Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 72: That Which Lies Dead

Cradling Ha Giyeon’s limp body in his arms, Son Suhyeon stared down at the boy whose eyes had fluttered shut. Without wasting a second, he rushed over to a bench in the corner of the field and gently laid him down.

Supporting Giyeon’s back with one arm, Suhyeon called out to him.

“Ha Giyeon... Giyeon-ah...”

He called his name desperately, again and again, but Giyeon, drenched in cold sweat, didn’t open his eyes.

His skin was ghostly pale, lips drained of all color. Suhyeon’s heart pounded wildly. Giyeon lay there just like... the corpse he had once seen.

Death.

The chilling word leapt to mind, and Suhyeon reached for his phone to call an ambulance. But before he could, Giyeon stopped him—his dry lips moved faintly as he lifted a weak hand in protest.

“Not the... hospital... take me... home...”

Even while drifting in and out of consciousness, Giyeon was clearly refusing to go to the hospital. Judging by his condition, he needed emergency care right away, but Suhyeon, moved by his pleading tone, ended up lowering his phone.

If it was something Giyeon didn’t want, he wouldn’t do it. No matter what. The reason, perhaps, was...

“...Damn it.” freeweɓnovel.cѳm

He said he wanted to go home, but Suhyeon didn’t know where that was. He tried asking the barely conscious Giyeon, but of course, he couldn’t get a clear answer.

Panic bubbled up. He couldn’t just leave him like this. The nurse’s office had been an option, but the teacher had said they’d be out for a while on a trip. Suhyeon had run out of options.

Then... the only possibility left was...

“Ha Dohoon...”

The thought hit him like a slap to the back of the head. Calling Dohoon wasn’t something he wanted to do—but if Kwon Jongseok was to be believed, it probably wasn’t something Giyeon would want either.

Then that leaves...

Just one option.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Suhyeon glanced at the pain etched into Giyeon’s expression and immediately hoisted him onto his back and left through the school gates.

He knew this would be marked as an unauthorized early dismissal, but he didn’t care in the slightest. What mattered to him was the disturbing lightness of the boy on his back.

Near the bus stop where taxis passed most often, Suhyeon flagged one down. This was only the second time in his life he’d ever taken a taxi.

One slowly pulled up onto the curb. Suhyeon helped Giyeon in first, then got in after and gave the driver an address.

As the taxi moved, he gently leaned Giyeon’s head against his shoulder and brushed the sweat-matted hair from his forehead.

Why did he always look like he was in pain?

Every time he saw him, something about him seemed sick or fragile. He had already suffered enough because of his family—Suhyeon regretted adding to that pain.

He held Giyeon’s burning hand, limp and lifeless in his own.

Smoothly, the steering wheel turned, and the car’s chassis followed its gentle movement.

“Hah...”

Ha Ilwoo lowered the documents he had been holding and rubbed his eyelids. The vehicle wasn’t rocking or moving loudly, but he still couldn’t keep reading.

Unlike his usual self, Ilwoo’s face was weighed with fatigue. Normally, he would have sorted through paperwork ahead of time, but today, he couldn’t focus.

It had started the moment Ha Giyeon was discharged from the hospital.

They had recommended he stay longer, but Giyeon had firmly insisted on leaving. They couldn’t force him to stay, so Ilwoo allowed it on the condition that he return home. Fearing he might detour to school, he even had Secretary Kim escort him—thankfully, Giyeon had come home without protest.

It was a relief he hadn’t gone straight to school, but even at home, Giyeon looked unwell.

Late that evening, for the first time, Ha Ilwoo visited his ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) son’s room. At first, he mistakenly opened the storage room and stood awkwardly in front of a stack of boxes before realizing how tucked away Giyeon’s room really was.

Worried he might be asleep, he carefully opened the door and approached the bed. Giyeon was buried beneath the covers up to his neck, breathing softly as he slept. It was the first time Ilwoo had seen such a peaceful expression on his face.

When he looked at Ilwoo or Mihyun, Giyeon’s face always wore fear, discomfort. Eventually, he had even stopped making eye contact altogether.

But now, to see that peaceful expression—only when asleep...

The tranquility was so complete that it sent a chill down Ilwoo’s spine. His skin, pale as a ghost, lips sealed shut, eyelids closed...

He looked exactly like a corpse.

Unconsciously trembling, Ilwoo reached out and placed a hand beneath his nose.

A faint breath brushed against his fingers.

What am I even doing...

