UR Chapter 87

Chapter 87

Beom-ho spoke gently as he watched I-bom hesitate.

“Why? Now that we’re right in front of it, are you scared?”

The roller coaster’s tower, modeled after the Eiffel Tower, was a unique structure of crisscrossed steel beams. A warning sign in bold red letters—“Elderly and pregnant women prohibited from riding”—looked dizzying enough just to read.

Neverland was a subsidiary of Samho. The amusement park, surrounded by mountains, was a favorite playground for young tiger beastmen, and Beom-ho himself had run around here like it was his own backyard with his younger cousins. He was one of the people who knew the layout of Neverland’s attractions better than anyone.

Even so, he’d never ridden the roller coaster. There had been one time, when Ji-ho had begged and pleaded with tears, that he gave in. But after going through five consecutive 360-degree spins, his head had reeled. It felt as if his inner balance system had stopped working, the off-kilter sensation making him sick.

As a feline beastman, maintaining a sharp, steady mind had always been second nature, so he hated enduring the unpleasant spin in his head. When other beastmen heard the story, they teased him, saying, “A cat getting motion sickness?”

“It’s not motion sickness!”

Beom-ho had snapped back in anger, but no one believed him. From then on, he avoided roller coasters. If it weren’t for I-bom, he probably wouldn’t have even come in this direction today.

And yet… here they were.

Beom-ho glanced down at his feet. A cool breeze slipped in between the tips and sides of his shoes, and the drop below was dizzyingly far. For a moment, he felt a faint throb in his head, but he quickly looked away as if nothing was wrong.

“I remember you once turned down a helicopter ride, saying you’d get sick… are you sure this is okay?”

I-bom’s eyes widened. A fleeting, troubled look crossed his face, as if thinking, He remembers even that?

“T-that was just because I wanted to get home quickly. I’m actually good with rides. But…”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

A flush spread across I-bom’s cheeks, and Beom-ho’s eyes softened into a slight curve as he watched.

“If you think it’ll be too scary, there’s no need to force yourself. There are plenty of other rides.”

Since there was a cap on the number of guests admitted today, they could ride anything in the park without long waits. If they didn’t like this one, they could just walk away without a second thought and pick another. Beom-ho turned smoothly, ready to head elsewhere.

“Shall we go try something else?”

“N-no.”

I-bom spoke firmly, clinging to Beom-ho’s arm.

“You said it’s your first time here, and you’re not scared. So I can’t chicken out and run away!”

His brown eyes—so close in shade to his hair—shone brightly as they met Beom-ho’s.

Without realizing it, Beom-ho blinked slowly. Then the corners of his lips lifted as he looked at I-bom with warmth.

“Really? Is that how I… looked to you?”

Seeing that pure, unguarded gaze made something stir in his chest. All the sharp, unpleasant sensations he’d associated with roller coasters melted away like water the moment he saw I-bom’s expression. His smile softened.

“Shall we ride holding hands? Then it won’t be scary. For you either, I-bom.”

* * *

Ding-dong-dang—

With the cheerful chime announcing the end of the ride, the safety bar lifted with a heavy clunk. People stood up in a flurry and made their way quickly toward the exit.

That dizzying moment when the track dropped at a sheer 90-degree angle had felt like an eternity, but in reality, the roller coaster’s run time was very short. Truth be told, Beom-ho never wanted to ride something like this again.

He still disliked it. It was like being a cat trapped inside a spinning drum washer. The sensation dulled his beastman-sharp senses, which only made him wary. Still, he lowered his gaze and, pretending nothing was wrong, held I-bom’s hand. His face was pale, but his steps down the rattling metal stairs were steady.

“How was it?”

If maintaining a poker face without giving anything away was a skill, it was one of a pureblood beastman’s specialties.

Fortunately, it wasn’t as bad as when he was a child—he wasn’t so motion-sick that he might collapse on the spot. This time, it was just an annoying throb in his head and a bit of pallor. If he’d been alone, he would have called it the worst and demanded to know why anyone rode such a thing.

