Chapter 90: The Moment He Realized His Feelings

After that, the two of them carried secrets they could neither speak of nor ask about, going on with their daily lives as if nothing were wrong.

“Are you going to train again today?”

“Huh? Uh… yeah… I’ll be back.”

Seong Ji-woo answered awkwardly as he packed his bag. Yu Hee-ro briefly made a strange expression at the sight, but quickly hid it.

“Have a good day.”

“Yeah… uh… you take care too?”

“I’m going to tidy up the house.”

“The house?”

“Yes. We decided to move together, didn’t we?”

“Oh, that place… right. Anyway, good luck.”

With those words, Seong Ji-woo slung his half-unzipped bag over his shoulder and fled the general store as if running away. Watching his retreating figure, Yu Hee-ro let out a deep sigh.

This was never what he had wanted.

Seong Ji-woo, glancing around the shop over his shoulder, felt just as uncomfortable. Back then, it had felt wrong to press the issue, so he had brushed it off with vague words—but the more he thought about it, the more he sensed an inexplicable distance between them.

It kept bothering him, yet Yu Hee-ro had asked him not to ask. Caught in between, Seong Ji-woo could do nothing. Worse still, he couldn’t even understand why he cared so much in the first place.

As the contradiction repeated itself, it felt as though something in his brain had short-circuited. At some point, Seong Ji-woo began avoiding Yu Hee-ro.

It wouldn’t solve anything. If anything, it would only make their relationship stranger—but strangely, his body refused to listen to reason.

“Ha… this is driving me crazy.”

Dragging his feet, Seong Ji-woo headed to the training grounds. Lately, he’d been spending more time there—moving his body and sweating seemed to chase away the intrusive thoughts, at least a little.

Yu Hee-ro didn’t look pleased about it, but given the circumstances, he didn’t complain as he usually would. Seong Ji-woo used the excuse that Yu Hee-ro hadn’t said anything outright and continued extending his training sessions.

But today, he couldn’t shake the thoughts piling up in his head, and eventually—

Bang!

“Ugh…!”

Something went wrong.

In the middle of sword training over a high obstacle, Seong Ji-woo failed to break his fall properly and crashed down. There were safety mats below, but the height was enough that injury was unavoidable.

“Are you okay?”

A startled Son Ji-hwan rushed over to him. Seong Ji-woo was in too much pain to speak properly, only opening and closing his mouth soundlessly. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Son Ji-hwan moved to call an ambulance, but Seong Ji-woo stopped him with all the strength he had left.

“I—I’m… okay…! You don’t need to call… an ambulance…”

“I won’t. Then please don’t try to stand up.”

Son Ji-hwan was about to put his phone away when another thought struck him, and he began dialing again.

“You live with the guild master, right?”

Only then did Seong Ji-woo realize who he was calling and hurriedly tried to stop him, but the call connected first.

[Hello?]

“Guild master?”

[Who is this?]

“It’s Son Ji-hwan.”

[…Why are you calling?]

Yu Hee-ro’s cold voice sounded even more unfamiliar through the phone. Seong Ji-woo listened in shock as Son Ji-hwan continued calmly.

“The vice guild master was injured during training.”

[…What?]

“So I think it’d be best if you came to get him. He can’t even stand.”

[…]

“Hello? Hello? Uh… he hung up.”

Son Ji-hwan stared blankly at his phone’s home screen. Seong Ji-woo squeezed his eyes shut.

“Should I call again?”

“No… He’s probably already on his way.”

If it was Yu Hee-ro, he’d be running here without even having the presence of mind to answer properly. That was just the kind of person he was—helpless when it came to Seong Ji-woo.

Relaxing his body completely, Seong Ji-woo stared up at the high ceiling of the training hall. The lights scattered faintly above him.

Could it be… that I’m hurt?

A single drop fell into the stifling space inside his heart.

The reason he felt so uncomfortable, the reason he kept wanting to avoid Yu Hee-ro—it was all because he had believed that he was special to him.

And once he realized that Yu Hee-ro had a secret he was hiding from him, it felt as though that specialness no longer applied… and that left him hurt.

A vague sense of betrayal. Disappointment. And hurt.

This wasn’t something he could brush off by saying he was merely curious about Yu Hee-ro’s relationship with Park Soo-jin. His condition was far more serious than that.

From the moment he realized Yu Hee-ro wanted to hide something from him, Seong Ji-woo could no longer treat him the same way as before—despite having once wished for Yu Hee-ro to leave his side and step out into a wider world.

“Why… why is this happening…?”

“Earlier, I noticed that you were putting too much weight on your right leg. It seems like the slight sprain you had on your left leg last time caused a problem—”

Thinking the question was directed at him, Son Ji-hwan calmly explained how the injury had occurred. But none of it reached Seong Ji-woo’s ears.

He was still reeling from the shock of realizing that he felt hurt because of Yu Hee-ro.

Don’t expect anything from people. Don’t rely on them.

