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Moon hung low over the palace rooftops, its pale glow filtering through the lattice windows and pooling in delicate shapes across the quiet hallway floor. A breeze passed softly through the open corridor, stirring the paper lanterns that lined the walls. It was the kind of night that held its breath—quiet, suspended, and watching.
Na-ra stood beneath that silver light, her eyes rimmed with tears and wine, her gaze locked onto his.
"But... what if I already lost it?" Her voice was barely louder than the wind, but it landed with the weight of something unspoken for years.
Seo Yul felt the words settle into the space between them, into the space within him—the one he never let anyone see. Her eyes didn't waver, even as they shimmered, even as the cold threatened to steal the feeling from their fingertips.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
How was he supposed to answer that, when he couldn't even answer himself?
He'd always found comfort in Na-ra, the kind that sneaks up on you when you weren't looking for it. She never demanded his secrets, but she made him feel seen anyway. He trusted her in ways he never understood. And it terrified him.
Because Jang Na-ra deserved the world.
And he—Seo Yul—was too afraid he might be the one to break her if she came too close.
Every time she smiled through sadness, every time she looked at him like he mattered, it made something in his chest twist—because he didn’t want to be the reason that light ever dimmed.
So he pushed her away. Out of protection. Out of fear. Out of cowardice.
But looking at her now—tired, vulnerable, still here—he found himself wondering if he'd already done the very thing he tried so hard to avoid.
Had he broken her without ever meaning to?
Her words lingered like smoke.What if I already lost it?
And in that moment, under the moon and between two breaths, he realized something that chilled him more than anything:Maybe she had.
And maybe it was his fault.
"Na-ra, " Seo Yul's voice finally broke the silence, soft but urgent, like a hand reaching into the dark.
He stepped closer, lifting his hand to brush the tears from her cheeks. But just before his fingers reached her, she abruptly dropped to the ground with a sharp gasp.
"Ah—!"
Na-ra's body folded in on itself, her arms clutching her head as if trying to hold it together. Her knees hit the cold floor with a dull thud, and a low, strangled sound escaped her throat—a mix between a sob and a cry of pain.
