CCS Ch 20

No matter what, pneumonia without a fever? That couldn’t be right. It was probably just a fuss over nothing. If I calmed down and rested well, I’d get better soon.

That vain hope shattered the very evening I received my prescription. As soon as I forced down some porridge and collapsed on the sofa, my fever spiked.

“It’s 37.9 degrees Celsius… What do you want to do? Should we go to the hospital now?”

Kim, the housekeeper, asked cautiously, holding the thermometer. The hospital the elderly man referred to was always the university hospital they frequented. Semin thought for a moment and shook his head.

“I’ll go tomorrow morning. I don’t think I need to go to the emergency room.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

After reassuring the elderly man, Semin stumbled toward his room. He felt his energy draining in real time, leaving him with a terrible feeling.

He also felt uneasy about not having spoken to Yooho. Semin lay in bed, typed a message saying he was going to sleep early tonight, and closed his eyes. He could only hope his condition would improve while he slept.

But his uncooperative body, as it had always done throughout his life—not once obeying Semin’s will—betrayed him yet again.

Ironically, it was the sound of his own coughing that woke him. As his consciousness cleared, the various aches and pains that wracked his body became sharp and distinct. Semin groaned, drenched in a cold sweat, unsure of what was happening.

It felt as if glue, not saliva, was coating his mouth. Every time he moved his tongue, it was agonizing, as though he were ripping apart the adhered flesh. When a coughing fit started, it felt like someone was squeezing his lungs with their hands.

“Ah…”

He reached for the medicine he had placed by his pillow, but his hands were shaking too much to bring it to his mouth. After struggling for a while, Semin finally managed to swallow the pills and buried his face in the pillow. His throat hurt so much that he wished he could just pass out.

At this point, he couldn’t pretend any longer. This was beyond the scope of a simple medication. Semin fumbled around his pillow for his phone, then tilted his head in confusion. He was sure he’d left it near his pillow, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Had it fallen under the bed? Giving up, Semin sat up and endured another bout of coughing. He forced his stiff legs to move and opened the bedroom door. Even the slightest movement of his back sent a jolt of pain through his ribs. It would be easier to go downstairs and call Kim than to bend down and search for his phone.

“Housekeeper…”

His horribly raspy voice came out weakly. Dragging his feet and leaning against the wall for support, Semin collapsed. The hallway, which should have been straight, seemed to warp and bend before his eyes.

“Housekeeper…”

He tried his best to shout, but it was futile. His voice, like a deflated balloon, was too weak to reach Kim’s room, which was much too far away. He didn’t have the strength to stand up again.

He’d had bad colds every season. He was prone to fevers of unknown origin, and hospital stays were an annual event. This time would be no different. He would endure the narrow, hard hospital bed, taking antibiotics until his face swelled, and eventually, it would all be over.

But familiarity, knowing the beginning and the end, didn’t lessen the pain.

In truth, it was always as agonizing as the first time.

Suddenly, a wave of self-pity washed over him, stinging his nose. As tears welled up, his already constricted airway felt even tighter. He coughed, trying to breathe, and a sharp pain shot through his spine.

“Ugh…”

At the same time, the world spun.

“…”

His consciousness sank like a small animal drowning in water.

A nightmare, without beginning, end, context, or escape, continued endlessly. When he finally forced his eyes open, exhausted and twitching, reality proved to be no less hellish. He was on a gurney one moment, inside a CT scanner the next, and then, after what felt like an eternity, when he finally came to, he saw the familiar hospital ceiling.

“…”

It was dark, so he had no idea how much time had passed. Semin blinked for a while, then suddenly gasped, “Keugh,” as pain washed over him. It had been painful enough before he lost consciousness, but this was an entirely new level of agony.

“Semin, my boy.”

As he groaned silently, Kim suddenly appeared in his field of vision. The elderly man’s face was contorted with worry, his hands clutching at the air.

“…Sir.”

A dry cough escaped his lips the moment he opened his mouth. The unbearable pain almost made him want to laugh.

“Don’t talk. Okay? The doctor said you need to rest as much as possible.”

“What time… is it…”

He coughed, his body shaking, and tears streamed down his face. They were purely physiological tears, brought on by the pain. Kim let out a sympathetic sigh and wiped Semin’s face.

