Chapter 20

A considerable amount of time had already passed since Shin took the wheel of Se-woong’s car with its owner slumbering in the passenger seat. Seeing how drunk Se-woong was, Shin had refrained from touching a single drop of alcohol, which spared him from having to entrust Se-woong’s vehicle to a stranger’s hands.

Though he had adjusted his speed to avoid stopping as much as possible so as not to wake Se-woong, an unavoidable red light brought the vehicle to a halt. As the car rolled to a smooth stop, sure enough, Se-woong’s eyelids fluttered slowly open.

“Uh…” Se-woong mumbled groggily into the dim dashboard light.

“Don’t wake up; go back to sleep,” Shin murmured softly, glancing toward the passenger seat. “We’re still a long way off.”

Stiffening in his seat, Se-woong replied automatically, “No, sir. I’m awake.”

Hearing formal military honorifics tumble from Se-woong’s lips in his half-asleep state, Shin faintly furrowed his brow. If it had been an unconscious reflex, that was the last thing that should have slipped out. How long had there even been a gap in their ranks, for ‘No, sir’ to leap forth ahead of the informal speech ingrained over so many shared years?

He had felt a similar sourness earlier at Yukwoo-jeong whenever Se-woong called for Hyun-woo with every breath. Watching Cha Se-woong in this vulnerable, drunken state seek out someone other than him twisted his gut far more than he cared to admit. That resentment would have been the same whether it was Yuk Hyun-woo or anyone else.

Looking over at the driver’s seat, Se-woong murmured, “You should have just called a designated driver. You must be exhausted too.”

“Captain Cha Se-woong is quite willful. Back and forth as you please,” Shin remarked dryly.

Se-woong rubbed his eyes groggily. “I was just startled when I woke up. Want me to keep it formal?”

The low timbre of Se-woong’s voice, returned once more to its familiar cadence, fell pleasantly upon his ears.

Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Shin said, “We’re heading to my place. If I drop you off first and take a cab from there, it’ll be too late.”

“Ah. Then I’ll call a designated driver to your apartment,” Se-woong suggested, staring out the window. “Why didn’t you just call a driver from Hyun-woo’s place and get dropped off at your home first? You don’t even like driving.”

Though the sentiment behind his words was far from pleasant to hear.

People often described Se-woong as a quiet person, but Shin could never agree. Such claims were made by those who had never seen how Se-woong chatted endlessly about this and that whenever the two of them were alone. Not that Shin had any desire to correct their misconception. He rather liked that Se-woong, so reserved everywhere else, grew talkative only in front of him.

From trivial stories about the soldiers under his command to childhood school memories, morning news headlines, and even the recent weather in Jeju, Se-woong loved sharing every little detail with Shin. On those occasions, Shin was almost always the listener—not for lack of anything to say, but because he genuinely enjoyed listening to Se-woong talk.

Yet now, all of that belonged strictly to the past. Leaving behind the open, unobstructed stretch of the late-night Gangbyeon Expressway and turning into their neighborhood, the car slowed noticeably. With not even the radio playing, the vehicle was swallowed in heavy silence, broken only by the friction of tires against asphalt.

Finding Se-woong’s silence unbearable, Shin rolled down the window. Spring had truly arrived; the breeze drifting inside carried a gentle warmth.

“It’s spring.”

Se-woong murmured under his breath, almost like a soliloquy.

There might have been some truth to the notion that spending ten years together caused two people to share a single brain. Though neither spoke a word, that spring breeze had transported both men back to the exact same season of their youth. Without question, their thoughts ran along the identical path.

It had happened at this exact time of year back then as well.

In the early spring shortly after their fourth year began at the academy, the air between the two cadets carried a peculiar, subtle gravity.

Having moved past the period when they had bared their fangs and snapped at each other at every turn, Se-woong and Shin were maintaining a reasonably amicable rapport as roommates. While far from deeply intimate, they checked in on each other’s daily routines—inquiring whether training had gone smoothly, or how the latest exam had fared. Even so, the volatile tension lingered, threatening to detonate if anyone so much as brushed against a nerve; it was an era where one day unfolded in tranquil peace, while the next felt like walking on thin ice.

