*After healing the demons afflicted by the Gray Disease, Cale thought he had recovered—but the truth was, he was still sick. Once he finished tending to them, he temporarily’s base. He was ready to plan his next move, but the group stopped him from leaving. He protested, “I’m feeling better now. I’ll improve with time.”
Ron, standing beside him, gave a cold smile and said, “Young master, you’re worrying this old man. You need rest. The Demon Realm can wait a little longer.”
Cale shivered at Ron’s icy tone, thinking, *This old man is scarier than the Demon King himself.*
With no other option, he lay down, and Ron gently covered him. He then looked to On, who nodded in understanding and ushered Raon and Hong out of the room to let Cale sleep in peace. Ron left only after confirming the young master had fallen asleep—he planned to fetch a wet towel, since Cale was still feverish and his breathing uneven. Cale finally drifted off, more out of fear of Ron than exhaustion.**
🩹 *Silence filled the room… until a sudden, sharp pain pierced Cale’s knee.*
His eyes remained closed as he groaned, “Why does my knee hurt? It feels cursed.”
Just then, a delicate voice echoed, both sharp and gentle: “Rok Soo… are you cursed now?”
Startled, Cale opened his eyes to find blood trickling from his knee—and his body… smaller than expected. But what truly shocked him was the voice.
That voice was nostalgic. Familiar. Ancient. A sound etched in his soul.
He turned his head instinctively—and there she was. A woman in her early thirties walked toward him serenely, her hair in a perfect bun, not a strand out of place. Her gaze was both warm and piercing.
Cale’s lips trembled, unable to speak. Overwhelmed by emotion, he forgot the pain entirely and bolted toward her with yearning.
*I didn’t expect to see her… not even in a dream. But even if this is a dream, it doesn’t matter. Just one minute... Yes, if I can just reach her for one minute—*
He couldn’t finish the thought. He tripped, nearly falling face-first. The woman’s expression turned to shock, and she rushed to him.
*Damn it... my body fails me even in dreams.*
Before he could hit the ground, a strong hand grabbed him and lifted him.
He stared at the man who’d caught him—and froze again.
It was a face he hadn’t seen in over thirty years. Radiant. Alive. A man in his early thirties, glowing with vitality.
The woman sighed and slowed her pace, approaching them softly.
She came closer—not to Cale, but to Rok Soo—and pulled out an embroidered handkerchief.
“Rok Soo… my child. Why were you running so recklessly? Are you cursed now?”
Tears welled in Cale’s eyes—no, in little Rok Soo’s eyes. Because he heard her voice again.
Her whisper, calling his name.
These two were Rok Soo’s parents: Kim Ha Yoon and Choi Son Hwa.
🌧️ *Rok Soo had always tried not to think about them. He didn’t need a record to remember—everything about them was carved into his heart.*
He couldn’t forget… but he couldn’t recall without pain either.
Every memory stabbed like needles and blades.
Then his mother spoke again:
“Rok Soo… why aren’t you answering? Are you alright? Oh my god… when did you hurt your knee?”
His father gently patted his head and said playfully, “Calm down, darling. Don’t scare Rok Soo. He’s strong, see? He’s not even crying. We’ll patch him up now.”
Rok Soo replied, “Yes, Mom. I’m fine. It’s just a small wound.”
His mother narrowed her eyes and grabbed her husband’s ear.
“Small wound? What are you teaching our child? He’s just a kid. He *should* complain. He *should* cry. He *should* scream and express his pain!”
Ha Yoon winced, set Rok Soo down gently, and apologized.
“You’re right, dear. I didn’t realize how my words might affect him.”
Then he turned to Rok Soo and said, “Forget what I said. If it hurts, tell us.” He began treating the wound.
But Cale’s thoughts were elsewhere.
*This is just a small wound… compared to using Moment of Death. Compared to shattering my plate. This pain is nothing. Why are they overreacting?*
Still, he smiled and said, “I’m fine. It’s just a small injury.”
*(Yes… even in a dream, I don’t want to worry them. I want to see their smiles… before I wake up. Before they disappear like all fleeting dreams.)*
His mother looked at him in disbelief, held his face gently, and whispered:
“Rok Soo… my child. Why do you say that?
You shouldn’t bottle up your emotions. That breaks your mother’s heart.”
“If you’re hurting—cry. Complain. Scream. Come to us, my child. Don’t run.
We’ll be the ones to run to you.
Then Cale felt his father’s hand stroke his head again:
“My child… we’re your parents. Your family. Your home.
We’ll never get angry, never grow tired of hearing you cry.
We’re here for you. Tell us the truth… are you hurting?”
💔 He felt pain—not from the wound, but deep in his soul. His heart twisted, his spirit tore apart.
How long had it been since he heard those words?
Since he felt the warmth of their touch?
Yes—they had been kind. Loving. Perfect parents.
Warm tears streamed down his cheeks.
He looked at his mother, collapsed into her arms, and sobbed—
“Mom… it hurts. Dad… it hurts.
It hurts so much… I can’t bear it.”
They embraced him gently.
We’re here… with you and for you.”
Even if it was just a dream…
🌙 *Meanwhile, Ron had returned with a wet towel.
He gently touched Cale’s forehead—but felt something warm trickle onto his hand.*
He first assumed it was sweat… but when he lifted his hand, his face paled.
Cale was crying in his sleep.
The tears rolled down, one by one, like a child’s sorrow.
Cale murmured in Korean, “Mama… Papa… it hurts…”
Though Ron didn’t understand the words, his instincts as a father told him:
Cale was calling out to his real parents.
Not the young master he served now—no, the true Rok Soo.
Helpless, Ron did the only thing he could—
He gently caressed Cale’s head and whispered,
“Young master… I’m here. I’ll do my best to help you.”
Cale’s eyelids fluttered open slowly.
He looked at Ron—not with fear or anxiety this time.
He raised his hand and wiped his tears.
“Young master… did you have a nightmare?”
I wish it lasted longer.”
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