HMN C43

Chapter 43

“This is good.”

Go Chiwoo took a sip of water from a short-stemmed goblet and fixed his gaze on Ahn Daeyoung, who was quietly eating his appetizer across from him.

He’d seen him in the student cafeteria a few times—usually picking at whatever bland food was served or grabbing gimbap like the other day. Maybe that’s why the thought had struck him: at least feed him a proper meal for once. He was rather lean, too; Chiwoo couldn’t help but wonder if he ever ate enough. Still, Daeyoung sat there with his lips pressed together, chewing diligently in small bites.

Chiwoo himself hadn’t been particularly hungry—he’d eaten something light that morning—but this outing wasn’t really about food. It was about watching him. And now that he was right here, across the table, eating quietly under the warm light, Chiwoo’s heart wouldn’t sit still.

Why the hell am I taking this idiot to the hospital, feeding him like some overbearing chauffeur, acting like I’m his caretaker? The question had crossed his mind more than once. But having him within sight, making sure he was eating and fine—it was better than wondering. Besides, eating together didn’t disgust him. Not like it should’ve. If anything, he wanted to reach over and poke at those puffed-up cheeks.

“Mmm! This one’s abalone!”

The face that usually frowned at him every time their eyes met was, for once, relaxed. Maybe it was because his wrists felt better after the hospital visit, or maybe it was because, for the first time in ages, he was eating real food instead of scraps—but whatever the reason, his expression shifted with each bite, eyebrows arching and lips curving in small bursts of delight.

“What are you staring at?”

He must’ve finally noticed the gaze on him; the corners of his lips, still glistening from chewing, tightened a little.

“I’m staring at you. You look cute even when you eat.”

Saying exactly what he felt wasn’t hard. The emotions themselves were strange and unfamiliar—he’d never felt this way toward anyone—but expressing them was as simple as saying I’m hungry, I’m sleepy, or I’m bored. But the listener—Daeyoung—reacted every single time. His brows knit tight, his ears flushed pink, his brown eyes darted restlessly from one corner of the room to another.

That, too, was adorable.

What kind of guy grows up this way? Chiwoo crossed his arms, ignoring the pounding in his chest, and simply watched him eat. Even when the waiter came in, announcing the main course with a polite knock, he didn’t shift his posture an inch. While Daeyoung muttered something under his breath and straightened up to inspect the new dishes, Chiwoo’s gaze stayed fixed on him.

He’s cute. I want to feed him more.

The bruises on his wrist, replacing the patches from earlier, looked pitiful. His fingers, slim and neat, worked carefully around the brace as he picked up food with the chopsticks. And when he opened his red lips and nibbled like a baby bird—small bites, soft chewing—Chiwoo’s heart thudded violently against his ribs.

This was unmistakably affection. Not the fleeting kind that made him restless when they were apart—but the kind that burned slowly, insistently. He wanted to be involved in everything about him: to be near him, tease him, maybe even lean close enough to breathe him in.

“If you’re not going abroad after graduation, take over the Infinity CC and try it out.”

His father’s voice from the weekend echoed in his head. He had no interest in golf or business. But people like his father, who thought money could buy happiness, never listened anyway. So Chiwoo hadn’t responded.

“Are you performing a ritual at the dinner table or something?”

Daeyoung’s voice snapped him back. Chiwoo shook his head. “Nothing.”

“This place has a Michelin star. Rate it.”

“Hmm…”

He took the request surprisingly seriously. After another thoughtful bite, he nodded.

“Three and a half.”

“What, out of five? That’s it?”

Chiwoo tilted his head. He’d expected those big brown eyes to go wide with delight, the way people reacted to food that amazed them. But no—Daeyoung just ate calmly, without fuss. He said it’s good, but there was no spark of wonder in it. Chiwoo had wanted that—wanted to see him light up.

“What kind of food gets five stars from you, then?”

“Braised hairtail.”

No hesitation at all.

“Which restaurant?”

That made him pause. He looked up, met Chiwoo’s eyes, and then quickly looked away again.

