Chapter 14

Gyuhan gleefully launched basketballs into the hoop. Watching every single shot swish through the net, he marveled at his own skill.

Beside him, Lee Sohee clapped with an admiring “Oh!” before stepping up to try it herself. While she bricked her first ten attempts completely, once she got the hang of it, she sank every single ball as well.

“I might be a little slow to learn, but once I get the hang of something, I do it perfectly.”

Gyuhan preferred this kind of attitude over pointless modesty. Appealing with what one was good at was far easier than excavating strengths the other person had hidden behind humility. Gyuhan was somewhat lacking in delicacy. While he had always readily acknowledged his flaws, his understanding of them was somewhat deficient. He lacked nunchi. Yet precisely because he had no nunchi, realizing that he lacked nunchi was an equally distant prospect.

He had no idea why Lee Sohee had suggested coming to the game zone, but because he was clueless, the clueless Gyuhan was having the time of his life.

Hold on, isn’t the mood great?

Not only that, while standing side-by-side with Lee Sohee playing a shooting game, he arrived at a delusion masquerading as thought.

Wait, isn’t this actually really good? Even if there’s no spark, it’s comfortable and fun right now, isn’t it?

Had Lee Sohee been an old classmate or an established acquaintance, Gyuhan would have immediately thought that they could become great friends or that she was a truly wonderful person. However, because this was a formal date for which he had dressed up and applied cologne, that thought never crossed his mind, even though their activities closely mirrored a pair of schoolkids hanging out after class.

“You’re really skilled.”

“Aside from basketball, there isn’t a single game in here I haven’t played,” Lee Sohee replied. Her hair, which had been styled with perfect curls, was now tied up into a high ponytail that rendered all that painstaking styling meaningless. Having tied it loosely, stray strands spilled out.

Growing thirsty, they decided to grab some coffee. Instead of a fancy cafe, they ordered two massive, one-liter coffees side-by-side from a takeout-only counter. Standing by the roadside, they stepped into an alleyway smoking area at Lee Sohee’s suggestion to share a cigarette face-to-face. Watching them puff on cigarettes while clutching one-liter cups of iced Americano, anyone passing by would have seen two corporate colleagues on a break.

This is fun. Should I suggest going bowling next time? Who among the guys liked bowling again? We were an odd number anyway, so we could never play team matches.

While Gyuhan cheerfully plotted out their follow-up date (?), Lee Sohee flicked her ashes and asked, “Who was that person standing next to you when we first met?”

“Ah, him?”

Gyuhan took a deep drag, turned his head to blow the smoke out to the side, and spoke rapidly in an excited cadence, “He’s my best friend. We just ran into each other by coincidence. In fact, I think that cafe is his regular haunt anyway. Truth be told, he was the one who told me about that place, saying it’d be great to meet you there, Sohee-ssi. The coffee was good, right? That bastard has filthy picky taste, so everywhere he recommends gets rave reviews. As for me, as long as it goes into my mouth, anything goes. Even if a cigarette butt fell into my coffee, I’d probably only realize after drinking the whole thing. I wouldn’t know the difference myself, but anyway, that it’s clean, has a great atmosphere, and the coffee’s delicious… telling you that was actually his idea too.”

Gyuhan was excessively candid. And in the thoroughly relaxed atmosphere, he completely forgot the agency counselor’s parting advice.

“He checked over my hair and clothes too—how do they look? Well, I won’t go around claiming to look young for my age like some old ajussi, but my annual health checkups always show my biological age is young, and that whatchamacallit—body mass index?—that’s pretty solid too. But it’s a waste of this hot body, honestly, because I suck at fashion. Like coffee with a cigarette butt, I’m the kind of guy who thinks as long as my arms, legs, and noggin fit through the holes, it’s clothes.”

Gyuhan considered this an appeal of his easygoing nature and gave a slight wink. Lee Sohee discreetly averted her eyes.

