Chapter 43

Shin scolded with a faint smirk, “I told you not to look after him so much. You’re going to encourage that kid to discharge early.”

A soft laugh drifted over the vehicle’s speakers. The playful chiding—‘Why are you always trying to make the kid discharge?’—felt remarkably warm and familiar.

“Were you working before you dozed off?” Shin asked gently.

—“Yeah. But I wasn’t really sleeping; I just drifted off for a second while reviewing 330’s interrogation transcripts. The more I study them, the more regrets I seem to find.”

Shin cocked his head slightly. “Regrets? Like questions you wished you’d asked?”

—“That too,” Se-woong conceded over the line. “I just think that if I understood interrogation doctrine better, my analysis would be sharper, and 330 might have spoken even more comfortably.”

Shin had known Se-woong would suit the assignment and had recommended him accordingly, yet his junior approached the task with far deeper sincerity than expected. He avoided reckless assumptions, maintained healthy skepticism even when formulating theories, and empathized naturally with the subject while maintaining firm boundaries. Listening to him lament his own perceived shortcomings, Shin felt certain that Se-woong possessed the quintessential traits of an exceptional interrogator.

—“Ah, they’ll contact you tomorrow morning, but the Chairman wants you to deliver an informal briefing in person tomorrow at fourteen hundred hours. He said if you have other engagements, reschedule them.”

“Are we going together?” Shin inquired.

“He summoned both of us,” Se-woong confirmed.

Listening to the casual conversation, the prickly tension that had frayed Shin’s nerves throughout the evening began to soften. Simply checking on each other’s meals and confirming tomorrow’s schedule brought profound ease.

Shin deliberately avoided mentioning the family gathering for his father’s birthday. Reminding Se-woong that they were in-laws would inevitably cause him to worry about his brother, and Shin wanted to spare him that anxiety.

Witnessing how deeply affectionate the two brothers were had made Shin loath to discuss Prosecutor Cha any further.

—“…What did you do this evening?” Se-woong asked hesitatingly.

A question once so routine that he had never paid it heed now filled Shin with immense delight. Rather than suppressing curiosity, hearing Cha Se-woong openly ask what he had been doing made Shin bite his lip in quiet satisfaction.

The curiosity between the lines fed his contentment—not merely asking about an itinerary, but an instinctive prickle of jealousy wondering who he had dined with. It was an emotion Se-woong had kept tightly corked for months.

Is he almost all the way back?

Whether prompted by Shin’s insistence or arrived at through his own resolve, Se-woong’s heart was undoubtedly shifting.

“For dinner,” Shin teased with a low chuckle, “I ate food.”

Se-woong pressed softly, —“I mean what kind of food… and with whom.”

“Curious?” Shin drawled with a teasing smirk.

—“…Never mind. Don’t tell me. I don’t care.”

Shin knew he would ask again within five minutes—no, within three minutes, or perhaps even one.

In reality, the silence didn’t last ten seconds.

A brief hesitation followed before Se-woong blurted, —“Who was it that you ate with?”

Shin murmured against the steering wheel, “I miss you, Woong-ah.”

He wanted to lay out a carpet along Cha Se-woong’s path back to him, removing every obstacle so his lover could focus on nothing else except returning to his arms.

Pushing open the convenience store’s glass door, a crude electronic chime imitating an oriole resonated through the shop. He recalled it being a gentle bell sound not long ago.

The interior bustled as staff unpacked evening deliveries. Stepping past stacked plastic crates, Shin stopped before the beverage cooler and grabbed two familiar beer cans with one hand. Having finished his last beer the night before, speaking with Se-woong had ignited a sudden thirst.

Heading toward the counter, he picked up two bottles of iced coffee. Selecting the sweetest variety was effortless; he simply needed to look for the brand Se-woong always drank.

The clerk asked, “A plastic bag is one hundred won; would you like one?”

“Yes, please,” Shin replied, handing over his card.

Carrying the plastic bag, he exited and walked toward his car parked along the curb. A taxi pulled up to the apartment entrance. Preparing to walk past casually, the figure emerging from the vehicle caught his eye, causing Shin to halt in mid-stride. Even after the taxi departed, the slender figure lingered on the pavement, nervously gnawing on a fingernail.

I told him to stop doing that.

“Cha Se-woong.”

The tall, slender figure flinched violently and turned around. With Shin’s car parked right out in the open, Se-woong must have been in a complete daze to overlook it entirely; his observant nature usually never missed such details.

Witnessing Se-woong’s stunned expression, the corners of Shin’s lips curled upward until his mouth parted in a radiant, brilliant smile.

Then, tilting his head with knitted brows, doubt crept into his chest. Was this truly Cha Se-woong standing before him in the dead of night? Or was he merely dreaming? The radiant grin gradually morphed into bewilderment.

“…Woong-ah?” Shin called out cautiously.

Hearing his name called once more, Se-woong began walking slowly toward him. Scanning both directions along the quiet street, the hesitant posture was undeniably Cha Se-woong. This was no dream.

He had evidently bolted from home in a tremendous rush; beneath a hastily thrown-on cardigan, he wore a threadbare military academy issued t-shirt. Worn so thin that the cotton was nearly translucent, it was the sleep shirt Se-woong cherished most for its sheer comfort, refusing to throw it away. Below were simple athletic shorts. He had clearly jumped straight out of bed and rushed out the door.

