Honbul: Flame of the Soul

“So what’s your condition?”

Yoon Taehee sat down in front of the sandcastle with a gentle smile.

“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you if I win.”

“That’s unfair. You’re supposed to tell me beforehand.”

Jaegyeom narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“If you win, I’ll give you half my assets.”

A sharp gleam flashed through Jaegyeom’s eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes. So who wants to go first?”

Yoon Taehee changed the subject with practiced ease.

“Do you want to start?”

“Sure.”

Jaegyeom eagerly planted both hands into the sandcastle. He spread his arms wide and scooped away nearly half of it in one go.

The sandcastle was practically ruined from the start.

“Your turn.”

Jaegyeom looked at Yoon Taehee with greed shining openly in his eyes.

“No, seriously... why would you take that much all at once...”

Yoon Taehee lowered his head, laughing helplessly.

“My choice. Hurry up and go.”

Jaegyeom urged him on with absolute confidence written across his face.

“Fine.”

Chuckling, Yoon Taehee carefully scooped away sand with both hands.

The goal of the game was simple: remove sand without knocking over the stick planted in the middle.

Turn after turn, the large sandcastle gradually shrank.

Soon it was Jaegyeom’s turn again.

At this point the remaining mound looked so unstable it wouldn’t have been surprising if it collapsed on its own. Jaegyeom scratched his forehead with grave seriousness.

“I’m going.”

It looked ready to collapse the instant he touched it, but Jaegyeom boldly reached out anyway. Being as careful as possible not to disturb the stick, he slowly scraped away the sand supporting it.

Fortunately, the stick stayed upright.

Now there was nowhere left to touch. The moment Yoon Taehee made a move, it was obviously going to fall.

Certain of victory, Jaegyeom threw both arms into the air.

“Wah!”

And then—

Thud.

At the exact same moment, the stick toppled limply sideways.

“...”

“...”

Jaegyeom stared at the fallen stick with wide eyes.

“What the hell?”

Yoon Taehee wrinkled his nose, laughing.

“Oh? I won.”

“Hey! You saw it! It was still standing!”

“Yeah, I saw. It was standing.”

“It didn’t fall because I touched it.”

Jaegyeom hurriedly tried to recover some dignity.

“I know. I didn’t expect your victory scream to finish it off.”

Yoon Taehee neatly cut off every possible argument.

“Hey, it stayed standing after I let go.”

Jaegyeom stubbornly refused to back down.

“So who touched it last?”

That ended it.

It was a devastatingly accurate point. Jaegyeom opened his mouth, then closed it again. Hearing it phrased that way, Yoon Taehee was clearly right.

There was no escape.

Neither of them was merciful when it came to competition.

“...”

In the end, Jaegyeom silently accepted defeat.

The sandcastle had collapsed, but what had really vanished was his chance at sudden wealth.

Competition was competition. You had to accept the result cleanly.

Jaegyeom was mature about these things.

Instead, he chose to insult Yoon Taehee outside the game.

“You’re seriously narrow-minded.”

“...”

“You kept shaving off tiny little bits while waiting for an opening.”

“...”

“You won’t even fight head-on. Cowardly and petty.”

“...”

“Even tiny Mesan has more guts than you.”

“...”

As the criticism piled up, Yoon Taehee slowly raised one eyebrow.

“It’s nice seeing you accept defeat so graciously.”

Jaegyeom glared at him fiercely.

“For your information, I don’t usually fight battles I can’t win.”

Yeah, right.

Jaegyeom’s ears flicked irritably.

“Enough. Tell me your condition.”

At that, Yoon Taehee’s expression turned thoughtful.

“Hm.”

He stroked his chin and looked out toward the sea.

As the silence dragged on, Jaegyeom gradually began to feel uneasy.

Only then did it occur to him that Yoon Taehee might ask for something strange.

After all, he was sly, narrow-minded, and a complete sodomite.

The longer Yoon Taehee deliberated, the more nervous Jaegyeom became.

Maybe he would ask for another kiss like yesterday. Or something even more outrageous.

Or maybe money, the same way Jaegyeom had offered half his assets.

If he asks for money, I’ll say everything belongs to Jeongju anyway. I’ll tell him I don’t even have a penny to my name...

As Jaegyeom desperately wracked his brain—

Yoon Taehee smiled.

“Take a picture.”

“What?”

Jaegyeom frowned.

“A picture?”

“Yeah. I want us to take one.”

“...”

Jaegyeom stared blankly at him.

The condition was unexpectedly simple. Almost embarrassingly modest.

After mentally preparing himself for all sorts of absurd demands, Jaegyeom suddenly felt ridiculous.

