Chapter 97: Blue Sky Day

Han-geon’s birthday happened to be approaching.

No matter how busy he was, Eun-gyeol had never once missed it.

As for his own birthday, thanks to fans who made sure he couldn’t possibly ignore it, he greeted it noisily every year whether he liked it or not, but he himself always acted indifferent, saying a birthday was nothing special.

Sometimes, he even forgot about it until Eun-gyeol reminded him.

Out of boredom, he searched up Han-geon’s birthday and found that it was called “Blue Sky Day.”

A blue sky.

Thinking that it suited Choi Han-geon perfectly, Eun-gyeol let out a small chuckle without realizing it.

Eun-gyeol liked Han-geon’s birthday.

Perhaps even more than his own.

Thinking about what Han-geon might need and choosing a present for him always felt like a pleasure.

They had met whenever they found the time despite their busy schedules, so figuring out Han-geon’s needs was never difficult.

The watch he wore, the earbuds, his wallet, his sneakers, his workout clothes.

All of them were gifts from Eun-gyeol.

Seeing Han-geon quietly use things he had picked out to suit his own tastes made him indescribably happy.

At that point, one would think Han-geon would simply accept whatever he was given, but instead he always vehemently refused, saying it was too much.

Expensive gifts like that weren’t appropriate between friends, he insisted.

The one day Eun-gyeol could give him presents without worry was his birthday.

They had made it a rule years ago that on his birthday alone, Han-geon would accept whatever Eun-gyeol gave him without protest.

Imagining Han-geon accepting the gift with his face flushed red as he thanked him, Eun-gyeol chose this year’s present more carefully than ever.

This year, he decided on a jumper.

He picked out a couple that would suit him, and because he wanted to go skiing together, he also bought a pair of ski gloves that would match.

Then he added three or four pairs of sneakers Han-geon would like, and only then did he finally feel satisfied.

If Han-geon saw the price, he would probably go pale, curse him out, and demand an immediate refund.

But as long as he didn’t find out, it would be fine.

Ordering everything a month in advance turned out to be worth it.

After hiding the gifts as they arrived one by one, he decided to go all the way and prepare a small party at home too.

It was his first time doing something this embarrassingly sentimental, but it wasn’t impossible.

He ordered a cake, prepared food, and stocked the refrigerator.

The gifts were already wrapped.

He even ruthlessly shut down the team leader’s suggestion that they spend the evening at a company dinner instead.

On the way back to Seoul, even Choi Han-geon didn’t seem entirely unhappy.

– Oppa.
– Meet me right now.
– Fifteen minutes is enough.

Everything had been going smoothly until he answered Lee Juwon’s call.

At first, she spoke calmly, but little by little she broke down into sobs, rambling incoherently.

He fought down the urge to hang up immediately and tried to soothe her, but Juwon caused a scene, threatening to come to his house if he didn’t meet her right now.

It was awkward and irritating.

Ever since the rut, Juwon had been consistently restrained.

Why she was suddenly acting like this, and at this exact timing, was beyond him.

She was emotionally overwrought.

Honestly, he didn’t care what she did, but if she showed up and caused trouble, it would undoubtedly interfere with everything he had prepared for Han-geon.

So he put Han-geon inside the house and hurried off.

An hour and a half.

To keep the promise he had made to Han-geon, he pushed the speed recklessly.

When he climbed into Juwon’s van at the meeting spot, just as he’d expected, she was a mess, crying her eyes out.

“I really hope I never have to see you privately again, oppa.”

That was all she managed to say through her tears.

She had acted like she was on the verge of dying, so he’d come running, and Eun-gyeol immediately regretted his decision.

Gathering every shred of patience he had, he answered kindly.

“Fine.

Do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“You’re really… the worst.”

Even after that, Juwon continued glaring at him and venting her anger for a long while.

She talked about how humiliating it had been when he left her behind at the hotel, about how it made no sense that he hadn’t contacted her even once afterward, about how he shouldn’t treat people like they were invisible after returning to filming.

Eun-gyeol listened in silence, his expression unreadable.

Even so, he kept glancing at his wristwatch.

If he left around now, he wouldn’t be late.

He was just about to cut the conversation short and stand up.

“Oppa, you like that manager, don’t you?”

Eun-gyeol, who had been about to get up and leave the van, turned his head to look at her.

“Yeah.

I like our Han-geon a lot.”

He answered without hesitation, grinning, and Juwon looked thoroughly repulsed.

“Don’t dodge it like that.

Oppa, don’t tell me that’s why you left during the rut too.

Because of that manager?!”

“Juwon.”

The voice that had only been listening until now cut her off gently.

