IH Ch 22

Chapter 22

Earlier it had been a sense of embarrassment, then confusion, and now—

With an expression utterly chilled and cold, Hwang Jae-i muttered,

“……That guy.”

The floor wasn’t particularly dirty. He figured he could probably eat something that had fallen on the ground too. That kid had just done the same. And yet, for some reason, it left a bad taste in his mouth. Why was that?

It was the way Dohwa had acted, as if he really believed Jae-i would snatch the leftovers he had eaten. That was what had rubbed him the wrong way. Hwang Jae-i suddenly stood up and knocked into the table. The box placed atop it tilted over and spilled its contents. Letters and notes scattered in a fluttering cascade.

“……”

Because he hadn’t seen it coming at all, Jae-i flinched. But Dohwa moved quickly. As if he hadn’t just been slowly inching away moments ago, he rushed over to Hwang Jae-i’s side, righted the fallen box, and began picking up the scattered letters and postcards. Some had slipped beneath the sofa, but he lay flat on his stomach to retrieve them and managed to gather every last one. Once the box was once again filled and stacked neatly, he placed it back on the table.

Only then, seemingly relieved, Dohwa let out a small sigh and looked up at Hwang Jae-i, who was still standing there motionless. After exchanging a brief glance, Dohwa parted his lips and cautiously spoke.

“If you read the letters…”

It might do you some good.

While sorting through them, he hadn’t meant to read anything, but the words on the pages had caught his eye regardless. Most expressed support and affection for Hwang Jae-i. Thanking him for protecting South Korea, wishing for his health and long-lasting activity. Some even included cute little drawings. One had depicted him as a prince wearing a crown. Dohwa had thought someone who neglected such gifts probably wouldn’t bother to read through them, but for some reason, it felt like they should be kept together. That was likely why Hwang Suhyeon had purposefully placed the box on the table.

Just read one. They’re from people who like you.

Swallowing down the rest of what he wanted to say, Dohwa turned his gaze toward the newly organized box. From there, he spotted a colorful postcard with a drawing sticking out. He pulled it out slightly and placed it on top, then crouched down and backed away. Once he’d put enough distance between them, he took off in a dash—toward the guest room, not the storage room.

As soon as Dohwa vanished from sight, Jae-i closed his eyes. He staggered slightly before collapsing onto the sofa. With his head bowed low, he raised both hands and ruffled his hair roughly.

“Ah, seriously…”

The moment the letters spilled out of the box, Jae-i had been hit by a brutal wave of self-awareness, realizing just how petty his actions had been. He had tried not to show it in front of Dohwa and forced himself to keep a straight face. Now that he was alone, all he could do was wallow in regret, like a teenager groaning into a pillow after an embarrassing moment.

Why does it keep turning out like this? Whenever he was around Dohwa, he kept doing things that weren’t like him. Seriously, why had he demanded someone else’s food? So what if he’d picked it up from the floor? Worse yet, why had he stood up so suddenly and knocked over the box?

Lying back halfway on the sofa, he covered his face with one hand.

“……”

He already felt pathetic enough—but how must he have looked to someone else?

If, by any chance, this ever got out to others, he’d be a laughingstock for life. Especially if that bastard Kim Wi found out—it was unthinkable. No matter how many times he replayed it, it was ridiculous beyond words. Muttering curses under his breath, Jae-i roughly rubbed his face.

Even though Dohwa acted like he was trying to stay out of trouble, there was something subtly annoying about the way he did things. Like the room situation. Like pulling out the cake just because his aunt said he could.

No, but seriously—why was he cleaning out the storage room in the first place?

“Unnecessarily……”

Even Ahn Yuna and the staff responsible for the guild’s mail had suggested that he at least read the letters, even if he ignored the gifts. But Jae-i hadn’t listened. What was the point of fans or whatever? All that mattered was clearing gates. What people really wanted was the power of an S-rank. As long as he did his job, that was enough. Expecting him to do fan service or play the clown was too much.

Jae-i’s expression grew increasingly grim. Suddenly, he stood and walked over to the table, crouching down in front of it. This is all pointless, he thought. Let’s just toss it. He reached for the box—but then stopped. A burst of color on top caught his eye. A crown drawn in a clumsy hand stabbed at his vision.

