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# Chapter 123: Cold Fingers
Minjun sat with us over coffee, his eyes drifting down to his fingers as an awkward silence settled between us. They were still cold. Had been since morning. He couldn’t remember exactly when the chill had started creeping into his fingertips—sometime last night, maybe, under the fluorescent glare of that convenience store. That’s when the temperature had dropped.
After we’d taken our first sips, I asked him: “Minjun, what did you say to Sungjun?”
He recounted their conversation. Sungjun’s voice echoed in his memory. “Only take dead roles.” The words had carved themselves deep into Minjun’s chest. When we heard this, something shifted in our expressions—the casual light fading from our eyes, replaced by something more intent.
We leaned closer. “Minjun, you felt something from him, didn’t you? Why do you think he said that?”
Minjun considered the question. Sungjun’s voice, his tone, his gaze—it all lingered in Minjun’s mind. We moved nearer still. “What did his eyes feel like?”
Minjun thought back to those eyes. They were like a hunter’s—cold, assessing, searching. But Minjun realized he wasn’t the prey. He wasn’t even the stone being turned over. He was just something that happened to be in the way.
Our expressions deepened with interest. The realization settled between us, heavy and undeniable. Whatever Sungjun saw when he looked at Minjun, it wasn’t what anyone else would see. It was something far colder.