Chapter 19: The Debtor’s Devotion

Three years was enough; it was time for him to return. While he was even a year younger, he needed to find his place again. His grandmother’s eyes narrowed sharply as she chewed her apple.

“Shouldn’t you be heading back up to the city soon?”

As she tossed the remark out indifferently, the surrounding elders chimed in, nodding in agreement. Surrounded by the collective concern and pointed stares of his grandmother and her friends, Yunhwan felt himself shrinking.

“Hyung?”

At that moment, the eyes of the wrinkled elders moved in unison toward the space behind Yunhwan, as if by prior arrangement.

Following their collective gaze, Yunhwan’s face instantly drained of color. He whipped his head around to find Seonghye standing right behind him. His ivory-toned face, looking exceptionally radiant today, slowly leaned closer to Yunhwan. Pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down, Seonghye spoke in a low voice.

“I waited, but you didn’t come.”

He tilted his head slightly and whispered softly, so only Yunhwan could hear.

“I thought you had gone somewhere… without me.”

After sitting down, Seonghye greeted the elders and quietly scanned the multi-patient room with calm eyes. His delicate features held a hint of curiosity and observation, but no one dared to criticize him. Instead, as if by habit, they all began praising his handsome face.

Through it all, Min Seonghye responded to every question with a voice as soft and approachable as spring sunshine.

“Is this Yunhwan’s friend, or a younger brother? He has the face of a younger brother.”

“I’m his younger brother.”

The corners of his long eyes curved into a frequent smile today. Yunhwan’s grandmother stared at that flawless, milky-white face and began to dig into the relationship between her grandson and this stranger.

“How did you two meet? When Yunhwan was in Seoul? Or here in the country?”

“We met at a hospital.”

Her eyes widened as she looked between the two.

“A hospital?”

Watching the conversation with bated breath, Yunhwan squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. To a grandmother already intensely curious about his private life, Seonghye’s answer was the perfect fuel for more questions.

“Were you sick too? Why would you meet at a hospital?”

Seonghye looked at Yunhwan sitting beside him and gave a small nod.

“I was very sick, and Hyung nursed me.”

“…Nursed you?”

The grandmother’s gaze turned toward Yunhwan with a meaningful glint. It seemed her grandson, whom she thought was just stuck in the country obsessed with aronia or whatever, was actually out doing good deeds for others. As she looked at Yunhwan with a proud expression, Seonghye added shamelessly:

“Yes. He stayed by my side while I was hurting.”

Seonghye’s gaze fixed on Yunhwan.

“Hyung is my savior.”

“No, no, that’s not it!”

Yunhwan, his face flushing red, cut in to correct the facts. “It wasn’t like that… he was just in a lot of pain, so I gave him some… encouragement and support. I didn’t do anything to be called a savior, Grandmother.”

His eyelids fluttered nervously. Meanwhile, his memory faithfully recalled that day. He had merely told the Seonghye hiding behind the curtain not to stay there and to come out for his exam—that was all. Savior? Had he forgotten that he got hurt, lost his memory, and even imprinted because of Yunhwan?

When Yunhwan subtly nudged Seonghye’s elbow, a low chuckle escaped the man.

The grandmother, looking back and forth at the two, replied slyly, “If he says you’re his savior, what can you do? Just accept it.”

She didn’t stop there; she pressed a slice of apple into Seonghye’s hand. There was no fork, so she handed it over by hand, but Min Seonghye didn’t mind and politely accepted the fruit.

“And what should one do for a savior?”

At the grandmother’s question, Yunhwan finally couldn’t take it; he pressed a hand to his forehead and hung his head. Seonghye watched the back of Yunhwan’s bowed head for a moment before answering gently.

“For a savior…”

“Yes?”

“I must repay the kindness.”

Yunhwan’s shoulders slumped further. Just then, a sweet scent wafted in front of his bowed face. A slice of apple gently tapped against his closed lips, pushing its way in. Startled, he took a bite, and a voice full of satisfaction rang out clearly above his head.

“And I have to be very obedient, too.”

Leaving the ward, the two headed to the payment counter on the first floor instead of going straight to the parking lot. Fortunately, there wasn’t much of a wait.

