Big eyes swept the dark room. He couldn’t sleep. Hugging the fluffy blanket, wiggling his toes, Se-hyeon picked up his phone. With nowhere for calls to come from and no one to call first, it was a phone he barely used even though he had it.
After a long time, he searched Cheong-o’s name and clicked a photo. It looked like it had been taken mid-workout — he was wearing clinging athletic clothes. As if spellbound, Se-hyeon zoomed in on the thick, solid forearms, then sat up.
He trained steadily too, so he could manage easy exercise. Overestimating himself, Se-hyeon attempted push-ups on the bed.
“Ah…!”
Only a pathetic groan remained as he collapsed flat. The push-ups he’d begun with such spirit failed without clearing a single rep. At least no one was watching.
Tasting failure, he remembered barely managing three push-ups during training. Breathing a little hard, Se-hyeon lay straight and pulled up the covers. A cozy blanket beat exercise after all.
Enter your search.
L Seo Cheong-o esper
L Seo Cheong-o esper workout
– Seo Cheong-o workout
L Seo Cheong-o body
He didn’t even notice the night deepening as he searched for Cheong-o. His eyes were gritty by the time he finally passed out, Cheong-o’s abs the last thing he saw.
Habit was a funny thing — he resented his eyes for opening at work time even on his day off. He sat on the bed to settle his dizzy vision from getting up after lying down, and sighed.
He ought to be used to a body that seemed healthy without being healthy, but he still wasn’t. He made the bed and went to wash, his hair sticking out every which way.
He toasted bread lightly, spread jam, added an egg, and started on the simple sandwich sitting down. The house was quiet — no TV, no music. Munching the bread blankly, he heard his phone, which had been playing dead on the bed, vibrate.
His phone hardly ever rang, so his chewing slowed. Careful not to drop crumbs, he brushed his hands lightly and looked down at the phone with the unknown number on its screen. Someone must have misdialed.
When he didn’t answer, the noisy phone went quiet. He’d had no intention of answering in the first place, so he turned to go back to his seat — and the same number filled the screen.
Answering the phone always made him tense for no reason. He’d done nothing wrong, but his heart trembled whenever he took a call.
Se-hyeon cleared his throat and picked up. It could be the Center.
“Hello?”
“If you didn’t pick up this time either, I was just going to come up.”
“…Who is this?”
“We saw each other yesterday, and ‘who is this’ — that’s a little hurtful.”
His small mouth fell open. He pulled the phone away and tapped the screen; it was still an unknown number. He put the phone back to his ear.
“How do you know my number?”
“Curious?”
“Did the Director tell you?”
“I’m in front of your residence right now. Come down if you’re curious.”
At the call, ended on his own terms, Se-hyeon froze in bewilderment. What should he do first? First… tidy the table, brush his teeth… Calmly ordering his steps, Se-hyeon moved.
He changed into going-out clothes, grabbed a thin shirt, waited for the elevator, then gave up and took the stairs — and just that little bit of running left him gasping for breath. He stopped before the entrance to catch his breath, then stepped outside as if he’d never run at all, and gulped.
The car he’d ridden yesterday was in front of the residence building. He approached with reluctant steps, and Cheong-o got out and came toward him. He was in light going-out clothes too — a white short-sleeve shirt and jeans. Maybe it was the long legs, but the jeans suited him.
“Sleep well?”
“Got to open the door for our guide again.”
Cheong-o opened the passenger door with a grin and gestured.
“I wiped it down extra clean, thinking of our guide.” Unable to read the intent behind the sudden visit, Se-hyeon watched him warily, then sat in the passenger seat, buckled up, and squeezed sanitizer onto his palm. Only after enjoying the sight of the young guide’s sanitizing routine did Cheong-o close the door and get into the driver’s seat.
While Cheong-o buckled up, Se-hyeon was wiping the door handle with an alcohol swab. Squeak, squeak. Looked like he wouldn’t need a car wash for a while.
“How do you know my number?”
“Don’t people usually start with hello when they meet?”
“I’m asking how you knew. And how did you know I’m off today?”
“You’ve got so many secrets, I had to study up.”
“…Did you run a background check on me?”
“You’re turning a model citizen into a criminal in no time.”
Cheong-o had a habit of speaking in a voice that never quite carried sincerity. Arguing with him was pointless.
The passenger seat had been oddly cold when he sat down — the AC was beyond cool, freezing. Se-hyeon pulled on the thin shirt he’d brought for just this.
“Cold?”
“I feel the cold a lot.”
“See? I study and study, and questions I don’t know keep popping up.”
“…You don’t have to turn it down. In summer, the cold person dresses warmer.” Cheong-o’s eyebrows twitched at the unexpected remark. Soon, even though Se-hyeon had put on the outer layer, the airflow lessened. As the temperature turned pleasant, the goosebumps on his white skin settled. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing bony wrists.
