Chapter 46

If things had unfolded this way, it felt like an opportune moment to liquidate a past spent playing the tragic hero in an unattainable one-sided love—a past where he had remained blind to what the other truly needed. Burning carnal passion was hardly the entirety of affection. Where that passion receded, deep comradeship and fond regard still remained. Perhaps Myeong-joo had finally been granted the chance to prove that enduring care. Throughout what little remained of their married life, he could dedicate himself to Yi-tan in genuine friendship.

Buoyed by this resolve, Myeong-joo spoke with a lighter heart. “It smells delicious.”

“We used to heat up canned rations, but Hee-wan complained it tasted like cattle fodder and rounded up several cooks like a string of dried croakers.”

Myeong-joo chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Yi-tan pulled over a nearby wooden crate to serve as a low table, set down the mess tins, and unfolded a field chair from the strategy map table, placing it across from Myeong-joo.

Once Yi-tan took his seat, dinner commenced. Steamed over a field burner with seasoned rice, fried kimchi, and grilled pork, the meal was so flavorful and hearty that it felt almost too luxurious for front-line rations. Noticing that meat provisions reliably reached even this remote outpost, Myeong-joo felt a sense of relief.

Yi-tan frowned at Myeong-joo’s mess tin. “Why did you eat so little? You must have been hungry.”

Though the mess tin was large and Myeong-joo had left merely a single portion behind, a gentle scolding came his way. Blinking in mild protest, Myeong-joo glanced between his own tin and Yi-tan’s. The youth had already cleaned his own massive portion down to the last grain, looking fully entitled to nag.

“The portion was enormous. It is hardly that I ate too little.”

Despite Myeong-joo’s defensive grumble, Yi-tan wore an unsatisfied expression. Growing up poor, wasting food had always felt like a cardinal sin, and Myeong-joo had genuinely tried to finish it all, yet the sheer volume had bested him. Even so, he had eaten quite as much as any ordinary grown man.

“Hand it here; I will clear it away,” Yi-tan said.

Taking the mess tin from Myeong-joo’s hands before he could object, Yi-tan preempted him once more. Refusing to let the platoon leader handle cleanup, Myeong-joo moved to protest, only to freeze in sheer astonishment. Without batting an eye, Yi-tan scooped up Myeong-joo’s leftover rice and shoved it straight into his own mouth.

“Wait, why are you eating that?!”

“You ask when you know full well how precious rice is,” Yi-tan remarked with a chuckle.

Flabbergasted, Myeong-joo gaped at him as the youth chewed around a mouthful of rice, his cheeks puffing out with endearing boyishness. Precious as rice was, how could it compare to the supreme hero of the military?

As Myeong-joo watched in dazed disbelief, Yi-tan warned, “If you leave leftovers again, I’ll clear your plate every single time just like this, so you had better eat down to the last spoonful.”

Myeong-joo was too stunned to reply.

It occurred to Myeong-joo that Yi-tan was treating him with far greater ease and familiarity than before. Only a day ago at their wedding banquet, the youth had remained formal and guarded during their meal. Sensing that unforced warmth, Myeong-joo felt a natural smile soften his own face.

Waking the morning after the wedding, Myeong-joo had realized without any prior warning that a fracture had formed across his heart for Lee Yi-tan. He could not pinpoint why it had cracked, but the reason hardly mattered. The instant he welcomed the cool, outside breeze flowing through that hairline fissure, he realized that the world beyond romantic obsession was remarkably clear, expansive, free, and solitary. It was a liberation Myeong-joo had not felt in years. Throughout his unrequited love, he had offered the finest seat of his heart to Yi-tan like a tributary offering.

Now, only ruins remained in that space.

Though his innards felt charred black as if scorched by flame, he told himself that clearing a field with fire allowed the ash to become rich fertilizer for future soil. Remaining close in warm friendship would be enough. He had heard of married couples who lived like trusted companions; if they could become like that, he would be well content.

In an open, tranquil tone, Myeong-joo continued with genuine ease: “Seeing how unassuming you are relieves a great worry; I feared a nobleman accustomed to luxury would split my legs like a tit trying to match a stork’s stride once we began living together.”

