RB 128

Secretary Namyeong arrived in an instant. Shocked by the sight of the bloody scene, he was speechless. But he quickly regained his composure and began addressing the immediate bloodshed. He pulled a handkerchief from his bosom and applied pressure to Yeorok’s torn scalp.

“Can you hear my voice?”

He spoke to Yeorok repeatedly to check if he remained conscious. Yeorok could do nothing but blink slowly, lacking even the strength to answer. Even that effort seemed fleeting, as his eyelids fluttered, threatening to close as his consciousness ebbed away.

Yeorok lay sprawled like a corpse, and Eunho was busy weeping, embracing him. The only person with a sane mind who could sort things out was Hong Namyeong.

While stanching the wound, Namyeong dialed a number on his phone. Sweat beaded on his forehead in a situation where every second was critical.

“This is Haegang. It’s an emergency involving the Chairman. I’ll give you the address, so send a car immediately. Keep it strictly confidential. Yes, please.”

After hanging up, Namyeong checked on Yeorok once more. His face was ghostly pale; he had already slipped into unconsciousness. Namyeong clicked his tongue quietly, focusing all his effort on keeping Yeorok’s head from moving.

A moment later, a private ambulance crept discreetly into the alleyway. Medical staff rushed into the building’s emergency exit, placed Yeorok on a stretcher, and began administering basic first aid.

Choi Yeorok was soon moved into the ambulance. In the dead of night, the entire process unfolded without a sound.

“Will you come with us?”

Before boarding, Namyeong asked for confirmation. Eunho hesitated for only a heartbeat before climbing into the ambulance. He had to see Yeorok’s condition with his own eyes. He was already frantic with anxiety; waiting behind would have been nothing short of torture.

The private ambulance entered the hospital grounds with its sirens cut. The hospital director and several chief department heads were already waiting outside the emergency entrance. Given that the patient was no ordinary individual, their faces were etched with visible tension.

The moment the rear doors opened, the stretcher was whisked out. The medical staff crowded so tightly around it that not even a fingertip of Choi Yeorok was visible to Eunho.

The emergency room staff moved with clockwork precision. Yeorok was taken to a prepared area for treatment and a series of tests. Fortunately, it was only a mild concussion, nothing life-threatening. His loss of consciousness had been the result of temporary shock coupled with anemia.

Since Eunho was publicly known as his nephew, no one found it strange that he acted as Yeorok’s guardian. Though his own face was as ashen as the injured man’s, he was pinned to Namyeong’s side throughout the long hours.

A short while later, Choi Yeorok was moved to the VIP ward. In a single room as spacious and comfortable as a hotel suite, he fell into a death-like sleep.

Eunho never left his side for a single moment. The hours of waiting were endless, providing him more than enough time to be tormented by his own thoughts.

“…Ha.”

Eunho let out a heavy sigh, clutching his forehead with both hands. He hated to admit it, but Yeorok’s words were the truth. Despite having thrown everything away to run, the reason he had stubbornly remained in Seoul was likely due to a lingering attachment he couldn’t sever.

If he truly wanted nothing to do with Choi Yeorok, he should have left long ago. It wasn’t as if his life there held such immense value. He could have just walked away from his deposit and quit his part-time job.

And yet, he had stayed. He had remained steadfast, waiting for Choi Yeorok to find him.

Whenever he saw someone resembling him, his eyes would follow. While he claimed to hate and despise him, he never stopped thinking of Yeorok. Saying he was sick of him was a lie; in reality, it seemed he wanted Yeorok to catch him, to cling to him, and to beg him until the very end.

But he had also vaguely assumed that, eventually, Choi Yeorok would simply grow tired and give up. That was just the kind of man he was. He thought that once they became complete strangers with no point of contact, he would finally be able to shake off this persistent attachment.

If that time ever came, would he have felt relieved? He didn’t really know.

While he was struggling with these thoughts, a knock sounded and Namyeong entered the room. Eunho slowly raised his head at the sound.

Namyeong silently observed the state of both men. One was still sleeping soundly, while the other’s face was clouded with worry.

The emotional toll of the night had left Eunho looking like a mess. He wasn’t just exhausted; his eyelids were terribly swollen. Stains of dried blood were visible on his T-shirt and across his neck.

Namyeong pulled a change of clothes from a shopping bag he had brought.

“Sim Eunho-ssi, please change your clothes.”

Eunho didn’t even look at the clothes, his eyes fixed Yeorok. He had no intention of leaving his side.

“Chairman… why isn’t he waking up?”

“He will wake up soon. You heard the explanation, didn’t you, Sim Eunho-ssi?”

The doctor had explained it was a concussion and that, considering the force of the impact, there were no other complications. But it was hard to believe. Eunho stared at the peacefully sleeping face.

