Chapter Text
Cale hated it.
Hated waking up to the worried looks. Hated the way they hovered, watching his every move. Hated how they noticed.
He had been so careful.
So why did they have to see?
His body was his own. His pain was his own.
It wasn’t supposed to be their burden.
Yet now, after collapsing in front of them, he was trapped under their suffocating concern.
He could still hear Raon’s panicked cries. Could still feel Choi Han’s arms around him, steady but trembling. Could still see the blood staining the floor, the way Ron’s usually unreadable expression had darkened.
And Eruhaben—
Cale closed his eyes.
The golden dragon had looked furious. Not at him, but at the situation. At the fact that his healing had done nothing.
That had been days ago.
Now, Cale was awake. Alive. Stuck.
---
He got better at hiding it.
They watched him too closely during the day, so he adapted.
He drank when they weren’t looking—just a little, just enough to make the thoughts slow, to make the pain dull.
He stayed out of sight, taking walks at night when the others were asleep.
His body still ached, but the fresh air helped.
It had to be enough.
---
The first night he tried to slip out, he barely made it past his door before Ron was there.
“Going somewhere, young master?”
Cale forced a lazy smile. “Just getting some air.”
Ron said nothing, but his eyes flickered, sharp and knowing.
Cale walked past him anyway.
Ron didn’t stop him.
But when Cale returned, the old butler was still there, waiting.
---
The second night, Choi Han found him.
Cale had been sitting outside, looking at the stars, when a shadow moved beside him.
“Cale-nim.”
Cale sighed. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
Cale didn’t answer.
Choi Han sat down next to him, quiet as always.
They stayed like that for a while.
Then Choi Han spoke.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
Cale stiffened.
He turned, lazily lifting an eyebrow. “Do what?”
Choi Han didn’t look at him. His hands curled into fists.
“You know what I mean.”
Cale smiled. “I really don’t.”
Choi Han finally looked at him, eyes dark with something Cale didn’t want to name.
“You collapsed.”
Cale shrugged. “It happens.”
Choi Han clenched his jaw.
“You were coughing up blood.”
Cale tilted his head, feigning boredom. “And?”
Choi Han’s hands trembled.
“Cale-nim.”
There was something desperate in his voice.
Cale looked away.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
Cale sighed. “Then what do you want me to say?”
“That you need help.”
Cale scoffed. “I don’t.”
Choi Han inhaled sharply.
“You’re in pain.”
Cale didn’t respond.
Choi Han continued.
“You barely eat. You barely sleep. You hide how much it hurts.” His voice was low but steady. “You think we don’t see it, but we do.”
Cale stared at the sky.
“I’m fine,” he repeated.
Choi Han exhaled, long and slow.
Then, softly—
“You don’t have to be.”
Cale closed his eyes.
---
He got better at dodging them after that.
Ron, Choi Han, Rosalyn, Alberu—he avoided them when he could.
Even Raon, who clung to him like a shadow, was easier to slip away from when the dragon was distracted by On and Hong.
Cale didn’t want their concern.
Didn’t need it.
He had survived worse.
A little pain was nothing.
---
But the pain didn’t stop.
It got worse.
Some nights, he barely managed to make it back to his room before his legs gave out.
Some nights, the coughing was so bad he had to bite down on his sleeve to keep from making noise.
Some nights, he wondered if he’d wake up at all.
---
One night, he didn’t make it back.
He had wandered farther than usual, his body weak, his head heavy.
The air was cool, the stars distant.
Then the dizziness hit.
His knees buckled.
The pain flared, sharp and unbearable.
His vision blurred.
He barely registered the sound of footsteps before he collapsed.
Strong arms caught him.
A familiar voice cursed.
Then—darkness.
---
When Cale woke up, he wasn’t in his room.
He was somewhere warmer, softer.
Blinking slowly, he turned his head.
Choi Han sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes dark.
Cale sighed.
“Really?”
Choi Han didn’t respond.
Cale shifted, trying to sit up—
Pain.
He barely managed to suppress a wince, but Choi Han caught it anyway.
His expression didn’t change.
“You collapsed.”
Cale looked away. “I’m fine.”
Choi Han’s voice was cold.
“No. You’re not.”
Cale sighed. “It’s not that bad.”
Choi Han inhaled sharply.
“You almost didn’t wake up.”
Cale stilled.
Choi Han leaned forward, his voice quiet but firm.
“You keep pushing yourself.” His fists clenched. “You keep acting like none of this matters. Like you don’t matter.”
Cale looked at him, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
“I—”
Choi Han didn’t let him finish.
“We are your family, Cale-nim.”
Cale froze.
Choi Han’s voice shook.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
Cale swallowed.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what to say.
And when the nightmares came—bloody battlefields, the weight of corpses, the suffocating pressure of expectations—he suffered through them in silence.
The first time he woke up gasping for breath, sweat clinging to his skin, he thought it was just a fluke. Just his body catching up to everything.
The second time, he pressed his hand against his chest, feeling his own heartbeat hammering against his ribs, and reminded himself it wasn’t real.
The third time, he bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood, desperate not to wake anyone up.
And the fourth—
The fourth time, he didn’t wake up alone.
---
“Cale-nim.”
A quiet voice called to him, gentle but firm.
Cale jerked awake, his body tense, his breath ragged. The ghost of pain lingered in his chest, as if his own body refused to let go of whatever haunted him in his sleep.
The room was dim, the soft glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains.
Beside him, Choi Han sat, worry etched into every part of him. His brows were furrowed, his eyes dark and searching.
Cale swallowed, forcing his breath to steady.
“…What are you doing here?” His voice came out rough, hoarse from sleep.
Choi Han didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied him, taking in the tremble in Cale’s fingers, the way his body curled in on itself.
“You were having a nightmare,” he finally said.
Cale exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “So?”
Choi Han’s gaze didn’t waver. “You sounded like you were in pain.”
Cale frowned.
He didn’t remember making a sound.
Had he—
Had he been loud enough for Choi Han to hear?
(Annoying.)
Cale sighed, rubbing at his temple. “It’s nothing.”
Choi Han’s jaw tightened.
“Cale-nim.”
Cale ignored the way his name sounded—firm, steady, worried.
“I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that,” Choi Han said quietly.
Cale lifted an eyebrow. “Because it’s true.”
Choi Han’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Is it?”
Cale’s patience was wearing thin. “Choi Han, I don’t need you to—”
“Lie to me, then.”
Cale paused.
Choi Han’s voice was calm, steady, but there was something underneath it. Something desperate.
“Tell me you’re not in pain.”
Cale’s fingers twitched.
“Tell me you’re sleeping well.”
Cale looked away.
“Tell me you aren’t exhausted, that you don’t feel like collapsing every time you stand.”
Cale’s breath hitched.
Silence settled between them, heavy, suffocating.
Then Choi Han exhaled, long and slow.
“I just—” His voice wavered. “I just want you to let us help.”
Cale closed his eyes.
Help.
What a useless thing.
But—
The way Choi Han was looking at him, the way his voice trembled—
It reminded Cale too much of before.
Of how they had all followed him through battle after battle.
Of how they had watched him bleed and never once turned away.
Of how they had all believed in him, even when he never believed in himself.
Cale sighed.
He leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion creeping into his bones.
“…I don’t know how,” he admitted.
Choi Han stilled.
Cale let his eyes drift shut. “I don’t know how to stop.”
He didn’t know how to stop fighting.
Didn’t know how to stop pretending.
Didn’t know how to let himself just be.
Choi Han’s voice was softer this time.
“Then let us show you.”
Cale didn’t answer.
But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t push Choi Han away.