Chapter 52

On his way back from the hospital, an intense, sudden craving washed over him. It was a stark contrast to that morning, when the mere metallic stench of tap water had sent him gagging violently into the sink. The kalguksu he had forced down for lunch had settled surprisingly well, and by evening, suppressing his surging appetite had become an impossible task.

Gripping the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green, Gi-hyeon let his deepest desire slip.

“I want samgyetang.”

The moment the words left his lips, the passing thought morphed into a ferocious hunger that practically consumed him. With no samgyetang restaurants near his neighborhood, he was forced to drive all the way to the establishment Jo Yeon-oh used to frequent for takeout.

“Could you please give me extra seasoned garlic?” he asked, making a request he never would have uttered in his life.

The sudden thought of the sharply sour pickled garlic had made his mouth water uncontrollably. The restaurant employee nodded cheerfully, assuring him she could pack as much as he wanted.

“Which type of samgyetang would you like? This one is excellent for women’s skin, this is packed with vitality-boosting herbs for men, and this one here is highly recommended for nourishing expectant mothers.”

Having simply ordered samgyetang the second he walked through the door, Gi-hyeon listened patiently as the server presented the menu and launched into a detailed explanation. Offering a faint smile in response to her bright enthusiasm, he thoroughly scanned the options. The variations seemed to depend entirely on the specific medicinal herbs stuffed into the chicken.

“By any chance… the samgyetang for expectant mothers doesn’t contain any herbs that might be harmful during pregnancy, does it? I’m asking because I honestly don’t know much about this.”

“Oh my, you’re a father-to-be!” The woman beamed. “Of course not. Far from being harmful, it’s packed exclusively with beneficial ingredients! Pregnant women absolutely adore our samgyetang.”

Instantly sold, Gi-hyeon ordered two whole chickens to go. Asking him to take a seat, the server shouted the order and quantity toward the bustling kitchen before turning back to him with a fond smile.

“Your wife is so incredibly lucky, having such a handsome husband fetching samgyetang for her. So tall and genuinely handsome, too.”

Gi-hyeon simply offered a quiet chuckle. He could hardly confess that there was no wife, and he fully intended to devour both chickens entirely by himself. Because he opted for the semi-cooked version, which the server insisted tasted better when boiled fresh at home, the food emerged quickly. He paid, grabbed the heavy bags, and headed straight home the moment he slid into the driver’s seat.

He honestly wondered if he had ever been this dedicated to eating three square meals a day in his entire life. Consuming breakfast, lunch, and dinner so religiously was a miracle usually only achieved when Jo Yeon-oh spent his entire day off plastered to Gi-hyeon’s side. They say a man only truly matures once he has a child. I guess it’s true, he mused, pulling into his apartment complex’s surface lot. He gathered his bags and popped the car door open.

As he strode toward the communal entrance, a harsh white beam swept across his feet. He reflexively turned his head toward the sedan idling with its headlights blindingly bright. Standing right there beside it was Manager Yoo.

“…Mr. So.”

Gi-hyeon offered no reply.

The manager called out to him again, his expression painted with deep discomfort, but Gi-hyeon remained rooted to the spot, wordless. A quick glance at the license plate confirmed the sleek sedan belonged to Jo Yeon-oh. There was absolutely no chance Manager Yoo had shown up alone. Although Yoo was the only one standing outside, Gi-hyeon knew exactly who was lurking in the pitch-black interior. He stared unblinkingly at the heavily tinted rear window. A faint prickle of irritation spiked in his chest; he had just wanted to rush upstairs and gorge himself on his simmering chicken in peace.

“…Are you here to collect his things?”

He hadn’t expected the response to his previous demand to arrive in quite this manner. At Gi-hyeon’s blunt question, Manager Yoo offered a slow, heavy nod. Exhaling a sharp sigh, Gi-hyeon carelessly muttered for him to come inside. Even as he punched the passcode into the communal keypad, it felt as though only Manager Yoo was shadowing him. Right up until the electronic lock chimed and the glass doors slid open.

Yet, when Gi-hyeon subconsciously cast a glance backward, another figure had materialized beside the sedan. The glaring headlights violently backlit the man, plunging his face into absolute shadow, but that towering height and those impossibly broad shoulders belonged to one person alone: Jo Yeon-oh.

Although the man’s expression was completely devoured by the darkness, Gi-hyeon couldn’t shake the visceral sensation of their eyes locking. Jo Yeon-oh immediately began patting down his chest, clearly hunting for a cigarette. He had pulled the exact same stunt last time; this pathetic habit of desperately reaching for a smoke the second their eyes met was incredibly obnoxious.

