Chapter 28: The Night That Never Was

Yoonwoo trudged home, his thoughts heavy and aimless. He had suspected his carefully built ‘stone bridge’ was nothing more than a shoddy construction, and now he knew why: Yeon-chae already liked someone else.

He wished he had known sooner, wished he had avoided this heartache. He’d only truly understood the extent of his mistaken assumptions after drinking the ‘kimchi soup’ of reality. The bowl he’d finally swallowed after a year was so sour it brought tears to his eyes.

The one silver lining was that Yoonwoo had already finished demolishing that ‘stone bridge’ over the past winter. If only last night could be erased, he could easily return to how things were before.

The best course of action was to revert to their old relationship, where he and Yeon-chae were simply senior and junior, occasionally crossing paths.

Yoonwoo pressed his palm firmly against his left chest. The wound that had slowly healed over the winter no longer hurt as much as he’d expected. It merely left a bitter taste.

For several days after, Yoonwoo did his utmost to avoid Yeon-chae.

He finally came face-to-face with Yeon-chae in a lecture hall, nearly a week after the fateful freshman welcoming party. Until then, he had been consistently skipping classes, feigning illness.

Even for lectures he didn’t share with Yeon-chae, he couldn’t bring himself to attend, fearing they might cross paths. In truth, his physical condition hadn’t been good either.

However, for Yoonwoo, a person thoroughly armed with diligence, every skipped lecture felt like a waste of tuition, burning him from the inside.

Moreover, he couldn’t keep avoiding Yeon-chae indefinitely. Unable to bear any more absences, Yoonwoo forced himself to believe that Yeon-chae wouldn’t remember that night.

He headed to school feeling as if he were being led to the slaughterhouse.

“Senior.”

All Yoonwoo’s efforts to avoid Yeon-chae proved futile. No sooner had he settled into a back corner of the lecture hall than Yeon-chae abruptly approached him.

His heart throbbed, beating so loudly he worried Yeon-chae might hear it.

Yoonwoo slowly, stiffly, raised his head to look up at Yeon-chae. Their eyes met, and Yeon-chae’s pupils wavered significantly before he quickly averted his gaze.

It was a relief, as Yoonwoo had been desperate to look away first.

Yeon-chae hesitated for a long moment, then finally parted his lips. His voice was low, as if submerged in water.

“Why have you been skipping classes?”

“Oh? Uh, m-my body wasn’t feeling so good.”

Yoonwoo was too flustered to assess Yeon-chae’s condition. His heart pounded so breathlessly it felt sore, leaving him barely able to catch his breath and stammer out a reply.

This was an unexpected turn of events. Yeon-chae hadn’t contacted him at all over the past week, leading Yoonwoo to believe he either didn’t remember the incident or, like Yoonwoo, wished to forget it.

For Yeon-chae to approach him first and inquire about his well-being was entirely unforeseen. Consequently, Yoonwoo failed to notice the faint trembling at the tips of Yeon-chae’s fingers, which were hanging limply as he bowed his head.

“Were you very ill…? No… are you feeling better now?”

“Uh… yeah, I’m fine, I guess.”

‘Why isn’t he leaving?’ Yoonwoo struggled to maintain a calm facade, but sweat beaded on his clenched palms.

Swallowing dryly, he finally stole a glance at Yeon-chae.

“That’s a relief. I thought you were really sick since you kept missing classes.”

Yet, as Yeon-chae spoke, his complexion was far paler than Yoonwoo’s. Yoonwoo, surprised, slowly raised his head and scrutinized him.

Yeon-chae’s once radiant white cheeks were now gaunt, and dark shadows underscored his eyes. His light-colored pupils flickered aimlessly, betraying his distress.

The face that had always been bright and beautiful now looked sorrowful, almost desolate.

Yoonwoo stared at Yeon-chae intently for a moment before his lips parted in a daze.

“I’m fine… You look like you’re the one who’s sick.”

‘What happened to him in just a week…?’

“I was a bit sick too.”

