Chapter 3
With a thud, Namhae finally dropped to his knees. Thanks to that, I no longer had to crane my neck painfully to look up at him—I could face him comfortably.
Just how much had he grown in four years? Even though I was sitting and he was sprawled on the ground, our eye levels weren’t all that different.
Kneeling outside the car, Namhae looked up at me with teary eyes. His now much larger frame hovered awkwardly as he half-reached toward me, only to stop midway, his hand grasping at empty air.
“You’re Yeo Juhyeon, right? It is you. You—how are you exactly the same as back then…? Ha, you’re even still in your school uniform—wait, it’s summer, so why the winter uniform…? No, no, right, it was winter back then….”
He rambled to himself, repeatedly stretching his hand toward me and pulling it back, until he ultimately couldn’t bring himself to touch me, gripping the car instead.
While Namhae floundered under the weight of overflowing emotions, I—dry and hollow—felt nothing but a faint sense of confusion.
Why is he acting like this when he sees me?
Why to this extent…?
Why like this…?
Why?
I couldn’t even shape the question into words.
I had expected that if I acknowledged him, he wouldn’t turn away—but this reaction far exceeded anything I’d imagined. Not only did he come looking for me first, he was showing such intense emotion?
Even if the world had changed, four years should’ve been enough time to sort out one’s feelings… shouldn’t it?
As I merely blinked in silence, Namhae grew visibly restless. The sharp edge he’d shown when dealing with the guards earlier softened into something pitifully gentle. Ah… like this, he looked similar to the face I remembered.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? Is this a dream? Is it? Or am I hallucinating? Is that why you’re still the same as back then? Ha… you really made this illusion detailed enough to make me not want to wake up. …Hey, Yeo Juhyeon. You really… just say something….”
His voice was almost pleading. It sounded like he might start crying at any moment, so I obediently opened my mouth, giving him what he wanted.
“Hello.”
Namhae’s face twisted as if he were about to cry.
Ah… was that not it?
“You—seriously… that’s the best you can come up with…?”
Now he looked outright hurt.
I thought about what he might want me to say. We had once been in a relationship, and even before that, we’d been friends for a long time—we knew each other well.
But now, after a four-year gap, we were practically strangers meeting again. And on top of that, I had grown unfamiliar with interacting with people at all. This wasn’t an easy problem.
To begin with, was there even a right answer to what you should say to your ex-boyfriend—who you’d been separated from by a world-ending event—when he reappeared older than you?
Still, after giving it some thought, I cautiously spoke again.
“…How have you been?”
I tried using polite speech.
A drop—
At last, a tear fell from Namhae’s eye.
Ah… wrong again.
I’d made him cry.
“You…! Damn it, don’t use formal speech—it makes you feel distant…! Are we strangers? Are we? Ha… you’re still in your school uniform, and I’m the only one who’s gotten older… are you doing this on purpose?”
Namhae shot back, sounding wronged. His build and face had matured far beyond before, yet his attitude remained exactly as it had at nineteen.
That was so strange that I found myself staring at him. Unfortunately, that only made it seem like I was ignoring him, and Namhae flared up again—only to calm down on his own moments later. He really lived a busy emotional life.
His hands, unable to touch me, clenched and unclenched into fists, while his gaze never left me, scanning me from head to toe.
Was it that he couldn’t find the words—or that he had too many and didn’t know where to begin? His lips parted, then pressed shut again. He swallowed dryly, grinding his teeth.
Even without speaking, he fidgeted endlessly. As I blankly watched, unfamiliar with this side of him, I belatedly registered the question he had finally chosen from among countless others.
“…Your mom and dad?”
For a moment, I didn’t understand. Then, after a brief pause, I realized he was referring to my parents—who had been swept up in the Gate with me.
Funny, isn’t it? My ex-boyfriend asked about them immediately, yet I, their daughter, needed time to even recall them.
What an unfilial daughter.
Still, even as I cursed myself internally, it felt more like habit than sincerity. Even at his careful question, I didn’t feel much of anything.
If a person’s heart were a lake, mine would be completely dried up—no matter how many stones you threw, there would be no ripples. Just the dull sound of rocks rolling across a barren surface.
“They passed away.”
Once again, I was calm as I spoke, yet Namhae’s eyes filled with tears instead.
“…I see.”
