Chapter 52: A Morning Without Restraints

“Mm….”

Yoo Hee-ro twisted uncomfortably in his sleep, letting out a pained groan. His brows were tightly knit, as though he was suffering. Sung Ji-woo looked over his body in concern.

Upon closer inspection, he was covered in cold sweat. Wondering if he was having a nightmare, Ji-woo reached out to wake him—when something on Hee-ro’s wrist caught his eye.

“…A restraining cuff?”

The heavy metal bound tightly around his wrist was unmistakably a suppression shackle. Something used only on ability users who’d committed crimes or had a risk of going berserk.

Ji-woo momentarily imagined all kinds of scenarios—but quickly let out a sigh of relief as he remembered an obvious fact.

‘Ah. Right. He returned today.’

He had completely forgotten because Hee-ro had acted as if nothing had happened.

‘No, but the ceremony ended.’

There was no reason for Hee-ro to keep wearing it after the reinstatement ceremony. Ji-woo frowned—then snorted.

‘Did he just… forget to take it off and come straight here?’

These shackles emitted a faint electrical current that sensitive people found itchy or even painful. Ji-woo couldn’t feel it at all, but Hee-ro clearly could; he kept scratching around the cuff obsessively.

He’d scratched so much the skin around it had swelled red. Ji-woo clicked his tongue sympathetically.

“Mm… ugh…”

‘Guess I should take it off.’

Normally, ability users couldn’t remove these on their own, and most never learned how. But Ji-woo was an exception.

He’d recently been consulted for a shackle manufacturing project and had learned the structure and operating mechanism. Fetching some simple tools, he easily disabled the lock. The heavy metal thudded onto the floor.

“Wow, they used such a primitive, heavy one.”

He’d heard the newer models were lighter and more durable. The one on Hee-ro was practically something you’d slap on a prisoner.

Ji-woo dropped the thing to the floor in disgust. Only then did Hee-ro’s expression relax.

His wrist, however, was bruised and swollen. Ji-woo wrapped an ice pack in a towel and tied it gently around the affected area. It was clumsily done, but functional.

‘And he still doesn’t wake up through all this.’

Pilgrim, who was sensitive to sound, had been awake for ages and was curiously sniffing at things, but Hee-ro slept soundly, not resisting Ji-woo’s touch at all.

Lying back down, Ji-woo recalled all the articles and posts he’d seen.

‘I didn’t know Hee-ro had been looking for me that desperately. I thought he was just curious if he knew someone I knew…’

It turned out Lee Hye-rin had been right—Hee-ro had been waiting for him. If Ji-woo had known, he might’ve gone to the reinstatement ceremony after all.

He’d assumed Hee-ro hadn’t replied to his letters because it was bothersome or because circumstances made it difficult. Ji-woo knew how life inside the Gate was; he hadn’t been upset about the lack of replies.

He hadn’t expected any in the first place. But to think the Hunter Association had archived all the letters Hee-ro wrote…

‘Should I go read them now?’

It felt pointless at this point, but ignoring letters written for him felt discourteous.

Ji-woo resolved to visit and read them when he had time. By then, the sun was already peeking above the horizon.

Yoo Hee-ro stretched, yawning as he sat up. Even with his eyes open, he still felt foggy—proof he’d slept deeper than he had in years.

He laughed softly at his own defenselessness. Then he looked at Ji-woo, still fast asleep beside him.

It was his first morning in three years. Sunlight streaming through a window felt strange. Miraculous, even.

“Good morning.”

He whispered softly so as not to wake Ji-woo, then rose. Something heavy and damp fell to the floor with a soft thud.

‘What’s this?’

At his feet lay a soggy towel and a melted ice pack. And his wrist—stained violet.

The shackle that had been cutting into him before he fell asleep was gone.

It wasn’t hard to guess who had removed it. He stared at the spot for a moment, then scrubbed his face with both hands.

“Hyung, you’re really a bad person, you know? A really bad one…”

Words not meant to be heard. He gathered the towel and ice pack and stood.

Past noon. Ji-woo finally woke up, his body warm and heavy, like he could sleep several more hours.

The sky was clear through the window, and a pleasant breeze drifted in. He blinked twice—and then bolted upright.

