Chapter 138

‘Seoul-ah.’

Blink.

Seoul opened his eyes.

A white ceiling. Beige tile. A thick duvet and padded safety rails. A hospital suite. About a month earlier, Seoul had toured several facilities with the Director while they chose where he would stay. Every place had seemed wonderful to him, so he had left the final decision to Do-hyeop, but he recognized this room from that visit.

Just as Do-hyeop had insisted—if Seoul was going to remain here for a long time, the suite should feel like a home—the space resembled a private residence more than a hospital room. A plush sofa occupied one side; beyond it were a kitchenette and a generous bathroom.

Sunlight poured through the windows so brightly that the long white beam across the floor looked warm despite the season. Seoul let his gaze wander around the room, then lifted it.

‘…Mom?’

His mother was sitting on the companion bed beside him. Impossible as the sight was, joy rose in him before reason could interfere. Seoul blinked several times, still lying flat, and tilted his head. His mother reached over and stroked his hair.

‘Mom.’

The single word—Mom—filled his chest with a comfort too deep to explain. Seoul closed his eyes as her fingers moved softly over his forehead.

He could not move so much as a finger. Seven years had passed since he last saw her, yet her scent was exactly the same. He wanted desperately to bury his face against her and breathe it in, and the heaviness pinning him to the bed made that impossible wish ache. But her hand continued to smooth his hair while another gentle touch patted his chest. Wrapped in that familiar warmth, his eyes slowly closed again.

‘……’

Pat. Pat.

When consciousness returned after what felt like an immeasurable stretch of time, Seoul realized the hand gently patting him was still there.

“…Geum Seoul.”

But the voice was not his mother’s.

“Open your eyes. You’ve slept enough.”

That half-raspy timbre was intimately familiar.

Seoul twitched, trying to lift eyelids that felt weighted shut. He blinked against the dryness, and before he could force them open, a warm damp cloth swept carefully around his eyes. His lips parted in quiet relief at the heat. Then came a familiar scent. He knew that too.

“…Director.”

“…Yeah.”

After the cloth brushed over his cheek and withdrew, his eyes opened easily. The first thing he saw was the face he loved most.

“……”

Seoul caught Do-hyeop’s large hand and held it. His final memory was of collapsing at home beneath a sudden blade of abdominal pain. He had not even managed to complete the call.

Then again, this was a man who had mobilized entire response teams because Seoul disappeared for five minutes to pet a puppy. There was no chance Do-hyeop would have left him lying unconscious on the floor for long. A faint smile touched Seoul’s lips.

Do-hyeop looked almost the same as ever. Almost. His cheeks were a little more hollow, and exhaustion sat heavily around his eyes.

Seoul knew this fierce, clumsy, crooked, prickly man had warmed his hands, patted his chest, smoothed back his hair, and kissed him until he woke. He knew the gentlest part of Do-hyeop belonged nowhere else. It was a certainty Seoul alone possessed.

“You sure slept an eternity.”

Do-hyeop released a rough breath.

“The kid is fine. And so are you.”

The reassurance, offered before Seoul could even ask, was unbearably tender. Relief flooded his chest with an emotion too large to name.

“…Director. I…”

His voice cracked at once, cutting off whatever he had meant to say.

Do-hyeop simply bent and kissed the corner of his eye. Seoul’s mouth turned down slightly; the lips touching his skin were terribly dry and chapped.

“I must’ve reincarnated ten times waiting for you to open your eyes.”

His tone was exactly the same as always. Seoul answered with a small request.

“Hold me.”

There was no reason for Do-hyeop to refuse. He bent over the bed and drew Seoul carefully into his arms.

“…Closer, please.”

Again, he obeyed without complaint. Until now he had yielded the entire mattress to Seoul; this time he climbed onto it and enclosed him firmly in his embrace.

Seoul buried his face in Do-hyeop’s chest. His favorite scent surrounded him. Except during sex, Do-hyeop’s pheromones always lingered at exactly the intensity Seoul found comforting.

“Can I go see Taeyang right now?”

Do-hyeop studied him for a moment, then straightened and turned toward the nightstand.

“You can’t go in person until you recover your health. Only like this for now.”

He picked up a compact monitor. Seoul immediately leaned toward the screen.

Inside a dome-shaped incubator—white base, transparent cover—a tiny child slept on a miniature mattress. A light-shielding pad covered half his face. Beneath it were the smallest nose Seoul had ever seen and tightly puckered lips.

“…He’s so tiny.”

Do-hyeop did not answer. He watched Seoul’s profile instead. Clear light filled Seoul’s brown eyes. Unable to touch the baby, Seoul traced one finger gently across the screen above the sensor pads fixed to the rapidly rising and falling chest.

“A boy. An alpha. The rest can only be tested once he grows more.”

Seoul nodded at each detail, never once taking his eyes from the display.

“…He’s an alpha. I’m so glad he isn’t a jewel.”

Do-hyeop slowly combed his fingers through Seoul’s hair, taking in the pale forehead, neat nose, lips, and long-lashed eyelids that had remained closed for two days.

“Look after your body properly. If you collapse like this again, you won’t be seeing the kid for that much longer.”

