The next day, you decided to drop by Jaejoong’s house to collect more of your belongings and bring Jiji back home since there was a huge tendency of him getting lost again.

You unlocked the door of the apartment and let Jiji slid down from your arms. The sleek cat leaped off from it with ease and immediately ran to relax on the leather couch that it seemed to miss so much.

Lucky cat…just lying around on a leather couch when other people work their butts off just to earn enough to eat.

You headed to the kitchen to set down the cat food and bowl you brought with you. However, as your eyes drifted around the room, you noticed something very unusual.

The cupboards were carelessly yanked open and the drawers were pulled out. It seems as if someone had searched through it intensely.

The first thought that entered your mind was that it couldn’t have been Jaejoong’s doing. The guy’s as neat as someone who has a level 10 ocd.

Acting according to your survival instincts, you grabbed a huge, heavy pan from the kitchen counter and quietly scanned the house for any danger with your weapon held up the whole time. 

Everything was quiet and still. It almost scared you out of wits when Jiji purred. The innocent cat stared at you blankly.

As if it could understand you, you shushed the cat and held a finger against your lips.

In the midst of the eery silence, a loud crash erupted from the farthest room in the hallway—Jaejoong’s room.

For the succeeding moments it felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. If there were any suspicion that entered your mind that moment, 70% was made up of possible barging in of a burglar.

Jiji stood attentive and sniffed the air, as if it recognized something familiar, the cat perked up and leaped off the couch. It bounded towards the room where the sound came from. 

You watched—wide-eyed—waiting for any signs of the cat. Several seconds passed and there wasn’t a shadow seen from the room.

I can do this. You're not a scaredy cat ~~~. You can do this. 

You swallowed fearfully and started shuffling slowly to where Jiji went. As you got near, a weak voice moaned in pain.

The hair on your neck stood. You paused on your tracks—eventually taking a hesitant step back.

“~~~ - ah….” A ghost-like voice called out.

Whatever courage remained in your system drained out.

Bewildered, you shakily leaned against the wall and covered your eyes.

If there was anything you were afraid of, they were snakes—and ghosts.

The voice called out your name again—more strained yet clearer than before. It was a man’s voice—husky and weak.

The third time it called, something told you that it was familiar—that it didn’t belong to a dead man.

As if to ensure your thought, it spoke again, calling your name “~~~ -ah…” It was then followed by a series of horrendous coughing. It was then that you realized it was Jaejoong’s voice.

The worries rushed through your veins. Something really bad must have happened for Jaejoong to mess up his house. Immediately, you ran to his room and flicked on the lights.

On the bed, there laid Jaejoong—looking sick and pale. He retracted to the bright light and breathed heavily. His hand reached out to your direction as if seeking for comfort and safety.

Beside the bed were broken pieces of glass and spilled water. Tablets of medicines also lay across the carpeted side of the room.

“Yah….” Was all that you could say. It didn’t even sound angry as you always tried to sound with him. It sounded of concern and worry.

With an uneasy feeling, you took the initiative to kneel beside the bed and hold his hand with both of yours. It was so warm. It was more than warm—it was hot.

Jaejoong is having a very high fever.

“What damn thing happened to you?!” You placed the back of your hand against his forehead. He leaned against your touch and groaned. He was clearly in a state wherein he wouldn’t be able to at least respond properly.

You stood up and rolled up your sleeves. You ran out the room to fetch a basin filled with ice and damp towels. You set it down on the bedside table.

You squeezed a wet towel and placed it neatly on his forehead. The coldness of the towel brought relief to him—making him sigh.

Jaejoong slowly opened his eyes and pursed his lips—which were chapped due to dehydration.

“Wait here, I’ll get some water.” He nodded weakly.

You came back with a glass of water in your hand.  “Can you sit?” You asked.

Jaejoong struggled as his arms fail to carry his weight. You sat right next to him and helped him up by the waist. He was painfully thin and his whole body radiated of high temperature.

You placed the edge of the glass against his dry lips and he eagerly drank half of the water.

“Do you want me to call anyone? Your manager? Your mom?” You inquired.

“No. Just stay.” He breathed the words quietly and shuffled under his blanket.

When you were cleaning up the broken pieces of glasses and the scattered medicine tablets, Jaejoong abruptly sa