“...Well. Fine.”

He agreed easily enough.

Taking a picture was nothing.

“You know how to use a phone camera, right?”

“I do.”

Jaegyeom had taken pictures on a cell phone before.

Every season, Jeongju would buy new clothes, hold fashion shows around the house, and make Jaegyeom take pictures for him.

So Jaegyeom at least knew that pressing the circle on the screen took a photo.

Of course, his skills were terrible, and Jeongju constantly complained that the pictures were blurry or made his legs look short.

Jaegyeom nodded and held out his hand.

“Then give me your phone and go stand in front of the ocean.”

Yoon Taehee looked baffled.

“Why? You said you wanted a picture.”

Understanding dawned on his face a second later, followed immediately by disbelief.

“No, that’s not what I meant...”

You didn’t seriously think I wanted a solo photo of myself, did you?

“Then what, you want a picture of me?”

“Of both of us together.”

After saying that, Yoon Taehee told Jaegyeom to stay put and walked off somewhere.

He set his phone against a large structure facing the shore.

“A little more to the side.”

He adjusted the angle to frame Jaegyeom against the blue ocean.

“Like this?”

“A little left.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Perfect.”

After carefully centering the shot, Yoon Taehee set the timer and returned.

He stood shoulder to shoulder beside Jaegyeom.

Jaegyeom, still awkwardly frozen in place, asked,

“Is it taking already?”

“Yeah. Don’t move. Just look forward.”

Yoon Taehee told him to stay still until they heard the shutter sound.

So Jaegyeom obediently stood there ramrod straight, staring ahead.

Posing for a photo like this felt strangely awkward.

Several long seconds passed.

No click.

“...Hasn’t it taken yet?”

“Not yet.”

Squawk. Squawk.

Seagulls drifted overhead through the uncomfortable silence.

“Hey. When the hell is it taking it?”

Finally losing patience, Jaegyeom turned his head toward Yoon Taehee despite being told not to move.

At that exact moment, a hand slipped around his wrist like a vine.

Yoon Taehee lowered his head until their eyes met.

“Now.”

The instant they filled each other’s vision—

Click.

The shutter finally went off.

***

After the game ended, Jaegyeom dropped onto the sand.

He loosely wrapped his arms around his bent knees and gazed out at the blue ocean, where soft waves rolled endlessly ashore.

Then he glanced sideways.

“...”

Beside him, Yoon Taehee was still staring at the picture they had taken together.

Over and over again.

As if he meant to wear out the screen itself.

Jaegyeom watched his profile blankly.

For some reason, the sight gave him a strange feeling.

Why’s he looking at it that much just because we took one picture together...?

“Hey.”

At some point Jaegyeom turned back toward the sea and spoke.

“Yeah.”

Yoon Taehee immediately looked up.

Jaegyeom stretched lazily, then lay back in the sand. Yoon Taehee’s gaze followed him upward.

“...”

After staring silently at the sky for a while, Jaegyeom finally spoke again.

“Where did you live before this?”

The sudden question made Yoon Taehee hesitate briefly.

“If you don’t even have a TV at home, what do you do when you’re resting?”

“...”

“What did you think about while living at the temple?”

“...”

“After your family died... were the days hard for you too?”

“...”

Yoon Taehee looked at him quietly.

Jaegyeom rarely asked personal questions.

He never pried into other people’s lives, and he almost never volunteered anything about himself either.

“...Why all of a sudden?”

Yoon Taehee slowly lay back beside him, mirroring his posture.

As he did, their shoulders brushed lightly together.

Jaegyeom turned his head toward him.

“It’s not sudden.”

Yoon Taehee frowned slightly.

“What do you mean?”

Jaegyeom lowered his eyes.

“....”

A memory surfaced clearly in his mind.

A few days after waking from his rampage, he had gone back to school to say one final goodbye to Jo Youngwoo.

But instead he had run into Yoon Taehee and ended up in the library after classes.

You became curious about me. That’s why you came here.

That day Yoon Taehee had been arrogant, relaxed, merciless.

Are you insane? I’m not curious about someone like you at all.

Really? Then I’ll make you curious.

He still remembered the warmth of the hand that had cupped the back of his neck without permission while saying those words.

“...Back then, that part was a lie.”

After a long silence, Jaegyeom finally spoke.

“What part?”

“It’s true I went to the library because I was curious about you.”

Jaegyeom slowly lifted his eyes.

“I’ve been curious about you for a long time.”

The moment their eyes met fully, Yoon Taehee’s vision blurred.