“Besides his palate, he’s picky about tons of things, so he’s got great taste. Even to someone clueless like me, I think I look pretty decent today. Ah, have you ever been to Anmok Beach, Sohee-ssi? I used to think Anmok Beach meant the same anmok as in having good taste! But he was the one who taught me they’re completely different. Funny, right?”

It wasn’t funny.

Usually, looking at a handsome face makes even unfunny remarks bring a smile, but even though Gyuhan’s face was plenty handsome, perhaps because she already perceived him as a “father,” no laughter came.

Lee Sohee didn’t laugh, and only then did Gyuhan realize he had let his mouth run away with him.

This damn mouth of his. Gyuhan, who cherished friendship with his buddies above all else, would get excitedly carried away reciting praise whenever an opportunity to say something good about a friend arose. Like he was pitching a sales client.

Ah, shit. Did I talk too much?

Gyuhan took a long pull of his coffee. Crunch. An empty sound of ice scraping against ice echoed.

Eh. Still, technically I only brought him up once.

Because he had spoken without a single pause or breath, he counted it as one single instance and arbitrarily felt relieved. He didn’t reflect deeply on how that single instance had been a massive, sprawling monolith of chatter.

“What is your friend’s type?”

“His type? Probably places like the cafe we met at today, the clothes I’m wearing… something like that, I guess? Ah, he probably likes arcades like that one too.”

“Wow. So today, I basically followed the exact hangout course that you and your friend take. What a coincidence.” Lee Sohee spoke in a flat monotone, like reading from a textbook, before clarifying her question. “Not that. I mean his taste in romantic partners.”

“Pardon?”

“Wait, no. A person with that much sense must already have a lover.”

“Huh?”

“He doesn’t? A few of my friends came to mind who would totally be into your friend. Since we’ve met like this, it’s fate. What’s his type? I’m curious what kind of taste someone that picky has when it comes to romance.”

“Uh…”

Gyuhan was utterly flustered. Lee Sohee smiled as if she had expected as much, looking at him with a knowing, probing gaze. Then she threw another question. “You’re best friends, yet you don’t know whether he has a lover or what his type is?”

Without playing a single video or listening to music, Gyuhan was running on the treadmill like a machine. before long, over an hour had passed. Yet he showed barely any signs of fatigue. Normally, he would have stepped off long ago to lift weights. His mind was entirely elsewhere.

Gong Jio’s type?

Any lingering expectation of seeing Lee Sohee again had vanished completely.

You’re best friends, yet you don’t know whether he has a lover or what his type is?

Ever since hearing those words, that stark fact had consumed his thoughts.

It felt like taking a brutal blow to the chin during sparring. That was exactly what happened when you took a solid hit to the jaw, with vision blacking out and memory wiped clean away. By the time you regained your senses, you were sitting in a corner chair or flat on the canvas. That was the result when you saw a punch coming and couldn’t dodge, but taking a sudden hit about something he had never once contemplated in his life doubled the shock. Though it was a question he had briefly pondered before, unlike back then when he could dismiss it as a passing thought, hearing it asked directly by a third party made it impossible to dodge. As though seized by an obligation to answer, Gyuhan incessantly replayed the question in his mind.

Right. What is his type? Did he ever date anyone?

He had first met Gong Jio in middle school. After a cinematic opening where they exchanged punches to cement their friendship, they had never once parted ways. Yet despite maintaining such a tight bond for so long, Gyuhan knew nothing about whether Jio had ever dated, who he had seen, or even what type he liked. He had only recently learned the guy was open to men, too. This went far beyond mere idle curiosity about Gong Jio’s romantic life. It felt like… like he was someone who merely spouted empty words about brotherhood while in reality knowing nothing about his best friend. A glaring failure of qualification.

On the flip side, Gong Jio would know Gyuhan’s type without having to ask. Gyuhan had proclaimed it until his mouth ran dry. A rabbit-like wife and fox-like kids. Wait, was it the other way around? Fox-like wife and rabbit-like kids? Hold on. That was confusing.

“Whoa, whoa!”

Caught off guard by the sudden confusion, Gyuhan missed his footing and nearly tumbled. Fortunately, he regained his balance by a hair and hit the emergency stop, avoiding a disastrous injury.

