Chapter 105

“…Right now… No…”

Choking out a string of incoherent words, Kwon Haeju scanned his surroundings as his scattered senses finally snapped back into place. Only then did he register Nam Shin-hoo standing directly in front of him, his brow violently contorting.

“…I thought… you had left.”

The manic trembling in Kwon Haeju’s pupils slowly subsided as his lost focus returned. He viciously bit down on his bloodless, pale lips.

“Suddenly… I couldn’t feel anything…”

“What?”

“The ring… the signal cut off,” he breathed, his voice cracking. “I naturally assumed you had left while I was gone…”

Nam Shin-hoo glanced down at his own hand. His knuckles were bone-white from gripping the younger man’s collar, but his fingers were bare; he had left the silver band resting on his folded clothes before stepping into the bath.

“I told you I was going to take a bath,” Nam Shin-hoo said softly. “Of course I took it off.”

“…”

Kwon Haeju’s slightly parted lips trembled as the reality of the situation washed over him. Crushed beneath a tidal wave of profound relief, his long eyelashes fluttered uncontrollably. Without another word, Nam Shin-hoo pulled the violently shaking, hyperventilating man into a crushing embrace.

The lingering moisture clinging to Nam Shin-hoo’s un-dried skin quickly soaked through Kwon Haeju’s immaculate clothes. Now that the immediate crisis had been averted, the sheer horror of the reality finally sank in. Nam Shin-hoo realized exactly what had just happened.

He really tried to die. And without a single microsecond of hesitation.

A faint tremor traveled down to Nam Shin-hoo’s fingertips. Forcing strength into the corners of his mouth, he feigned a casual composure.

“Is the work okay? You must have rushed out right in the middle of it.”

“…I am f-fine.”

“Yeah? Let’s get some rest, then. Do you think you can stand?”

Giving a slight nod, Kwon Haeju gripped Nam Shin-hoo’s hand and hauled himself upward. His legs immediately buckled, forcing him to stagger wildly to maintain his balance. Pulling the lapels of his bathrobe tighter, Nam Shin-hoo firmly supported the heavier man’s weight and guided him up to the second-floor bedroom.

Kwon Haeju remained in a state of catatonic shock, sitting blankly on the edge of the mattress. Nam Shin-hoo methodically stripped away his outdoor clothes, tossing them carelessly aside before handing him a set of soft pajamas and guiding him under the covers. Yet, the younger man’s deathly pale face continued to twitch with unresolved anxiety. His hollow eyes tracked Nam Shin-hoo’s every microscopic movement. Even lying in bed, the extreme, suffocating tension strangling his body showed absolutely no signs of dissipating.

At this rate, resting was entirely impossible; his crippling obsession was only going to spiral further out of control. Gently patting Kwon Haeju’s erratically heaving chest, Nam Shin-hoo murmured an excuse.

“I’m going to step out to the annex for a second.”

“…Why are you going back there?” Kwon Haeju rasped immediately.

“To put the ring back on. You won’t be able to relax until I do.”

I can never take this damn thing off again, Nam Shin-hoo realized grimly. Brushing the dark hair from Kwon Haeju’s forehead one last time, he rose to his feet. He could physically feel the man’s terrified, piercing gaze drilling into his back as he hurried out the door and sprinted toward the bathhouse.

Upon re-entering the annex, he found his neatly folded clothes thoroughly trashed. In his desperate rush to throw on the bathrobe, he had knocked everything onto the wet tiles.

Worse, the ring he had so carefully set on top was nowhere to be seen.

“Haa…” Nam Shin-hoo exhaled roughly. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

He frantically scoured the floor, digging through the scattered garments and checking every crevice where a small metal band could have rolled. Thankfully, he located it relatively quickly. Tangled within a crumpled shower towel, the ring’s gem flickered with a faint, sickly dark-red hue—looking as though its light could completely extinguish at any moment. It was a perfect reflection of Kwon Haeju’s current psychological state. Nam Shin-hoo hastily shoved it back onto his finger.

When he returned to the second-floor bedroom, Kwon Haeju was lying completely paralyzed in the exact same position. Nam Shin-hoo approached the bed, his stomach churning with the terrifying thought that the man might have attempted another horrific stunt during those brief few minutes.

