NIRAN'S POV.
After Min-Jun's great discovery, The room felt Quiet.
"What are you going to do Now?"
I had asked.
"I don't Know I am trying to figure it Out this is getting dark" He had said his voice soft.
Oh I wish I Will still hear that tone from him When I tell him something.
The Book, That same book that Ara had found in the room Seo-Yeon stayed when she was staying in this house I have hid it... Safely.
Not because I wanted to.
But because it was a clue and If He had seen it, that meant one wish down and one wish closer to me disappearing... But i don't want to go.
I finally have someone who understands me.. someone I feel comfortable with.
Someone who lets me take care of them.
And It's Him and am about to lose him because I've told him about the book immediately after the discovery.
And he was pissed he went out of the room and am waiting now.
The room feels too quiet.
Not peaceful quiet.
Not normal quiet.
The kind of quiet that comes after something important has already been decided without you.
I'm standing near the desk, arms at my sides now, notebook still in hand.
I shouldn't have kept it.
I know that.
But I also know why I did.
The thought presses harder the longer I stand there.
Min-Jun reading this… he wouldn't stop at the surface.
He never does.
He connects things too fast.
Too clean.
Too sharp.
And once he connects them—
he leaves.
That's what this is really about.
Not the book.
Not the mirror.
Him leaving.
The air shifts behind me.
I don't need to turn to know.
It's him.
Min-Jun.
The door didn't even fully close right behind him before I feel it.
His presence is always like that—like pressure in a room that suddenly decides it has weight.
"…you hid it."
His voice is low.
Not asking.
I don't answer immediately.
My fingers tighten slightly around the notebook.
That delay is enough.
I hear him step closer.
Slow.
Measured.
Not calm.
Controlled anger.
"…Niran."
That tone.
He's close now.
Too close.
I still don't turn.
"…say something."
Silence stretches.
I swallow it down.
"…you weren't supposed to see it yet."
That's all I manage.
My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
Which is almost worse.
A breath behind me.
Sharp.
"…not supposed to see it?"
His voice cracks just slightly on the edge of frustration.
"That's your explanation?"
I finally turn.
And the moment I see him—
I already know this is going badly.
His eyes are fixed on me.
Not confused.
Not curious.
Focused.
Like I'm something he's about to break open.
I lift the notebook slightly.
"…this would've made me leave."
"I know it would've," I admit quietly.
That lands heavier than I want it to.
His jaw tightens.
"…so you decided for me?"
"No."
A pause.
My grip tightens.
"…I decided to delay it."
"That's the same thing."
"It's not."
"It is when it's my choice."
The silence after that is sharper.
I feel it in my chest like a pull.
Min-Jun steps closer again.
And I should step back.
I don't.
"…you don't get to control what I know," he says.
"I wasn't trying to control you."
"Then what were you doing?"
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
And that second is enough for him to see it.
His eyes narrow.
"…you were scared I'd leave."
The words hit too directly.
I don't respond fast enough.
That's all the answer he needs.
His expression shifts.
Not softer.
Worse.
Angrier.
"…so you lied to me."
"No."
My voice rises slightly now.
"I didn't lie."
"You hid it."
"I protected you."
That word slips out before I can stop it.
And immediately—
I regret it.
Min-Jun laughs once.
Short.
Dry.
Not amused.
"…protected me?"
He steps closer again.
Now there's barely space between us.
"You think I need protection from the truth?"
I don't answer.
Because I don't.
I know him.
I know he doesn't like being kept in the dark.
But I also know—
what happens when he sees everything at once.
His hand lifts.
Grabs the edge of the notebook in my grip.
Not forcefully.
But firmly.
"…give it."
I don't let go immediately.
Not because I want to fight.
Because I can't.
Something inside me tightens.
"…Min-Jun…"
His eyes flick up.
"…give it to me."
My fingers loosen.
The notebook slips into his hand.
And the moment it leaves me—
something in my chest drops.
Like a thread snapping.
He opens it immediately.
No hesitation.
Pages flipping fast.
I watch his face.
I don't want to.
But I do.
And I already know where this is going.
His expression changes.
