After the agency staff left, the apartment felt strangely loud.
Not because of noise.
Because of relief.
Ha-rin stayed on the sofa, staring at the door like it might knock again out of spite.
"…They're really gone," she said.
"Yes," I replied.
"…You're sure?"
"I watched them leave."
She exhaled hard and leaned back.
"Oh my god," she muttered. "I think my soul left my body and just came back."
I nodded. "That is consistent with your posture."
She shot me a weak glare. "Don't analyze me."
"I am not. I am observing."
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then her stomach growled.
It was very quiet.
But it was unmistakable.
Her eyes flew open.
"That wasn't—" she started.
"It was," I said.
"…Say it again and I'll kill you."
"I will refrain."
She sat up slowly. "I haven't eaten since yesterday."
"That explains your irritability."
She pointed at me. "I am always irritable."
"Yes."
I walked into the kitchen.
Behind me, she muttered, "…Why does he agree with everything like that?"
I cooked something simple.
Rice. Soup. Side dishes I could prepare without thinking.
Routine helped.
While I worked, my mind replayed the agency visit frame by frame.
Did my voice change?Did I blink too much?Why did I say 'that is unfortunate' out loud?
My hands were steady.
My thoughts were not.
"Seo-jun."
I paused. "Yes?"
"…You don't regret letting me stay here, right?"
The question landed quietly.
I turned off the stove.
"No," I said.
She didn't respond immediately.
"…You didn't even think about it," she said.
"I did."
"Then?"
"I reached the same conclusion."
She frowned. "That's annoying."
"I am aware."
We ate at the table.
Not across from each other this time.
Side by side.
She poked at the food cautiously, then took a bite.
"…It's good," she said.
"Thank you."
She hesitated, then added quickly, "Not that I'm praising you or anything."
"Understood."
She glanced at me. "You're really bad at reacting."
"I am reacting internally."
She watched me for a second.
"…Do you ever get tired of being like this?"
The question surprised me.
"Yes," I answered honestly.
She blinked. "You do?"
"Yes."
"Then why don't you change?"
I thought about that.
Because changing meant uncertainty.And uncertainty meant losing control.
"I am working on it," I said.
She looked away.
"…Good," she muttered.
Later, she curled up on the sofa with a blanket.
"This is temporary," she said suddenly.
"Yes."
"We're not… doing anything weird."
"No."
"And when things settle, I'll leave."
"Yes."
She paused.
"…You don't sound very convincing."
"I am agreeing."
"That's the problem."
I said nothing.
After a moment, she shifted slightly closer.
Not touching.
Just closer.
"…If my manager comes again," she said, "you'll stand there like today?"
"Yes."
"…Even if it's troublesome?"
"Yes."
She sighed.
"…You're really unfair."
"I am uncertain how."
"You make it hard to hate you."
I froze.
Internally.
Externally, I took a sip of water.
"That would be inefficient," I said.
She groaned and buried her face in the blanket.
"Ugh. Stop saying things like that."
"Like what?"
"Reasonable things!"
She peeked at me.
"…Get some rest too."
"I am fine."
"You didn't sleep."
I opened my mouth.
She cut me off.
"Don't lie. Your eyes look tired."
I closed my mouth.
"…I will rest," I said.
She nodded, satisfied.
As I turned toward my room, I felt it again—
That unfamiliar weight.
Responsibility.
Attachment.
Something dangerous.
Behind me, she spoke softly.
"…Hey, Seo-jun."
"Yes?"
"…Thanks. For today."
I didn't turn around.
But my voice was steady when I replied.
"You're welcome."
Internally, my heart was not steady at all.