There are three pauses in Hyungwon's life. The one before ten years slip between his fingers on the edge of a skyscraper, the two sets of eyelids his hand brushes closed under the flash of headlights on the street, and the three words he tapes onto a pen placed into a brown box that lights up a smile on a black-vested sentry who wants to reverse the clockwork scars bleeding out his chest.

Back slid up against the door, heart thudding in his ears, Hoseok thinks how garbage of a human being he must be to hurt someone like Hyungwon.