This time, it was Si-yul who felt his blood pressure rise. His expression turned serious, only because he was barely holding back the strange look threatening to creep onto his face.
“Sorry. Let’s just go back to how we were.”
“…Mm.”
Neither of them said much, but they both knew—this wouldn’t work. Hae-in’s embarrassment had been too obvious, and that, in turn, had left Si-yul feeling awkward as well.
The tips of his ears flushed red.
He had heard her call him oppa before, back when they had pretended to be siblings in front of Tae-il. But now, it felt completely different. Too embarrassingly sweet.
It was probably because the meaning behind her words had changed. It felt almost like she had called him hers.
“Then… should I just keep calling you Kang?”
“That would be better. Maybe it’s because I actually have a younger sister, but… hearing you call me that feels… strange…”
It was rare for Si-yul to trail off mid-sentence. Hae-in noticed that his face looked a little flushed too, though she assumed it was just the heat of the spring.
“…And also, when I think about it…”
“Hm?”
“You’re the only one who calls me that.”
“…”
“I like it.”
Maybe it was the hot spring. Somehow, every single word sounded heated, smoldering, pressing against her chest and making it hard to breathe. Hae-in ducked her face back into the water.
Then she remembered the tissues in her nose, panicked, and snatched them out, tossing them aside.
In the cramped hot spring, every movement was noticeable.
Whether he stirred the water with his legs, or swept his hands through it. Whether he was moving closer to her… she could feel all of it.
As he came closer, Hae-in grew restless.
“…You’re not dizzy?”
His shadow fell over her as he asked in a low voice.
She gave a small nod, but the truth was—she was dizzy. So dizzy she thought she might get another nosebleed.
When his hand finally settled on her shoulder, Hae-in realized something.
I get it now. I know what this feeling is. Maybe it’s just the steam, but… it feels like I’m breathing in someone else’s breath. That’s why it overwhelms me so much.
With a soft splash, his fingertips grazed her cheek.
Her skin tingled beneath his damp touch, and like she was bewitched, she closed her eyes. She knew he was about to lean in. That his lips would meet hers. And she longed for that moment.
But the first place he kissed was the tip of her nose.
His lips brushed lightly, retreated, then returned, making a faint sound. With quiet reverence, he began pressing soft kisses to her brow, her cheekbones, the curve of her cheeks.
Cradling her face, he exhaled deeply.
Unable to hold back any longer, Hae-in lifted her arms out of the water and looped them around his neck.
The water was warm, stifling. Their kiss burned hotter, fiercer. Breathless, heart clenching, her dizziness deepened.
It felt so good she wanted to lose herself completely.
“Haa… haa…”
Panting softly after the kiss, she looked up at him. Still close, still shadowing her, he whispered.
“…Can’t we have children? Absolutely not?”
Hae-in’s mind flashed back to earlier, when she had vomited in the parking lot. His first concern then had been this.
He hadn’t been able to let go of it all day, especially since her health hadn’t been great. His realistic, grounded worry left her feeling bittersweet.
With lips still warm from their kiss, she smiled sadly.
“No. Not now.”
“…Not now, you say.”
“Si-yul, let me tell you this much.”
“What?”
“I’m not… a yokai.”
That was all she could say. She couldn’t tell him she wasn’t human either, or that she borrowed the power of the reapers. But at least she wanted him to know that much.
“So what then? A seon-in? A divine being? A spirit beast? Someone cultivating the Dao?”
“…None of those.”
Not a yokai, not a seon-in. Then what? Even with all his studying, Si-yul found this riddle far too difficult.
“Not a yokai, not a seon-in. Not a fairy, not a witch.”
His dissatisfaction was understandable. Among the options he rattled off, “fairy” embarrassed Hae-in the most.
It seemed he was fascinated by the lore about fairies—how if they bore three children, they couldn’t return.
“Hey, Si-yul.”
“I need more hints.”
“I’d give you them if I could… But the more I love you, the harder it gets. I… I love you so much. I want to marry you. I want to have your children, but…”
Hae-in faltered. She had no more words she could give him. That was the hint.
At moments like this, she wished she could abandon her body, become nothing but a soul, and whisper all the truths into his ear.
Because this body was her shackle, the thing that allowed her to touch him—yet kept her from confessing.
If only I were a ghost.
“…Then we couldn’t touch.”
“Exactly.”
But if she could shed this body, she could at least speak freely. That thought alone was tempting.
Of course, that plan assumed Si-yul could even see ghosts.
She had considered countless possibilities, but all of them were hopeless.
She knew how to become a soul. A reaper had once hinted at it: when her body was completely “broken,” her soul would be forced out.
But then she might be devoured by evil spirits, or seized by another reaper and dragged to the underworld, never to return to being human again.
Even knowing it was meaningless, her desperation made her think about it.
