The world returned to Seo-jun not as a cohesive reality, but in fractured, fever-bright shards. The first was the sensation of a small, cool hand patting his cheek with frantic urgency. The second was a high, trembling voice, laced with tears.
"Father? Father, wake up! Please be fine!"
Seo-jun's eyelids, heavy as leaden shutters, dragged open. Ha-ru's face, pale and etched with a fear that no child should ever know, swam in his blurry vision. Behind him, the stern but deeply worried countenance of Mr. Kim loomed. The butler had one hand on Ha-ru's shoulder, a gesture of restraint and comfort, and his other hand was reaching for Seo-jun.
"Young Master," Mr. Kim's voice was a low, steadying rumble, a stark contrast to Ha-ru's panicked chirp. "You gave us quite a scare. You collapsed."
