Mu-ryeong's Spirit-Chapter 49: The End of Despair (4)

The emotion in Mu-ryeong’s clear eyes was nothing but concern. His brows were drawn tight with tension, but the corners of his eyes softened, making his expression impossibly gentle. He had the kind of face that seemed incapable of saying anything cruel, and his voice carried nothing but genuine worry.

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

If Hwan-young had to put into words how baffled he was in that moment, he probably wouldn’t find the right words in his lifetime. The way Mu-ryeong’s gaze carefully examined him, as if his well-being truly mattered, was so overwhelmingly kind that it made him feel an inexplicable discomfort.

"Why do you say things like that?"

Then, Mu-ryeong took his hands in his own—warm, soft, deliberate. Hwan-young instinctively tried to pull away, but instead of letting go, Mu-ryeong tightened his grip, holding on with both hands.

Without a doubt, this was the first time someone had touched him so easily. The first time someone’s warmth had felt this searing. The first time someone’s hands had been so careful. No—had he ever even held someone’s hand before?

It felt like he might burn. If he held on even a second longer, he might end up with scars. The spiritual energy radiating from Mu-ryeong was fresh, clean, overwhelming—and even {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the sensation of his mind emptying from it felt unbearably unsettling.

"Let me stay at your place for a night."

Mu-ryeong accepted his request with that same untroubled face.

He hadn’t even explained the details, hadn’t even properly asked—he had literally shoved Mu-ryeong’s hands away—yet Mu-ryeong followed him without complaint. Even after a two-hour walk, all he had to say was how nice the house was, throwing around useless compliments. He didn’t ask a single thing about the actual request, just loitered around with a lazy grin.

He reminded Hwan-young of a bothersome puppy. Not a fully grown dog—just a small, young one, soft and clumsy, wagging its tail like a helpless thing.

Hwan-young had already noticed how small he was, but even his hands and feet were tiny. It was strange, seeing another guy wearing oversized clothes like that. It was unsettling enough that Hwan-young nearly had a heart attack when Mu-ryeong casually suggested sleeping without his pants on.

"Do you have an extra blanket?"

Of course, a house meant for one didn’t have spare bedding. Just two blankets—one for summer, one for winter. But giving Mu-ryeong the thinner one didn’t sit right with him. Puppies were sensitive to the cold, weren’t they?

"You’re small enough that..."

Maybe it’d be better to just share a bed. With his size, it wouldn’t even feel cramped. If he laid him down properly in a corner, it would be manageable for just one night.

That was as far as he got before a wave of shock hit him, like he’d been smacked in the back of the head.

He couldn’t believe what he was thinking. He was eighteen years old—what the hell was this?

"...I’ll lay out a blanket for you."

He had to be possessed. Either that, or Kim Mu-ryeong had cast some kind of spell on him. Otherwise, there was no way in hell he’d even consider sharing a bed with another guy. Hwan-young hated being touched—so how could he possibly tolerate lying next to someone?

"What time were you born?"

Mu-ryeong was full of curiosity and far too talkative. Even after getting into bed, he kept chattering.

"You were born during the day, huh."

Hwan-young found that oddly fitting.

He answered Mu-ryeong’s next question automatically.

"March 1st."

It wasn’t a deliberate lie. He just... didn’t want to forget Hwan-hee. And maybe, somewhere deep down, he had an instinctual fear that if he said February 29th, Mu-ryeong might figure something out.

Not long after, Mu-ryeong quietly slipped out of the room.

There wasn’t a single sound, but Hwan-young was too sharp not to notice.

So, was he actually going to do something about the request? That was the only reason Hwan-young didn’t stop him. Not that there was anything Mu-ryeong could accomplish in this place.

By the time Hwan-young woke up, Mu-ryeong had returned but seemed utterly exhausted, struggling to get out of bed.

And on the way to school, still half-asleep, Mu-ryeong suddenly muttered—

"I didn’t get hurt."

"What?"

"I touched you, but I didn’t get hurt."

The sensation of his fingers wrapped around Hwan-young’s wrist, the steady gaze as he spoke, the warmth of his skin against his own—

And that damn smile.

"Just saying. It doesn’t mean anything."

For someone who had acted so awkwardly before, he had suddenly become unbelievably familiar overnight.

And then—without a hint of hesitation—he ran off to his friend.

Seo Seung-joo, that was his name. He was always with Mu-ryeong. Hwan-young had often seen him carrying him around or throwing an arm over his shoulders.

And now, Seung-joo had a cast on his arm.

Because he had touched him.

