TTDOTO 8.5

Jae-an, mashing the controller buttons, pouted.

Having been soundly defeated by an AI set to “easy difficulty,” Jae-an turned off the console game and switched to the tablet. Matching colors to burst blocks—a game with no winning or losing, just simple clicking—wasn’t difficult, but without anyone letting him win, it was boring.

The living room phone rang at that moment. Setting down the tablet, Jae-an answered.

[What are you doing.]

“Playing games.”

[Doing well?]

“Just….”

[I’ll be there in 10 minutes, so get ready.]

“Huh? You’re coming home?”

[Yes. We need to pick up Baekgu.]

“Oh, right.”

[It’s chilly, so wear long sleeves.]

“Okay.”

Jae-an went to the dressing room and pulled out clothes. His ankle throbbed from hurrying anxiously. Rubbing the sharp ankle bone, Jae-an waited at the entrance holding the dog carrier.

Soon the front door opened and Seo Jae-rim entered. Upon spotting Jae-an standing at the entrance, Seo Jae-rim snickered.

“Can’t tell who the puppy is.”

Instead of answering, Jae-an put on his shoes and held the door open so Seo Jae-rim wouldn’t close it before stepping outside. At the hospital, they completed Baekgu’s discharge paperwork. A nurse brought Baekgu out in her arms, and the small puppy, frightened by the unfamiliar hospital, had buried its head deeply into the nurse’s forearm.

The nurse handed Baekgu to Jae-an. As he carefully picked him up, Baekgu immediately nestled its warm body against him.

Whether Baekgu recognized him or not, the fact that he wagged his tail at the right moment made Jae-an’s chest flutter. Compared to when he’d last seen him, his condition had clearly improved. Watching the small creature overcome its pain seemed remarkable.

The stitches would be removed in about ten days. Baekgu was wearing gauze on his side, and they said that after the gauze naturally fell off, he’d need to wear an Elizabethan collar so he wouldn’t lick the wound. After hearing all the precautions, Jae-an headed home.

When he opened the carrier, Baekgu showed no response. Looking down, he found the puppy had tightly closed his eyes and curled up inside. Not wanting to wake the sleeping pup, Jae-an gently set him down in a spot with good sunlight. Seo Jae-rim crouched down, touching Jae-an’s hair lightly as he examined the sleeping face.

“Oh, that’s right. Baekgu is such a common name, don’t you think? If you can think of a good one, keep it in mind.”

“Really? Baekgu seems fine though.”

“The dog in the next bed over was also named Baekgu.”

“Ah…. Okay, I’ll think about it.”

It had been such a hastily given name that it was indeed common and childish. Watching the small, troubled face, Seo Jae-rim withdrew his hand and said goodbye.

“I’ll head back to work.”

Left alone in the house, Jae-an mulled over a new name for Baekgu even while playing games and snacking from the refrigerator. Looking at his fluffy fur, clouds came to mind. His round, small shape resembled a hotteok¹ or injeolmi tteok.² Jae-an, pondering various names, dozed off sitting diagonally on the sofa.

“……!”

Startling awake, Baekgu also jumped in surprise at the sudden movement. Jae-an apologized and reached out his hand. His fingertips were already wet with saliva. While he’d slept, his arm had hung off the sofa, and the puppy had been licking his fingers the whole time.

As Jae-an pushed himself up, Baekgu clung closer and barked, making a perfect O with his mouth.

“Hmm. Hungry?”

Hurriedly, Jae-an poured kibble into a bowl. He also refilled the half-empty water bowl, and Baekgu immediately buried his face in the food dish. The urgent smacking sounds indicated real hunger.

“Eat slowly.”

For some reason, he was reminded of a ten-year-old child frantically eating a Swiss roll cake. Jae-an crouched beside him and watched Baekgu empty the bowl.

In the blink of an eye, Baekgu had eaten everything and fussed around Jae-an’s side. Jae-an stroked his forehead and chin.

Baekgu, melting into increasingly comfortable positions, soon fell asleep on the rug. The saying that young puppies sleep a lot seemed true, given how he slept at all hours. Regretting that the purchased cushion wasn’t being used, Jae-an carefully laid Baekgu on the dog bed. As the sun began to set, golden sunlight streamed into the house.

Fascinated by the sleeping form, Jae-an crossed his arms at his sides and watched. Baekgu was mixed-breed, they’d said. He looked like several types of dogs combined, and they couldn’t say how big he’d grow. Whether small or large, Baekgu seemed like he’d be cute either way.

“Your eyelashes are white too. Do you have double eyelids?”