First confusion.
Then focus.
Then—
stillness.
That dangerous kind.
The kind right before understanding becomes certainty.
He stops on a page.
Reads.
Longer than before.
Then slower.
And then—
his voice drops.
"…I would've left."
Not a question.
A fact.
I don't answer.
I can't.
He looks up at me.
And something in his eyes shifts.
Not just anger now.
Something heavier.
"…you decided that for me."
"No," I say again, quieter this time. "I decided to give you time."
"Time for what?"
My mouth opens.
Closes.
I don't have a clean answer.
That's the problem.
His grip tightens on the notebook.
"…you think I'm going to disappear if I know the truth."
"I think you'll walk into it too fast."
"I always do."
"I know."
That comes out softer than I meant.
And that softness is what breaks it.
His anger spikes again.
But underneath it—
something else.
"…so I don't get a choice?"
"You do."
"When?"
"When you're ready."
He stares at me.
Long.
Hard.
Then his voice lowers.
"…you don't get to decide when I'm ready."
Silence.
And I feel it then.
Not just tension.
But distance forming.
Slow.
Real.
My chest tightens.
"…Min-Jun."
His eyes flicker.
Just slightly.
Not fully meeting mine anymore.
"…you were going to leave," I say quietly. "If you saw it."
"That's not your decision."
"It was mine to keep you here."
That lands wrong immediately.
I see it in his face.
His expression hardens again.
"…you kept me here?"
"No—"
But he doesn't let me finish.
"…you kept me blind."
The words hit sharper than anything else.
Silence.
He steps back slightly.
Just one step.
But it feels like more.
My fingers twitch at my side.
Something inside me starts to feel unstable.
Not emotionally.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
The edges of me… flicker.
Just for a second.
I steady myself.
Min-Jun doesn't notice at first.
Or maybe he does.
But he's too focused on the notebook.
"…you should've told me."
His voice is quieter now.
Not calm.
Just tired.
I nod once.
Slow.
"…I know."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
And I realize something then.
This isn't just about the book anymore.
It's about trust.
And what it costs.
His grip loosens slightly.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Just exhaustion.
"…I need to read it again."
I don't stop him.
I can't.
But as he turns back to the page—
I feel it again.
That flicker.
Stronger this time.
A glitch at the edge of me.
Like something in the rules is tightening.
Punishing.
Because I interfered too much.
Because I held on too long.
Min-Jun notices now.
He pauses.
Looks up slightly.
"…what's wrong with you?"
I try to answer.
But my voice breaks halfway.
The room tilts for just a second.
Not physically.
But in presence.
Like I'm becoming less stable in it.
Less allowed.
"I'm fine," I manage.
But it doesn't sound fine.
Not even close.
Min-Jun's expression shifts again.
Confusion now.
Mixed with something else.
Concern.
Anger still there—but buried.
"…you're shaking."
"I'm not."
But I am.
The edges of my vision flicker again.
Harder this time.
And I know.
This is what happens when ghosts break the boundary too much.
When we interfere too directly.
When we attach too strongly.
And I did.
I attached to him.
Min-Jun takes a step forward.
"…Niran."
My name sounds different in his voice now.
Less sharp.
More uncertain.
I try to focus on him.
Only him.
"…don't look at me like that," I say quietly.
"Like what?"
"…like I'm going to disappear."
He doesn't answer.
But he doesn't look away either.
And that hurts more than the argument.
The flicker comes again.
Longer.
My form stutters at the edges.
I press a hand against my chest without thinking.
Like I can hold myself together physically.
It doesn't help.
Min-Jun steps closer again.
But slower now.
Less anger.
More fear.
"…you're not—"
He stops.
Can't finish it.
I give a small breath that almost feels like a laugh.
"…I told you I shouldn't stay too long."
Silence.
He looks down at the notebook.
Then back at me.
Then something in his expression changes completely.
Not anger.
Not confusion.
Understanding.
Too late.
"…you hid it because of me," he says quietly.
I don't deny it.
And that's when the silence between us becomes heavier than anything before it.
Because now he knows.
And I'm starting to fade because of it.