Chapter 15: The Morning After: A Bunny Headband Revelation

Yoo Seo realized they had misspoken. They had meant to convey that Siohan Orphenos was not so frail, but it hardly sounded like comfort.

‘I need to be more precise with my words!’

“Hyung. Look. The reason Emperor Orphenos is so unwell right now is simply because his energy hasn’t fully recovered, yet he keeps summoning you again. For example, if summoning you requires 30 units of energy—though it’s not actually that much—if it needed 30, Emperor Orphenos would summon you as soon as he recovered 35. So, if he waited until he was at 100 and then summoned you, it wouldn’t end with him fainting like this.”

“Why didn’t you tell Siohan that?”

“Uh… it’s his own energy, wouldn’t he know best?”

“Right.”

Lee Doha’s voice was sharp.

“That’s precisely the problem.”

He kept depleting his own body, despite knowing better. Lee Doha couldn’t discern if this was all part of some elaborate scheme, or simply foolishness. Siohan didn’t seem like the type to act so imprudently, yet he was also an enigma. Moreover, as Yoo Seo had implied, Siohan had already given the answer as to why he couldn’t wait for his energy to recover further.

‘I truly wanted to see you.’

The problem, however, was that this answer itself was problematic. Lee Doha unconsciously rubbed his chest roughly. He felt a surge of anger, a stifling frustration. What truly irritated him was his inability to understand why he felt this way.

So, why, exactly?

Yoo Seo, observing his mood, looked like a dejected puppy. Feeling a pang of remorse for his unwarranted temper, especially since Yoo Seo had bounced over to deliver news of his contractor, Lee Doha handed him a sugar cookie, its body the only part remaining.

Instantly revitalized, Yoo Seo became cheerful once more, sucking on a candy as he fully immersed himself in the festival’s delights. He kindly posed for photos with people, tried on a hanbok, and even waited in a long line for an ‘aerial stroll’ with the so-called Korean University God.

Though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, Yoo Seo mingled as if completely inebriated, only departing when people, rather than empty bottles, began to tumble along the roadside.

Lee Doha rarely witnessed such scenes. While alcohol was enjoyable and gatherings were fun, once people started rolling around on the streets, ‘pizzas’ — referring to vomit — would soon begin to appear everywhere. That was neither amusing nor a pleasant sight.

Yet, on this particular day, the alcohol tasted unusually sweet. As he downed one glass after another, Lee Doha felt his vision begin to blur, and he swayed unsteadily to his feet. The ground seemed to be rocking beneath him.

Someone tried to steady him, but since they were also quite drunk, Lee Doha easily shrugged them off.

The buses had stopped running, and he couldn’t be bothered to hail a taxi. With a weary sigh, Lee Doha headed towards the department common room.

He collapsed onto a sofa that reeked faintly of stale cigarettes, and the world went dark around him. ‘I even made it without stumbling over anything.’ A silly thought, and then Lee Doha closed his eyes.

‘Hwairam.’

Was it a dream? He heard the voice again, the one that had echoed in his mind sporadically throughout the day.

‘Hwairam.’

‘Yes, Siohan.’ He seemed to have answered that way. But it had been a dream.

Lee Doha opened his eyes, a terrible headache pounding, and felt utterly bewildered.

“…Siohan?”

Golden eyes, brimming with amusement, gazed at him before answering.

“Yes, Hwairam.”

Chirp, chirp. Birds sang outside. A nasty headache, a heavy body, fragmented memories, an unexpected morning. It was a typical hangover morning, yet something felt amiss.

He had been drunk many times, but he never had the habit of crawling into strange places.

Lee Doha’s particular drinking habit was to collapse wherever he stood and sleep like the dead, only to wake up in the exact same position. He blinked blankly, then asked again.

“Siohan?”

“Yes, it’s me. Hwairam.”

The gentle voice confirmed it. He wasn’t still drunk and dreaming. It truly was Siohan Orphenos, Lee Doha’s contractor.

Siohan lay sideways on the bed, propping his chin in his hand, gazing at him languidly. His unbound hair still cascaded over his shoulders and neck. The late morning sun streamed in from behind him, shimmering upon his form.

The flickering light enveloped him, swaying languidly as if diffused underwater.

Lee Doha vaguely reached out a hand. Siohan, rather than flinching from the sudden gesture, watched with interest until that hand finally rested on his forehead, at which point he seemed somewhat taken aback.

His hair, like spun threads, softly scattered beneath Lee Doha’s hand. After pressing his hand firmly against Siohan’s smooth forehead, Lee Doha let it fall with a thud. Siohan remained frozen, as if turned to stone.

“…No fever.”

Lee Doha mumbled, still half-asleep. His vision was still swimming, and a hazy fog clouded his mind. The lingering scent of alcohol rose in his throat, making his stomach churn.