As Jae-an murmured, Baekgu’s ears twitched, and Jae-an, startled, closed his mouth. Then he suddenly realized he’d been speaking so naturally to something other than Seo Jae-rim. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held a normal conversation with anyone but Jae-rim. Baekgu couldn’t answer or ask questions back—that’s probably why it felt easier.

Listening to the soft snoring, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His eyes drifted to the light fixture hanging from the high white ceiling. In that drowsy state, his body felt heavy, but then something faint in a corner of the wall began to take shape.

“Ha….”

Biting his lip, he covered his eyes with his forearm. Despite seeing nothing, his mind conjured concrete images—his mother’s resentful gaze, Jang Han-seong’s corpse gone white with foam at his lips, the unknown foreigner with a severed wrist. All monsters born from his trauma and guilt.

Jae-an shook his head and then pounded his thighs forcefully. Hitting his cheeks would alert Seo Jae-rim, so his thighs—hidden by clothes—were his only safe target.

The searing pain, almost burning, made his mind clearer. Frantically scratching and hitting his thighs, he felt something warm touch his hand. Jae-an’s shoulders trembled as he opened tear-filled eyes.

“Huh?”

Baekgu had pushed Jae-an’s hand with his head. When Jae-an, bewildered, withdrew his hand, the puppy licked over his loungewear. More precisely, over the thighs where blood was seeping through. Realizing the situation belatedly, Jae-an let out a small sigh.

“Sorry for waking you up.”

Baekgu licked his thigh, then opened his mouth wide in a huge yawn before flopping down. Since Baekgu’s head was resting on his thigh, Jae-an couldn’t move. Listening to the puppy’s steady breathing, Jae-an blinked his dry eyes and looked back up at the ceiling. Fortunately, the dark shape had disappeared.

He woke with a sinking sensation in his body. Darkness had fallen, and not a single light entered the living room. Jae-an blinked his dry eyes and wiped his cheeks.

It had become habit to close his eyes whenever something touched his head; now he could sleep well even on a hard floor rather than a bed. Not being able to sleep properly without sleeping pills felt like a past life.

Seo Jae-rim seemed to have draped the blanket over him. Jae-an gathered the blanket as he slowly pushed himself up. He checked the cushion, but Baekgu, who’d been sleeping soundly, was gone. Jae-an rose and headed toward the dining room where delicious smells wafted. The sound of something frying in a pan was loud.

Seo Jae-rim was busy preparing dinner. Around his bustling figure, Baekgu also seemed busy—biting at the slippers Seo Jae-rim wore and fussing about. Seo Jae-rim crossed the kitchen with long strides, narrowly avoiding the puppy. Jae-an felt nervous about Jae-rim’s careless footsteps—what if he accidentally touched the wound?

“Here.”

Just then, Seo Jae-rim cut the root of the cabbage he was stir-frying and tossed it to Baekgu. The puppy frantically chewed the piece of cabbage. Apparently pleased, he quickly tilted his head back and clung to Seo Jae-rim’s leg, his short legs demanding more. Finding the small creature’s brave requests amusing, Seo Jae-rim tossed another cabbage piece and turned his head toward Jae-an.

“You’re awake?”

“Yeah.”

At Jae-an’s voice, Baekgu immediately ran over. Jae-an carefully picked up the puppy bounding over on short legs.

The kitchen was still an active cooking space—potentially dangerous for a pup still bearing stitches. Seo Jae-rim looked at Jae-an and the puppy in his arms before turning his head sharply.

“It’ll be ready soon, so sit.”

Jae-an portioned out Baekgu’s evening kibble into a bowl and set the puppy down in front of it. With no one competing for his food, Baekgu still ate urgently. Jae-an pulled out a chair and sat at the table.

Tonight was Chinese cuisine. There were many meat dishes and oily preparations, but near Jae-an’s seat sat watercress soup, egg drop soup, and crab meat congee. Apparently, considering how Jae-an would get indigestion from anything too rich or salty, Seo Jae-rim had prepared additional dishes.

Just counting the number of dishes made Jae-an uncomfortable; he rubbed his stomach in a circle. Though he’d become insensitive to this lifestyle, his gut still instinctively rejected food.

Emotions festering inside often surfaced as unexplained fevers or poor digestion. For the past eighteen years, Seo Jae-rim’s food had always tasted genuinely delicious. Perhaps because it so plainly revealed how much their relationship had changed, Seo Jae-rim would visibly pout and click his tongue irritably when Jae-an struggled to eat.

Since Seo Jae-rim tested his jealousy, Jae-an had felt abandonment anxiety acutely and resolved to do his best with what he could control: eating, not getting sick. Neither was easy, but he didn’t want to further upset Seo Jae-rim.

