Chapter 34: The Forgotten Promise

Eun Yoonwoo.

It was Yoonwoo’s name. Yeon-chae remembered his smiling face, his dark eyes, his soft cheeks, and the faint scent of soap that had clung to his embrace. Yet, for a long time, Yeon-chae had forgotten that very name.

The smiling expression, with his large eyes crinkling into crescent moons, hadn’t changed in the slightest. Feeling utterly bewildered, Yeon-chae counted the years on his fingers, trying to grasp the passage of time.

Twelve years had passed. It was a span of time so vast that even using both hands to count wouldn’t suffice.

‘But how could he not have changed at all?’

His delicate, finely featured white face seemed smaller than Yeon-chae’s own palm. His faintly rosy cheeks were just as soft as they had been when he was a ten-year-old child.

Yoonwoo, who had confidently declared he would become an Alpha with that face, seemed somewhat pathetic. Equally so was Yeon-chae, who had cried inconsolably, believing that boast and thinking he couldn’t manifest as an Omega.

His long eyes, with their faint inner double eyelids, were large and pitch-black. Yoonwoo blinked those big eyes, gazing in Yeon-chae’s direction. When their gazes finally met, he offered a shy, bashful smile.

A sharp ache pierced Yeon-chae’s chest. His heart throbbed with a tingling sensation, its beats quickening rapidly.

“Um, hyung…”

After a moment of hesitation, Yeon-chae spoke. His voice trailed off uncertainly, but he quickly corrected himself, calling out, “Sunbaenim.”

“Do you… perhaps not recognize me?”

The brief moment of waiting for an answer stretched into an eternity. As Yoonwoo blinked, staring intently at Yeon-chae, his eyelashes fluttered softly.

A fine sweat beaded on Yeon-chae’s clenched palms. Unable to avert his gaze, Yeon-chae remained frozen as Yoonwoo finally offered a gentle smile.

“Hm? Of course I do, Oh Yeon-chae hoobaenim. We just met a moment ago, didn’t we?”

The soaring hope burst like a soap bubble, vanishing into thin air. Memories were truly this unfair.

Even if the nine-year-old boy next door, who had promised marriage, had once been Yeon-chae’s entire world, those childhood memories held less value than a fleeting laugh for the twenty-two-year-old Yoonwoo, who had completely forgotten them.

“No, not now…”

Unable to erase his lingering attachment, he parted his lips to speak. However, Yeon-chae quickly shook his head, shaking off the stubborn thoughts clinging to him.

“No, I apologize.”

If Yoonwoo didn’t remember, then that was fine. It was merely a past from a very long time ago.

Just meeting him again like this felt like recovering a faded photo album lost ages ago.

‘Even so, how could he forget a marriage promise?’

It wasn’t as if such a thought hadn’t crossed his mind.

Still, the feeling of injustice was unavoidable. Yeon-chae pouted his lower lip slightly, then quickly corrected his expression, afraid Yoonwoo might see.

For several weeks after that, Yeon-chae merely hovered around Yoonwoo, unable to even speak to him.

There was no common ground between Yeon-chae, a freshman, and Yoonwoo, a senior. Although they were in the same department, their majors and general education courses were entirely different, ensuring their schedules never overlapped.

Still, if Yeon-chae sat in the department lounge all day, lucky days would occasionally come. Yoonwoo would sometimes open the lounge door, carrying triangle kimbap and cup noodles. Each time, Yeon-chae’s heart would plummet, and his chest would ache sharply.

“Please have this.”

“Hm? No, you eat it.”

“I’m full. If I leave it, I probably won’t eat it later.”

“Are you throwing it away? If you’re throwing it away, give it to me.”

It started with a sandwich, impulsively offered to Yoonwoo. It was an ambitious new menu item from a sandwich shop that had just opened on the first floor of the officetel building.

Yeon-chae had watched silently as Yoonwoo, having completely finished his triangle kimbap and cup noodles, licked his lips with a wistful expression. He then decided to speak.

He had secretly worried that Yoonwoo, unlike his childhood self, seemed to keep people at a distance. Unexpectedly, however, Yoonwoo had a distinct weakness for food. It seemed he hadn’t changed much from the time he’d been swayed by a cream cake and promised marriage.

Yoonwoo devoured the sandwich in the blink of an eye, and his verdict was this:

“It tastes incredibly healthy.”

“What does that mean?”

Yeon-chae’s brow furrowed, unable to tell if that meant the sandwich was good or bad. Seeing his expression, Yoonwoo burst out laughing.

Beyond the window, the afternoon sun poured in, illuminating the white dust settled throughout the department lounge. In that cramped, untidy space, only Yoonwoo’s smiling face shone brightly. Shaking his head, Yoonwoo patted Yeon-chae’s shoulder, wearing an apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry, since you gave it to me. I prefer the taste of MSG.”

After eating it all, that’s what he said. It meant it didn’t taste good.

“That’s bad for your health.”

His cheeks puffed out, and an unconsciously sulky voice escaped him. Yoonwoo chuckled again.

“Is Yeon-chae so handsome because you only eat healthy food?”

His placating tone treated Yeon-chae like a child. Feeling even more upset, Yeon-chae secretly grumbled in his mind.

‘Hyung. You shouldn’t talk to your fiancé like that.’

Of course, he couldn’t even utter such words in front of Yoonwoo.

The next day, Yeon-chae had no classes. Despite having no reason to go to school, a provoked Yeon-chae chopped carrots, lotus roots, and eggs with a resounding thud of his kitchen knife on the officetel’s spacious counter.

He fried and stir-fried, making a veritable mountain of kimbap. Not a speck of MSG was used, but instead of kimbap ham, he put in grilled pork belly. The savory, greasy aroma was so enticing, it was impossible not to reach for it.

