Chapter 47: Just

The city was still shining.

Countless lights twinkled across the darkened streets.

Streetlights, car headlights, neon signs.

The distant skyscrapers were dotted with flickering lights in every window.

The fireworks had ended, but a faint haze and lingering traces remained where they had burst.

The nightscape before me was beautiful.

Yet, for some reason, it felt unbearably distant.

I stared at the scenery without saying a word.

Then, Park Nayul spoke.

“You need to learn to be a little more honest.”

My fingertips stiffened for a moment.

“Why does everyone say that to me when they see me?”

The question I threw out might have sounded like a joke.

But inside me, it echoed hollowly.

“People I’ve just met, people I’ve only seen a few times, people I’ve known for a long time.”

Why does everyone say the same thing to me?

Those words piled up one by one, pulling me deeper into an abyss.

Park Nayul quietly gazed down at the nightscape.

Then, in a lower voice, added,

“Because you look that fragile.”

The words struck me oddly deep.

“…Fragile?”

“Sometimes, you seem to fade away.”

Park Nayul’s eyes turned toward me.

“Like a candle in the wind, growing faint.”

At that moment, my chest tightened.

A sinking feeling from somewhere deep inside.

Anxiety seeped in like a rising tide.

Drowning in it, slowly sinking.

My breath grew shallow.

The sensation thickened, and the anxiety slowly suffocated me.

And then—

Inside the bus.

The bus kept moving without stopping.

I sat by the window, staring outside.

Streetlights on the road passed by one after another.

Reflected on the window, my face blurred under the streaking lights.

At first, familiar streets passed by.

The usual signs, the glow of familiar shops, the crosswalk I crossed every day.

But as time passed, the scenery changed.

The familiar things disappeared one by one, replaced by the unfamiliar.

The road curved, the buildings grew shorter.

Before I knew it, an unknown road stretched outside the window.

I was definitely sitting inside the bus.

If the bus moved, I should be moving with it.

Yet, it felt like I wasn’t moving at all.

As if the bus was leaving me behind as it drove forward.

My body stayed still, but the scenery drifted away.

A feeling of being pushed toward an unknown place.

I was being carried somewhere by the bus.

But it felt like I wouldn’t actually arrive anywhere.

The anxiety grew deeper.

If this continued, I’d be swept away to a place where no one could find me.

Where I was would grow farther away, until I was left alone in a place no one knew.

My fingertips turned cold.

I closed my eyes.

It felt like I might disappear just like this.

With my eyes closed, something appeared vividly instead.

A monochrome world.

When I opened my eyes, the world was black and white.

A landscape drained of all color.

A cold breeze brushed against my skin.

Before me lay a field of thick white flowers.

Above them stood two people wearing black ribbons.

They were smiling.

Familiar faces.

Mom, Dad.

Their laughter was frozen, like a still image, embedded in that place.

Trapped inside a small rectangular frame.

A crowd murmured.

In that space of black and white, inside the funeral hall, I crouched.

My fingertips trembled.

I didn’t want to move.

No—I couldn’t move.

It felt like I was the only one trapped there.

As if I had been left alone in a place where no one could find me.

At that moment—

“…If you keep pressing it down, one day it’ll explode.”

A voice pulling me back to reality.

I drew in a breath.

Forcing a casual tone, I joked,

“My outfit?”

I laughed, but my fingertips trembled faintly.

The anxiety still rippled quietly inside me.

Park Nayul watched my reaction silently before continuing softly,

“That too, included.”

I quietly stared at the nightscape.

People moving away, fireworks that have already ended.

No matter how brightly they burst, they eventually disappear.

“They’re no different from bombs. So, should we keep our distance?”

“You’re already thinking about pulling away?”

I took a short breath.

“Because someone might get hurt.”

“There might be someone who wants to get hurt together, you know.”

Her words struck me strangely in the chest.

I slowly shook my head.

“I don’t want that.”

Park Nayul looked at me without saying anything, even after my answer.

For a moment—just a brief moment.

Her lips twisted subtly before returning to her usual playful smile.

The lingering traces of the distant fireworks still faintly hung in the air.

Fireworks are beautiful.

But people only watch them from afar, never getting too close.

Because it’s dangerous to go near them.

They paint the night sky with intense light and color, but in the end, they burn out and vanish.

Suddenly, I felt like those fireworks overlapped with me.

This world is too beautiful.

Magic exists, but it doesn’t dominate.

It merely adorns the world, shining without ever stepping forward.

That’s why I was afraid of getting hurt.

