#81

＊＊＊

Jung-hyun woke up to the savory scent of sesame oil.

He blinked blankly for a while, trying to reconcile the gap between the familiar scenery before his eyes and the unfamiliar smell of food.

When was the last time he woke up to the smell of food?

It felt like it had been since he lived alone with his mother as a child.

Those days when he would wake up to the smell of rice cooking and the sound of something bubbling in a pot. The sizzle of something frying in oil, and a moment later, he could tell by the scent whether today’s side dish would be fried eggs or ham.

Was he dreaming of those times? Jung-hyun closed his eyes, tracing those nostalgic memories, and drifted back into a light slumber.

He woke up again when he heard the chime signaling that the laundry was done drying.

Had the employee who handles the housework come over? No. Since it was the end of the year, he had given them a long vacation so they could rest with their families.

The lingering smell of food was also strange. The housekeeper occasionally left side dishes behind, but since they usually ended up being thrown away, it had been several weeks since he told her not to go through the trouble of making them.

Unable to bear the accumulating sense of incongruity, Jung-hyun finally pushed himself up from the bed. At that moment, something dropped onto his thigh. It was a damp, nearly dry washcloth. What was this?

The moment he stepped his foot down from the bed, he reflexively frowned. His waist and inner thighs felt incredibly tight. It made sense, considering he had been spread open all last night. Jung-hyun rested a hand on his waist and sighed.

Wait. Did I change my clothes before I slept?

He whipped his head around; the messy sheets and the floor were clean.

“…….”

Come to think of it, where is Shin Ho-jae? Surely…

Jung-hyun limped out of the room. After a few steps, the tightness in his thighs and waist began to ease.

As he approached the stairs leading downstairs, the sound of something bubbling grew closer.

When he descended to the first-floor kitchen, he saw a familiar back.

“Ho-jae. What are you making?”

“Oh? You’re awake?”

Shin Ho-jae turned around immediately.

For a moment, Jung-hyun’s face contorted into a strange expression. It was because of what he was wearing over his long-sleeved t-shirt.

It was a small apron covered in pink and red flowers, complete with frills at the hem. Perhaps it was too small, as he had boldly given up on tying the waist strings and had barely managed to loop it around his neck.

“Where on earth did you find that apron?”

“It was hanging there. I think it belonged to your mother.”

“Ah, it’s probably used by the housekeeper.”

His mother hadn’t cooked for herself since moving to the Seongbuk-dong mansion. That was because Suncheon-daek, who professionally handled the housework, was there; however, thinking back as an adult, it seemed she simply didn’t like cooking or cleaning in the first place.

At his answer, Shin Ho-jae nodded, as if he hadn’t thought of that. Then, he gestured with his chin toward a chair at the island table.

“Would you mind sitting and waiting for a moment? It’s almost done.”

With those words, Shin Ho-jae poured the contents of the pot into a concave bowl. The series of movements was quite natural. Does he cook often?

Jung-hyun looked down at the bowl he placed on the table with a hint of anticipation. He saw steaming, yellow grains of rice.

“Porridge?”

“Ah, hold on.”

Did he want porridge? While he was thinking it was an unexpected menu choice, Shin Ho-jae’s hand suddenly reached out, touched his forehead as if checking for a fever, and then pulled away.

“Thank goodness. The fever has gone down a lot.”

“…Did I have a fever?”

“Yes. I bought some medicine, so eat the porridge and take the medicine.”

“You bought some? I have medicine.”

“Where? All I saw was Tylenol. You need to take medicine that fits your symptoms for the fever to drop quickly.”

“…I’ll eat well. Thanks for the medicine, too.”

Since it was a valid point, Jung-hyun found himself with nothing to say. As Jung-hyun picked up his spoon, Shin Ho-jae sat down and took off the floral apron from his neck.

“Enjoy your meal.”

“You too, Ho-jae.”

Jung-hyun scooped a bit of porridge with his spoon, cooled it slowly, and put it in his mouth.

He thought it was egg porridge because it was yellow, but he felt something chewing inside. Was it vegetables and shrimp? The softly cooked rice was lightly seasoned to his taste, and it had a deep flavor, as if the broth had been properly simmered.

Compared to the porridge he usually made by roughly pouring hot water into instant rice, this was practically a feast.

“You must cook at home often.”

It was unexpected. He thought Ho-jae wouldn’t have time for things like cooking because he was so busy training.

Shin Ho-jae, seemingly unfazed by the heat, scooped a full spoonful of porridge and put it in his mouth without blowing on it. After chewing and swallowing everything, he answered.

