37.
While Ryu Ho-yeon and Choi Jae-won remained in a subtle standoff, unable to either advance or retreat in their relationship, time steadily flowed on. The world was generally peaceful enough. It was certainly peaceful in the sense that it hadn’t completely perished yet, even as it steadily raced toward the end.
“Hyung. I’m heading out.”
“Go or don’t, do whatever you want.”
And now twenty-eight-year-old Ryu Ho-yeon had grown accustomed to treating twenty-three-year-old Choi Jae-won more coldly. This was the aftermath of the matching rate improvement experiments that were still consistently ongoing.
For two years, Choi Jae-won had proven himself to be truly Lee Han-seo’s cousin by not yielding his firm intention even slightly, not the tiniest bit, and pushing through his stubborn will. The statement that cousins are still siblings was proven by the fact that neither of them had particularly good personalities.
“Come on, you know I’m going there to get hurt. Can’t you at least show your face and say goodbye properly?”
“Who told you to go? I only remember trying to dissuade you. If you feel wronged, you could just not go.”
Choi Jae-won, who had settled into being the “damned person who I wish wouldn’t be damned” from Ryu Ho-yeon’s highly subjective and emotional perspective, didn’t even try to hide it anymore when he punched his time card at the laboratory. It was a truly bold attitude—there was nothing to worry about since the person he most wanted to hide it from had discovered it long ago.
Standing at the front door, just putting on his coat, Choi Jae-won quickly turned around and entered the living room, hearing Ryu Ho-yeon’s tone, which was always sharp but seemed especially cutting today. Ryu Ho-yeon was lying down in front of a large humidifier designed in the form of a fireplace that took up an entire wall, watching the orange mist rise like flames.
Though he generally stayed cooped up in his room, after the conflict arose between them, it had become so severe that they could barely face each other except when performing guiding or going on missions. Wanting to somehow draw him out of his room to at least enjoy that precious face from the side, Choi Jae-won had installed something he thought would interest him, and the effect was almost too good.
Since the fireplace humidifier was installed, Ryu Ho-yeon had retrieved the multi-million won speakers that had been stashed away in the storage room, playing fireplace sound ASMR through them while lying just like that in front of the humidifier for hours, not moving from the same position as he devoured comic books.
What was draped over his back like a turtle shell, completely at odds with the flawless interior that Choi Jae-won had meticulously selected without a single scratch or error, was a microfiber blanket. It was so old that the pilling hung like original decorations. This worn blanket, which he had used since he was very young, had survived until today despite Choi Jae-won’s numerous attempts to throw it away, thwarted by vigilant monitoring and wariness.
Ryu Ho-yeon never seemed to tire of it; whenever the weather turned chilly, he would stealthily retrieve the microfiber blanket that he had hidden deep inside the walk-in closet to keep it out of Choi Jae-won’s sight. Then, until the weather became completely warm again, he would live at home essentially becoming one with the blanket like this. He wouldn’t even part with it during contact guiding, which meant that Choi Jae-won had found himself rolling around on this blanket, the very item he most wanted to discard, several times.
“…What are you doing? Aren’t you going? Have you finally decided not to go?”
It seemed strange that there was still no sound of shoes being put on or the door opening, even though it had been a while since he had said he was leaving. Poking just his head out from the blanket pile and awkwardly looking behind him, Ryu Ho-yeon grumpily asked Choi Jae-won, who had come back in after starting to put on his coat. Him speaking grumpily to Choi Jae-won was nothing new, so it shouldn’t have been unusual. The problem was that his voice sounded completely drained of energy.
The last contact guiding had been two days ago, and Ryu Ho-yeon hadn’t gone into any battles since. He hadn’t even gone to the workshop, so he hadn’t used his abilities. It couldn’t be a guiding deficiency. So why did he look so low on energy? Could it be, again…
“Hyung. Did you have that dream again?”
“…”
“You did have that dream.”
“Hmph.”
