Chapter 27

In the dim light before dawn, the ruins of the Hyeonmyeong Construction building and the surrounding structures lay in heaps of shattered concrete and twisted steel. Everything had collapsed into darkness except the flames, which burned with mournful ferocity as they spread through the wreckage.

They must all be dead by now, right?

That pathetic little paper airplane couldn’t possibly have done anything, could it?

Firelight danced across Yu-su’s pupils, yet his entire body felt impossibly heavy, as though he were sinking into the depths of the sea. The world blurred around him while something dragged him steadily downward, toward the dark abyss waiting below.

What would happen if I just kept sinking like this?

Yu-su’s consciousness had begun to dissolve beneath that hollow, fleeting thought when a voice abruptly broke through.

“Do you want to be left alone?”

Yu-su raised his head and only then realized that he had lowered it. A broad shadow, one that had grown familiar over the past several days, approached at an unhurried pace. As the man stepped into the waning moonlight, its pale glow revealed a smooth forehead, sharply defined brows, and dark eyes filled with concern.

“You’re only using your injury as an excuse, aren’t you?” Muwon paused, watching him carefully. “Should I leave?”

Yu-su’s gaze fell helplessly. “No… Come here, Do Muwon.” His fingertips caught weakly at Muwon’s sleeve. In truth, they barely rested against the fabric rather than gripping it, so feebly that even the faintest breeze might have shaken them loose.

Muwon glanced from Yu-su’s pallid face to the fingers clinging to his sleeve, then gently tapped the back of his hand. “Fine. I have something to tell you too.”

“What is it?”

Yu-su withdrew his hand and retreated until his back met the wall beside the window. The waning moon cast its pale light across his face, revealing skin utterly drained of color.

Muwon brushed a stray lock of hair from Yu-su’s cheek. At the featherlight touch, Yu-su raised his eyes, and their gazes met in the half-light before dawn.

No longer reflecting the sparks scattering outside, those brown eyes looked entirely different from before. They seemed so fragile that even the faintest tremor might shatter them. For a long moment, neither man looked away.

Muwon swallowed hard before speaking, his husky voice scraping roughly against the silence. “I believe you now. About the loop.”

“…Yeah. Thanks.”

“So tell me more. There must be things I need to know.”

No answer came. After waiting for a while, Muwon released a quiet sigh and tried again.

“Or just tell me whatever you need to get off your chest.”

Yu-su slowly broke their locked gaze. His fingertips came to rest against the military identification tag hanging around Muwon’s neck, its metal surface gleaming faintly against his chest. Then he tipped his chin upward, rested the back of his head fully against the wall, and stared at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I’m still confused too. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“…The people who were there must all be dead, right?”

His gaze drifted from the ceiling and finally settled on the miserable remains of the Hyeonmyeong Construction office building. Beyond the window, that shattered fragment of the city lay blurred behind drifting ash and flame. He could not hear anything from this distance, but the ruins must have been filled with screams. No, by now, even the screaming had probably ended, leaving nothing but silence.

Self-loathing and bitter derision clouded Yu-su’s eyes.

“It’s hypocritical, isn’t it?” His mouth twisted faintly. “I didn’t have the courage to save them, but I still have enough guilt to mourn them.”

“Stop, Jeong Yu-su.”

A broad palm entered his field of vision and covered his eyes. Scorching warmth pressed against his skin, accompanied by a gentle, steady pressure. It was the only darkness Yu-su had encountered in the past several years that did not frighten him. With his eyes closed beneath Muwon’s hand, he whispered on a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

“You’re the one who told me to tell you everything a second ago.”

“No, you fucking idiot. I didn’t tell you to start tearing your own worth to pieces.”

“You’re angry, Do Muwon…”

The deliberate loneliness in his voice made Muwon grit his teeth.

“Yeah. Fine. Go ahead.” His jaw tightened. “Keep talking.”

“That’s all. There’s nothing else.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Frustration surged through Muwon so fiercely that he needed several deep breaths before he could steady his voice. “It isn’t your fault. Did you pray for the helicopter to crash? Were you the one who built the place so shoddily that the building collapsed?”

“…”

“I already told you. You’re not a god.”

A mere human could never perform the miracle of saving everyone or bringing the dead back to life. Yu-su might regret not acting more decisively, but regret did not mean he deserved to sacrifice himself and die alongside them. Irreconcilable contradictions crashed into one another inside him, battering his body from within. Only when the pressure became almost unbearable did Muwon’s voice reach him again.

“Then let me ask you something. When you die, do you return to the day before?”

“…Yeah. I’m not completely sure, but it has always been the previous day.”

“I think I’ve heard you mention it five or six times.”

