PHUW 115

The conversation ended in a strangely amicable atmosphere.

Jeong Mok, who had suddenly become Hwarang Gwanchang, in truth had no thought at all of letting his head fall off like that. The Chairwoman did not expect that much either. She promised readily that so long as the second branch was trampled down firmly, she would never again pry into his private life.

When he left the family home, it was already late at night.

He had been relentlessly busy with work and the aftermath of the kidnapping incident. Because the case involved both abduction and murder, the legal team, the secretary’s office, and the PR office had to run about everywhere. He himself had to manage various responses in between, leaving him little time. After work ended, he could only spare time in the middle of the night to slip in, look at Haeri while he slept, and then leave again.

If the hospital had been in Seoul rather than Gyeonggi, it would have been easier to go back and forth. But he judged that for Haeri’s stability, the VIP ward, which served as a second private room, was better.

He stayed in frequent contact with the dedicated nurse, receiving reports about Haeri’s condition. When he sent a message saying he was on his way now, a reply of acknowledgment came back quickly.

As soon as he arrived at the hospital, he took the private elevator and quietly went up to the ward. The hallway lit only by night lights was silent. There, he met the dedicated nurse in front of Haeri’s room.

After exchanging a glance, the nurse gripped the doorknob and, in a low quick voice, reported how Haeri had spent the afternoon, how much he had eaten for dinner, when he had taken his medication, and when he had gone to sleep, before opening the door. But tonight was a little different.

“His condition is good. You can talk with him.”

“What?”

When Jeong Mok looked at her, the nurse smiled faintly.

“He’s been waiting for you to come for a while. Go on in.”

She pushed the door open. Haeri was not asleep, he sat comfortably against the raised back of the bed, and he stared straight at Jeong Mok as he entered.

“You really weren’t sleeping.”

“Uh… yes.”

Haeri fidgeted. He was not trying to change his posture, only twisting his body because he was unsettled. He could not keep his hands still either. He put them on his stomach, then gripped his raised knees, then rubbed the backs of his hands. He looked very anxious. He glanced sideways at the phone lying face down on the side table, then quickly picked it up and set it next to him. He looked ready to dial 112 if anything happened.

“Are you not tired?”

“Oh, no. Not really. I’ve been resting all the time.”

Haeri could not meet his eyes properly. This was a first. Haeri had always looked straight at him with clear eyes, fierce like a brave little dog.

“What about dinner?”

“I ate. I just…”

He trailed off mid-sentence. That too was unlike Haeri, who was normally bold and always said whatever was on his mind.

“Why stop halfway? If you have something to say, say it.”

“I… I was going to ask if you had dinner…”

“Yes. I ate.”

Haeri nodded, as if he really had been curious.

“Nothing hurts?”

“I don’t think so.”

‘I don’t think so.’

Jeong Mok’s eyes went to Haeri’s foot, set on a soft pillow with half a cast still on. It was healing, but during the kidnapping he had overexerted and suffered another shock, and it had swollen again. He had been hooked up to yellow antibiotic IVs for three days until the inflammation subsided, and only that morning had they been removed. Since the bone was fine, he would recover with rest.

“And your wrist?”

There were bruises from the tape on his wrist. Jeong Mok casually took Haeri’s wrist and checked. Where the bruises had been red and blue before, they were now blackened, mottled with yellow. It meant they were healing well. Much of the swelling had gone down too.

“In a week the marks will be gone.”

“Ah… yes.”

Ahn Haeri reluctantly answered and pulled back his wrist. Instead of resisting, Jeong Mok let go.

When Haeri lifted his head, his pale face turned to the side. The tips of his ears were red. He nervously rubbed the wrist Jeong Mok had held, his unease and displeasure were showing clearly.

“Sorry for touching you suddenly. We used to be fine with this much.”

“N-no, it’s fine.”

Jeong Mok smiled bitterly. He already knew. On the first day in the hospital, when he realized Haeri did not remember him, his heart had gone cold. But it was fine. It was not a lie. He was fine.

‘Compared to dying, this much is something to thank the heavens for.’

