Chapter 54: The Intentional Wound

Unless he was with Yunhwan, Seonghye’s expression remained mostly like this. He no longer vented irritation or displeasure as he had at the start of his treatment. Because he didn’t show even a fingernail’s worth of emotional change, Junseong occasionally felt a prickle of unease.

Regardless, looking at that wax-like face was no longer a novelty. Junseong didn’t falter and skillfully changed the subject.

“Speaking of which, I’m thinking it’s about time we set a surgery date. Next Friday, which marks the sixth week of treatment, looks good to me. What do you think?”

In an instant, Seonghye’s fingers froze in mid-air. Then, his lips parted, and a voice thick with cracks spilled out.

“Already?”

His fine-featured face crumpled like a sheet of paper. Frowning, Seonghye asked Junseong again.

“Isn’t it too early?”

“If you look at the test results, you’ll see. With this current progress, surgery is more than possible.”

However, Seonghye remained silent, his brow furrowed, appearing unable to easily agree with Junseong’s words.

“I’ll speak to the Chairman. He’s always been deeply concerned about your treatment anyway. I suppose that’s just a parent’s heart.”

Was that all?

The Chairman’s persistence in demanding the surgery be done as soon as possible, and the heated debates between him and Professor Jang—who tried to hold him back—seemed to still echo in Junseong’s ears. He let out a low sigh.

Then, his eyes fell back on Seonghye, who still hadn’t said a word.

“Is there a problem? If the date doesn’t work for you, we can adjust it.”

Junseong spoke casually as he rose from his seat. While he meticulously adjusted the blinds on the window, his dark eyes sank, harboring a peculiar light.

Min Seonghye looked down at the goosebumps rising from the back of his hand to his forearm. The needle-like sensation enveloping his entire body now seemed to pierce through his skin and cling to his pupils. Feeling a strange pressure weighing him down, Seonghye raised only his eyes to stare at Junseong.

“Even after the surgery, my memories won’t be an issue, right?”

His gaze, fixed on the white lab coat, sank like water-logged cotton.

Junseong’s hand, which had been drawing the blinds, hesitated. He turned his upper body toward Seonghye, and a sliver of sunlight that had managed to pierce through the barrier drew a scar-like line across Seonghye’s face.

“Why the sudden interest in your memories?”

Junseong turned his body completely to face Seonghye.

“It’s not sudden. I’ve mentioned it a few times before.”

A hint of a laugh colored the end of his sentence, but his eyes were not laughing at all. After watching Seonghye in silence for a moment, Junseong shrugged and spoke.

“The surgery and your memories are unrelated.”

“Is that so?”

A split-ended voice flowed from Seonghye’s lips.

“Then make sure my memories don’t return.”

“…What?”

Junseong, who had been leaning against the window frame, stood up straight in spite of himself. Even though he tried to hide it, his confusion was glaringly obvious.

“Make sure your memories don’t return? What do you mean by that?”

However, the other man replied without any change in expression.

“Whether it’s the past me or the current me, I’m the same person anyway.”

“…….”

“I don’t understand why I have to keep the two separated.”

Faint red veins appeared and disappeared in the whites of Seonghye’s eyes. As a bizarre atmosphere settled over his face, Junseong began to keenly observe Seonghye’s expressions and movements.

“I know. My father, you, and everyone else probably want my memories to return. Since everyone seems to want it so fervently, I was curious at first too—about what kind of b*stard I was before I lost them.”

Min Seonghye let out a low laugh.

He was no longer curious about the past. Any shred of responsibility to find the past and do something about it had vanished long ago. On that deep midsummer night, at the moment when his memories supposedly returned for a brief instant.

Even though his memories had allegedly returned, nothing remained in his head, as if someone had plucked them out by hand. The returned memories had evaporated without leaving a trace, and whenever he brought up what happened that day, Kwon Yunhwan became excessively guarded.

In Seonghye’s eyes, Yunhwan’s defensive attitude was incredibly grating. Because Yunhwan’s inner thoughts—which couldn’t be fathomed even through imprinting—were what Seonghye guarded against most.

“I’m Min Seonghye anyway. Isn’t that right?”

Junseong’s face stiffened slightly.

“I’ll fill in my own memories from now on. Time will take care of the empty gaps.”

His low voice slowly filled the consultation room.