Shin drew a deep, overwhelmed breath, his chest swelling with profound emotion.

“Well, I… I suddenly had something urgent to consult regarding 330…” Se-woong stammered, his eyes darting away.

“Right, an urgent consultation,” Shin agreed with an amused chuckle. “Captain Cha must have been in quite a hurry. Let’s head upstairs to consult, then.”

Taking Se-woong by the wrist, Shin led him to the passenger side and opened the car door.

Even after stepping inside the apartment, Shin couldn’t contain his smile. While Se-woong slipped off his sandals and set them neatly in the entryway before walking into the living room, Shin pretended not to watch while drinking in every single movement.

Se-woong glanced at the bag on the counter. “What’s that? Beer?”

“Yeah. I felt like having a drink because something wonderful happened today,” Shin replied smoothly.

“Something wonderful… What about the coffee? You don’t drink sweet things.”

“I bought it for someone special,” Shin answered, his gaze steady.

Fingering his chin, Se-woong gave a slow nod, letting out a dubious hum. Watching him, Shin brushed a hand across his own lower jaw, using the gesture to conceal his irrepressible grin.

“Make yourself comfortable while I take a quick shower,” Shin offered, “or should we consult first since it’s so urgent?”

Se-woong waved both hands in flustered denial. “No, no, go wash first. Take your time.”

“I thought it was urgent,” Shin teased with an arched brow.

Frazzled by his inner turmoil, Se-woong failed to notice Shin teasing him and merely nodded vigorously once more.

Where had he been until this late hour, and what wonderful news had prompted him to buy celebratory beer? Shin was never someone who drank beer simply because he was in good spirits; who could he possibly have dined with?

By the time Se-woong left work, Shin had already disappeared from the task force headquarters.

With turnover among newly hired civil servants spiking recently, government agencies had introduced a mandatory ‘No-Overtime Day,’ which happened to be today. While Ministry of Defense installations were typically exempt, a special directive had been issued this week warning personnel to strictly comply with the trial policy.

Consequently, the second official duty hours ended, Shin had vanished as though he had been anticipating this exact moment all day.

Even while eating dinner with Sergeant Kim at a nearby diner, Se-woong’s thoughts had remained entirely consumed by Shin. Did he have plans? A dinner appointment? Should I call him, or shouldn’t I?

Barely registering the taste of his food, he had returned home, clutching unreadable documents and staring endlessly at the clock. During the past few months when they barely spoke, how on earth had he filled those empty hours? He couldn’t even remember.

Could he have gone on another matchmaking date?

Shin had promised he hadn’t slept with anyone, but he had never promised to stop attending matchmaking meetings.

That thought had plunged him into sudden gloom. Imagining Shin seated across from an unfamiliar woman sipping tea, sharing dinner, perhaps even enjoying drinks while discussing perspectives on marriage made the air in the apartment feel stifling and damp. Despite the hygrometer reading forty percent—unusually dry for recent days—he felt suffocated.

Fearing his spiraling thoughts would drive him insane, he had forced his eyes shut, resting the documents over his stomach. Just as he was finally drifting off, his phone had buzzed with Shin’s call.

Hearing Shin casually mention having eaten dinner, that he was still outside, while keeping the identity of his dining companion shrouded in mystery had set Se-woong’s temper on edge. Waking someone who was trying to sleep and refusing to speak clearly was maddening. If someone called late at night, weren’t they obligated to answer every question asked?

Before he knew it, he had taken a cab straight to Shin’s apartment. He had zero immunity against hearing Shin say he missed him. He had convinced himself that he merely wanted to know who Shin had dined with so he could finally sleep tonight—truly believing it was just a passing thought.

Yet rushing here in the middle of the night was objectively deranged. He had never considered himself impulsive, but if asked to introduce himself in the future, he would have to describe his nature as ‘wildly impulsive and rash.’ In military operations, officers like him were considered the most hazardous liability.

Towel-drying his damp hair, Shin emerged from the bathroom with two beers in hand and approached the sofa. Why was he beaming so brightly? It only unsettled Se-woong further.

Gripped by sour irritation, words spilled from Se-woong’s lips with a sarcastic bite.

“Sounds like dinner was delicious.”

“Dinner? Yeah, it was wonderful for the first time in a while,” Shin answered casually. “What was it again… neobiani? The seasoning was excellent, and the aroma of the meat was superb. The sea urchin seaweed soup was great too.”

The man answering seemed utterly indifferent to the tension in the room.

Did he go to some upscale traditional course restaurant?

Shin wasn’t normally a gourmet. That didn’t mean he lacked standards; rather, he possessed a sophisticated understanding of seasonal ingredients and terroir, evaluating restaurants based on their menus and culinary techniques. It was a refined sensibility cultivated through a lifetime of privilege.

For Shin to praise the meal meant it must have been an exceptionally fine establishment. Sea urchin seaweed soup was hardly ordinary fare.

Quietly, Se-woong asked, “…Is sea urchin even in season right now?”

Shin chuckled, taking a seat on the cushions. “Not yet, right? It gets sweet and rich in summer. Why, Woong-ah? Do you want to eat sea urchin?”

“No, forget sea urchin,” Se-woong muttered, averting his gaze, “I ate with Sergeant Kim at the diner in front of headquarters. Spicy pork bulgogi.”

With an amused hum, Shin asked, “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier. Was it good?”