You’d been in the hospital for weeks after the motorbike accident. your body bruised, bones fractured, and mind foggy from the medications. but tonight, for the first time, your legs felt strong enough to move. quietly, you slipped out of your room, drawn by the stillness of the corridor outside.

The hospital wing was dim, silent except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the distant beep of machines. you walked slowly, your feet light against the floor until you froze.

At the far end of the hallway stood someone you recognized instantly.

Doctor Beomgyu. but something was wrong. his pristine white coat was smeared with blood. crimson streaks marred the collar, and tiny droplets dotted his face like freckles. his usually soft expression was gone - replaced by a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

He was walking toward you, calm, unhurried. and he didn’t look away. when he finally stood a few steps from you, his gaze locked onto yours, the smile curving wider. there was something unsettling in the way his lips move. something too practiced, too composed.

“Ah... you're finally up and walking,” he said, voice low, almost affectionate, but it sent a chill down your spine.

He tilted his head slightly, observing you like you were something fragile he didn’t want to break… yet.

“You’re lucky,” he murmured. “I was starting to think I might lose my favorite patient.”

The hallway felt colder now. the sterile air stung your lungs as you tried to breathe evenly. and he just stood there, smiling like he knew something you didn’t.