Three Days Without the Fog
It had been three days. Three days since I last saw the Fog.
Every dawn I would sit staring blankly at my bed until I finally managed to drag myself out of it. Whether it was the sleep debt piling up or something else, my whole body felt heavy and wrung out.
"Are you having breakfast, Actor-nim?"
"Yes. I'll eat."
Thankfully, the principles governing the Misfortune Factor seemed unchanged. I had accidentally skipped school entirely on the first day, but I couldn't keep missing classes. So yesterday, I woke before dawn and practiced for three hours. In truth, my focus was so scattered that it was probably closer to two and a half. Still, it seemed to have worked—nothing out of the ordinary happened all day.
Even so, anxiety gnawed at me, and I cut down the time I spent talking with Noh Bihyeok and Park Haeun. When I told them I was feeling unwell and wanted to rest a bit, they accepted it without a fuss and backed off. I had no way of knowing what kind of accident might strike, so I couldn't afford to take risks.
Which was why today I'd woken up thirty minutes earlier than yesterday and practiced even longer. I was exhausted, but if there was one consolation, it was that the more I practiced, the lighter my mood grew. At the very least, Yoo-hyun's state of mind had been far healthier than mine was right now.
Come to think of it, I should probably rotate the character I'm practicing soon. Who should it be this time?
"Hyung, do you have any spare scripts lying around at the company?"
"……Why do you ask?"
"I just want to practice acting."
He didn't answer right away, and the hesitation in his silence was unfamiliar—though at the time, I didn't think much of it. It was only after spreading jam on a piece of toast and taking a bite that I realized Manager Ahn Jinbae was stalling.
"If you don't have any, that's fine. I was just asking."
"Ah…, well, we have plenty of scripts. It's just that, right now, I think rest would do you more good than practice."
His stumbling words barely registered. I felt strangely indifferent to them.
"Okay. I'll rest then."
"……Are you feeling a bit better now?"
The two days ago I'd spent in the grip of panic had been pure chaos. Manager Ahn Jinbae must have been badly rattled too, yet somehow he'd never once pushed me or rushed me. The presence I'd felt hovering outside my door for hours only disappeared after I sent him a second text telling him I was fine. The next morning, when I woke and saw the food he'd left outside—stone cold by then—the guilt swelled even larger.
This person had done nothing wrong. No one had, really. It was all me.
"A lot better. Thank you for worrying about me."
"Of course. If there's ever anything you want to talk about, please don't hesitate."
"I will."
Hoping to look as sincere as possible, I nodded, then rose slowly from my seat. After brushing the crumbs off my hands and getting dressed, I headed out.
It was the start of another tedious day.
***
"Lee Yeonjae, how are you feeling? You okay?"
"Yeah. A lot better."
"Lots of people are catching colds with the season changing. It's not a cold, is it?"
"Hmm…, I don't know. I think I'm fine."
*Fine, my foot. Something's seriously wrong with him.*
Noh Bihyeok clicked his tongue inwardly as he watched Lee Yeonjae blink slowly. The answer came out round and smooth, but the look in his eyes was sharp.
He seemed to be trying his best not to show anything, and yet something about him felt precarious, like a wire pulled taut. The edge and irritability bleeding through his expression was worse than yesterday.
"Then get some more rest."
"Sure."
That was the end of the conversation. Noh Bihyeok shook his head as Lee Yeonjae, apparently having waited for exactly that, slumped forward onto his desk. From across the room, he was texting Park Haeun, who was asking how he was doing today, an answer so flatly final that no amount of optimism could spin it. Her expression, in turn, drooped.
And so Lee Yeonjae spent another whole day in a daze. During class, during breaks, even in the middle of eating, he seemed perpetually lost somewhere far away.
*Well, at least he's eating today. Yesterday he skipped lunch claiming he wasn't hungry.* Should I buy him something then? When asked, he just smiled, shook his head, and said he was fine.
He only smiled, but the message radiating from every inch of him was unmistakable: *stay away from me.*
*What is he, a hedgehog?*
Noh Bihyeok stole a glance at Yeonjae's blank face. With those dark eyes, he honestly did resemble that glaring-hedgehog meme that had once spread like wildfire across the internet. The guy had always been absurdly soft-hearted and affectionate beneath it all, so maybe seeing him bristling like this wasn't entirely a bad thing.
Still, there had to be a reason. And not knowing what that reason was—that was the biggest problem right now.
Park Haeun had wondered if it was the hate comments that had spiked lately, but Noh Bihyeok had shaken his head firmly. He didn't know everything about Lee Yeonjae, but on this he could be certain. The guy barely touched his phone to begin with; he probably had no idea what comments were even being posted. Or to put it more precisely, he couldn't care less.
Going as far as skipping school without a word meant something had happened. But what that something was, nobody knew. Noh Bihyeok had called Lee Yeonjae's manager—until then just a name saved in his contacts—only to be told the man didn't really know either.
A few minutes after hanging up that useless call, his phone rang from an unknown number. It was the celebrity Lee Jeonghyeon. The man opened with a polite mention of having met a few months ago, then fired off question after question, each one thick with urgency—how had Yeonjae been doing at school lately, had he confided any troubles to anyone?
Under normal circumstances, being on the phone with *the* Lee Jeonghyeon would have sent him into euphoria, but he wasn't the kind of person to get drunk on that feeling while his friend was falling apart. What mattered right now was why his friend's mental state had crumbled like this.
Noh Bihyeok told him everything he knew in earnest, and the two tossed around every idea they could think of, but no clear answer emerged. The second call, like the first, ended with nothing gained.
"Bihyeok, I'm heading out first."
