Chapter 72
The room fell into a long silence after the word why.
“The reason I didn’t stop you from associating with Han Jaemin was because I thought it would benefit you.”
“Benefit me?”
I let out a hollow laugh. Benefit. My father seemed to live solely for profit and loss. He was the polar opposite of my mother, who was ruled by irrational, illogical emotions. So what on earth had made him marry her? Had he ever felt that useless emotion—even once?
“Some relationships carry political weight just by existing.”
“So you let me interact with Han Jaemin for your political gain?”
“What do you think it was for?”
“You know better than I do. Why ask me?”
“What Han Jaemin is trying to achieve.”
I blinked slowly.
“Whether he succeeds or fails, it won’t affect me. I don’t have that kind of political leverage.”
“Surprising. I thought you’d manufacture politics if you had to.”
“You’ve always seen me that way, haven’t you? That’s why you’ve hidden everything from me.”
“Ah, no. That’s a misunderstanding. I just didn’t want to share secrets with you.”
This time, my father looked at me slowly. Our eyes met in the air—an indescribable, strange feeling.
“But, Chanhee.”
I turned away to escape that feeling. It was the same nauseating sensation I’d felt earlier with my mother.
“If you get entangled, I change too.”
“…”
“I’m not asking you to share all your secrets. Just your safety—”
“Father.”
I cut him off and took a short breath.
“I’ve never asked you for help. In fact, I hate you.”
“Is that how you truly feel about me?”
“Yes. If I weren’t your son, none of this would have happened.”
“I see.”
My father was silent for a few seconds.
“Dr. Jeon said you won’t last a year.”
“Is that so?”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“I don’t know.”
Death didn’t scare me. I was already too worn down for fear.
Seeing my indifferent expression, my father licked his dry lips.
“I… am afraid.”
“What?”
The unexpected answer made me reflexively question him. The word afraid from him felt alien, unfamiliar.
“Your mother would lose her mind if she knew.”
“…”
“Why would I be afraid?”
This question usually had a standard answer. But I had never imagined that standard answer would apply to my parents. They weren’t incapable of love—my father occasionally did things for me that served no practical purpose. He did love me as his son. But that love was fundamentally different from what other parents felt.
“We lost a lot when we lost your brother.”
“…Why are you appealing to my emotions? Shouldn’t you be above that?”
“You’re right. I used to be. Until we lost your brother.”
I wanted to run. Ever since I learned the truth about my father, I had wanted to sever all ties with this family—this formal, hollow structure. Murderer. Psychopath. Sociopath. I wasn’t born Yu Chanhee, so I could label them that way without hesitation.
“I can’t bear to lose you too.”
“…”
“Stop associating with Hansung. Dr. Jeon said he’ll find a solution quickly, so cooperate with them.”
“What do you think caused my mana to amplify?”
“Do you think I care about the method?”
“What?”
“If I cared, I would’ve experimented on myself long ago. What I care about is your life and safety.”
“But—”
“Don’t associate with them. I’ll handle everything on my end. Don’t even contact them.”
Could my father really handle Han Jaemin? I weighed the two men in my mind like scales. Han Jaemin had countless connections—politicians, business elites, potential followers—and his abilities and information were vast. He had choked me and demanded necromancy without a second thought after killing dozens. My father’s weakness, on the other hand, was glaring. He had just revealed his vulnerability: family. That was the perfect leverage for Han Jaemin. Could my father really take him down?
“I can’t promise that.”
Even as I said it, I knew how contradictory I was. I hated them both, yet I found myself leaning toward my father’s words—his attempt to protect me—over Han Jaemin’s manipulation. Another irrational, illogical thought.
“I honestly doubt you can fully protect me from Han Jaemin.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Even if there are others, isn’t that the bottom line?”
“…I see.”
My father pressed his temples, exhaling as if in pain.
“Just… try.”
“…”
“Even if you can’t promise.”
“…”
“Try not to end up like your brother.”
“…Yes.”
It was an answer I couldn’t refuse. With that, I turned and left the room. My chest felt tight. This pain was different from the burning sensation that morning—deeper, more suffocating. Irrationality. Illogic. Why was I always dragged down by them? They weren’t even my real parents.
***
When I went upstairs, Yu Hyunjae was sitting in the living room, as expected. He looked a little tired. Without thinking, I rushed over and hugged him.
“I’m exhausted.”
“…Exhausted?”
“Yeah. A nosebleed turned into way too much.”
“…Just a nosebleed?”
“…Yeah.”
I realized Yu Hyunjae wasn’t hugging me back. His voice was gentle as always, but I could sense walls growing between his words. The lies I had told to avoid his hatred were now sprouting, vines wrapping around me.
“Chanhee.”
“Hmm?”
“I just want you by my side.”
“Hmm.”
“Why do you disappear a little more every day?”
“Hyunjae.”
“Do I just have to keep waiting?”
“…”
“Can I just wait forever?”
“It’s not like that—”
“You don’t know how much this tortures me.”
Yu Hyunjae’s voice rose half a tone. I pulled away and stared at him, shocked.
“I wait every day. I worry because I don’t know when you’ll come back. And when you do, I just have to hold you without knowing if you’re hurt, in pain, or why.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“We both know that’s not the answer I want.”
“…”
“Who are you? Are you really Yu Chanhee?”
“Huh?”
“Or just someone wearing his skin?”
I froze, unable to move a finger. Yu Hyunjae continued, his voice still agitated.
“It’s almost funny. If someone showed up tomorrow in Yu Chanhee’s skin and lied to me about everything…”
“…”
“I’d probably believe them. Even if I knew it wasn’t true.”
I needed to sort through the emotions that had stormed through me all day. My way of processing had always been Yu Hyunjae. I had thought our relationship—irrational, illogical—was the most selfish, calculated bond I had. Yet here I was, selfishly clinging to him, my only answer:
“I’m sorry.”
Yu Hyunjae closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing his emotions, then walked past me into his room. Only then did I notice the scattered booklets and printed papers where he had been sitting. They were in English, but the content was easy to understand. He had been agonizing over whether to leave me or stay. And I had let go of his hand.
***
Ironically, we maintained the same relationship. The same conversations, the same routines, the same laughter. The only thing missing was physical touch. I floated in a space slightly detached from reality until Go Hankyul approached us with his usual expression and asked if we’d practiced for tomorrow.
“Practice?”
Go Hankyul looked at me like I was crazy.
“Did you forget because of a nosebleed? The sports festival is tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
Saying oh felt absurd. A sports festival in the middle of all this? For a moment, I felt my floating body touch the ground. I still had a mundane life to cling to.
