“What?”
Hamin shouted, clearly flustered. He stared at Sihyeon in disbelief, his lips twitching. Shock blended perfectly across his blood-drained face.
“Was Yoo Seowoo not enough for you?”
“What are you even saying?”
Sihyeon grimaced at the half-joking, half-serious remark.
“Do you think I want to be carried? It’s just that you carrying me is the most efficient option. You know that too.”
“…You’d definitely get aggro for free.”
“Right?”
“……”
Hamin frowned, visibly conflicted. For efficiency’s sake, even if it didn’t look great, carrying Sihyeon was the best option. It prevented aggro from spreading, and even without provoking, enemies would naturally target them—how convenient was that?
Hamin’s skill, at least, was undeniable. Even if aggro focused on him while carrying Sihyeon, it seemed like he could still manage hit-and-run timing properly and trade damage effectively.
“I mean… I could carry you too….”
“If hyung uses Stealth, it’s way more efficient, though.”
“…Yeah.”
Haru, who had quietly raised his hand, slowly lowered it again. If he had ears, they would’ve been drooping. Meanwhile, Hamin still hadn’t reached a decision, so Sihyeon spun the pen in his hand once.
Even if he hesitated, what could he do? If there were a department called Lee Hamin Psychological Analysis, Sihyeon would graduate top of the class.
“Not confident?”
“What?”
“If you’re not, then forget it. We can look for another method, or just take the less efficient route and have Haru hyung carry me instead. If you can’t do it, just say so.”
“When did I say I can’t?”
A little provocation, and there it was—an immediate reaction. As expected. When asked if he could do it, Hamin quickly answered that he would. Unfortunately, it seemed Lee Hamin didn’t realize just how simple he actually was.
Having gotten what he wanted, Sihyeon moved his hand again.
“Then we don’t have to worry about tanking. I’ll be carried by Lee Hamin. Ha Yeon and Hajin, you two stay back and keep your distance. Focus only on support without drawing unnecessary aggro. Kang Haeun, you too—stay out of the way, fly or whatever, then use buffs and debuffs at the right timing. And don’t mess around like before.”
“Yesss~”
…Not reassuring at all.
Watching Haeun answer brightly with suspicion, Sihyeon confirmed that the rough position assignments were done and set his pen down. Just then, the bell rang, signaling mealtime. Promising to meet in the training room after eating, they left the meeting room. As soon as they stepped out, Haeun kicked off the ground and quickly caught up beside Sihyeon.
“What do you think about this team?”
“Not bad.”
“Right, right? I like Shin Yijae the most.”
“What about your beloved Lee Hamin?”
“Min-i’s cute too, but Yijae has that younger-boy charm, you know?”
“Wow, you’ve really lost it.”
As Sihyeon and Haeun bantered while subtly teasing Hamin, Hamin clicked his tongue and let out a sigh. Sihyeon, feeling like he’d finally repaid the teasing he’d endured over the past two weeks, headed toward the cafeteria.
Once inside, the others who came with him went to grab plates—but Sihyeon was an exception. He was practically dragged along by Haeun as they walked deeper into the cafeteria. The window-side table he had first taken with Haru on day one had, at some point, become known as Class A’s designated seating. Plates filled with all kinds of food were already laid out there.
“You’re here?”
The one who had set out all that food greeted him with a gentle smile. Letting out a sigh at Seowoo, who naturally gestured for him to sit, Sihyeon slowly took his seat. At first, he’d been horrified, but after a few weeks of repetition, he had adapted. Humans really were creatures of habit.
“How’s your condition today?”
“I think I already said this morning that I’m fine.”
“That’d mean something if you hadn’t collapsed so many times after saying that.”
“……”
His conscience pricked sharply. Ever since he’d fainted three times from overexerting himself during Class Engraving, Yoo Seowoo had been using that against him whenever he got the chance. If Sihyeon refused side dishes, Seowoo would say, What if you collapse again? and make him eat. If he tried to refuse being taken care of, Seowoo would say, You’re trying to collapse again, aren’t you? and force him to accept every bit of kindness. It had seemed strange that Seowoo hadn’t said much right after the incidents, but he hadn’t expected him to milk it like this, like simmering bone broth. It was unfair and shameless, but a sinner had no right to speak.
“…I’ll eat, okay?”
As he picked up the plate subtly pushed toward him, Seowoo smiled. Holding his plate and fork, Sihyeon shot him a half-lidded glare.
What was he, a rabbit? Seowoo ate nothing but salads every time, yet here he was piling all kinds of food onto Sihyeon’s plate. As Sihyeon shoved a piece of meat into his mouth and chewed roughly, Seowoo—gracefully mixing his salad—spoke lazily.
“You should eat more. What if you get hungry again and start biting your lips?”
“Cough—!”
Mid-swallow, Sihyeon choked and covered his mouth, coughing. The food had clearly gone down the wrong pipe. As he coughed repeatedly, the culprit calmly slid a glass of water toward him. The corner of Seowoo’s lips curved upward—he looked thoroughly entertained.
And of all ways to phrase it like that.
Replaying the creepy wording in his head, Sihyeon frowned, his eyes reddened from coughing.
“Why are you still bringing that up?”
“It’s only been a little over two weeks, hasn’t it?”
“……”
“When you refused to hold my hand, I didn’t expect you’d give me such a reward for holding back.”
His languid voice flowed at an unhurried pace. Just as Sihyeon was about to snap back, Haru, Hamin, and Haeun returned with their plates. If he said anything, he’d probably end up hearing that story again, so Sihyeon swallowed his words and only shot Seowoo a sharp look. In contrast, Seowoo narrowed his eyes slightly and let out a faint smile. The ambiguous expression—half-smile, half-not—was even more irritating.
So what if he fainted a few times?
