Chapter 173

“Did it go well?”

The man sitting in front of Jongsik, whose face was paler than usual as if he’d been tormented in my absence, turned his head. I closed the office door behind me and perched on the armrest of the sofa.

“Well, more or less.”

“Judging by your expression, it seems your mood has improved. That’s a relief.”

“Well…”

I touched my own face. It was only natural that my mood would improve. Anyone who saw the flushed, heated expression on Han Geon-joo’s face would have been unable to stifle their laughter.

It was hilarious how the pretty-faced kid would shoot his eyes wide, his face turning red as he fumed with irritation.

As a loose smile spread across my lips, Jaehee walked over and sat down on the sofa. The white Fenrir had, at some point, moved to its master’s side and was now rubbing against him.

“Is your conversation finished?”

“For the most part.”

“How did he seem?”

“Han Geon-joo?”

“Yes.”

“How did he seem?”

He seemed thoroughly pissed off.

He was probably back in the room right now, picking up the pillow he threw and fuming. That was the truth, but if I answered Lee Jaehee that way, I’d just get a pathetic look and a lecture like, ‘Mockery and mean-spirited pranks are not effective means of communication, Sa-yoon-ssi.’ So, I changed the subject.

“He’s just… the same as ever.”

Still quick to anger, still impossible to read, still childish, and still despicable.

And still…

“He cried.”

He was a soft one.

After my blunt statement, I lay back from my perch on the armrest and fell onto the sofa. Thud. As the full weight of a grown man landed on it, the cushion sank deeply, and my body dipped slightly with it.

I stared silently at the clean, patternless ceiling. Maybe it was because the wallpaper was so white, but if I stared long enough, Han Geon-joo’s black hair would naturally sketch itself there, and beneath it, his features would appear just as vividly. His face filled my vision, and I was so absorbed in admiring the image that I couldn’t speak. No one in the room rushed me as I fell silent after mentioning that Geon-joo had cried.

“…He said he’d even received a System Quest because he was curious about my story. I was wondering how he’d react if he heard it from me directly, so I told him, and he cried.”

My head turned towards Jaehee.

“Even you didn’t cry.”

“…Well, I’m not really the crying type.”

“And he, the one who cries a lot, didn’t sob as sorrowfully as that.”

I said, glancing at Jongsik.

Jongsik didn’t know the details of my relationship with the System in the first place. He only knew that I was living a life that wasn’t free because of it, constantly tormented by its threats, and that I wanted to escape. That was why he had been so shocked after Geon-joo left, when I had attempted suicide hundreds of times.

He probably never knew I was that desperate.

“…Am I supposed to cry now, sir?”

“No.”

I stopped Jongsik, who looked ready to burst into tears on command, and stretched my legs out, resting them on the sofa’s armrest. I hadn’t meant it as an order to cry. It was just… it felt strange. And fascinating.

I had never imagined a day would come when someone would cry for me.

Maybe that’s why you remained so vividly in my memory.

I mumbled the name of the unforgettable boy, my dry lips parting. No one had ever cried for me, but that boy alone had pitied me, cried for me, and died for me, and so he was etched this deeply in my memory.

In that case, will you be remembered like that too?

I calmly replayed the image of Geon-joo’s miserable face, tears streaming down. As I slowly and leisurely confronted the emotions I hadn’t been able to face properly with the crying person right in front of me, Jaehee, who had been stroking the head of the now-sleeping Rai, opened his mouth.

“Do you know how a summoner forms a contract with a summon?”

“Don’t you just get them through the System?”

There was very little information available about summoners, so I asked vaguely. Jaehee shook his head.

“There is a separate domain for summons. When a summoner’s capacity to handle summons increases, they go there to form a contract. It’s a place only summoners can enter, and a place that cannot be spoken of carelessly to non-summoners, so it’s likely not a widely known story.”

“Wait, I’m not a summoner.”

As I listened, it sounded like something I wasn’t supposed to hear. I raised a hand. I gave him a look that said, ‘If you can’t speak of it carelessly, why are you telling me?’ Lee Jaehee just had a soft smile on his lips. My brow furrowed.

“If you don’t want to feel a knife at your throat, you should stop.”

It was a roundabout warning not to use One Who Pierces Heaven’s Secrets for something like this. Jaehee just laughed.

“I met Rai after I lost my lover. When I came out of the Gate, it said I had achieved a great feat and was allowed to handle an additional summon, but at the time, I had neither the strength to handle a new summon nor the energy to form a new bond. Still, I went to that domain simply because I wanted to run away. Because I knew no one would be able to find me there.”

And then he continued his story. He was the type to completely ignore what was said to him.

