HMN C24

Chapter 24

“Hey, hey. Try pushing with your weight.”

“What do you mean, how?”

“Turn the knob to the right and push the door.”

As he stepped aside, Daeyoung’s lips went dry. Go Chiwoo tried the instructions, turning the handle with a conspicuously unskilled posture—a prince who had never in his life forced his way through a heavy door. Watching him with disdain, Daeyoung frantically patted his pockets. Of course, his phone wasn’t going to magically appear.

“Call someone on your phone. I didn’t bring mine.”

With this guy, anything and everything seemed to go wrong. Dropping his shoulders, Daeyoung slumped to the ground. He was fairly sure the prince hadn’t thought to save the team leader’s contact number from their volunteer briefing, so really, any call—police, anyone—would do.

“My battery’s dead.”

“……”

Shaking out his hands, Daeyoung propped his elbows on his knees and peered up. Go Chiwoo met his gaze with a careless shrug, as if he didn’t understand the problem at all.

“You’re lying.”

“Do I look like I’m lying?”

“Ugh!”

Gnashing his teeth in frustration, Daeyoung sprang up, pounding his fist against the door. But the heavy steel only produced dull, muffled thuds rather than any real noise. The feeling in his gut was unmistakably bad.

“Ha…”

When his knuckles started to ache, Daeyoung pressed his forehead to the door and shut his eyes tightly. He wasn’t the type to fear small, dark spaces, but anyone would feel anxiety at being trapped in a basement. He exhaled a slow, long breath, turning to look around.

Go Chiwoo had perched himself on the edge of a stack of boxes, back against the wall, arms folded across his chest.

“Come over here and at least bang on the door, won’t you?”

Sliding him a glare, Daeyoung jerked his chin at the door for emphasis, but Chiwoo replied—eyes lowered, tone utterly unbothered—

“All you do is hurt your hand. The sound’s nothing. Why bother?”

Daeyoung clenched his jaw and spat out nonsense syllables, as if to say, ‘we ought to be doing something.’ Only then did Chiwoo actually glance at him. Somewhere along the line, Daeyoung had stripped off his work gloves; bare, his wrist was mottled with remnants of patches.

“Once the event wraps up, they’ll check the headcount and realize we’re missing. The person who gave you the job is still on site, so they’ll figure out where we are. Even if not, these boxes are all clean—people must come in daily. There’s no point wasting your energy screaming over music no one will hear. Just sit tight.”

“……”

Daeyoung closed his mouth. Rude as ever, Chiwoo’s matter-of-fact tone held weight. Strangely, that steady, unruffled voice eased his nerves a little, so Daeyoung gulped some air, exhaled, and sat back down.

“Yeah… I don’t know either.”

If the absolute worst happened and they spent the night locked in here, at least the shop owner would show up for his wares tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like they’d been abandoned on an uncharted island. The real problem was if no one came until tomorrow.

But exhaustion cut short any further panic. Dropping his shoulders, Daeyoung leaned up against the wall, chilly basement air curling around him. There was a heater somewhere but, for now, it seemed unnecessary—the chill was bearable. If it got worse, they’d switch it on.

All efforts to pound or shout eventually faded, giving way to the muffled thump of music from outside—a faint echo of the fair’s makeshift stage aboveground. Habit made him glance at his wrist, but his smartwatch, uncharged from the night before, was useless.

“Four thirty.”

Across the room, Go Chiwoo lifted his wrist slightly, showing a watch that was unmistakably expensive. Daeyoung bobbed his head in a silent thanks. Had he been watching Daeyoung all this time? Curious, Daeyoung angled his jaw upward and, for a moment, their eyes met. He quickly looked away.

Both fell silent, and neither bothered to speak again. Resting with his back to the wall, Daeyoung shut his eyes and let time trickle past.

A hint of dust in the air. Faint cement, tinted with the fruity tang from the spilt syrup. Moisture—cold and still. The saving grace was that he wasn’t alone. However much he disliked Chiwoo, it was better than being shut in a bunker by himself.

Otherwise, he’d probably still be raging at the door, his voice hoarse with shouting. He flexed his fingers idly, quietly grateful he had company.

How much longer would they wait before someone noticed they were missing? Ten minutes, perhaps, had already passed. If he heard any sounds outside, he’d get up and try the door again. I should’ve brought a book. That thought made him laugh at himself. If only—better yet, a phone. Not that he’d have gotten locked in if he’d had it.

“……”

Drifting along the scattered thread of his own thoughts, Daeyoung blinked open his eyes again—only to meet Chiwoo’s gaze. What are you looking at? Grateful for the company, yes; but why did it have to be this guy? A fresh wave of irritation creased his brow and he looked away again, scanning around them.