Having earned his driver’s license rather late for a cadet, Se-woong had been in the thick of practicing his driving back then. His second brother, Se-gyeom, who was preparing for law school at the time, offered to help him practice behind the wheel to clear his own head; using that as an excuse, the two brothers frequently drove out to rural provinces with light traffic on weekends. It was springtime, making the trips all the more pleasant for catching some fresh air.

That day was yet another weekend when they had ventured into the outskirts for driving practice.

Cruising along a scenic provincial highway and feeling the gentle spring breeze against his skin, Se-woong found his thoughts constantly drifting toward his roommate back at the academy. Thinking of Shin over and over, his heart grew restlessly unsettled for no discernible reason. Had Shin eaten? With the weather so pleasant, was he just lingering inside Hwarang Hall? Or since it was spring… had he gone out on a date?

Whenever he imagined Shin going on a date, his spirits sank without him understanding why. In truth, throughout their time sharing quarters in Hwarang Hall, Se-woong had never once seen Shin go on a date, let alone keep in touch with a woman.

Along the quiet roadside, rows of flowering trees were just beginning to unfurl their pale buds. By the following week, they seemed poised to burst into splendid bloom. And for reasons he could not fathom, Se-woong felt a sudden yearning to share that sight with Shin.

He recalled eating a hurried dinner with his older brother that evening. Declining Se-gyeom’s offer to take him somewhere nice for a lavish meal, Se-woong had simply scarfed down grilled fish at a modest roadside diner before rushing back to Hwarang Hall. He had been in such a hurry because he wanted to deliver the long-awaited news of spring, arriving at last after a grueling winter, to someone as quickly as possible.

That day, Se-gyeom had been unusually anxious about his youngest brother. When he offered to buy a pair of running shoes, Se-woong had put it off until next time; when he offered a proper dinner, Se-woong had dismissed it, visibly anxious to get back to Hwarang Hall. From the older brother’s perspective, it was only natural to worry whether something terrible was troubling his brother at the academy. Even though Se-woong was a fourth-year cadet with no upperclassmen left to discipline him, Se-gyeom’s protective concern was boundless.

Stepping out of the car after his younger brother, Se-gyeom straightened Se-woong’s collar with a look of quiet concern.

“Se-woong-ah, if there’s ever anything else you want to study, just tell me,” Se-gyeom said, adjusting the fabric. “You can quit the academy and pursue something else. I can easily support your studies as much as you need. You know that, right?”

Though such overt fretting was rare for the usually stoic and detached Se-gyeom, Se-woong’s mind had been entirely consumed by the urge to rush inside.

Shaking his head with an easy grin, Se-woong replied, “What’s with this out of nowhere, hyung? I told you, military life suits me perfectly.”

“Studying was what suited you, you idiot,” Se-gyeom countered dryly.

Only after giving Se-woong’s cropped hair a brisk ruffle and briefly pulling him into an embrace did his older brother finally return to the car.

Waving until his brother’s sedan vanished into the distance, Se-woong sprinted toward Hwarang Hall with all his might the moment the taillights disappeared. He finally understood why poets described the spring breeze as fluttering. Cutting through the balmy air at full speed felt exhilarating. Thinking of the person waiting at the end of this sprint, he pushed himself to run even faster.

I should tell him spring is here. Would it sound too sappy if I ask how his day was? Yeah, let’s skip that part. Throughout the entire run, he rehearsed in his head what he would say to Shin.

Bursting into their quarters, Se-woong asked with a bright grin, “Shin, wasn’t the weather incredible today? It looked like the flowers are about to bloom. Did you see them too?”

That was how he had returned to their room, greeting Shin and asking after his day. Even as he wondered if he was being embarrassingly sentimental, he had desperately wanted to hear how Shin’s day had gone. Yet Shin’s mood appeared far from pleasant. In fact, he looked as foul as someone dragged through mud.

“I know nothing about the weather, but you certainly looked happy,” Shin remarked, a chilling edge beneath his voice. “You seemed to love being pawed at by another person. Even after swearing you hated it so much.”

