The corridor was quiet when Joon-ho and Dong-wook approached, their footsteps softened by the polished floor. Nurses passed in quiet pairs, clipboards tucked under their arms, the antiseptic tang of disinfectant hanging faintly in the air. A patient in a wheelchair rolled slowly past, pushed by a relative, their voices hushed. For all its new glass and polished fixtures, the East Wing carried the same fragile hush that lingered over every hospital: the air heavy with waiting, recovery, and silence.
But silence shattered the moment Kang Min-seok spotted him.
Joon-ho had seen his type often enough — shoulders stiffening, face darkening like a storm front, eyes narrowing as recognition burned through him. For Min-seok, the sight was unbearable.
