Chapter 36: A Rude Awakening

When my eyes fluttered open once more, a familiar ceiling greeted me. It was the same resort ceiling I had grown utterly weary of seeing since my arrival.

I remembered sitting on a bench, weeping wretchedly, but when had I returned? The journey back was a complete blank.

“Ugh…”

The slightest movement sent a splitting agony through my skull. I had foolishly repeated this cycle countless times: a single day of fleeting peace bought with another day of crushing pain.

It was laughable to consider this an improvement. There was a time, not so long ago, when I couldn’t even function without alcohol coursing through my veins daily.

‘I feel like I’m going to vomit.’

I managed to slide off the bed, my body slumping to the floor, and began to crawl. The bathroom, usually just a few steps away, seemed impossibly distant today.

Just a little further, I urged myself, but alas, I had reached my absolute limit.

“Hngh.”

I fought it desperately, but ultimately, with the bathroom door just within reach, I emptied the contents of my stomach. Mercifully, I hadn’t consumed much, so only bitter bile emerged, yet the experience was excruciating.

Once I had somewhat composed myself, I carefully navigated around the sodden floor, heading back towards the bathroom. Just as I laboriously stretched out a hand to grasp the doorknob, the room door swung open, and someone stepped inside.

“……”

“……”

Our eyes met, and both the intruder and I froze solid. A moment passed before their gaze flickered, alternating between my disheveled appearance and the vomit-strewn floor.

“What exactly are you doing?”

Han Jung-woo, the intruder, queried. I parted my lips to respond, but the resurgence of nausea forced my head to drop once more. Apparently, even after expelling so much, there was still more to come.

“Ugh.”

“Good heavens…”

Clicking his tongue at the wretched scene, Han Jung-woo strode forward. Seemingly oblivious to the vomit-soaked floor, he knelt on one knee and gently patted my convulsing back.

“Can you manage to stand?”

I nodded with immense effort, and Han Jung-woo took hold of my shoulder, helping me to my feet. The moment I entered the bathroom, I sank before the toilet, continuing to dry heave.

‘I feel like I’m dying.’

My face was a complete wreck from retching until not even bile would emerge. Finally catching my breath, I lifted my head, and my gaze met Han Jung-woo’s; he was still standing beside me.

“Yoo Seo-jin, even in this state, do you still harbor a desire to drink?”

Han Jung-woo genuinely regarded me with utter disdain. While I had a myriad of retorts bubbling to my lips, I decided to bite my tongue, knowing a verbal sparring match would be interminable.

As I attempted to release my arms from the toilet and rise, my legs refused to cooperate. I tried several more times, but the outcome remained stubbornly unchanged.

“Shall I assist you?”

Han Jung-woo, who had been observing my pathetic state with his arms crossed, asked, feigning benevolence. I pointedly ignored him, clutching the washbasin for support.

‘Just a little more, I can do it.’

I managed to heave my body upright, but the real challenge lay ahead. A single misstep could send me plummeting into a rather intimate encounter with the cold bathroom tiles.

I steadied my breathing and slowly lifted one foot. I successfully took a single step, but no sooner had a wave of relief washed over me than my vision began to tilt precariously sideways.

“Whoa—”

I plunged towards the floor, unable to even utter a scream. Fearing the inevitable impact, I squeezed my eyes shut, yet, strangely, no pain materialized.

‘What was that?’

Puzzled, I cautiously opened my eyes to find Han Jung-woo’s face directly before mine. Only then, belatedly noticing the large hand gripping my shoulder and his firm arm, did I realize he had caught me from my fall.

“I offered my help, but you’re so stubborn.”

I knew I should express gratitude for his timely intervention, but his gaze, so overtly condescending, glued my lips together, refusing to utter a single word.

“Do you not know how to say ‘thank you’?”

He chided me, as if I were being utterly insolent. When I defiantly whipped my head away, his eyes narrowed, and he murmured something under his breath, almost to himself.

“Then, I suppose I can let go.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than Han Jung-woo relaxed his hold. While he didn’t entirely release me—perhaps it was merely a scare tactic—a wave of terror instantly washed over me.

“Th-thank you!”

My booming expression of gratitude, loud enough to reverberate through the bathroom, prompted Han Jung-woo to burst into laughter. I yearned to strike that smug, satisfied grin from his face, but alas, I lacked the strength.

“What exactly are you thankful for?”

I had already said ‘thank you’—what more could he possibly want? Though resentment simmered within me, my precarious situation left me no choice but to utter the words Han Jung-woo desired.

“For catching me when I nearly fell.”

“Hmm, it’s good that you understand.”

Having extracted all the desired answers, Han Jung-woo finally helped me stand upright. Only after considerable struggle, when my feet were planted firmly on the floor, did my wildly thrumming heart begin to settle.

I was reminded of a dreadful amusement park ride I’d been forced onto once for a variety show, part of a drama promotion. That contraption that shot skyward only to plummet suddenly—I couldn’t recall its name, but it had been an absolutely harrowing experience.

“You can stand on your own now, yes?”

“…Yes.”

He let out a soft chuckle and lightly patted my head. It was as if he were commending me merely for the feat of standing unaided.