His hands, which had been hovering in the air or gripping the car uselessly, finally moved—carefully taking both of mine.
“You’ve been through a lot. The fact that you came back… thank you.”
His voice was choked, his teeth clenched, tears falling freely. It felt unfamiliar.
If my heart was a dried lake, then Namhae’s must be overflowing. Every stone thrown would create ripples, sometimes even waves like a stormy sea—until it spilled over as tears.
Now that someone cried in my place, even as I spoke of my parents’ death without emotion… maybe that was, in its own way, a kind of happiness.
I thought so, as if it were someone else’s story.
“So then… what about you? Are you okay? What happened? I mean, how have you not aged at all—and you’re still in your uniform…?”
They were questions I didn’t have answers to. Why hadn’t I aged? What had happened? Was I okay?
I didn’t know.
With nothing to say, I remained silent. Namhae’s face twisted again in frustration—then, as if only now realizing we weren’t alone, he turned his head.
“Oh—wait. Manager Choi, isn’t it?”
Manager Choi was still frozen in the seat beside me inside the car. Only now noticing him, Namhae spoke casually, as if it didn’t bother him at all that he’d just cried and caused a scene in front of someone he knew.
Then he suddenly pressed him.
“What’s wrong with her? She used to be so talkative—there’s no way she’d be this quiet and well-behaved. She looks exactly like she did in high school. Is she really okay?”
“That… is precisely why we came to the Association for an examination…”
His voice was hoarse, like someone had been strangling him. From the looks of it, being an S-rank Hunter wasn’t something trivial. Manager Choi, who was old enough to be his uncle, was this tense—while Namhae, accustomed to such reactions, didn’t seem to care at all.
Running a hand down his face, Namhae let out a sigh before rising to his feet. Still holding my hands, he gently pulled me up out of the car.
“Let’s go.”
“Go where?!”
Startled, Manager Choi shouted. Despite reacting as if Namhae were abducting me, Namhae only looked mildly annoyed, as if the question were obvious.
“You said we’re here for an examination. Then let’s do it.”
“R-right…” Manager Choi muttered as he followed us out—only to pause. “But… Hunter Namhae, you’re coming too?”
“Of course. If I don’t, who will?”
No, usually only the person being examined goes—why are you going…?
Though his face clearly showed disbelief, he didn’t dare protest again. Namhae ignored him entirely and turned away, and I simply followed along, letting myself be led.
Fearing he’d be left behind, Manager Choi hurried after us. Perhaps because he had come to guide us but was now being led instead, he looked rather awkward.
“So… what kind of relationship do you two have…?”
Glancing at our still-intertwined hands, Manager Choi asked cautiously. Unlike Namhae, he seemed mindful of me—likely bothered by the contradiction between my earlier claim of not knowing him and Namhae’s current behavior.
“We are…”
Oh. What should he say? Choose your words carefully. If it comes out that we used to date, it could damage your image—your career, even.
It wasn’t a shameful past—if anything, it had been precious. But people loved sensational gossip. They’d dig it up, twist it, tear it apart—just like they did with celebrities.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—before Namhae could finish, someone in a white coat came running out from the Association building.
“Manager Choi! Did you bring the returnee?! Why are you so late? The lab and investigation team are already—”
The researcher, bouncing with excitement like a dog invited for a walk, froze upon seeing Namhae.
The same scene repeated inside the building. People who rushed out excitedly at the mention of a “returnee” would suddenly halt upon seeing Namhae standing firmly beside me. Meanwhile, Namhae alone remained completely at ease, as if this were all routine.
I couldn’t tell if they treated him like a ticking time bomb because he was an S-rank—or simply because he was Namhae. Was that how dangerous S-ranks were perceived? Or had Namhae become that much of a menace while I wasn’t around?
The Namhae I knew wasn’t someone who would be treated like this. But considering he’d fought seventeen people alone right in front of the Association headquarters… maybe the latter wasn’t entirely wrong.
Eventually, someone mustered the courage to speak up when Namhae naturally followed us into the examination room. They carefully tried to stop him, saying only the subject and their guardian were allowed inside.
“Well, then there’s no problem. I’m her guardian.”
Namhae’s casual remark sank them instantly.
He’s neither family nor husband—so why you?
—That question clearly burned in their minds, but no one seemed brave enough to voice it twice.