"..."

"...Hey."

"..."

"You going to lunch?"

Hwan-young wasn’t sure if what he felt was irritation.

It was a scene he’d seen plenty of times before. But something about watching the two of them head to the cafeteria together made his stomach churn.

He didn’t like how Mu-ryeong was clinging to him.

And the moment he saw the cast on Seung-joo’s arm, something tightened in his chest.

"Wow. What an asshole."

Strangely enough, the insult itself didn’t bother him. What did bother him was the sight of Mu-ryeong’s retreating back, the way he so easily abandoned their conversation to rejoin his friend, how effortlessly he hung off of him, laughing like nothing else mattered. It was irrational, something even he didn’t understand, but he didn’t waste time trying to.

The real problem happened after school that day.

As always, Hwan-young remained in the empty classroom, sitting in silence with his eyes closed. The days were still short, and soon, the entire sky was swallowed in the colors of dusk. Twilight crept in through the windows, stretching the shadows long across the room.

"Brother."

He should have heard that voice. He should have felt the creeping cold, the presence slithering out of the darkness. There should have been arms winding around his neck, fingers tickling his shoulders, a soft whisper asking why he had been left behind.

But there was nothing.

Silence.

A stillness so deep it swallowed every sound, stretching on without a single disturbance. The air of the fading day remained undisturbed, unmoving, pressing in from all around him.

He told himself it was just a delay. That the sun hadn’t fully set yet, that he only needed to wait a little longer.

"Student, I’m locking up. You need to leave."

But when the security guard came to kick him out, Hwan-hee still hadn’t appeared.

The only family he had left, the brother who visited him every single day, had vanished overnight without a trace.

Had it been Kim Mu-ryeong’s doing?

Hwan-young spent the entire weekend agonizing over the thought. Had Mu-ryeong done something without telling him? Did he get involved behind his back?

By the time Monday came, he sat at his desk after class, waiting—but it wasn’t his brother who came to see him.

"I brought this for you."

Mu-ryeong didn’t say he had completed the request. He didn’t ask for payment. He didn’t even ask if anything unusual had happened. Instead, he simply handed Hwan-young a white envelope, his usual bright, thoughtless expression unchanged.

"It’s a talisman."

Even through the envelope, the energy radiating from it was unmistakable. That same fresh, clear presence that always sharpened his mind when Mu-ryeong was nearby. The moment it touched his hand, he felt lighter, like his exhaustion had been lifted.

But he already knew—this wasn’t what he had asked for.

"If you keep this with you, your shoulders won’t feel heavy."

Hwan-young thought back to someone from his childhood, someone who had once taught him about spirits. Ghosts react to spiritual energy—that had been the lesson. The reason ghosts clung to him was because of his own energy.

So if this talisman carried an even stronger energy than his own... then Hwan-hee might never return.

"My shoulders won’t feel heavy?"

But his request had never been that simple.

He didn’t know what else the talisman might do, but he knew one thing—it wouldn’t bring his brother peace. If this was just a way to keep Hwan-hee from clinging to him, then he didn’t need something like this. He could have handled that on his own.

"I don’t need it. Take it back."

He shouldn’t have been that angry. Even he didn’t fully understand why he was so upset.

Maybe it was because Hwan-hee was gone, and he was terrified. Maybe it was because Mu-ryeong had just handed him a piece of paper like it meant anything.

Maybe it was because he had foolishly believed that Mu-ryeong would somehow fix everything—only for that fragile hope to pop like a soap bubble.

"If I wanted something like this, I could have bought one myself."

He wasn’t disappointed in Mu-ryeong.

He was disappointed in himself—for relying on someone else. For blindly believing that something must have happened, that somehow things had already been resolved.

And he knew—he knew—he shouldn’t take it out on Mu-ryeong. That it wasn’t fair to throw away something he had clearly put effort into.

Maybe if Mu-ryeong had gotten angry, he would have felt less guilty.

"Even if you’re upset, you shouldn’t throw away something someone gave you. That’s just rude."

Maybe if he had yelled at him, insulted him, hit him—Hwan-young wouldn’t have felt so ashamed.

But instead, Mu-ryeong calmly pointed out his mistake, so reasonable it made Hwan-young want to laugh at himself.

That was why, after throwing the talisman away in anger—

The moment Mu-ryeong left, he dug it back out of the trash.

That was why he carefully smoothed out the crumpled paper, tucking it neatly into the drawer beside his bed.

Because even if he knew it would be better to apologize—

He didn’t know how to admit he had been wrong.