"Just sitting down for a moment should help."
[Let me help you.]
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Tucking her phone into the pocket of her apron, she reached out and took his arm. With Ms. Ahn’s support, Heemin sank onto the living room sofa, practically lying down.
[I’ll call the doctor.]
"I’ll be fine after eating some pizza, so don’t call him."
He had barely managed to placate Cha Iheon after the man dragged him to a psychiatrist, refusing to believe anything. If Dr. Hwang came now, there was no telling what new excuse Iheon would find to stir up trouble. Flashing a smile at the woman, who was watching him with concern, Heemin subtly changed the subject.
"I ate two of the instant ramen cups from the auxiliary kitchen."
[Did you?]
"Sorry. I didn’t ask before taking them."
[It’s fine.]
Unlike Dr. Hwang, who evoked an instinctive sense of trust, Heemin didn’t feel particularly drawn to Ms. Ahn. Still, she didn’t make him uncomfortable. If nothing else, he found a certain reassurance in the fact that she was someone who would never betray Cha Iheon, no matter what happened.
Being able to foresee the future was essentially the same as having the ability to distinguish between enemies and allies.
[Use this to order. I don’t know what’s what.]
After bringing him a warm mug of water and a light blanket, she handed Heemin a phone.
If he were Seo Heemin, the original character, he would have taken the phone and immediately contacted the secondary male lead, Do Junyoung, plotting his escape. But Heemin had no intention of getting involved with Do Junyoung. It was already overwhelming enough dealing with Cha Iheon—he didn’t need another man in the mix.
Pizza was best enjoyed on its own. If he got greedy and added jjambbong to the mix, his stomach might be full, but all he’d be left with was a muddled taste.
If this were some kind of dating sim, he might have treated it like an all-you-can-eat buffet and recklessly pursued every love interest available. But this was Crimson Veil, a novel where even a relationship with Cha Iheon wouldn’t end in love—it was a story doomed to a tragic ending.
Instead of messaging Do Junyoung for help, Heemin opened a search engine and looked up DoXno Pizza. Since this world was a near-perfect replica of reality, he was relieved to see the official website of his favorite pizza chain appear on the screen.
He was about to call in his order when he remembered that Ms. Ahn couldn’t speak. Opting for a delivery app instead, he installed it and, feeling rather pleased with himself, applied a ₩10,000 discount coupon for first-time orders. He carefully filled his cart, making sure to add three packets of hot sauce, garlic dipping sauce, and a bottle of cola.
"What’s the address here?"
Although the season had shifted from midwinter to early spring, the outside world looked almost identical to the one he had lived in before. The real problem, however, was that this place looked exactly like the high-rise apartment complex where his friend Iheon lived.
Surely, the address isn’t the same too...
Watching closely as Ms. Ahn typed out the address, Heemin felt his stomach tighten.
[Seoul, XX District, XX Avenue 17, Building 101, Apartment 5001.]
He didn’t let his expression slip, but the fact that even the apartment number was the same left him rattled. Come to think of it, while the interior decor differed, the overall layout was identical to his friend’s home.
This is insane. How is this even possible?
He had assumed his familiarity with the house came from the novel’s detailed descriptions, but that wasn’t it. This place didn’t feel foreign because he had spent countless hours hanging out at Iheon’s home in the real world.
A novel wasn’t like a movie or drama—it wasn’t a visual medium. It only became complete when a reader’s imagination was added to the author’s words. Maybe that was why the world around him felt so familiar now that he was inside the book.
For all the books he had read, it seemed his imagination was rather limited. If his perception of this world was so constrained, it was likely a reflection of his own narrow field of vision.
[Get some rest. I’ll go clean up.]
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
After returning the phone, Ms. Ahn handed him the remote control. Heemin settled in, waiting impatiently for his pizza to arrive as he flipped on the TV.
The programs airing were no different from the variety shows he had watched in reality. He mindlessly flipped through the channels, only stopping when he landed on a movie channel. Snuggling deeper into the blanket, he adjusted his position.
The film was about an ostracized Omega high schooler and the Alpha class president—a sweet first love story. Aside from the fact that the protagonists developed a romantic relationship instead of remaining friends, it reminded him of his own childhood with Iheon. A small smile crept onto his lips as memories resurfaced.
Maybe it was the warmth of the blanket or the exhaustion from moving around all morning, but sleep crept up on him before he could fight it.
With the distant hum of the TV murmuring in his ears, Heemin closed his eyes.
***
Grrrgle.
Heemin coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up the sound of his stomach growling. His gut, relentless in its demands for food today, felt particularly cruel. He clenched his abdomen tightly, willing it to stay quiet. It was the last period of the day—if he could just endure a little longer, he could go home. He repeated this to himself over and over like a mantra.
