Chapter 9

In truth, Yeongung preferred Western food over Korean cuisine. But after living with Won Iheun, he had grown fond of Korean dishes as well. And he realized—what mattered wasn’t the cuisine, but who he ate with. Iheun’s cooking had always been delicious and beautifully presented, yet what Yeongung loved most was the care and consideration embedded in every dish.

For example, things like this:

“Are there any ingredients you can’t eat? Allergies, perhaps.”

“…Peanuts. Or nuts in general don’t sit well with me. Other than that, I’m not picky.”

Seeing Iheun reach toward the meat, Yeongung quickly cut in.

“My stomach feels heavy today. Let’s go with something light. How about mountain vegetable bibimbap?”

He said it as if it were merely his preference, but it was a menu chosen especially for Iheun, who needed to avoid greasy foods for the time being. He didn’t want the proud man insisting that meat was fine.

He had even intentionally avoided buying meat—yet somehow meat had ended up mixed into the groceries anyway. Courtesy of Cha Hyeon, who had caused the butcher shop to break a historical sales record and earned enough goodwill that the butcher had given them assorted cuts for free.

“Mountain vegetable bibimbap and a simple egg soup. Perfect.”

With the menu decided, Won Iheun began preparing the wild greens—bracken shoots, chamnamul, bellflower root, bean sprouts—seasoning and mixing each one in turn. He was still dressed in his guild uniform, the same attire he wore when he returned from work. Yeongung suddenly recalled that he had put the apron on him before he even had the chance to change into comfortable indoor clothes.

“You should change. You look uncomfortable.”

“No need. Hunter Yeongung looks like he’s starving. Come here and roll up my sleeves.”

Without complaint, Yeongung approached and unbuttoned the cuffs, folding the sleeves neatly up to the elbow. As those long, pale fingers brushed against his arm, Iheun’s forearm muscles flexed and relaxed—firm, controlled motions that were strangely, absurdly sensual.

Who looks this sexy just mixing vegetables?

Following the movement of those well-defined muscles with his eyes, Yeongung flinched when Iheun asked teasingly:

“You’re the one who added a ‘no physical contact’ clause to the contract, right?”

It felt like his private thoughts had been exposed. Startled, he snatched his hands back.

“Y—you crazy bastard! You told me to roll your sleeves up!”

Iheun simply handed him two eggs and pointed at the induction stove.

“Fry two eggs. You can handle at least that much, right?”

“Tch. Obviously!”

But his actions failed to support his confidence. Iheun wordlessly took away the olive oil bottle.

“Are you deep-frying chicken? Why is there this much oil for a single fried egg…”

“…It’s not one, it’s two.”

“…Good grief.”

Of course, even a cooking-illiterate like Yeongung could fry an egg properly. But the moment he saw the olive oil, a different, indecent memory flashed in his mind—flustering him enough that he accidentally poured too much.

“Fuck this, I’m done! Do it yourself. You always did anyway.”

His cheeks flaming, Yeongung stormed out of the kitchen, hiding his embarrassment behind irritation.

When was the last time they slept together? He couldn’t recall the exact date. It was the longest they had ever been abstinent.

Maybe that was why. Neglected for so long, his body reacted like that of an adolescent boy—overly sensitive, easily ignited by trivial stimuli.

And truthfully, in the past, he had rarely been allowed enough time to get flustered before Iheun simply pounced on him.

“Sit quietly on the sofa. Don’t get into trouble.”

“Do I look like a dog? I don’t just sit because someone tells me to.”

Despite the grumbling, he headed to the living room. And—in a small gesture of rebellious compliance—sat on the floor rather than the sofa. If he had to obey, he’d at least twist it a little.

Resting his chin on his knees, Yeongung watched Iheun move about the kitchen with steady precision. Without asking, the man located seasonings, utensils, and cookware with ease.

He remembered the layout of this kitchen perfectly. The realization hit Yeongung again:

Won Iheun had forgotten everything except him.

A heart floating weightlessly plunged back to earth in an instant.

“…Damn bastard. Son of a bitch.”

Unable to bear the sight any longer, he climbed onto the sofa and turned his back to Iheun. Curled up facing the backrest, he whispered to the child in his belly:

“Creamie… your dad might be a little lonely…”

Won Iheun finished arranging the final toppings, completing two beautifully presented bowls of mountain vegetable bibimbap.

Silence settled after the cooking was done. Turning toward the living room, he found his partner. While he had busied himself upholding the contract terms, the other party had drifted off comfortably into dreamland.

Step. Step.

He approached, standing over the sleeping figure, then gently rolled Yeongung from facing away into facing him.

Being turned away from him moments ago was…

“…Annoying.”

He lifted the sleeping man into his arms.

“…Distracting.”

