He wore an expression like he’d been run through by a sharp harpoon.
Winter’s eyes shook like a ship going down.
He lunged to grab Timothy by the collar, and Jioh hurried to stop him.
“What’s with you? Don’t rattle the paper-licensed driver! He’s a ticking time bomb as it is—handle him like a baby deer.”
But Jin Gyeoul looked half out of his mind. He ignored the irritated scolding and stared at Jioh as if bewitched.
“…What is this?”
Jioh hesitated and reflexively relaxed the hand gripping his shoulder.
But… that hand gripped him tight again.
“Are you hurt? What’s really wrong?”
The unhinged Jin Gyeoul thought:
It’s impossible.
She didn’t die. Even now, she’s probably somewhere in the Holy Realm, holding out alone through lonely hours, believing he’ll come for her.
My lover did not die.
My young Jio did not die.
There’s no way that kid would have abandoned me again. No way. She mustn’t.
Therefore, the woman before his eyes is a fake. She wears the same face as his Jio, uses the same name, inflicts the same pain—but she must be a fake.
“…Up ahead is a Black Hole.”
Forcing down a depth so thick it was almost viscous, Jin Gyeoul’s eyes bored into Jioh. He refused, with…