“I’m not going to look for my memories anymore. I’m no longer curious about the past I missed or the time I lost, so if I don’t look for them, they won’t come back.”

He had absolutely no interest in his vanished memories anymore. Rather, the absence that couldn’t be filled, no matter how hard he tried, wasn’t his lost memories—it was the man who was only half-connected to him.

Seonghye brushed a hand over one side of his face and looked at Junseong.

“You said my pheromones aren’t acting out like before.”

“Yeah. Thanks to you taking your medicine faithfully.”

Junseong, who had been listening intently to the question, nodded readily. While Seonghye knew it as pheromone treatment, the current method—which actually aimed to break the imprint—had once faced difficulties due to Seonghye’s heightened sensitivity in the early stages.

From Junseong’s perspective as a doctor, Seonghye no longer felt anxiety about the treatment. If that were the case, did Min Seonghye truly feel nothing while taking the medication?

“And it’s also thanks to Mr. Yunhwan.”

Junseong’s eyes narrowed as he observed how the other would react to the bait he had thrown.

Min Seonghye had been extremely wary of being separated from Kwon Yunhwan. In fact, hadn’t his body and mind once rejected the treatment even though the truth about it was perfectly hidden?

Junseong stared at Seonghye’s face, trying to read every change he displayed.

“If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead by now. Or insane.”

Min Seonghye muttered lowly. Then, his black pupils looked directly at Junseong.

“Do you have more questions?”

His eyes, sharp with a keen light, shot through the other man. Junseong habitually rubbed his lower lip.

Finally, he asked Seonghye.

“What about your anxiety? It’s been quite a while since you complained about it after starting the meds, but as your doctor, I’m curious.”

Seonghye’s lips curled up at the question.

“I told you. You brought quite a useful drug.”

Min Seonghye stared at Junseong with a peculiar expression before a cold smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“If the medicine was as bad as the injections, neither Kwon Yunhwan nor I would be here right now.”

“Hey… if you’re planning on going anywhere, tell me before you go. You have to give me time to prepare myself mentally.”

Junseong, hopping lightly off the window frame, shrugged at Seonghye.

His reply was deliberately light, but the obsessive affection in Seonghye’s voice made Junseong tense. During the short consultation of less than thirty minutes, the back of his neck was already drenched in sweat.

Why am I sweating so much just from a conversation? Junseong shook his head as he wiped the back of his neck. Walking past Seonghye toward his desk, he looked at the calendar hanging on the wall.

“Then I’ll set the surgery for next Friday.”

“I’m looking forward to it. My body will finally become useful.”

Min Seonghye tilted his head and laughed. At his nonchalant attitude, a scolding voice escaped Junseong’s mouth.

“If you know that, then be good to Mr. Yunhwan.”

“I’m always trying to do more than that.”

His voice was calm, but the corners of his mouth rose leisurely. His pupils, their depth nearly impossible to fathom, turned toward Junseong with a strange light.

Then, letting out a long breath—unlike before—he spoke.

“Come to think of it, my wrists have been stiff lately—”

Breaking off his sentence, Seonghye crossed his wrists and began to massage them. His long fingers pressed against his own firm skin on his pale wrists, as if making a point for everyone to see.

After the consultation.

“Your hand….”

Wrists neatly wrapped in bandages.

Seeing Seonghye appear with a sudden injury, Yunhwan’s eyes widened in surprise.

Seonghye spoke first to the Yunhwan who stood paralyzed in the middle of the stairs.

“Actually, I think I slept on it wrong; my wrists have been uncomfortable since this morning.”

“Since this morning?”

“Yes, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to worry, Hyung.”

His voice flowed out as tenderly as spring sunshine.

Seonghye pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek while watching Yunhwan, who had begun to examine his wrists.

Even though the doctor’s opinion was that there were no ligament issues and no bone issues—no problems at all—he had asked for the bandages without blinking an eye. While Junseong looked reluctant as he wrapped the bandages as the patient requested, he seemed to have no valid reason to refuse.

“…Is it very uncomfortable? It doesn’t hurt?”

Brown eyes meticulously examined every inch of the bandaged wrists. As the unwavering gaze clung to him, Seonghye’s eyes crinkled beautifully.

“Do you want to touch it?”

Yunhwan shook his head in alarm. Despite that, the worry lingering in his eyes remained.

“What? What if it gets worse because of that….”