“I should have stayed by your side. I…”

Semin shook his head at the self-reproachful words, but the elderly man was too busy to notice. He pressed the nurse call button and whispered, stroking Semin’s hair.

“Let’s ask for some painkillers.”

While he was grateful for that, he was more concerned with knowing how much time had passed. He needed to ask if the sun had yet to rise, or if a whole day had gone by. But every attempt to speak felt like tiny knives were slicing through his throat.

“My phone…”

“Oh dear, no talking, remember?”

Having exhausted all his energy to utter a single phrase, Semin didn’t dare try again. He closed his eyes obediently, waiting for the drugs to numb his pain.

Even after waking from a long, drug-induced sleep, his condition remained the same. He could speak, but only with considerable effort. Semin squeezed out a few words to Kim.

“Housekeeper, my phone, please…”

“Your phone? Oh dear, I don’t think I brought it with me.”

“It should be… near my bed…”

“Right. Sungmin said she’d be stopping by later, so I’ll ask her to bring it.”

Thank you… he whispered weakly, glancing around. The digital clock on the wall read 10:00. Since it was bright outside, it must be 10:00 AM.

“What… day is it today…?”

“It’s the 16th. August 16th.”

“…”

Thankfully, not too much time had passed, but by the time Sungmin arrived with his phone, a full day would have gone by. The thought of Yooho waiting for him made Semin sigh.

“Ah…”

Stupid. If he’d admitted himself to the hospital last night, none of this would have happened.

“Semin?”

“…Sob.”

Kim must have attributed his sudden tears to the pain. The elderly man approached the bedside and gently stroked Semin’s forehead with a sympathetic hand.

“Oh dear, you’re in so much pain…”

He no longer heard the tsk-tsking sounds. He only felt increasingly anxious. His thoughts were consumed by Yooho’s competition, which was only two weeks away. Would he recover in time? He had promised to send tickets and to be there to cheer him on…

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

Sungmin, arms crossed, asked in a firm voice. She held Semin’s phone in one hand. Kim patted her on the back lightly, as if to tell her to ease up, and left the room.

“You’re on strict bed rest right now. You’re not leaving the hospital.”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving right now, but just for a bit next month…”

“You can’t even go out. You need surgery as soon as your fever goes down.”

“Even just for a day…? What?”

Surgery? He stared wide-eyed, and Sungmin sighed deeply.

“The CT scan showed some air trapped near your left lung. They said they can drain it with a tube, but it’s difficult with the pneumonia this severe. They want to get the inflammation down first, then operate right away.”

“…”

“Do you understand? This isn’t something that’ll be resolved in a week or two. You need to be prepared for at least a month in the hospital.”

A month? He hadn’t imagined it would take that long. He didn’t want to imagine it. Semin raised his voice involuntarily.

“I promised to send him tickets…”

“Semin. Let me be clear, even if this were a simple cold and not pneumonia, you wouldn’t be going to Hyun Yooho’s competition.”

“…”

“The media’s attention is entirely focused on Hyun Yooho right now. How can they let you, in your condition, into that crowded stadium? Even if you were in perfect health, it would be questionable. Give it up.”

Semin closed his mouth and slowly lowered his head. He felt like crying but held back the tears. He knew. Of course, he knew it was impossible.

Sungmin also knew her brother’s expression when he resigned himself to something. She let out a long sigh and approached the bed.

“Semin. You need to consider Hyun Yooho’s position too. Do you think he’d be happy if you went there sick and something happened to you?”

“…”

“Watch it on TV, and send him a message saying you enjoyed it. That’s all you need to do.”

Yes, that’s the only option… Semin nodded absently, then suddenly looked up.

“…Noona. You’re not going to tell Sir, are you?”

“Tell him what?”

“That I’m sick… that I’m in the hospital. Please don’t. Okay? I’ll tell him after the competition is over.”

As soon as he finished his rushed words, the cough that had subsided returned with a vengeance. Sungmin rubbed his back with a worried expression.

“I won’t tell him on purpose, but wouldn’t it be better if you told him yourself? You said you promised to go to the competition. He’ll wonder why you didn’t show up.”

