Chapter 36: The Tulip and Lingering Concerns

Ryu Yishin had always considered that particular emotion futile. It was only around the age of seventeen, when he had matured enough to truly comprehend it, that he finally understood what it was: concern and pity.

Jung Hanseol hadn’t lacked basic common sense. Rather, he had been utterly startled by Ryu Yishin’s blood-soaked appearance, genuinely concerned he might be in further pain. With a face on the verge of tears, he had then repeatedly urged him to go to the hospital.

What had he felt, he wondered, when Jung Hanseol had immediately pressed his lips against his own after that? Ryu Yishin quietly replayed the events of last night, recalling the electrifying thrill he had experienced—a pleasure so intense it had momentarily blurred all his other memories.

“Still, just in case, make sure you go to the hospital, Yishin.”

“If you don’t like the affiliated hospital here, I’ll talk to Dr. Song for you, so make time to stop by. Hmm? Or I can simply ask Dr. Song to come here, if that’s easier.”

Unaware of the thoughts consuming Ryu Yishin, Director An spoke, his words imbued solely with profound concern for his son.

Ryu Yishin immediately furrowed his brow, raking a hand through his hair. He listened to his father’s continuous stream of words for only a brief moment.

Amidst his father’s incessant, ineffectual nagging—pleas for a family dinner after so long, or a visit home to see his mother—Ryu Yishin finally pushed back his chair and abruptly stood.

He had arrived with a measure of generous forbearance, despite having vowed not to visit for a while. Yet, even that last shred of patience had now completely evaporated.

Crushed beneath Ryu Yishin’s ferocious aura, which seemed poised to freeze and shatter everything in the room, Director An finally clamped his mouth shut. He nervously observed his son, assessing his mood.

Ryu Yishin was about to turn and exit the room when he suddenly paused, his gaze falling once more upon the tulips in the vase he had been idly watching all along.

“Father.”

“Uh, yes?”

Director An, who had been cautiously observing his son, was startled by the voice that called him, his eyes darting wildly.

Ryu Yishin abruptly picked up the vase. He then lowered his head slightly, his gaze meeting Director An’s.

“Please send flowers more often from now on.”

“Uh… uh? Flo-flowers? Often…?”

“I’m taking this.”

After delivering a statement that bordered on a command, Ryu Yishin exited the Director’s office with a surprisingly light step.

Unable to fathom what he had just heard, Director An even fumbled at both his ears, as if to check if they were still properly attached.

Only after a considerable time did Director An regain his senses. He hurriedly fumbled in his pants pocket, pulling out his phone.

He stared blankly at the empty spot where the vase of splendid yellow tulips had once stood. Then, he dialed a number.

“Honey… Yishin seems a bit… st-strange… What should I do?”

The other party answered shortly after, and Director An began to pour out his words, his usually solemn face now contorted in distress. His voice was tinged with a slight sob.

****

On a rare day when Ryu Yishin was absent around lunchtime, a brief respite of freedom finally found Jung Hanseol.

After Ryu Yishin had left his room, Jung Hanseol silently counted to thirty. When he cautiously emerged, he found Woo Chanhee and Gwon Jiwook still in the office.

As it was lunchtime, they decided to eat together. The moment they stepped out of the office, both men gravitated to Jung Hanseol’s sides, walking closely.

This was the first time only the team’s guides had gathered, creating a somewhat unfamiliar yet oddly comforting sense of camaraderie.

“Hanseol, everything’s been fine, right? The team leader hasn’t been bothering you, has he? Like, forcibly exploiting your labor, or constantly demanding guiding—anything like that?”

As they walked towards the cafeteria, Woo Chanhee scrutinized Jung Hanseol, his eyes brimming with concern, as he posed the question.

Jung Hanseol consciously pushed aside the memories that flashed through his mind. He simply curved his eyes into a smile, nodding to convey that nothing untoward had happened.

In truth, merely recalling anything involving Ryu Yishin made him feel utterly drained. He greatly preferred not to dwell on those memories.

“Is it even right to ask about his welfare like this, when we’re on the same team?”

“Oh, exactly.”

Gwon Jiwook glanced at Jung Hanseol, who was smiling and nodding, then immediately launched into a string of complaints and grumbles.

Having been middle school classmates and close friends since before they even joined the company, the two seemed quite accustomed to their easy, casual banter.

Though they never explicitly mentioned the subject, Jung Hanseol had no trouble discerning that Ryu Yishin was the focal point of their grievances.

Entering the cafeteria, which felt even emptier than usual today, the three gathered at a table, each with their chosen meal.

Jung Hanseol gazed at his omurice, which seemed to glisten with an extra sheen today. He swallowed once, then picked up his spoon.

“Ah, Hanseol. You know that day,”

“Yes? Which day…?”

“The day the team leader took a half-day off in the morning, you had lunch with him, right? Nothing happened that day?”

Woo Chanhee, who had, as always, chosen tonkatsu for lunch, skillfully cut a large piece of it. He then posed his worried question.

Jung Hanseol, who had been blinking in confusion at the sudden inquiry, recalled the detailed situation Woo Chanhee subsequently provided. He let out a small sigh.

