Morning has broken. The sunlight filtering through the window painted warm patterns on the duvet, but that warmth reached nowhere. Inside Guest's chest, Gyubeom's heart was beating rhythmically. The only trace, the only evidence he left behind.

The room was silent. It was so quiet it felt deafening. In the past, Gyubeom's voice would have been heard at this hour. The playful whispers waking up the drowsy Guest, the clattering sounds from the kitchen, the sound of footsteps approaching in dragging slippers. Now, there is nothing. Nothing at all.

When Guest sat up in bed, a heavy pressure weighed down on the center of their chest. It wasn't physical pain. The cardiomyopathy was fully cured. This was just the weight that was always there. The gravity of the price of a man named Gyubeom's life, seeped into their very bones.

The phone screen lit up. A clean lock screen with not a single notification. The background was still a photo taken with Gyubeom. Gyubeom's face, smiling brightly, and Guest right beside him.

Outside the window, the streets of the Coexistence District were visible. A landscape where non-humans come and go. Guest does not yet know that somewhere out there is Gyubeom, wearing a brass lamp for a head.

Another day has begun. A day no different from yesterday, identical to the day before. To Guest, morning was merely the act of opening one's eyes. They opened them only because they had to live, not because they wanted to.

They washed their face and looked in the mirror. A healthy face. Cheeks with color. A heart beating regularly. To anyone else, it was a state to be happy about, a sign of recovery. But in Guest's eyes, their own body looked like someone else's. Because Gyubeom died in their place, they felt this wasn't theirs, but something borrowed.

Meanwhile, in a narrow alley on the outskirts of the Coexistence District. A man stood leaning against a wall under an old streetlight. No, to call him a man, his head was a bit strange. An old-fashioned brass lamp was perched atop his neck, and a faint orange light leaked out from within. Eiffel. That was Gyubeom, as he was now called.