The room had been quiet at first.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels wrong in a hospital.
Mr. Yoo-Joon stirred in the chair beside Ji-Ho's bed, blinking slowly as he woke up from a shallow sleep.
His body was stiff, his mind still half-caught in exhaustion.
Then he remembered—
Ji-Ho's medicine.
His eyes snapped fully open.
He looked toward the bed immediately.
"…Ji-Ho?"
No response.
Ji-Ho was lying still.
Too still.
Mr. Yoo-Joon stood up instantly, heart tightening.
"Ji-Ho," he said again, louder this time.
He moved closer.
"Hey… wake up."
Nothing.
The monitor beside the bed continued its steady beep—but something about it felt different now. Off. Uneven.
Mr. Yoo-Joon's hand hovered near Ji-Ho's shoulder.
"…Ji-Ho, stop joking."
Still no movement.
Panic started rising in his chest like a flood.
"Ji-Ho."
He shook him gently.
Then harder.
"Ji-Ho—wake up!"
The monitor suddenly changed tone.
A sharper, faster rhythm filled the room.
Beeping louder.
More urgent.
Mr. Yoo-Joon froze.
"No…"
His breath hitched.
He pressed the emergency button immediately and ran out of the room.
"Doctor! Please—room 304!"
Within seconds, the room filled with doctors and nurses.
Fast movement.
Quick instructions.
Gloved hands checking Ji-Ho's pulse, his neck, his breathing.
One lifted his eyelid.
Another checked oxygen levels.
Another adjusted machines urgently.
Mr. Yoo-Joon stood frozen near the door.
Watching.
Not blinking.
Not moving.
Just staring at Ji-Ho like if he looked hard enough, he could force him to come back.
The doctor spoke quickly to the team.
"Possible internal bleeding… check vitals—now."
Machines beeped louder.
Faster.
The sound filled the room like pressure building inside glass.
Mr. Yoo-Joon's mind started spinning.
Ji-Ho's voice echoed in his memory.
I've accepted everything.
I'm leaving anyway.
I'm tired.
His hands clenched.
"No," he whispered to himself.
"No… no, no, no…"
He shook his head slightly, stepping forward a little.
"He's not done," he said under his breath. "He can't be done."
But the monitor kept screaming.
The doctor stepped back slightly.
His expression tightened.
Then—
a pause.
A long one.
The kind that drains all hope out of a room at once.
The doctor exhaled slowly.
"…Time of death—"
Mr. Yoo-Joon's body went cold instantly.
"No," he said sharply, stepping forward. "No—check again."
The doctor looked at him, conflicted.
But the monitor did not change.
The beeping had already flattened.
Continuous.
Empty.
Mr. Yoo-Joon staggered back slightly like the air had been pulled from his lungs.
He turned slowly.
Walked back to Ji-Ho.
Every step heavier than the last.
Ji-Ho's face looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Like he had simply… drifted too far to return.
Mr. Yoo-Joon sat beside him slowly.
His hands trembled as he reached out.
Then finally held Ji-Ho's hand.
"…I'm sorry," he whispered.
His voice cracked instantly.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."
His head lowered.
His shoulders shook.
"I should've done more… I should've known earlier… I should've—"
His breath broke completely.
Tears fell freely now.
"I'm sorry."
The words repeated again and again, quieter each time.
Like they no longer had anywhere to go.
The door opened again.
Mrs. Posh stepped in.
She saw the scene immediately.
And froze.
For one second.
Just one.
Then everything in her collapsed at once.
"No…"
Her bag dropped to the floor.
She rushed forward, hands shaking as she reached the bed.
"Ji-Ho…?"
No response.
Her knees gave out instantly.
She fell beside the bed.
Covering her mouth as she broke down completely.
"No, no, no… please…"
She reached for his hand, holding it tightly.
As if warmth alone could pull him back.
Mr. Yoo-Joon instinctively leaned toward her, and she collapsed into him, both of them holding each other while crying—trying to survive the same moment neither of them could accept.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "It's my fault… I wasn't there…"
Mrs. Posh shook her head violently, still crying.
"No… don't say that…"
But neither of them could stop.
The door opened again.
Mr. Park stepped in first.
He stopped instantly.
His entire body went still.
"…Ji-Ho?"
His voice was barely there.
Behind him—
Hoseok appeared.
Then Mrs. Park.
All of them.
One by one.
Each one freezing at the same sight.
Mr. Park's face slowly broke.
Like something inside him cracked open without warning.
"…No," he whispered.
Hoseok's breath hitched immediately.
"Hyung…"
Mrs. Park stepped forward slowly.
Then stopped halfway.
Her hands shaking.
Her lips trembling.
And then—
everything in her collapsed too.
Her knees hit the floor.