“……”

Only then did Seoul tear his gaze from the monitor. The words sounded like a threat, but he knew better.

Do-hyeop’s dislikes were usually absolute; apart from anything concerning Seoul, he seemed to despise most of the world on principle. Yet just now he had used the child as a reason to persuade him—when Do-hyeop himself had suffered the most from Seoul’s absence.

“Director.”

Seoul cupped Do-hyeop’s cheeks in both hands. Holding his gaze, he spoke with the grave care of someone making an important confession.

“You were very terrified, weren’t you?”

With his cheeks pressed between Seoul’s palms, Do-hyeop studied him in silence. Neither man confirmed nor denied it. Neither needed to.

“I tried to call you immediately, but it didn’t work out.”

Do-hyeop hated hearing Seoul apologize. I was wrong. I’m sorry. He would not allow the habits Seoul had learned in the shantytown to follow him here. Seoul opened his mouth, then closed it again. Do-hyeop would understand the apology he chose not to say.

“…I hate lying here like this too. Because I missed you so much.”

“Damn it, look at you knowing how to say things like that now.”

A chuckle escaped Do-hyeop, the corners of his mouth lifting with unmistakable approval. Seoul released his cheeks and settled back against his solid chest.

“…Gasp. Look at this.”

Seoul tapped the monitor. The infant wriggled faintly, miniature fists clenching and opening. Seoul looked up at Do-hyeop with wide, round eyes—Did you see that?—and met complete indifference.

“What about it?”

“Don’t you find it fascinating?”

“He’s alive, so of course he moves.”

The answer contained not a trace of wonder, but Seoul had not truly asked for agreement. Awe simply had to come out of him somewhere. His eyes returned to the screen, still shining.

“So cute…”

“Yeah. Sure is.”

Turn.

At the unexpected agreement, Seoul snapped his head up—only to find Do-hyeop staring at him instead of the baby. Smiling faintly, Seoul stroked the monitor again.

“Now I have to think of a real name instead of just the prenatal nickname.”

“Just take care of your own body first.”

“You’re going to do that for me, Director.”

Seoul blinked as though he had stated an obvious fact. The shameless confidence drew a dry laugh from Do-hyeop.

“Bullshit. Acting coy again…”

Seoul caught Do-hyeop’s fingers and held them.

“I want to get healthy quickly.”

He wanted to become strong again as quickly as possible so he could hold that tiny child in his own arms. His voice was still rough from sleep and his cheeks hollow, but his eyes had recovered their stubborn brightness.

“When can I eat? I’m ready to eat right now.”

The sudden vigor made Do-hyeop narrow his eyes before hauling Seoul tight against his chest. When he grumbled, ‘Listen to you talking big when you couldn’t even open your eyes a minute ago,’ Seoul pursed his lips and answered, ‘I’m young, so I’ll recover quickly.’ Do-hyeop finally broke into helpless laughter and nipped playfully at Seoul’s small nose and rounded cheeks.

Do-hyeop wanted to live beside him until this tedious, rotten world became ordinary even to Seoul. But Seoul could stare at melting icewater with his mouth shaped into an O and ask whether it was beautiful. He was probably incapable of finding the world boring. All the more reason for Do-hyeop to remain beside him for a very long time.

The two days Seoul had lain unconscious felt eternal. The instant he opened his eyes, the hands of the clock seemed to move again. Only after Do-hyeop buried his face against Seoul’s neck and breathed for a long while did the tinnitus and migraine ease to a tolerable hum. Relief seeped through him slowly, almost painfully.

***

—”As the fleeting remnants of spring dissipate, warmth has gradually begun gathering in the air. Seoul’s temperature, which started at thirteen degrees this morning during the commute, rose to eighteen degrees in the afternoon. Next—“

Click.

The hospital-suite television went abruptly silent. Spoon still in hand, Do-hyeop set aside the remote he had just used, but the two people facing one another remained deep in conversation and never noticed.

As Seoul’s hospital stay lengthened, Jung Tae-eun had become one of his most frequent visitors. She had come again today.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yes. I’ve seen pictures, but this is my first time seeing real ones…”

A bouquet of sunflowers filled Seoul’s arms. Tae-eun had brought them as a gift, and Seoul, smiling with open delight, could not bring himself to set the overflowing flowers down. He kept looking at them as though afraid they might disappear.

“I thought they would suit you perfectly, Seoul-ssi.”

In a world where healthy soil itself was scarce, fresh flowers were an extravagant luxury.

“Geum Seoul. Open up.”

Do-hyeop raised a generously heaped spoonful of rice toward Seoul’s mouth.

“Ah…”

Rice and seared beef disappeared between Seoul’s parted lips. He closed his mouth and chewed diligently, cheeks working in small, earnest movements.

Seoul had recovered steadily throughout his hospital stay. Daily walks through the gardens and increasingly hearty meals were putting strength back into his body.

Whether his earlier aversion to food had been purely pregnancy-related or whether the tiny baby in the incubator had sharpened his determination, Seoul ate every restorative meal Do-hyeop placed before him and never skipped a supplement.

No IV needle had been needed in the back of his hand again. He had not lost another day to a coma.

“Water.”