Seo Jae-ha went back into the convenience store, grabbed a fruit-flavored soda, and handed it to Su-min. As if completely caught off guard, Su-min’s eyes widened before he gave a small bow.
“Thank you….”
“Is that good enough for you?”
“Yes, more than enough.”
At the firm reply, Jae-ha chuckled softly and cracked his own can open with a pull of the tab. A moment later, Su-min followed suit, and when Jae-ha nudged his can forward, the light clink of aluminum rang out as they tapped together. To prove his point, Su-min immediately tilted back his can. His throat moved steadily—gulp, gulp—like someone parched beyond measure.
“Were you that thirsty?”
“Huh? Oh, no. It just tastes really different.”
“First time having it?”
Su-min nodded. It was a big-name brand, though. Jae-ha teased him lightly.
“You really don’t know much. What, did you grow up in the middle of nowhere?”
“…Does it show?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Is he serious? Jae-ha eyed him, puzzled. He didn’t seem like the type to joke, which only made it stranger.
“Why do you look down?”
So he remembered what Ji-hyang said earlier. They probably shouldn’t have let the kid overhear that. Jae-ha shrugged. He couldn’t exactly tell a freshman he only shared an elective with that he’d confessed, lost his cool, and gotten rejected all at once.
“It’s nothing.”
“Does it have to do with that residue that was stuck to me?”
“Huh?”
Right, Su-min had mentioned that before. He really was like Hae-hyun—able to see things. Jae-ha found himself oddly impressed again, while Su-min studied him seriously, even brushing a hand lightly along his arm. But then his usually calm face scrunched slightly, as though displeased by what he sensed.
Come to think of it, even Hae-hyun hadn’t figured out what this curse actually was. Jae-ha had been so distracted by everything else that he’d almost forgotten. Am I really stuck living with this curse I don’t even understand? For life? The thought made his expression harden.
“Does it hurt you?”
“No. Honestly, most of the time I forget it’s even there…. But you said before there was a way, right? If I use it, would I end up getting hurt?”
“What?”
Su-min’s eyes widened in shock. He shook his head violently, like someone denying something outrageous.
“No. You’d never get hurt.”
He was so serious about it that it almost made Jae-ha uncomfortable. He lifted the lid off the cup ramen instead. Perfect timing—it was ready.
“Eat. It’s done.”
Su-min took a big bite of the chewy noodles, paused briefly, then started devouring them at breakneck speed. Was he really that hungry? He ate like someone who hadn’t had a meal in days.
Just then, a group of women walked past them into the store. High-pitched laughter, likely fueled by drinks, spilled out like background music before fading again, punctuated by the jingle of the bell on the door.
“Slow down. Want mine too?”
Jae-ha, who barely had an appetite, pushed his cup toward him after only one bite. Su-min didn’t hesitate, bowing his head gratefully before digging in. He’d already had kimbap earlier too. Didn’t expect him to eat this much.
Sitting there, Su-min was smaller and shorter than Jae-ha, so when he leaned forward just a little, the crown of his head was clearly visible. Jae-ha found his gaze lingering on the swirl of hair at the back before asking,
“So… will you tell me what that method actually is?”
Su-min, still absorbed in eating, lifted his head. His eyes glimmered faintly as he fixed them on Jae-ha.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay with it?”
Something in the way he said it made Jae-ha frown slightly. It was just a simple question, but for some reason, saying yes felt like it would trigger something he couldn’t take back.
And stranger still—until now Su-min had seemed completely normal, but suddenly there was something uncanny about him. Almost… inhuman.
At that moment, the bell jingled and a voice called out.
“Excuse me.”
They turned to see a well-dressed young woman standing at their table. She looked older than Su-min, but younger than Jae-ha, and her gaze lingered shyly on him.
“Yes?”
“Sorry, but… what perfume do you wear? I caught a whiff before you came in, and it smelled amazing. If you don’t mind sharing….”