“Alright, take your time washing up and then come out. I’ll be right outside, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

The moment the door clicked shut, I vigorously ran my hand through the hair Han Jung-woo had just touched. Inwardly, I unleashed a torrent of curses, yet I dared not utter them aloud. The bathroom door, after all, was thinner than it appeared.

‘First, I should wash.’

Forcing my anger down, I stripped off my soiled clothes. Standing beneath the cascade of water, I felt the last vestiges of my intoxication completely dissipate.

Feeling considerably refreshed, I finished my shower and reached for a gown, but something felt amiss. My gaze swept around, and I noticed several unfamiliar objects scattered within the otherwise familiar bathroom.

‘Had I put these here myself?’

Perplexed, I tilted my head, yet continued to don the gown. Since I rarely remembered trivial details, I quickly dismissed the unfamiliar items, assuming I must have simply left them there and forgotten.

Shaking my damp hair, I opened the door, only to find Han Jung-woo waiting directly outside, our eyes locking. He extended a hand, a silent invitation to approach, but I remained rooted to the spot.

“Come here.”

When I failed to move despite his vocal command, Han Jung-woo exhaled a terse sigh and drew closer. He then deftly plucked the towel from my grasp, intending to dry my damp hair.

“I can do it myse—”

“Ssssh.”

Han Jung-woo’s hand, cutting off my words, reached through the towel draped over my head. His touch, gently massaging my scalp and tousling my hair, felt unnervingly familiar.

As if he had dried someone’s hair countless times before.

“Are you no longer dyeing your hair?”

“There’s simply no compelling reason to anymore.”

I had once dyed my jet-black hair a brighter shade, a desperate attempt to not forget that I was Yoo Joon-hee. But I had ceased doing so, realizing the gesture was utterly meaningless now.

“The brighter shade suited you quite well, actually. A shame.”

Han Jung-woo, having murmured to himself, set the damp towel aside. As the temporary curtain obscuring my vision vanished, I was forced to meet his gaze, now startlingly close.

“The rest can likely be dried with a hairdryer.”

There were limits to what a towel could achieve, so a hairdryer was indeed necessary for the remainder. Though, admittedly, my hair would eventually air-dry on its own.

Holding the damp towel, he turned back towards the bathroom, seemingly intending to tidy up. I reached out and caught him before he could distance himself. When he turned back, surprised, I finally voiced the question that had been simmering on my tongue.

“Why do you keep entering other people’s rooms without permission?”

“…Who?”

He knitted his brows, countering my question with one of his own. Was he truly ignorant, or merely feigning it?

“Is there anyone else here besides you, Han Jung-woo?”

“This is my room, though?”

His brazen reply left me speechless. Was it truly so difficult to observe basic courtesy? Shaking off my incredulous hand, Han Jung-woo strode into the bathroom and began rummaging through a drawer.

Following his unauthorized entry with a casual search through another’s belongings—Han Jung-woo’s impudence knew no bounds.

“What are you doing n—”

“Is this yours, Yoo Seo-jin?”

The object Han Jung-woo pulled from the drawer was a razor. I narrowed my eyes at the unfamiliar item. Even on a second glance, it was undeniably a razor.

Having naturally sparse body hair, I had used a razor only a handful of times in my life. And now, as an Omega, I certainly had no need for one.

‘That can’t be right.’

A sense of unease settled over me, and I surveyed my surroundings once more. It was then that the unfamiliar objects scattered throughout the room began to register, one by one.

I had forgotten. All the resort rooms looked remarkably similar.

“Han Jung-woo, that is—”

“I brought a drunk man lying on a bench, put him to bed, and looked after him, and instead of gratitude, he suspects me.”

His muttering, clearly intended for my ears, caused the fleeting spark of apology within me to instantly extinguish. They say a single word can repay a thousand debts, but Han Jung-woo always did the opposite.

He was the kind of person whose mouth would float to the surface even if he drowned.

“Do you remember me bringing you here, Yoo Seo-jin?”

I vaguely recalled talking to Han Jung-woo on the phone, but that was all. Even the content of our conversation was hazy, so how could I possibly remember him coming to pick me up?

I shook my head, and Han Jung-woo let out a small chuckle, as if he had expected as much. I wanted to challenge him, to ask why he always laughed as if belittling me, but I refrained. It would be a pointless war of attrition.

Han Jung-woo, who had been staring intently at my silence, eventually put the razor back in its place and began tidying the disheveled bathroom. Only the clattering sounds echoed through the quiet room.

‘My head aches.’

Whether it was the hangover returning, one I thought the shower had washed away, or simply Han Jung-woo’s presence, my head throbbed relentlessly.

Though, the latter was highly probable.

‘First, I need to get my clothes.’

Knowing this wasn’t my room, there was no reason to linger. I reached for the clothes I’d shed before showering, intending to leave, but Han Jung-woo, who had emerged from the bathroom, blocked my path.

I was too drained for another argument and simply wished for Han Jung-woo to let me pass quietly, but of course, his personality wouldn’t allow it.

“Move.”

I raised a weak arm and tried to push Han Jung-woo, but predictably, he didn’t budge. I was about to unleash the surge of anger building within me when Han Jung-woo took a step closer and spoke first.

“Who is this ‘Jung’ person?”