Afraid of being swept up in the flames and getting burned.

So I kept stepping back.

Park Nayul suddenly asked,

“By the way, which one am I?”

“Huh?”

“Someone you haven’t known for long?”

I looked at her.

After staying silent for a while, I spoke calmly.

“You’re someone I’ve known for a while, sunbae.”

“Only six months?”

She laughed playfully in response.

“It’s already been six months.”

I quietly repeated.

“Yeah. Six months is a long time.”

Park Nayul nodded and continued,

“But we’ll see each other even longer, right?”

“About a year and a half left?”

I answered as if calculating.

She winked and smiled.

“Even longer. Graduating doesn’t mean it’s the end, you know.”

I silently looked at her for a moment, then slowly nodded.

“I guess so. Yeah.”

Park Nayul chuckled and gazed at the night view.

Where the fireworks had ended, only faint smoke remained.

Everyone had scattered, and with each gust of wind, the lingering traces of the fireworks in the air slowly faded away.

Like this, even this moment would eventually be forgotten.

Our conversation, this very air between us.

There were too many things in this world that disappeared without a trace.

She turned her head and looked behind me.

Then, with a meaningful smile, she said,

“But when I’m with Jian, she burns brighter than anyone else.”

Following her gaze, I turned my head.

There stood Lee Jian.

For a moment, I was at a loss for words.

The wind blew.

Even the smoke from the distant fireworks seemed to dissolve into the wind, disappearing.

I walked toward her.

My body moved on its own.

Step by step—

Staggering, slowly, I walked toward her.

The fading noise of the city, the remnants of the fireworks, the faint smell of gunpowder lingering in the air.

The afterglow of those flames felt familiar yet unsettling.

I hated that scent.

The smoke left behind by burning gunpowder, the traces of something that burned fiercely only to vanish in the end.

When that scent lingered faintly in the air, it felt like something had already ended.

The fireworks were dazzling, but all that remained was the ashen smell.

That trace floated in the air.

I wanted to erase that uneasy afterglow.

So I hugged her.

Slowly, carefully.

The moment her body touched mine, everything fell silent.

Warmth spread.

Amid the air still thick with the remnants of fireworks, a completely different scent emerged.

Warm and soft.

The gentle fragrance of fabric dried softly under the sun, the freshness of grass wet with morning dew.

Sweet but not overwhelming, a delicate floral note with the subtle warmth of vanilla.

Her scent was washing away my unease.

I pulled her closer.

Then, her hair brushed against my cheek, swaying slightly.

A soft fragrance drifted from between her strands.

Light as a blade of grass caught in the wind, yet lingering quietly as it seeped in.

When I closed my eyes, it became even clearer.

Wherever her scent spread, the remnants of the fireworks grew fainter.

Instead of the unsettling smell of gunpowder, a quiet warmth remained.

I took a quiet breath in.

Her scent seeped deep into my chest.

Her waist, touched by my fingertips, was slender but carried a definite warmth.

A delicate yet firm sensation.

Her presence in my arms felt even more vivid.

Slowly, I moved my fingers.

With each motion, the faint brush of her clothing against my skin.

The thin, soft fabric touched me, offering a quiet comfort.

Behind the gentle caress of the fabric, the faint rhythm of her heartbeat reached me.

The subtle movements under my fingertips made this moment even clearer.

And then, her hands wrapped around my back.

Slowly, carefully.

Her fingertips embraced me.

At that moment, I realized—

I was holding her, but at the same time, I was being held.

The warm pressure from her touch, the soft breaths.

It felt like finding my center after teetering on the edge.

I closed my eyes.

The slight tremble in her breathing, the cautious, almost nervous touch.

Yet despite that, she didn’t let go.

Her hands trailed quietly down my back.

The cool nape of my neck began to feel warm.

She was holding me.

I whispered softly,

“……Hold me.”

Then, she leaned in a little closer.

“Okay.”

Her breath brushed past my ear.

Her scent grew slightly stronger.

I took another quiet breath in.

Her fragrance, her warmth, her touch—they seeped even deeper into me.

“Hold me. Keep holding me.”

So I won’t disappear.

So I won’t drift away again.

“I will.”

Her fingertips tightened around me, as if quietly comforting.

The unease completely settled.

My once-empty hands were now warm.

The wind blew, but it no longer felt cold.

Even in the darkness, her warmth shone brightly.

I closed my eyes and leaned into her warmth.

The distant echoes of fireworks still lingered faintly,

But nothing else mattered now.

Only this moment.

Only this warmth.

I just wished it wouldn’t fade away.