Because of ongoing construction in the cafeteria, students had to bring their own lunch for the entirety of March. Not wanting to trouble his mother, who was always busy with work, Heemin had chosen to skip lunch from the very first day of school.
Instead, he spent his lunch breaks in the library, reading. He hadn't made a single friend, but at least he didn’t have to force himself to buy lunch. That, he told himself, was enough.
— "You must be really hungry."
As he packed his textbooks into his bag after class, a large figure in front of him turned around and spoke.
— "...Huh? Me?"
— "Yeah, you. Seo Heemin."
Caught off guard, Heemin’s face flushed red. He lowered his head quickly. A clean, soapy scent drifted toward him, making him feel even more embarrassed for some reason. He mumbled an apology, his voice barely above a whisper.
— "Sorry. Was it too loud?"
— "A little."
— "I'll be more careful next time."
The class president was the most popular student in school. Despite only just starting middle school, he was as tall as a high schooler—and on top of that, he was handsome. Not just the kids in their class, but the entire school liked him. Everyone wanted to befriend him. Even the teachers placed their trust in him.
Heemin didn’t expect to become friends with Cha Iheon, but he also didn’t want to be on bad terms with him. From now on, he’d have to remember to at least drink some water to fill his stomach before class. He mentally noted to bring a cup with him next time.
— "Do you go to an academy?"
Iheon asked casually in his slow, relaxed tone.
— "No."
— "Good. Let’s go."
— "Huh? Go where?"
— "My house."
Iheon slung his bag over one shoulder and got up from his seat. The soft green curtains by the window fluttered in the breeze, and between the gaps, golden afternoon sunlight streamed in.
The way he stood there, bathed in the light, smiling so effortlessly—it looked like a scene straight out of a coming-of-age movie. Heemin couldn’t bring himself to ask the obvious question: Why do I have to go to your house?
— "See you later, Iheon!"
— "Bye, Iheon!"
— "See you tomorrow!"
As Iheon stepped out of the classroom, his classmates eagerly called out to him. Even students from other classes waved at him the moment they saw him in the hallway. It was a stark contrast to Heemin, who, having spent most of his time alone, had never built that kind of connection with anyone.
He wasn’t being bullied—he had simply chosen to keep to himself. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that being seen with someone like him might make Cha Iheon look bad. Keeping a small distance between them as they walked, he hoped not to draw too much attention.
Iheon's neatly trimmed hair and broad shoulders stood out in his vision. Their uniforms were exactly the same, yet on him, the navy-blue blazer looked like a designer brand piece. It was fascinating.
In a monochrome world, he was the only one in color.
The way the other students—both boys and girls—watched him with admiration, the way they longed for a chance to speak to him, made Heemin feel like an audience member in a play. He followed slowly, as if he were merely observing.
— "Seo Heemin?"
He had been careful not to attract attention, walking quietly behind him. But suddenly, Iheon stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned around, his expression firm.
— "Huh? What?"
— "I thought you’d run off."
— "I was keeping up just fine."
— "Walk next to me."
Iheon flicked his fingers in a beckoning motion. Hastily, Heemin jogged down the last few steps and fell into step beside him.
The moment he did, he felt the weight of countless gazes on him. Some were laced with jealousy, others with admiration.
And strangely, something like a sense of superiority took root inside him.
Maybe it was because, in elementary school, all his friends had been at the same level—none of them stood out like this.
Heemin stole a few glances at Iheon as they walked toward the bus stop. He was walking silently, his face slightly flushed.
Why is he bringing me to his house?
This was the first real conversation they’d ever had. No—if you could even call it a conversation. Technically, all Iheon had done was tell him to be quiet. That hardly counted.
He wouldn’t have missed part of the lesson just because of my stomach growling... would he?
As class president, he had a reputation to uphold. If he asked for someone’s notes in front of others, it might be embarrassing. So maybe he was taking Heemin home to copy down what he had missed.
That thought made Heemin feel guilty. He had been starving, but now he figured he could hold out a little longer.
Following behind, he hesitated for a moment before stepping onto the bus that Iheon had boarded.
— "Two fares, please."
Iheon handed his card to the bus driver before Heemin could stop him. The scanner beeped, registering the fare for two passengers.
— "I have my own bus card."
Iheon must have assumed that Heemin was one of those kids who lived close enough to walk to school. But in reality, he had gotten stuck in an unfortunate zoning placement—his home was so far away he had to transfer buses twice to get to school.
Before he could explain, Iheon surprised him by saying something unexpected.