“It’s okay…”

Just as Sungmin had said, the stands would be packed with reporters and spectators, and Yooho wouldn’t be able to spot him easily. He could just make up an excuse about being there but not being able to say hello. Semin reached for his phone. Sungmin, with a dubious look on her face, raised the bed table and placed the phone on it.

“Don’t look at your phone for too long. Lie down and rest.”

“Yeah, okay…”

He sighed as soon as he turned on the screen. Five missed calls and twelve messages.

[Is everything okay? 17:30]

Semin grimaced at the last message. He sniffled and asked Sungmin, who looked bewildered, “Noona, does my voice sound weird?”

“Your voice? Well, yes, it’s weird…”

Despair washed over him at the blunt reply. With a long face, Semin began typing a message.

* * *

[Sir, I’m so sorry. I went somewhere for a bit and lost my phone. You must have been worried. I’m so sorry. 20:10]

Yooho tilted his head, reading the message. It was a relief that ‘ghosting’ had been eliminated from the scenarios he’d been running through his head all day, but he couldn’t readily believe the vague, evasive message.

[20:21 Can you talk now?]

He suppressed the urge to press the call icon and calmly sent a message instead. The ‘read’ notification popped up quickly, but no reply came. Considering Semin’s usual rapid-fire texting speed, this was unusual.

[Sorry, my Noona’s here right now. 20:25]

Yooho held the competition tickets Myunghoon had procured for him. They were the closest seats to the track available to athletes. He flicked the stiff edges of the tickets between his fingers and slowly typed a message.

[20:27 Did you get the tickets?]

[20:28 I sent them yesterday]

Again, the reply was unusually slow.

[Yes! I got them. Thank you. I’ll definitely be there to cheer you on. 20:35]

Yooho put down his phone and let out a long sigh. All four tickets were in his possession.

How was he supposed to interpret this situation?

‘…Is he sick?’

That was the first thought that inevitably came to mind. But even if he were sick, why would he lie about receiving tickets he hadn’t? As he racked his brain, Myunghoon, who was diligently shaking a protein shake beside him, cautiously spoke.

“What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”

Normally, Yooho would have brushed it off, but his mounting confusion loosened his tongue. He sighed again and mumbled as if in passing, “Kang Semin is acting a little strange.”

“…Huh?”

Myunghoon’s expression seemed to ask, ‘Why would that make you sigh?’ Yooho took the offered shake and downed it in one gulp. No matter how he thought about it, there was only one answer.

“I’m going to take a short leave this week.”

“What? Are you crazy? No way!”

Myunghoon yelled immediately.

“The competition is in two days! What do you mean, ‘leave’? Because of Kang Semin? What if reporters swarm you if you go out?”

“I’m saying this because I don’t think Kang Semin will come.”

“So what’s the deal…? What’s the big deal if he’s not readily available? You’re not even dating, why are you so obsessed?”

“We are dating.”

“No, I mean, even if you are… Wait, what?”

A brief silence followed. Myunghoon looked like he had just been pushed off a cliff and was hanging in mid-air. Yooho ran a hand through his hair and added calmly, “We’re dating. Kang Semin and I.”

“…”

“…”

“…Wait, Kang Semin… was a woman?”

Yooho let out a loud, exasperated sigh.

“Myunghoon… what year do you think it is?”

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’m not being outdated or prejudiced or anything, it’s just that I never expected, never even imagined, that you’d date a man. Have you ever dated a man before? Ever?”

“No. He’s my first.”

Silence descended once more after the simple declaration. Myunghoon opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, looking between Yooho’s face, the tickets, and the empty air, before finally mumbling in a small voice, “…This crazy… audacious bastard… How dare he snag the youngest of the Lee Kang Dairy family…”

Yooho chuckled at his friend’s genuine bewilderment. It felt like his head was clearing a little, so he brushed his neat forehead. He had gotten a little heated, but as Myunghoon said, leaving right before the competition wasn’t a wise move. There were a lot of reporters camped around the athletes’ village because of the influx of Asian sports stars.

“Um, but… Hyun?”

