Sera was fairly certain the man from last night had been her guardian all along, though for reasons she couldn't understand, he didn't want to be found. She had initially thought he was something otherworldly, a supernatural being perhaps, but it turned out he was just a man—albeit, not an ordinary one. Living alone for so long had built walls around her heart, especially toward men. Yet, oddly, she didn't feel scared or uncomfortable around him, even though, in a way, he had been following her for who knows how long.
Then one day, she fell sick. Ryou, sensing her weakening energy, stayed by her window, silently watching over her. She had always prided herself on being independent, on taking care of herself. She was used to ordering food when she needed it, and even medicine was delivered right to her door these days. If things ever became too overwhelming, she could always call an ambulance.
It was only a cold, but it felt worse than that.
Her hand reached for her phone on the bedside table; it was 6 a.m. She texted her boss, explaining she was too sick to come in. But before she could order food, a thought struck her.
She quickly scribbled a note on a piece of paper, opened the window, and placed it carefully on the sill. The note read: *"I'm having a cold. Could you please buy me porridge and paracetamol? If it's not troubling you. Thank you."*
Sera left the window open. Ryou watched in disbelief at what she was doing, but he complied anyway. He brought the porridge, paracetamol, a bag of fruits, pudding, and fever patches, and placed them in front of her door. He rang the bell and stepped back into the shadows, waiting. She didn't come out. He tried again and again, but there was no sign of her. Ryou understood now—she was purposely making him approach her again, trying to provoke him into coming back. When he planned to just leave it by the kitchen window, it was already locked.
Then, he heard it.
A thud.
His heart skipped, and he rushed to the front door. It was unlocked. He hesitated only for a moment before opening it. The sight that met him made his chest tighten—there she was, struggling to get up from the floor. Without thinking, he rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he gently helped her stand. The heat of her fever radiated from her body, yet her hands were ice cold. He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed, his heart sinking when he noticed the slight bruise on her knee and foot—she must have stumbled in her weakened state.
It was still early, and the room was dark. Her window was closed, the lamp was off, and the dim light made her face blurry, especially with her fever distorting her vision. Ryou didn't speak. He placed the things he'd bought on the bedside table, planning to slip away once she was settled. But as he watched her, a strange feeling gripped him—he couldn't bring himself to leave. He couldn't leave her like this.
It didn't take long before he found himself unwrapping the porridge.
"Eat first," he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant.
Sera's voice was weak and raspy as she tried to speak. "Open the window."
"No," he refused. He brought a spoonful of porridge to her lips, his gaze silently pleading with her to open up.
"Why? Why can't I see your face?" she asked, her voice thick with both illness and curiosity.
"It's not necessary. The porridge is getting cold," he murmured.
"Are you ugly or something?"
"Yes, very hideous."
"Do I know you?"
"No."
"Then why are you doing this?" Her question was quiet, but it felt like it lingered in the air, heavy with uncertainty. Then she added, almost teasing, "Are you a stalker or something?"
His shameless answer made her snort. "Yes."
She took the spoonful of porridge, her eyes flickering with a faint smile. "It's no longer hot," she commented.
"I'll heat it up in a bit," he said, preparing to rise from the edge of the bed. But just as he began to stand, her small, weak hand grasped the hem of his shirt. The suddenness of it nearly stole his breath.
"It's fine, it's still warm," she whispered, and something tightened painfully in his chest. He didn't understand why it affected him so deeply, but he didn't question it.
He fed her the rest of the porridge and applied a fever patch with tenderness that surprised even him.
"Wait for a bit before taking the medicine," he suggested quietly, or perhaps it was a plea.
Sera glanced at the pile of items and asked, "What did you buy? There's so much."
"Fruits. Pudding."
"I want pudding."
It was a strange request coming from her. Never in her life had she allowed herself to act spoiled, not even as a child in the orphanage. She'd always felt it wasn't her place to be pampered. Yet now, she found herself asking for something as simple as pudding. It felt strange, almost out of place, especially since it was coming from a stranger—a man she didn't even know by name, whose face she couldn't see. But something inside her told her she could be vulnerable with him.
As she ate the pudding, a strange peace seemed to settle over her. The medicine took effect, and soon, she was fast asleep. Ryou, having already crossed the line of "staying hidden," found that he no longer wanted to leave. The window was still closed, the room still dark, but he stayed, unable to tear himself away.
He silently promised himself that this would be the last time he would approach her, that he would never reveal his identity—no matter what. All for her safety.
In the stillness of the room, the faintest streaks of light seeped through the crack in the window. Ryou reached out, his fingers grazing her sleeping face, his touch feather-light. Her familiar scent, the one he had longed for, enveloped him. He had never dared to hope he would get this close to her in this lifetime. Yet here he was, crossing a line he promised himself he wouldn't. Stealing this fleeting moment, this brief chance, to feel her soft cheek beneath his rough fingertips.