Ch 36
by chef“When I asked for a hug, you didn’t give me one… Do you know you’re a really bad person, Ajusshi?”
“I hugged you.”
“When?”
“Yesterday and now.”
“Do you have nurungji?” 1
Despite scolding him earlier with pointed gestures and stern looks, the moment Ji-an was in Ideun’s arms, he calmed down and started asking for nurungji, as if it was his lifelong wish.
“No?”
Ideun pulled Ji-an into a tighter hug for a moment before letting him go, then headed toward the dressing room. Ji-an had always picked out nurungji over the chicken when they went out for chicken soup.
“Where are you going?”
“To buy nurungji…”
Ji-an didn’t stop Ideun from getting dressed and leaving. He’d been pushed to his limits all night, and when he asked for comfort, Ideun hadn’t embraced him right away. Ideun hadn’t been overtly frightening or threatening, but Ji-an knew he was being punished. Something he’d done must have irritated Ideun.
After tormenting him like that, Ideun would heal the wounds he’d inflicted, treating them and even watching his reactions. It was infuriating, yet Ji-an couldn’t bring himself to get angrier when he saw Ideun’s clumsy attempts to make amends—like the bandages and the fresh needle marks on the back of his hand, proof Ideun had called in a medical professional.
No matter what, Ideun always came out the winner. The one who loved more was always at a disadvantage, wasn’t he? Ji-an knew this. Even so, he couldn’t deny how instinctively drawn he was to Ideun, as if etched into his subconscious.
Knowing the end would come with Ideun leaving him, Ji-an had already planned to be the first to walk away.
Since the time he’d allotted himself with Ideun wasn’t long, he wanted to make memories he could look back on later. At least for now, Ideun still viewed him positively. Of course, if Ideun found out the truth Ji-an was hiding, his demeanor would surely change.
It wasn’t as if Ji-an dreamed of extravagant outings—like attending performances, going on trips, visiting fancy places, sharing delicious meals, celebrating anniversaries, or exchanging gifts. They weren’t that kind of couple.
Instead, Ji-an sought small, almost insignificant moments that might go unnoticed by others. Though they hadn’t spent much time together, Ji-an had already noticed one: Ideun always put on and took off his left shoe first.
That was enough.
Ji-an walked over to the window and pressed himself against the cold glass, staring outside. Snow must have fallen overnight, blanketing the world in white.
“…I didn’t even notice it snowed.”
Imagining Ideun driving on snowy roads, Ji-an glanced at Bobo, who was climbing his pajama pants again. Despite the expensive toys Ideun had bought, the cat always preferred scaling Ji-an’s clothes.
Now that he thought about it, both the pajamas he was wearing and the pants were Ideun’s.
“Fine, climb all you want. Go ahead and rip holes in his clothes.”
Grabbing at the waistband of his pants to keep them from sliding down, Ji-an headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He wanted nurungji, but right now he was craving a cold soda. Twisting open the cap with a hiss, he carried the bottle back to the sofa and turned on the TV.
“Ah… a musical.”
The evening’s musical advertisement filled the screen, prompting Ji-an to glance at the clock in the living room. Losing track of time after waking up, he was surprised to see it was already past 3 p.m.
He decided to get the nurungji Ideun brought and send him away again.
“Bobo, isn’t nurungji too sad for the last dinner of the year? But since he’s been annoying, let’s make him cook it for us. After he leaves, we’ll order something good. What do you want? Is there a place that delivers pet-friendly meals too?”
Flopping back on the soft sofa, Ji-an picked up his phone to browse a delivery app. One hand scrolled while the other absently rubbed his lower stomach.
As the screen lit up, the first thing he saw was a message.
[Noh Haneul: Seo Ji-an. We need to talk…]
The preview cut off, leaving the rest hidden.
Ji-an bit the edge of his thumb, hesitating to open it. He had no excuses for Haneul.
The only thing he knew for sure was that Ideun had no intention of marrying Haneul—not him, not Ideun’s grandmother, and not anyone else. Maybe this was some misunderstanding, a classic case of miscommunication like in stories, or maybe the narrative hadn’t progressed far enough yet.