“That’s enough.”

“…..”

“Take care.”

With those words, he got out of Juwon’s van.

Thinking that he had run all this way just to hear something like that made him unbearably irritated, but as long as his schedule stayed on track, it would be fine.

If he drove fast from here, he could arrive much earlier than the promised hour and a half.

What was Choi Han-geon doing right now?

He’d probably showered.

He might be lying on the bed, or watching a movie.

Since he liked action films, it was probably something like that.

Imagining him stretched out alone on the sofa, wearing his favorite short shorts and a comfortable short-sleeved T-shirt, watching TV, a smile naturally spread across Eun-gyeol’s lips.

This wouldn’t do.

He couldn’t stand it anymore—he wanted to call him, to hear his voice.

They were supposed to have a party together, yet he’d left him alone, and that bothered him more than he expected.

It would be better to call and reassure him.

Tell him he was on his way, ask him to wait just a little longer.

But Choi Han-geon didn’t answer the phone.

The first two, three calls didn’t worry him that much.

He must be showering.

Maybe it was taking a while.

But once it passed five calls, an indescribable sense of discomfort began to crawl slowly up his skin.

It felt eerily similar to what he’d experienced a few days ago.

No way.

That couldn’t be it.

Eun-gyeol scoffed.

Back then, he’d only been anxious because he’d said something harsh the night before.

In reality, Han-geon had simply gone to work out, and Eun-gyeol had jumped to conclusions.

Today, there was no reason for him to suddenly disappear.

Just earlier, he’d been happy about spending time together.

He might have acted stoic and not said outright that he was happy, but after all the years they’d spent together, there was no way Eun-gyeol wouldn’t understand what he was feeling.

And yet, Eun-gyeol pressed down harder on the accelerator.

His impatience rose like water filling a container.

It seeped over his entire body, slowly submerging him, until it felt like it would eventually seal off even his breath.

The moment he arrived home, he ran upstairs like a madman.

As he flung the door open roughly, Eun-gyeol’s eyes widened.

Omega scent.

The faint trace he had once smelled at Han-geon’s place had grown so dense that even Eun-gyeol flinched at it now.

After standing there for a moment, taking deep breaths, he bolted straight into the bedroom.

Scattered clothes.

Choi Han-geon gone.

Pheromones strong enough to make his head spin.

What all of this pointed to was painfully clear.

“…f*ck.”

The curse that slipped out sounded hollow even to his own ears.

Of all times, to go into a manifestation episode while Eun-gyeol was gone—
if it was coincidence, it was cruel to the point of obscenity.

He shouldn’t have gone.

An hour and a half be damned—he should never have left Han-geon alone.

The first emotion that hit him was worry.

Anxiety.

Having gone through a manifestation episode himself, he couldn’t help it.

The thought of Han-geon—who couldn’t even properly control his pheromones—being somewhere unknown was enough to drive him mad.

He didn’t know whether Han-geon even realized this was a manifestation episode, but it must have been agonizing, so Eun-gyeol convinced himself that he would have gone straight to a hospital rather than anywhere else.

He wanted to believe that.

Eun-gyeol immediately rushed out of the house.

Driving his car, he decided to search every nearby hospital.

He couldn’t have gone far.

But every hospital he stopped at repeated the same line:
they couldn’t disclose patient information.

In the end, Eun-gyeol pulled his cap low and put on a mask, then thoroughly searched the emergency room himself.

But there was no sign of Choi Han-geon.

Not even a shadow.

He checked three or four hospitals like that, but he couldn’t find him anywhere.

He felt like he was going insane.

He should have installed a tracking app on Han-geon’s phone or watch long ago.

Swearing to himself that he would absolutely do so the next time they met, he drove toward Han-geon’s place for now.

The moment he saw the darkened house, anger flared up inside him.

On the off chance, he went inside and searched every room, but there wasn’t a trace of Choi Han-geon anywhere.

He couldn’t suppress the boiling rage rising inside him.

He wanted to throw and smash anything he could get his hands on.

But there was no time to drown in his emotions.

His body moved on its own.

Rather than waiting stupidly in a place without Han-geon, it was better to look for him himself.

He probably wasn’t running around with an injured body, but just in case, he headed for the park Han-geon often visited.

But there was no sign of him there either.

He circled alleys and main roads, afraid Han-geon might have collapsed somewhere, all the while repeatedly calling him without stopping.

He had lost count of how many times he’d tried to contact him.

When he checked a notification saying he’d received a message, Eun-gyeol couldn’t help but flinch.

It was Choi Han-geon.

[I stepped out for some fresh air.

I’ll be back by Sunday evening.]