Chapter 14

In frustration, Se-woong retorted, “I’ve heard plenty of bullshit, but this takes the cake. Even if that’s an issue, the bastard who touched me is the problem! Is having a neck below my head a crime? If you’re that stressed out, go outside and play soccer instead of taking it out on innocent bystanders!”

“Maybe I should,” Shin murmured, rubbing his jaw. “Wonder if soccer would help.”

If only he could have gone somewhere to complain about his bizarre behavior, but unfortunately, Se-woong had no close classmate to confide in. Shin, conversely, had countless peers who adored and followed him. Had Se-woong breathed a word to anyone, he would surely have been branded an idiot blinded by jealousy, inventing slander out of petty envy.

Looking back, it had all been part of that strange, simmering undercurrent between them.

In truth, it was a problem rooted in Se-woong’s own excessive heedlessness, something he had only realized much later. In his own defense, growing up with much older brothers had likely desensitized him to frequent, casual physical affection. He was hardly a fool incapable of distinguishing between harmless contact and sexual harassment.

Even so, once he began dating Shin, Se-woong made a conscious effort whenever he wore clothes that exposed bare skin, well aware of how much Shin loathed it. And Shin, for his part, had never displayed such open disgust over someone merely brushing against his arm.

Regardless, Shin had hurled ridiculous accusations back then over physical contact Se-woong could not even recall. Compared to the time Shin had thrown a massive fit, pitching bedding and everything else out into the corridor, this was practically mild.

Roused from his reverie by a loud clatter, Se-woong snapped back to reality.

Even the few personnel who had lingered had almost completely cleared out of the control room, leaving only two or three individuals packing up equipment in the far distance. Among them was Sergeant Kim, who could be seen gauging the atmosphere, visibly debating whether and when he might saunter over.

In the brief instant their eyes met, Se-woong gave a gentle shake of his head, signaling him not to come over. Catching the eye of an already irritable Shin could bring no possible good. Sergeant Kim quickly bobbed his chin in rapid nods, sending an acknowledgment back. He was certainly not lacking in tact.

While a subordinate answering a superior with a flick of his chin might seem like gross insubordination to some, Se-woong found neither insolence nor irritation in it, even if he did harbor the passing concern that the man might get clocked one day if he pulled that stunt elsewhere.

With the packing complete, Sergeant Kim offered Se-woong a conspiratorial wink as he stepped out the door last. It was clearly meant to convey something along the lines of Feel free to talk privately without worrying about us, a gesture so utterly absurd that Se-woong let out a dry chuckle. What is with that guy?

Meeting the unblinking gaze fixed upon him from across the table, Se-woong hastily composed his expression.

Shin murmured as though genuinely baffled, “Can someone’s taste really change this drastically?”

Tilting his head from side to side in apparent bewilderment, Shin muttered under his breath. It was just like back then: the crooked tilt of the head, the blank expression, the flat, inflectionless tone.

“…Pardon?” Se-woong asked, blinking.

Shin leaned back slightly against the table. “Just wondering. Isn’t he a completely different type from your ex-boyfriend?”

With an exasperated breath, Se-woong snapped, “What on earth are you talking about, sir?”

“Do you like him?” Shin asked point-blank.

Hearing Shin spew such utter nonsense, Se-woong gritted his teeth. Does he really think we’ve become buddies now?

Double-checking the empty control room and the firmly shut door, Se-woong drew in every last wisp of air in his lungs and released a heavy sigh. The hand brushing back his bangs trembled faintly. While one corner of his own chest burned like ash, the fact that not a single muscle on Shin’s face even twitched made his blood boil all the hotter.

“Then your taste must be remarkably consistent, Major,” Se-woong retorted with a biting sneer. “Seeing as you’re willing to meet up again with someone you dated ten years ago.”

“Ten… years ago?”

Abandoning all formal rank, Se-woong challenged, “You really must think we’re buddies now, don’t you? You ask if I like him? And what if I do? What, would you play matchmaker for us?”

Shin snorted, letting out a breathless scoff. Knowing full well it was not amusement that prompted the laugh, Se-woong felt a defiant spike of irritation flare within him: You’re laughing? It was always like this. Shin remained unshakeably composed while Se-woong burned up inside, unable to endure it.

“Tell me what you mean by ten years ago first, Se-woong-ah,” Shin inquired calmly.

Se-woong ignored the question and pressed forward, “And who says you’re not allowed to touch me? Was it someone else who wrapped his arms around my waist and slept beside me last night?”

Shin flatly retorted, “Don’t talk nonsense. Who else would ever wrap their arms around your waist besides me?”

“Then why the hell are you spouting bullshit about being loose?” Se-woong hissed, his voice trembling with venom. “The one famous for being loose was you, you bastard!”

“Captain Cha Se-woong,” Shin called.

“Captain Cha Se-woong, sir.” The formal response spilled from his lips by sheer reflex.

Even as he recited his rank and name out of ingrained military habit at Shin’s command, heat crept up from beneath Se-woong’s collar, slowly flushing his face crimson. Having to stand at rigid attention before Shin, who sat comfortably perched on the table with arms crossed, felt especially humiliating today. He truly needed to get promoted—as quickly as possible, by whatever means necessary.

In a low, unwavering voice, Shin demanded, “Explain what you meant by ten years ago. And about my ‘consistent taste.’”

“…A slip of the tongue, sir,” Se-woong muttered.

“It wasn’t a slip of the tongue,” Shin murmured, his tone softening into a coaxing hush. “You heard something somewhere. I’m asking what you heard, and from whom, Woong-ah.”

