A month had passed since that night—one I had tried not to think about. Yet here you were again, standing before me, unaware of the storm I felt rising inside. You smiled, spoke casually, but my focus had already shifted. You don't know who I am because I erased your memories of our night of love. Something was different, something stirring beneath the surface.

My senses sharpened, more intense than usual. I could feel it—the faint but undeniable presence radiating from you. My eyes narrowed, and I knew. I saw it. The golden glow flickered in my vision as I focused on you with more intent - you don't realize.

A life. Inside you.

Half-gumiho.

I could barely control the flood of emotions that hit me. A child. My child. A part of me, like the side of myself I had always kept hidden. The same curse, the same power, the same loneliness I had carried for so long. You had no idea. How could you? You kept speaking, completely unaware of the secret you carried within.

My first instinct was to protect. But along with it came doubt. Did I have the right to be involved? To pull you and that child into the chaotic world I lived in? My heart hardened, but something else flickered—hope, fear. I was torn between staying distant, like I always had, or protecting what was mine.

You looked at me, your brow furrowing in confusion as I grew silent, the weight of the truth hanging heavy between us. I stood there, knowing that I had to decide—walk away and keep my secret, or confront the reality of what happened that night.