Go Hoon and Bae Jung-yoon followed the nurse into the exam room, where they went through a brief consultation and a set of routine tests.
They underwent bloodwork—checking liver enzymes, red blood cell counts, and screening for parasites. The veterinarian explained each result one by one in a kind, reassuring voice. Thankfully, no abnormalities were found anywhere in Kkongddeok-i’s body.
“Kkongddeok-i is, just as you said, type B. That’s actually an extremely rare blood type for cats. You’ve made an incredible decision. Thank you so much.”
The veterinarian didn’t hold back his praise for Bae Jung-yoon’s choice. Bae Jung-yoon, on the other hand, only gave a faint smile as he turned to Go Hoon, as if to say, “Told you so.”
While the guardian waited in the reception area, Go Hoon went alone into the inner room to prepare for the donation.
“Stay still, Kkongddeok-i.”
The nurse held his head firmly in place so he couldn’t move, tilting it upward. Part of the fur at the back of his neck was shaved, revealing soft pink skin, and a layer of topical anesthetic cream was applied. A sedative was administered soon after, and once it took effect, they began the blood draw.
Once it was over, he was moved to the recovery room to receive IV fluids. When humans donate blood, they might get a bottle of sports drink at most—but cats, apparently, got VIP treatment.
“Kkongddeok-ah.”
After the entire process was finished, he was returned to Bae Jung-yoon’s arms.
“Kkongddeok-i did great. He got his fluids in the recovery room, too. Just keep an eye on him at home and make sure he doesn’t show any signs of anemia.”
As soon as he felt those familiar strong arms wrapped tightly around him and breathed in the scent he knew so well, all the tension left his body. Go Hoon finally felt at ease and let his eyes fall shut. Sleep had been tugging at him for a while now.
When he woke up from a deep nap, he found himself still lying on the bed next to Bae Jung-yoon. He wriggled slightly, trying to slip out of Bae Jung-yoon’s arms, and that small movement was enough to wake Bae Jung-yoon, who opened his eyes immediately.
“You’re awake?”
“Yaaang─.”
A large hand gently stroked his head. Go Hoon lingered for a moment, enjoying the soft touch before sitting up. After the rest, he felt completely back to normal.
Climbing off the bed, he headed into the bathroom and shifted back into his human form. He put on the clothes that had been prepared in advance and stood in front of the mirror, checking his neck. A tiny puncture mark remained.
“You okay?”
Go Hoon shifted his gaze past the mirror. Bae Jung-yoon was leaning against the doorway, watching him. Go Hoon rubbed the back of his neck and nodded.
“I’m fine. They just drew a little blood, that’s all.”
“Let me take a look.”
“I said I’m fine.”
But Bae Jung-yoon came over anyway and grabbed him by the chin. His large hand turned Go Hoon’s head side to side with no hesitation.
“So this is where they draw blood from cats, huh?”
His finger, which had been brushing gently over the reddened skin, suddenly pressed down firmly on his throat. His airway was pinched off, and it became hard to breathe.
Go Hoon held his breath and stared at Bae Jung-yoon. Those deep black eyes moved slowly, as if studying his reaction.
The hand that had been on his chin was now pressing against his lips. Go Hoon subtly leaned his head back, trying to avoid the touch.
Thankfully, Bae Jung-yoon didn’t follow up with anything more. He just stood there, staring at Go Hoon without a word.
“I’m hungry.”
Wanting to change the mood, Go Hoon shifted the subject.
“It’s almost dinner time. Want to order something? Since you helped me out today, I’ll treat you to something good.”
He considered getting pizza or fried chicken delivered. But Bae Jung-yoon clearly had something else in mind.
“Let’s go out.”
With that brief response, he stepped out of the bathroom.
***
The car stopped in front of a building designed like a traditional Korean hanok.
Go Hoon looked up at the sign with a serious expression. Eel, huh… That’s gonna be expensive. This jerk must really be trying to bleed me dry just because he did me one favor.
Still, whatever. He helped out, and I do get my paycheck from him. No reason to be stingy now.
“Hoon, you coming or what?”
Lost in thought, Go Hoon snapped out of it when Bae Jung-yoon—having already handed the keys to the valet—stood by the glass door holding it open for him.
He hurried inside, following Bae Jung-yoon past neatly dressed staff, until they reached a private room.
“Please use the kiosk beside you to place your order.”
The polite staff member bowed and backed out of the room. Once the door closed with a soft click, the room fell completely quiet.
Go Hoon sat down, glancing around the well-decorated space.
He left the ordering entirely to Bae Jung-yoon, who operated the kiosk like he was used to it. Soon after, the side dishes arrived—served in hefty brass bowls, with so many varieties that the table looked like it might collapse under the weight.
Before long, the star of the show arrived: the eel. It had already been lightly grilled to a perfect golden brown.
This restaurant apparently had a system where the staff did all the grilling for you. A man wearing black gloves began placing the eel pieces on the grill, one by one.
