The Last Esper [BL]
Chapter 32: To fall and rise again

Chapter 32: To fall and rise again

"Are you okay?" a soft voice asked behind him.

Rong Ye blinked slowly, recognizing the owner of the voice immediately. His lungs burned and his breath came in ragged gasps, but he sighed heavily nonetheless. He didn’t feel like looking.

"No..." he said.

He heard footsteps approaching cautiously over the shards of glass scattered on the floor. Then, a body knelt beside him. Eun-woo’s hands rested on Rong Ye’s neck, right where the warm blood was still oozing from the claws Arthur had dug in.

"Stop pretending to care." Rong Ye glanced at him.

"Sorry... I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to help you."

Rong Ye narrowed his eyes. A bitter laugh escaped his throat, choked with exertion. Blood still soaked his neck, and the icy wetness was beginning to chill his bones, but the apology felt unbearably ironic.

"Really?" He snorted contemptuously. "You didn’t arrive in time, you didn’t choose me as your Guide... and now you look at me like I hurt you. Stop looking at me with pity."

Eun-woo shifted his gaze to the gaping wounds on Rong Ye’s neck. Blood continued to trickle down in slow lines, staining his chest and dyeing the hem of his torn shirt. He was breathing heavily, and though he tried to maintain his composure, every gasp made it clear that he was consumed by pain.

Without saying anything, Eun-woo stood up and looked around. He walked through the wreckage of the smashed window, carefully dodging the glass, until he found an old rag hanging on the counter. It wasn’t ideal, but it was clean and dry.

He took it and quickly returned to Rong Ye, knelt beside him, and with trembling hands pressed the cloth against the wound on his neck.

Rong Ye tensed, letting out a low grunt of pain, but didn’t push it away.

"I need to stop the bleeding," Eun-woo held the cloth in place, applying gentle pressure. "Just... stay still for a moment."

A crooked smile appeared on Rong Ye’s face.

"Do you want to know why Arthur was here?" he asked. "Because I called him. I gave him the location. What did you expect from me, Eun-woo? To just disappear when you rejected me?"

Eun-woo didn’t move. He didn’t even move away. He just stared at Rong Ye with wide eyes.

"I’m sorry," Eun-woo repeated softly. "I’m sorry I couldn’t reciprocate the way you wanted."

"Stop apologizing!" Rong Ye glared at him. "You don’t have to pity me, do you understand? I’m not a martyr, nor a victim. I’m..." Rong Ye paused, his breath shaking, "I’m a bad person, Eun-woo."

"I don’t feel sorry for you," Eun-woo said calmly. "It hurts that I can’t give you what you want. But... I can be your friend. And if you let me, I’ll be a good friend. Really."

The room fell silent.

Rong Ye did not reply.

He didn’t laugh.

He didn’t scream.

He didn’t cry.

He just stood there, his throat still pounding, his gaze lost somewhere between the kitchen and Eun-woo’s hands.

Rong Ye was exhausted. Not just physically, but also tired of trying to provoke a reaction that never came.

With Caelan, it was different. He responded to his words, took the bait, got angry, and argued. There was something predictable and almost comforting about that shared hostility.

But Eun-woo was like a wall. Impossible to tear down with sarcasm, impossible to scratch with cruelty. He looked at him with those big, sad eyes, not to judge him, not to defend himself, but simply... to be there.

And that frustrated him.

Because he didn’t know what to do with someone like that.

But also, something in that calm, in that silent stubbornness, was beginning to move Rong Ye.

"How do I stop the bleeding?" Eun-woo asked, his brow furrowed as he applied more pressure to the wound.

Rong Ye narrowed his eyes. He struggled to keep them open. Each word scraped his throat as if he were speaking through nails.

"Don’t stop it," he gasped. "Just let me die already..."

"Don’t say that..." Eun-woo pressed the cloth a little tighter against his neck. "Please don’t say that anymore."

With extreme care, Eun-woo bent down and placed an arm under Rong Ye’s shoulders. Rong Ye’s thin, injured body offered little resistance. Slowly, Eun-woo helped him up from the ground.

