By Zephyria 
Without any particular parting words, he left Mu-gyeong’s office. Holding his phone in one hand, he called Min-ho.
—The party you have called is not available…
The same automated guidance repeated over and over. It continued until Gyu-oh reached the underground parking lot and got into his car. If Min-ho was meeting someone like before, the probability of him being home wouldn’t be high. Still, the only place he could go right now was Min-ho’s house.
“Why aren’t you picking up.”
Biting his lower lip, he started the engine with hurried movements. He couldn’t find the reason why he felt so anxious and restless.
Beep—beep-beep-beep-beep, beep. He punched in the passcode as if it were his own home and stepped inside. Contrary to his expectation that it would be a wild goose chase, a pair of shoes lay scattered by the entrance. He scanned the entryway with sharp, narrowed eyes. There were no unfamiliar shoes. Still, he didn’t let his guard down and strode inside.
The lights were on in the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and dressing room, but it was profoundly silent. He wondered if Hyung was perhaps rolling around in the bedroom with that detective fellow, but no sound of heavy breathing reached him.
“Hyung.”
Gyu-oh stared silently at the entrance to the bedroom, the only room where the lights were off, and spoke again. His low voice only echoed in the space where he stood. This time, he raised his voice a bit more.
“Min-ho Hyung.”
As expected, there was no answer. Was he perhaps not home? After checking the lit areas one more time, he turned his steps toward the final remaining room, the bedroom.
Only the light spilling from the living room illuminated the dark bedroom. As Gyu-oh scanned the interior with narrowed eyes, a familiar silhouette caught his gaze. It was the shadow of a person.
Strangely, the first emotion he felt was relief. Even though he didn’t know what exactly he was relieved about.
“Hyung, are you sleeping?”
He spoke cautiously, but there was no response. He said he wasn’t feeling well; had he fallen asleep? Muffling his presence, Gyu-oh approached and turned on the bedside lamp. With a click, the surroundings brightened and came into view.
Min-ho was lying face down, his brow furrowed. Occasional groans escaped him, and his forehead was drenched in cold sweat…
“Cha Min-ho!”
As Gyu-oh shook his shoulder lightly, Min-ho opened his eyes slightly, his forehead deeply creased. The corners of his eyes were bloodshot and damp.
“…Too loud.”
Even saying those few words, his voice was completely cracked, and his breath came out hot. If his eyes were watering, it wasn’t just a case of “feeling unwell”—it was serious. Gyu-oh felt Min-ho’s cheek, forehead, and nape in turn.
“Don’t touch me.”
He turned his head away as if annoyed, but it was futile. Gyu-oh reached out and lightly cupped Min-ho’s forehead. A fairly hot body temperature transferred to his palm.
“Did you… take medicine? Shouldn’t you go to the hospital? Where does it hurt?”
“….”
“Get up. Let’s go to the hospital.”
“Forget it, stop being a nuisance.”
Why were there so many things he was told not to do? Gyu-oh bit his lower lip as he watched the weakly waving hand. Why had he been so foolishly like this until it came to this? He should have at least called. He quickly scanned the area, but the phone was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m going to be a nuisance. Get up, now.”
“Ah…”
“Don’t be irritated and just get up.”
Because that would only make the fever rise further. However, despite the continued urging, Min-ho no longer responded. Even when Gyu-oh nudged his shoulder or pulled his arm, he didn’t budge.
“Hey, Cha Min-ho.”
When Gyu-oh pulled the sleeve of his gown, an irritated sigh was heard. He’s much more sensitive than usual because he’s sick. Before he could finish that thought, Min-ho bolted upright. The movement was so abrupt that the front of his gown was completely disheveled.
“Do you… hate dealing with my irritation that much? That’s why… you should have just let me live the way I used to.”
“….”
“Living like a slut… then pretending to be normal… that’s why I’m getting sick.”
Short, labored breaths were mixed between his words. His bloodshot eyes, cheeks, and lips—everywhere heat could gather was red. Seeing how he kept shaking his head from side to side, he seemed to be in a daze. Perhaps that was why he didn’t seem to realize what he was saying.
“Unless you’re going to sleep with me… just… stop being a nuisance.”
Min-ho pressed his hand to his forehead and bowed his head deeply. Following that movement, the gown gaped even wider.
“What?”
“…Ah, my head hurts.”
“What kind of Hyung says such nonsense so suddenly?”
He shouted abruptly and then quickly covered his mouth. He felt his voice had been too loud. He leaned down to check Min-ho’s complexion once more and reached out with a slightly trembling hand to brush back Min-ho’s hair. The ends were still slightly damp, as if it hadn’t been dried completely.
Regardless, he could soothe his own startled heart later; taking care of Min-ho came first.
“The medicine.”
Thinking that forcing him to sit up would only make him more dizzy, Gyu-oh bent his waist uncomfortably to try and meet Min-ho’s eyes. However, the tightly closed eyes did not easily turn toward him.
