TDG Ch 12

The sound of a chunk of ice melting and dropping into the water echoed unusually loudly. The conversation had come to an abrupt and unexpected halt. The silence, which had taken the place of the summer heat, made cold sweat bead on my back. I’d boldly declared I would make the day fun, but now that I’d brought the kid home, I had no idea what to do next. It was the limit of a boring person who’d done nothing but sleep whenever he came home.

“Is this your mother?”

It was Jihyuk who spoke first. He reached over my shoulder and grabbed a picture frame from the table. The woman in the photo looked to be in her early thirties, with a warm and refreshing smile that stood out.

“Yeah.”

“What does she do?”

“She passed away when I was little.”

Jihyuk’s expression stiffened slightly.

“Sorry… I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine. It happened a long time ago. Don’t worry about it.”

Mrs. Yoon Yanghee, Seo Juwon’s mother, died in a car accident when he was two years old.

It was long before I’d possessed this body, and I had no personal connection to her. So all I felt was a sense of formal sympathy. At the very least, I wasn’t in a position to be comforted by a kid who had lost both his parents.

Unable to bear the growing stillness, I deliberately stood up from the sofa with exaggerated energy.

“Come on. I’ll show you Hyung’s room!”

There were Gundam models in this world, too.

As soon as I opened the door, Jihyuk let out a gasp at the display case filled with Gundam plastic models.

“Did you build all these yourself?”

“Of course! I made all of them! I was really into them as a kid. Haven’t touched one in years, though.”

That was a complete lie.

The Gunpla^[1] hobby belonged to the original Seo Juwon.

The reason I said I hadn’t done it in a long time was to preemptively ward off any request he might make to see me assemble one.

What caught Jihyuk’s eye next, after the Gundams, were the various nameplates and awards displayed on the wall.

Academic Excellence awards from elementary school, a grand prize in a writing contest from middle school, and a number of photos taken during school trips and excursions—Han Jihyuk was examining Seo Juwon’s life, which I had long ignored, more carefully than I ever had.

“……”

Why was it that the longer this went on, the more uncomfortable I began to feel?

I had lived as Seo Juwon for five years, but out of everything in this room, very few things were truly mine. Watching Jihyuk explore the space, I found my own image from five years ago overlapping naturally with his. I had once tried to understand the original Seo Juwon’s character, even going so far as to read through what he left behind and assemble the remaining Gundam kits.

But at some point, I’d stopped doing that.

The room was already complete. Anything I clumsily added would only make the sense of dissonance grow stronger.

My goal had never been to become more like Seo Juwon.

So what was I thinking when I brought Han Jihyuk home?

When I brought it up, I’d imagined the typical comfort of a “home,” but now even I couldn’t find a single thing here I could genuinely relate to. No matter how I looked at it, it had been a bad idea.

Wouldn’t it have been much better to just take him to a park or somewhere else instead…?

“What’s this?”

Jihyuk picked something off the bookshelf and held it out.

At the sight of it, I quickly got up and walked over to him.

“That’s an old ID badge I used back when I worked Field Guide at Division 7. It’s been a while…”

“Field Guide?”

“Yeah. It was where I worked before I met you. I built up a lot of experience over five years.”

I had stuffed it away when I left Division 7, and now here it was, rolling back into view.

Seeing the worn, fingerprint-smudged badge reminded me of when I first got it.

I’d hung it on the wall, looked at it over and over, and told myself countless times that I’d do my best. I had no idea I was walking into a world of hardship.

As I chuckled to myself at the memories of my reckless youth, Jihyuk suddenly asked, “Was it a good place?”

“Huh? No… I mean… it was just a job.”

To be honest, it was like playing an endless game of tag with a ten-headed Cerberus in the middle of hellfire. But saying that out loud would’ve been like spitting in my own face, so I left it at a vague, noncommittal answer.

Jihyuk’s long fingers hovered gently over the ID badge.

“You look way younger in this photo than you do now.”

“Yeah. I was nineteen when that was taken.”

This ID badge was the only thing in Seo Juwon’s room that was truly mine.

It held a piece of my real history. That’s why I could speak about it with a bit of pride.

Still, for something so meaningful, the photo looked absolutely ridiculous. As a mix of fondness and embarrassment welled up inside me, I quickly reached out to snatch the badge from Jihyuk’s hand and hide it.

“Stop looking at it. Give it back, it’s embarrassing.”

“Why? What’s so embarrassing? You looked super cute when you were younger.”

Dodging my hand with ease, Jihyuk gave me a confused expression.

“Shut up. Cute, my ass… Hand it over, Han Jihyuk. What, you’re not gonna give it back now?”

Jihyuk lifted the badge high above his head, as if daring me to try and take it. No matter how much I stood on tiptoe or bounced upward, there was no way my height could reach it. When I finally dragged a chair over and tried to climb up, he reluctantly lowered his hand. But as I moved in, he quickly hid the badge behind his back again.

“Give it to me, Hyung.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I?”

“You’re not using it anymore, so it’s fine, right?”

“Fine or not, no way. Who gives someone their ID?”

Jihyuk’s eyebrows drooped into a pitiful curve as he whined like a puppy.

What’s with him all of a sudden? What’s so great about this beat-up old ID that he wants it so badly?

