INV 13

“Was it good?”

Even today, Chacha had been sobbing and wailing, spilling out gasping moans, only to get up and leave as if nothing had happened once the intercourse was finished—throwing out nothing but a useless question.

Without even caring about aftercare.

And Kwon Yihyeon found that void unpleasant. It wasn’t just the feeling of a guardian unable to keep up with a troublemaker left by the water’s edge; it wasn’t something like that…

By this point, Kwon Yihyeon had no choice but to admit it.

The fact that he had come to care about Chacha quite a bit.

‘It’s not love.’

There is no way his emotions could be described by such a cringeworthy word.

However, evasion was no longer possible.

Until then, Chacha was, how should he put it, like a pile of trash that suddenly appeared in his life. Like a nuisance—too heavy to drag along, yet too stinking to ignore. Furthermore, to be told to suddenly serve such an uninvited guest of life politely and even provide him with his body, he had been angry first. Serve what?

It was fortunate that Chacha liked Kwon Yihyeon’s insolence, but permitted insolence was not freedom; it was nothing more than a talent show performance.

He could breathe, but the aftertaste was foul.

So, during that time, he hadn’t thought deeply about Chacha. If he just gave him his body, his family would be safe and Chacha would harass Kwon Yihyeon less. Since the fox bastard was satisfied with just playing house, it was actually a relief for the unskilled Kwon Yihyeon. By Kwon Yihyeon’s standards, if he respected his partner reasonably and did the night work properly, he had done his part.

If the partner were human, he might have cared a little about those delicate feelings, but was there really a need to go that far for a Jae Angshin who was as old as time? A shrewd person would have acted even sweeter—like a tongue inside the mouth—toward a Jae Angshin, but Kwon Yihyeon was a bit too weak-stomached to act that way toward a being that had threatened his family. He would fulfill his duties, but he intended to live without paying him any mind. That was why Chacha was not number one, but number two among Kwon Yihyeon’s various headaches. However…

‘…He really was beautiful.’

Looking at the space Chacha had left behind, he couldn’t stop this thought. Of course, Chacha was handsome. He was a beauty no one could take their eyes off of and possessed a gaze that bewitched people. But Kwon Yihyeon’s thoughts did not stay on Chacha’s outer shell. Naturally, if the wrapping paper is pretty, one wants to buy and eat more, and one’s heart flutters more when undoing the knots. But in the end, that was just the shell. For a split second, Kwon Yihyeon saw the essence of the being called Chacha. Perhaps that was the problem.

In 그 moment, Chacha was like the universe. Infinite void and silence… Because it was providence itself, it was overwhelmingly beautiful. Usually, when a tiny creature sees something beautiful enough to crush its ego and existence, it goes mad or loses its mind. That is why overwhelming beauty invokes fear. Because it destroys the person who faces it.

But for some reason, Kwon Yihyeon seemed not to be an ordinary tiny creature, and so when the void peered into him, he peered back into the void and thought it was quite beautiful. He could never go back to how things were before. It wounded his pride, but he had to admit what needed admitting.

The cold, hard fact that he had been charmed by the disaster in some way, and that he had come to regard this disaster a bit more seriously.

‘Love doesn’t suit me. Rather than that…’

Contemplating the “desire for possession” rising through his gut with a cynical eye, Kwon Yihyeon lightly brushed his neck. The scratch had disappeared without a trace. Since it was a wound so shallow that blood couldn’t even flow to begin with, the scab might have just fallen off due to the intense sex. However, the skin was excessively smooth. On top of that, standing in front of the mirror, Kwon Yihyeon realized that at least two of his old scars had vanished.

One was a scar on his forehead from being hit by a pencil case someone threw when he was a child. Now that he was an adult, it was a mark one could only notice by looking very closely, but a scar was a scar, and such things usually don’t disappear. The other was a burn sustained while cooking for himself. Not knowing that he should go to the hospital immediately for such things and thinking rinsing it with cold water would be enough, the boy was discovered late by his cousin noona and headed to the hospital, but it had left quite a large scar. That, too, had vanished.

He hadn’t asked anything special of Chacha. He had merely vented his lust. Yet, this was the result. If he properly acted even a little more charmingly toward Chacha, even greater results might follow.

So that means, so to speak, this.

The reason the coiled disaster does not attack anything, does not break anything, and does not become a disaster might only be “himself”…

Now that he was out of contact with Park Seongjun, Kwon Yihyeon had not received updates on the rumors circulating in the world. However, if things were like this, others who knew nothing would mistakenly believe that Kwon Yihyeon could control Chacha.

Without knowing that such a thing was a pitch-black lie.

‘…I feel like I’m on the palm of a Buddha’s hand at every moment.’

If Chacha followed Kwon Yihyeon’s will, it would not be because Kwon Yihyeon controlled Chacha, but because Chacha had taken pity on Kwon Yihyeon.

But there are problems scattered around that are bigger than the “mistake” of the world.

What if Kwon Yihyeon gets hurt? What if he is wounded by the world?

Perhaps Chacha would tear the world apart. Because he wouldn’t even tolerate Kwon Yihyeon himself harming his own body.