Those words were practically a life creed—something Seong Ji-woo had established to protect himself.

Yu Hee-ro had crashed into that wall again and again… until he finally shattered it.

Crash!

The door to the training hall flew open violently, as if it might break apart. For a brief moment, Seong Ji-woo wondered if it was even possible to open such a heavy steel door with that much force—then the distant figure rushed toward him at an absurd speed, and he froze in shock.

“You’re injured? What do you mean you’re injured?!”

Disheveled in a way he’d never seen before, breathing unevenly, Yu Hee-ro frantically inspected him. Seeing that, Seong Ji-woo burst out laughing.

“Is this really the time to laugh?”

Yu Hee-ro put on a stern expression, but Seong Ji-woo only reached out and smoothed his mess of hair.

“You ran all this way because you were worried about me?”

The anxiety that had been crushing him vanished the instant he saw Yu Hee-ro’s face.

How had he not realized it before—when Yu Hee-ro had been looking at him like this all along?

This morning… maybe yesterday morning, and the morning before that too, Yu Hee-ro might have been looking at him with this same expression. The only fool who hadn’t known what to do was himself.

“…What are you saying? Of course I’d worry. I get a call saying the person who went to training suddenly got hurt and can’t even stand—how could I not?”

His voice, tightly restraining his anger, was brimming with concern. There was no room for doubt.

“Get on my back. Hurry.”

With Son Ji-hwan’s help, Seong Ji-woo was hoisted onto Yu Hee-ro’s back. It was sturdier and warmer than he’d expected. His shoulders were broad, making it easy to hook his arms around him.

A short while later, they arrived at an orthopedic clinic. After examining Seong Ji-woo and taking X-rays, the doctor said:

“It’s a mild ankle sprain. The pain in your back seems to be from muscle shock and tension. We’ll prescribe painkillers and recommend physical therapy. As for the ankle, you’ll need a cast for a while. Ah—could you please tell the guardian beside you that it’s nothing serious?”

Nodding along, Seong Ji-woo turned his head at the doctor’s words, confused. Yu Hee-ro’s face was twisted as though he were about to cry.

“It’s fine. They said it’ll heal with just a cast.”

“If it needs a cast, that’s not fine at all…”

“…Is it not?”

When he first fell, the pain had been so intense he’d thought it was at least a fracture. Hearing that it was “just” a sprain made it feel relatively minor. Even the doctor had said it wasn’t serious.

The one taking his injury the most seriously was Yu Hee-ro.

And for some reason, today, Seong Ji-woo didn’t find that ridiculous or over the top.

Instead, it made him feel good.

After physical therapy and getting the cast, nothing really changed—his foot hurt too much to bear weight, so he had to be carried on Yu Hee-ro’s back again all the way to the general store.

After carefully setting Seong Ji-woo down on the sofa, Yu Hee-ro asked him:

“So… are you done avoiding me now?”

“…Yeah.”

Hesitant, but honest, Seong Ji-woo slowly nodded. He chose not to deny it. Yu Hee-ro looked surprised for a moment, then smiled faintly.

“These past few days were really hard for me.”

“Sorry. Was it tough, trying to read the room?”

“It’s not about that…”

Yu Hee-ro trailed off and shook his head.

“No. It’s nothing. Anyway… hyung, isn’t it dangerous to keep training like this?”

“Huh?”

Caught completely off guard, Seong Ji-woo’s eyes widened. Training had become second nature to him, and if it weren’t for this mistake, he’d have been ready to head straight into real combat.

Yu Hee-ro took a deep breath and spoke in a low, heavy voice.

“Of course, if you want to, I want to support you. But I told you before—if I need to intervene as guild master for the vice guild master’s safety, I want you to accept that. This is that moment.”

“……”

“I’m right here. I’m not absent. So why… honestly, it hurts. Do you not trust me?”

“What? No. That’s not it. I just—”

He’d never imagined Yu Hee-ro would take it that way. Distrust had never even crossed his mind. Yu Hee-ro was, without question, the best hunter in the country.

The real reason he wanted to be a damage dealer rather than a supporter was—

******************

This was a story from the time Seong Ji-woo finally emerged back into the world after finishing his mandatory service at the X-Gate and spending a long period in seclusion.

Unable to enter gates alone, he searched for a party to join…

“Hmm, a supporter?”

“We don’t really need a supporter.”

Tanks and supporters were nice to have, but they weren’t strictly necessary for gate combat. To most hunters, they were optional additions—useful, but not worth including in a one-off party.

“And you don’t even have experience. There’s been a huge gap since your X-Gate service, hasn’t there?”

Despite the appraising gazes scanning him, Seong Ji-woo calmly explained.

“I was undergoing treatment for an injury. As you can see, I’m fine now.”

Half a lie, half the truth. Mental injuries were injuries too, if one counted them. And in truth, he wasn’t completely fine yet.

“When I was in high school, I participated in the system as an intern. I’ll be more helpful than most damage dealers.”

At his confident words, the hunters burst out laughing.