’s not that simple.”
“Simple enough to make Dano.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t hit me. But still — it’s not as dangerous as you imagined, is it? If you just keep getting better like this, and then Hyeon goes back, that’s even better.”
Seowoo let out a sigh at the breezy take.
“I think that’s a little too convenient of a way to think about it. We don’t even know what the author’s — what Hyeon’s — purpose is……”
“Stop overcomplicating it.”
“Honestly, I don’t even know if I’m getting better.”
Seowoo murmured under his breath as he set the ceramic figurine back in its place.
“It can’t be resolved that easily either.”
That’s just how my life goes — always tripping over my own two feet.
Donghyeok poked Seowoo in the side. He was wearing the same expression he used to make back in their school days whenever he was cooking up something terrible.
“Then try getting a little closer. Go for it — bold. Think about the results after. If you need a night, or hey, even two nights — that’s fine. I’ll have Dano sleep over at my place.”
“……You’re out of your mind.”
“We’re all adults here. It’s not like anything wears out.”
“Something does wear out. My sanity wears out.”
“You find it sweet?”
Seowoo was balling his fist up again when the door jingled. This time, the customers headed straight for the decorative items section. Seowoo hastily shoved down the urge to commit violence, pulled on his best customer service smile, and turned around. As the customers bombarded him with questions, Donghyeok seized the opportunity and slipped out the back, escaping out of the shop.
But the question Donghyeok had thrown out still lingered. Even as Seowoo tended to the customers, his mind kept drifting back to Hyeon.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
This is honestly the scariest part. The deeper he fell, the worse the fallout would clearly be. Donghyeok, knowing nothing, was casually telling him to just dive into a lake that looked like it would give him a cold just from dipping a toe in.
***
Late in the evening, Hyeon stepped out into the yard.
During the day — more precisely, while Yoon Seowoo was by his side — his vision had been fine, but now it was noticeably dead and gray. He had hoped that spending time near him would help his broken body recover from the shock. Instead, it only grew more parched. It was like someone who had tasted something and lost it again suffering far more than before they’d ever had it.
“Hah……”
Hyeon held his camera and looked up at the sky. The night sky, framed like a square by the walls of the courtyard. The residual glow of the streetlamps outside bled across that boundary, blurring the edges. It looked almost like an old, faded black-and-white photograph.
Nearly a thousand days of slowly losing the ability to distinguish color, and then ultimately losing all of it entirely. How he had endured that long stretch of time, he could no longer fathom. The vision that had gone dead again felt nothing but cruel.
Hyeon raised his camera and pressed the shutter. Click — the mechanical sound rang out, hollow.
Just a few hours ago, even the photos he had taken with Yoon Seowoo had faded to colorlessness under his eyes. He wondered if looking through the camera lens — the way he did during the day — might let him glimpse color, even for just a moment. He tried, clinging to an absurd hope. It was just as he expected. The LCD monitor showed nothing but grayscale.
The cherry blossoms that had burst into full bloom over the past ten days were scattered like white paint flicked across black paper. He was, by nature, someone who was deeply captivated by beautiful things. That was why he had started painting. He would be so entranced by the color and fragrance of things, the vivid outline of light, that he’d stand still for hours, unable to move.
Click — the sound of the gate opening, and Yoon Seowoo stepped into Hyeon’s line of sight.
The wind blew, and cherry blossom petals cascaded down like a downpour. Caught in the shower of petals, Yoon Seowoo squinted one eye and swept his disheveled hair back. A pale, small face — and from its center, color slowly bled outward. Everything grew unusually vivid, then luminous, then blurred softly together into something radiant.
Yoon Seowoo came running toward Hyeon, who stood there in a daze.
“Hyeon!”
Seowoo came to a stop right in front of him, rising up on his tiptoes. He raised a hand to shield his eyes like a visor and looked up at Hyeon with wide, round eyes, his red lips parting into a small circle.
“It’s raining. Your camera’s going to get wet.”
Even hearing the urgent voice, Hyeon couldn’t move right away. He could finally feel the raindrops tracing down his cheeks — and yet he only blinked, turned stupid by the violent beauty that had taken over his entire being.
“Hyeon? Hurry.”
Hyeon stared down at the pale hand gripping his forearm. The tip of the thumb pressing down had gone white from the pressure, and beneath it, a small pink half-moon formed. The feel of a body pressing against his was startlingly real, and somewhere inside him something crackled and burst open.
“Yoon Seowoo.”
Finally coming back to himself, Hyeon bowed his head as if under a spell and pressed his lips to Yoon Seowoo’s reddened mouth.
