Chapter 30
The night air clung damp against their skin as they slipped away from the party's golden haze into the sharp quiet of the city. Laughter and violins still drifted faintly from the ballroom behind them, but by the river there was only the sound of water lapping against stone and the distant hum of passing cars.
Gyu In loosened his tie with deliberate calm. His jaw stayed set, eyes sharp, as if he were still reading ghosts in the shadows. Beside him, Eun Wol lagged a step behind. His mask dangled loosely from his hand, breath uneven. Not from the escape, but from everything that had collided inside the ballroom. Eun Bin's face. Ji Hun's name, rising like a thorn in his chest. The steady hand at his waist that had both anchored and unsettled him.
Silence stretched between them, brittle and thin, until Gyu In spoke.
"You're trembling."
Eun Wol did not answer.
Gyu In looked down at their still intertwined hands. He slowed, then gently guided Eun Wol toward the rocky riverbank. They sat. A soft weight settled over Eun Wol's shoulders, pulling his unfocused gaze back to the present.
A blazer.
"Don't remove it," Gyu In said quietly. He faced the river, eyes fixed on the gentle current. "How are you feeling."
Eun Wol's fingers curled into the fabric, noting its smooth warmth beneath his touch. "I…" He swallowed. "I'm just glad I got to see my sister."
The words were soft, but they trembled as they left him. His grip tightened, knuckles paling.
Gyu In did not respond right away. He remained beside him, one knee bent, watching the river catch and scatter the dim glow of the city lights. His silence was not empty. It pressed down, heavy and thoughtful.
Eun Wol felt it. The unspoken weight settling between them, as if a question hovered in the air even without being spoken. Ji Hun's name lingered there, sharp and unavoidable.
When the quiet stretched too long, Eun Wol turned. His gaze caught on Gyu In's profile. The tight line of his jaw. The subtle movement of his throat, as though words had been swallowed before they could escape.
"You want to ask about Ji Hun, don't you." Eun Wol's voice cracked slightly. There was no accusation in it. Only weariness. Almost resignation.
Gyu In blinked, caught. He exhaled through his nose. "I don't want to push you." His eyes finally met Eun Wol's, steady and careful. "Not if it hurts."
Something loosened in Eun Wol's chest at that. The Gyu In from weeks ago and the Gyu In sitting beside him now were the same. He always held back. Always measured his words. Always chose not to add to Eun Wol's pain.
"It hurts either way," Eun Wol whispered, eyes dropping to the river. "Keeping it in. Pretending it doesn't matter. That hurts more." He drew in a shaky breath. "So I'll tell you. Because if I don't… I think it will eat me alive."
The current sounded louder, the world narrowing until it was only his voice and the man beside him.
"When I was little," he began slowly, fingers twisting into the blazer around his shoulders, "things were simpler. Then my mother passed. My father withdrew after that. Even when he was breathing, it felt like he wasn't really there."
His throat worked around the words.
"It was always just me and Eun Bin. So I learned early what silence felt like. What hunger felt like. What it meant to be afraid of being trapped."
"How old were you," Gyu In asked quietly.
"I was fourteen when my dad passed," Eun Wol said. His eyes burned, but he kept them open, watching the moon fracture across the ripples of the river. "Eun Bin was only nine. She only had me."
A pause.
"She always loved singing and dancing. It should not have surprised me."
"You decided to go with her," Gyu In said. There was no pity in his tone. No judgment. "You followed her. Because that was what she wanted."
A faint, bitter smile touched Eun Wol's lips. "I don't regret it. Back then, all I cared about was her safety." He exhaled slowly. "Until Ji Hun showed up."
The breath left him uneven.
"He was… light," Eun Wol said. "Too bright for someone like me. That's what I thought. But he kept showing up. Day after day." His fingers tightened again. "He made me feel less lonely. For a moment, I thought I could be myself around him."
The smile faded.
"But when everything fell apart. When Eun Bin and I needed him the most. He was the first to turn away." His voice fractured, raw and unguarded. "The one person I believed would never leave… did."
His breath stuttered.
"And it wasn't just betrayal. It felt like the air was stolen again. Like I was shoved back into that dark, suffocating box I thought I had escaped."
Silence followed. The river rushed on, indifferent.
Eun Wol buried his face briefly in his hands, then dragged them down, forcing himself to breathe. "…So when you asked me to trust you… I wanted to. I really did." His voice thinned. "But that shadow was always there. Reminding me how it felt when he left."
For a long moment, there was no response. Only the weight of night pressing in, the muted hum of the city lingering at the edges.
Then, slowly, Gyu In reached across the space between them and closed his hand around Eun Wol's.
Not prying.
Not pulling.
Just steady.
"You don't have to explain why it hurts," Gyu In said quietly, his voice low enough to be swallowed by the river. "But you did anyway. You let me see it." His thumb brushed once over Eun Wol's knuckles, grounding. "That means more than you think."
Eun Wol's throat tightened. He turned slightly, meeting Gyu In's gaze.
There was no pity there.
What he found instead was something heavier, warmer. An anchor he had not realized he had been reaching for all this time.
Then Gyu In spoke again, softer this time, the edge of humor slipping in as if to ease the ache. "Besides, you're stuck with me now. Even if you wanted to shove me out the window, I'm not leaving."
A weak laugh escaped Eun Wol before he could stop it. "…You'd probably get stuck halfway."
"Rude," Gyu In muttered, lips curving faintly. His hand did not loosen. If anything, his grip steadied further.
The air between them shifted. Heavier, but gentler too. For the first time in years, Eun Wol did not feel like his past was choking him. Someone else was holding part of its weight.
He wanted to say more. He might have.
But then—
Bzzzt.
Bzzzt.
The collar at Gyu In's neck vibrated faintly, followed by the sharp tone of an incoming call cutting through the quiet.
Gyu In's jaw tightened. He lifted his chin and pressed the receiver.
"Loverboy." Ryu Chan's voice crackled through, urgent. "Sorry to interrupt your date, but you better not be kissing under the moon right now because we've got a problem."
Eun Wol stiffened, heat rushing to his face despite the situation. Gyu In's expression flickered somewhere between irritation and reluctant amusement. He shot Eun Wol a sidelong glance before answering dryly.
"What is it."
"Two things," Ryu Chan replied without pause. "One, I heard every single word just now—"
Eun Wol's eyes widened, mortification flashing across his face. Gyu In almost coughed, tightening his grip on Eun Wol's hand instead of letting him pull away.
"And two," Ryu Chan continued mercilessly, "we just got new intel. And you're not going to like it."
The night, once softened by confession, hardened again into something sharper. Darker.
But this time, they were not facing it alone.