He scooped a spoonful of congee made with crab meat and ate it. Appropriately warm and soft, it was easy to swallow. Seo Jae-rim ate fried meat with salad. As they quietly emptied their bowls, Seo Jae-rim posed a question.

“Did you think of a new name for Baekgu?”

“Oh, yeah. I did think about it.”

Jae-an, fiddling with his spoon, recited the names he’d mulled over all day.

“Because it’s so round like white rice cake, I thought of injeolmi tteok, and similar in feel were tofu and hotteok, which also seemed nice. Since his fur’s white, clouds, milk, and winter also seemed good. Somsom… I thought about Somsom too. You know, because it’s cotton?³ The cotton in quilts…. Oh, and if I named him in English, it might be a bit more refined? I thought about that too—names like Leo or Louis.”

Seo Jae-rim listened silently as Jae-an spoke without pause for breath, then nodded. Jae-an touched his neck and asked hesitantly.

“Too many, right? What do you think sounds good?”

“Hmm.”

Seo Jae-rim, placing fried meat on a side plate with chopsticks, answered.

“Jaegu.”

Jae-an’s eyebrows rose.

“Huh? Jaegu?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see that coming….”

While Seo Jae-rim chewed the fried meat thoroughly, he made eye contact.

“I thought Jaegu would be nice.”

“Ah, ah. Sure…. Yeah. Your opinion matters too.”

Jae-an nodded in agreement.

“So what should we pick?”

“I think Jaegu would be nice.”

“Ah. I think Milk suits him a bit better….”

“I prefer Jaegu. Since we’re raising him together, using a shared character would be nice.”

The feeling was so different from what Jae-an had considered that he scratched the back of his head. Jaegu wasn’t uncommon, so it wasn’t bad, but he’d expected a different feeling once they changed from Baekgu.

Honestly, having already distanced himself from the name Baekgu, it seemed somehow tacky, but he didn’t voice it. Seo Jae-rim’s expression was serious—being honest would hurt him.

Sensing Jae-an’s hesitation, Seo Jae-rim offered a compromise.

“How about we do it this way? Whoever wins at a game gets to name him.”

He seemed to mean the console games they played after meals. Jae-an nodded. His win rate in console games was one hundred percent. Since Seo Jae-rim would let him win anyway, he’d just playfully played along.

After eating a few more spoonfuls of crab congee, Jae-an set down his spoon. Seo Jae-rim glanced at the remaining congee.

“I promised to eat well to raise Jaegu.”

“Oh, right.”

The way Seo Jae-rim already called him Jaegu bothered Jae-an a little, but he obediently picked up the spoon. Swallowing the urge to leave some, he filled his mouth with congee. While he struggled, Seo Jae-rim placed fried meat on the empty spoon. The meat required more chewing, which was taxing, but he mechanically moved his jaw. He didn’t want to hear threats about Jaegu.

Having finished eating earlier, Seo Jae-rim waited for Jae-an to finish before clearing the dishes. The two walked from the dining room and, as if by agreement, sat on the sofa and picked up controllers.

The sound of button presses was more passionate than conversation. After a fierce match, a long-haired princess character bounced joyfully across the screen. A character boasting a massive build squeezed out tears in a corner.

Seo Jae-rim set down his controller with a satisfied smile.

“Jaegu wants to get on the sofa.”

Baekgu—or rather, Jaegu—had his front paws on the sofa, panting. Jae-an, still not accepting the result, only blinked at the now-switched-to-standby screen.

“I… lost…?”

“You lost, hyung.”

For the first time. Jae-an, unable to easily accept his first defeat, faintly furrowed his brow.

“Why…?”

“You lose sometimes when gaming. Pick Jaegu up. He’s whining.”

With a bewildered expression, Jae-an picked up Jaegu. Once on the sofa, Jaegu eagerly sniffed at Jae-an and Seo Jae-rim before settling midway through with a soft thud. A slightly more refined name occurred to Jae-an. He spoke carefully.

“If we really have to use a shared character…. How about Jaeri?”

“We decided on Jaegu.”

Seo Jae-rim answered flatly, and the moment he called out “Jaegu,” the puppy lifted his small head and rushed to Seo Jae-rim. Noticing Jae-an’s expression wasn’t bright, Seo Jae-rim scratched the back of Jaegu’s neck and asked.

“Want a rematch if you’re that upset?”

“…Never mind.”

Jae-an didn’t want another confirmation of how much Seo Jae-rim had been letting him win. Ironically, Jaegu seemed perfectly comfortable in Seo Jae-rim’s arms. Jae-an fiddled with the controller and shut off the game.