Though spoken with a smile, his words dripped with sheer frost. Was it even possible to smile so brightly while harboring such arctic coldness in one’s eyes? At the very least, it was entirely possible for Lee Shin. After all, that was precisely how he was looking at Se-woong right now.

“…What did you just say?” Se-woong asked, blinking in shock.

Shin chuckled with cold derision. “I wondered why you fought so tooth and nail for overnight passes. Well, your shameless confidence is almost admirable, but you’d better be careful next time. It won’t do you any good if rumors spread that you’re sleeping with men.”

Taking an involuntary step back, Se-woong stammered, “Hey, Lee Shin, what the hell are you—?”

“You should have told me earlier, for fuck’s sake,” Shin snarled, taking a menacing step closer. “You and I have been sharing this room alone together for a whole year now.”

He was still smiling pleasantly. It was an expression entirely at odds with his bloodshot eyes.

Deciphering the accusations hurled at him, Se-woong was apparently someone who slept around with men. And he had concealed that truth from Shin, with whom he had shared quarters for an entire year.

In other words, Shin was saying that having to share a room for a year with someone who messed around with men was utterly revolting.

He needed to clear up the misunderstanding first, yet Se-woong found himself incapable of uttering a single word. Not a shred of what Shin said was true, yet he could not bring himself to deny it. He could only remain frozen where he stood.

Enlightenment struck in a single, blinding flash.

The reason he had been unable to vehemently defend himself was that Shin’s crude words about sleeping with men had finally awakened him to the truth.

I like Shin. I have feelings for Shin, a man. That was why I was so embarrassingly desperate to share the news of spring with him.

I like Shin? I have feelings for a man?

You crazy bastard. You utter lunatic.

Yet the moment he realized his feelings, he was forced to abandon them. Watching Se-woong stand there opening and closing his mouth without uttering a defense, Shin’s demeanor had sunk into an even more arctic chill.

Neither of them spoke a single word that night. He had thought spring had arrived, but the dawn of that night proved colder than any winter day they had endured.

The following morning, Se-woong went to see the cadet squad leader and the tactical officer. Even knowing it was futile, he went to request a room reassignment.

Though their solitude stemmed from other roommates abruptly withdrawing from the academy, he was well aware of the quiet whispers questioning whether he and Shin were receiving preferential treatment by sharing a room meant for four. Citing that very issue, Se-woong argued that he wished to use this opportunity to restore strict discipline.

Until the decision on the reassignment was delivered, Se-woong had to swallow dryly every time he opened the door to their room. While he had never gone out of his way to curry favor, neither had he ever experienced such unconditional animosity; enduring Shin’s frosty gaze proved many times more grueling than the harshest field training.

In the end, the request for a room reassignment was rejected. The tactical staff explained that life at KMA operated strictly on communal discipline, and since residence in Hwarang Hall served as an extension of that training, reassignments could not be granted based on an individual cadet’s personal petition.

Having secured a promise that their rooms would definitively be changed next semester, Se-woong returned to the barracks, only to be confronted by a Shin whose fury far surpassed anything seen before.

“Did you go see the tactical officer?” Shin demanded the second the door clicked shut. “Asking for a room reassignment?”

It was the first exchange of words between them since that fateful night.

Shin took a slow step forward, his eyes boring into Se-woong’s. “Woong-ah, I’m asking if you went to see him.”

“Then you must have heard it was rejected,” Se-woong countered, refusing to avert his eyes. “Even if you find me disgusting, just put up with it. One semester will pass in no time.”

“Why? Who are you planning to share a room with this time?” Shin sneered with venomous contempt.

“Hey, you crazy bastard!” Se-woong snapped, his temper finally exploding into the open. “Don’t you know we’re the only ones rooming as a pair in Hwarang Hall?!”

He finally let loose the fury he had kept bottled up inside. For some reason, color seemed to return to his friend’s face.

Stepping closer with chilling intensity, Shin demanded, “Tell me it isn’t true.”

“Deny what?” Se-woong retorted sharply.

Shin stepped closer, his jaw tight. “That you have nothing going on with that bastard. That’s all you have to say.”