But if something was wrong, he wanted to check on it before the competition. Myunghoon cautiously addressed Yooho, who was leaning back against the sofa.

“So… the reason… uh, Young Master… I mean, Kang Semin kept visiting the gym… was because you two were dating?”

“Yeah.”

“…So that’s why he emphasized it was a ‘private matter’…”

Myunghoon suddenly squeezed his eyes shut, covering his face with his hands, and started groaning like a wounded animal. ‘What’s with him now?’ Yooho felt his subsided anxiety bubbling up again and glared at his longtime friend.

“What?”

“Well…”

Myunghoon quickly opened his eyes and subtly avoided Yooho’s gaze. He opened and closed his mouth silently before finally asking in a strained voice, “…Are you… did you two have a fight?”

“…”

Yooho stared at his fidgeting friend, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. They hadn’t fought, exactly. However, he had a hunch as to why Semin might be distant.

“I messed up.”

“Messed up…?”

“I kind of…”

The image of Semin hiding in the dark bathroom, curled up and crying, flashed through his mind. Yooho sighed again and continued in a low voice, “I startled him.”

He knew he’d pushed too far. If he was going to hold back, he should have held back completely. But that alone couldn’t explain everything. The more he thought about it, the more things didn’t add up.

‘I want to live in another country. I’m not saying I’m leaving right now, but…’

Shortly after saying that, Semin had showered him with extravagant gifts, seemed dejected throughout their trip, then brightened up immediately after they parted ways, and now he was being intermittently unresponsive…

“…”

Could it be that he’s been trying to break up with him this whole time?

“Huh…”

What if Semin had already decided to break up and emigrate, but was postponing it because of the Asian Games, not wanting to affect his performance—wouldn’t that explain a lot?

What if the promises to grant any wish were born out of guilt? If it was an attempt to ease his conscience…

“…Hyun?”

But even if that were true, why? Yooho propped his chin on his hand and lost himself in thought. Even if Semin wanted to break up, what was the reason?

“Ah… damn it.”

A headache quickly developed. It was pointless to speculate about things only Semin knew. Yooho cursed under his breath, causing Myunghoon to flinch.

“What… is it bad? Is it serious?”

“…”

“Um, should I go and see Kang Semin? Maybe I can talk to him…”

“What? No way. Why would you?”

Yooho flatly refused. He didn’t want to add to Semin’s stress right before the competition. But Myunghoon, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, repeated himself.

“Maybe if I explain things properly…”

“What are you going to explain?”

“…”

“Forget it… I won’t go out, so don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to him after the competition.”

If his hunch was correct, Semin wouldn’t say anything before the competition anyway. Yooho leaned back and blew his bangs off his forehead.

‘What if he really wants to break up?’

What else could he do but try to hold on? He arrived at the obvious answer and stood up.

* * *

[I have something to talk to you about after the competition. Can we meet right away? 21:00]

[If the 1500m finishes by 3 PM, my schedule will be clear. Want to meet briefly the next day? 21:11]

Semin quickly checked the calendar after reading the messages. The men’s 400m race was on September 2nd, and the 1500m was on the 4th. That meant Yooho was asking to meet on September 5th. Semin’s heart sank. He’d assumed they wouldn’t be able to meet until after the closing ceremony.

His surgery was scheduled for the 3rd. Since it was laparoscopic, the recovery time wouldn’t be as long as open surgery, but he wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital in just two days.

‘I’ll be stuck in bed…’

He planned to be honest about being sick after the competition, but he didn’t want Yooho to see him in such a pathetic state right away. After much deliberation, Semin reluctantly resorted to another lie.

[21:25 I’m so sorry, I assumed you wouldn’t be free until after the closing ceremony, so I made other plans for that day. My nephew, who’s studying abroad, is coming back to Korea for a short visit.]

He felt a pang of guilt dragging his innocent nephew into this, but he had no other choice. Yooho, as always, didn’t question him.

[Okay. 21:26]

[Then when can we meet? 21:27]

He was at a loss for words again. He wanted to meet after he had recovered somewhat, but no one could tell him when that would be. After much agonizing, Semin came up with the most convenient answer.

[21:33 I’ll contact you on the 5th!]

