Immortal Heart |Hyunin

Stranger with pretty eyes

I.N. sat in the small dining room of the hospital, surrounded by patients who looked like reflections of himself—pale, tired, and worn down by the relentless grind of illness. The atmosphere was always heavy here, the weight of unspoken fears hanging in the air like a dense fog. But today, I.N. wasn't thinking about that. He was giggling softly, his phone in hand, watching a video that Felix had just sent him.

In the video, Felix and Han were attempting some ridiculous challenge, balancing books on their bald heads and making faces at the camera. Han's pile of books toppled over almost immediately, and Felix burst into loud, dramatic laughter, falling off the chair. I.N. chuckled, grateful for their antics, the little pieces of joy they sent him in the midst of everything else.

His laughter, though quiet, felt out of place in the solemn room. A few other patients glanced over at him, their expressions blank, but I.N. didn't care. He didn't want to let the sadness of this place consume him.

Suddenly, an apple landed gently on the table in front of him, its skin a deep, polished red. I.N. looked up, startled, to see a man standing beside him. He was dressed in a medical uniform, but something about him was different—offbeat. His long, dark hair hung loose, framing his sharp features in a way that felt too wild for a hospital setting. And though most of his face was hidden behind a surgical mask, his eyes—those eyes—stood out.

They were striking, a deep, liquid brown that seemed to gleam with a sharpness that cut through the gloom of the room. I.N. blinked, momentarily lost in those eyes as they watched him closely.

"Eat," the man said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of disinterest as he gestured to the apple. "You'll need the energy."

I.N. picked up the apple, giving the man a puzzled look. "Uh, thanks," he said, a bit uncertain. "But... do I know you?"

The man sat down in the chair across from him, his movements graceful but deliberate, as though he was constantly in control. His long hair fell over his shoulders as he settled in, completely ignoring the usual professionalism that came with being a hospital worker. I.N. found it odd, but there was something magnetic about the stranger's presence.

"So," the man said, his tone almost casual, "what stage are you at?"

I.N. shifted in his seat, taking a bite of the apple to fill the sudden awkwardness. "Stage four," he replied between chews, his voice light, as if the words didn't carry the weight of impending death. "Not much farther to go now."

The man tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as if assessing something deeper. "And yet you're laughing," he observed, his voice flat, but with a hint of curiosity. "How can you smile when you're this close to the end?"

I.N. paused, lowering the apple. It wasn't the first time someone had asked him that, but something about the man's tone made the question feel different. More pointed. More... personal.

"Why shouldn't I?" I.N. responded with a shrug, forcing a smile as he met the man's gaze. "I mean, sure, I'm dying, but I'm still here, right? I'm still alive. There's still a lot to laugh about." He gestured to his phone. "My friends... they keep me going. As long as I can live for another day, I'll take it."

The man's eyes darkened slightly, and for a moment, his expression—what little of it I.N. could see—seemed to harden. "Fool," he muttered under his breath, the word slipping out like an insult.

I.N. frowned, taken aback. "What?"

"You heard me," the man said, his eyes locking onto I.N.'s with a sudden intensity. "You're a fool. A naive child who's clinging to something that's already slipping through your fingers." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unrelenting. "Do you even understand the reality of your situation?"

The words stung, sharper than I.N. expected, but he kept his composure, sitting up straighter. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know what's happening to me. I know how bad it is. But why should I spend the time I have left being miserable? What good would that do?"

The man didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if considering I.N.'s words carefully. His eyes never left I.N., though, as if he were trying to see something deeper, something I.N. wasn't showing.

"You're strange," the man finally said, his voice softer now, though still tinged with that sharp edge. "Most people in your position are either begging for more time or drowning in despair. But you're here, laughing about videos and pretending like it doesn't bother you."

"I'm not pretending," I.N. said, his tone more serious now. "It's not that it doesn't bother me. I just—" He paused, searching for the right words. "I just want to make the most of what I have. That's all."

The man rolled his eyes, standing up abruptly, his long hair swaying as he moved. "You really are a fool," he repeated, but this time, his voice lacked the venom it had carried before. It was more of a resigned statement, as if he had come to accept I.N.'s outlook, even if he didn't understand it.

I.N. watched as the man turned to leave, his gaze following the sharp line of his back, the way he carried himself with an almost unnatural grace. He couldn't help but feel intrigued by him—this strange man who seemed so disconnected from everything, yet somehow bothered enough to stop and talk to him.

Before he could say anything else, the man stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "Don't waste the apple," he said flatly, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "You'll need your strength."

And with that, he walked away, disappearing down the hall without another word.

I.N. sat there for a moment, staring at the half-eaten apple in his hand, feeling the weight of the encounter linger in the air. The man's words echoed in his mind, unsettling him in a way he hadn't expected.

He took another bite of the apple, savoring its sweetness, but something about the encounter made him feel... different. His thoughts drifted to the man's eyes—the way they had watched him so closely, as if searching for something. There was something about him that I.N. couldn't shake, a strange pull that made him wonder who the man really was.

As I.N. stood to leave the dining room, the lights flickering slightly overhead, he couldn't help but feel that something had shifted. He didn't know what it was yet, but a strange sensation settled in his chest, like a thread connecting him to the man, however briefly.

The apple tasted sweeter as he finished it, though the man's words still left a bitter aftertaste.