“There’s no way he’s fine. He bled… so much.”

“I told you, scalp wounds bleed more profusely than other areas.”

“They said he’d wake up in a few hours. But he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. Are you sure he’s okay? Shouldn’t we run the tests again? Is this hospital actually good? Should we move him to another one?!”

“No, Sim Eunho-ssi. That’s not it.”

As Eunho spoke in a frantic, rapid-fire burst, Namyeong held up his hands, looking troubled. He repeatedly urged Eunho to calm down, trying to soothe his agitation.

“He hasn’t lost consciousness; he’s simply fallen asleep.”

“…….”

“He hasn’t been sleeping at all lately, and he has a severe cold. Due to several factors… his physical condition was poor. Yes, that’s probably why.”

“What does that mean? Was there some other problem besides the cold?”

Eunho latched onto the end of his sentence. His already large eyes widened further, his lips parting. Seeing this, Namyeong sighed inwardly. This was exactly why Choi Yeorok couldn’t let go of hope.

While feigning indifference and acting cold as if he had let go of everything, Sim Eunho occasionally betrayed the fact that he hadn’t forgotten Yeorok. He seemed entirely unaware that his instinctive reactions revealed his true feelings.

Namyeong rubbed his jaw, where dark stubble was beginning to show. He, too, let out a heavy, troubled sigh.

“The truth is….”

Namyeong began to speak cautiously. He revealed everything: how Yeorok suffered from such severe insomnia that he slept only two hours a night, and how he had been living on IV drips due to stress. He confessed that since Sim Eunho had broken down, Choi Yeorok had been losing his vitality day by day.

“I thought he would find his footing again after you left, but he didn’t. He was just moving forward out of habit; it wouldn’t have been strange if he had collapsed at any moment.”

“…….”

“I know this is overstepping… but Yeorok was sincere. He truly cherished you, and he was prepared to give up a great deal to be with you.”

Namyeong was speaking now not as a secretary, but as Choi Yeorok’s longtime friend. He sighed again.

“As the person who watched him from the closest distance, I can say with certainty that you were someone very special to him.”

“…That really is overstepping.”

Eunho muttered, his head in his hands. His head felt like it was splitting because of Namyeong, who was now acting as Choi Yeorok’s advocate.

His thoughts were already a tangled mess. In a state where he couldn’t reach a decision, these unwanted words were shaking his resolve.

“It sounds like you’re saying that because the Chairman is so valuable, and because such a ‘precious’ person is being ruined because of me, I should be generous and forgive him.”

“…….”

“I know how much you care for him, Secretary Namyeong. But whether or not I forgive him is my decision to make. Please don’t interfere.”

Namyeong wiped his stiff face with his palm. Then, he bowed, his forehead nearly touching his knees.

“…What are you doing?”

Eunho winced at the sight of such extreme formality. To him, it looked as though Namyeong was begging on Choi Yeorok’s behalf for Eunho to look kindly upon him.

“Nothing will change just because you do this, Secretary.”

“I’m apologizing because I’ve been deceiving you, too.”

Namyeong bowed again, his voice quiet but heavy. “I am truly sorry.”

Eunho covered his face with his palms. The unexpected apology drained the tension out of his body. The anger that had been simmering in his chest vanished, leaving him feeling hollow and spent.

“…I just have one question…”

Eunho said, his voice trailing off.

“Yes?”

“Has the chairman been watching me this whole time?”

Namyeong’s eyes wavered. He glanced toward the sleeping Yeorok, hesitating, torn over whether he had the right to speak without permission.

But the man on the bed remained dead to the world, and Eunho was staring him down with a gaze so intense it was stifling. Namyeong eventually let out a heavy sigh and gave in.

“I found out where you lived the day you signed the lease. There was no way to miss it once the financial transactions hit Choi Yoonho’s name. From that day on, he had people watching you. I received a report every single day… mostly about where you went, what you did.”

Eunho listened in silence. Namyeong, usually so composed, squirmed uncomfortably under the quiet.

The rest of the truth followed. Yeorok knew everything: where Eunho worked, how he lived like a hermit when he wasn’t at his part-time job, even the reasons behind his hospital visits.

When he realized Yeorok had basically bought off everyone from the landlord to the convenience store owner, Eunho actually let out a dry laugh. It was so classic, so typical of Choi Yeorok.

Eunho stared at the floor for a long time afterward, propping his chin on his hand, looking drained.

“…He’ll stop eventually. He’s not exactly a man with time to kill. He’s not the type to waste his energy on something so meaningless.”

“If he could have given up, he would have done it by now,” Namyeong countered. “I tried to talk him out of it myself, more than once. I thought it would be better for everyone if he just let go.”