She lifted her hands, cupped his cheeks, and pushed herself up on her knees. This time, she kissed him first.
“Si-yul, I may not be very wise… I might make the wrong choice. But no matter what, I’ll love you with all my strength.”
“…You’ve been confessing a lot lately.”
His gaze narrowed as he accepted her kiss, though his voice lacked brightness.
“Does this mean… the day you said you’d have to leave is coming soon?”
“…”
“Not much time left? Is that why?”
Silence was one of the few answers she could give.
Until the reaper returned, she had at most two months. Shorter rather than longer. Just enough to call this trip their last journey.
The season when she had first become a cat was coming again.
For her, spring was no longer a season of warm anticipation. Instead, she wished for winter to linger.
She needed this winter more than words could express.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
While Si-yul slept, Hae-in sat by the window, gazing up at the sky. Sleep wouldn’t come to her. In the end, she slipped out of bed and fetched the colored pencils and sketchbook she had packed.
Settling near the window, she began sketching the ryokan’s garden and the moon.
Drawing at night had become a habit. Back when she had lived with Tae-il, the only time she could draw was at night.
The pencils were worn down to stubs now, but she poured herself into capturing the beauty before her.
If I can’t preserve my memories, then I at least want to be greedy enough to preserve the picture.
She couldn’t draw her own face, but this much was possible.
Her body didn’t need sleep, and lately she had been overflowing with energy, making it all the more meaningless. Even in the dark, she could see everything clearly.
She became so absorbed that dawn came quickly.
By the time she finished, the drawing looked quite decent. As she heard Si-yul stirring awake, she set her pencils down.
“What are you doing over there…?”
“I drew something!”
Si-yul, clearly displeased with the empty spot beside him, patted the bed with a drowsy hand. Hae-in hurried back, flopping down at his side.
“You didn’t sleep?”
“I couldn’t. Want to see what I drew?”
“…Yeah.”
“What do you think?”
She handed him the A4 sketchbook. Every inch was filled with color.
The night sky in translucent shades of violet, the moon glowing with a mysterious blue light, even the pond she had once fallen into rendered with jewel-like brilliance.
Si-yul was genuinely awestruck, not realizing this was the work of a once-renowned artist.
“…You’re amazing at this.”
“Of course, better than you.”
“When I draw a dog, people think it’s a squirrel.”
“And when you draw a cat, they think it’s a snake.”
“Exactly.”
Repeating one of his own frequent jokes made Hae-in giggle. It felt oddly satisfying that the one thing he couldn’t do was the one thing she excelled at.
Feeling pleased, she propped her chin on her hand and sang out playfully.
“Maybe I should leave this here. Not bad for something I drew just to pass the time.”
“…At the ryokan? Isn’t it a waste, when you spent the whole night on it?”
“Eh, I just scribbled it with colored pencils. It’s nothing.”
“It’s too good for that. How about… letting me keep it instead?”
He shook the drawing lightly as he asked, his tone sincere.
That was a good idea. Later, if she ever saw it again, she would recognize her own work.
At first glance, maybe not. But if Si-yul held it up as proof that they had been together, she might be able to find traces of her own habits in the lines and colors.
If she had drawn it with that intention from the start, she probably wouldn’t have been able to finish. So she only nodded slightly.
Take good care of it. So maybe one day, I’ll recognize it.
She leaned in and pressed a soft good morning kiss to his forehead.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
“First, we’re going to Yufuin.”
Si-yul spoke around a mouthful of bread.
“What’s that? Doesn’t sound like food…”
“It’s a famous tourist spot—almost everyone who comes here visits it. An old village surrounded by mountains. According to the guidebook, it’s the number one resort destination for Japanese women. Sounds like your kind of place.”
“Ooh.”
“There’s a lake there that’s supposed to be spectacular. You could bring those pencils and sketch it.”
“I’m fine for now.”
He gestured at her sketching supplies, but Hae-in shook her head. She only drew when he was asleep, when she was alone and bored.
In the daytime, she preferred to spend her time with him, arm in arm, enjoying their date.
“After that, we’ll stop by a famous shrine. You know what a shrine is, right? Like a temple back home.”
“Of course I know. A shrine! I’ve seen them in manga!”
“And finally, in the evening, we’ll go shopping, see the Christmas tree, maybe buy something if you like. Then, before eight, we’ll head back here and spend the night soaking in the hot spring under the moonlight.”
“…All of that sounds good, but what about restaurants? We came all this way, we should eat something special.”
That was the true joy of travel, after all. But his perfect plan had somehow skipped food entirely. The omission felt like a glaring hole. Come to think of it, though he enjoyed good food, he was munching on plain bread even now.
“That’s unnecessary. Since you don’t eat anyway.”
“…Huh?”