Come to think of it — where were they going? It was the most important question, the one he should have asked first, but the number had left him no room to think about it.
“Where are we going?”
“We said we’d get clothes fitted.”
“I don’t need it — my current uniform is fine.”
“What’s fine about it? A gust of wind would strip it off you.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Our guide talks back to his elders without missing a beat.” Se-hyeon glared at him, dumbfounded. How much older could he be, anyway. His small mouth, full of complaint, puckered.
Even in front of the shop, Se-hyeon held out, refusing to go in — until he surrendered to the old line: if you won’t walk in yourself, I’ll carry you.
At the uniform shop, the tailor lost his job, and Cheong-o measured Se-hyeon instead.
The tailor, watching Se-hyeon — who had kept trying to squirm away when he’d tried to measure him — go meek and obedient in front of Cheong-o, broke out in a hollow cold sweat.
“Will you pick it up, or should we ship it?”
“Ship it, please.” “Write your address, name, and number here.”
Se-hyeon’s eyes went round as he eavesdropped from behind Cheong-o. Cheong-o was writing down everything that was clearly his to write. Even the address and number were his, correct to the digit.
Cheong-o held out his card to pay, then turned around — and Se-hyeon, who’d been stuck to his back, stepped back.
“You’ve had breakfast. Lunch?”
“Why on earth do you have someone else’s address memorized?”
“So I can come rescue our guide if anything happens.”
“Nothing’s going to happen, so don’t memorize it.”
“Since you say so, I’ll just say okay. What do you want to eat?” Cheong-o kindly held the door for Se-hyeon until he was out. It was hot outside, so Se-hyeon hung the thin shirt on his bag and walked, looking around. There weren’t many restaurants, so the menu was limited — which somehow made choosing take longer.
The handler had said Cheong-o liked Korean food, so a Korean restaurant would be good, right?
While Se-hyeon’s eyes darted about searching for a Korean restaurant, Cheong-o walked beside him, matching his careful steps.
When he sulked alone his steps quickened, but now they were slow — it felt just like watching a cat.
Unable to decide on a menu after wandering for ages, the two ended up eating at some Chinese restaurant. Cheong-o ate a lot, and though Se-hyeon ate little by comparison, he finished his share neatly — and the owner came over and handed them ice cream.
The owner, grateful for the rare good sales, saw them all the way out the door.
“Tell me how much it was later and I’ll send the money.”
“Would it be all right to give you my account number?”
“I’ll pay cash.”
“Cash with your snot on it is a little gross.”
At the tone that treated him like a kid yet again, Se-hyeon stiffened.
“It’s melting.”
But before he could say anything, Cheong-o gestured with his eyes — the ice cream was melting — and Se-hyeon hurriedly popped it in his mouth.
Cheong-o watched with keen interest as Se-hyeon struggled to fit even one small — by his standards — ice cream bar into his mouth, and muttered to himself. Holding the stick, clean of every trace of ice cream, Cheong-o gauged something, then looked for a trash can.
He threw away the trash Se-hyeon handed him after his hard-fought ice cream, then watched with amusement as Se-hyeon pulled out a wet wipe with practiced ease. He’d wondered what was in the single bag Se-hyeon had brought — apparently it held his essentials.
After wiping his hands thoroughly, Se-hyeon glanced at Cheong-o and pulled out a wipe for him. Cheong-o looked down at the pristine white wipe, so like its owner, and wiped his hands; Se-hyeon naturally produced the sanitizer gel.
The sticky hands turned spotless in an instant. A hand without a single germ on it thrust itself before Cheong-o.
Gel dropped onto the hand full of small scars. Staring at the rough hand, Se-hyeon put the sanitizer away.
“What’s in there?”
“Just… stuff.”
“If I say I’m curious, will you show me?”
Most of what he said was laced with jokes, so Se-hyeon studied him — was this another one, or was he genuinely curious?
“Nothing special.”
“Mm.”
“…You can look later.”
“Really?”
“You’re curious, aren’t you.”
“I’m so grateful I don’t know what to do with myself.”
Cheong-o grinned. At the sudden smile, Se-hyeon hurriedly turned his head away.
His heart pounded chaotically and heat rose through his whole body. This was why letting his guard down was dangerous.
He could blame his reddening face on the summer, but there was no excuse for his racing heart — he only hoped it wouldn’t reach Cheong-o’s ears.
The car carrying a flustered, self-conscious Se-hyeon stopped in front of the Center. The moment Cheong-o parked, Se-hyeon unbuckled and made his escape — only to grab at the firmly shut, unopening door and blink.
The lock was off, but the door wouldn’t budge. After several tries, accepting that this was beyond his own strength, Se-hyeon bit his lip and looked sideways. Beside him, leaning on the steering wheel, Cheong-o was watching him at leisure.
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