Remorse

Seung stirred awake, his vision slowly adjusting to the sterile white walls surrounding him. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, a stark reminder of his disoriented state. As his mind began to clear, the realization hit him like a blow—he had passed out from sheer shock.

A dull ache pulsed from the back of his head, the spot where he had struck during the fall. He winced, his fingers brushing over the bandage with a touch that was both tender and tentative. The room gradually sharpened into focus, revealing a figure seated by his bedside.

Kim Eunji. Of all people, she was the last person he expected to see here.

She sat with her usual rigid posture, an image of unyielding formality. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of cold calculation that made her intentions difficult to discern. As Seung stirred, her eyes flicked toward him, but her demeanor remained unchanged.