Chapter 7

Stepping into the elevator from the apartment complex’s underground parking garage, Shin checked his smartphone screen. A notification had popped up indicating that Se-woong’s car had entered the gates moments ago. Everything was proceeding precisely as calculated.

Picturing Se-woong waiting inside his apartment by the time he reached the floor, Shin’s tense lips softened into an easy line.

He would have placed the parcel neatly on the coffee table and would now be checking the fish food by the aquarium. It wasn’t as though a goldfish’s belly would rupture from being fed twice in one day, yet Se-woong would be fretting over the fish overeating, agonizing over whether Shin had remembered to feed them this morning. All the while, he would surely be inspecting the fish’s torn tail fin—checking if the tear had worsened or if it needed extra care. The man truly worried about far too many things.

Confident of the scene awaiting him, Shin unlocked and opened the front door. According to the picture in his mind, a pair of dress shoes ought to be placed neatly in the entryway. A pair of well-worn black leather shoes, molded to the contours of Se-woong’s feet yet impeccably polished through meticulous care. Yet the foyer stood utterly empty. This had not been part of his calculations.

Striding slowly into the living room, Shin scanned his surroundings just in case. Sure enough, the parcel he had asked for sat quietly on the coffee table. This meant Se-woong had indeed stopped by. Since the entrance alert had flashed roughly twenty minutes ago, that much was undeniable.

Inside the aquarium illuminating the dim living room with a cool glow, two fish swam placidly back and forth, as if nothing had happened.

Did he really just drop off the parcel and leave?

“Ha,” Shin scoffed under his breath.

A hollow, incredulous laugh broke from his lips.

After glaring at the cardboard box for a long moment, Shin turned back toward the entryway and slipped his shoes back on.

Judging by the timing, Se-woong was most likely still within the complex. Their paths might have crossed unseen, given that resident and visitor parking were segregated. Principled to a fault, Cha Se-woong never parked in the resident spots despite knowing full well his car remained registered under the building system.

Knowing his habits, he would idle the engine to warm up the car before setting off. If so, wouldn’t they cross paths near the complex gate? Only now did Shin regret setting alerts strictly for vehicle entry while muting departure notifications.

Fortuitously, the elevator remained parked right on his floor where he had stepped off. His calculations had held true ever since leaving Yukwoo-jeong, and even the elevator seemed to cooperate with him, yet Cha Se-woong alone refused to conform to his wishes. Was it simply not falling into place, or was the man deliberately pulling away?

Feeling the heavy machinery descend through the shaft, Shin dialed Se-woong’s number. Ring after ring sounded through the receiver, but no answer came. Calling a second time yielded the same result. Just as he was about to jab the end-call button in growing irritation, the line clicked.

“Yes?” Se-woong replied.

Instead of the familiar, soft ‘Yeah, Shin-ah’ he should have heard, an impersonal, monosyllabic response came through the line. Shin slowly closed and opened his eyes, reigning in the sudden turmoil in his chest. When was the last time he had heard Se-woong call him ‘Shin-ah’ in that sweet, tender voice?

Shin’s temper flared into the receiver. “What do you mean, ‘yes’? Where are you? Why did you leave already?”

“Ah,” Se-woong stated in that stiff, formal tone. “I left the parcel on the living room table before stepping out.”

Just as the rigid formality made Shin wonder whether Se-woong was alone, another voice filtered through the line asking if that was Major Lee Shin. Only then did the gentle murmur of outdoor ambient noise register in Shin’s ears.

Shin demanded coldly, “Who’s with you?”

“…Ah. I’m with Sergeant Kim,” Se-woong confessed after a brief hesitation.

Sergeant Kim, Sergeant Kim… He was a non-commissioned officer transferred to the Chairman’s Secretariat around the same time Se-woong had been posted there. Remembering the background dossier he had pulled because the man arrived alongside Se-woong, Shin recalled a note stating the sergeant’s father was a wealthy financier in private lending. He had wondered how someone who seemed so clueless managed to land a post in the Chairman’s Secretariat, but clearly, it hadn’t been through merit.

Still, why Cha Se-woong would be keeping company with that airhead at this hour was utterly incomprehensible. The only passengers who had gotten into his car were Major Kang and Oh Hee-chan.

Keeping the call connected, Shin strode briskly toward the complex gates. Se-woong was answering from outdoors. Given the timeframe, he couldn’t have driven off yet, which led to the obvious conclusion that he was somewhere nearby. And sure enough, Se-woong was standing right outside the convenience store near the apartment entrance. Alongside that very same airhead.

Chilly night air brushed against his skin. The daytime warmth had teased that spring had truly arrived, yet the night remained bitterly brisk.

“Se-woong-ah,” Shin called out.

At the sound of his name, Se-woong, who had been balancing precarious inches from the curb, pulled the phone from his ear. Hearing the voice as well, Sergeant Kim snapped his relaxed posture straight into a disciplined stance. Whatever the man lacked in workplace competence, military bearing had certainly been drilled into him. Perhaps because both were dressed in civilian clothes, neither looked particularly like a soldier.

Bringing a sharp hand to his brow, Kim Tae-jin shouted, “Loyalty! Sergeant First Class Kim Tae-jin, Secretariat! Good evening, Major Lee, sir!”

Shin offered a smooth smile and an acknowledging nod at Sergeant Kim’s immaculate salute. Reassured by the major’s polite acknowledgment, the sergeant casually tugged on Se-woong’s sleeve, entirely oblivious to the dark shadow crossing Shin’s eyes.

