DPGR 84

The next day, late in the afternoon.

Dojin gave Jiho a recovery potion as he lay groaning from the rough sex and intense guiding.

“I don’t want it—cough! I’m not drinking that.”

“It’s fine. Please, take it.”

“But it’s expensive…”

Though he wasn’t seriously injured, Jiho couldn’t understand why he should drink something so costly. Dojin insisted it was fine to have just one, and the two bickered over it.

In the end, it was something Dojin said that made Jiho swallow back his tears and drink the potion.

“Then I’ll call the Center and have a healing Esper sent over.”

“…?”

“I’ll make the call right now.”

Dojin’s acting was top-notch. He had no intention of letting anyone else see Jiho in this post-sex wreck, but he pulled out his phone as if he really were about to call.

“I—I’ll drink it!”

Jiho, face pale, teared up and snatched the potion bottle from Dojin’s hand.

“Drink it all. That’s it.”

Thanks to the potion, Jiho was finally free from the dull ache in his lower back, the soreness in that embarrassing place between his thighs, and the muscle aches in his arms and legs.

“…Hyung, you’re mean.”

“I’m sorry. Did it hurt a lot?”

“Not that… sniffle.”

“Then… was it the potion?”

Jiho nodded.

It was a relief to be free from pain, but Jiho still felt weird about gulping down a potion that cost thousands, just for something like this.

Not to mention, recovery potions were incredibly rare—even setting aside the cost.

Their ingredients grew only inside dungeons, and supply was always short.

“I was the one who hurt you, so I wanted to be the one to make you better.”

“….”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“Hmph…”

Jiho pouted and turned his head, but despite his sulking, his heart was slowly softening.

Watching Dojin fumble to apologize in front of him made it hard to stay mad for long.

“If you’re sorry… then hug me.”

Muttering through his pouty lips, Jiho shyly asked for a hug.

Dojin nearly laughed at how out-of-place that line felt in the mood, but he held it in.

“Come here.”

He scooped Jiho up in his arms and was about to carry him to the living room when—

Bzzz— Bzzz—

Dojin’s phone vibrated loudly. Both of them turned toward the glowing screen.

[Mother]

The name on the display read “Mother.”

Dojin made a small “Ah,” as if remembering something.

“Just a moment. Sit here.”

“Okay.”

He set Jiho down on the soft sofa and put the phone to his ear.

In the quiet house, Dojin’s voice gently filled the air.

“Yes, Mother. Ah, I’m at home now. Yes. The dungeon has been cleared…”

The call seemed like it would run long, so Dojin gave Jiho an apologetic look and headed into his room.

Jiho drooped his shoulders and rubbed his stomach.

‘I’m hungry…’

He hadn’t eaten in nearly two and a half days.

He’d spent a whole day sleeping, and the rest being tormented by Dojin, draining his energy.

At this point, it would’ve been strange not to be starving.

‘Hmm… will he be long?’

Jiho peeked through the door, which was open just a crack.

Dojin, absorbed in his call, didn’t seem to notice.

‘He must be hungry too.’

After clearing a dungeon, Dojin hadn’t eaten anything either. Jiho figured he must be just as hungry.

‘Ah! Should I cook something?’

A bright idea flashed through Jiho’s mind.

In his head, he pictured a lavish spread laid out on the table and Dojin’s touched expression as he saw it.

“…Hee.”

Grinning like a kid, Jiho scurried into the kitchen.

With a sparkle in his eyes and sleeves rolled up, he looked exactly like a mischievous puppy about to get into trouble.

Meanwhile, in the room…

—So, no injuries. That’s a relief… Do you have any idea how worried I was?

“I’m sorry. I should’ve called first.”

—Sigh… It’s okay. You were probably too busy with that guiding or whatever.

Hearing his mother’s voice over the phone, Dojin blushed.

Even though he knew her idea of “guiding” was far tamer than what had actually happened last night, it still felt like she’d somehow found out.

“Uh, yes… well…”

As he fumbled with his words, his mother sounded puzzled.

—Why? You didn’t get guided after all?

“No, no—I did. I definitely did.”

Did he ever.

His gaze dropped to the watch on his wrist. His latest guiding record had just hit 98%—a personal best.

—You’re not skipping guiding again just because you’re embarrassed, right?

“It’s not like that…”

—Hmm. Well, I’m relieved you found a guide you’re compatible with… but don’t avoid it too much, okay? You have to take care of your health too.

