DP Episode 133

Episode 133

“Yeon-woo, has Seo-joon ever told you about his childhood? About the day he was first found on the streets?”

At Hee-min’s question, Yeon-woo nodded blankly.

“Yes… he has.”

“He mentioned how, for about a day, he couldn’t understand human language or recognize faces, right?”

The first face Seo-joon saw in the snowy field had been that of a nun. He had described her face as grotesque, unable to comprehend the concept of human features like eyes, noses, and mouths. It wasn’t until a full day later that he began to understand speech and recognize faces.

“That’s a common trait among no-nameds worldwide. Seo-joon took just a day, but for some, it took a week. Others needed over two weeks.”

“…”

“We’re guessing this might be something similar.”

Just as no-nameds needed time to comprehend human language and appearance when they first arrived on Earth, the newly born human Seo-joon might need time to reclaim his memories.

“The reason we think so is because everything else is perfectly normal. Brain wave signals, sensory organs, motor functions—there’s nothing wrong. It’s the same as other no-nameds who temporarily couldn’t communicate.”

Yeon-woo listened calmly, his gaze fixed on Seo-joon. The man, who had seemed terrified of Yeon-woo earlier, appeared to relax slightly now that Yeon-woo wasn’t approaching. His focus shifted back to the window, staring quietly.

“Seo-joon will come back soon. It won’t take long,” Hee-min said reassuringly.

Song-hee, seated nearby, stirred a bowl of liquid food. She made a soft hissing sound as she called Seo-joon’s attention. The sound had proven to be particularly effective in drawing his response. Slowly, Seo-joon opened his mouth as Song-hee brought a spoonful to his lips.

“I’ll do it,” Yeon-woo said, rising from his seat.

“Don’t approach too suddenly, Yeon—”

Hee-min began but stopped mid-sentence, his mouth falling open in disbelief. Yeon-woo, despite his unsteady condition, knelt on the floor and crawled toward Seo-joon. Clearly, he was mindful of Seo-joon’s wariness of larger individuals.

Even now, he pushed himself this far.

“Lieutenant… it’s me, Yeon-woo.”

Taking the bowl from Song-hee, Yeon-woo sat on the floor, curling into himself as much as possible. He didn’t dare touch Seo-joon, afraid it might startle him further. Instead, he simply looked up at him with desperate, pleading eyes.

“It’s Cha Yeon-woo, Lieutenant. I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

Though his red-rimmed eyes looked ready to spill tears at any moment, not a single drop fell, just as always. Song-hee and Hee-min, watching silently, were overcome with a feeling they couldn’t quite put into words.

How could someone be so utterly devoted?

To craft Seo-joon—who had become a Gate—into a human being again was already an extraordinary feat. But to go so far, even when Seo-joon didn’t remember him, was beyond comprehension for an ordinary person.

Cha Yeon-woo showed no sign of despair. He simply did what needed to be done with calm determination.

Kneeling on the cold hospital floor, Yeon-woo stayed there until Seo-joon finished the entire bowl of food.

“Only use silicone utensils,” Hee-min advised.

“He doesn’t fully grasp the concept of utensils yet and might try to swallow the spoon. Same with toothbrushes. And when you give him medicine, make sure to take the cup away as soon as he finishes, or he’ll try to eat that too.”

“Understood.”

“His learning ability… isn’t great, but it’s not nonexistent. This should resolve itself once his memories return, so don’t worry too much.”

“Alright.”

“If you leave him standing unattended, he might start walking on his own but wander off to strange places, so keep an eye on him.”

Hee-min offered more advice as Yeon-woo listened intently. In truth, they weren’t overly concerned about Seo-joon’s condition. They were confident he would recover before long.

“…Could I have some time alone with the lieutenant?”

At Yeon-woo’s quiet request, Hee-min nodded sympathetically.

“Of course, Yeon-woo. Spend some time with him. If anything happens, press the call button. I’ll check back in the evening.”

With that, the door closed, leaving Yeon-woo and Seo-joon alone in the room.

“…”

Yeon-woo watched Seo-joon, who sat beside him but stared blankly out the window. His heart twisted with emotions he couldn’t articulate.

“…Lieutenant.”

Kneeling down, Yeon-woo carefully sat on the floor in front of Seo-joon. Despite his soft call, Seo-joon’s gaze remained fixed elsewhere, refusing to meet his.

Yeon-woo’s trembling hand reached out, lightly touching the edge of Seo-joon’s knee. Finally, Seo-joon’s gray eyes flickered downward, landing somewhere near Yeon-woo’s shoulder.

“Lieutenant… Lieutenant…”

At last, the tears that had been pooling in his eyes overflowed, cascading down his cheeks. Yeon-woo had imagined unleashing all his anger and resentment when they reunited. He had planned to berate Seo-joon for leaving so easily. But now, he couldn’t.

Those empty gray eyes refused to look directly at him, skirting around his presence instead. Slowly, Yeon-woo intertwined his fingers with Seo-joon’s hand, pulling it toward his head. Though Seo-joon flinched and tried to resist, Yeon-woo guided his hand to rest on his hair.

“Come back soon… and pat me on the head.”

Silent sobs shook Yeon-woo’s shoulders as his tears dripped onto Seo-joon’s lap.

“Tell me I did well, that you’re happy we met again, and… promise you’ll never leave me again.”