‘What time is it!?’

His phone screen glowed: 12:13.

He usually opened his shop at ten. He had overslept badly.

It wasn’t a restaurant, so prep time was short, but he always woke by nine.

Rushing to wash up, he opened the door—when a delicious smell hit him.

“You’re awake?”

Yoo Hee-ro appeared with a plate piled high with golden, perfectly cooked French toast.

“Hungry, right?”

“Huh? Uh…”

He set the toast, a cup of milk, and a fork on the table, humming cheerfully.

“Eat before it gets cold. I had a feeling you’d wake around this time.”

Still frazzled, Ji-woo gave in to the invitation and took a bite.

“Thanks. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I haven’t slept that peacefully in years. All thanks to you. So this is a small repayment.”

“I don’t remember doing anything worth repaying… but I’ll eat well.”

The egg-soaked bread was warm, soft, subtly sweet. Comforting, like a perfect brunch.

Seeing Ji-woo brighten, Hee-ro finally took a bite himself.

“You ate instant noodles yesterday too… Hyung, you don’t really cook, do you?”

“Cough—! W-well… it’s just… a hassle…”

He’d been caught. He wasn’t bad at cooking, but living alone made him lazy. He often skipped meals or ate out.

“I’ve been thinking about taking cooking lessons.”

“Who? You?”

Ji-woo looked at him like he’d said something absurd.

“Yes. It feels important to eat nutritiously.”

“Well… you’re not wrong…”

But with hunter work, would he even have the time? Probably just something he said casually. Ji-woo didn’t take it seriously.

Throughout the meal, Hee-ro kept brushing back his bangs. Of course he would—he hadn’t had time to groom properly for three years.

The uneven ends looked like they’d been chopped with whatever scissors were available in the Gate.

Ji-woo reached out and pushed the messy bangs aside, exposing Hee-ro’s handsome features—sharp brows, a clean forehead, strong lines.

No wonder even that ridiculous hairstyle hadn’t managed to make him look bad.

Looking around, Ji-woo found a hair tie in a drawer—one Hye-rin had left behind.

“Hyung, why do you have that?”

She’d visited several times afterward but never took it back, so it had lived in the drawer for months.

“She left it.”

“…Why would she leave something like that?”

“No idea. She’s clumsy. Always forgetting things.”

Ji-woo complained at length about Hye-rin’s carelessness, completely missing how Hee-ro’s expression darkened further.

“There. Done.”

A single little antenna of tied hair sprouted from Hee-ro’s head. On a face that handsome, it looked hilariously mismatched. Ji-woo nearly burst out laughing.

“You look cute.”

Hee-ro’s serious face softened instantly.

“Really?”

Ji-woo couldn’t bring himself to say it again, so he simply nodded.

Knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on the store’s door. Ji-woo realized belatedly that he’d forgotten to open the shop again.

But Hee-ro moved first.

“I’ll get it.”

“…What?”

He was going out like that? Ji-woo had tied his hair, but still—this was Yoo Hee-ro, the man who’d appeared on TV oozing charisma the night before. He couldn’t let him go out looking like this.

He tried to stop him, but Hee-ro was already striding toward the door. Ji-woo hurried after him.

“Wait—your appearance—!”

Ji-woo didn’t care how he looked, but Hee-ro was a different story. The visual mismatch was criminal.

The door swung open just as Ji-woo grabbed Hee-ro’s shirt.

Hee-ro stared down at the customer with quiet intensity. Then, in a deep voice—

“We’re closed today.”

Click.

The door shut.

“Why did you decide that on your own—”

Ji-woo turned to scold him, but the sight froze him. A deadly serious, ridiculously handsome man… with an adorable antenna hairstyle.

How shocked must that customer have been?

Ji-woo clenched his teeth and looked away.

Hee-ro asked in a pleading, pitiful voice,

“Hyung… can we not work just for today?”

“……”

Ji-woo hesitated. Hee-ro had already turned away a customer… and there were no reservations.

The ingredients he ordered wouldn’t arrive until evening anyway.

And he did owe Hee-ro an apology for not attending the reinstatement ceremony.

So, he decided to yield. Just for today.