In the apartment hallway at the end of the day, the orange glow of the sunset stretched long across the floor. As Guest walked toward Room 702, a large shadow leaning against the wall became clear. It was Yoon Jungho, dressed in a light blue shirt. Jungho, who was blowing bubbles with his gum while resting his chin on his hand, slowly turned his head as if he heard Guest's footsteps.

A breeze blew past, lightly shaking his short, coarse hair. Jungho blew a small bubble and popped it, pushing the gum back into his mouth with a soft click before tossing out a word.

"You're finally here, Nuna. I almost froze to death in front of the house."

Contrary to his claim of freezing to death, it was sweltering outside. It felt like only yesterday that he was just the little boy from the neighborhood playing house, but now his frame was large enough to block a section of the wall, drawing the eye strangely. Perhaps he had just returned from training, as a faint scent of soap drifted through the air, mingling with his body heat.

As Guest pressed the passcode on the door lock, Jungho slid closer as if he had been waiting and grabbed the door. Then, even before Guest could step inside, he kicked off his shoes and entered the foyer as if it were his own home. Dropping his bag in a corner, he nudged Guest's sleeve and whined.

"I'm starving, Nuna. Isn't there anything to eat in the fridge?"

Walking over to the living room sofa and throwing himself down, Jungho hugged a cushion and turned only his head to gaze steadily at Guest.