Chapter 8

Pulling a set of clothes from the dressing room, Se-woong tightened the drawstring around his waist with an uneasy expression. Given the difference in their builds, Shin’s clothes had never fit him perfectly to begin with. Yet they had never swamped him to this extent either. Even though he had pulled out the very loungewear he always wore here, the fabric hung far too loose on his frame.

I’ve definitely lost weight. With the military physical fitness test around the corner, hoping to achieve the top-tier Special Grade in this condition seemed completely out of reach.

From the kitchen, Shin called out, “Woong-ah, beer?”

“I’m good,” Se-woong replied.

While Shin retrieved a beer from the refrigerator, Se-woong hastily sat down on the floor against the sofa, hoping to conceal how baggy the oversized T-shirt looked on him. At best, it merely bought him a few moments of borrowed time. With Shin’s razor-sharp eye for detail, there was no chance he would let it pass without comment. Sure enough, making a mockery of his petty scheme, Shin tipped the beer can to his lips as he walked over, his expression sharpening into a razor-thin edge.

Shin lowered the can, his brow furrowing. “Looks like you dropped five or six kilos.”

“I haven’t weighed myself, so I wouldn’t know,” Se-woong mumbled, averting his gaze. “I’ve been working lots of overtime lately, so maybe I lost a bit.”

“That isn’t just ‘a bit,’” Shin retorted flatly.

Swallowing another gulp of beer, Shin clicked his tongue. Under that relentless gaze sweeping slowly from the nape of his neck down over his collarbones, chest, and stomach, Se-woong felt a fleeting twinge of regret for following him inside. Unable to undo his decision now, Se-woong awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, partly hoping to conceal the loose collar of the shirt.

Se-woong offered a sheepish grin. “People always drop some weight when spring comes. Even like this, I won’t miss the Special Grade on the fitness test. You know that.”

“At most, you’d drop a kilo or two,” Shin retorted. “Besides, do you think you get Special Grade because you’re naturally gifted with stamina? You get it because you push yourself like a demon.”

Se-woong waved a hand dismissively toward the couch. “It amounts to the same thing, so why split hairs? Hurry up and sit down so we can open this. But why did you suddenly buy a laptop anyway? The box is huge for a laptop. Was it crazy expensive?”

Sitting down on the sofa with a scowl of obvious displeasure, Shin merely shrugged. After making such a fuss about how expensive it was and calling someone over just to haul the delivery inside, he now looked at the parcel as if it hardly mattered whether it existed or not.

Did he buy something with a twenty-inch screen? Se-woong sliced through the tape sealing the massive cardboard box with a utility knife. But what emerged from inside was not a laptop. Sitting within the oversized package was the newest model of a video game console. It truly was something inconsequential to Shin—and something Se-woong loved.

Looking up in disbelief, Se-woong said, “Hey, they sent the wrong item. Call them and get it returned.”

He pulled the flaps of the box shut and retracted the utility knife’s blade with a sharp click.

Shin gazed down at him from the sofa, showing little surprise, as if this reaction had been entirely expected. Leaning forward, he reached over Se-woong’s shoulder without warning. His long arm easily plucked the utility knife from Se-woong’s grasp.

Lifting the console box out of the packaging, Shin peeled off the seal without hesitation. Printed in tiny letters on the sticker was a warning: Non-refundable once opened. Exactly what he had intended.

“It’s the right delivery,” Shin said, tossing the peeled sticker aside. “Isn’t this what friends do? We’re friends now, so let’s play games together.”

“Hey, Lee Shin.” Se-woong’s eyes narrowed as he let out a dry, exasperated breath.

“You like playing soccer games on this, and if I want to hang out with you, this is the least I should have,” Shin pointed out.

Scowling slightly, Se-woong asked, “Hang out, my foot. Why did you lie and say it was a laptop?”

“If I had told you it was a console, you wouldn’t have come. You should have known I’d pull something like this. Besides, what would people say if they heard someone my age bought a gaming console? A major has to maintain some dignity.”

Shin crushed the empty beer can in his hand and tossed it onto the table. Then, catching the nape of Se-woong seated at his feet, he tugged the collar of the T-shirt to peer down at his flat back. It happened in an instant, giving Se-woong no time to pull away.

When Se-woong had emerged dressed earlier, his silhouette alone had suggested he had gotten thinner. As he had mentioned, he was prone to shedding weight in the spring. Yet looking down at him sitting below the sofa, it was difficult to dismiss it as just a little weight loss. The cervical vertebrae at the base of his neck protruded with stark sharpness.

He was not built to pack on bulky mass, so sculpted muscularity was never expected, but consistent workouts had kept his muscle tone remarkably dense. Now, however, the back exposed to Shin revealed that what little flesh he once possessed had wasted away, leaving barely any muscle behind.

Looking like this, and he still worries about someone else not sleeping.

