FLIA 80

“Yang Yohan-ssi. Did you sleep well last night? Did the new sleeping pills work?”

“Hyunmook hyung…?”

Even as he mumbled blankly, Yohan couldn’t quite figure out what felt off. His mind was hazy, strangely fogged over. Why was the other person calling him Yang Yohan-ssi? He used to call him more familiarly before. And why was he here? What had happened to him?

“It seems the medication is still in your system. Your body feels weak, doesn’t it? You might collapse, so how about sitting on the bed for now?”

Still dazed, Yohan followed the gentle guidance and slowly walked over to sit on the bed. He felt that something was wrong, and kept staring at the man’s face. And Lee Hyunmook sat beside him with a kind smile. It was only then that Yohan noticed the white coat. A name tag was pinned above the pocket.

“A doctor…?”

Yohan murmured weakly, and Lee Hyunmook answered in a gentle, soothing tone.

“That’s right. I’m your attending doctor.”

My doctor, Lee Hyunmook? That’s right, Lee Hyunmook was a doctor. But… not this kind of doctor, was he? Something felt strange. As Yohan tilted his head in confusion, Hyunmook patted his shoulder and said,

“From the look of your complexion, it seems the sleeping pills didn’t work well. You look especially tired today. Are you feeling unwell anywhere else?”

A crushing fatigue overwhelmed Yohan as soon as the words left Lee Hyunmook’s mouth. The headache that had been dull before sharpened into a near-migraine. Yohan groaned and clutched his head.

“Yeah, my head hurts…”

“Then I’ll prescribe some painkillers with your morning meds. Come on, let’s take a little walk before breakfast.”

Still unsure of what was happening, Yohan let Lee Hyunmook help him to his feet. His steps were slow and heavy as he wandered through the corridors, and then familiar faces caught his eye.

“Huh? Yakrin noona…?”

Yohan murmured in surprise. Seo Yakrin was rocking back and forth in the hallway, dressed in a restraint suit. She was banging her head against the wall. The gag over her mouth and the suit looked so uncomfortable that he unconsciously moved to free her, but Hyunmook stopped him.

“Seo Yakrin has anger management issues. It’s better not to get too close. Right? She has trouble controlling her temper and is prone to violent outbursts.”

“That’s… true, but…”

Hyunmook’s words sounded reasonable, but something didn’t sit right. Then he pointed at Ju Hoyoung and Yoon Seungryong.

Ju Hoyoung looked like he was about to bury his face in his gaming console, fully absorbed, while Yoon Seungryong lay on the floor without moving an inch.

“Yoon Seungryong suffers from severe laziness, and Ju Hoyoung is a serious gaming addict.”

It was true. Every word Hyunmook said was accurate. Not a single part was wrong. And yet… and yet… Suddenly, a question rose in Yohan’s mind, and he turned to look at Hyunmook. The man wore a perfect, picturesque smile.

“Then what about you, Lee Hyunmook?”

“Me?”

“You, too. You told me before, remember?”

But Hyunmook didn’t answer. He simply kept smiling and gently tugged Yohan along.

“Come now, let’s walk a bit. Walking is good for your health.”

Something’s not right… Yohan rubbed around his lower back again. For some reason, he kept feeling something catching, something pulling. As they walked around the pristine white hospital, Hyunmook said,

“Yang Yohan-ssi, you made it back from the abyss in one piece, so you need to focus on your corruption treatment. That way, you can return to your family.”

“Corruption treatment? But… corruption can’t be treated. Except by purification…”

Yohan answered, confused. Hyunmook turned to him, his voice still kind but now firm, leaving no room for argument.

“Yang Yohan-ssi. The first step to healing is accepting that you’re corrupted. There is no other way.”

“But that’s not true. Purification works…”

“I don’t know what this ‘purification’ is, but what you need to do now is take your morning medicine. Come on, let’s go. We’re already running late.”

For some reason, Hyunmook looked slightly irritated, and Yohan shrank back. Even so, as he was being led away, he said firmly,

“I’m not corrupted.”