Once the belt halted, his breathing turned ragged and heat surged through his body. Resting his hands on his knees and bending forward to catch his breath, he wiped his chin and neck with a sports towel. His breathing was unusually slow to settle. In the end, uncharacteristically skipping his transition straight to anaerobic weight training, he sat down on a bench to rest.

With the towel draped over his head, Gyuhan chewed on his lip. It felt like all this time he had only leaned on Gong Jio, never serving as a friend Jio could lean on in return. The rising self-reproach weighed heavier than his shortness of breath.

An unspeakable embarrassment seized him.

“Fuck, you’re not even a man. Cut off your dick, you son of a bitch.”

Gyuhan groaned in agony, clutching his head in both hands.

And you brag about lifelong friendship? Brotherly bond, my ass.

“What are you doing?”

It was only after a while that a familiar pair of shoe tips appeared beneath his lowered head.

“Finished your workout already?”

Tracing his gaze upward from the shoe tips, he saw Gong Jio. He was wearing a headband. Far from looking awkward, it only laid his handsome face completely bare.

“Hey,” Gyuhan called out to Gong Jio in agony. “I’m sorry.”

“All right.” Gong Jio accepted the apology without hesitation.

With his eyebrow twitching, Gyuhan asked in bewilderment, “You’re just saying ‘all right’ without even asking what it’s for?”

“Is there only one or two things you should be sorry for?”

“Just one, though?”

“Really? You must count differently than I do. Or maybe you can’t count past two. That sounds more accurate.”

“What do you take me for? Anyway, I’m sorry. Just ask me why, at least.”

Gong Jio silently studied Gyuhan, whose skin looked paler than usual as his sweat cooled, then held out the water bottle he had brought. Gyuhan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped it down—a rather handsome sight.

“What is it?”

After waiting for him to finish drinking, Gong Jio asked as requested. Wiping his mouth, Gyuhan spoke with utmost solemnity. “Turns out there’s still a lot I don’t know about you. So there’s something I want to ask. What’s your type?”

Fortunately, Gong Jio didn’t waste time playing semantic games the way Gyuhan had done with Lee Sohee. Even so, the answer didn’t come easily. The lengthening silence made Gyuhan inexplicably tense. Taking in Gyuhan unconsciously swallowing and watching his Adam’s apple bob once more, Gong Jio spoke slowly, “Someone clueless.”

“Clueless? Seriously? Why? I thought you’d find clueless people frustrating as hell. You get fucking annoyed whenever you can’t communicate with someone.”

Pressing his lips directly against the spot on the bottle Gyuhan had just drank from, Gong Jio took a sip of water and spoke in an indifferent tone. “I have plenty of patience.”

“And? Anything else?”

“A great physique is a plus.”

The bastard… isn’t as ascetic as he looks. Ah, right. His nickname was the Gay Sex Machine. Recalling that ridiculous nickname he could never forget, Gyuhan felt a twinge of awkwardness.

Come to think of it, was he picturing the same sex in the first place? Gyuhan tried to imagine Gong Jio’s ideal partner, only to realize he had to start over from that fundamental question.

Yet while he sat groaning and trying to sketch a crude picture in his head, Gong Jio had already stepped onto a treadmill.

“Hey. Gong Jio.”

Do you like men?

He was about to ask, but there were too many people around. Gyuhan grunted and shut his mouth. Besides, Gong Jio had already plugged high-performance noise-canceling earbuds into his ears, as if signaling not to bother talking to him.

Ha, as expected. My nunchi-sense[1] is insanely fast.

Gyuhan praised himself inwardly while feeling thoroughly troubled.

Why the hell does he like clueless people, though? What a bizarre type.

As established, because Gyuhan lacked nunchi, he couldn’t even notice the fact that he had zero nunchi, and because his physique was imposing enough that he never encountered anyone who dared treat him disrespectfully for his lack of tact, his brain never had to suffer, leaving him zero opportunity to realize what he was truly like…

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