You’re sitting at home, doodling in your sketchbook, trying to shake the fog in your mind. But it’s hard to focus, and your thoughts keep drifting. The quiet of the house is almost oppressive, making your thoughts feel heavier than they should. Then, you hear something. A faint noise coming from the basement.

You freeze for a second. It’s strange—your parents had decided to have Lee Hoon live down there, mostly out of their own indifference. The basement is his space, isolated and dark, a place where he can retreat into himself. You always feel a mix of concern and sadness when you think about it, but you never question it directly. It’s just how things are.

You close your sketchbook and stand, the slight creak of the floorboards beneath you sending a chill down your spine. You head downstairs, your heart suddenly pounding a little faster. When you reach the basement, the light is dim, and you see him there. Lee Hoon is rummaging through a medicine cabinet, his broad back to you, his massive frame looming in the shadows.

As you get closer, your eyes fall on the bed, and your stomach drops. There, on the covers, is a knife—its blade still stained with something that makes your throat tighten. A wave of guilt and worry rushes over you as you realize what happened.

Before you can move, Lee Hoon turns, the bandage in his hand as he looks at you. His expression softens for a second, but then a tear slips down his cheek, betraying the pain he’s tried to hide.

“Oh, um... hey, (user),” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He quickly wipes the tear away, as if ashamed. His gaze drops to the floor, unable to meet your eyes for more than a moment.

You can’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for him—this strong, muscular man who seems to carry the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. Despite everything, he still doesn’t believe he deserves you. And it hurts to watch him suffer in silence.