“……”

Still crouched, he stared at the picture. His gaze slowly moved sideways. His eyes followed the words, each one carefully written in rounded strokes.

After the first gate appeared, South Korea had centered its operations around Seoul. It was standard practice for any country to protect its capital first and build defensive lines there. In the early days, however, in an attempt to quell public backlash, safety measures were also implemented in the provinces, and some guilds were encouraged to remain outside the capital area. Despite these legislative efforts, everything eventually reverted to capital-centric policies.

People worked relentlessly just to be able to live within the metropolitan area. But for ordinary folks, sustaining life in Seoul was nearly impossible. More often than not, they simply racked up debt until they had no choice but to return to the provinces.

If someone in the family fell ill, it became even harder to endure. In hopeless cases, some even abandoned or neglected patients on purpose. Ethically, it was a choice open to criticism, but the condemnation wasn’t particularly fierce. It was a recurring issue, year after year. This was the world everyone now lived in.

The building with a hospital sign was so old and worn down it seemed eerie once night fell. The interior was equally outdated and deteriorated. In the lobby, prominently displayed, hung a sign reading: “Thank you for your support, Mr. and Ms. So-and-so.” The guild that provided the most donations here was the Jae-i Guild. Wearing a hoodie and sunglasses to further conceal himself, Hwang Jae-i stood in front of the sign, glanced at it half-heartedly, then moved along.

Just then, a nurse hurried by, clearly exhausted. She passed by him without seeming to notice, rushing to the front desk where she made a call and reported that a certain patient’s condition had worsened. Listening idly, Jae-i headed for the stairs.

He moved slowly, each step echoing, and emerged onto the fourth floor. Unlike the ground level, this floor was truly dark. Still, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, he kept walking—until he came to a stop in front of Room 402.

“……”

After confirming the room number, he quietly opened the door and stepped inside.

Out of four beds, only one was occupied. The body lying there was so small it didn’t even take up half the bed. Approaching the bed nearest the window with his hands shoved in his pockets, moonlight spilled over him.

It cast a pale glow over the frail, child-sized figure. The IV wasn’t enough; tubes were also inserted into the nose and mouth. Breathing must have been difficult, yet the child exhaled rhythmically, as if used to it. Mixed with the sound of each breath was a soft, rattling phlegm-filled wheeze.

As Jae-i quietly gazed at the child, his eyes shifted. He had thought the child was alone—but that wasn’t the case. Someone lay curled up under a thin blanket on the floor. Likely the guardian. Even while grabbing a brief nap, the person hadn’t removed their worn-out sneakers, ready to spring up at any moment.

“……”

Once again, Jae-i looked down at the sleeping child. As he stared silently, the image of the postcard he’d seen earlier flashed in his mind.

“Hello. Hunter Hwang Jae-i. My name is Lee Minjeong. I’m five years old. I want to meet you. Please, please, please meet me when I grow up. I support you. I like you.”

Just before the word “like,” the word “love” had been written, but it was immediately covered with stickers and drawings. The prince with sparkling star-like eyes had been drawn quite decently. When he flipped the postcard over after admiring the drawing, he’d seen the address: a children’s hospital.

“……”

His face still stiff, Jae-i released the concealment around him and reached out toward the small hand resting on the bed. The moment his finger lightly touched the soft skin, the sleeping child opened their eyes as if by magic. The dark eyes that stared up at him made it seem as if they had never been asleep.

No sooner had he pulled his hand back than the child’s eyes gently curved. Their lips began to move. Worried the noise might wake the guardian, Jae-i hurriedly bent down and brought a finger to his lips in a silent “shh.” But the child kept moving their lips. Figuring they had something to say, Jae-i knelt down until his face was close.

With a faint wheeze, a whisper so soft it could barely be heard reached his ears. Jae-i turned his head toward the child. The child’s smiling eyes sparkled. Seeing the tears gathering in the corners of those eyes, Jae-i hesitated, then dropped to one knee completely. Awkwardly, he placed his large hand over the child’s tiny one and spoke.

“……This is a hospital.”

Not some kind of heaven.

“You’re still alive.”