As if sensing Yoonwoo’s gaze, Yeon-chae rubbed his cheek and replied softly. Only then did Yoonwoo recall that Yeon-chae had been in rut, and he let out a sigh-like groan of “Ah.”

Once an Alpha’s rut cycle began, it wouldn’t easily end within a few days. Although spending a night with Yoonwoo had temporarily quelled the heat of the rut, the pain must have resumed shortly after.

He should have at least found some suppressants for him. His panicked, bewildered escape now filled him with a tinge of regret.

While he had been consumed by a myriad of complex emotions over the past week, seeing Yeon-chae’s pale, gaunt face now filled him with pity.

Come to think of it, Yeon-chae was blameless. From the very beginning, Yoonwoo had been the only one caught in a misunderstanding. Furthermore…

‘Given how he’s acting, it seems he doesn’t remember.’

It was a relief for Yoonwoo, who had hidden at home for a week, terrified of the days he would have to face Yeon-chae. The feelings that had begun to blossom were already cut down before they could become buds.

If Yeon-chae had forgotten that night, it would be much easier to return to their previous dynamic.

Thinking this, the tension in his stiff shoulders eased slightly. The taste in his mouth was a little bitter, but this was the best possible happy ending.

“Were you very sick? You should have rested more.”

His tone softened, filled with concern as he asked again. Yeon-chae flinched, his eyes widening in surprise.

The unexpected reaction sent a fresh wave of tension through Yoonwoo.

‘Did he not forget? Does he remember?’

“Senior, by any chance…”

“Huh? What, why, why?”

In his panic, Yoonwoo stammered. Yeon-chae’s eyes, fixed intently on him, were a shade darker and deeper than usual.

Yeon-chae hesitated for a moment, his lips parting slightly. That brief instant stretched into an eternity. Yoonwoo felt so breathless, as if he might collapse.

Finally, Yeon-chae seemed to make up his mind, abruptly lifting his head. His expression, as he looked directly at Yoonwoo, was somehow resolute.

Yoonwoo, puzzled by such gravity, widened his eyes and stared back at Yeon-chae.

“Last week, after the freshman welcoming party… you came to my place, Senior.”

“Uh. Right, I did.”

Yeon-chae had brought up the very topic Yoonwoo desperately wanted to avoid. Yoonwoo tried to calm his pounding heart, grumbling internally.

‘I told myself that night was a dream. Why does he keep trying to remember it…?’

“I remember you went to the bathroom to shower after we got to my place… and you asked for clothes to change into, so I gave you my pajamas…”

Yeon-chae’s voice trailed off slowly. It sounded like he was recounting the period when Yoonwoo had blacked out, from being carried by Yeon-chae until he woke up in the officetel bed.

When Yoonwoo had come to that day, he was already wearing fluffy microfiber pajamas adorned with teddy bears. The pants were loose, and the sleeves were too long, making them difficult to manage.

He had worried that Yeon-chae had changed him, but it seemed he had fortunately changed into them himself after showering.

“So I didn’t have anything to wear, and I just… took off my clothes and lay down.”

“Hey, you, you, you were wearing pants!”

Yoonwoo flinched, then shouted urgently.

Yeon-chae had been wearing sweatpants, and he had only taken those off much later, once things had escalated. It would be one thing if he didn’t remember at all, but remembering it inaccurately felt unfair.

Yoonwoo hadn’t told him to take them off.

As Yoonwoo reacted with such sensitivity, Yeon-chae’s eyes widened. Their gazes slowly exchanged, scrutinizing each other as if in an assessment.

Yeon-chae merely blinked for a long time, unable to utter a word. His long, dark eyelashes trembled delicately. Yeon-chae finally spoke slowly.

“Do you remember?”

Cold sweat trickled down Yoonwoo’s back.

“Do you…?”

Yoonwoo merely parted his lips, barely managing to speak, his words sounding like a choked groan.

Yeon-chae’s already pale face completely drained of color. As Yeon-chae grew increasingly reflective, Yoonwoo, too, felt suffocated.