The owner really did run multiple businesses. The storage was packed; shelves with food, cases of bottled water stacked in the corner. So they wouldn’t go hungry, at least. Good. Trapped in a bunker together, but not destined to eat each other to survive. The thought made him snort internally.

Rummaging to pass the time, Daeyoung reached into his pants pocket—sure it would be empty—but his fingers found something heavy.

“You have flashy tastes, don’t you.”

Chiwoo was still watching him.

“If you didn’t contribute a cent, maybe keep quiet?”

It was the necklace he’d received from his grandmother, after helping her clean out her shop. Daeyoung shot Chiwoo a look, then eyed the pendant. He’d grabbed his weekend pants by mistake that morning, so it had just sat in his pocket, undisturbed and forgotten. At least now, with nothing else to do, he could toy with it to stave off nerves.

“Give someone a present like that and they’ll only end up crying with a runny nose when you break up.”

Is he my friend? Why does he keep striking up conversation now?

“It’s not a gift.”

Sharply, Daeyoung looked back and turned the gemstone inside the circular pendant, slow and deliberate. Stiff, but it moved. This really did look like a hypnosis prop. Maybe there was a pattern he hadn’t noticed before. He brought it close to his eyes, wishing for his phone to research it.

“So you actually wear it?”

“No, you idiot. It’s just for hypnosis—”

He trailed off; even he knew how absurd it sounded, especially to this guy. As expected—a soft snort of laughter reached his ears.

He heard it. He knew. Daeyoung scowled and cocked his head.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Oh… Not mocking you. Just reminded how you’re stubbornly earnest in everything—even this kind of nonsense.”

How was that any different from mockery? Daeyoung didn’t truly believe in hypnosis either. He’d accepted the necklace as a gift, and treated every explanation as a joke. But it felt different, coming from Chiwoo—the usual arrogance stung just a little more. Straightening his back, Daeyoung squared his shoulders.

“So, you only believe what you can see? Easy life must mean you’ve never had to trust in anything invisible.”

He knew he sounded defensive, maybe even jealous, but as far as he was concerned, it was always Chiwoo who started these petty fights. He seized the chance to let it rip.

“Fine, I believe in all sorts of things. I work hard, maybe even mindlessly. But you—you grew up lacking nothing, and the one thing you excel at is judging people and thinking you’re above them. It’s kind of sad, seeing it.”

Once the words began, the rest tumbled out.

“And did you know? When people get hypnotized, skeptics like you are always the first to go under. They’ll eat onions like apples and cry their eyes out.”

He stopped. He rarely insulted anyone, so it was both satisfying and uncomfortable—especially since Chiwoo had called him ‘delusional’ and ‘foolish’ earlier. For once, Daeyoung let his inner fire burn.

But Chiwoo said nothing. No sarcasm, no pointed retort—just the same irritably handsome face, silent and unperturbed.

“……”

“……”

After all that, the silence felt awkward—but Daeyoung forced himself to sit tall, proving to himself that he could face whatever came. He fiddled with the necklace, rotating the jewel absently. At that moment, a voice dropped quietly over his head.

“Do you want to make a bet?”

“…What?”

Looking up, Daeyoung saw Chiwoo unfold his arms and lean forward, elbows on his knees, chin tilted in challenge.

“Try hypnotizing me with that thing.”

It was so offhand, Daeyoung frowned.

“Oh, come on.”

“But you don’t really believe it, do you? You’re just pretending—wanting to win an argument.”

Those words squeezed his pride. His neck stiffened.

“If I win, what should you do?”

“Anything.”

Absolutely certain, Go Chiwoo promised he would do anything Daeyoung directed. That confidence jabbed somewhere deep inside Daeyoung. In the dim glow of the basement, their eyes locked, quietly fierce.

“Take a semester off.”

“Fine.”

He answered instantly. Daeyoung swallowed. He’d never thought seriously about hypnosis, but it was a real phenomenon, wasn’t it? Not impossible.

“And if you win?”

“Well… Let’s just say, my faith in myself goes up, and yours goes down.”

“Deal.”

Daeyoung agreed at once. He had nothing to lose, but if he won, Chiwoo would have to take a leave from school. Goodbye, rainbow prince. Of course, Chiwoo’s claim to personal ‘faith value’ was laughable, but at this point, even breathing felt like a challenge between them.

Clink.

The chain and pendant jangled in Daeyoung’s palm as he rose and moved toward Chiwoo. The latter leaned back against the wall, shadow slicing across Daeyoung’s face as he drew closer. A subtle shift in scent hung, thick and unfamiliar, in the air between them.