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    Chapter 66

    “Ugh, I’m exhausted from all that hassle.”

    When Jiwoon got home, he was completely drained. Just replaying Song Team Leader’s ungentlemanly behavior made him sick to his stomach, and even gave him a headache.

    Before Seo Taecheon returned, he thought he might rest a little. He soaked himself in hot water for a long bath, then collapsed onto the bed. Perhaps from the mental fatigue, drowsiness took him.

    I shouldn’t fall asleep. I should wait for Taecheon to come back


    That was his intention, but his eyelids kept shutting on their own. In the end, Jiwoon drifted into deep slumber early in the evening.

    It was a dream — and he knew it. Strange, because he both inhabited the dream and observed it from outside.

    A field
 There’s me standing there. And beside me, Taecheon
 Wait, isn’t that a child?

    In dream’s vision, a version of Jiwoon was holding a small child. Oddly, he had his back to Taecheon, walking — almost running — away from him with the child clutched desperately in his arms.

    Behind, Taecheon reached out, calling his name.

    “Jiwoon! Jiwoon!”

    But that dream‑Jiwoon ignored his voice, clutching the child tighter and speeding up. Nearly fleeing.

    Watching as the observer, Jiwoon’s chest ached, stabbed with sharp pain. He couldn’t tell what it meant, only that it hurt like his heart was being cleaved by a blade. He felt on the verge of tears.

    Why are they doing that? The one running away — what thought? And the baby in those arms — who? Could that child be ours? The face is hidden, no gender, just a newborn
 who are they?

    A bottomless melancholy weighed on him. Behind, Taecheon sank to his knees, bearing the expression of a man who had lost everything. The clear sky turned grim, and then the rain poured down. Jiwoon swore he felt the chill of wet drops soaking his hair and shoulders.

    “—Haaah!”

    He jolted awake with a gasp. The dark room was stable in temperature and humidity, yet his pounding heart wouldn’t calm, tangled between dream and reality.

    Was that a dream
 or was that reality?

    His chest throbbed as if torn, his eyes stinging. At his stirring, Taecheon rose from beside him.

    “Jiwoon, what is it?”

    Switching on the night‑lamp, Taecheon revealed his face. At once, Jiwoon exhaled shakily — real life, their bedroom, Taecheon here with him. That had been nothing but a nightmare.

    “Ah
 it’s nothing. Just a weird dream.”

    “Your complexion is terrible.”

    Taecheon stroked his cheek gently. Jiwoon’s face pressed against that palm as he burrowed into his embrace. He smelled fragrance, felt his warmth, and heard his steady heartbeat — thump, thump — calming his own.

    “I’m fine. Must’ve been nonsense.”

    “I’m here with you, so don’t worry.”

    “
Thank you.”

    Jiwoon buried deeper into Taecheon’s chest. Yes. That was just some bad dream. Probably stress from Song harassing me today. Just sleep and it’ll pass.

    Taecheon wrapped him tightly, patting his back.

    “I’ll hold you until you sleep.”

    “
Taecheon.”

    He pressed a soft kiss to Jiwoon’s forehead. That warmth melted his unease; peace seeped in.

    Whether thanks to Taecheon’s therapy or not, Jiwoon slept soundly until morning. The next thing that woke him was a delicious smell.

    Ah, this damn appetite. It always wakes me at breakfast time.

    Licking his lips, he sat up. From the kitchen came sizzling sounds of frying and sautĂ©ing. After washing up, he emerged — and found Taecheon waiting with a breakfast spread fit for royalty.

    “You’re awake.”

    “Wow
 so extravagant.”

    “I wanted to make you something nice today.”

    Turning briefly from the pan, Taecheon kissed his cheek, still cooking. The strange dream was forgotten; Jiwoon broke into a big grin.

    “Omelette?”

    “Yes. Spanish style. With tomato sauce and diced bell pepper inside.”

