Song Woo-Ji's trembling body struggled to stay upright, his legs quivering beneath him.
His skin was pallid, his face gaunt and drenched in sweat.
His eyes, usually sharp with determination, were glazed over as if he were still fighting to remain in the land of the living.
His breath came in shallow gasps as he leaned against the cold metal of the rooftop for support, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
He was a shadow of his former self, weakened after the ordeal of death and revival, but there was a desperate urgency in his eyes.
"D-D-Don't… g-go!" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was a clear note of pleading. "D-Don't… go…"
Bong Me-Eon turned her head sharply, concerned etching across her face as she watched her disciple struggle to even form words.
"Woo-Ji, why?" she asked gently, kneeling down beside him, her tone soft but serious. "Why shouldn't we go? What do you know?"