“Special Grade, my ass,” Shin snapped. “In this condition, you won’t even make First Grade.”

Se-woong flinched slightly and pulled his collar back up. “…Why are you cursing at me? The test is in April. I still have time.”

Leaning back against the sofa, Shin murmured, “Woong-ah, April is the day after tomorrow.”

On top of that, the fact that Se-woong bristled and flinched away at a mere look thoroughly soured Shin’s mood. In the end, driven by a burning thirst, Shin went and retrieved another can of beer.

“Another one?” Se-woong asked, glancing up from the floor.

Shin cracked the tab with an irritated snort. “Always nagging. Since when does beer count as real alcohol? You ought to drink some yourself and put on a little weight.”

The crisp snap of the can opening resonated through the living room. Through the slightly ajar window, a cool yet gentle night breeze drifted inside.

At a time like this, when he had to keep his wits sharp and his guard up, alcohol was something he strictly needed to avoid. How common was it for someone to make a mistake under the influence? Though he wasn’t avoiding it because of herbal medicine as he had claimed to Major Kang earlier, this was the real reason Shin had been staying away from drink lately.

Right now, however, enduring this parched thirst was far more agonizing than the effort required to maintain his composure.

“How are things with Major Kang?” Se-woong asked quietly. “Does he still keep picking at you like that?”

Taking a sip from the can, Shin replied, “More or less the same. Still, he isn’t a bad person. He’s touchy about promotions, but he knows how to look out for his subordinates. It’s not like he’s the only one who became bitter after falling behind his peers. It won’t last.”

Se-woong casually examined the game console Shin had insisted on tearing open.

The console was the highest-spec model on the market. There was no chance Shin had researched and compared the options; he had simply picked the most expensive one available. He firmly believed that things performed in direct proportion to what one paid for them.

“Are you like that too?” Shin asked. “Feeling like you might turn bitter because I was promoted ahead of you?”

Resting his elbows on his parted knees, Shin tapped the beer can lightly against his palm, his expression nonchalant. As he swallowed a mouthful of beer, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbed heavily.

Watching him, Se-woong let out a deflated chuckle. Even without speaking the words aloud, he felt like telling Shin to save his worries for things that actually mattered.

Others easily claimed Shin had advanced quickly thanks to his father’s influence, but Se-woong believed the father’s shadow actually caused people to underestimate Shin’s abilities. Just as standing before an overwhelming glare obscures the actual person, leaving only a silhouette in view.

Se-woong adopted an exaggerated tone of military formality. “You made major because you are exceptional, Major Lee. Besides, among my graduating class, I happen to be walking quite the golden path myself, sir.”

Shin chuckled along at that.

It was no lie. During his time at Gyeryongdae, Se-woong had been personally selected by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff upon the recommendation of the Army Personnel Commander. That alone granted him enormous credit in his military career, and unless an unforeseen incident occurred, his future promotions were practically paved in stone.

While Se-woong would never bring it up himself and most people remained unaware, the fact that his brother’s father-in-law was the Army Chief of Staff was unlikely to be entirely without influence behind closed doors.

“And why would I ever be jealous of you?” Se-woong added softly. “When you do well, I’m genuinely happy for you.”

Se-woong’s expression was disarmingly gentle as he spoke. Shin had to crush the helpless beer can just to keep his hand from unconsciously reaching for Se-woong’s hair. He longed to sink his fingers into those soft strands, but doing so would surely cause Se-woong to pull back. If Se-woong decided to stand up and announce he was leaving… The mere thought caused the veins on the back of Shin’s hand to bulge taut.

“Laying on the flattery, Captain Cha,” Shin remarked dryly.

Se-woong grinned back at him. “Did it please your ears, sir? Should I offer you a little more?”

Shin snorted and leaned back against the sofa cushions. It certainly sounded pleasant to his ears. What pleased him even more was the fact that he was the only one on the receiving end of such banter. Ah, then again, he’s affectionate with his older brothers, so maybe I’m not the only one.

Sitting together in such tranquility, it felt barely different from how things used to be. Exchanging idle banter, occasionally venting about headquarters business, comforting one another when exhausted, celebrating good news side by side.

Wouldn’t it be fine just living like this? As long as no one else stepped between Cha Se-woong and him, it felt as though they could go on together like this for a very long time.

This was precisely the dynamic Shin currently sought. When an ‘unusual state’ persisted long enough, a moment arrived where it became the ‘new normal.’ What once felt strange grew familiar, settling into ordinary routine. Shin was waiting for this bizarre state—neither friends nor lovers—to become Se-woong’s new normal. Once that happened, Se-woong would no longer think of running away.

Breaking the comfortable quiet, Se-woong asked, “I heard Min-hyung is going overseas as an expat. When is she supposed to come back?”

Shin arched an eyebrow in surprise. “You heard? How? Are the two of you keeping in touch behind my back?”