    “Sounds delicious! I really love omelettes!”

    “I know.”

    With practiced movements, Taecheon stirred eggs, rolling them swiftly into a thick scramble formed perfectly with a pair of long chopsticks. Jiwoon watched, impressed.

    “You’re a genius chef.”

    “That’s exaggeration, but I’ll take it. Eat while warm.”

    Sliding the omelette onto a plate, he placed it before Jiwoon, who grabbed knife and fork eagerly. The nutty egg flavor mixed with the tang of tomato — near heavenly.

    “This is incredible.”

    “Thank you, for enjoying it.”

    “Ah, by the way
”

    “Yes?”

    Jiwoon hesitated. Was it right to ask this at breakfast? Last night he had meant to, but hadn’t seen him.

    “Would you
 have time the weekend after next? I’d like to go somewhere together.”

    “If you want me there, I’ll make time, no matter what.”

    Calmly, he dabbed a napkin at Jiwoon’s lips.

    This man really just says things like that with no expression
 If I weren’t already his, someone else would be spoiled by it, and I’d be miserable.

    For a fleeting second, Jiwoon felt jealous of an imaginary rival.

    “But where are we going?”

    “Ah, truth is
 I wanted to visit my grandparents.”

    He smiled faintly. Taecheon quietly touched his hand and nodded.

    “I was thinking the same. I should properly pay my respects.”

    “Really?”

    “Yes. That’s what’s proper, isn’t it?”

    Thrilled by their synchronized thought, Jiwoon realized how considerate he was, keeping his grandparents in mind.

    “The memorial park is in Seongnam, right?”

    “Yes, exactly.”

    “Then, why don’t we also stay at the Seongnam Hotel nearby?”

    “Oh, true. It’s just fifteen minutes from there by taxi
.”

    “You’ve been before?”

    “Yes. Once after visiting Grandma and Grandpa
 I stayed at Seongnam Hotel. Honestly it was expensive for me back then, but since it was the hotel of the company I longed to join, I strained to stay there at least once.”

    Back in the days when he was alone and poor, grieving his grandparents, he still tried to make a hopeful memory — by checking into a Seohwa Group hotel, thinking maybe it would encourage him toward the company he wished to join.

    “
Seongnam Hotel.”

    Taecheon repeated, expression intent, gaze fixed on him.

    “Yes. I have a really fond impression of that place, because
 a very kind employee was there.”

    “
Kind employee?”

    Taecheon leaned in on one elbow, curious. Jiwoon grew livelier in recounting.

    “I was so lonely at night, I went down to the lobby. Walking around, I thought — how nice if I had come with my grandparents. And I broke down crying.”

    “I see.”

    “Then a staff member came, handed me a handkerchief.”

    Jiwoon smiled softly at the memory. That moment — someone had given him a folded, fragrant piece of cloth, in the saddest time of his life. The only things he remembered: the scent, its neat fold, and that the hand that gave it was large and firm.

    “The rooms were nice, facilities elegant — but what matters is that kindness. Because of that, I decided: Even if I flunk this time, I’ll re‑apply to Seohwa Hotels. I must.”

    “So moved, were you.”

    Taecheon smiled gently, endlessly tender.

    “Yes. It was unforgettable kindness.”

    Footnotes:

    1. â€œê°œêżˆ (gae‑ggum)” — In Korean, literally “dog dream,” meaning a meaningless or nonsensical dream not worth interpreting. Jiwoon downplays it this way. 
    2. ìč ìČ©ë°˜ìƒ (Chil‑cheop bansang) — A lavish Korean dining table with seven full courses/small sides, traditionally an extravagant spread. 
    3. Seongnam Hotel anecdote: This recalls Korean cultural practice of “aspirational stays” where a poor job‑seeker might invest savings to stay at a dream company’s hotel for motivation. The “kind staff” memory foreshadows likely that it was Taecheon himself. 

     

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