“There’s, uh, a place… somewhere.”

He was obviously making it up. Chiwoo didn’t press and just nodded, setting down his chopsticks and taking another sip of water.

Then Daeyoung spoke again, tone hesitant.

“Oh, right. That day…”

“What day?”

“The day we drank with the club.”

He clarified further, though carefully avoiding the phrase that hovered on his tongue—the day I got drunk and embarrassed myself in front of you. He remembered enough of it to cringe even now.

“There was this guy sitting across from me. Do you know him? His name was—”

“Park Hyundong.”

“Ah. Yeah.”

Chiwoo answered instantly. So he remembered too.

“He quit the club.”

“What?”

Daeyoung blinked. The memory wasn’t crystal clear, but that guy—he remembered him. The tone, the sneer, the look in his eyes that dragged back unpleasant memories from high school.

“Don’t waste your thoughts on that piece of trash.”

Knock, knock.

The waiter entered again, setting down dessert and iced coffee. The floating cubes of ice glistened, but Daeyoung still had something left to ask.

“You know why he quit?”

Their eyes met. Chiwoo wasn’t the club president; maybe the question was out of line. He started to wave it off.

“I kicked him out. Couldn’t stand his face.”

“…”

Daeyoung blinked, stunned, as Chiwoo added casually,

“He picked a fight with you.”

“…”

His voice was steady, but the words dripped with quiet fury.

“Guys like that, reeking of inferiority, all bark and no brains—they deserve a good beating.”

Daeyoung’s throat bobbed slightly. “…Because of me?”

“Smile if you’re gonna thank me.”

“…What?”

“I said smile.”

He lifted his cup again, taking a slow sip of coffee, utterly calm.

He’s insane.

Daeyoung’s thoughts spun in circles. Maybe Chiwoo knew that guy from before? Maybe this was some weird sense of justice? But that didn’t make sense. Only two people from his high school had entered this university, and the other was in a completely different department. Chiwoo, the friendless loner, couldn’t possibly know them.

So… it was really just because of him.

Because he liked him.

Daeyoung swallowed. So he really is… kind. To the people he likes.

It was absurd, but somehow warming. Hypnosis or not, Chiwoo was putting in effort—dragging him to hospitals, feeding him, keeping creeps away.

“…Yeah. I mean, you shouldn’t mess with your seniors.”

He’d heard Chiwoo say he liked him, had watched him act like it, but this—this was the first time he felt it. This was what it looked like when Go Chiwoo liked someone.

“It was him.”

“What was?”

“The guy who filmed you that night.”

Clink.

The spoon slipped from Daeyoung’s hand, clattering against the plate. His eyes went wide.

“What? How—how do you know that?”

“You forget I was in that alley?”

‘You again?’

Right—that night. He had been there.

Daeyoung hadn’t asked who took the video because he’d assumed, naturally, that Chiwoo was the culprit.

“I saw him.”

“…!”

His eyes grew even wider, his mouth falling open this time.

Chiwoo took another sip of coffee, unbothered.

He hadn’t intended to step in that night. He’d seen Daeyoung stumble and fall and, for reasons he couldn’t even explain—since it was long before any hypnosis—he’d thought about helping him. Maybe he’d just felt sorry for the guy who kept getting himself into stupid situations.

Then—

Flash.

A faint glint had caught his eye. Artificial light, bouncing off something metallic in the corner. He’d turned just in time to see it disappear into the shadows—a reflection off a camera lens, illuminated by the streetlight.

“So? Did you catch him?”

“He ran.”

Normally, Chiwoo wouldn’t have cared. He’d have kept walking without a second glance. But that night, for some reason, he hadn’t wanted to.

When he realized that the creep hiding in the shadows wasn’t filming him, but Ahn Daeyoung, something inside him snapped.

So he went after him.

The moment Park Hyundong noticed, he bolted, darting toward the end of the alley. Chiwoo followed at a steady pace—not running, not rushing—just walking until the man vanished around the corner.

Then, quietly, he stopped.