“Yang Yohan-ssi, what are you saying? That’s impossible.”

Yohan came to a halt and stared straight at him. Hyunmook smiled back, but his eyes were cold and unnaturally glossy. Yohan’s brow furrowed, and the corners of his eyebrows drooped in frustration as he spoke in a trembling voice.

“Hyunmook hyung, your tone’s been weird since earlier…”

“You’re imagining things, Yang Yohan-ssi.”

“You keep calling me Yang Yohan-ssi… It hurts. Why won’t you call me like you used to? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“……”

“…Hyunmook hyung?”

“I’m sorry, Yohan-ah. It’s because we’re doctor and patient now. We agreed to keep things professional here, didn’t we? Don’t you remember?”

“…I think I do.”

Hearing the familiar tone finally eased Yohan’s nerves a bit. He started walking again, following Hyunmook’s lead. Up ahead, a door labeled Treatment Room came into view. It was the brightest, most blindingly white place in the hospital. Yohan followed quietly, then suddenly stopped again.

“Yohan-ah?”

“…What’s my nickname?”

“Yohan-ah? Let’s take your medicine first. I’ll call you by your nickname afterward.”

“What’s my nickname?”

When those empty, lifeless eyes stared back at him, Yohan shook off the hand gripping his wrist and stepped back. Tilting his head, Hyunmook chuckled and said,

“Han-i?” (-i (이), common affectionate suffix in Korean nicknames)

Yohan laughed, but it was hollow. He reached out a hand, then stopped mid-motion and glared sharply.

“Han-i? Hyunmook hyung always called me Yangyang!”

“Yang Yohan!”

The voice calling him from behind sounded completely unfamiliar now. Glancing over his shoulder, Yohan saw that the doctor’s face had changed. It was no longer Lee Hyunmook. It was Lee Chanha. Why did I think that was Hyunmook? A shiver ran down his spine as he broke into a run. As he stumbled in confusion, he felt something tugging again at his waist and instinctively ran in that direction.

“Huff, huff! What is this place…?”

His head was still foggy, memories refusing to take shape, but one thing was certain, something was very wrong. He didn’t belong in a place like this. Somewhere so pristine and clean just didn’t make sense. Because….because…

This is the Abyss!

That sudden realization set off a flood of memories.

“That’s right. I’m… a purifier!”

Panting, Yohan stopped and turned to look behind him. Lee Chanha was right there, smiling with that clean and beautiful face. His head tilted to the side.

“Yang Yohan-ssi, come here. I’ll make you happy. You’ll feel peace. Just accept it. All you have to do is love the pain.”

“Get away from me!”

Yohan screamed, grasping at another memory. He’d experienced something like this before. That time in the jungle, yes, the hallucinations from the corrupted flower’s pollen! Acting on instinct, Yohan released the purifying power that had now become second nature.

Lee Chanha flinched mid-step. Seeing the radiant light bursting from Yohan, his eyes widened. But Yohan wasn’t even focused on him. As the light touched the walls and tiles of the sterile white hospital, they crumbled and melted away, revealing grotesque forms beneath. A shriek tore through the air.

■g…■■■aaaah!

A violent wave of dizziness struck Yohan, and he collapsed on the spot. The world spun, melted, tangled, and twisted around him. Eyes shut tight, he barely managed to crack them open again. The hospital was gone. The migraine was even worse now, and as he groaned in pain, a strange voice echoed around him. Maybe in his ears, maybe in his mind.

What did you just do? Try it again… just once more. Please, Yang Yohan-ssi. Just once. You can do that, right?

“Who… who are you?!”

Yohan cried out in alarm, but the strange voice was gone. His heart pounded wildly. He was certain now, it had been Lee Chanha’s voice. Just then, as he was still fumbling, feeling that strange tug at his waist again–

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

A voice called out. He looked up to see a woman staring at him with concern. Yohan staggered to his feet. The pristine, impossibly white hospital was gone. He was standing in a subway station.