Ryu Ho-yeon snorted and quickly turned his head away again. He fixed his gaze back on the steaming fireplace humidifier. How could a person be so much like a cat?
Choi Jae-won, with a faint smile on his lips, lowered himself and strongly embraced Ryu Ho-yeon, blanket and all. Normally, this would have been met with words like “Stop your nonsense and get lost, will you?” but Ryu Ho-yeon found the strong arms holding him comfortable and just let himself be held without saying anything.
Ryu Ho-yeon’s nightmare, whose content Choi Jae-won didn’t fully know, visited him regularly like a loan shark coming to collect interest just when he thought he could forget about it. Some days, the dream wasn’t too difficult, and he would just be a bit dazed right after waking up before quickly coming to his senses; other days, he would be subtly dejected like this, with the effects lasting all day.
Choi Jae-won comforted the dejected Ryu Ho-yeon with practiced hands. He could feel through the blanket the moment when the stiffly tensed muscles in his shoulders and neck subtly relaxed.
“Hyung. Instead of being like this, why don’t you go for some counseling…”
“Don’t need it.”
“If you’re worried about word getting out, we can find someone trustworthy through our family doctor. The recurring nightmares could be due to stress.”
“A cat caring about a mouse? How veeeery touching. If you’re so worried about me that you can’t live with yourself, why don’t you kick out that damned Dr. An first? I think the source of my stress might be something specific.”
A cotton fist wrapped in the blanket struck Choi Jae-won’s shoulder with what was meant to be fierceness. Choi Jae-won just laughed, “Haha,” welcoming Ryu Ho-yeon’s seemingly recovering state.
For two years, they hadn’t been able to resolve their fundamental conflict. Not just Ryu Ho-yeon, but Kim Jun-young and Lee Jung-hyuk who sided with him, and even Lee Han-seo from a distant foreign country, had all tried to dissuade Choi Jae-won in unison, but to no avail. He wasn’t a farm ox—how could they further restrict the actions of a full-grown adult without forcibly dragging him by putting a nose ring on him?
Still, time was on Choi Jae-won’s side, as they spent 24 hours together unless something special came up. Ryu Ho-yeon had no choice but to get used to daily life with Choi Jae-won. In reality, the frequency with which he showed his sharp edges had increased much more than two years ago, but there was a level of comfort and intimacy between them that made that time pale in comparison. It was the result of both of them compromising a step.
Ryu Ho-yeon did not use force or any means at his disposal to compel Choi Jae-won’s actions. Choi Jae-won maintained his kind attitude and thoughtful tenderness but avoided direct expressions of affection toward Ryu Ho-yeon as much as possible. He had come to understand, if not fully accept, how fiercely the burden of actions with reasons like “because I love you” or “I’ll do more for you” tormented Ryu Ho-yeon.
In the world, there were countless people who would face threats greater than death even for someone they didn’t particularly love, if paid sufficiently. His grandfather, who had been especially fond of Choi Jae-won since childhood, would occasionally impart such teachings while sitting his young grandson on his knee. He said that countless people would come forward ready to do anything for him in the future, and that he should spend money generously on such people. That a wall of humans solidly built with money and gold would ultimately protect him.
If that was the case, then voluntarily stepping forward with just the subjective motivation of love, without receiving money or any other guaranteed compensation… Wasn’t that a sufficiently noble and respectable act?
Choi Jae-won, who had grown up thinking it natural for others to sacrifice for him, genuinely thought so. He had never voiced these inner thoughts aloud, knowing that Ryu Ho-yeon, who acted somewhat obsessively about moral matters, would likely look at him like an insect.
“Just a little bit more. Please wait just a little longer. We hit 78 percent just last week. We just need to raise it 2 percent more.”
He speaks of 2 percent as easily as naming someone’s pet dog, even though it took two years to raise it by 3 percent. Ryu Ho-yeon was about to throw another barb, but upon seeing Choi Jae-won’s rough hands covered all over with tiny scar marks, he promptly shut his mouth.
