Chapter 161

“……”

This situation—left alone with the Boss in a white void—wasn’t to his liking. The Boss stared holes into him, the only remaining human, making it impossible to focus on the roil of feelings stirred up by Aiden.

“Jaeha.”

“……”

“Jaehaaaa.”

Especially when the tone—half whining child, half clingy friend—belonged to the Boss of this Gate.

“…Yes.”

His answer came flat. “Flat” was the most accurate word for how he felt.

“Strange. You humored me better when I was Sasha.”

“…That’s because I thought you were human then.”

“So, you discriminate—human versus inhuman?”

“……”

He didn’t answer, considering what to say to avoid ruffling him for the next five minutes. What if offending him meant never leaving the Gate?

“Jaeha. Jaeha, Jaeha.”

“…Yes.”

“Guess why I kept you for last?”

“…I don’t know. Why did you keep me for last?”

Instead of answering, the Boss shifted posture, then set a massive upturned palm to the floor, as if inviting him to climb on.

“……”

He understood—but had no desire to step onto the hand of something over five meters tall. It was unlikely that hand would stay on the floor, and he wasn’t sturdy enough to survive a fall.

“……”

But there was no point in digging his heels in here. He knew who’d lose that contest.

Forcing strength into trembling legs, he crept onto the palm. It was like climbing a rugged stone ridge—hard to keep balance.

Once he was on the palm proper—not the fingers—the hand lifted immediately. It felt like riding an elevator without safety rails. Standing seemed even worse, so he crouched low, bracing his hands on that palm. Gravity tugged at his gut with a nauseating pull. The floor dropped away in a blur that made him squeeze his eyes shut.

“……”

When the ascent slowed, he opened his eyes.

The Boss’s face loomed before him.

It felt statue-like, yet had no carved features. The darkness glimpsed between the deep cracks felt like eyes. When lightning flickered in there, it was like slick pupils catching the light—hair-raising.

“Jaehaaa.”

Come to think of it, how was it speaking with no mouth? The thrumming voice drilled into his ears. With nothing solid to lean on, he kept his body taut, hands planted. The Boss seemed to smirk—no visible grin, but the feeling of one.

“Your essence is pretty.”

“…Thank you?”

He’d been repeating that like a mantra, and Jaeha still didn’t understand it. He didn’t dare ask. Fortunately, the Boss spoke on.

“You know—stuff polished by lots of hardship, shining because it’s been ground down. Like sea glass rounded by waves. I like that.”

“…Am I… sea glass?”

“You’re green. Soju bottle, then? Hahaha.”

“……”

Was that a compliment or a taunt? The words suggested the latter, the tone the former. Peculiar.

“Outside, glass can shatter again—turn sharp. After all that cute rounding.”

“……”

“Outside is hard. Humans are always betrayed, tripped, abandoned.”

He hummed along as if singing, pale and cheerful.

“Some walk forward, some go back.”

The hand suddenly dropped, a swift plunge. Jaeha squeezed his eyes shut at the falling lurch, catching a finger to steady himself. A laugh rolled down from above; apparently it looked funny.

The hand put him down—

“So, little round one.”

—right between the two gate exits.

“Ugh…”

He staggered, then clambered off. It was nauseating; he hoped never to repeat it. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but the lack of safety made it terrifying.

“Where are you going?”

The voice came bright with interest. He forced himself upright, swallowing dizziness, and looked up. Even crouched, the Boss’s mass forced him to tilt his head until his neck ached.

“For the record, one option is you stay here with me, cozy-like.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Hahaha. Then I’ll just watch how you break.”

“……”

He turned without answering. He looked left, then right—then back up at the Boss. Truth was, he’d decided long ago. And the Boss knew it.

“No regrets?”

“…I might.”

“At times like this, you’re supposed to say you won’t.”

“Haha… I don’t have that kind of backbone.”

He smiled awkwardly and walked. Weakness and second-guessing made him glance back at the opposite gate, but his feet took him to the right gate.

“…Should I go now?”

“Mm. Off you go.”

“……”

He looked once more at the left gate.

Honestly, he was afraid.

If he went out and his parents were still dead, he’d regret it. If he went out and they were alive—wonderful—but also problematic. Who knew what the boss had changed out there?

“Jaeha.”

“……”

“Nervous?”

Of course the Boss saw it immediately. Jaeha nodded, knowing lies wouldn’t work here. The Boss asked:

“Want me to tell you something?”

“……”

“Do me a favor in return.”

His brow furrowed. Instinct recoiled. He shook his head.

“…No. I’m fine.”

He wouldn’t trade for “information” whose importance he couldn’t gauge, to salve an anxiety that would resolve in moments.

“Yeah? Then go on.”

“……”

“Eyes forward.”

Certainty and marching straight ahead weren’t his strengths. He’d look back, sometimes. But he’d learned how to move forward anyway.

“……”

He turned to the gate—and stepped in without fuss.

Light rippled and flooded his vision. He had to close his eyes against the sting.

And that was all.

Left alone in the white, the Boss giggled like a mischievous child, then waved once; the gates winked out.

“When did I ever promise they could take memories to the past, hmm~”

Humming, laughing at the humans to his heart’s content, he stood and stretched in a long yawn.

“Either way, well.”

A sly chuckle.

“Good choice, little round one.”

Outside was cold.

Considering he had entered the gate in early summer, it meant a long time had passed outside. He remembered from briefings: outside time could move far faster than inside. Not surprising.

“Haa…”

Pale breath fogged the air. Something cold pricked his skin. Snow—falling thick. It was dead winter.

People thronged—noisy, chaotic. Maybe because tension unraveled the moment he emerged, all sound blurred like underwater, muffled.

“—! —-!”

“-! Separate the injured— —!”

As soon as he stumbled out, the white gate behind him faded away. The vanishing made a strange noise; he staggered forward, away from it.

“One more survivor!”

“Gate has vanished!”

“December 25, 2:12:23 PM. Confirmed.”

Association staff, corralling the scene, had spotted him. With reports shouted, a few ran toward him. He ignored them.

He had to find someone.

Someone who might not exist anymore if the world had changed.

“Please identify yourself. Are you alright?”

“We’re going to assess your condition.”

They reached him. He didn’t answer—just scanned the crowd. Deciding he couldn’t speak, they lifted his arm and tried to examine him. He jerked free.

He had found him.

“Excuse me!”

“Where are you going?”

They called after him, grabbing—he ran. Ran and ran. He nearly slipped on the snowy pavement once, but didn’t fall.

A laugh bubbled up. Relief, joy, the need to show the love barreling out of him.

“Aiden-ssi!”

He shouted for the man who was turned and being tended. That slumped body went rigid, then turned—slowly, disbelieving. Jaeha understood—the world had not changed. He still knew him, still saw him, still loved him.

Whatever he yelled, Jaeha didn’t hear. Aiden tore free of those around him and ran at Jaeha. His face crumpled into something near tears, and Jaeha couldn’t even pace his breathing—he laughed, out loud.

And then—

Thud. Hard enough to sound, their bodies crashed together, clutching tight. Jaeha had run harder and longer; they tumbled, rolling into Aiden’s side. No groans—only shallow gasps, half-sobs.

“No way…”

Aiden panted, stunned.

“Aiden-ssi.”

I’m here.

Jaeha had never smiled so happily. The moment was sweet beyond words. There would be falls ahead, betrayals, abandonment; he knew that.

But in this perfect moment, he had to say it.

No bouquet, no ring, no cheesy lines, no blushing, shaking face. Clutching him hard enough to crush, he confessed:

“I love you.”

Snow was pouring down.

Their second winter.