“I think I was holed up there crying for about three days. I thought I had cried a lifetime’s worth of tears there, but at some point, a white wolf was beside me. At the time, Rai was much smaller than he is now, so I didn’t know he was a Fenrir. I just thought he was a young wolf.”

I feigned an attitude of half-listening. It wasn’t as if doing so would reduce the lifespan Jaehee was expending to use One Who Pierces Heaven’s Secrets. While putting on this small protest, I kept my ears wide open and listened.

I couldn’t let the lifespan he was so preciously using go to waste.

Though I was sure it wasn’t obvious, our eyes met, and the man exchanged a look with me and gave a strange smile. 

Tsk. 

I clicked my tongue to myself and nodded for him to continue.

“I wondered what this wolf was doing here and checked on him, and he had a large wound on his belly, so I gave him a potion. It looked like he had been attacked by other summons, so I treated him. In return, Rai licked my crying face. I think he was comforting me as thanks for the treatment. Or perhaps he approached me out of sympathy for a kindred spirit. My situation, estranged from my group, must have looked similar to his.”

It wasn’t a very interesting story, but Lee Jaehee laughed softly and stroked Rai.

“From that day on, whenever I cried, Rai would comfort me by my side, and whenever Rai came back injured, I would treat him with potions. As we did that, we ended up forming a summoner’s contract, and I gained a new skill. They say it’s a skill you get when you form a perfect bond with a summon. Isn’t it strange?”

To find a new connection in a place I went to mourn a lost one.

Jaehee stopped stroking and looked at me. Then, the man gave me a good-natured smile and unsummoned the white Fenrir. As he quietly watched the Fenrir disappear, his lips parted in the silence.

“I hope that such a connection finds you as well, Sa-yoon-ssi.”

“…”

“If a wound can’t be erased, you should try to find comfort and give comfort, praying that at least the scar will fade.”

Perhaps it’s already by your side.

The man added in a gentle voice and glanced at the clock on the wall. It’s time to go. The words were quite ambiguous. I couldn’t tell if it was time for him to go or for me to go. What was certain was that a lot of time had passed while listening to his story. I checked the time, saw that it was now dawn, and got up from my seat.

“Are you leaving, sir?”

Jongsik, who had been sitting with a sleepy face, shot up.

“Yes.”

I glanced once at Lee Jaehee, turned towards the door, then stopped. “You should get some rest, too.”

“…Yes, you get some rest too, hyungnim.”

Jongsik, who looked momentarily surprised, bowed his head. I gave Lee Jaehee, who was smiling and seeing me off from Jongsik’s office, a strange look. He was the one who said it was time to go, yet I was the only one leaving the room. It was a funny sight.

Is he giving the two of them more time alone?

There was no need for that anymore, yet he was being unnecessarily considerate. Muttering that being a busybody was also a disease, I shook my head, closed the door, and headed back to my room.

“You’re asleep.”

I had a faint inkling from just outside the door, but coming inside and seeing the sleeping Han Geon-joo with my own two eyes made it feel real. I thought he’d still be fuming, unable to contain his anger, but he had fallen asleep. The day must have been exceptionally tiring for him.

Well, he did cry that much.

He had every reason to be drained. I looked down silently at the sleeping figure, pushed him over to one side of the bed, and then lay down myself. In that state, I mulled over Jaehee’s words. Was he saying that Geon-joo cried to comfort me? I was contemplating that thought.

“…”

The sleeping man rolled over towards me. I glanced at the other person’s arm that had landed on my waist, then studied Geon-joo’s face. Just in case, I sharpened my senses, but I didn’t feel anything unusual in his breathing. It meant he was really asleep.

“…What is this?”

He didn’t have this sleeping habit when I saw him before.

He used to sleep so still you’d think he was dead, but it seemed he had developed a new habit in the time I hadn’t seen him. Thinking he had picked up a strange habit, I frowned and reached out to push him away, but then I froze.

‘I’m in a situation where I need some human warmth.’

Of all things, those words had to pop into my head right now.

He said he was trapped alone in a desolate tower. I thought back to the story he had told me, hesitated, then pulled the blanket up. He said he needed warmth, so I figured covering him warmly with a blanket would do the trick. But a moment later, Geon-joo rolled over again.

His arm rested on my waist, and his right leg was slightly hooked over my left. The movement, as if determined to make contact with another person no matter what, brought many thoughts to mind. With a sigh, I reluctantly turned my body towards him and observed his sleeping face.

I was planning to stop being a pushover, but since it’s come to this, I’ll let it slide just one more time. What can you do?

The one with power always has to take that much responsibility.

I closed my eyes, imagining Gyeongjin foaming at the mouth and shouting, ‘Hyungnim, since when did you have such upright ideals? How about you take some responsibility for my overworking?!’