“When I was taking care of my father at home, the family took turns with the meals and cleaning. My father had trouble digesting, so I made porridge often. I also made simple things for myself when I was in Canada.”

“What’s the dish you’re most confident in? Other than porridge.”

“As long as I have a recipe, I can do most things reasonably well.”

“I bet there’s something people specifically praise as delicious.”

“Hmm. Then maybe spicy stir-fried pork? When I was at the accommodation in Montreal, I made it for my colleagues often. Everyone ate it well.”

Jung-hyun’s eyes widened. During the ten years he lived in the US, he had never even dreamed of cooking for himself. If he craved Korean food, he would settle for Korean cup noodles or find a Korean restaurant.

“You’re much better at it than I thought. The porridge is really delicious, too.”

“…….”

Glancing at the silent Shin Ho-jae, Jung-hyun noticed the area below his cheeks was slightly flushed. Jung-hyun smiled inwardly and looked back down at the porridge.

He felt like he was getting a bargain, being able to fully enjoy his kindness just because he had a fever.

The heart that had felt so light began to feel slightly uncomfortable shortly after the meal ended.

After finishing the porridge, Shin Ho-jae insisted on doing the dishes. Once he finished that, he began taking the laundry out of the dryer and folding it. He was stubborn even when told to leave it.

“It’s so great having a dryer at home….”

He had merely let out an admiring exclamation while looking at the fluffy, dry sheets and clothes.

Eventually, Jung-hyun had to help organize the laundry. He couldn’t just sit on the sofa as the owner while a guest was folding the laundry.

He wasn’t the type to feel a sense of accomplishment or pride while doing housework, so he just moved his hands mechanically, but Shin Ho-jae seemed to be the opposite, with a flushed expression and a slight curve to the corners of his lips.

Then, noting that thirty minutes had passed since the meal, he brought a white mug of warm water and told him to take his medicine. He had even peeled two pills each according to the dosage so that Jung-hyun wouldn’t have to do it himself.

If left alone, it felt like he would offer to pull down his underwear for him when he went to the bathroom. Even his mother hadn’t been this much when he was a child.

It was certainly a pleasant thing to enjoy his innate kindness by his side, but…

To be honest, it was starting to feel burdensome.

He wasn’t some patient without limbs or a small child. No, even if he were a patient or a child, having someone help with every single thing from one to ten didn’t suit his personality.

Ah, perhaps he became accustomed to caring for others while looking after his father for so long?

Thinking that made him feel a bit sorry for him, but watching him wash the white mug and wipe it clean with a dry towel after the medicine was taken, the feeling that this wasn’t right grew stronger.

Then and now, Kwon Jung-hyun was a person who was not used to spending long periods of time with someone in his own space. Even when he lived alone in the US, there had never been a single time he invited someone over by his own choice.

“Ho-jae.”

Jung-hyun called him quietly.

“Should I call a taxi for you? If you’re okay with driving yourself, you can take my car. You don’t have to return it this time.”

At that, Shin Ho-jae looked at him with wide eyes. As if he hadn’t expected it. In the end, it was Jung-hyun, who had brought it up, who felt flustered.

“You should go home. I think your mother will worry.”

“She doesn’t worry about a grown son staying out for a day or two. And you’re sick, Representative. I’ll stay until I make sure you’ve had dinner.”

“People don’t die from a fever like this. I appreciate the concern, but I’m not at an age to be receiving filial piety from you.”

“…….”

“You bought me medicine, so I’ll take it well. You should head out now. You probably have training starting tomorrow.”

“There’s no training this week.”

Ah. Come to think of it, the league maintenance period starts today for two weeks. The first week, overlapping with the end-of-year and New Year holidays, was a general vacation for the club staff, and normal work resumed the following week. It was the same for the players.

Jung-hyun fell silent for a moment, having nothing more to say. Shin Ho-jae, who had been staring at him, spoke.

“What is it? Do you want me to leave?”

“…….”

Since he asked so bluntly, it felt awkward to honestly answer yes. Especially to someone who was providing meals because they were worried about him.

No, in the past, he probably would have said so.

The reason he couldn’t say it now was a useless sense of responsibility and guilt arising from having slept with Shin Ho-jae yesterday, and a pathetic desire not to be a ‘bad person’ to him.

Jung-hyun let out a faint sigh and brushed back the bangs falling over his forehead.

Even so, it wasn’t right to spend another half-day lingering with him. What would be the point of building intimacy after having sex with Shin Ho-jae?

It would only allow unsightly obsession and dirty desire to grow.

82 – PUCK DROP