45.
Light, buoyant footsteps, floating happily, were clearly visible through the cafe window. He was even waving the slip of paper with his name on it like a medal. Seeing him gradually opening up at twenty-eight, doing things he would have never done at eighteen… honestly, for someone who had watched Ryu Ho-yeon’s growth process from the sidelines, it was heartwarming.
“Why did you do that?”
Lee Jung-hyuk casually asked while tracing the condensation on his newly ordered coffee cup with his fingertip. Kim Jun-young rested his chin on one hand and grinned, saying it was fun.
“You’re so mischievous. You were planning to give it to Ryu Ho-yeon’s team anyway. Couldn’t you have just given it to them with a smile from the beginning?”
“No way. We need to make a show of it so Ryu Ho-yeon knows to be grateful to his hyungs. If we’d just handed it over, would he be that happy?”
“Hmm… since he’s going to see Lee Han-seo, I think he would have been just as happy.”
Kim Jun-young, currently serving as the Acting Team Leader, was the first to receive the official invitation sent by Lee Han-seo and Park Woo-jun through the United Nations. As soon as they confirmed the invitation, Kim Jun-young and Lee Jung-hyuk had already agreed to give the opportunity to Ryu Ho-yeon.
Though they had known each other for so long that mentioning the age difference seemed unnecessary, the two were still significantly older than Ryu Ho-yeon and Choi Jae-won. They had taken extended leave coinciding with Kim Jun-young’s resignation as Commissioner, and before dungeon outbreaks became so intense, they had created many memories traveling together on matching days off. They had accumulated enough experiences to generously yield this opportunity to their beloved dongsaeng without any regrets.
When Kim Jun-young and Lee Jung-hyuk first met Ryu Ho-yeon, he was just a twelve-year-old kid. Still small for his age then as now, if they had met without knowing he was the same age as Lee Han-seo, they would have thought he was around nine.
From that time until Lee Han-seo met Park Woo-jun and gave up his position as a potential Guide, Ryu Ho-yeon mostly stuck to Lee Han-seo like a shadow, neither smiling nor crying, just expressionlessly maintaining his position. Like a houseplant that follows the sun. That doll-like child was consistently lifeless whether you looked at him this way or that. Unable to smile, he naturally couldn’t cry either. It wasn’t that he couldn’t feel emotions, but that he never properly learned how to express them. Probably because he was confined in such a narrow place even during the period when explosive emotional development should have occurred.
At that time, both Kim Jun-young and Lee Jung-hyuk were busy struggling with their own burdens and unresolved traumas, but even so, they were concerned about Ryu Ho-yeon, who remained as expressionless as a doll that was merely breathing.
It was different from Lee Han-seo. Lee Han-seo’s situation was equally pitiful, but at least he could express his emotions honestly, confident that even if separated, society and family would protect him like a solid fence.
This wasn’t about ranking who was more unfortunate or pitiful. It’s just that from the perspective of hyungs who were at least ten years older, the different forms of crosses that both younger brothers carried were all heartbreaking.
Now, seeing that child grown up so much, raising his voice with a human-like presence, was both amazing and endearing.
Perhaps that’s why Kim Jun-young kept wanting to tease and provoke him. Though having learned from watching Lee Han-seo and Kim Jun-young nearby, he seemed to have developed the bad habit of getting irritated first whenever calculations went wrong.
“Ryu Ho-yeon has grown a lot, Jung-hyuk.”
He murmured in a rather proud tone, lightly shaking the remaining slips that the employee hadn’t drawn. Though the person involved wouldn’t have known, both slips had only Ryu Ho-yeon’s name written on them. This cafe was one Kim Jun-young and Lee Jung-hyuk frequented often. They were familiar enough with the staff to request this level of cooperation.
While the twelve-year-old Ryu Ho-yeon had turned twenty-eight, Kim Jun-young, who had been in his early twenties, was now approaching forty, yet somehow his mental age perfectly matched that of the younger ones. Lee Jung-hyuk’s response was mixed with a heavy sigh.
“You’re the one who needs to grow up, hyung.”
“Aren’t I grown enough? Could you handle it if I grew any more?”
“Hah…”
He knows that the lazy drawl is intentionally meant to provoke him. Knowing this, he still falls for it every time. Lee Jung-hyuk gulped down his ice-filled coffee in one go. By now, he just accepts it as his fate.