Having finished the meal, Yi-tan secured the lid on the empty mess tin and cocked an amused eyebrow. “You worried about such things? I am not such a delicate creature. How could anyone put on airs in a place like this?” He met Myeong-joo’s gaze directly, his dark eyes brimming with unwavering, solemn intensity. “I hope you will never worry about anything on my account, Instructor. In the first place, this was a marriage I pleaded for.”

“How could I possibly not worry…?” Myeong-joo murmured softly, slowly averting his eyes.

Hearing Yi-tan speak in such terms made his conscience prickle painfully, given that this marriage had been arranged to satisfy Myeong-joo’s desperate needs. While Myeong-joo had secured a home and living expenses for his sisters, all Yi-tan had gained was an ailing Harmonizer whose days were numbered. If one received even a worn straw sandal, one had to pay its value; how to repay such a debt weighed heavily on his mind.

Taking advantage of the moment, Myeong-joo decided to act. “In that case, let me administer harmonization right now.”

“…Right now?”

“Yes, let us do it now. Having eaten, I’ve shaken off the fatigue of the journey, so I must earn my keep.”

Tempted by the offer, Yi-tan inquired again, though his tone held no genuine objection. “Are you truly not tired?”

Myeong-joo simply nodded in steady reassurance.

Observing his pliant demeanor, Yi-tan parted his lips. “Then I shall accept with gratitude.”

His consent came without hesitation. Yet when the moment to begin arrived, Myeong-joo hesitated. Clenching and unclenching his palms several times, he asked with an embarrassed look, “Should I proceed as we trained, or is there a particular method you prefer? How did you usually receive it with other Harmonizers?”

When Myeong-joo had trained in harmonization at Yi-tan’s behest, the instruction had centered primarily on non-contact distance methods. The alternative was direct physical contact, in which he possessed virtually no practical experience. Aside from an unpleasant, borderline-harassing encounter during a field exercise with an Aberrant named Lim Jeong-wook, he had administered physical harmonization solely to Yi-tan. He had asked merely to use it as a practical guide.

“What are you saying? We are still newlyweds.”

Myeong-joo had not anticipated that his question would elicit such an injured expression. Fearing he had misspoken, Myeong-joo paused before shaking his head in haste. “No, that’s not what I meant…! Did that sound as though I were nagging you about past relations? It wasn’t that at all!”

A sudden blush surged across Myeong-joo’s face, terrified that he had sounded like a suspicious spouse interrogating past romantic partners. What if he appeared as though he harbored lingering jealous feelings? He could hardly blurt out that his passion had already shattered into dust, leaving only fond embers behind.

Staring at Myeong-joo without offering an immediate answer, Yi-tan lifted the kettle simmering atop the heater, poured warm barley tea into a stainless steel cup for Myeong-joo, and filled another for himself before taking a sip. Yet throughout, his gaze never once strayed from Myeong-joo’s face.

Pinned beneath that steady gaze, Myeong-joo offered an awkward smile. Fearing he had spoken out of turn, he started to shrink back, only to steel his resolve anew. Had he not just decided against keeping Yi-tan at such a cautious distance?

“Aren’t you glaring at me a bit too fiercely? You are tall and undeniably handsome, Second Lieutenant; could Harmonizers ever leave you in peace?”

“Is that so?” Setting his cup upon the crate table, Yi-tan rested a hand against his hip and broke into an amused chuckle. “Yet you are a Harmonizer as well, Instructor.”

“Well, yes, of course…?”

Just as Myeong-joo murmured the reply, wondering what on earth he was getting at, Yi-tan lifted the wooden crate aside, closed the distance, and sat down on the edge of the cot right beside him.

“So from your perspective as a Harmonizer, how do I appear?”

Stunned for a moment by the question, Myeong-joo’s eyes curved in amusement. The youth had apparently enjoyed being called handsome. It was surprising that the usually dignified man possessed such vanity, yet because Yi-tan’s striking good looks remained indisputable across lifetimes, Myeong-joo answered without difficulty.

“You are exceedingly pleasing to the eye. Having you seated here brightens the entire room.” Myeong-joo wove a jest into the compliment, believing it would soften the mood. Finishing the remaining barley tea in his cup, he intended to clear the tins from the crate and let the weary officer get some well-deserved rest.

“Then how was I to the touch?”

“Pardon?”

Failing to comprehend the question, Myeong-joo looked back from the table toward Yi-tan.