The conversation ended there. Semin put down his phone and fell into deep thought. Only then did the content of the first message fully register.

‘Something to talk about after the competition?’

He would have understood ‘Let’s meet after the competition,’ but ‘I have something to talk about, so let’s meet’?

“…”

That was an ominous sign. A bad feeling crept into his heart. Semin picked up the remote control and turned on the TV. A sports news program was airing.

“…the athlete was not only in possession of a angina medication classified as a prohibited substance by WADA, but is also accused of putting it in the water bottle of a fellow competitor… “

His heart dropped. He listened more intently, his anxiety growing. It turned out a swimmer competing in the Asian Games had been expelled due to a doping violation. The reporter’s serious tone suggested it was a significant incident.

“As a result, all swimmers on the national team have undergone emergency doping tests. Even if a doping substance is not intentionally ingested, a positive test result immediately before a competition will result in disqualification. Sim Sangho reporting from the Jincheon National Training Center.”

Disqualification. The word sent chills down his spine. Semin grabbed his phone, his mind racing. “Ah,” he groaned, his voice still raspy despite the improvement.

“…”

After hesitating for a long time, Semin sighed and lay back down. He opened a message window, but his fingers moved slowly.

[Sir]

Are you okay? He deleted the words he’d typed and started again.

[21:40 Sir, good night]

He couldn’t shake his unease. Semin hesitantly opened an internet browser. As expected, online communities were buzzing about Hyun Yooho. There were countless comments, from people feigning concern while spewing curses to those misunderstanding the reports and making nonsensical claims.

Title: Why put doping drugs in someone else’s water bottle?

Content: To improve their performance?

Comment

Comment1 This guy’s way too optimistic.

Comment2 No, it’s to get them disqualified and screwed.

⤷ OP OMG that’s so evilㅠㅠ

Semin suddenly remembered the father of another athlete he had met in front of the gym. He also recalled the clear hostility the man had displayed. Yooho had said that such incidents were common. Even so, to tamper with a fellow national team member’s water bottle… How could anyone conceive of such a thing, let alone carry it out?

‘There are people in this world more easily swayed by momentary impulses than rational judgment.’

Now he finally understood what Sungmin meant. With sound judgment and composure, no one would harm an innocent person. The thought that Yooho might have been subjected to such malice filled him with belated anger.

“…”

Wouldn’t Yooho feel the same way? Wouldn’t he be deeply disturbed, exposed to the unpredictable malice of others?

‘I wish I could talk to him.’

He closed his eyes, a bitter feeling rising in his chest. He was getting anxious as the competition drew closer, but his fever stubbornly persisted.

Ten days after being hospitalized, he could finally straighten his back on his own. Semin clung to the handrails along the hallway, groaning as he practiced walking. He needed to recover faster. He wanted to see Yooho as soon as possible.

Yooho still replied to his morning and evening messages, albeit belatedly. One day, after pouring his heart out in a supportive message, he received a long reply in the evening.

[Semin 19:10]

[This Asian Games isn’t difficult or stressful for me at all. 19:11]

[So don’t worry and wait patiently. 19:12]

[Let’s see each other after the competition. 19:12]

He felt a little embarrassed that Yooho seemed to have seen right through him, but time marched on regardless. Sports news constantly reported on Hyun Yooho’s every move. Countless rumors, from unknown sources, poured out, all attributed to vague “insiders.” There were too many to keep track of.

The media analyzed and reported on each athlete participating in the upcoming 400m race, predicting Hyun Yooho’s chances of winning. Some claimed victory was certain, while others argued it would be difficult for a long-distance specialist. Amidst the diverse languages, tones, predictions, hopes, cheers, and envy, only Hyun Yooho remained silent and unseen.

As the competition neared, Semin found himself increasingly anxious and unable to sleep soundly. Yet, time passed relentlessly, and the day of the opening ceremony arrived. Fighting another bout of fever, Semin buried himself in his bed and watched Yooho on the screen. Dressed in his national team uniform, Yooho walked calmly amidst the other athletes. The crowd roared as he appeared on screen.

He had wanted to attend the opening ceremony too.

Tears welled up and fell onto his pillow. Semin bit his lip, fighting back the wave of self-pity.