He exhaled in relief. Of course he was alive—why had he been so scared? Why had he even needed to check?

That night, Ilwoo dreamed.

He stood alone in the middle of a dark space.

Turning his head, he spotted a dim glow—just one spot where light spilled through the darkness. It illuminated nothing but empty air.

Naturally, Ilwoo moved toward it. Anyone would seek out the light instead of the dark.

Just as he neared the glow—

BEEEEP!

A deafening horn split the space, and a black car raced past him, grazing his side. Before he could track it with his eyes—

CRASH!

It slammed into something and stopped.

The car disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the echo of impact.

Then—

Splat.

Something fell into the middle of the light.

Ilwoo, who had turned to look in the direction the car had gone, felt his heart begin to race.

He didn’t need to check. He already knew what had fallen—and didn’t want to know. Every drop of blood in his body froze, and his pounding heart felt like it would burst.

He could smell iron. Blood.

Slowly, he turned his head. His neck fought him like it knew he shouldn’t see it. His vision blurred, but he could still tell—something red had soaked the floor.

He found himself walking closer. One heavy step at a time.

When he finally stood in front of it, he clapped a hand over his mouth.

The figure lay sprawled, soaked in blood.

It was definitely human.

Lying face down, unmoving—and somehow, hauntingly familiar. If it were a stranger, there’s no way his heart would be pounding like this.

Ilwoo reached out. His hand trembled but didn’t stop as he grabbed the person’s shoulder and turned them over.

And then—he saw that familiar profile.

“Gasp...!”

Ilwoo bolted upright, gasping for breath.

He choked as his lungs expanded, his heart thundering in his ears. All he could hear was the pounding of blood in his skull.

Clutching his chest, he forced his breath to steady. He focused on what was around him.

Not the darkness of the dream, but a room bright with artificial light. Books lined the shelves. Neatly stacked documents sat on the desk.

He was in his study.

“Hah...”

He must’ve dozed off—he hadn’t been sleeping well lately.

Shaken by the lingering images of the dream, he clenched a fist. Not from tension, but terror—his hand trembled uncontrollably.

Who had that bloodied figure been? Why had someone like that appeared in his dream?

Even if it was just a second—

It was Ha Giyeon.

Had he been thinking about him lately? Was it because he’d been sick recently?

It couldn’t have been him in the dream. And yet—Ilwoo felt suffocated.

Trying to clear his head, he left the study and headed to the kitchen.

It was almost 6 a.m., and in the kitchen, Kang Jinhee was preparing breakfast. Hearing footsteps, she turned and bowed when she saw him.

“Do you need anything, sir?”

“Just a cup of coffee, please.”

Ilwoo opened a drawer and took out a painkiller. He swallowed it dry. He knew it wasn’t good to take medicine on an empty stomach and then drink coffee, but his hands wouldn’t stop.

His head ached like it would split open—if this continued, he wouldn’t be able to get any work done.

He accepted the cup from Jinhee, but before he left the kitchen, his eyes flicked to the dining table.

The image of that boy in his dream had reminded him of Giyeon.

So instead of returning to the study, he turned toward Giyeon’s room.

He’s probably still asleep.

Given how unwell he had seemed, it might be best to keep him home from school this week.

The dream had left him unsettled, too. He’d check in on Giyeon’s condition just to be sure.

Ilwoo quietly opened the door—

“...!”

Cold air and a neatly made bed greeted him.

Startled, he checked the bathroom next door—but Giyeon wasn’t there.

It was obvious.

He had gone out.

Why...?

Why would he go to school?

Ilwoo couldn’t understand. If he was sick, why not just rest?

Was he really that desperate to go to school? Or did he just hate being in this house that much?

Ilwoo hurried downstairs and called for Kang Jinhee.

“Ha—Giyeon, did he already leave for school?”

“Yes, he left very early this morning.”

“Ha...”

So he had gone out, just like always. Ilwoo stared at the empty seat at the table.

“Did he... eat breakfast before leaving?”

“...?”

Jinhee nearly gasped. It was the first time Ilwoo had ever asked about Giyeon’s well-being.

When he was younger—even if he collapsed—Ilwoo never cared. And now...

“No, he said he had no appetite and left without eating.”

“And you... just let him go...?”

He had meant to say that.

But the words caught in his throat.

Do I even have the right to say that?

He had never once cared whether Giyeon ate or not—what gave him the right to say anything now?

Silently, he turned to leave for the study—but paused.

“If... when Giyeon comes home—call me.”