Without uttering a single syllable, Gi-hyeon ripped his gaze away and stepped into the lobby. The soft thud of Manager Yoo’s footsteps trailed quietly behind him. Fortunately, he had already finished packing up the apartment. The bastard’s clothes were boxed up and ready to be hauled out.

Leaving Manager Yoo stranded awkwardly in the entryway, Gi-hyeon ventured deeper into the apartment and dragged out two massive suitcases. Because the suits inside were obscenely expensive, he had originally considered letting the man inside to pack them properly, but now he loathed the idea of even Manager Yoo crossing his threshold. Manager Yoo seemed somewhat taken aback by this frigid treatment, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Shoving the heavy luggage into the man’s hands, Gi-hyeon stood firm in the entryway.

“Have someone come and collect the goldfish. I can’t take care of them anymore.”

He felt a twinge of guilt for the little fish he had grown fond of, but he now had a far more precious life to nurture. His icy resolve clearly flustered the manager.

“…Mr. So.”

“It’s late. Drive safely, and please leave now.”

With that final dismissal, Gi-hyeon slammed the door shut. Manager Yoo had committed no crime, but Gi-hyeon simply couldn’t stomach the sight of anyone remotely connected to that bastard. Heavily, he let out a breath and retreated further into his empty apartment.

In the end, he skipped dinner that night. Even So Gi-hyeon was entitled to a miserable day every now and then.

Having starved himself, he emerged from a quick shower and collapsed lifelessly onto the sofa, only for his phone to buzz with a call from Cheol-jin. Staring intensely at the glowing screen, Gi-hyeon debated ignoring it entirely before finally relenting with a defeated sigh. It was better to suffer the mild annoyance of answering than to make the professional athlete worry, potentially wrecking his physical conditioning for the season.

“Dr. So! Did you really just quit without telling me?!” 

Following the frantic barrage of questions about his sudden resignation, Cheol-jin eagerly pitched the idea of Gi-hyeon joining the national swimming team’s medical staff for the upcoming Olympics.

“You’re not even the head coach, you punk. Why are you the one making that call?”

“Oh, come on! For someone with your skills, Dr. So, our head coach would welcome you with open arms.” 

Judging by his enthusiastic tone, the kid had already run the idea past the entire coaching staff. Gi-hyeon appreciated the high regard, but he had quit his job for a very specific, monumental reason. This offer was impossible to accept.

“Cheol-jin-ah, I really appreciate you thinking of me. But I quit because I have a pressing personal matter at home, so I won’t be able to take the national team trainer position.”

“Ah… Did something bad happen, Doc?” 

“Nothing serious, just some things to sort out. Let’s grab a meal later. My treat.”

Cheol-jin clearly sounded disappointed, but Gi-hyeon possessed neither the physical nor emotional stamina to humor him any longer. The realization that this agonizing, bone-deep exhaustion was entirely the fault of his mutating hormones made him feel bizarrely alienated from his own body. He terminated the call abruptly. Too drained to even bother drying his dripping hair, he abandoned the living room to head for his bedroom, but a sudden, eerie sensation washed over him.

Marching over to the wall panel, he killed the living room lights and crept out onto the balcony. The angle didn’t offer a crystal-clear view of the parking lot, so he cracked the window open and peered down. The first thing that caught his eye was a vibrant, glowing red ember.

“Why the hell is he still out there…” he muttered, genuinely baffled.

The man, carelessly leaning his long, imposing frame against the sedan, was silently dragging on a cigarette. The shadows completely masked his features, but Gi-hyeon knew exactly who it was down to his marrow. Wispy white tendrils of smoke curled upwards from the figure slumped against the expensive car. He must have drawn deeply on the butt, because the glowing red ember dimmed for a fraction of a second before flaring violently toward the filter.

Reflexively, Gi-hyeon threw a glance at the wall clock ticking in his dark living room. Between spacing out after his shower and taking Cheol-jin’s call, a significant chunk of time had passed since he had handed over the luggage. He couldn’t begin to fathom why the bastard was still loitering down there. Just as he let out a frustrated sigh and turned to retreat inside, Gi-hyeon’s breath hitched violently in his throat.

The visceral sensation of their eyes locking paralyzed him. No. It wasn’t just a feeling. Their eyes had absolutely met across the dark expanse. Clicking his tongue in pure annoyance, he hurriedly slammed the window shut and fled the balcony. He marched straight into his bedroom and threw himself under the covers. Unwanted thoughts threatened to swarm his mind, so he forcefully cataloged tomorrow’s endless checklist until he finally squeezed his eyes shut.

Even against the back of his eyelids, the phantom afterimage of that vibrant red ember continued to burn.

***