The rice wine was doing its work, blurring the sharp edges of Rinwoo's pain and weaving a soft, hazy fog through his mind. He took another swig, the liquid warmth spreading through his chest, a poor substitute for the peace he craved. He barely noticed the figure watching him from the deep shadows at the far end of the yard.
Taekyun stood transfixed, his own suffering eclipsed by the poignant beauty of the scene. Overwhelmed, he leaned back to steady himself against the shrine wall, but his coordination failed him. His foot slipped on a loose stone, and he stumbled forward with a sharp, involuntary grunt and the scuff of a shoe on gravel.
The sound was small, but in the utter silence of the mountain night, it was as loud as a gunshot to Rinwoo's alcohol-heightened senses.
