The days that followed weren't really days.
More like a long stretch of fog, a thick haze in which Nari moved like a ghost, suspended between two worlds: the one she tried to rebuild, and the one that still called to her in silence, with that dark voice that kept echoing in her head despite her.
She went to work.
She smiled when needed.
She talked when spoken to.
Her hands performed the usual gestures: typing on a keyboard, filling files, organizing things, answering emails.
But inside, everything was dead.
Everything except the craving.
That craving swollen, burning, unbearable, hiding between every breath.
A craving she hated, cursed, tried to smother every morning by repeating:
— He doesn't exist. He never existed.
But she was lying.
She knew it.
The hole in her belly was living proof of the opposite.
Her boyfriend tried to be tender.
He made her coffee.
He covered her at night.
He wrapped his arm around her when she fell asleep in front of the TV.
And yet…
Nothing went in anymore.
Nothing touched her.
Not even his smile, not even his sweet words, not even his warm arms around her.
She played her role.
Like before.
But this time, it was worse: she now knew what it meant to live with fire.
To be desired until it burned.
To feel someone devour your heart and body with that dangerous, almost forbidden intensity.
So how do you become lukewarm again…
after tasting the wildfire?
One evening, her boyfriend came home with that clumsy, adorable smile she once loved so much, his eyes sparkling with a gentle, almost childlike excitement.
— Nari… tonight, I'd like to take you to a restaurant. Dress up nicely!
She lifted her eyes toward him.
His voice was soft.
His intentions pure.
His love… sincere.
And yet…
her stomach tightened.
An instinctive resistance, a fatigue collapsing on her shoulders like a stone too heavy.
— I don't know… I'm not really in the mood lately…
He sat beside her, took her hand, wrapped it in tender, familiar warmth.
— Come on… please. It'll do us good. It's been a while since we've done something just the two of us.
A dull guilt rose in her like a slow poison.
He was trying.
He did everything for her.
And she… she was somewhere else.
— Fine… okay, she murmured.
— For what occasion? she dared to ask.
He laughed, flustered, scratching his neck with an adorable glimmer in his eyes.
— Just because! A guy can't spoil his girlfriend anymore?
She forced a laugh.
Forced a smile.
Forced everything, really.
In the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror as she got ready, she saw her own reflection as if it belonged to another woman.
A woman who had lived too fast, too hard, too wrong.
A woman who knew what she had lost and what she could never get back.
When the door rang to signal he was ready, she took a deep breath, like a diver about to enter ice-cold water.
— Come on…
Just tonight.
Just a little.
And she went downstairs.
She didn't know the night was going to break her all over again.
And that what she thought was extinguished would resurface…
with a violence she wasn't prepared to face.
The restaurant was small, warm, lit by golden fairy lights and candles dancing behind fogged windows.
A scent of hot soup, grilled dishes, and red wine filled the air—
a cozy, familiar, almost magical ambiance, the kind of simple evenings some couples look forward to.
With time, something softened.
She found herself laughing — a small, fragile laugh, but real.
Her boyfriend, proud as ever, smiled every time she did, as if it were a gift she was giving him.
Their meal went smoothly: anecdotes about work, jokes she already knew but that still pulled a smile from her, sweet wine warming her throat — not like fire, but like a lukewarm blanket.
For a moment, she thought:
Maybe this is what real life is.
Safety.
Softness.
Peace.
Sion had never offered peace.
Only chaos.
Fire.
Destruction.
A passion so intense she had burned her skin, her nerves, her heart on it.
Here, tonight, she didn't tremble.
She didn't lose her breath.
She didn't feel condemned by insane desire.
Everything was… normal.
Almost beautiful, even.
And yet.
They left the restaurant, hand in hand.
The city breathed autumn: fresh air, slightly humid, neon lights reflecting on wet sidewalks, people laughing on terraces despite the wind, a softness floating in the atmosphere.
— Feels good, doesn't it? he said, squeezing her hand.
— Yes… she whispered.
And it wasn't a lie.
They walked for a long time, side by side, finding a complicity they had lost.
Nari felt part of herself relax, let go, drift.
Until he stopped.