Ji-an knew he was the variable disrupting their future. The plot had already veered far from the original, meaning this story had long strayed from the author’s intentions.
But what could he do? For Ji-an, this wasn’t fiction; it was reality.
Unlike a novel, events didn’t jump from scene to scene, nor did emotions flow in a singular direction. Time moved in 24-hour cycles, meals needed eating when hungry, sleep came when tired, and wounds only healed with proper care.
Meeting Haneul alone now wouldn’t be wise. Leaving the message unread seemed better than acknowledging it. Surely things would change if Haneul and Ideun attended the musical together tonight.
Recalling Haneul’s radiant smile directed at Ideun, Ji-an took another sip of soda and resumed scrolling through the delivery app. No use overthinking something with no solution.
Instead of focusing on food for himself, he searched for places that offered pet menus too.
“Nothing?”
Bobo, having nestled into a loaf position on Ji-an’s lap, grew still as Ji-an gently stroked him while scrolling through the app. Unable to find a suitable place, Ji-an decided to order food for himself and boil some chicken breast from the fridge for Bobo.
As always, his year-end would be unremarkable. Alone.
Despite sleeping earlier, lying on the plush sofa made Ji-an feel drowsy. The dull ache lingering in his body reminded him of what had transpired.
He still couldn’t figure out Ideun’s feelings. While he knew Ideun wasn’t one to express much, spending more time together only deepened the mystery. Did Ideun really like him? And if so, why? Objectively, Ji-an couldn’t think of a single reason. Yet the expensive clothes and watches Ideun had bought him said otherwise.
A short vibration and notification broke his thoughts. The news article Ji-an had been reading disappeared under a pop-up.
[Noh Haneul: Are you busy?]
Sigh… Shouldn’t you be busy preparing to meet him instead?
Ji-an swiped the notification away, avoiding acknowledgment.
[Noh Haneul: Hey.]
[Noh Haneul: Aren’t you sorry?]
[Noh Haneul: You shouldn’t treat me like…]
Frustrated by the string of incoming messages, Ji-an tossed his phone onto the table with a thud. It wasn’t something that needed to be dealt with immediately, so he had no choice but to postpone it as much as possible. He hadn’t even sorted out his emotions or the situation yet—what could he possibly say or do if he met Haneul now?
“Seriously, how have I been living to have no one to go out and meet? What a waste of a life. Total waste.”
Waking up the soundly sleeping Bobo to play wasn’t an option, either. The noise from the TV, which he wasn’t even paying attention to, was annoying him, so he turned it off, letting the silence settle in.
“Did I send him out for no reason? We could’ve just eaten whatever was here.”
His hand unconsciously moved toward the gauze taped to his shoulder. After being bitten so many times, when would the mark finally settle in? And how would he even know if it had? One thing was certain—he had to find out before Ideun did. That was the only way to leave without him discovering the lie.
“I’ll have to make time to visit the Alpha and Omega center. I need to find out more about this mark….”
His hand, which had been rubbing the back of his neck, lowered and rested flat against his abdomen.
Though his heat and Ideun’s rut had never overlapped, significantly reducing the risk, they had been knotting every time they were intimate, without any form of contraception. The doctor had said it was impossible for him to conceive, but given that they’d already achieved the near-impossible partial bonding… miracles existed, didn’t they?
If this continued for months, it would be up to him, not Ideun, to take responsibility for contraception.
“Ugh… I’m hungry.”
Ji-an’s hand slid upward from his abdomen to his chest. “How long has it been since I’ve eaten? This is all his fault.”
Though he briefly blamed himself, Ji-an confidently shifted all the blame to Ideun. He was doing it internally anyway—there was no way Ideun would find out.
The person he’d coincidentally met as his rut partner had been Ideun, and even in France. If Ideun hadn’t given him a ride in his car back then, none of this would have happened. When they met again, it was Ideun’s fault for not ignoring his drunken state. And… well, even if he had teased him a little, Ideun had been the one to fall for it and initiate things. This was all on him. Even when things with his grandmother had been resolved, it was Ideun who had come looking for him.