Almost instinctively, Jae-ha glanced toward the glass door. A small group of women—her friends, probably—were watching them. When his eyes met theirs, they quickly looked away.
“Sorry, but I don’t wear perfume.”
Her eyes went wide at that answer. She stammered nervously.
“R-Really? But you smell so good….”
“…Thanks?”
Jae-ha dipped his head with a polite smile. Though she lingered a moment, she finally bowed and turned back inside. As soon as she rejoined her group, there was a burst of chatter, though deliberately hushed as if to avoid being overheard.
Turning back, he found Su-min still staring at the store, gaze locked and unyielding. Jae-ha waved a hand lightly.
“Su-min. Hey, Su-min?”
At last, his focus snapped back, and he answered, slightly flustered.
“Oh—yes.”
“Sorry about that. You were asking if I’d be okay, right?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, if there’s a way, I want to know it.”
But even with that clear response, Su-min didn’t continue. Instead, he kept glancing between Jae-ha and the store, his face oddly blank, like the earlier conversation had completely slipped his mind. Then, out of nowhere, he asked,
“Does this kind of thing happen to you a lot?”
“What kind of thing?”
“People saying you smell good and striking up conversations.”
Where’s this coming from? Still, Jae-ha answered honestly.
“From time to time?”
Su-min’s expression froze. He looked like he was swallowing down a sudden surge of anger. What’s with him now? Jae-ha frowned slightly at the inexplicable mood, when he heard Su-min mutter, voice low and unsettling.
“If I’d known this would happen….”
“Hm? What?”
The rest was too faint to catch. And it seemed Su-min didn’t even hear Jae-ha, continuing to mutter under his breath.
“…waste of time… no good. I’ll have to hurry….”
“Su-min, are you okay?”
Jae-ha waved again. That finally startled him into awareness, as if he’d only just remembered who was in front of him. For someone so quiet in class, his reactions outside were surprisingly unpredictable.
“Hyung, I should get going.”
“So suddenly?”
“Yeah. Something came up.”
Su-min pushed to his feet like he might bolt immediately, clutching his bag and coat in a rush.
Jae-ha got up too, tidying their things. No point in sitting outside once Su-min left.
“I’ll come with you. I was about ready to head home anyway.”
By the time they finished, it was nearly one in the morning. I wonder if Hae-hyun’s asleep. Can he really sleep so easily after saying something like that? The thought brought a flicker of resentment as Jae-ha offered his goodbye.
“See you in class.”
“Hyung.”
Without warning, Su-min stepped close. So close they nearly collided, and Jae-ha flinched in surprise—only to feel long arms wrap tightly around his waist and back.
“Su-min?”
“Just… let me stay like this for a bit.”
Used to casual contact, Jae-ha’s body relaxed instinctively. He didn’t hug back, but he didn’t push him away either. Su-min pressed in closer, cheek against his collarbone, breathing in deeply. The faint, sweet scent of grass rose from his skin.
No. This won’t do. I need to change the plan. In that moment, Su-min’s resolve hardened.
…What the hell? Trapped in his arms, Jae-ha could only stare, thrown off balance by his junior’s sudden unpredictability.
Maybe it was fortunate the hour was so late. If anyone had witnessed this surprise hug on the street, tomorrow someone would be asking, “Hyung, were you on a date near campus last night?” But Su-min seemed completely unconcerned, holding on for a long moment before finally letting go.
“That’s enough.”
“What is?”
“For now, this will do.”
The words carried a strange sense of familiarity. Like the puppy that used to crawl into Jae-ha’s bed every night until it fell asleep against him. The thought drifted by, and Jae-ha asked,
“Su-min, can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Are you….”
Both of them froze mid-sentence. Jae-ha shut his mouth and turned toward the dark campus buildings. A faint chill crept over him, laced with the acrid scent of smoke. The flow of energy carried with it a sharp, almost spicy tang.
The same scent he’d caught back at the MT.
