DP Episode 119

Episode 119

Seo-joon and Yeon-woo returned to the center after picking up sushi from a Japanese restaurant and buying Jeong-woo’s favorite bread.

“What should we do after lunch?” Yeon-woo asked.

“Let’s start with the department store,” Seo-joon replied, his gaze sweeping over Yeon-woo’s outfit. The school uniform under his long padded coat seemed to bother him.

“We need to get you out of that uniform before our date.”

“See, that’s why I said I should’ve skipped school today. Then I wouldn’t have worn this uniform…”

“And now you’re getting new clothes because of it.”

“You already bought me a lot of new clothes last time.”

Yeon-woo gently touched his recently purchased padded coat. Normally, he would’ve braved winter with just a single fleece hoodie, but now he had a brand-new coat—a first for him.

While Jeong-woo, who was always in the hospital, regularly received new coats, Yeon-woo himself had made do with hand-me-downs or endured the cold with a thin hoodie.

“Let’s get more. Last time, it was a padded coat. This time, we’ll get you a proper overcoat.”

“I wish we were the same size. Then I wouldn’t need new clothes; I could just wear yours.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Do you think I’d let you borrow my clothes just because they fit?”

Seo-joon grinned playfully, and Yeon-woo, trying not to be obvious, watched his face carefully. Just this morning, Seo-joon had been so unstable, but now he seemed perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened over the past few days.

“….”

Moments like these made Yeon-woo feel distant from his older and more composed partner.

‘If only I could see what’s going on inside the lieutenant’s mind.’

Though they had met seven years ago, they had only grown close less than six months ago. Yeon-woo still didn’t know much about Seo-joon. When Seo-joon decided to hide something, Yeon-woo lacked the experience to notice.

“Don’t feel pressured about me buying you clothes,” Seo-joon started, “I do it because I enjo—”

Thunk! A loud slam came from the direction of Colonel Jin’s office, followed by faint shouting. The voices belonged to Colonel Jin and Cheong-oh.

“Wow, it sounds like they’re fighting,” Yeon-woo said, looking toward the office at the end of the hallway.

The door burst open as though it might break, and Cheong-oh stormed out. From inside, Colonel Jin’s furious voice rang out clearly.

“Who the hell taught you to swear at your father like that?”

“Who else? You did!” Cheong-oh shouted back.

Yeon-woo, startled, glanced at Seo-joon, who grabbed his arm.

“…Let’s take another route, Yeon-woo,” Seo-joon said quietly.

Yeon-woo nodded, letting Seo-joon lead him away. Behind them, the heated argument continued to escalate.

“Jin Cheong-oh! No matter what you say, you’re just a cowardly bystander—!”

“Bystander? A bystander is still better than a murderer, you fu—”

“What did you just say, you little—!”

Seo-joon’s pace quickened, and Yeon-woo hurried to keep up as they descended the stairs. Whatever the fight was about, it seemed too serious to intervene in.

…A choice made on his own… hundreds of lives… no courage to stop it! If you stand by… absolution isn’t possible… Gates… the first to celebrate…!

The fragments of their argument grew faint and eventually faded altogether. Seo-joon continued walking toward Jeong-woo’s hospital room, and Yeon-woo followed, glancing at their joined hands. Seo-joon’s palm was damp with sweat.

The moment the hospital room door opened, a small figure came running toward them, dragging an IV stand along behind. Startled, Yeon-woo let go of Seo-joon’s hand to grab the IV tubing and steady the stand, worried that Jeong-woo’s reckless dash might cause a mishap.

✽✽✽

“Lieutenant, I really don’t have any reason to wear clothes like these…”

Seo-joon held a tie up to Yeon-woo’s neck before switching to another color and trying again.

“You’ll need them eventually. After you graduate and start living in society, there’ll be plenty of occasions for formalwear—weddings, funerals, you name it.”

“…But do I really need to buy them now?”

Yeon-woo glanced at the pile of shopping bags stacked in the corner of the sofa. It started with casual clothes to replace his school uniform for the day, followed by an expensive watch, shoes, a wallet, and now a suit. Seo-joon seemed desperate to buy him anything and everything.