“That sounds about right.” Yu-su hesitated. “…Hey, Do Muwon.”

Silence followed, as though Muwon were waiting for him to continue. Yu-su parted his lips several times, but no sound emerged. Only after a long hesitation did he place his pale palm over the back of Muwon’s hand, which still covered his eyes.

“I want to tell you a secret. Will you listen?”

Muwon answered that cautious, unspoken request with silence. Only then did Yu-su’s heavily suppressed voice slip free.

“Every death is too vivid.”

“…”

“That’s why it hurts when I talk about things like this.”

“You…”

“But I think I feel a little better now that I’ve said it aloud.”

Muwon’s breathing had already gone rigid. Although Yu-su could not see him, he could feel the weight of his gaze as distinctly as if it had taken physical form.

The corners of Yu-su’s mouth lifted slightly. When he opened his eyes, his long lashes brushed against Muwon’s palm.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You can’t even see me.”

“I can see everything.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What? What?”

“You’re putting on an act, Jeong Yu-su.”

Muwon’s palm, noticeably hotter than before, pressed gently against Yu-su’s eyes several more times before pulling away. Yu-su carefully rubbed his strained eyes.

“That’s it. Really. I’m done now.”

“Jeong Yu-su.”

“…”

Muwon waited until Yu-su stilled. “Look at me.”

Yu-su raised his lowered gaze and met Muwon’s eyes again.

“I heard you.”

Those added words tightened something in Yu-su’s throat, leaving him capable only of a slow nod.

Do Muwon’s features seemed hewn with force, from the sharp sweep of his brows and the intensity of his eyes to the tall, prominent bridge of his nose. His firm mouth alone was enough to make him appear ferocious, and perhaps that was why, whenever he spoke with such unwavering conviction, his words always managed to break Yu-su down and lift him back up at the same time.

Muwon caught Yu-su by the wrist and guided him toward the desk.

“Now, let me see the wounds.”

“My ankle is fine.”

“I know. It’s everything other than your ankle that isn’t.”

“…”

Muwon’s tone made it clear that concealing the injury was no longer an option. In the end, Yu-su sat in the director’s chair and unfastened his trousers. The dress slacks slid down his legs, revealing lean, well-defined thighs. Muwon pulled the flashlight from his back pocket, switched it on, and examined the injuries before clicking his tongue.

“Fucking hell. Your leg is shredded.”

“The cuts aren’t deep, so that’s something. A sprained ankle would’ve been much more troublesome.”

Abrasions covered Yu-su’s right thigh. Thin, elongated cuts that looked as though they had been carved by a knife streaked across his skin, each beaded with blood that stood out vividly against the unnatural pallor beneath it.

Muwon pressed his fingers firmly around the edges of the wound, and Yu-su instinctively curled his toes inside his shoes.

“See? It’s nothing. Injuries like this heal on their own, even without medicine.”

“Keep quiet. I’d at least like to disinfect it.”

Yu-su considered that for a moment, his brows drawing together. “The only medicine we have is a pain-relief patch. I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

“Wouldn’t the Korean medicine clinic have disinfectant?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see how things look tomorrow and ask them then.”

Muwon’s gaze remained fixed on the injuries covering Yu-su’s thigh. A sudden prickle of embarrassment crept over Yu-su, prompting him to take a tissue from the desk, wipe away the beads of blood, and pull his trousers back up.

“Let’s go. We need to get some sleep.”

“You sleep first. I’ll wake you later.”

“…”

“Don’t argue with me, Jeong Yu-su.”

Clack, clack.

Their footsteps echoed in a steady rhythm as they made their way back to the treatment room.

By the following morning, their need for medical supplies had become far more urgent. Yeong-ae delivered the news with her face darkened by worry.

“My mother has a fever.”

“Since when?” Muwon asked.

“I don’t know. When I woke up, she was burning up.”

The grandmother lay in one of the treatment-room beds, her entire body trembling violently with chills. Muwon drew a sharp breath before turning to Yeong-ae.

“I was going to ask about this anyway. Isn’t there any medicine in the herbal medicine room?”

“The herbal medicine room…” Yeong-ae faltered. “Yes, there’s medicine inside.”

“That’s a relief. We need disinfectant as well.”

Yeong-ae abruptly fell silent. Muwon waited for an answer, his brow gradually tightening.

“The herbal medicine room is locked. Don’t you have a key?”

His expression made it abundantly clear that, without one, he intended to break down the door. Seeing that, Yeong-ae released a deep sigh. Daeseok and Jujae, who had been standing near the grandmother, quietly approached.

Jujae hesitated before speaking. “Listen to me without panicking.”

“What is it?”

“There’s… a zombie in the herbal medicine room.”