Hmm… Should I just give it to him if he wants it that much?

He was the reason I started working as a Guide in the first place. Maybe this has some meaning for him, too.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. But only if you promise to keep it to yourself.”

As I reluctantly agreed, Han Jihyuk clenched his fists and did a little victory celebration.

“Don’t worry. I won’t show it to anyone.”

“But why that one? If you just want a picture, I can give you a recent one.”

“No. I like this one.”

Jihyuk looked thrilled, like he’d just discovered a hidden treasure.

What was so special about an old photo oozing with awkward youthfulness? What a strange guy.

Jihyuk’s third object of interest was my bed.

“This is the bed Hyung sleeps in, this is Hyung’s pillow, and this is the blanket Hyung uses.”

He examined each item as if it were part of a grand scientific study, inching closer and closer with his head nearly buried in the mattress.

When I told him he could lie down, he immediately threw himself onto it like a fish back in water. Bouncing up and down as if testing its springiness, he waved at me.

“Hyung, come on. Lie down too.”

“I’m good.”

It’s the bed I lie on every day, so what’s so new about lying on it again?

But Jihyuk didn’t give up, continuing to beckon me with stubborn persistence.

“……”

When your ultimate bias, with a beauty that should be preserved in a museum, lies on the bed in a fatally languid pose and waves you over, how many fans could possibly resist? 

I wasn’t heartless enough to say no to that.

Pretending to give in, I sat on the edge of the bed. Jihyuk smiled and wrapped his arm around my back. In an instant, he slid his hand under my arm to grab my torso and yanked me toward him.

“Ah!”

With one arm, Jihyuk pulled me down and skillfully climbed on top.

He half lay on me, pressing his forehead gently against my temple.

“Just five minutes like this.”

He said it on his own terms, then wrapped his leg over mine and pressed down as if to keep me from slipping away. Oddly enough, the sensation was… unfamiliar in a strange way. Sure, we often hugged back in the dorms, but we’d never entangled our legs like this.

Still, trying to wriggle out now would probably make things even weirder. Was I the only one overthinking this?

I glanced up hesitantly, but Han Jihyuk’s eyes were closed, and his expression was completely calm. So it really was just me. Feeling sheepish, I forced myself to quietly endure the five minutes.

“Jihyuk, it’s been five minutes. Time to get up now.”

As soon as the second hand hit the five-minute mark, I tapped his shoulder, quick and firm. But there was no response. He couldn’t have actually fallen asleep that fast, could he?

“Han Jihyuk…?”

I gently pinched his cheek to wake him, and he immediately grabbed both of my hands and pulled them down.

What the—so he wasn’t sleeping after all!

“Mm… Just ten more minutes.”

“You said just five minutes earlier.”

A stifled laugh tickled my ear.

“Then… just five more.”

His soft, low voice seeped into my ear, almost tickling the inside.

When I stiffened my shoulder without thinking, Jihyuk pulled me closer and patted me gently, as if to say I didn’t need to be so tense.

I wanted to tell him that we shouldn’t waste our rare day out lying around like this, but the truth was, even if we did get up, I had no idea what we’d do next.

Did he not get much sleep last night?

Thanks to the air conditioner, the room was nice and cool. Even though we were stuck together, it didn’t feel hot at all. In fact, the warmth where our skin touched stood out pleasantly against the chill in the air.

From the nape of Jihyuk’s neck came the refreshing scent of the morning skincare he’d applied.

It was the sort of smell that made you instinctively want to bury your nose there.

The broad-shouldered guy was lying on his side to hold me, scrunching one shoulder awkwardly.

His head dangled pitifully, and I wanted to slide a pillow under it, but I was held so tightly there was no way to move my arm.

A quiet sigh escaped me.

* * *

“Hyung, wake up. Hyung.”

The repeated voice chased away the drowsiness that lingered. I saw the familiar ceiling of my room.

When I turned my head, Jihyuk was lying beside me, propped up on one elbow, chuckling quietly as he looked at me.

“Tired? You slept so soundly someone could’ve carried you off and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

My face flushed hot, and I bolted upright.

“W-what time is it?”

“It’s just three o’clock.”

The tension that had built up in my shoulders finally eased and dropped.

I must’ve been mumbling something about a pillow, wanting to support his head… and then, at some point, my memory just stopped.

Seo Juwon, are you seriously out of your mind? You actually fell asleep?

At first, I thought Jihyuk was asking for five or ten more minutes because he was tired, so I figured I’d just let him nap for thirty minutes.

But in the end, I was the one who ended up dozing off.

It was a relief we hadn’t passed the time we needed to return, but we didn’t exactly have enough left to squeeze in a whole new plan either.

This was a disaster…

We left the house in the morning, spent an hour and a half getting here, and then… stayed in bed until 3 p.m.

Unbelievable. Even couples on a romantic hotel getaway wouldn’t spend this much time stuck in bed.

Seo Juwon, you pathetic fool. Are you even capable of rational thought?

“Aren’t you hungry? You should’ve woken me up.”

I asked out of concern, but Jihyuk simply shook his head.

“Not really. Watching you sleep was nice.”

This sweet kid… Is he trying to stop Hyung from feeling guilty?

I can’t keep lying around like this.

It’s way past lunchtime, and I need to feed him something. Fast.