“Ugh…”
“Answer me. Did you take medicine?”
Ignoring his rapidly beating heart, he asked in the gentlest voice possible. After urging him a couple more times, Min-ho finally shook his head from side to side. Then, he began to mutter something in a blurred voice.
“What?”
Gyu-oh curled his body even more uncomfortably and brought his ear close to Min-ho’s lips. He listened intently to the faintly scattering sounds.
“…Soju…”
Amidst the faint mumbling, the word ‘soju’ pierced his ear clearly. Soju? As he chewed over the word, Gyu-oh bolted upright. The moment he realized the faint scent he had noticed was alcohol, a headache flared.
“You should have taken medicine, why did you drink! I’m going crazy, seriously.”
If he weren’t sick, Gyu-oh would have smacked him on the back a few times. But because he was sick, he couldn’t even do that. Is this immature man really his Hyung? By this point, his head felt so hot he wasn’t sure if it was he or Min-ho who had the fever.
“Sigh. I really can’t deal with him.”
It would have been better when he was staring at documents while boiling with fever. Then he could have stopped him and forced him to take medicine. Holding his throbbing head, Gyu-oh stood up and gently pushed Min-ho’s shoulder.
“I told you not to touch me…”
“Be quiet. Just lie there obediently.”
Leaving behind a muttering, frowning Min-ho, he headed to the bathroom. Rolling up his sleeves, he soaked a towel. Since he had drunk alcohol, lowering the fever was the top priority.
He placed the wet towel on the forehead and repeated the process of replacing it whenever it became lukewarm. By the time his grip felt stinging from wringing the towel so many times, Min-ho’s fever finally began to drop, and the deep crease between his brows smoothed out.
Accordingly, the lips that had been spitting out protests to stop or claims that it wasn’t necessary finally closed quietly. He seemed to have finally fallen into a deep sleep. Whether it was the power of the alcohol, because he was too sick, or because of Gyu-oh’s nursing, he didn’t know. Regardless, the fact that he fell asleep was what mattered.
Pulling the blanket up to the shoulders, Gyu-oh dimmed the lights. He was about to leave but lingered, fiddling with his phone. After a few touches, familiar music began to flow softly.
“….”
Maybe he could sleep more comfortably this way. Gyu-oh quietly rose and left the room. Then, he began tidying up, turning off the lights that were still on in various places.
Perhaps because he had been out of it, the house was quite cluttered. An open bottle of half-drunk soju sat in the kitchen, and the closet doors were all wide open. The jacket he had worn out today was half-hanging on a hanger, nearly sliding off. As Gyu-oh sighed and tidied up, his fingertips touched something hard.
“No wonder he couldn’t answer the phone, he left it here.”
[Missed Calls: Viper (32)]
He thought he had only called three or four times, but had he really called this much? He sounded like an obsessive lover. He scratched his eyebrow awkwardly. Just as Gyu-oh was about to shove the phone into his pocket, he stopped.
‘He asked for the detective’s number. I didn’t have it, so I sent a photo of the business card.’
He recalled Mu-gyeong’s words from before he came here. Gyu-oh knelt and sank into thought for a moment. Running his tongue along the inside of his cheek, he tapped the dark phone screen with his thumb. His contemplation continued for a long while.
“…Just checking.”
He turned on the phone and entered the message thread with Mu-gyeong. Seeing a single photo of a business card attached, as mentioned, he first went into the gallery. After confirming that the photo of the business card had not been saved, he began to dial the number written on it one by one.
Fortunately, the detective’s number was already saved, though it remained as a combination of meaningless numbers instead of a name. He confirmed with his own eyes that it had been blocked long ago and that there were no traces of messages exchanged with the detective.
“Maybe he was too sick to contact him.”
Muttering, he deleted the text Mu-gyeong had sent. Unless he asked again, there would be no way to contact the detective. Should he consider it a blessing that Min-ho was sick?
‘Unless you’re going to sleep with me… just… stop being a nuisance.’
He hadn’t expected to hear such a dangerous thing. Min-ho’s voice, mixed with feverish breaths, lingered in his ears. In truth, from the moment he heard those words, he felt blood rushing to his face and his heart beating irregularly. He had clearly been too surprised by the unexpected words.
“…That Hyung is truly crazy. There’s nothing he won’t say.”
He let out a long sigh, calming his heart for a while.
Then, a question suddenly occurred to him. Why did Hyung say that? Was it because he was sick? Or does he do that to anyone when he’s drunk? Even if it’s not me? Or is it because I’m too comfortable? He never said things like that when he was drunk normally. It must be because he drank while he was sick. His mind must have been even more blurred.
He managed to attach a plausible reason. Once he concluded it was a slip of the tongue due to lack of consciousness, the wildly racing pulse gradually subsided. He wasn’t sure if it was due to unpleasantness or relief.