I thought he had military discipline drilled into him, but apparently not. Or perhaps Cha Se-woong has been far too lenient with that dimwit.

Sergeant Kim turned to Se-woong, shifting on his feet. “Then, Captain Cha, may I take my leave first?”

“The major here is going to think I held you hostage,” Se-woong teased dryly.

Sergeant Kim flailed his hands in panic. “N-No, Captain, that’s not what I meant at all! What I was trying to say was…”

Chuckling softly, Se-woong lightly patted Sergeant Kim’s shoulder, signaling him to head on. Bowing deeply from the waist, the sergeant sprinted toward the apartment complex. Just as he cleared the main archway, he glanced back and bent himself into another ninety-degree bow. He’s going to trip and hurt himself at this rate. Se-woong’s brow furrowed in anxious concern.

All the while, Shin’s gaze remained fixed solely on Se-woong.

Cha Se-woong had always possessed a soft spot for pathetic, clumsy things, and for that very reason, Shin loathed every single pathetic, clumsy thing in existence. Even so, he had never been able to stop him—just as he could never bring himself to throw away a goldfish with a torn fin.

Shin stepped closer, his voice laced with suspicion. “Were you two close? How did you end up standing outside my building with him?”

“There’s no ‘close’ about it,” Se-woong replied with an easy shrug. “I ran into him by chance when I stopped by the convenience store. He mentioned he lives here. If I’d known earlier, I would have offered him a ride with the others.”

“His chauffeur would have picked him up anyway,” Shin retorted dryly.

Se-woong’s eyes widened in surprise. “A chauffeur? Sergeant Kim has a private driver? Well, considering he lives in this complex… yeah, I suppose that makes sense.”

Seeing that understanding gleam in Se-woong’s eyes, Shin felt an almost childish sense of relief wash over him. Merely knowing Se-woong wouldn’t view that clumsy yet obscenely wealthy subordinate with pure pity brought him immense satisfaction.

Folding his arms across his chest, Shin asked, “So, why were you leaving like that? Without even telling me you were going.”

“You asked me to bring in the package, so I set it safely inside,” Se-woong reasoned, exhaling a faint breath. “My job was done, so of course I should leave. What, did you expect us to unbox your new laptop together?”

“Stay the night,” Shin pleaded.

Shin held Se-woong in place with a plaintive, uncharacteristically subdued tone. For the briefest instant, Se-woong appeared to waver before wiping any trace of emotion from his gaze. Though the man tried desperately not to show it, Shin knew Se-woong was feeling tenderly protective of him.

Se-woong must be aching for him right now. Hearing Shin sound so vulnerable would distress him, leaving him torn and conflicted simply because he wished to give in to Shin’s request. That, too, was an outcome Shin welcomed. Before Cha Se-woong, Shin was more than willing to play the pathetic soul.

“Stay over, Se-woong-ah,” Shin urged, softening his gaze. “I don’t want to sleep alone. What was it, a laptop unboxing ceremony? We can do that together too.”

“…Why are you being like this, Major Lee?” Se-woong whispered, his voice trembling faintly.

Reaching out, Shin said, “I won’t do anything. I just want us to get a good night’s sleep together for the first time in a while. You haven’t been sleeping well lately either.”

Se-woong’s brows dipped once more into a troubled slant.

As if weighed down by sheer exhaustion, Shin dragged a palm down his face. A deep crease appeared above one eye. A double eyelid so fine it went unnoticed on ordinary days invariably surfaced only when exhaustion took over. Even though he had looked perfectly radiant and healthy at the restaurant earlier.

Biting his lower lip, Se-woong let out an imperceptible sigh.

Cunning bastard.

Shin knew full well that wearing that exact face and speaking with that tone made it impossible for Se-woong to refuse. Even seeing through every layer of calculation, Se-woong found it agonizingly difficult to be cold. He truly looked desperate for sleep, and that sleepless exhaustion was undeniably real. Just as it was for Se-woong himself.

To Se-woong, this side of Shin was nothing new.

Early in their commissioned service, while academy classmates being assigned to the same division was relatively common, having their very first posting fall within the same company was an undeniable stroke of luck. In a company of roughly one hundred soldiers, Shin and Se-woong each commanded a platoon of twenty, spending two years side by side as platoon leaders.

Having lived together at Hwarang Hall and shared their first duty station, the two were suddenly struck with severe separation anxiety when their subsequent reassignments came. Unaccustomed to nights without each other by their sides, both fell victim to agonizing bouts of insomnia.

To make matters worse, the distance between their new duty stations was vast. Shin was stationed at the far edge of Gangwon Province, while Se-woong was tucked into a secluded corner of the West Coast. Tormented by sleeplessness, the two met in Seoul every single weekend, spending the precious hours doing nothing but sleeping before parting once more. It was their way of catching up on all the sleep they had missed during the grueling week. Though, of course, sleep had hardly been the only thing they did.

Once Shin drifted off, he would sleep soundly without so much as touching a meal, eventually returning to his unit with his complexion glowing and refreshed. Then, by the following weekend, he would reappear with parched, sallow skin and bloodshot, rabbit-red eyes.

“I’m telling you to stay,” Shin urged, his gaze darkening. “Don’t make me beg like a desperate fool.”

Se-woong yielded with a quiet breath. “…Desperate, my foot. Fine, let’s go. I’ll leave after I see you fall asleep.”

And so, there had been no other choice.

Se-woong had no way of turning his back on Shin, not when the man wore the very same bloodshot eyes from those days when he couldn’t sleep a single wink. No, the truth was, Se-woong had never learned how to turn him away.