The eel sizzled on the grill with a sharp chiiik, releasing a mouthwatering aroma that hit their noses instantly. The server carefully set aside a few pieces that were fully cooked.
“Enjoy your meal.”
The moment the words were spoken, Go Hoon grabbed his chopsticks. There was no reason to hesitate—after all, it wasn’t his money.
“Thanks for the food,” he mumbled under his breath and popped a piece into his mouth.
The tender meat wrapped around his tongue and practically melted. It was so soft, you could’ve eaten it with your gums alone.
After finishing up the grilling, the server gave a respectful bow and quietly exited. Go Hoon kept eating, then casually asked Bae Jung-yoon,
“So, were you really craving eel?”
Jung-yoon glanced at him.
“You donated a whole pack of perfectly good blood. You should eat something nourishing.”
So this wasn’t for himself—it was for me.
“Let’s not exaggerate. It wasn’t a whole pack. Just one palm-sized pouch.”
Thinking he was being dramatic, Go Hoon shoved another piece into his mouth. Then, without meaning to, a question slipped out.
“You don’t like hospitals, do you?”
The moment he said it, he was taken aback. It had come out unfiltered, almost unconsciously—a half-formed thought that bypassed reason and turned into words.
“Yeah.”
Surprisingly, Jung-yoon admitted it without hesitation. Go Hoon felt a flicker of relief. For a moment, he’d worried the question might upset him.
So he really does hate hospitals. It made sense now.
Back when he’d stepped on glass and refused to get checked out. When he forced himself to discharge early after collapsing on the MT trip. Even the way he’d gone pale in the emergency room.
Go Hoon couldn’t say exactly why, but it was clear something had happened. Something tied to hospitals.
“Why do you hate them?”
He asked, not really expecting an answer—more to test the waters. As expected, Jung-yoon just shrugged and smirked.
“Who actually likes hospitals?”
“I mean, yeah, but you take it to another level.”
“You’re not as clueless as I thought.”
Go Hoon raised an eyebrow. What the hell—how clueless did he think I was? Just as he was about to shoot back, Jung-yoon spoke first.
“When I was a kid, my grandmother was hospitalized with cancer. She passed away less than a week later.”
His voice was quiet. Even.
“She’d been in pretty good shape up until then. But not long after she was admitted—on the very day my mom went to visit her—her condition suddenly took a turn, and that was it.”
The way he spoke about her death was eerily calm. Detached. Not like someone whose grief had faded with time, but like someone who’d never truly felt it. Even his jet-black eyes were unreadable, without a flicker of emotion.
“Since then, even when I’m sick, I never show it. Not in front of anyone.”
He added with a small smile and a light tone,
“I always thought if I went to the hospital, I’d end up like her.”
Go Hoon didn’t know how to respond. There were no words that felt appropriate in the face of someone who could talk about a family member’s death like it was someone else’s story. And beyond that, there was something about it that didn’t quite sit right.
So he hides his pain because of that? Sure, that kind of trauma could leave a mark on a kid—but wasn’t this a little extreme?
“Not everyone who goes to the hospital dies, you know. I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Maybe.”
Jung-yoon responded without resistance, nodding slightly.
“Then let me tell you one more story.”
Go Hoon looked at him quietly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
“When I was a kid, my mom had a cat.”
A cat? The unexpected direction made Go Hoon furrow his brows slightly. Jung-yoon’s expression didn’t change as he continued.
“One day, it started getting sick. We never found out why. Even now, I don’t know. But I do remember one thing vividly.”
“What was it?”
“The day my mom said she was taking the cat to the hospital… was the last time I ever saw it.”
He fell silent, just staring at Go Hoon. There was something oddly deliberate in the way he looked at him—like he was waiting to see how he’d react, or maybe just taking in his face with new eyes.
What is he trying to say?
Go Hoon sat there in silence, caught between uncertainty and a sense that he was on the verge of grasping something.
“…Maybe that was just a coincidence.”
But right now, that was all he could say.
“Maybe.”
Jung-yoon echoed the word softly, almost like he was tasting it. Then he gave a faint laugh.
“Yeah, maybe.”
He didn’t bother disagreeing. It was like he didn’t see the point in convincing anyone of anything.
“But this is how I live.”
“Worrying about things before they happen?”
“Yeah. I’m the most important thing in my life.”
He nodded without even the slightest hesitation.
“Hoon, you know something? They say predators never show signs of pain—not even when they’re dying. Because the moment they do, they get cast out.”
Bae Jung-yoon’s answers always felt like riddles. The more they talked, the more unknowable he became.
Why would a person choose to live like a beast? Maybe his life wasn’t as happy or whole as Go Hoon had assumed.
He wanted to dig deeper. But reason held him back.
Don’t get involved too deeply.
A warning flared up in his mind, smothering all other thoughts. And yet, even as that caution screamed, one question refused to go quiet.
“Then why’d you try to stop me back then?”
If he really only cared about himself, Why had he jumped off the cliff for him during the MT accident?