“Just wait a second. I’ll pay and be right back.”

Yunhwan looked back and forth between the rapidly changing numbers on the display and Seonghye sitting in the waiting area. Since it was almost his turn, his hands were busy pulling his card from his wallet. Seonghye nodded readily and watched Yunhwan’s back as soon as he turned away.

His narrowed eyes and sharp pupils measured the distance between him and Yunhwan. He sat perfectly upright, not leaning against the backrest, looking like a loyal beast waiting for its master.

Seonghye licked his dry lips with his tongue, his eyes obsessively chasing Yunhwan.

Earlier, the distance between the ward and the lobby had been too far. The same went for Yunhwan’s absence. Yunhwan wouldn’t feel anything, but for Seonghye—whose very breath tightened and loosened multiple times a day based on Yunhwan’s presence—that absence triggered emotions too intense to bear.

“…….”

Every nerve in his mind was poured ceaselessly toward one person.

“Kwon Yunhwan.”

A distance where a call wouldn’t be heard; a position where the person with their back turned could never see him. Seonghye tilted his head back, his vision filled with the plain white ceiling.

“…….”

Soon, Min Seonghye rose silently from his seat. Ever since meeting Yunhwan, his goal had always been clear. He walked toward the man in the worn red shirt.

“…?”

But as he got closer to Yunhwan, instead of feeling relief, unpleasant sensations began to spread rapidly through his body. Seonghye’s fingertips reflexively grabbed his own bare neck.

His pupils, suddenly cold, fixed on a single point. His gaze, laced with a chilling frost, pierced through Yunhwan toward a man sitting in front of him. Having identified the source, Seonghye’s lips parted slightly.

A nauseating stench that Yunhwan could never smell or feel was faintly emanating from the man across from him. Seonghye’s lightless pupils stared at the man. He just stared.

The man sitting in front of Yunhwan—the counter clerk—dropped the business card he was pulling out onto the floor. Seonghye watched the fallen card and the man who suddenly huddled his body in a defensive posture. When the man abruptly began to groan in pain, a confused Yunhwan turned to call for help from nearby staff.

“Hyung.”

Yunhwan looked back. Seonghye was already behind him, wrapping an arm around Yunhwan’s waist.

“Are you done?”

“Uh, yeah… it’s done, but—”

Mid-answer, Yunhwan looked back at the clerk. A coworker noticed the man’s state and supported him. The man was dripping with cold sweat, stealing glances toward where Seonghye stood. Yunhwan cast a worried look at him.

“If it’s done, let’s go.”

At Seonghye’s low voice, Yunhwan turned to look at him. The eyes meeting his were as calm and deep as a lake. As if he had truly been waiting patiently as promised, his calm expression exuded a warm, gentle energy toward Yunhwan.

That afternoon, back home after finishing all their errands.

After finishing the meal and cleaning up as usual, it was time for a breather. Unless something special happened, Yunhwan and Seonghye spent most of their time in their own spaces. However, there was one unwritten rule they had to follow: they could not be more than a certain distance apart.

Because they didn’t know what might happen to Seonghye if they were separated again, a natural restriction had formed on their range of activity. More accurately, since Seonghye never intended to leave Yunhwan, Yunhwan was the only one who had to be careful.

Yunhwan sometimes felt stifled living a life that revolved only around the house and the hospital, putting his farming aside, but it was bearable for the sake of Seonghye’s treatment. To Yunhwan’s eyes, Seonghye also seemed to have adapted reasonably well to life here.

After spending a long time in their respective rooms, Yunhwan stood up as the clock on the wall neared midnight. Crossing the living room between the rooms, he headed for Seonghye’s bedroom. It had originally been his own room, but it was now the space where Seonghye lived.

Before he could even knock on the door, permission was granted: “Come in.” His ears were so sensitive that no matter how much Yunhwan tried to muffle his footsteps, Seonghye never missed them.

The old door creaked open, and the yellow light from the bedside lamp spilled over Yunhwan’s feet.

“Hyung.”

He heard his name from the bed right next to the door. Seonghye, who had been leaning against the headboard reading, closed his book and sat up.