A half-empty bottle of whiskey and three untouched glasses sat on the table, bearing witness to a silence that felt deeper than words.
Tonight, it wasn't the alcohol that left them unsteady.
It was the things unspoken.
Noah traced the rim of his glass, the amber liquor catching the dim gleam of overhead light.
A dry chuckle escaped him as he glanced toward Daniel and Celeste.
"You two really can't lie to save your lives. How the hell did this not leak?"
The whiskey shimmered softly as he spoke.
Daniel didn't respond right away.
Instead, he brought his glass to his lips, his gaze lingering somewhere far off, as though the bottom of the drink held pieces of a past he hadn't yet made peace with.
He took a slow sip, then lowered his glass with quiet finality.
"…That's why it's all falling apart now."
His voice was subdued, touched with something between regret and release—like a confession spoken after years of silence.
Noah gave a half-smile and leaned back.
"There's still one thing I don't get."
The room stilled. Both Celeste and Daniel looked at him.
"I mean, we're practically living in a sci-fi drama—past lives, superpowers, all that nonsense. And you're both cool with that stuff, but suddenly you're losing your minds over the fact that you shared a bed and couldn't keep it in your pants? Seriously, that's the part that needs therapy? Am I the only one thinking straight? "
Noah tossed the words with his usual irreverence, but beneath the humor, a blade gleamed—quiet, precise, and impossible to ignore.
Daniel blinked, then turned to Celeste—disbelief flickering in his eyes.
"…Wait. He knows about the past lives too?"
Celeste exhaled and rubbed a hand down her face, her silence louder than words.
Noah set his glass down gently and continued, his voice steady.
"So what exactly are we worried about here? Incest? You guys are not even blood-related. Infidelity? No one here's married."
His tone was cool, matter-of-fact.
"It's not even a crime. It's just… complicated."
For a beat, neither Daniel nor Celeste spoke. The weight of Noah's words seemed to hover, hitting truths they hadn't wanted to name.
Then Noah lifted his drink again, this time more quietly.
"Look, I've been to the edge. I know what it's like to almost lose everything."
He took a sip and swallowed slowly.
"After that, tiptoeing around emotions? guilt? just noise."
He placed his glass back on the table with a soft clink.
"You love someone? That's not something to be ashamed of. It's the one thing that actually means anything."
And for a moment, that felt like the end of it.
But then he added, quieter:
"…Don't worry. I'll keep my mouth shut."
He paused, lips twitching into his usual crooked smirk.
"But tell me you guys aren't seriously betting on Jinwoo never finding out. 'Cause if you are…"
He raised a brow, a smirk creeping in.
"That's kinda adorable."
And with that, the conversation slipped into stillness once more.
Only the sound of the AC and the blinking cursor on the screen remained.
The night pressed in around them—quiet, weightless—like the breath between one chapter and the next.