“……”

“But I suppose you’re someone he’s willing to go this far for. So, what else can I do?”

Revealing Yeorok’s private life like this was unthinkable for Namyeong. But looking at the two of them, he knew this relationship was a dead end unless someone spoke up.

“Change your clothes and try to get some rest. I’ll come back to switch with you later.”

Namyeong used the clothes as an excuse to slip out and give Eunho some space to think.

When the door closed, the room fell silent, save for the sound of breathing. Eunho’s own breaths felt heavy in his throat. He let out a long, weary sigh and finally let his eyes rest on the sleeping man.

‘Do you think I’m okay? I’m bleeding dry every day because of you.’

He knew those words were the truth now. He’d only denied them because he was terrified of being shaken. But the lock he’d placed on his heart was finally starting to give.

Eunho sighed again. He didn’t know what to do anymore, but he knew one thing for certain: hurting Yeorok didn’t make him feel any better.

He reached out toward the bed. With fingertips that still bore the traces of his life as Choi Yoonho, he traced the lines of Yeorok’s hand, the veins, the smooth skin, almost like he was stealing a touch he didn’t deserve.

Then, Yeorok’s fingers slowly curled around his.

“……”

Eunho didn’t pull away. He wasn’t even surprised. He just looked at Yeorok’s face, as if he’d known all along the man was awake.

Yeorok’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. It was weak and dry, as hollow as his voice.

“…I don’t care if it’s just pity,” Yeorok’s voice was raspy. “I won’t ask you to forgive me yet. Just… just smile for me once.”

Eunho stared at him. The man was as shameless as ever. How could he possibly smile right now? He wanted to hit him, but he couldn’t bring himself to beat a man in a hospital gown.

The resentment and the sorrow coiled together in his chest, hot and suffocating. It burned behind his eyes until, inevitably, they began to sting.

“I asked you to smile, and here you are crying.”

Yeorok sat up and gently tugged on Eunho’s wrist, pulling him in close so he could finally let it all out.

Eunho bunched the fabric of Yeorok’s gown in his fists, clutching him like he was trying to tear him apart. He was shaking, but he didn’t pull away. He stayed right there, buried in Yeorok’s embrace.

A raw, broken sob escaped his lips. As the hospital gown grew damp with Eunho’s tears, Yeorok felt a dull ache in his own chest. No matter how many times he saw this, he never got used to the pain.

Yeorok rubbed his back until the sobbing started to subside. When it didn’t stop, he eventually reached up and cupped Eunho’s face. His palms were instantly soaked.

“Look at you. Your face is all puffed up like a dumpling.”

Yeorok joked softly. He looked at Eunho’s swollen eyelids and tear-soaked lashes. To him, every inch of the man was beautiful.

Eunho choked on another sob at the joke, his chin wrinkling as he tried to hold back the next wave of tears. Yeorok just watched him, captivated.

He wiped Eunho’s cheeks with his thumbs, wanting so madly to lean in and kiss him. But he checked himself. Being able to touch him, to have him this close; he had to be satisfied with that for now.

Fortunately, Eunho didn’t pull back. He stayed quiet even when Yeorok’s thumbs brushed his lips. He was opening up, slowly, piece by piece.

Overwhelmed, Yeorok pulled him back into a hug, burying his nose in Eunho’s hair. The soft scent and the feel of him made Yeorok’s throat feel tight. It felt as if Eunho was the one comforting him.

They were still holding each other when a knock came at the door.

Namyeong walked in and froze. He was relieved to see Yeorok awake, but the atmosphere was… complicated. He felt like an intruder in his own life.

He hesitated, then cleared his throat and stepped inside, trying to be as professional as possible. “Are you feeling alright? Any dizziness?”

“Yes,” Yeorok said, not letting go. Eunho’s face was still hidden against his chest, but his hands were still white-knuckled, gripping Yeorok’s sleeves.

Namyeong cleared his throat and kept going. “The wound is stitched. It’ll take about two weeks to heal. We need to keep you here for a few days to watch the concussion, so you might as well get a full checkup.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“I’ve pushed your schedule back. I wanted more time, but I could only clear three days.”

Yeorok sighed. Even with a hole in his head, the world wouldn’t let him rest.

He looked down. Eunho had peeked out from his chest to listen to Namyeong, looking up at him with those big, wet eyes. They weren’t angry anymore, and they weren’t cold. They were just transparent. Everything Eunho was feeling was right there for Yeorok to see.

Looking at him, Yeorok finally felt like he could breathe again. He had waited so long for this. Terrified that Eunho might vanish if he let go, he tightened his grip and pulled him back into his arms.