But would the world leave Kwon Yihyeon alone?

Life was bound to leave scars on the person walking upon it, and someday, Kwon Yihyeon would be shattered or collapse.

But Kwon Yihyeon would stand up again after that. He believed that much about himself.

However, even so, he was afraid of the fact that the Jae Angshin would surely be enraged upon seeing a wounded Kwon Yihyeon. To put it bluntly, let’s say there is someone who hurt Kwon Yihyeon. Then Chacha would try to kill that person, and perhaps he wouldn’t be able to be stopped. Someone would die like that. It would be a pitiful thing. But what if the reason Kwon Yihyeon collapsed wasn’t particularly anyone’s fault?

What if it’s the fault of this society or this era?

Kwon Yihyeon, as an ant-like human, knows how to adapt to those things, but the Jae Angshin has no reason to be so understanding.

Kwon Yihyeon thought that Park Seongjun’s noona likely had no intention of wounding him. He saw the fear in her eyes and guessed it was a mistake. But Chacha wouldn’t think so. He managed to divert the topic this time, but there was no guarantee he could do so next time.

He had to do something. “Kwon Yihyeon” had to do something.

However, the Great Mountain still only lets the scent of incense drift enough to make one’s nose turn. He called Park Seongjun, but he didn’t pick up. Is he busy? But come to think of it, did calls always cut off like this? Realizing that it wasn’t that Park Seongjun wasn’t picking up, but that the number had been blocked, Kwon Yihyeon let out a hollow laugh. Look at this?

⋆˙⟡

Meanwhile, Park Seongjun had postponed all of today’s scheduled appointments and was holed up in his room. No one had locked him in, but it wasn’t exactly of his own will either.

Because a modern person deprived of their phone is bound to die in every sense of the word.

It seemed they had taken it for fear he would contact Kwon Yihyeon, and in his honest heart, his anger flared at the fact that he was having his phone taken at this age.

In this household, Park Seongjun was treated as a young master who would inherit the family business, but he had no actual decision-making power. If they judged something to be “dangerous” for him, they simply brushed everything aside. He knew their hearts—how they cherished a precious genius since they were few in number—and he knew how dangerous this world was, but sometimes these things drove Park Seongjun crazy.

Just as his mood was sinking lower, he was briefly given his phone back, being told there was a call from the academic affairs office.

“…”

Park Seongjun had become a Paksu Mudang since his first year of high school after receiving the Bodhisattva, but the family encouraged him to graduate from university, and Park Seongjun had willingly accepted. In truth, Park Seongjun also knew. That the recommendation to enter university was the family’s consideration to soothe the “young master.”

Since long ago, Park Seongjun loved the lives of ordinary people. Whatever Heavenly Mandate was, his heart for loving his flesh and blood came first, so he had stepped onto the front lines from an age so young it could be called childhood, but if there was an opportunity to observe secular life, he wanted to do it even if the schedule was unreasonable.

Anyway, he hadn’t thought much of it when he got the phone back. His cousin hyung, who had been keeping the phone, had confirmed it was an unknown Seoul area code, and had even left a warning that all call contents were being recorded. How long has it been since there was such heavy security? Of course, that Jae Angshin was worth taking such precautions for, but…

The teaching assistant from academic affairs who called was a man. But weren’t there only women in the academic affairs office? Did a new grad student join?

The voice over the phone was slightly high-pitched and rough.

“Is this the student Park Seongjun?”

“Yes, that’s right. What is the matter?”

“It’s nothing else, but there’s a missing document among the ones you submitted last time.”

“Excuse me?”

“According to department policy, you have to come in person to submit it.”

No, just as Park Seongjun was about to ask what kind of nonsense that was, he nearly collapsed upon realizing that the man on the phone was Kwon Yihyeon, disguising his voice while impersonating a department assistant.

If he hadn’t already been sitting down, he might have truly fainted.

The stunned Park Seongjun gave a suitable reply and then departed for Seoul. The family members who heard the recorded call did not suspect anything and simply returned his phone. Since he volunteered to take a tracking device with him, they seemed rather at ease.

And so, Park Seongjun came to have a conversation with Kwon Yihyeon in a secluded restroom in the basement of the department building.

“Aren’t you a literal crazy person? I was almost fooled until the end.”

This conversation took place next to a running faucet to prevent any possible eavesdropping.

Kwon Yihyeon shook his head as if he were fed up and spoke.

“Your family is incredible for making things come to this.”

Kwon Yihyeon’s voice as he said that was not at all like it was during the call. His voice wasn’t so much low as it was average, but it was smooth and deep, flowing like water. Because it was so clear and clean, he knew people often mistook him for a voice actor. Even Park Seongjun—if he hadn’t been dragged along and subjected to a new kind of coin karaoke torture with a high-pitched, rough voice when Kwon Yihyeon was acting a fool by imitating a “tough guy” ballad singing style—he wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing; he would have been completely fooled.

Anyway, after hearing Kwon Yihyeon’s concern, Park Seongjun handed down the answer. Quite simply and clearly.