Chapter 23: The Color of Joy and the Chill of Crisis

The moments of separation had been agony, pushing his body to its absolute limits until he was on the brink of death. But when he finally met Yunhwan again, Seonghye found, to his own surprise, that he was ready to accept everything about the man.

At times, the sensory input was so overwhelming it made him nauseous, yet every time he saw Yunhwan—looking at him with that oblivious, innocent face—his racing nerves found their way back to reason.

‘I heard you imprinted on me, Seonghye. I’m a Beta, so I don’t truly understand how hard or painful it is for you. But Seonghye, I can stay by your side and help you so you aren’t in pain anymore.’

Yunhwan seemed to think that simply being there would settle everything, but Seonghye’s thoughts were entirely different.

He wondered what kind of expression Yunhwan would make if he knew that Seonghye lingered outside his bedroom door every night. Or that sometimes, unable to resist the impulse, he stood over Yunhwan’s bed while he slept.

Would the moment ever come when Kwon Yunhwan realized the thin, dangerous tightrope Seonghye walked between reason and impulse every day? If that moment arrived, would it mean Min Seonghye had finally swallowed him whole?

Seonghye intentionally made noise as he entered the kitchen. Yunhwan, busy setting the table, turned around.

“You’re here?”

Seeing those light brown eyes directed at him as usual, a sense of satisfying fullness rose in Seonghye. He nodded with a smile, and Yunhwan gave an awkward smile in return, pulling out a chair.

“Why did you prepare this alone? We should have done it together.”

“No, it didn’t take long.”

“I’ll do the dishes then. Please, sit down, Hyung.”

At the soft, gentle voice, Yunhwan sat across from him.

“Manager Park won’t be dropping by unannounced like that anymore.”

“Ah…”

“Are you okay? He just showed up without calling.”

At the tender concern, Yunhwan shook his head quietly. “I was already awake because I heard noises outside.” He gave a small shrug as if it were nothing.

As Yunhwan’s trembling lashes lowered again, Seonghye raised an eyebrow. Living together, he had realized Yunhwan was remarkably sensitive to his surroundings—more agile and observant than most ordinary people. He noticed Seonghye’s movements or discomfort even more keenly than Manager Park, a professional, ever could.

Unlike Seonghye, who instinctively sensed Yunhwan’s state through the imprint, Yunhwan seemed to read people like a seasoned expert.

Seonghye’s gaze moved slowly over Yunhwan as the latter ate with his head down. He took in the well-proportioned frame, the lean muscles, and the sun-kissed skin. For someone who supposedly just farmed in the countryside, his posture—whether sitting or standing—was impeccably straight. He was excessively polite to everyone and his movements were devoid of wasted energy. It suggested he had belonged to a specific organization or held a job that required immense responsibility.

Of course, these were things Seonghye could learn in due time; for now, he was content to guess.

“It’s okay. I’m sure the Manager was just worried about you.”

“Even so, it’s not normal to barge into a house where two men live.”

“…….”

“Who knows what might have been happening.”

Yunhwan shook his head with an “I can’t deal with you” expression. “I get it, so just eat.”

He gestured for him to start. As Seonghye picked up his spoon, Yunhwan began his meal. Seonghye’s eyes darkened as he tracked Yunhwan’s movements. He wondered why Yunhwan had chosen to stay—accepting the kindness, the care, and even the sudden change in environment.

Seonghye himself was bound by the blind loyalty of the imprint, but Yunhwan had no such reason. Even if money had changed hands with Manager Park, Yunhwan’s every action was thoughtful—bordering on overly cautious.

When Seonghye stopped eating just to stare, Yunhwan eventually paused his spoon too. He looked up, and as concern seeped into his warm, brown eyes, Seonghye’s Adam’s apple bobbed heavily.

Only when Seonghye resumed eating did relief return to Yunhwan’s gaze. Seeing that, Seonghye couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“…?”

While Yunhwan looked on in confusion, Seonghye covered his mouth to stifle the laughter and spoke.

“I don’t know the reason, but I know one thing for sure.”

You are weak for me.

Whether that was because of the accident remained to be seen. Hiding his deep thoughts, Seonghye placed his palm over Yunhwan’s hand on the table. Before Yunhwan could pull away, Seonghye added in a quiet voice:

“I spoke with the doctor yesterday.”

“You talked to Junseong?”

Seonghye nodded. He had heard that his pheromone levels, which had been stagnant, had recently begun to show stable readings—a green light for his recovery. The news had spread like wildfire to Chairman Min in Seoul, but Seonghye was more curious about Yunhwan’s reaction than his father’s.

He wanted to be the one to tell him. He had realized lately that the range of emotions Yunhwan showed him was extremely limited, and he didn’t like it. He had tasted enough worry and kindness; he was thirsty for something else.

“I need to hear the details in person, but he said the treatment is starting to work.”

“Really?”

A bright smile instantly broke across Yunhwan’s face. The hand beneath Seonghye’s flinched and twitched with excitement.

“Junseong said that? The treatment is working?”

Yunhwan leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Seonghye subconsciously bit his lip at the proximity and the radiant smile. Yunhwan, who seemed wrapped in the summer sun, smelled like the summer fruit trees of this season.

And up close, Yunhwan had a face Seonghye hadn’t fully discovered yet. Neat eyebrows, eyes wet with joy, and a smile full of goodwill. As all these things poured over him, Seonghye’s face flushed red, like someone who had stood under the sun for too long.

He bit his lip hard and then released it, answering, “…Yes.”

“Wow—”

It was the first time Seonghye had seen such a smile. It was as if he were a child opening his eyes to the world for the first time; vivid colors bled into his vision. The canvas he was looking at was so clear and beautiful that time seemed to stop.

But in that moment of awakening to these new colors, as delight flashed across Yunhwan’s face, a sudden chill raced down Seonghye’s spine.

…What is this?

His eyes, usually unshakeable, froze. The air around them turned cold in an instant.

“…….”

Seonghye licked his dry lips and stared at Yunhwan. Since the imprint, his senses had become synchronized with Yunhwan’s emotions and his own instincts. Normally, he should have felt satisfaction reflecting Yunhwan’s joy, but right now, he felt nothing but a sense of crisis.

‘What is happening?’

An unknown anxiety took hold of him. Sensing the silence, Yunhwan looked at him with worry. “Seonghye, what’s wrong?” The words seemed to spin around before entering his ears.

After a long pause, Seonghye slowly spoke.

“The treatment going well… is a good thing, right?”

“Of course! You have to get treated and find your memories soon. I told you I’d help.”

Yunhwan nodded vigorously. Then, the hand that had been lying submissively under Seonghye’s palm flipped over and firmly interlaced their fingers.

Seonghye froze at the sudden warmth.

“You have to get better. So you aren’t in pain anymore.”

Following the voice, Seonghye lowered his head and looked at their joined hands. Feeling the heat spreading through his palm, he reflexively touched his own lips.

“…Ah.”

He nodded slowly. Unfelt by Yunhwan, Seonghye’s pheromones thickened, heavily surrounding the space. His gaze fixed obsessively on the hand holding his.

But that warmth, which had made his hand tingle, vanished as soon as Yunhwan pulled back.

“…….”

Looking down at his empty hand, Seonghye swallowed hard. It was strange. All that had happened was that the fingertips that usually hesitated had finally pushed between his own—yet he felt something overflowing in his chest.