And that meant—
Hewas a liability now.
No, Seungho corrected himself savagely. Not a liability. A target.
That was the cost.
The moment Seungho chose him, he made Haneul vulnerable. Exposed. A threat to the wrong families. A flame the old guard would rather smother than see lit.
And Seungho—he knew how they worked. He had been them. He could play the game better than anyone. But this wasn’t about chess moves anymore.
It was about someone who slept with a thumb tucked in a book and a storm tucked behind his teeth. Someone who trusted him.
And he didn’t know how to hold that trust without breaking it.
So he stood there, fists clenched, breathing shallow.
Not rejecting.
Not doubting.
Just freezing—like every time the stakes got too close to his skin.
And when he finally lay down beside Haneul—back-to-back, not touching—he didn’t sleep.
He just listened.
To Haneul’s breathing.
To the city below.
To the slow, ticking sound of time running out.
??????
Themorning came early.
Haneul stirred first, blinking blearily at the book still on his chest.
The other half of the bed was already empty. Cold.
He found Seungho in the kitchen, back to him, sleeves rolled, coffee mug in hand. There was a stiffness in his posture that hadn’t been there the morning before. No smirk. No reach. No teasing grab at his ankle or dramatic groan about dish duty.
“Morning,” Haneul said, quietly.
Seungho glanced over his shoulder. “Mm.”
That was all.
It took five minutes of silence before Haneul slammed his cup down harder than necessary.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or do I have to guess?”
Seungho didn’t look at him. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Liar.”
“Eat your breakfast, Sky.”