* * *
“…”
Ryu Ho-yeon, with all his might concentrated in his gaze, moved his pen carefully with a serious expression. Choi Jae-won struggled to hold back laughter, wondering if anyone else would fill out a routine immigration form with such gravity. When he was a civilian, he didn’t remember having to complete a separate immigration form when entering Germany, but becoming an ability user made the procedures much stricter.
For Ryu Ho-yeon, who was flying for the first time, the days leading up to departure were spent diligently studying all kinds of videos without missing a day. From various entry and exit vlogs uploaded by ordinary people on video platforms to travel programs that broadcasting companies had competitively produced during a past trend. Choi Jae-won’s assumption that he’d watch just a couple was merely a muggle’s naive perspective. Ryu Ho-yeon absorbed information like a sponge, saving even his sleeping time—watching one broadcasting station’s program on his pad, a famous SNS star’s vlog on his phone, and holding a renowned writer’s travel essay in his other hand.
If forced to categorize him as introverted or extroverted, anyone would say Ryu Ho-yeon was clearly the former. As Kim Jun-young said, he had indeed considered indirect experiences of travel through a monitor screen sufficient until now. Naturally, the most comfortable and best place in the world was indeed the bed in his room at their quarters.
But why? Once the decision to leave was made, once the date was confirmed and he had his first passport and plane ticket with his name printed on them, he became restless all day like a puppy with urgent business. What if it gets canceled? What if something unexpected happens on the way? He couldn’t bear the anxiety. This was evidence that Ryu Ho-yeon valued this journey, his first experience, that much.
Perhaps travel was like the sour grapes he had been looking at for a long time. Ryu Ho-yeon finally humbly admitted this while repeatedly packing and unpacking his luggage in the carrier he had bought for the first time in his life. Otherwise, how could simply packing and repacking luggage be so enjoyable when he hadn’t even departed yet?
Even though purchasing such a large carrier was merely wasteful since he could materialize whatever he needed at any time. Wasting time and energy gladly just for joy and excitement, without thinking about efficiency and rules, was unimaginably fun.
Until now, he had never had the right to move freely outside this country. Not just the country—even going beyond the Center’s main gate was something he had first experienced only after Choi Jae-won arrived.
Perhaps he had unconsciously realized that once the desire to go out arose, it would become unbearably painful. But that’s all in the past now. He had no intention of dwelling on a past he didn’t want to recall.
Now for Ryu Ho-yeon, this world had become sufficiently beautiful and worth living in.
The freedom and indulgence allowed to Ryu Ho-yeon had been limited to adjusting the dosing intervals of guiding substitutes according to his condition, or deciding whether to watch movies, dramas, or read novels while holed up in his living space in a corner of the lab. When did such a miraculous change occur? The scope of freedom given to him now, although lacking compared to ordinary people with no obligations, was nevertheless incomparably larger and wider than before!
His first airport, first airplane, first ability user-specific immigration form—all were equally wonderful, but the highlight was undoubtedly the vast landscape spread out beyond the airplane window, cutting through the night. Choi Jae-won gladly gave up the window seat.
The dark purple and navy clouds, scattered like dots, were spread out softly like a carpet. The bright moonlight seemed to shine more ecstatically than the midday sun. It was an overwhelming beauty that couldn’t possibly be compared to the empty void he had endlessly encountered in his nightmares.
Throughout the flight, he didn’t catch a wink of sleep, too busy marveling at everything he saw and heard. Finding this more fascinating, Choi Jae-won woke up and asked if he wasn’t bored, if he wasn’t tired considering this long-distance flight was his first. Ryu Ho-yeon, still gazing at the magnificent night sky outside the window, gave an irrelevant answer.
“I think I did well to stay alive.”
“…Suddenly?”
“Yeah. Indeed… there’s a reason why obsessive fans can’t think straight when they fall for their idols.”
Isn’t it the role of the idol to introduce the true taste of MSG to obsessive fans who only drink Evian water and nibble on salads?
He had already experienced countless times that he couldn’t be an obsessive fan, and that Choi Jae-won wasn’t suited to be an idol, but suddenly that thought came to mind.
For someone who decorates a bleak, monochrome world so colorfully… how could one not fall for them?
Ah. The world was truly worth living in once. He’d done well to stubbornly stay alive, shameless as it was.
