Tian excused himself for a brief moment, intending to settle the bill for the food and drink he had ordered. In that short span of time, Kihyeon descended into a state of complete delirium, thrashing and screaming in a manner that reverberated throughout the room. Before departing, Tian had managed to capture the commotion upon his telephone; yet in a sudden fit of panic, Kihyeon seized the device from him. Whether the evidence had been erased or preserved remained a most uncertain matter.

The transaction occupied no more than ten minutes, a period sufficient to disburse a sum nearly eightfold Kihyeon’s salary. Upon his return, Tian was met with a most unsettling sight: the room, once alive with sound and movement, now stood desolate and still. Kihyeon had vanished without a trace.

“Damn it, where on earth is Kihyeon?” he muttered under his breath. The young man’s bag and phone were gone, leaving only Tian’s belongings scattered across the table. With a swift motion, Tian seized his own bag and hurried out of the room.

Meanwhile, Kihyeon was stumbling his way out of the restaurant, his steps uneven and uncertain. More than once he nearly fell, and on one such occasion, a passing pedestrian caught him just in time.  Tian, convinced that Kihyeon would not be in the basement, made straight for the main entrance, hoping fortune might favor him with a glimpse of his friend. His intuition proved correct, Kihyeon had not gone far.

“Kihyeon!” Tian called out, rushing forward to seize the young man’s right arm.

“Let me go!” cried Kihyeon, wrenching himself free and stepping back from him.

Every passing eye turned toward the pair. To the onlookers, Tian must have appeared the image of a desperate lover, pleading for reconciliation with a partner determined to walk away. Several passers-by seemed half-inclined to intervene, some out of sympathy for Kihyeon, others perhaps eager to encourage him not to return to the man who pursued him so earnestly. Little did they know that the two were neither lovers nor quarrelling companions, but merely a doctor and his assistant.

“Kihyeon, it’s me,” Tian said softly, pressing a hand to his chest as though to awaken recognition.

But Kihyeon’s eyes were clouded with confusion. He stepped backward, trembling, a sorrow he could not name welling up within him. Then, as though a dam had broken, the first quiet sobs escaped him, gentle at first, then growing louder, raw with anguish that neither he nor Tian could quite comprehend.

“Hic…” The sound escaped him, a broken hiccup between sobs. Without apparent reason, tears traced slow, glistening paths down Kihyeon’s cheeks.

Tian stood bewildered. What had overcome the young man? Could this be the lingering effect of drink, or something far deeper that the eye could not discern?

“Yeon… come here,” Tian murmured, stepping forward with measured care. He raised both hands, gently brushing away the tears that clung to Kihyeon’s face. His concern was sincere, almost paternal, as he gave the trembling figure a light shake, hoping to rouse him from whatever haze clouded his mind.

Gradually, the sobs subsided. Though the tears had ceased, a faint tremor lingered in Kihyeon’s breath. Tian lifted the young man’s chin with a tenderness that belied his usual composure, and their eyes met, the doctor’s steady gaze meeting the dark, uncertain depths of his assistant’s.

“Are you awake now?” Tian asked softly. His voice was low, warm, and comforting, like a calm wind that settles the restless heart. Kihyeon gave a faint nod, small, uncertain, yet enough to ease Tian’s worry.