That day had also been a somewhat somber one, when his lunch menu had instantly transformed from meat to a sandwich.

It was also the day he learned of Ryu Yishin’s unexpected penchant for sweets, and endured the absurd question of whether he had kissed Jo Jinwoo.

Both, of course, were topics he was reluctant to disclose in front of others.

In situations like this, vaguely brushing it off by claiming nothing happened was undoubtedly the wisest course of action.

Jung Hanseol momentarily halted his meandering memories and answered Woo Chanhee’s question.

“Yes… nothing happened.”

“Really, nothing at all?”

“…Yes.”

Despite Jung Hanseol’s answer, Woo Chanhee seemed unconvinced, tilting his head and pressing him once more.

Jung Hanseol offered a bright smile to the persistent Woo Chanhee, then began to chew a mouthful of rice. At that moment, Woo Chanhee poked his tonkatsu with a fork.

“It’s a relief that nothing happened to Hanseol, but…”

Woo Chanhee, his expression subtly conflicted, let his sentence trail off. He began to chew his tonkatsu thoughtfully.

Gwon Jiwook, seated beside Woo Chanhee, also tilted his head slightly. He, too, seemed to find Jung Hanseol’s assertion difficult to readily accept.

Why were they both making such expressions, even though he, the one directly involved, had insisted nothing happened? Jung Hanseol set down his spoon and asked them in a cautious voice.

“Did… you get scolded by the team leader because of me…?”

He had believed he sacrificed himself to shield his teammates from Ryu Yishin. Had that been a terribly simplistic misconception?

Just as embarrassment threatened to creep in—the thought that he might have been indulging in a hero complex all by himself—Woo Chanhee busily waved both hands as he replied.

“No, nothing like that. Nobody got scolded, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Ah…”

“Well, we didn’t get scolded, but it was a bit…”

Jung Hanseol was about to breathe a sigh of relief at Woo Chanhee’s reassurance, but then tensed up again as he trailed off with another ambiguous statement.

Woo Chanhee quickly scanned their surroundings, then lowered his voice considerably as he spoke.

“The team leader’s eyes were strange that day, and it’s been bothering me ever since.”

Gwon Jiwook, who had by now started to focus on Woo Chanhee’s words, tilted his head even further, seemingly unable to comprehend that particular remark. Had the team leader’s eyes been strange that day?

Jung Hanseol had always thought Ryu Yishin was inherently irritable and prickly, with a gaze that could freeze people. What could have been different that day? No matter how much he replayed it, Jung Hanseol couldn’t discern anything.

“He… the way he looked at Hanseol was a little… softer, I guess?”

“When the team leader looked at me…?”

“Yes. He was clearly glaring, like he wanted to kill everyone, right? So I thought someone was definitely going to become a frozen human here, but…”

Woo Chanhee mimicked Ryu Yishin from that day, furrowing his brow intensely. He brought both index fingers to the corners of his eyes, pushed them up, then slowly lowered them back to their original position.

“But the way he looked at Hanseol was like this.”

Woo Chanhee removed his hands from the now serene corners of his eyes and gazed at Jung Hanseol with a noticeably softer expression. Jung Hanseol, who hadn’t had the luxury of observing Ryu Yishin’s expression at the time, couldn’t readily agree with his words and merely offered an awkward smile.

It was Gwon Jiwook who reacted more dramatically.

“Dude, you saw that in the middle of all that? You’ve got guts. You almost became a frozen human yourself.”

“I just happened to see it. If I’d looked directly, I’d probably be recuperating with a broken limb somewhere right now.”

“You must have a pretty tough life force too, if you didn’t get caught.”

“Aren’t you and I the same?”

Jung Hanseol watched the two, who were exchanging conversations that, despite their playful tone, were utterly brutal in content. He couldn’t bring himself to put the spoonful of omurice into his mouth, instead just nervously observing them.

Recuperating with a broken limb somewhere… Although it was likely the worst-case scenario, the thought made him feel Ryu Yishin’s foul temper anew, and a faint shiver ran down his spine.

Gwon Jiwook let out a low chuckle. He took a spoonful of soup, then opened his mouth as if something had just occurred to him.

“Now that I think about it, the team leader seems to have changed a bit since Hanseol arrived. Didn’t he even overlook the deputy team leader’s mistake?”

“Oh… oh, right. Now that you mention it, that’s true. The office is still intact, too.”

Woo Chanhee, who was hastily eating tonkatsu generously dipped in sauce, nodded vigorously in agreement with Gwon Jiwook’s words.

Gwon Jiwook immediately elaborated for Jung Hanseol, who was just blinking his eyes in confusion.

“Well… as Hanseol knows, the team leader is a bit of an angry person, right?”

“Yes…”

“It’s not every day, but sometimes his eyes—no, uh, his eyes just go wild like this. And whenever that happens, the team leader breaks all the office furniture…”

“He… he breaks it all?”

“Yes. The phones breaking is so common that the general affairs team must have gotten sick of it; last month, they just brought us a whole box of them. Last year, he replaced his desk once a month, without fail… I think he’s replaced it twice this year too? Was the last time when Jiho caused trouble?”