Feeling his insides twist, Sihyeon gripped his fork tightly and stabbed a piece of meat with a sharp thunk. The fork pierced through and hit the plate, making a sound that caused Haeun to tilt his head.
“Sihyeon, are you mad about something?”
“Just annoyed.”
“Huh?”
When Sihyeon brushed it off vaguely, Haeun asked again. Ignoring him, Geonwoo—who had been staring at the two empty seats this whole time—finally spoke.
“They’re not coming anymore?”
His indifferent voice broke the moment. At that, everyone’s gaze shifted to the empty seats. There were eight chairs at the table, and Class A had always eaten together as eight—but not since Sihyeon collapsed.
Sihyeon glanced at the seats where Dawoon and Jihye used to sit, then rolled his eyes.
After leaving behind those ambiguous words that day, Dawoon had gotten up early during lunch the next day and started avoiding him. As if she knew they’d clash if they met, she deliberately kept her distance.
Jihye, who had been watching carefully, said she’d try to talk things out and had been sticking with Dawoon separately for two weeks now. By this point, Sihyeon thought they’d return—but instead, Dawoon barely even showed up in the cafeteria anymore. Sihyeon popped a piece of lettuce into his mouth.
“I’m sure she’s thinking about it.”
He muttered quietly, trying to swallow the stubborn lettuce—
“Sihyeon hyung!”
At the voice from the cafeteria entrance, everyone turned their heads. Shin Yijae stood there, calling out to him with an excited expression. Sihyeon blinked. Yoo Seowoo, who had been offering him more vegetables and meat even after he’d already finished a plate, noticed Yijae waving and hummed softly.
“Who’s that?”
“Someone I got teamed up with this time.”
“Didn’t you say the four of you are on the same team too?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. After briefly looking at Shin Yijae, he let out a small scoff and curved his lips.
“You keep bringing more and more in.”
“Huh?”
“I didn’t know I could be this patient.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Again, something incomprehensible. Frowning at Seowoo, who said things only he understood, Sihyeon received nothing but a smiling gaze in return. Instead of answering, Seowoo tapped Sihyeon’s plate with his fork—telling him to stop worrying about it and just eat.
Following the sound, Sihyeon lowered his gaze. His once-empty plate was full again. It was already his second plate, and he was full. When he showed reluctance, Seowoo’s platinum-colored gaze swept over his wrist.
“At this rate, you’ll collapse again.”
At Seowoo’s words, Geonwoo quietly placed a piece of meat from his own plate onto Sihyeon’s. Haru immediately held out the prawn he had been diligently peeling. Ever since Sihyeon had taught him how to peel shrimp a month ago and fed him one, Haru had been eating nothing but shrimp. The poorly peeled prawn was placed on the plate.
“……”
One handsome guy silently alternated his gaze between Sihyeon and the meat, while Haru started peeling another prawn.
That one would end up on his plate too. Sihyeon was certain.
Sure enough, another freshly peeled prawn was added. Realizing who knew how many would pile up if he held out any longer, Sihyeon picked his fork back up. A resolve he’d momentarily forgotten resurfaced, making his expression turn solemn.
I really need to get some proper tonic made. I’ll prove to them I’m healthy.
Determined, Sihyeon stabbed the prawn first. Geonwoo flinched slightly, and Haru, who had been peeling another, brightened when he saw one had disappeared.
“Sihyeon hyung!”
Shin Yijae, who had been ignored thanks to the food, called out again without losing energy. His voice was much closer now. Seeing that he had already come quite near, Sihyeon turned his gaze toward him, wondering what he wanted.
Yijae, visibly delighted, hurried over.
“Hyung, if you’re done eating, could you try syncing with me for a bit?”
“Sync?”
“Yes! I’ve only been thinking about it so far, so I want to try matching up as soon as possible.”
Judging by how excited he sounded, he wasn’t lying. Sihyeon glanced between the food on his plate and Shin Yijae. He hadn’t finished eating, but it wasn’t polite to keep someone waiting either. Finding an excuse, he glanced briefly at his lifeline, then slowly nodded.
“Sure.”
At his quiet reply, Shin Yijae beamed and grabbed Sihyeon’s arm, pulling him along. It happened so quickly that the others didn’t have time to stop him. Sihyeon, who had been pulled to his feet, glanced at the food in front of him before giving in and letting himself be dragged away. He greeted the others with a glance and let out a breath of relief.
I don’t have to finish all that.
Dealing with Shin Yijae might be a hassle, but they had to sync up at least once before the evaluation anyway. Thinking it was for the best, he tossed a casual see you later to the remaining group. Hamin let out a hollow laugh.
“Sihyeon got snatched!”
Haeun, who had missed him right in front of his eyes, sprang up a beat too late and shouted. Shin Yijae was already dragging Sihyeon quickly toward the entrance.
“Hyung, if you haven’t chosen your next partner yet, can I be it?”
Shin Yijae’s excited voice drifted faintly as they walked away. Clatter—the prawn Haru had been peeling dropped. Seowoo tapped the table lightly with his fingertips. His platinum gaze shifted to the plate still piled high with food.
“What’s he going to do tomorrow….”
Seowoo muttered, sounding almost pitiful. Feeling a chill, Hamin looked at Sihyeon—being dragged away by Shin Yijae—with sympathetic eyes.
Because Sihyeon hadn’t seen it—the way Haru stared blankly at the one remaining prawn, the meaningful smile on Seowoo’s lips, or the faint sulk on Geonwoo’s face.
And because he could already predict what was coming for him.
“Who told him to collapse like that?”
Those guys were already smoldering, and Kang Sihyeon was just pouring oil on the fire. Clicking his tongue, Hamin offered a brief moment of silence before eating the food Yoo Seowoo had brought.