"Yeah. Rest up over the weekend."
Ever since moving, Lee Yeonjae's manager had been arriving precisely at the end of the school day to pick him up. Today, too, a black car pulled in right on the dot, and Yeonjae greeted it first.
At the reminder to rest over the weekend, he gave the faintest smile and turned away without a backward glance. Watching him go, Noh Bihyeok suddenly remembered the thing he'd brought this morning and hurriedly called out.
"Lee Yeonjae!"
"Hm?"
"I meant to give you this. Forgot until now."
At the sight of that face wearing a smile flecked with weariness and annoyance, his hands dug through his bag all the faster. The moment he spotted his target, he yanked it out and plopped it into Yeonjae's pale, outstretched hands.
"…? What's this?"
"You like books, right? Your manager hyung said so. Or was he wrong?"
He'd been leaving the house this morning when a book on the shelf had inexplicably caught his eye, and he'd grabbed it on impulse. He had no idea whose it was, but he figured no one would ever notice it was gone.
Only then did Lee Yeonjae drop the smile he'd been wearing out of mere formality, his whole face filling with displeasure. Apparently, he wanted to know when on earth his manager had been chatting about him to Noh Bihyeok.
He could have asked, easily. But this particular hedgehog was in no state for conversation.
"I don't read, so you keep it. You haven't read it before, right?"
"No. I haven't, but…."
"Then we're good. If it's not your thing, don't read it. Have a good weekend, anyway."
He turned away first, deliberately. Walking off at a brisk pace, he glanced back over his shoulder to see Lee Yeonjae trudging along with the book in one hand. He watched until Yeonjae climbed into the black car with his listless, dragging gait, then turned fully around.
*I should leave him alone this weekend. Tch. Guess it'll be boring, then.*
It had always been fun calling him once a week to shoot the breeze about nothing. The way people's eyes slid to that too-noticeable face instead of his own was satisfying, and the way Yeonjae would hear Noh Bihyeok's name and show not the slightest flicker of recognition—even that was oddly gratifying. He wore an expression that screamed *this is a chore*, yet somehow never managed to say no and just took everything that came his way. That should have looked pathetic; instead, even that came to feel distinctly like Lee Yeonjae.
*Ugh…, I'm bored already.*
He wanted to help, but his role ended here. Friend, lover, family—whatever the relationship, there were clear limits to how much one person could carry another. Even so….
"Whatever's going on, I hope it works itself out soon~"
Noh Bihyeok sincerely wished that whatever was tormenting Lee Yeonjae would come to an end, and quickly.
***
"Sleep well, Actor-nim."
I started to nod absentmindedly—and froze.
The silence stretched on for a few seconds, and the moment I registered it, I hurriedly opened my mouth.
"Good night to you too, hyung."
His eyes, brimming with worry, landed on my face above that smiling farewell. I felt bad about it, but I had no room to give that expression any kind of response.
*A good dream, huh.*
What even counted as a good dream? Sure, my sleep was short, but I was sleeping soundly enough. It had been so long since I'd dreamed of anything but the Fog that over the past three days I'd actually caught myself thinking, *oh, right—this is what sleeping is like.* By that logic, I was having good dreams right now.
But I knew, precisely and painfully, what a good dream would mean to me now.
*It doesn't matter. It's over anyway.*
Regret was pointless when the thing was already done. Until yesterday, some thin thread of hope had remained; now my heart was simply empty. If I hadn't seen him for three straight days, the odds were good I'd never see him again.
I spent the day on pointless hypotheticals: *If only I hadn't made that request, would I still be meeting him?* Lying in bed, I heaved a sigh and sat up to turn off the light.
As I passed my desk, the book Noh Bihyeok had given me caught my eye.
Surely, It Will Come True Tonight.
I stared at the title that kept pulling my gaze until I could finally tear my eyes away. It was just one of those mass-produced self-help books. Typical of Noh Bihyeok, really—even his gifts were like this.
An inexplicable flash of irritation surged through me, and I snapped off the light and dropped into bed. Tonight, of all nights, I hated myself. The thought of the feeling that came with waking up made me want to stay awake straight through until morning.
"……."
But as time passed, the eyes staring blankly at the ceiling slowly lost their tension. My shoulders, rigid all day, went slack, and drowsiness crept over me naturally. *So that's it, another day gone*—I was sinking into that hollow feeling when—
"Yeonjae!"
A voice I hadn't heard in three days—though it felt like years.
"Huh? Yeonjae? What—why won't you open your eyes?"
*Don't get your hopes up,* I thought quietly, eyes still closed. *It could be a dream. Yes, that's it. Though if I thought that and he still didn't appear, that wouldn't make sense either.*
The thought—*maybe it's not really the Fog, just a Fog my dream conjured up*—cut off abruptly as the Fog lifted my eyelids open for me.
"Heehee! Not telling me to keep my hands off this time? Did you miss me?"
The Fog, who had pried my eyelids open the day we first met, was beaming just as brightly as it had been then. But those clear, childlike laughing eyes gradually stiffened—and then began to drift, searching for a place to land.
"Yeonjae…, uh…."
"……."
"……Why—why are you crying?"
I raised my hands and covered my face. My palms were soaked in an instant. The feeling that surged up without giving me even a moment to brace against it left me helpless. I clenched my teeth, terrified that the slightest loosening would let a sound escape—and through it all, I could feel the Fog floundering, at a complete loss.
It wrapped me in a hesitant embrace, then patted my back, then stroked my hair the way it had once been stroked—and not a single gesture of it was clumsy.
That was what made me laugh.
It hadn't been a dream.