If he took care of his health any more than this, Jiho might actually kill him, Dojin thought bitterly.

But what came out of his mouth was the obedient voice of a dutiful son:

“Yes, Mother. Don’t worry too much.”

—So, how is it with your new Guide? I read online that they’re, what, pretty young?

“You looked them up?”

-There wasn’t much detail.

It seemed Dojin’s mother had long been curious about her son’s Guide. Now that the topic had come up, she took the opportunity to fire off a barrage of questions—

What was their name?

How old were they?

What were they like?

What did they used to do before becoming a Guide?

It was practically an interrogation.

“You seem really curious. At this rate, you might as well meet and ask him yourself.”

Dojin let out a tired sigh as he tried to joke it off.

—Oh! Should I?

“…Excuse me?”

—Are you free tomorrow? You said you were going to Japan again, right? Let’s see each other before you go. It’s almost Christmas, and the end of the year, too.

Dojin’s eyes widened in surprise. His mother chuckled like a schoolgirl, clearly pleased with her idea.

“That’s, uh…”

—Your father’s curious about the new Guide, too. And it’s been a while since we saw our son’s face. How many months has it been now?”

As his mother chattered on, Dojin squeezed his eyes shut.

Clatter—!

“…!”

A noise came from just beyond the door, which had been left open a crack.

Startled, Dojin shot up.

“Mother, I’ll call you back later.”

—Hm? Oh, is something—”

“Later. I’m hanging up.”

He quickly ended the call and rushed out to the living room.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of something burning.

What the hell…?

Dojin covered his nose with his sleeve and followed the smoke to its source. The closer he got to the kitchen, the denser it became.

“Jiho!”

“Eek…!”

Crash!

Startled by the sudden shout, Jiho dropped the dish he’d been holding. It shattered against the marble floor into a scatter of sharp glass shards.

“Don’t move.”

Dojin’s face went hard. He was worried Jiho might cut himself.

Still wearing his slippers, he walked straight over and scooped Jiho up in his arms.

He tossed the smoking frying pan into the sink and opened the window to let the air out.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“N-No… I’m okay.”

“What were you doing?”

He asked while setting Jiho on the dining table. Jiho pouted, on the verge of tears.

His caramel-colored eyes, wet and shimmering, darted over Dojin’s shoulder to something sitting on the counter.

Dojin followed his gaze and turned his head.

“…Ah.”

On a bright white plate sat a few slices of fried egg, burned to a deep, dark brown.

Was he hungry…?

Dojin sighed in relief, seeing that Jiho was safe, if a little sheepish.

“I’ll make something instead. But first let me clean this up. Can you wait just a little bit?”

“…I was…”

“Hm?”

While Dojin rolled up his sleeves and looked for rubber gloves, Jiho muttered quietly behind him.

He turned at the sound. Jiho was rubbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his shirt.

“I… I wanted to… cook for you….”

His words were broken, breaths catching as if he were holding back tears, but still understandable.

“…You wanted to make me something to eat?”

Jiho nodded.

Sniffling, he looked up at Dojin. His normally pale face was flushed red, ready to burst.

He opened his mouth to say something, then covered his face with both hands—ashamed, frustrated, maybe even a little embarrassed.

Dojin looked at Jiho, then at the pitifully charred eggs on the counter.

The gesture touched him so deeply that his nose stung. Jiho’s heart was just too precious.

“…Hah.”

Just how cute could one person be?

Dojin let out something between a sigh and a groan and pulled Jiho—still sitting on the table—into a tight hug.

Jiho, suddenly wrapped in Dojin’s arms after causing such a scene, glanced nervously up at him and asked in a small voice:

“You’re… you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I… I almost started a fire…”

“As long as you’re not hurt, it’s fine. This house? Burn it, break it—do whatever you want.”

“…Huh?”

“Maybe I should just put the whole place under your name.”

“…??”

“Haa… You’re too cute.”

“…???”

A flurry of question marks popped up over Jiho’s head.

Dojin just kept hugging him, nuzzling his cheek against Jiho’s hair.

Trapped in Dojin’s arms, Jiho slowly sank into thought.

Sure, Dojin had been acting a little soft lately—but this was kind of over the top.

Wait! Could it be…?

Jiho’s eyes went wide.

Side effect of guiding!

Yes, that had to be it. Jiho was now certain that Dojin was in the middle of a full-blown manic episode.