Page 340 of Scarbound

There’s one more thing I need to tell you.

This is harder.

For years, one of my greatest fears has been becoming like Gong. Because we were identical twins, I know his illness means my own risk is higher. For years, every depressive episode, every nightmare, every moment when reality felt strange made me wonder whether it was beginning.

I was terrified that one day I would look at you and become someone capable of hurting you. That fear was one of the reasons I kept pushing people away.

I don’t know what my mental health will look like ten years from now. Neither of us can know that.

What I can promise is that I won’t hide from it. I’ll continue therapy. I’ll ask for help. I’ll be honest when I’m struggling. I won’t make you responsible for keeping me alive or making me well.

And if your feelings have changed while I’ve been gone, tell me.

It will hurt. But I’ll survive it. See? I’m finally learning.

But if they haven’t changed…

Come to Germany.

There’s one more thing I haven’t written yet. Perhaps because I’ve been saving it for last.

Saranghae, Duri.

There. I finally said it first.

I hope I’ll have enough courage to say it again when you’re standing in front of me.

Until then,

Jal jinae.

Noeul

P.S. This painting is yours.

And if you look carefully, somewhere inside it, you’ll find home.

Two days had passed since Noeul arrived in Rothenburg, a small town steeped in medieval charm. Well-preserved stone walls surrounded it, and colorful timber-framed houses lined its cobblestone streets. On his first day, Noeul wandered through the famous Christmas shops and quiet gardens. On the second, he explored the historic central square and clock tower.

Now it was seven in the evening, and he had just returned to his hotel room, a beautiful vintage space that felt suspended in time. A small box containing four Schneeballen and a cup of hot cappuccino waited untouched while he finished dressing after a long shower.

A knock at the door, soft and hesitant, stopped him mid-movement.

Noeul froze.

Could it really be him?

With trembling hands, he walked toward the door.

He opened it slowly. And there he was. Duri. Not a dream. Not a memory. Real.

Noeul felt his legs weaken. He had sworn to himself that he would stay composed. That he wouldn’t cry or embarrass himself the moment he saw him. Every promise disappeared.

Duri stood in the hallway just as shaken. His hair was a little longer, his face more mature, his shoulders broader beneath his winter coat, but his eyes, those deep, familiar green eyes, still carried the same warmth Noeul had dreamed of so many times.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The hallway was unbearably quiet, filled only with Noeul’s uneven breathing.

“Noeul hyung,” Duri said softly, his voice rough and almost breaking.