At that coaxing tone, Se-woong pressed his lips even tighter. Why did I have to let that slip? Was it said that one should wet their lips before telling a lie? As preparation for a falsehood, he lightly moistened his dry lips. But the moment his tongue darted out to wet the parched skin, his eyes locked with Shin’s. The dry, detached mask from earlier was gone; Shin’s brow was furrowed into deep, tense creases.

Perhaps breaking up was a blessing in disguise. Had they not, Se-woong would have grabbed Shin by the face right here and kissed him senseless. Though the control room was empty now, what if someone had caught them someday? Could Se-woong ever have borne watching Shin endure the resulting humiliation and disgrace?

Shin checked his wristwatch, his gaze drilling intently into him. “Hurry up. We need to head back up soon. It’s almost time for the informant to check in. What was that about ten years ago?”

Checking his wristwatch, Shin pressed him once more, his voice dropping into a thick rasp. Faced with such unrelenting determination to drag an answer out of him, Se-woong bit down hard on his lower lip. Whenever Shin dug his heels in like this, there was simply no way out.

Hesitating agonizingly, Se-woong muttered, “That senior officer from earlier.”

“What about that senior?” Shin asked flatly.

Se-woong kept his eyes fixed on the tabletop. “He said he’d arrange a get-together for the three of us.”

Tilting his head in calm bewilderment, Shin asked, “Right, so what does that have to do with anything, Se-woong-ah?”

Shin tilted his head with a slight frown, wearing a look of sheer bewilderment as though he genuinely could not grasp the problem.

A frustrated breath caught in Se-woong’s throat. “No, that’s… haah.”

Unable to voice the words that had gathered at the edge of his lips, Se-woong trapped them inside and cast a fleeting glance at the wall clock. After wrestling with his hesitation, he finally made up his mind and parted his lips.

“Haah… he said he’s arranging a meet-up with the girl you dated ten years ago,” Se-woong blurted, looking away. “That senior is her older brother—her oppa—isn’t he?”

“…Oppa?” Shin repeated blankly.

Se-woong scowled as he retorted, “Don’t play dumb. That senior called you ‘brother-in-law’ right up until graduation. Not a single classmate in our cohort was unaware of it.”

Hearing the word oppa spill from Shin’s lips felt completely alien. The syllable seemed to stumble right at the edge of his mouth, as if he could barely manage to force it out.

Musing over the word oppa, repeating it under his breath, Shin tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table where he leaned. Then, as though a realization had struck him, the corners of his mouth curved up into a wide grin.

Shin let out a low chuckle. “Aha—her oppa.”

Seeing that satisfied expression on Shin’s face sent a sudden chill running down Se-woong’s spine, as if he had walked straight into a trap.

It was truly time to head back up now. In the hurriedly established JCS task force room, personnel who had surrendered their weekend would be waiting for their operational leader. Just as Shin seemed to finally make up his mind to join them and began pushing himself up from the table, the heavy door of the control room creaked open.

Hovering uncertainly at the entrance, SFC Kim called out, “Um, Captain Cha, sir? Are you still in here?”

At the sudden interruption, Shin and Se-woong turned their heads toward the door in unison. SFC Kim was looking for Se-woong.

The hesitant voice echoed clearly across the darkened command and control room, where nearly all the lights were extinguished. Because the chamber was entirely sealed off from exterior noise, even the quietest murmur resonated sharper and louder than any sounding alarm.

Anxiety flickering in his eyes, Se-woong looked at Shin. A sudden prickle of apprehension seized him—could their conversation have leaked outside? Even while knowing that soundproofing in the Joint Chiefs’ command and control center was hardly so flimsy, he desperately needed confirmation through Shin’s eyes. Reading the silent plea, Shin gave a subtle shake of his head.

Only then letting out a quiet breath of relief, Se-woong turned his gaze toward SFC Kim. Hovering nervously by the entrance without stepping inside, the sergeant fidgeted in visible distress. With Shin down here the entire time, Kim couldn’t have caused any major blunder just yet. Yet seeing him seek Se-woong out in person made him wonder if something truly serious had occurred.

“Tae-jin-ah,” Se-woong called softly.

To put the flustered sergeant at ease, Se-woong had deliberately used his given name rather than his military rank. If Kim had made a mess in the chaotic task force office during an active emergency, handling it alone might well have overwhelmed him.

Stepping toward the entrance, Se-woong kept his voice calm. “Did something happen?”

“Well, Captain… the thing is, I…” SFC Kim stammered.

Waiting as SFC Kim continued to waffle and hesitate, Se-woong clicked his tongue under his breath.

Turning back toward Shin, Se-woong said, “Major, I’ll take my leave first.”

Glancing back and forth between SFC Kim by the door and Se-woong, Shin scraped the corner of his lower lip with his thumb. Whenever something displeased him, he always tormented his own mouth like this.

Shin gave an indifferent flick of his chin. “Ten minutes.”

Granting the ten-minute grace period with that reluctant nod, Shin checked his wristwatch with a demeanor that made it unmistakably clear he intended to count every single second.

“Report back to headquarters within ten minutes,” Shin added firmly.

It would take at least ten minutes just to walk from here to the task force headquarters. Even so, when a superior officer gave an order, there was no room for dispute. Se-woong could only hope SFC Kim would deliver the core of his business cleanly and concisely along the way.

Se-woong gave a brisk nod as he replied, “Understood, sir.”

“Thank you very much, Major, sir!” SFC Kim bellowed at the top of his lungs.