“It was so much fun!”

I-bom grinned brightly and nodded. That clear laugh was enough to wash away the lingering pressure Beom-ho had felt moments ago.

Even the yawning drop of the stairs, dizzying to look at, didn’t seem to faze I-bom, who descended them easily, chattering all the while.

“I’ll admit, I was a little scared—especially when we dropped at ninety degrees like whoosh—”

He rubbed the damp skin at the top of his forehead, speaking cheerfully.

“But then I looked at your face right at that moment. You didn’t react at all, just kept looking straight ahead.”

In reality, he’d been focusing hard just to stay clear-headed, but I-bom nodded seriously, as if he’d drawn great courage from it.

“That made me feel a little safer. My heart felt like it had shrunk to the size of a bean, but you were just calmly staring up at the sky.”

“Really?”

I-bom leaned against him with a happy smile. Beom-ho, his fingertips still cold, patted his head gently in reply. There might have been a misunderstanding there, but he decided not to correct it. Only the North Wind, knowing the full truth, clicked his tongue behind them.

* * *

Good times always passed quickly.

“…Thanks to you, I had so much fun today. I really appreciate it.”

I-bom bowed politely. Even circling a mountain wouldn’t pass this fast. A trace of lingering regret passed between them like something neither wanted to shake off.

“I-bom. By the way—”

Beom-ho stopped him.

“When are you going to call me by my name?”

It was something that had been on his mind all through their gentle date. The ticklish brush of tidy hair when I-bom leaned against him, the way those long eyes lifted to look up at him with a smile. The countless unspoken looks, balancing on a thin line between desire and anticipation, had stirred his heart. And the intense sweetness of pheromones that stirred a beastman’s instincts had been driving him crazy.

“…Pardon?”

“I’m wondering how long you’re going to keep calling me ‘sir.’ I’ve been waiting.”

“Oh… my name…”

A flicker of embarrassment crossed I-bom’s face.

“You know my name.”

“…Yes, I do.”

“Jin-sang gets his name called so warmly… so why am I always just ‘sir’?”

I-bom stepped back awkwardly, but Beom-ho didn’t miss the opening.

“If you won’t use my name, how about a nickname? You’ve already given me a proposal gift.”

He pulled something from his pocket with a faintly lonely expression—a long treat tube, frayed at the edges. The one I-bom had given him.

“G-give that back!”

I-bom groaned, reaching for it, but Beom-ho easily kept it out of reach, raising it high as he stepped back.

“If you don’t like my name, how about another pet name?”

“…W-what kind of pet name?”

“Hyung.”

His breath, playful and warm, tickled I-bom’s ear.

“Or… should we drop the honorifics? You can just call me Beom-ho.”

How could he say that with such a straight face? The deep voice slipping right into his ear made I-bom’s mouth fall open.

“Honestly, a ten-year age gap is practically the same age.”

“What? No, it’s not! A-and I only call Jin-sang by name because he’s my friend.”

“I know. I’m not saying I want to be just friends with you.”

The man let out a soft chuckle. The teasing, sly touch of his words made I-bom’s face heat with embarrassment. His furrowed brow, as if trying to figure out what to call him if not ‘sir,’ was irresistibly cute.

“I want something… a little more special.”

The arms and fingers that had spent the whole day brushing close only to pull away now reached out without hesitation. Beom-ho clasped both of I-bom’s hands tightly—wordlessly saying there would be no running away.

“M-Mr. Director?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then…”

“Say it. Hm?”

“Uh…”

There was no room for compromise in his quietly insistent tone. I-bom, flustered, tried to pull his hands back, but Beom-ho’s warm, firm grip wouldn’t let go.

“Go on.”

The space between their interlaced fingers tingled.

“B… Beom-ho… ssi.”

In a voice so small it was almost swallowed, he murmured the name he’d only ever called in his mind. At the shy sound, Beom-ho’s neat brows twitched ever so slightly.