Yeon-woo couldn’t tell if this was Seo-joon’s usual idea of a date or if something about his mood had shifted, making today an exception.

After making their way through the entire department store, Seo-joon finally loaded the mountain of bags into the car’s trunk. For someone like Yeon-woo, who was used to fretting over every 500 or 1,000 won, watching that much money be spent in a single day was surreal—especially knowing it was all spent on him.

“This is a graduation gift, so don’t feel pressured.”

“With this much, I feel like I should graduate a hundred times over.”

“Even all this together doesn’t measure up to the size of my feelings. A single gift just doesn’t cut it, so take it happily, okay?”

“…Then I’ll pay for this one.”

“I already paid.”

Yeon-woo’s mouth dropped open. For the second time, he found himself in a high-end restaurant that charged as much for its tiny course dishes as the number of zeros on the bill suggested. The first time had been when Seo-joon proposed to him.

“Lieutenant, this is too much! I can use my card, you know. I’m an adult—I even have two cards!”

Seo-joon simply laughed at Yeon-woo’s exaggerated complaint. ‘This is really too much…’

While he couldn’t match Seo-joon’s level of generosity, Yeon-woo always tried to return kindness in the best way he could.

“You’re so strange, Yeon-woo.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re family, aren’t we? My money is your money, and your money is mine. You bought all this today. No need to thank me.”

“…Even family members manage their finances separately.”

Seo-joon burst out laughing at Yeon-woo’s serious response. Yeon-woo couldn’t understand what was so funny. Keeping his tone earnest, he continued.

“I’m saving up so I can buy you whatever you want one day. So please don’t touch my money.”

Yeon-woo gripped Seo-joon’s hand tightly as he finished speaking, carefully scraping some tuna from his amuse-bouche plate. Removing the truffle oil Seo-joon didn’t like, he offered him the small piece of tuna.

“…Your dimples are really showing today, Lieutenant,” Yeon-woo remarked as he watched Seo-joon eat.

“Dimples?”

Yeon-woo traced his thumb along Seo-joon’s cheekbone, just below his left eye.

“Here. Didn’t you know you have one?”

Seo-joon chuckled, looking bemused.

“I don’t have anything like that.”

“You do.”

Yeon-woo pulled out his wallet, the brand-new one Seo-joon had bought him at the department store. With nothing else inside, it held a single photo.

“Look at this.”

Seo-joon squinted at the Polaroid of him and Jeong-woo but shook his head.

“I still don’t see it. I’ve never heard anyone say I have dimples.”

“Then I guess they’re just for me to see. Maybe I love you so much that I notice things no one else does.”

Seo-joon’s gray eyes shifted from the photo to Yeon-woo. Meeting his gaze, Yeon-woo smiled softly, hoping Seo-joon would find him even more endearing in that moment.

“…”

But Seo-joon didn’t react as usual. The conversation kept breaking off, leaving a heavy silence Yeon-woo couldn’t quite understand.

With a faint, almost pained expression, Seo-joon leaned in and kissed him.

“…This is bad,” he murmured.

Peck, peck. His lips brushed against Yeon-woo’s mouth, cheek, and nose in quick succession.

“You’re too beautiful, Yeon-woo. …You’re making me greedy.”

“It’s not enough, Lieutenant. I want you to be even greedier,” Yeon-woo replied. Seo-joon chuckled, the low sound rumbling softly. Seeing the smile return to Seo-joon’s face, Yeon-woo felt relieved, brushing aside the awkwardness he’d sensed earlier.

Ding. Both of their phones chimed simultaneously, the familiar sound of a disaster alert. Danger Level 4. A small-scale Gate had opened at a cultural center in District 6.

The silence in the SAU group chat suggested there wasn’t an immediate need for deployment. Yeon-woo slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to Seo-joon.

“…”

Seo-joon’s phone still displayed the disaster alert message. Normally, he didn’t bother reading them unless they were deployment orders. Something felt off.

The faint blue glow of the screen reflected in his eyes, which stared at the message for far too long, flickering with unease.