NLFSD Chapter 79

Chapter 79

“…P-please, you don’t need to speak so formally. I’m… I’m unmarried. No, never married. My parents are gone. I’m alone.”

“Then you have no legal guardian?”

“…Yes.”

Jiwoon instinctively knew — I must not call Seo Taecheon here. He resolved to face this alone, at least for now.

“Patient Lee Jiwoon… Age 26, born May 1st. You’re a recessive Omega, correct?”

“…Yes. That’s right.”

“Listen carefully. Your expected survival is less than one year. Probability of survival is… extremely low.”

Jiwoon’s ears rang as though plugged, sound receding, reality slipping. The doctor sat right before him, yet the words arrived as if from somewhere far away.

Something about blood markers, about progression, about metastasis — the terms blended incomprehensibly, his brain blank. His head buzzed like constant tinnitus, unable to process.

Silence stretched before Jiwoon stammered, trembling:

“C‑could this be… a mistake? I’m— I’m usually very healthy.”

“This disease is such. One may live normally, only to deteriorate suddenly.”

“…I… what?”

“You have two options: whether to undertake treatment to alleviate suffering, or forego that process entirely.”

“Then—treatment, or healing… not at all possible?”

“I’m sorry. Not anymore.”

At last his mind began moving again. The explanation was clear: he was terminal. Irreversible. Recovery impossible.

Jiwoon stumbled from the consultation room. In the hallway, he stood dazed as thoughts collided.

What? Me—terminal? I’ve always been healthy, rarely even catching colds… How can I be terminal?

Denial rose sharp. Shaking his head, his breaths came shallow. Then an emergency stretcher rushed past.

“Clear the way!”

“Emergency case! Move aside!”

Staff shouted, people gasped. Some whispered, So young… poor thing.

Jiwoon’s gaze fixed as the stretcher disappeared.

Wait — could that be me one day? Collapse once and never rise again?

Paralyzed by the image, he lingered for long minutes before at last paying at the desk and slipping outside. He crammed the receipt, filled with fees, into his coat pocket, angered at even its sight.

“……”

Outside, rain drizzled — half snow, half sleet, icy wet.

No umbrella. How do I get to the bus stop… Taxi?

Taxis idled nearby. He started forward, then froze. Hot tears burst, blinding him, soaking his cheeks.

Taecheon.

Only Seo Taecheon’s face surfaced in his mind.

“Director, please divorce me!”

The scene replayed — Jinwoon barging into his office, waving family records, his shocked confusion. Their bickering, the clerical error uncovered, the plan to annul — and slowly, falling in love.

But the story ends here.

Jiwoon sank to the ground outside, icy rain drenching his body without mercy.

Somehow he reached home, but he couldn’t recall how. It was past 11 when he walked in, Taecheon absent.

Still at work. Good… I won’t have to face him yet.

Dragging into the living room, he collapsed on the sofa. At that moment, his phone buzzed.

ㅌㅊC:

I had an urgent meeting with clients, couldn’t message sooner. Did you visit the hospital? How was it?

Even buried in work, he worried for me…

Jiwoon stared quietly at the gentle message. What could he reply?

If I told him the truth, what would change? Nothing. Only pain. I will still die, leaving him broken.

I lost my grandparents young. That pain… I cannot let Taecheon feel it.

That was his conclusion. He wanted to shield him, not repeat his agony.

“…Taecheon.”

I’m sorry. Truly. But I can’t tell you.

Typing slowly:

They said it was acute gastritis from stress. No coffee or spicy food. No overtime either.

His fingers shook with each word. He despised the lie, but what choice was there?

ㅌㅊC:

Thank goodness it isn’t serious. I worried so much.

Tears flooded again. Jiwoon flung the phone away, burying his face in his knees. Damp hair still dripped from sleet. Clothes clammy, his warm home couldn’t warm him.

Maybe hot water will help.

He undressed, filled the tub with steaming water, sank in. But even immersed, warmth wouldn’t reach inside. The cold rose from his core. He scrubbed the tear streaks from his face over and over. Later, wrapped in blankets, he curled in bed, fighting fear until uneasy sleep took him.

Sometime later, the front door clicked. Seo Taecheon returned.

Don’t show it. Don’t let him see fear.

Feigning slumber, Jiwoon lay still. Taecheon slipped in, smelling of their shared shampoo.

“Sleeping, I see.”

He sat carefully, smoothing Jiwoon’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Jiwoon nearly sobbed aloud, turning quickly toward the wall, biting his lip hard. Yet hot tears slid quietly across his temple.

Please… don’t notice. Don’t see my tears.

Thankfully, Taecheon only relaxed with steady breathing. Jiwoon’s pillow silently dampened through the night.

At dawn he rose — truthfully, he had never slept. The sky tinted with first light, Taecheon still beside him, peaceful.

How many more mornings will I see this face? The thought tore his chest apart.

He quietly slipped from bed, tiptoed into his study room.

There, on the shelf, sat the AI Sookryeo‑Doongyi won from the trekking. He had learned already how to record voice messages.

Cradling the device, he perched on the sofa, inhaled, pressed “Record.”

“…Taecheon, please listen carefully to what I’m about to say.”

An hour later, Taecheon awoke. On the dining table — coffee, juice, fried eggs. He blinked in surprise.

“When did you wake?”

“Just now. Toast is almost done, wait!”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, nearly ready! The toaster handles it.”

But Jiwoon had botched the timer — the bread emerged charred black.

“Oh no, it’s burnt.”

“See? I told you.”

Chuckling, Taecheon hugged him lightly, kissed his cheek, then sat him down, moving deftly. In minutes, omelets and French toast appeared.

Jiwoon dug in eagerly.

“So delicious!”

“But your stomach — should you eat so much?”

Jiwoon stiffened.

“Ah, um… They gave me antacids. Said as long as I avoid spicy foods and reduce stress, eating is fine. Actually skipping meals is worse.”

He rambled whatever seemed sensible. To his relief, Taecheon nodded, visibly reassured.

“That’s good then.”

He cupped his cheek, speaking softly:

“Honestly… I was terrified it was something serious. During the entire client meeting, I couldn’t stop worrying.”

“Taecheon…”

“If anything ever happened to you, I couldn’t endure it.”

Of course — no husband could feel otherwise. But Jiwoon’s chest ripped open anew at those words.