“I’m sorry—I’m sorry I left you behind—I’m sorry—I’m sorry…”
Seungho’s breath hitched. His whole frame shook with it. He bent his forehead to Haneul’s, clutching him close enough that their ribs met, his mouth against the boy’s hair.
“You didn’t leave,” he whispered. “I’m right here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Paramedics swarmed. Hands pulled. Voices shouted.
He didn’t let go.
Don’t take him from me again. Don’t you dare.
They had to pry him off.
Even then—he went with them. Into the ambulance.
Hand still gripping Haneul’s.
The sirens wailed.
Haneul’s eyes fluttered closed.
Seungho’s chest clenched so hard he thought it might split open again, the old wound screaming inside him.
He whispered into the noise—barely sound, barely breath.
“Please. Not this time.”
??????
Chapter 47 – Untilthe Snow Forgets
It began with ash.
Not the hospital.
Not the fire.
Not pain.
Just ash.
It swirled like snow over the edge of a valley—delicate, slow, almost gentle.
But the smell gave it away.
Smoke. Magic. Burnt earth. The char of wood and something worse—old blood, too long soaked into the soil.
Haneul stood barefoot on a ridge overlooking Joseon as it had once been—before the towers, before the neon.
Just rooftops glinting gold in the early morning haze. Lanterns swinging in a forgotten breeze.
Mountains bowed in the distance, still carrying the gods in their spines.
His breath fogged the air.
What is this?
His voice didn’t echo. It simply… was.