In front of the old illuminated bridge, a bridge they had crossed dozens of times together.
A bridge where he had said "I love you" for the first time.
A bridge that tonight glowed like a stage set just for them.
He turned to her.
His hands trembled.
His breath too.
— Nari…
I…
He went down on one knee.
The world stopped.
Her heart too.
Or maybe it exploded.
She couldn't tell.
He took out a small black box.
A box that suddenly weighed like an anvil.
— Nari… will you marry me?
Nari's breath vanished.
All the colors of the world blurred.
The city noise became muffled, distant.
She felt herself slipping out of her own body.
As if she were watching the scene from far away.
Very far.
There, in front of her, a man she had known for years.
A man she had truly loved.
A man good, stable, tender.
A man who wanted to build a life with her.
And deep inside her belly, in a corner she wished she could tear out, another face surfaced.
A slow, cruel, beautiful smile.
Golden eyes piercing straight through her.
A breath haunting her nights.
Hands that had left an imprint impossible to erase.
Sion.
No. Not now. Not here. Not like this.
But it was too late.
He was there.
Alive in her mind like a second skin.
Her boyfriend waited.
Eyes shining.
Full of love.
Full of hope.
And she…
she had only a whisper left.
— Yes… I accept.
She said it.
Her lips formed the word before she even understood what it meant.
He stood up, hugged her, spun her around, kissed her as if the world belonged to them.
— I LOVE NARI AND WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!!! he shouted into the night.
People clapped.
Laughter, cheers, a small crowd looked at them with tenderness.
Nari smiled.
Yes.
She smiled.
But inside, something collapsed in silence.
Like a building blown up from the inside, invisible at first glance, but destined to crumble.
She looked at the lake.
The reflections.
The lights.
And behind all that…
in a shadowed corner…
She saw Sion's ghost.
Not a memory.
A craving.
A fire.
A presence refusing to die.
And without knowing why, a traitorous tear slid down her cheek.
The following days passed like a slow-motion film — a succession of gestures, dialogues, mechanical smiles that seemed to belong to another person.
A Nari from before.
A Nari who no longer truly existed.
She woke every morning in the same bed, next to a now-ecstatic fiancé who talked about rings, reception halls, guest lists, travel ideas…
He glowed.
He radiated even.
And his joy was so pure it became painful to witness.
Nari nodded.
Smiled.
Answered.
She played her role perfectly.
At work, the usual giggles returned as if nothing had changed.
The girls in the open space examined her ring with a mix of jealousy and sarcasm.
— Ohhh, she's getting married!
— Didn't think she had an emotional life, said one, chewing her gum.
— Maybe the boss is disappointed now, added the other with a mocking laugh.
Nari didn't react.
Not a glance.
Not a flicker.
She was hermetic.
An empty fortress.
Mr. Kang walked behind her, heavy, imposing, his eyes gleaming with an inappropriate interest.
— Congratulations, he said slowly, as if the syllables weighed in his mouth.
— Thank you, she replied without turning around.
He dropped two massive folders onto her keyboard, far too close to her arm.
— You're staying tonight. I need you.
She felt a shiver of disgust crawl up her spine.
Before, she would've said yes.
Out of fear.
Out of reflex.
Out of learned submission.
Today… no.
She shut the folders with a sharp snap.
— I'm not staying. I have a life now.
Silence.
The entire open space froze.
The girls stopped laughing.
Kang stared at her, stunned, as if she had just slapped him.
Then, in an icy murmur:
— You remember I can make your days very long here?
Nari stood up, grabbed her things, and left the office.
She could feel that this strength was strange, unstable, dangerous—like a new skin she hadn't learned to wear yet.
Winter arrived brutally.
The nights became cold, long, silent.
Life was "normal."
Stable.
Reassuring.
A month had passed since Sion's disappearance.
A month during which she had tried—truly tried—to become who she was before him again.
To rebuild herself, to return to that simple, peaceful, predictable life.
And sometimes, she managed.
A few minutes.
A few hours.
Then a memory returned.
His hands.
His voice.
The way he touched her as if she were the only woman on earth.
The way he broke her as if she'd been made for that.
No matter what she did… he remained.