The instant he imagined that the corpse discovered during the pursuit might be Haeri, Jeong Mok had felt as if he died and came back. Flames of overwhelming force wrapped his whole body, burning his mind white, and the moment he confirmed it was not Haeri but someone else, the blaze collapsed and he collapsed too, briefly exhausted.

That was not all.

After wresting Haeri back from those who killed without hesitation and placing him safely in the hospital, he collapsed on the spot from exhaustion with spiking blood pressure caused by extreme stress. He regained consciousness quickly but had to be put on sedatives and IV nutrients. After that he stayed by Haeri’s ward.

The shock and terror of that day were like when his father had beaten his mother to death. Sometimes unseen flames wrapped his whole body, burning his mind white. At that time, a child psychiatrist had diagnosed him with PTSD, and it took long effort and care to overcome. Without Song-i, he would never have healed, and would have broken down, ending his life early in depression.

Compared to that, now there was hope. At least Haeri was alive. He, who had grown pointlessly large and strong, had managed to bring Haeri back. And here Haeri was, whole in body, breathing, eating, speaking, even if only meeting his gaze with anxious eyes.

So it was fine.

“You said your memory came back?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a relief.”

Jeong Mok pulled over the guardian’s chair and sat down, then quietly observed the other man, who was restless with awkwardness.

Haeri had regained his memory, but in exchange had lost all memory of the past three months. Not some cheap film plot, yet it had happened, leaving even the professor in charge shaking his head. But he said it was not impossible. It’s rare, but they were case reports worldwide of similar patterns.

There was no real solution. Only to leave it to time and chance.

Experts judged that needlessly provoking someone who had suffered repeated trauma was dangerous, so Jeong Mok decided to prioritize Haeri’s emotional stability. Until the immediate shock settled and communication could flow, contact was left to professionals.

He had known already, but Haeri was astonishingly resilient. His ability to perceive and process his situation was outstanding. The professor described his resilience as world-class, like that of a national athlete. He added that such strength must have been built through countless hardships and the struggle to survive. It was the instinct forged through a life as a magnet for accidents, a black hole for misfortune.

Even if his recovery was quick, Jeong Mok planned to give a few more days, meeting with the professor first before facing Haeri properly.

‘His impatience is the same, whether with or without memory.’

His tone and attitude might have changed, but he was the same person. Like a wary dog eyeing a stranger, Haeri kept stealing glances at him while pretending to look elsewhere. That too was the Haeri he knew. The essence had not changed. That was enough.

Even if he forgot him, it was fine. As long as he was healthy.

What was the average lifespan for modern men, eighty-three? He could not recall exactly, but it was certainly over eighty. Haeri was twenty-four. He was thirty. Even at his own pace, they had at least fifty years left. Even if the accident-black-hole life dragged in absurd trouble again, he would handle it each time. He even entertained a cheerful thought, that maybe this was a chance to reset their twisted beginning and slowly build a proper romance.

Either way, they would remain together.

Jeong Mok quietly watched his dear companion.

Bzzz.

The hospital’s ventilation system hummed to life. Slippers of the night-shift nurse sounded as she passed. From far below came the noise of a car entering the ground-level parking lot. The rattling wheels of a supply trolley full of medical goods faded into the distance. Then Haeri finally opened the mouth he had kept shut all along.

“Um… what kind of relationship… were we?”

His awkward use of formal speech¹ made Jeong Mok laugh softly, remembering how Haeri’s eyes had gone wide the first time he saw him.

Perhaps misinterpreting his reaction, Haeri furrowed his brow and closed his mouth again. His face, mixing shame and displeasure, looked both cute and a little pitiful.

“I wasn’t laughing at you. If that upset you, I’m sorry.”

At his apology, Haeri lowered his gaze and fiddled with his phone.

The phone had been returned through Chief Ahn. Haeri had checked everything: photo album, contacts, call logs, message apps. He especially reviewed the texts exchanged with Jeong Mok over and over. He even looked at recent messages with an old classmate he found on Neostar, but on Shin Chaehee’s advice, he did not reach out.

“We live together.”

At Jeong Mok’s words, Haeri gave a small nod.

1. Haeri used 을까요, a common and useful Korean grammar point. It doesn’t have a single direct translation in English, but its core meaning is to softly and politely wonder about something aloud. ↩︎