And although Rong Ye growled in protest, he didn’t move away.

Eun-woo held him firmly, making sure the cloth remained pressed against the wound on his neck as he tucked him against his chest.

"We have to leave," Eun-woo said quietly. "We need to find the rest."

Rong Ye didn’t reply. His eyes were narrowed, his face pale, and although each step Eun-woo took shook him slightly, he didn’t resist.

With effort, Eun-woo crossed the broken threshold and stepped outside.

The sun had faded behind the tree line, leaving only a faint blue light filtering through the branches. The birds were no longer singing. All that remained was the crunching of dry leaves under Eun-woo’s feet and the distant buzzing of night insects. With each step, the branches swayed with a soft groan.

Eun-woo moved forward carefully. Sometimes he tripped over roots or moss-covered stones, and his feet slipped on the damp earth, but he managed to keep his balance.

A deafening creak broke the silence of the forest.

They both stopped dead in their tracks.

Eun-woo immediately dropped to the ground, shielding Rong Ye’s body with his own, instinctively covering him. Barely a second later, something enormous slammed into the tree they had just passed, splintering the bark and making the ground tremble with its impact.

The blow sent up a cloud of dirt and dead leaves. Eun-woo gritted his teeth, holding Rong Ye to his chest, not daring to look right away.

Rong Ye, still half-stunned, slowly raised his head.

At first he couldn’t make out what the dark mass was, hanging crookedly among the roots and broken branches, but when his vision cleared, he swallowed hard.

It was the wolf, the same one who had saved him minutes before. Now he lay lifeless, his body mangled, his jaws wide open.

"No..." Eun-woo whispered.

From where the crack had come, a silhouette appeared. Large, deformed, with arms too long and eyes like deep wells.

Arthur.

Or what was left of it.

The Butcher let out a scream of fury, high and visceral.

Eun-woo stood up as best he could, staggering under the weight of Rong Ye in his arms, but not letting go.

Arthur roared and lunged at them.

Eun-woo spun around, stumbling as he tried to escape, and felt the Butcher’s claws graze his back. He was inches away from catching him.

"Leave me alone!" Rong Ye cried, his voice hoarse from exertion and blood. "If you want to survive, leave me here!"

"I’m not going to do it!" Eun-woo replied without looking back.

That split second was enough.

The undergrowth burst open, and Eun-woo lost his balance. The invisible slope in front of them swallowed them up without warning. They tumbled through roots, mud, and wet leaves.

They fell.

Eun-woo hit the ground hard, cushioned only by his back and the arms that hadn’t let go of Rong Ye. He gasped from the impact, but he didn’t lose control. He tried to sit up, just as he heard heavy, angry footsteps descending behind them.

The Butcher was there. A few feet away, at the bottom of the slope. His jaws were wide open, disproportionate, his black tongue hanging out between rows of misshapen, glass-sharp teeth.

He was preparing to launch himself.

Eun-woo, his elbows scraped and his body aching, struggled to stand. He slipped on the wet ground, panting, his arms still wrapped around Rong Ye’s injured body. His breathing was frantic.

Rong Ye did not move.

Arthur was going to kill them.

Him.

And Eun-woo.

And there was no way around it. There was no escape, no strength left to fight back... They were going to die there, at the hands of a monster he himself had brought to them. And the worst part was, he knew it. He knew it was all his fault.

And then, a shot rang out.

Arthur staggered back with a scream. The bullet had passed through his shoulder, sending out a thick, dark spray that splattered the ground.

From the top of the slope, a silhouette appeared with a rifle in its hands.

Rhys emerged at the top of the slope.

His clothes were dirty, stained with mud and dried splashes, as if he’d been running nonstop. His hair, soaked by the damp weather, stuck to his forehead and temples. But none of this diminished the fury and determination on his face. He held the rifle in both hands, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"Get away from them!" he roared.

Rong Ye, still on the floor in Eun-woo’s arms, looked at Rhys as if seeing him for the first time. And although he would never admit it out loud, a warm feeling ran through his chest.

For the first time, he was glad to see him arrive.

And that made him even more furious.