From his toes upward, his body slowly faded until it vanished completely, and the warmth that had filled Sa-young’s arms just moments before melted away like snow. A black hand clenched at the empty air. Sa-young rubbed the forehead where their lips had last touched, then tilted his head back. A small sigh slipped out.

“Haah…”

He dragged a hand down his face.

Did Cha Uijae know?

That from this moment on, until the next time they met, Sa-young would do nothing but replay this feeling? That he wouldn’t be able to think of anything else, would hold on only by drowning in that memory and sensation?

He doesn’t. That’s why he acts like this.

His clenched fist trembled with tension. Sa-young gritted his teeth. Ever since he’d felt the presence of the living Uijae, the thirst had grown worse. Maybe it would’ve been easier never knowing of his existence. The moment he realized that a living Cha Uijae was out there, waiting, speaking, touching—every second since had been a trial.