One evening, she was alone at home.
Her fiancé had gone to watch the match with his friends.
The apartment was soaked in soft calm: dim light, the hum of the fridge, fine rain tapping against the windows.
Nari took a hot shower, put on soft pajamas, slipped into bed.
She was about to fall asleep when—
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
Sharp knocks.
Far too insistent.
Too impatient.
She thought it was her fiancé, probably drunk, probably loud.
She opened the door, ready to tease him.
And her heart stopped.
—
SION.
Standing in the doorway.
His hair drenched.
His shirt open, wrinkled, stained.
His eyes red.
His lips parted.
A bottle hanging from his hand.
The smell of strong alcohol mixing with his dark, woody scent.
He was dead drunk.
But even drunk, he was painfully beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Too dangerous.
He walked in without asking, without greeting, without thinking, almost stumbling.
And everything in her collapsed all at once—a wave of heat, fear, craving, love, all mixed, all tangled.
She tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
Her throat was blocked.
He lifted his eyes to her.
And in a collapsed, broken, intoxicated breath, he murmured:
— …So…
did you miss me?
The room spun around her.
Her heart too.
Nari didn't move.
Her breath froze.
Her heart, frozen too, beat one second too early, one second too hard—as if it recognized before she did what she refused to feel.
Sion remained there, swaying, the bottle in his hand, his head slightly lowered, his eyelids heavy.
But his eyes… his eyes, despite the alcohol, were fixed on her with an intensity almost painful, a burn that pierced the skin to reach the bone.
A mix of distress and desire.
A mix he had never shown.
Not even that night.
Not even in the rawest moments.
He took a step forward.
Just one.
And that was enough to change the air between them, to electrify it, to make it too heavy to breathe.
— Why… why are you like this…
His voice cracked at the end, making him almost human.
Nari opened her mouth, but no sound came.
He kept walking, each step clumsy but driven by a force she had never seen in him—not the dominant, confident Sion who controlled everything.
No.
A broken Sion.
A falling Sion.
A Sion coming back to her like a dying man crawling toward a light.
— Why can't I… forget you…
The bottle slipped from his fingers.
The sound of glass on the floor rang like a gunshot.
And before she could react, he was on her.
Not violently.
Not brutally.
Not like before.
He collapsed against her.
Literally.
His forehead dropped to her shoulder.
His hands found her waist, gripping her as if she were the last thing keeping him from sinking.
His breath—warm, uneven, desperate—died against her collarbone.
— I don't know what you did… but you're in my fucking head… he murmured, his voice trembling, drowned in alcohol, drowned in something even stronger.
Nari felt a sharp pain cross her chest.
A beautiful pain.
A terrible pain.
A pain that said: he came back.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, hesitant, almost afraid of the fragility of this giant collapsing against her.
— Sion… you smell like alcohol.
— I don't love you, he growled, defensive.
— I don't love you, I don't want you… but you're everywhere…
He lifted his head.
And there—
she saw.
She saw her Sion.
Not the one who played.
Not the one who lied.
Not the one who manipulated.
No.
The one who had never learned to love.
The one who had been broken too early.
The one who didn't know how to live with what she awakened in him.
His golden eyes shone with a light she didn't recognize.
A light that brought tears to her eyes.
— Why… did you leave me…
— You're the one who left me, she whispered, her heart tight.
He placed his hand behind her neck, pulled her against him, and kissed her.
Not like usual.
Not possessive.
Not voracious.
Not commanding.
No.
A broken kiss.
A kiss from a man asking for forgiveness without knowing how to say it.
A kiss from a man who came back because he didn't know where else to go.
His lips trembled against hers.
His hands were unsteady on her skin.
He kissed her as if she were a refuge.
As if she could mend what had shattered in him.
Nari felt her whole body tighten — not with desire.
Not yet.
First: with pain.
With tenderness.
With longing.
A longing that stabbed her without warning.
She wanted to push him away.
Hit him.
Hate him.
Slap him for leaving her to rot without a word.
But instead, she held him.
And her fingers slid into his nape like a silent answer:
I'm angry at you. I hurt. Don't let go of me.