“Ugh…” Lee Doha groaned, pressing a hand to his own forehead. He grumbled to himself that *he* seemed to be the one with a fever, then briefly opened his eyes.

Siohan was still in the same position, merely blinking. He looked utterly dumbfounded.

It was the first time Lee Doha had seen such an expression, and he let out a chuckle. Siohan truly was incredibly handsome. What was it Kim Yoon-hye had said? ‘Can you kiss a guy when you’re drunk?’ ‘Oh, totally. Super possible.’ She had claimed he could do it a dozen times over, and she was right, Kim Yoon-hye. Clever Kim Yoon-hye, indeed.

Unaware of his own thoughts, Lee Doha merely kept giggling. A moment later, Siohan spoke.

“…Hwairam. You smell strongly of alcohol.”

“That’s because I drank a lot.”

‘What a statement of the obvious,’ he thought, even as he buried his head, which felt like a ringing bell, into the soft, plush bed. Then, he rolled over.

Since Siohan was lying right next to him, rolling over brought him immediately close.

His forehead touched Siohan’s chest. It smelled cool. He had expected it to be warm. Still, the contact felt pleasant. Lee Doha, half-prone, wriggled like a sluggish grub, burrowing in deeper. Siohan remained utterly still.

Soon, something brushed against the back of his neck. Lee Doha was drifting somewhere between a hangover and sleep. Neat fingertips hesitantly, carefully grazed his hair.

‘It tickles.’ He mumbled, and the touch immediately stopped. Then, it returned, feather-light and gentle, caressing the back of his neck once more.

That wasn’t where it tickled. Nevertheless, as the unexpectedly cool hand softly stroked his neck, which felt warm with a fever, a genuine, silly laugh escaped him.

“Hwairam.”

“Hm?”

“Do you drink well?”

“Maybe one or two bottles…”

“One or two bottles?”

“It’s normal.”

“Do you like it?”

“Why…”

“I didn’t think you particularly enjoyed alcohol. I wondered if… you drank because of something unpleasant.”

“If I feel like it, sometimes; if not, then once in a while. That’s all.”

“Next time, drink with me.”

Lee Doha chuckled. Drink in Oz? The thought had never crossed his mind, but hearing it, he realized it wouldn’t be so bad.

Lee Doha wasn’t one to seek out alcohol, but he wouldn’t refuse it if offered. Imagining himself sitting across from Siohan, exchanging drinks, brought forth a humorous and distinctly Korean image of savory *pajeon* wafting through the air.

Yet, they didn’t have much time; wouldn’t drinking be a waste of it?

‘Just don’t collapse.’ Indeed, how could he even consider drinking with a patient? Lee Doha sighed deeply with concern, reaching to touch his forehead.

He tried to. However, his sleeve was caught on something, preventing his arm from pulling free. ‘Why are these clothes so long?’ Moreover, they had been strangely and uncomfortably wrapped around him for a while now. ‘What’s going on?’

He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, only for something to plop down onto his head.

Siohan, watching Lee Doha wriggle like a newborn baby from close by, kept chuckling. His chest, pressed tightly against Lee Doha, trembled faintly.

‘What’s so funny?’ Lee Doha grumbled, reaching absently to tidy whatever had fallen onto his head, then froze. What his fingertips touched was a headband, quite wide.

As he felt what was attached to the soft headband, memories of the previous night came flooding back, striking him like a slap to the face.

Lee Doha shot upright.

“Ugh!”

“!!!”

Lee Doha’s head slammed squarely into Siohan’s jaw. Siohan, caught off guard mid-chuckle, couldn’t even cry out as he collapsed, clutching his chin.

Lee Doha’s head, which had collided with Siohan’s lean, firm jawbone, was also far from unscathed. For a while, both ‘patients’ huddled on separate sides of the wide bed, groaning and clutching their heads and jaws.

He had threatened to punch him for a while, but not like this. Lee Doha rubbed his throbbing head, then irritably grabbed the headband still tangled in his hand and flung it away haphazardly.

He had no idea what state of mind he’d been in to still be wearing it. His drinking habit was the real culprit: when drunk, he’d fall asleep so still that he seemed dead.

Just then, a faint groan reached his ears. Lee Doha whipped his head around. Siohan was clutching his face, and beneath him lay an adorable bunny headband.

“Hwairam…”

Siohan called out to him pitifully. It seemed that the haphazardly thrown headband, tossed without looking, had struck Siohan’s face. Lee Doha was flustered.

“No, that’s… I didn’t throw it on purpose. And it doesn’t even hurt, does it?”

“My eye…”

Ah. Lee Doha quickly moved towards Siohan. His head was still spinning with residual alcohol, his skull ached, and a mix of embarrassment and urgency made him crawl on his knees.

However, the usual flowing fabric of his clothes got tangled under his knees. His upper body, attempting to move forward, and his lower body, halted, created an awkward imbalance.