The revelation hit Myeong-i like a physical blow. His vision blurred slightly at the edges. His heart rate skyrocketed, and suddenly, his lungs refused to cooperate. He gasped, a sharp, desperate sound in the quiet alleyway. He tried to draw in air, but his chest felt as though it were bound in iron chains. He was hyperventilating.

Sun-ho’s gaze was intense, scanning Myeong-i’s face as if trying to memorize every detail that had changed over the last decade. "You still do that," Sun-ho said quietly. "Do what?" "Breathe like that. Like you’re running out of time."