He almost groaned, a raw, animal sound, as if that single touch had finished him.
Then he pressed his forehead against hers.
— Nari… stop me.
— I'm gonna fuck up again.
— Stop me or I'll take you right here… right now…
She opened her mouth to say no.
But a yes came out.
A yes in her breath.
In her eyes.
In her body.
In her hands already pulling him toward her.
The fall began again.
And they fell together.
The fall was immediate.
Instinctive.
Inevitable.
Sion grabbed her by the waist to lift her against him, but the alcohol made his movements less precise, less controlled — which paradoxically made them more real, more human, more dangerous.
Nari felt her back hit the closed door behind her.
The shock made her shiver.
He placed his hands on either side of her face, trapping her without brutality — just that trembling urgency.
That urgency that said I can't breathe without you.
Their eyes met.
Not a word.
Not a wasted breath.
Just this naked, monstrous truth:
They were doomed.
Doomed for each other.
Doomed by pain, by craving, by desire.
Sion slid his fingers along her cheek, slowly, as if memorizing her skin.
As if part of him feared she might disappear the moment he blinked.
— You know what's the worst part…? he murmured, his voice raw with alcohol and exhaustion.
She didn't answer.
She didn't dare.
He brought his mouth to her ear.
His lips trembled.
— I want you so fucking much I hate myself.
His words hit her straight in the heart.
A punch.
A blow of love.
A blow of ruin.
Nari inhaled too quickly, too sharply, as if her soul was trying to escape her chest.
He looked at her with a blend of rage and distress.
A part of her had always wanted to see him like this.
On his knees.
Broken.
For her.
He placed his hand on her throat — not to squeeze, not to dominate.
Just to feel her pulse.
— Fuck…
His voice cracked.
She closed her eyes.
Tears gathered without warning.
She tried to hold them back, to stay strong, not to give herself once more to this man who made her suffer as much as he made her alive.
But he saw everything.
Every shiver.
Every hesitation.
Every tremble of her lips.
So he broke.
Literally.
His hands slid abruptly to her nape, and he kissed her.
A ravaged kiss.
A kiss born of craving.
A kiss from a man returning from war.
She answered instantly.
Not from weakness.
From truth.
The kiss became deep, voracious, but not aggressive — a violent mix of passion and pleading.
He pressed her against him as if he wanted to disappear into her skin.
She clung to his shoulders as if she were falling off a cliff.
They moved blindly, their hands searching for warmth, for skin, for absolution.
They bumped into the hallway wall.
Then the table.
Then the couch.
Nothing existed around them.
Nothing but the burning breath of one against the mouth of the other.
— Tell me no, he panted against her lips.
— Please… tell me no… tell me to get the fuck out…
— No…
— No what?
His voice almost a whimper.
She whispered — a whisper that made his entire body tremble:
— Don't leave…
He closed his eyes.
His fingers tightened in her hair.
— Fuck, Nari… you're gonna hate me…
Then he lifted her.
Literally.
As if she weighed nothing.
As if her body was a prayer he could no longer ignore.
He laid her on the bed with a mix of softness and desperation.
His hands trembled on her skin.
His lips traced her throat, her shoulder, her collarbones.
— I can't live without you anymore…
She placed her hand on his cheek.
He trembled.
A raw shiver.
All monsters carry inside them a pain deeper and more devastating than others, and he was one of them.
He lowered his head, rested his forehead on her bare stomach.
Breathed against her skin.
For a long time.
As if he were being reborn.
Then he murmured, his voice broken:
— Let me stay tonight.
— Just tonight… before everything explodes again.
She slid her fingers through his dark hair.
— Stay.
He lay down against her.
Not to fuck her.
Not to possess her.
Not to dominate her.
Just… to hold on.
To survive.
To breathe.
Their breathing synced.
Their fingers intertwined.
Their eyes closed.
The world collapsed under an invisible snow.
And in that bed, between the smell of alcohol, pain, and human warmth:
Something unspoken, forbidden, indestructible
took root.
Not love.
Not yet.
Something more dangerous:
Shared obsession.
Dependence.
Mutual downfall.
And it is there—
in that silence—
that their destruction truly begins.