Seo-joon’s hand moved to stroke Yeon-woo’s hair, but the action was devoid of any intention—purely directed by Yeon-woo’s grip. Resting his face on Seo-joon’s thigh, Yeon-woo wept quietly.

He hated his lover for not even thinking to wipe away his tears. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

…Because he understood what Seo-joon must have felt when he left.

Raising his tear-streaked face, Yeon-woo looked up at Seo-joon. But those gray eyes, still blank, turned away from him, back to the window.

Even so, Yeon-woo felt grateful and happy just to touch him again. They had said Seo-joon would come back soon. All he had to do was wait patiently, just like this.

But Seo-joon didn’t come back. Not after two weeks. Not after a month.

✽✽✽

With a soft hissing sound, Yeon-woo approached Seo-joon and sat beside him.

“Lieutenant, it’s time for your medicine.”

Seo-joon was leaning back against the bed’s headboard, holding Jeong-woo securely in his arms.

Despite Yeon-woo’s large frame, he still had to hunch his shoulders and approach cautiously every time he neared Seo-joon. Yet, Jeong-woo—small and unthreatening—seemed to be accepted by Seo-joon as nothing more than an endearing little creature.

For Yeon-woo, it was one of those moments when he truly envied Jeong-woo.

“Hyung, can I turn on the TV?”

Jeong-woo asked, snuggling deeper into Seo-joon’s embrace.

Yeon-woo handed him the remote.

“Just until the doctor comes, okay?”

“Okay!”

Jeong-woo pressed the buttons with his small fingers, switching to the familiar cartoon channel. He nestled back into Seo-joon’s arms, content. On the corner of the TV screen, a banner read “Gate Closure D+43”

—it had been 43 days since the Gates disappeared.

Seo-joon took the paper cup of medicine Yeon-woo handed him and drank it himself. Watching closely, Yeon-woo immediately retrieved the cup, wiping away the traces of medicine from Seo-joon’s lips.

“Lieutenant.”

The soft, hissing sound accompanied Yeon-woo’s words. This time, Seo-joon finally looked at him, albeit briefly. Yeon-woo smiled. But within seconds, Seo-joon’s gaze shifted sideways, back to the empty air.

“Jeong-woo, it’s time for your check-up with the doctor!”

A voice called from the doorway—a specialist responsible for Jeong-woo’s treatment.

Yeon-woo switched off the TV, lifted Jeong-woo from Seo-joon’s arms, and handed him over to the doctor with a polite nod.

“Yeon-woo, you’re still here at this hour? No driving lessons today?” the doctor asked, balancing Jeong-woo easily.

“I’ll go later,” Yeon-woo replied, nodding.

The doctor hummed in acknowledgment. By day, Yeon-woo helped Jeong-woo with his reading and writing practice, tended to Seo-joon, and squeezed in driving lessons with Cheong-oh in between. Passing his written driving test had become a new part of his routine. He wanted to travel with Seo-joon once he recovered and figured it would be best to get his license in advance.

The doctor, bouncing Jeong-woo slightly, teased.

“You remember that big shot Jeong-woo got last time? Today, he’ll get the same one.”

Jeong-woo pouted, his lips twitching. Yeon-woo gently rubbed Jeong-woo’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“Our Jeong-woo isn’t scared because he’s brave, right?”

Jeong-woo’s quivering lips pursed tightly at Yeon-woo’s words. “Of course… Jeong-woo is grown up now. I’m an adult!”

Having turned ten recently, Jeong-woo now proudly referred to himself as an adult. Both the doctor and Yeon-woo chuckled at his earnest declaration.

“Let’s go, Jeong-woo. The doctor will make sure it doesn’t hurt,” the specialist said, cradling Jeong-woo securely as they left the room. Yeon-woo waved them off with a warm smile before turning back to Seo-joon.

“Wait—Lieutenant! No!”

The sound escaped Yeon-woo as he rushed toward Seo-joon, who was blocking the humidifier’s steam vent with his hand. Yeon-woo quickly pulled Seo-joon’s hand away, examining his reddened fingertips.

A similar incident had occurred not long ago when Seo-joon had nearly burned himself touching the spout of a boiling electric kettle. Because of this, Yeon-woo never let his guard down while Seo-joon was awake. He exhaled deeply, shaking his head with a rueful smile.

“Lieutenant, are you doing this on purpose to scare me?”

Cupping Seo-joon’s cheeks, Yeon-woo pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. For a moment, Seo-joon’s gray eyes flickered toward him before dropping weakly to the floor.

“…”

Still, it was progress compared to the first time. Back then, Seo-joon had been so startled by Yeon-woo’s kiss that his eyes had gone impossibly wide, and he had forgotten to breathe for a few seconds.

“If I ask you to kiss me, you should do it like this. That way, I’ll be the one surprised.”

Yeon-woo teased, emphasizing the word “kiss” as he playfully pressed his lips together in exaggerated motions. Seo-joon turned his head with a short sigh, as if silently saying,

“Here we go again.”

That small reaction made Yeon-woo chuckle. He gently laid Seo-joon down, covering him with the blanket. At least Seo-joon never resisted—he would lie down when told and close his eyes without protest.

Listening to the steady sound of Seo-joon’s breathing, Yeon-woo cautiously wrapped his arms around him. Instinctively, Seo-joon’s sleeping body sought warmth, burrowing closer into Yeon-woo’s embrace.

This was Yeon-woo’s favorite moment.