Instead, he was greeted by the harsh, sterile stench of familiar chemicals.

Resting on the bedside table lay a small brown glass vial alongside a discarded, thin syringe. Unable to endure even a few minutes alone with his own suffocating panic, Kwon Haeju had desperately drugged himself.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” a weary lament escaped Nam Shin-hoo’s lips.

Kwon Haeju was exactly like a severely fractured glass vase. From the outside, he appeared beautiful and flawlessly polished, yet he was harboring a massive, suffocating black storm cloud inside—a darkness constantly weeping and leaking through his shattered cracks.

Ding-dong.

The sudden chime of the doorbell shattered the heavy silence. Nam Shin-hoo flinched; it was the first time he had ever heard that sound in this house. This secluded location was entirely inaccessible to random solicitors, and Kwon Haeju possessed absolutely no personal acquaintances who would casually drop by. He hadn’t even disclosed this address to his own guild members.

Approaching the front entrance with extreme caution, Nam Shin-hoo strained his ears. A hesitant knocking echoed through the heavy wood, followed by a muffled voice.

“Um, Hyung? Are you okay?”

It was Kwon Shinju.

“You suddenly vanished from the meeting, so I came to check… Is something wrong?”

It seemed Kwon Haeju’s abrupt, desperate flight from his “unavoidable engagement” had prompted his younger brother to investigate. Nam Shin-hoo hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. If he wanted to honor Kwon Haeju’s demand for absolute secrecy, he should remain dead silent, hide his presence, and wait patiently for the drugged man to recover.

But if he kept doing that, absolutely nothing was going to change.

“Long time no see,” Nam Shin-hoo greeted, pulling the front door wide open.

Kwon Shinju’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull. “H-Hunter Nam Shin-hoo?”

The young man’s pitch-black pupils instantly flooded with moisture. Sucking in a sharp, ragged breath, his shoulders began to violently heave.

“I thought… I thought you were dead! Really… hic, huu-uhhh, really, I really did!”

A breathless, agonizing wail tore from his throat. It wasn’t a quiet weeping; it was a devastating outpouring of grief, as if a hardened mass lodged deep within his chest had finally ruptured. Grabbing Nam Shin-hoo by both arms, Kwon Shinju bent over and sobbed hysterically.

“I know. You must have been so worried,” Nam Shin-hoo murmured gently.

“It’s just… it’s such a relief. Truly. Hic… sob…“

Nam Shin-hoo patiently patted the violently trembling young man until his sobs slowly began to subside.

***

After allowing Kwon Shinju to cry his heart out in the entryway for a long time, Nam Shin-hoo finally ushered him inside. He pressed a steaming mug of tea into the young man’s hands. Sniffling wetly, Kwon Shinju took a tentative sip, thick tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“Feeling a little calmer now?” Nam Shin-hoo asked gently.

“I’m sorry, sniff. No, I mean… more importantly, when did you get back? How are you here with my brother?”

Having purged a portion of his overwhelming grief, Kwon Shinju practically overflowed with desperate questions. After bombarding Nam Shin-hoo with frantic inquiries about how he had survived, when exactly he had returned, and what horrific events he had endured, he scrubbed his swollen eyes with a rough sleeve.

“We finally reunite after all this time, and I’m still a complete mess. How embarrassing…”

“Don’t be. Given the circumstances, it’s completely understandable.”

Truthfully, Nam Shin-hoo found Kwon Shinju’s raw, unfiltered honesty incredibly refreshing. The only other person he had interacted with since his return possessed an emotional intensity so suffocating it was actively breaking his spirit.

“B-By the way, Hunter Nam Shin-hoo…”

Kwon Shinju’s gaze subtly drifted downward. Having practically sprinting out of the bathhouse to stop a suicide, Nam Shin-hoo was still exclusively wearing the thick bathrobe. It was undeniably a deeply confusing and highly questionable outfit to be wearing during their emotional reunion.

Pulling the lapels tighter across his chest, Nam Shin-hoo offered a vague deflection. “There’s a complicated reason for this. Just don’t mind it.”

“Yes, sir…”

“Anyway, how have you been?” Nam Shin-hoo pivoted smoothly.