“This is hell, isn’t it? But is it really hell? More like a hell that’s more beautiful than heaven. When would I ever live in such a nice place, being spoiled like this? I don’t even have to ask, and he buys me loads of luxury items. And the moment I say I want something, he gets it for me right away. But seriously… we should stop. I have to start work on the 2nd, and there’s no way I can function at this rate. Does he even know when to stop? He’s in his 30s, not his 20s. Where does he get all that stamina?”
Ji-an grumbled, shifting his body to alleviate the pain radiating from his waist and lower half, before sitting up at the sound of the faint, consistent hum of a machine.
The rustling of plastic bags grew louder, and then Ideun appeared, laden with all sorts of items. He immediately placed everything on the island table. Drawn by the enticing smell, Ji-an approached as if in a trance.
“What’s all this?”
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a bit of everything.”
There was a convenience store right below the building and a decent-sized market just a five-minute walk away, so Ji-an had thought Ideun would return quickly. The reason for his delay was now clear.
Fish-shaped buns, hotteok, roasted sweet potatoes, fish cakes, tteokbokki, blood sausages, fritters… everything one might think of when it came to winter street food was there. These were hard to find in the area, which mostly had chain eateries.
“Where did you get all this?”
Ji-an hesitated, unsure what to eat first, before reaching for the custard-filled fish-shaped bun. Confirming it was still crispy and not soggy, he quickly ripped open the paper bag, separating each of the buns.
Just as he reached for the custard bun he had first set his sights on, a large hand intercepted him.
“Eat the scorched rice first.”
“What? That makes no sense. Fish-shaped buns and hotteok are no good when they get cold!”
“You’re on an empty stomach.”
“Which is why I need to eat quickly!”
“…”
Locked in a standoff with Ideun, Ji-an decided to switch tactics and reached for the bag with hotteok instead.
“Can’t I even eat what I want?”
Anticipating Ideun might try to stop him again, Ji-an preemptively snapped, then grabbed a hotteok with a paper towel, folding it in half. He defiantly took a big bite while maintaining eye contact. If it had been freshly made, it would’ve been too hot, but by the time Ideun had brought it back, it was just the right temperature.
“If you didn’t want me to eat, you shouldn’t have bought it in the first place.”
Cutting Ideun off before he could say anything, Ji-an justified himself. Watching him with an incredulous expression, Ideun’s lips eventually curled into a faint smile. He reached out, brushed something from Ji-an’s lips with his large hand, and then pulled away.
“…Eat slowly.”
After all that fuss about not eating, Ideun sighed and began transferring the food into dishes, setting out chopsticks and even water. Ji-an, sitting at the table, ate his hotteok while watching him.
“You really do prefer snacks over proper meals.”
When Ideun sat across from him, Ji-an glanced at the clock and then back at him. Noticing Ideun wasn’t touching the food, he asked, “Why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m not interested.”
“And that’s why you’re such an old man.”
“Eat slowly.”
As Ideun passed by, he reached out to ruffle Ji-an’s hair before walking away. Ji-an, fixing his now-messy hair, sipped the fish cake broth. Eating at home like this was nice, but he thought it would taste better standing outside.
Though he felt like he could eat everything on the table, he stopped after finishing a hotteok and a fish-shaped bun. Tasting a bit of the tteokbokki, he then set his chopsticks down. With Ideun bustling around and the delicious smells filling the air, the sound of their gluttonous pet, Bobo, crying out grew louder. Ji-an stood up from his seat.
“Alright, I’ll cook you some chicken breast. Today’s a special day, after all.”
He took out the chicken breast, filled a pot with water, and set it on the induction stove. As he prepared, he glanced at Ideun, who was emerging from the bedroom. Though they were short on time if they needed to head out, Ideun had changed into comfortable loungewear.
“Ahjussi.”
“Yeah?”
Ideun approached him, casually wrapping an arm around him and planting a kiss on the top of his head before heading to the coffee machine. The way he moved was so natural, as if it were second nature.
“You’re not going out?”
“Is there something else you need?”
“No. It’s just… today is December 31st.”
“So?”
Ideun’s gaze met Ji-an’s as he picked a capsule, placed it in the coffee machine, and pressed the button.
“Seo Ji-an. Should we redefine our relationship?”
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