Taking Myeong-joo’s hand, the youth pressed it flat against his bare chest. Having stripped for his quick wash, the skin was completely bare, sending a firm yet resilient warmth directly beneath Myeong-joo’s palm.

Yi-tan urged, “Touch me more. The night before last, I felt embarrassed that I was the only one caressing you. You didn’t lay a single hand on me.”

“…”

Yi-tan was saying something, but the words failed to register. Enclosing Myeong-joo’s hand beneath his own, Yi-tan was actively guiding Myeong-joo’s fingers to knead his pectoral muscle. The firm, sculpted contour filling his hand was smooth and searingly warm.

Snapping out of his daze, Myeong-joo came to his senses. “Th-that… ahem. This is embarrassing. Please let go.”

He snatched his hand back in haste. Knowing his face and neck had to be flushed crimson was mortifying, yet composing himself proved impossible. The instant he made contact with that taut flesh, vivid memories of their wedding night flared up, keeping his blush blazing hot. Moreover, he had never imagined Yi-tan would bring up that night so unabashedly.

Rubbing the heated skin of his nape, Myeong-joo offered a sheepish grin. “Tease me gently, Second Lieutenant. I have zero immunity to such things.”

“…”

Though offering no reply, Yi-tan never pulled his eyes away. That unblinking stare was intensely suffocating. Even as the spring night atop Mount Gaema plunged toward minus fifteen degrees, Myeong-joo’s face burned with inexplicable heat beneath that relentless gaze.

“…Shall we begin by holding hands, then?” Yi-tan murmured in a raspy undertone, his voice low and slightly frayed at the edges.

Desperate not to reveal how thoroughly rattled he was, Myeong-joo nodded without delay. “Yes, yes, let us do that. You’ve toiled all day in this freezing cold; let us tend to your harmonization.”

Taking Yi-tan’s hand, Myeong-joo began channeling the harmonization forward. At the sudden, massive outflow of energy, an acute ache struck his diaphragm as if struck by a fist, yet he strove to show nothing beyond a faint knit of his brow. With each wave of fluid discharging, the tight congestion in his chest eased marginally. Keeping his focus entirely on their clasped hands, he concentrated on the flow, oblivious to the intense gaze boring into the exposed crown of his bowed head.

***

After some time, wondering if the harmonization had been received properly, Myeong-joo lifted his head. His gaze collided directly with Yi-tan’s. The youth’s usually sandy-amber irises were inked pitch-black tonight, swallowing all light. Looking upon that dilated sheen, Myeong-joo felt like an anxious handler careful not to provoke an apex predator and slowly moved to release his hand—or tried to.

“Ngh…”

In the next instant, the hand he attempted to withdraw was clamped tight in Yi-tan’s iron grip. The fierce pressure grinding his knuckles wrung a pained whimper from his throat. Having surely heard it, Yi-tan nevertheless refused to loosen his hold.

“You will sleep in my bed,” Yi-tan said with quiet authority.

“…What? Then where will you sleep…?”

When Myeong-joo stammered the question in bewilderment, Yi-tan effortlessly worked his thick fingers between Myeong-joo’s, interlacing them tightly. “Beside you, of course.”

Startled by the outrageous proposition, Myeong-joo shook his head in vigorous, immediate refusal. “No, I can simply lay some straw over the boards, put down a sleeping bag, and rest there. There is no need for me to take the bed—”

“Then shall we sleep on the ground together?” Yi-tan countered without missing a beat.

The unhesitating question drew a helpless sigh from Myeong-joo. How could he possibly let a man who had battled freezing temperatures all day sleep on the frozen ground?

Myeong-joo spoke in a subdued mutter: “Aren’t you coddling your former instructor too much? You treat me with far too much deference.”

“…”

For a moment, Yi-tan said nothing. Anxious over their interlaced hands, Myeong-joo tried to disengage, but Yi-tan did not budge. The unfamiliar brush of another’s fingers against the sensitive skin between his own sent an electric, ticklish sensation rippling through his nerves, making him desperate to pull free.

“It is not… that,” Yi-tan stammered, sounding distinctly unlike himself.

He stumbled through his denial, catching himself in his own confusion before falling silent. Staring down at Myeong-joo’s hand trapped firmly within his own, he seemed momentarily lost in thought. Having lost their little battle of fingers, Myeong-joo surrendered any hope of escape and let out another quiet breath.