The second clause of the Memory Recovery Cooperation Contract stated:

“The two parties shall eat at least one meal together daily.”

Yet this Omega—who had shoved the awkward, half-baked contract into his hands—had broken a clause on the very first day.

“Well… half the clause was fulfilled, so I suppose that counts.”

As if responding to the warmth cradling him, Yeongung burrowed deeper into the Alpha’s chest.

“Shh. Keep sleeping.”

Iheun laid him on his bed and pulled the thick duvet up to the man’s chest. Then he removed his socks, letting his toes peek out from under the blanket. Finally, he turned on the air conditioner, adjusting the room to a cool, comfortable temperature.

He reached out to brush back the long bangs covering the sleeping face—then hesitated.

Had he always done this before losing his memories?

His unconscious habits of caring for Yeongung came so naturally it startled him.

“…Strange person.”

Ever since waking from his coma, he had found this man peculiarly unusual. A powerhouse strong enough to earn the title of Absolute Hunter, yet utterly hopeless in everyday life—a man who required endless tending.

As he reached out again, Yeongung instinctively rubbed his cheek into Iheun’s palm; the soft, plush skin pressed eagerly against his calloused hand. Iheun suppressed the sudden swell of desire.

“If this was your trick to get my attention, it worked.”

It felt as though a new preference had awakened in him. The thrill of filling the Omega’s vulnerable gaps with his own touch… the sight of him relying on him… it stoked something dark and possessive.

And the thought of Yeongung brushing that same soft cheek against another Alpha’s hand…

A violent surge of killing intent flared before he could stop it.

Crack.

The trash bag he held crumpled loudly in his grip.

‘Peanuts and nuts don’t sit well with me. Other than that, I’m fine.’

He had begun a strict diet earlier—while recovering—to regain his lost muscle mass. As a result, there was a considerable stock of nuts in the penthouse. Hearing about Yeongung’s allergy, Iheun swept all of them into the trash bag immediately after cooking.

Even indirect exposure might cause harm, he thought. And he had this strange, vivid sense that he had once seen Yeongung suffer from an allergic reaction before.

A déjà vu—

an event he had never lived, yet felt intimately familiar.

Like an old film flickering faintly in the back of his mind.

“Ghh—…!”

The more he tried to recall, the sharper the agony stabbed into his skull. Even activating his healing ability did nothing to dull the pain. It felt like cockroaches were crawling through his brain, gnawing from the inside.

He pushed back with sheer will, trying to expel the writhing black mass inside him.

But the thing only mocked him. It burrowed deeper, tormenting him further. The pressure in his head spiked; burst capillaries stained the whites of his eyes blood-red.

And now, greedily, that black mass sought to devour even the new memories of Yeongung formed today.

“Mmh…”

Wrapped in the soft goose-down duvet, Yeongung murmured in his sleep.

“I can’t let you see me like this.”

With ruthless resolve, Iheun drove the tip of a fountain pen into his own thigh and twisted. Blood seeped down his leg as pain shocked his mind into clarity.

Gathering his mana, he condensed it into a tight sphere. As an immeasurable-rank Hunter—beyond S-rank—his mana was fundamentally different from that of ordinary Hunters.

Gold-lit mana clashed violently with the black entity inside him. The shockwaves tore through his still-recovering organs, wringing agony from his body, yet he endured.

If the clash continued, his body—the vessel—would shatter.

On the edge of collapse, the black mass suddenly fragmented, dispersing.

Not disappearing—merely scattering itself throughout his body, hiding.

After the tempest passed, Iheun sagged forward, drenched in sweat, breathing raggedly.

Ever since waking, he had been fighting this lonely battle. The parasite within him targeted only fragments of memory related to Yeongung.

Even after combing through every academic database, he found no information on a monster that survived by devouring memories.

What exactly was Yeongung to him?

Labeling him a mere former sex partner felt… wrong.

There were too many inconsistencies, too many instincts pulling at him.

And since there were no alternatives, he decided he would play along—at least partly—with Yeongung’s insistence on recovering his memories.

“A losing bargain, indeed.”

‘It doesn’t add up. Let’s extend the contract period.’

A sentence—his own voice—flickered through his mind.

“…So I’ve said something like that before.”

Unaware of his turmoil, the deeply sleeping Yeongung looked irritatingly peaceful. Iheun lightly tapped the bridge of that high nose—just enough not to wake him.

Feeling the faint fuzz on his fingertip, a curious thought crossed his mind.

Would he have hair there as well…?

His gaze slipped past the duvet, imagining.

But the sweetest bite is best saved for last. He decided to leave that little curiosity for his future self. With effort, he straightened up, setting aside thoughts that would make Yeongung faint if he knew.

“For everything I’ve suffered… I’ll collect twice as much in return. Be ready.”

Cleaning the bloodstains and debris, he headed toward the bathroom.