When he went to put the kimbap on a plate, it looked a bit pathetic to claim he’d made it himself. Yeon-chae hurriedly ran to the supermarket to buy disposable packaging containers.

Meeting Yoonwoo in the department lounge, he presented the kimbap in the disposable container, pretending he had bought it from a kimbap shop.

“Wow… What is this?”

“Pork belly kimbap.”

“There’s such a thing?”

“Would you like to try some?”

“Can I eat it? Didn’t you buy it for yourself?”

“There’s a lot. But it doesn’t have MSG in it.”

He hadn’t intended to say that, but the word that had been stuck in his throat suddenly blurted out.

“What? What MSG?”

Yoonwoo looked bewildered, as if he didn’t understand. ‘What exactly does he remember?’

‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

Yeon-chae sighed deeply, pushing the kimbap, tightly packed into its square container, toward Yoonwoo.

“Wow. This is really delicious. Where do they sell something like this? I want to buy some too.”

“Uh…”

‘What should I say about where it’s sold?’ As Yeon-chae found himself in a predicament, Yoonwoo’s murmuring voice reached his ears again.

“But it must be really expensive.”

“Yes, well.”

Given it was Jeju black pork belly, the ingredient cost alone was quite substantial. Yeon-chae nodded, feeling a little smug.

Yoonwoo’s shoulders slumped, and he looked dejected.

“I won’t be able to buy it often. I’ll have to savor it.”

“Hmm…”

Yoonwoo picked up a piece of kimbap and popped it into his mouth. He chewed it very, very slowly, savoring each bite. With each disappearing piece of kimbap, his expression of regret was almost endearing.

Yeon-chae was thrilled that Yoonwoo liked the kimbap he had made so much. However, on the other hand, he also resented Yoonwoo for being so affectionate towards the kimbap, yet so indifferent towards him.

‘Please pay some attention to me too. I’m your fiancé, hyung…’

That’s how Yeon-chae gradually became closer to Yoonwoo. Every time he went to the department lounge, he would lay out a new snack, and sometimes they would eat lunch together.

They were never alone; it was always with other department members. However, since his goal was to slowly and steadily insinuate himself into Yoonwoo’s life, that was perfectly fine.

One day, Yeon-chae subtly joined Yoonwoo’s classmates who were going to an all-you-can-eat pork belly restaurant near the back gate. Yoonwoo then grilled golden-brown pork rind on the grill in front of Yeon-chae and said:

“Eat a lot, Yeon-chae. The pork rind here is really delicious.”

‘From now on, I should put pork rind instead of pork belly in the kimbap,’ Yeon-chae thought.

It was around that time Yeon-chae learned that Yoonwoo had been working part-time at a cafe since his freshman year. By hovering near Yoonwoo and listening to his conversations with friends, Yeon-chae could roughly guess the cafe’s location.

After agonizing for several days, Yeon-chae could no longer bear it and set out to find the cafe where Yoonwoo worked. He finally found Yoonwoo at what must have been the fourth or fifth cafe.

“How did you know to come here? It’s so out of the way that our department friends don’t usually know about it. They say it’s too far, and they won’t come even if I offer a discount. Isn’t that cold-hearted? But wait, did you come to see me?”

“…”

‘How did he know?’ His heart, already pounding from the five Americanos he’d downed, now thumped wildly at the direct hit. It felt like caffeine poisoning.

Just as Yeon-chae’s face paled to an almost greenish hue, Yoonwoo’s eyes crinkled as he burst into a wide smile.

“Ah, sorry. I’ve been working all day, and there haven’t been any customers. I think this is the first time I’ve spoken today.”

“Yes…”

Yeon-chae, trying to calm his startled heart, placed a hand on his left chest and smoothed it down.

It was a stroke of luck that he managed to secure a lunch date with Yoonwoo at the end of their conversation. Yeon-chae had to summon a thousand years’ worth of courage to ask Yoonwoo to buy him a meal instead of accepting the complimentary cake he offered.

After saying it, he felt as though he was asking for a much more expensive meal than a 5,000 won cake, so he brought up the agricultural college cafeteria, which was similarly priced. It was a place Yeon-chae had been eyeing for a while.

The agricultural college cafeteria was on the opposite side of campus, but the path there was beautiful, and it was located on the third floor overlooking a hillside, offering a splendid view.

The night before their first date, Yeon-chae was so excited he couldn’t sleep well. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, eventually pulling out his phone. This was a rare opportunity, and he wanted to make the most of it.

Staring intently at the search bar, he pondered, then tapped the screen, typing, ‘How to succeed in unrequited love.’ Ignoring the useless advertisements and gaudy adult sites, he scrolled down to find a few helpful blogs.

‘Share common hobbies.’ Yeon-chae read the post carefully.

‘Especially popular these days is indoor bouldering in Amsa-dong! It’s a unique and healthy sport that many people enjoy. A hobby you can share with that special someone—Amsa-dong bouldering! Why not give it a try this weekend?’

“Oh…”

The blogger also suggested various other activities Yoonwoo might enjoy, beyond the unique and healthy Amsa-dong bouldering. Yeon-chae nodded, jotting down each suggested activity in his notepad.

After completing the list, he tried to imagine Yoonwoo doing Amsa-dong bouldering.

“Hmm…”

It didn’t quite seem right.

Yeon-chae carefully scanned the list in his notepad again. While they had all seemed great when he wrote them down, imagining Yoonwoo doing them didn’t feel like such a good idea after all.

Yeon-chae pondered a little longer. After much thought and digging through his memories, he finally recalled a time when he and Yoonwoo had gone swimming together as children.

The next day, he waited for the right moment and brought up swimming to Yoonwoo. It didn’t work at all.