The night was quiet.
The sound of waves came and went, brushing softly against the shore outside the hotel.
Hanaya sat on the edge of the bed, watching MK sleep. His breathing was steady, peaceful — like a boy who finally found a place to belong.
But peace, as always, never lasts.
Rheon stood at the window, phone in hand, his reflection half-hidden in the glass.
"Hanaya," he said quietly, "can we talk?"
She turned to him, her voice gentle. "Not now, Rheon. He's asleep."
"That's exactly why we should talk now," he said, stepping closer.
His tone was calm, but there was something sharp underneath.
"You didn't tell me you were planning to bring him here."
Hanaya hesitated. "I didn't plan it. He just… came."
Rheon smiled faintly. "Came? All the way from another country? That's not something a child just does on a whim."
She looked down. "He's not just any child. He's been through things you wouldn't understand."
Rheon's eyes softened, but only slightly. "I understand more than you think. But Hanaya, you have to realize how this looks. You're living with me, and suddenly a boy you used to message years ago appears… and you let him stay?"
Hanaya flinched. "You make it sound wrong."
"I'm not saying it's wrong," he said smoothly, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm saying people will misunderstand. And I don't want that for you."
She exhaled, torn between guilt and confusion. "He doesn't have anyone, Rheon. I can't just send him away."
Rheon's expression hardened for a second, then softened again — practiced, careful.
"You have a kind heart, Hanaya. That's why I love you."
He smiled — a smile she wanted to believe in, but something about it felt… too polished.
"I just don't want him to take advantage of that."
The next morning, MK woke up early and walked toward the beach.
The air was warm, the sand cool beneath his feet.
He looked at the sea and whispered to himself, "Maybe this is what home feels like."
He didn't notice Rheon watching from the balcony above, eyes cold, calculating.
> "He's too comfortable already," Rheon thought.
"Time to remind him — he doesn't belong here."
Later that day, during breakfast, Rheon began his quiet game.
"So, MK," he said casually, slicing his toast. "What are your plans while you're here?"
MK blinked. "Plans?"
"Yes. You can't stay in hotels forever, right? You must have somewhere to go."
Hanaya frowned slightly. "Rheon…"
But MK smiled politely. "I'll find a place soon. I'm saving up."
"Saving up?" Rheon's voice carried just a hint of disbelief. "At your age?"
MK met his gaze, calm but firm. "I work online. Design, writing… small things."
Rheon chuckled lightly, as if amused. "Impressive. You're… quite independent for a kid."
The word kid hit harder than he expected.
Hanaya noticed the flicker in MK's eyes but said nothing.
That night, Rheon sat beside Hanaya again.
"I don't like the way he looks at you," he said quietly.
Hanaya turned to him, surprised. "He's a child."
"He's not acting like one."
She frowned. "That's unfair."
"Maybe," Rheon replied, his voice low, "but something about him feels… manipulative. Like he knows how to make you feel guilty."
Hanaya looked away, but the seed had already been planted.
> He's just a boy, she told herself.
But… why does he look at me like that? Like I owe him something?
Outside, MK sat alone under the moonlight, sketchbook in hand.
He drew Hanaya's smile — the one she had when they first met at the airport.
It already looked different now. Fainter.
Like a photograph slowly losing color.
He whispered, "Maybe promises aren't meant to be kept aft
er all."
The waves answered with silence.