He wished Yeon-chae would just tell him openly what and how much he remembered. Yoonwoo was terrible at these kinds of probing conversations.

The tense atmosphere lingered for a long while. It was only when Yoonwoo started to feel breathless that Yeon-chae’s lips trembled.

He finally spoke.

“I… I saw you coming out of the bathroom, Senior… but when I briefly woke up in the morning, you weren’t there…”

“Uh… huh?”

“That day, I suddenly had a high fever, so I… I don’t remember much… Were you next to me the whole time?”

Yeon-chae’s expression was anxious and desperate. His flushed cheeks looked as though a poke might bring him to tears.

His voice sounded choked, and he spoke very slowly, with great effort.

“Do you… by any chance… remember if I… made any mistakes… that day…?”

Yoonwoo’s lips parted uselessly; he didn’t know how to respond. He needed to focus, but Yeon-chae’s desolate face kept clouding his mind.

Yoonwoo struggled to keep his eyes steady.

It seemed clear that Yeon-chae didn’t remember the events of that day precisely.

If he could just gloss over it appropriately, the incident could be buried completely. He had to play this well.

Yoonwoo chewed on his lower lip before pulling up the corners of his mouth into a forced smile.

“I-I was too drunk that day, so I don’t really remember either. I showered? I just, uh, thought I slept the whole time…”

“You don’t remember…?”

Yeon-chae seemed a little surprised. A faint glimmer passed through his dark, sunken eyes.

Yoonwoo nodded frantically.

“Yeah, yeah. After you carried me, I woke up, and you were sound asleep. I just went straight home so I wouldn’t wake you…

My hangover had cleared, and I felt more comfortable sleeping at my own place. D-don’t you remember? I even said goodbye before I left.”

“…Is that so?”

“Yeah, of course. I even said, ‘Have good dreams.’ You really don’t remember?”

What he had actually said was, ‘This is all just a dream.’ His mouth felt parched from trying to bluff his way through.

“Then…”

Yeon-chae, looking bewildered, thoughtfully touched the corner of his mouth. Those soft lips, which had touched Yoonwoo’s own that night.

The image of Yeon-chae, feverish and devouring Yoonwoo’s lips, flashed before him. A blush rose on Yoonwoo’s cheeks.

“You slept at my place that day, and you don’t remember anything after that…”

“Uh? Yeah, yeah, that’s right. I must have been really drunk. How could I not even remember showering…? Haha…”

Yoonwoo was terrible at lying, but it was true he didn’t remember showering. By extracting only the factual parts and blending them with the lies he wanted Yeon-chae to believe, he managed to stammer but not falter.

Given Yeon-chae’s persistent questions about that night, Yoonwoo had worried he might remember something after all. Fortunately, Yeon-chae seemed to believe his words.

A faint light began to seep into Yeon-chae’s previously dark expression. Had he perhaps convinced himself it was just a dream? Yoonwoo asked, as if seeking confirmation.

“W-what? Did you have some kind of bad dream?”

“A dream… Yes, was it a dream…? I suppose so.”

Yeon-chae’s voice trailed off, and he let his head drop.

Only then did Yoonwoo feel certain that Yeon-chae didn’t remember. Relief washed over him, and he smiled brightly, patting Yeon-chae’s arm.

Yeon-chae flinched, startled, and looked at Yoonwoo.

“Dreams, no matter how vivid, usually fade away once you wake up, you know.”

“Yes… that’s right.”

“Just forget about it. It was probably nothing. Are you not hurting anywhere now? Are you completely fine?”

“Yes. R-r… no, it was just a cold. I’m all better now.”

Yoonwoo clearly heard the stammered ‘rut,’ but he pretended not to notice. Just then, the professor entered the lecture hall.

Feeling much better, Yoonwoo happily opened his textbook, picturing a flower garden in his mind. The anxiety that had plagued him for a week, fearing awkwardness with Yeon-chae, vanished as if by magic.

He thought he should have just contacted him sooner instead of worrying needlessly.

And just like that, the events of that night ceased to exist.