“What’s the point of eating alone? I just snack on whatever. They’ll be selling plenty of treats around here anyway.”
What a waste, coming all this way just to do that!
Haein didn’t actually need food. Sometimes she ate just to taste it, but much like sleep, she didn’t truly need it.
But traveling was different. Summoning her courage, she spoke firmly.
“This time, I’ll eat. Since I won’t be turning back into a cat, I can eat all I want.”
“…Really?”
“Mm-hm. While we’re traveling, I’ll stay human the whole time.”
Normally, even when she ate, it was just a little. Though truthfully, if she wanted, she could eat more. Her stomach felt small, unused to handling much food, so she filled up quickly.
The main reason she practiced eating lightly, though, was to prepare for when she turned back into a cat. But since she’d stay human throughout this trip, she figured it would be fine to eat normally.
Siyul scratched his chin with a regretful expression.
“Damn. I didn’t order kaiseki because I thought you wouldn’t be able to eat. Guess I’ll have to book it for tomorrow.”
“Kaiseki…? That’s food, right?”
“It’s like a Japanese-style course meal. They set out a whole table full of traditional dishes.”
“I know that one! It’s something amazing!”
Her knowledge, as usual, came from manga. Still, Haein decided she’d have to “stretch” her stomach today just for the chance to eat it.
________✧⑅˖♡∘˚˳°↝^._.^_________
Before leaving the inn, Siyul slipped something around Haein’s neck. He smiled as he fastened the slightly heavy object.
“Don’t take this off.”
He wore the expression of someone bestowing a sacred charm. Hae-in, however, recoiled in dismay.
“…Th-this is something grandmas wear!”
“Oh? So you know about it. Not bad.”
Somehow, he had found a bright red phone strap and attached it to her phone, then hung it around her neck. It was one of those old-fashioned phone lanyards you hardly saw anymore.
“You thought I wouldn’t know?”
“Just wear it.”
“I could just keep it in my pocket!”
“You’d lose it for sure. Think about everything you’ve already done since we got here.”
“…Ugh.”
“And hey, this is better than putting a leash on you.”
A leash, this or that—what’s the difference!
He had clearly chosen the red strap on purpose. The same color as a pet leash, and now it hung around her neck. The whole thing left her feeling sulky and caged.
Puffing her cheeks, she headed toward the entrance—when her eyes caught on a snow-dusted flowering tree.
She tugged at Siyul’s collar and pointed eagerly.
“Kang! Kang, I like this one.”
“What is it?”
She had to say it quickly, like tossing words out before they got stuck. If she thought too much, she might not say it at all. And she probably wouldn’t get another chance—since,
he learns fast, and once he catches on, he doesn’t fall for the same thing twice.
Seeing his puzzled expression, she explained again.
“It’s a camellia tree.”
“The flowers haven’t even bloomed yet, but you can tell? Ah… I get it. This is the same tree in front of that house you always wait for me at, isn’t it?”
“Exactly!”
“The leaves are pretty distinctive. That’s how I remember.”
His memory was as sharp as ever.
Camellia trees didn’t lose their leaves, even in winter. And just as the season turned, they bloomed—sometimes even early enough to blossom under snow. They were hardy, flowers that refused to fall.
As Siyul touched one of the broad leaves, he mused,
“I thought you liked cherry blossoms.”
“I like this one more.”
“Hm. Unexpected.”
Most people thought the same as Siyul. But in truth, they were wrong. Hae-in couldn’t say more, but the fact that Siyul now knew she loved camellias filled her with warmth.
If he knows this, then he’s truly my precious person.
After all, her mother didn’t know. No one did. Only she herself had ever known.
She had never told anyone her favorite flower. She kept it locked inside, decided it in silence. By nature, she was reluctant to reveal her heart, and so she always answered carefully—never bluntly.
As an artist, she often painted flowers, so she got asked which flower she liked best. At those times, she always said “cherry blossoms.”
They weren’t her most favorite, but she did like them. And people nodded easily, satisfied with that answer.
If she had said “camellias,” though, they would’ve all asked why. Since most people didn’t care much for that flower.
My father loved them. He said they were elegant.
Haein brushed snow from the petals alongside Siyul and added lightly—just something she could say, something that might sound ordinary.
“Kang, do you know the camellia’s flower meaning?”
“No idea.”
“It means waiting. It also means yearning love. Long ago, they said the flower bloomed on the grave of a wife who died waiting for her husband to return.”
Because she painted flowers so often, Haein knew quite a bit about them. Not the scientific details so much, but the stories woven around them.
“And another meaning is: I love you more than anyone.”
She murmured the words softly as she stroked her favorite flower’s leaves again and again, hoping he would remember.
There’s something even more important I wish I could tell him… but as long as I’m bound to this body, it’s impossible.
