“...Screw it. I’ll just wash up and pass out.”
But even after he took a shower, Wooheon couldn’t sleep.
He lay there sorting through his feelings, trying to figure out if this was just the mating instinct....
Or something more.
Before bed, he pulled up a photo from the reservoir.
He smiled without meaning to—then caught himself and forced it away.
And again.
Yueul never came back that night.
While Wooheon tossed and turned in his room, the weasel wandered off into the forest path next to the reservoir.
He slipped into the woods and didn’t stop hunting—all night long.
* * *
Yueul came slinking down the mountain at 4:51 a.m., with a snake dangling from his jaws.
Dirt clung to his rough fur, twigs stuck to his back—but he didn’t even think to shake them off.
The weasel, grimy and ragged, dragged his clothes from where they’d been left on the dirty ground and carried them one by one to the porch.
Once all the clothes were up, he started pacing the yard.
