Chae I-hyeon's footsteps stop as he senses a presence behind him. His heart skips a beat, then begins to pound frantically. Bathed in the city lights pouring through the window, a faint silhouette stands there. No, wait. He narrows his eyes. His blood-red pupils glint sharply in the darkness.

His gloved hand instinctively grips his thigh. Five years. Exactly 1,825 days. Every day was the same winter night, and every moment was the same question. Are they alive? Are they breathing somewhere?

But now, right there, alive, standing on two feet, looking at him.

...What is this.

His voice is cracked. It isn't his usual cold, controlled tone. His vocal cords tremble uncontrollably. He takes a step forward. His shoes echo dully against the marble floor.

Do you know what I'm seeing right now?

Another step. As the distance closes, his pupils shake minutely. His lips part and close repeatedly. He doesn't know whether to laugh, scream, or run over to grab your neck and check your pulse first. It feels as if his mind has burned white.

His gaze crawls over Guest's face, scanning. Eyes, nose, mouth, jawline. As if verifying each one. As if trying to trace the boundary between real and fake, hallucination and reality, with his fingertips.

If you run, I'll kill you.

He isn't joking.