"I… I didn't mean it," she whispered. "I didn't mean what I said… I didn't…"
Her voice broke completely.
Tears fell as she looked at him.
"I didn't know…"
But Ji-Ho didn't respond.
Didn't move.
Didn't wake up.
Mr. Park stood frozen, staring at his son like reality itself refused to make sense anymore.
"…My son," he whispered.
Hoseok stepped back slightly, covering his mouth as he cried silently.
The room was no longer just grief.
It was collapse.
Entire lives breaking at once in a single silent room.
And the only sound left—
was the long, empty tone of a monitor that no longer meant hope.
The hospital corridor felt colder after it was over.
Not physically—but in the way people moved through it now.
Slower.
Heavier.
Like even the air had learned what had happened.
Mr. Yoo-Joon stood near the wall outside Ji-Ho's room, still not moving much. His hands were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.
Mrs. Park was still crying.
Not loudly anymore—just broken, uneven breaths, like her body had run out of ways to express guilt.
"I didn't know…" she kept whispering. "I didn't know it would end like this…"
But Mr. Yoo-Joon finally turned toward her.
And when he spoke, his voice was low.
Cold.
Controlled.
"I know exactly what you did."
That made her freeze.
He stepped forward slightly.
"You think I forgot?" he said quietly. "The house. My mother. My brother. All of it."
Mrs. Park shook her head quickly, tears falling harder.
"I was wrong—"
"You forced us out," he cut in sharply. "My mother raised me alone after that. And she died carrying all of it."
Silence.
Mr. Yoo-Joon's voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"That was her end," he said. "And now Ji-Ho too."
Mrs. Park's hands trembled.
"I didn't mean—"
"You don't get to say that anymore," he replied flatly.
She broke down fully, covering her face.
Mrs. Posh stood nearby, crying silently now, unable to interrupt, unable to fix anything.
Mr. Park stepped forward slowly, shaking.
"…Yoo-Joon," he said, voice breaking. "Is that you?"
Yoo-Joon turned to him.
Looked at him for a long moment.
Then shook his head slightly.
"…Not anymore."
That hit harder than anything else.
Mr. Park froze.
"…My son…"
Yoo-Joon exhaled.
Tired.
Empty.
"I don't want to see any of you again," he said quietly. "Leave."
No shouting.
No anger left.
Just finality.
Mrs. Park collapsed into sobs again.
Mr. Park stood there for a second longer—
then slowly lowered his head.
And they left.
One by one.
Without another word.
The hallway felt even quieter after.
Mrs. Posh finally stepped closer to Yoo-Joon.
Her voice was soft.
"…It's okay," she said gently.
But she was crying too.
He didn't answer immediately.
Just stood there.
Staring at the empty space where they had taken Ji-Ho away.
Then his shoulders shook.
And for the first time—
he cried without trying to hold it back.
Mrs. Posh immediately stepped in and hugged him.
And he didn't resist.
Just leaned into it, trembling.
"I should've protected him," he whispered brokenly. "I should've done more…"
"It's not just you," she said softly, holding him tighter. "You stayed. That matters."
But it didn't feel like enough.
Nothing did.
Sometime later.
The room was quieter.
Too quiet again.
Mr. Yoo-Joon and Mrs. Posh stood in front of Ji-Ho's urn.
White.
Simple.
A framed photo rested beside it.
Ji-Ho smiling faintly in the hospital bed.
The last time.
Before everything changed.
Mr. Yoo-Joon slowly placed a hand on the glass.
His fingers trembling.
"…Hey," he whispered.
No answer, of course.
Mrs. Posh placed flowers beside the urn carefully.
Her voice was barely audible.
"…We should tell everyone," she said softly. "They deserve to know."
Mr. Yoo-Joon nodded slowly.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
Then his eyes shifted slightly.
"…Ji-Bok," he murmured. "And Ji-Woo."
Mrs. Posh looked at him.
"They came to see him," he added quietly. "Ji-Bok… he actually cared."
His voice cracked slightly on that word.
"Cared."
Mrs. Posh nodded gently.
"…They'll react," she said. "All of them will."
A long silence followed.
Then she asked softly,
"…Are you going to stay here?"
Yoo-Joon didn't answer immediately.
Just looked at the urn.
Looked at the photo.
Looked at what was left.
"…I don't have anyone left," he said quietly.
Mrs. Posh stepped closer.
"If you need help," she said gently, "you can come to me."
He didn't look away from Ji-Ho.
But he nodded slightly.
"…Thank you."
A pause.
Then he whispered again, barely audible—
"…Ji-Ho…"
His voice broke.
"…thank you."
And the room stayed still.
Not peaceful.
Not healed.
Just holding the weight of someone who was gone too soon.