He stared at Jaegyeom blankly, lying there with both hands folded over his stomach and his head turned toward him.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

“...Me too.”

At some point, Yoon Taehee answered softly, almost entranced.

“I’m always curious about you too.”

Their gazes locked together without the slightest gap between them.

They looked at each other for a long time.

Even though they understood each other better than anyone else, they still remained endlessly curious about one another.

Looking this closely, it almost felt possible to understand everything completely.

“...”

“...”

So the two lay there facing each other like drowsy boys.

Yoon Taehee’s eyes slowly traced over every feature of Jaegyeom’s face.

The neat dark brows.

The faint double eyelids and slightly upturned eyes.

The gently curved nose.

The soft fullness above his lips.

The mouth that somehow carried both bluntness and boldness at once.

The cheeks small enough to fit into one hand.

And suddenly—

An unbearable emotion crashed into him.

His nose stung sharply.

Something swelled painfully in his chest.

His heart twisted as though struck directly.

Yoon Taehee’s face crumpled. He buried himself against Jaegyeom’s chest as if clinging to him.

Ah. I’ll probably...

Spend the rest of my life longing for this moment.

In that instant, Yoon Taehee realized something.

His entire life before this had been empty.

He had spent it running like a horse with blinders on, staring only at revenge.

He had ignored every landscape around him. Never stopped anywhere long enough to look.

For ten years he had waited like that.

Killing his own heart over and over again until he finally made it this far.

That desolation, that emptiness, that sharpness—

Those things were what had allowed him to survive.

But ever since arriving on this island, he had been quietly collapsing piece by piece without even realizing it.

And now, in this dazzling moment, everything hurt unbearably.

The collapsed sandcastle hurt.

The brilliant sunlight pouring down hurt.

The rolling waves hurt.

Even the distant horizon hurt.

And in the middle of all that beautiful scenery—

you and I are here.

...Theo wanted to go to the sea.

To a beautiful island where emerald waves glittered beneath the sun.

Somewhere no one could find him.

Somewhere he would not have to wait for anyone anymore.

The lonely Theo had wanted to go to the lonely sea and stop being lonely.

What Yoon Taehee was facing now was the wonder of life itself.

“Yes. This is what I wanted.”

Building sandcastles with you.

Building them together. Destroying them together.

For something so beautiful and meaningless—

I was meant to meet you.

Why were humans weakest in the moments they were happiest?

At this moment, Yoon Taehee was weaker than anyone.

Jaegyeom’s eyes widened when Yoon Taehee suddenly buried his face against his chest and clutched at him.

“What’s wrong?”

Yoon Taehee’s shoulders trembled faintly.

Jaegyeom’s expression changed immediately.

He pushed himself upright and grabbed Yoon Taehee by the shoulders.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

But Yoon Taehee said nothing.

“Taehee.”

Jaegyeom grabbed his face and lifted it.

Yoon Taehee’s brow was tightly furrowed, as though he had swallowed something unbearably bitter.

With a trembling hand, he gripped Jaegyeom’s jaw.

“...Should we run away?”

The way he said it felt dangerously unstable.

“What?”

“Let’s run away together.”

Jaegyeom froze.

Yoon Taehee lowered his head and pressed his forehead against Jaegyeom’s knee.

His soft hair spilled over Jaegyeom’s leg like silk.

“Let’s pretend none of it ever happened...”

The revenge.

The Office of Narye.

Let’s erase all of it and go somewhere no one knows us.

Somewhere nobody is waiting for us.

Somewhere nobody can find us.

“Let’s run away, Jaegyeom...”

Jaegyeom’s expression slowly hardened.

At that moment, he understood just how violently Yoon Taehee was shaking inside.

Like a thin winter branch trembling in the wind.

“...”

Still staring down at him, Jaegyeom slowly reached out a # Nоvеlight # hand.

“Yoon Taehee.”

His hand settled gently against the back of Taehee’s head, carefully smoothing through his hair.

Yoon Taehee’s shoulders stiffened.

Jaegyeom’s hand slid lower, gripping the nape of his neck.

“How can we pretend it never happened?”

At those words, Yoon Taehee slowly lifted his head.

“...”

Steady eyes looked directly at him without wavering.

“What are you afraid of?”

Jaegyeom’s grip tightened slightly around the back of his neck.

“I told you I’d let you win.”

In an instant, the boy pulled Yoon Taehee back into reality.

“Let’s finish everything first.”

His wandering eyes slowly widened.

“And then let’s come back here again.”

Ah.

The thing that keeps me alive.

The thing that kills me.

“I’ll protect your ten years.”

And then Jaegyeom smiled faintly.

“Now it starts.”