“Me? I’ve been exactly the same. Ah, did you hear about the Epic Guild? We downsized operations, and I took over as the Guild Master. Hyung… he practically begged me to.”

Nam Shin-hoo nodded in understanding. While this was his first time explicitly hearing that Kwon Shinju had assumed the ultimate leadership role, it perfectly aligned with the older brother’s complete detachment from reality.

As they exchanged a few more mundane updates, a sudden thought visibly struck Kwon Shinju. He lifted his head eagerly.

“By any chance, have you met with Hunter Choi Kanghyeon yet? The Saint Guild is still—”

“No. Let’s save that conversation for later,” Nam Shin-hoo interrupted firmly.

“Pardon?”

“I plan to hear all about it from Kwon Haeju later.”

Kwon Haeju was already going to be terrifyingly volatile just from discovering Kwon Shinju inside the house. If Nam Shin-hoo actively dragged Choi Kanghyeon into the mix as well, the situation would detonate entirely. While intel regarding Choi Kanghyeon and the Saint Guild was arguably the information he desired most, he aggressively steered the conversation away.

Catching the underlying implication in Nam Shin-hoo’s reaction, Kwon Shinju parted his lips in silent realization before giving a solemn nod. The boy had truly grown up. Just as his older brother had matured physically, Kwon Shinju had blossomed into a remarkably dependable adult. Befitting his new status as Guild Master, his posture was far straighter, and his attire exuded a calm, grounded professionalism.

“My brother’s condition… it’s really bad, isn’t it?” Kwon Shinju asked quietly.

“It is.”

Fresh tears welled up in the young Guild Master’s eyes, this time born entirely from profound concern for his older sibling. Hastily swiping at his damp lashes with the edge of his sleeve, he let out a shaky breath.

“In the beginning, he was an even bigger mess than he is now. I was terrified he was going to drop dead at any given second, but… thankfully, he somehow managed to endure it.”

“…”

“He kept telling himself that Hunter Nam Shin-hoo had to be alive somewhere, so he had to keep waiting. That he couldn’t die until you returned.”

“…Is that right.”

While he had already deduced as much, hearing a third party explicitly confirm the horrific depths of Kwon Haeju’s suffering was a deeply unpleasant pill to swallow. It felt like a brutal, secondary confirmation that Nam Shin-hoo’s desperate choice had single-handedly shattered the man.

“Haha… But things will definitely get better now,” Kwon Shinju forced a hopeful, wet smile. “Because you’re finally back, Hunter Nam Shin-hoo.”

Will they? Nam Shin-hoo swallowed the dark, suffocating doubt clawing at his throat. Would Kwon Haeju actually stabilize now that he’s back?

A terrifying anxiety continued to gnaw at his mind, whispering that his return might actually make things worse. When Nam Shin-hoo was gone, the man had survived by clinging to a fragile hallucination. But now that his agonizing wait was over, Kwon Haeju had immediately woven a metaphorical noose and strapped it securely around his own neck.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you about him.”

There were countless questions he needed answered—about Kwon Haeju’s missing four years, his alarming mental deterioration, his terrifying insomnia—but one specific concern eclipsed all the rest.

“It seems like Kwon Haeju is physically incapable of eating food.”

“Ah…”

Since Nam Shin-hoo’s return, Kwon Haeju had proven he could fall asleep quickly and deeply under his watch, and aside from his sudden horrific episodes, his outward demeanor appeared remarkably stable. But there was one glaring exception: his diet hadn’t improved in the slightest. He still refused to eat properly, appearing physically repulsed by the very act of consuming anything solid.

“Honestly… I don’t really know the exact cause either,” Kwon Shinju admitted softly.

“You don’t?”

“I just know that he finds it incredibly difficult to chew. He severely struggles whenever any object touches his mouth, or when he has to put anything inside it.”

At those words, the violent memory of the living room flashed behind Nam Shin-hoo’s eyes.

In a desperate bid to shock Kwon Haeju out of his suicidal dissociation, Nam Shin-hoo had attempted to kiss him—only for the man to violently, reflexively shove him away.

It was the very first time Kwon Haeju had ever rejected him.