“Hyung. Have you ever cooked with your own hands?”
Yoon Minoh asked, following Yeo Dowoon around. It was a voice filled with conviction that the answer was certainly no. Yeo Dowoon retorted.
“Did you get a Korean cuisine certification or something?”
“I have a Japanese cuisine certification and a Western cuisine certification too.”
“You probably have a con artist certification too.”
“That’s right. I got that one first.”
Yeo Dowoon arrived at the kitchen with this brat who was busy spouting nothing but bullshit every time he opened his mouth clinging to his back, and upon encountering Cha Haseong wearing a newly purchased apron, he sighed.
“…Crazy.”
The red apron he wore last time couldn’t erase Cha Haseong’s beauty either, but wearing the standard black apron, he looked exceptionally outstanding as if he were the signature chef of a renowned restaurant.
“Wow, how fucking smug of you?”
Of course, that sentiment was shattered to pieces before long. It was because Yoon Minoh spoke sarcastically with far more exaggerated admiration.
Looking at just the expression itself, the evaluation of mockery might be more fitting than admiration. Looking at his sneakily scrunched-up expression, one could discern that his intentions were very unpleasant.
“Making a big deal out of something you just throw in a frying pan and stir-fry.”
Yoon Minoh grumbled like a sulking kid.
Since Yeo Dowoon, who wouldn’t fall for the chest enticement, was grinning away at some gigolo bastard just wearing an apron, he had no choice but to burn with blazing jealousy.
“Ack!”
Yeo Dowoon, who pinched and twisted Yoon Minoh’s side, whispered ominously.
“Show respect to Guide-nim, you bastard. Overlooking your rudeness is only up to my limits.”
“Ah…, seriously. Next time just pinch my nipples instead! My sides don’t have any fat so it hurts way more. At least with my chest I’d feel good.”
Yoon Minoh said while patting his abdomen made only of skin and muscle. Yet he still stubbornly didn’t give an answer that he would show respect.
Yeo Dowoon, who had lined up the ingredients he brought on the table in a row, asked in a tense tone.
“Should I prep these for you?”
Then Yoon Minoh immediately pounced as if he’d been waiting for his turn.
“That’s already prepped meat.”
I mean, who would prep marbled beef? If it’s stir-fry, then like a stir-fry dish, you just throw a few ingredients into the frying pan and stir them randomly.
But Yeo Dowoon was being serious all by himself as if challenging the cooking of a lifetime. While wondering whether to try cutting some green onions, Cha Haseong walked over still wearing his apron and picked up the generously packaged meat.
“Play with Minoh-ssi. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“I’ll help you.”
“When all you know is knife skills.”
Actually, last time too, Yeo Dowoon had made a fuss about helping and completely ruined one dish.
The ill-fated masterpiece that even Cha Haseong didn’t dare try to salvage and threw into the food waste bin was dry yet sour and salty, utterly failing to become food fit for human consumption.
“That’s right. Just play around.”
Yoon Minoh took this opportunity to side with Cha Haseong. He seemed to have already thrown the memories of cursing him as a sleazy bastard, an annoying bastard, somewhere toward the horizon.
Yeo Dowoon had no choice but to cross the kitchen threshold.
Then Yoon Minoh pushed him by the back toward the grand piano with its noble appearance. Those were the keys where Cha Haseong, drunk on liquor, had played Christmas carols at dawn.
“Hyung. Can you play piano too?”
Yoon Minoh, who pressed down on Yeo Dowoon’s shoulders to seat him on the piano bench, asked in a voice full of expectation. His hand movements opening the music book with the most unique color among those he’d bought at some point seemed hasty.
Soon he too found an empty spot on the bench and stuck his butt to it, continuing gently.
“I really wanted to try that. Chopsticks March. Every time I saw the kids playing it in the music room, I wanted to join in so badly my fingers were itching.”
“Then you should’ve joined in.”
“Nah, it would’ve hurt my pride. I was kind of like that, you know. The apex predator of the food chain, looking at the little lambs playing Chopsticks March with affectionate eyes.”
Yeo Dowoon criticized Yoon Minoh with an expression like he was going to vomit.
“Aren’t you embarrassed saying that with your own mouth?”
“You’d do it too if someone put a gun to your head.”
“But you’re doing it even without anyone putting a gun to your head.”
Ding ding, Yoon Minoh, who plucked the keys, pouted his lips.
“Can’t you let me win just once…”
When Cha Haseong touched it, harmonies that seemed like they would resonate in paradise were created, but when Yoon Minoh touched it, bizarre funeral music that wouldn’t even be heard in hell was played.
As a chilly silence drifted, Yeo Dowoon let out a deflating balloon sound and slightly rolled his eyes. When this guy who seemed hopeless acted like this, like someone younger, once in a while, he couldn’t help but see him differently.
“Ask the Captain to do it. I don’t even know what Chopsticks March is.”
As the laughter-tinged voice recited without pretense, Yoon Minoh gave a disbelieving retort.
“Where on the Korean Peninsula is there someone who doesn’t know Chopsticks March? Even elementary schoolers can play it.”
“Can’t you just play it nicely with the Captain?”
“With a person I’m close to right in front of me, you want me to go find someone I’m on fucking terrible terms with and ask them to play?”
Complaints followed that besides, wasn’t that old man already snoring away asleep? When Yeo Dowoon showed signs of doubt, Yoon Minoh opened his eyes into triangles as if he’d die of injustice.
“When I went to ask him to order pig’s feet earlier, he was sprawled out sleeping too. He’s a heavy sleeper so he didn’t even know someone came in and left, you know?”
…Kwon Jeonghoo a heavy sleeper? If anything he’s a light sleeper, he’d never be called a heavy sleeper.
Therefore, Yeo Dowoon could immediately tell that he’d pretended to sleep because he didn’t want to deal with Yoon Minoh. That bastard was pettily taking a rest all by himself.
Yeo Dowoon considered inciting Yoon Minoh to go to his room, but changed his mind and murmured.
“I never went to school, so I really don’t know what that is.”
“…What?”
It wasn’t because he wanted to, but because he was born in some small guild and spent most of his adolescence without ever having an identity.
If he started receiving regular education, his being an Esper would be discovered too, so the guild leader who decided it would be better not to send him to school and teach him directly was the one who first taught him Korean and numbers.
If he hadn’t escaped from there and joined Demeter, he’d probably be twice as stupid and idiotic as he is now.
“Don’t I seem ignorant?”
Yeo Dowoon asked while ruffling Yoon Minoh’s disheveled hair.
He didn’t feel embarrassed. Even if he’d properly enrolled in school, his innate intelligence would have remained unchanged.
Yeo Dowoon always hated studying and hated books. Just seeing letters would make him drowsy, and moving his body rather than his brain was much more suitable and interesting for him.
“Hyung, where the fuck are you ignorant!”
So it was a question conveying its literal meaning, but for some reason Yoon Minoh burst into loud exclamations as if he himself was more hurt.
“If you didn’t go to school you’re ignorant? Which fucking loser bastard said that! Bring them here, fuck!”
“……”
“School is, fuck, nothing special. It’s just a place where they herd kids and make them raise hell.”
“But you were even class president there.”
“…I guess I had a talent for raising hell. Anyway!”
Yeo Dowoon burst into laughter at Yoon Minoh’s eyes reddening with a flushed tint.
“Anyway, hyung isn’t ignorant… Why the fuck are you laughing?”
“Haha, hahaha!”
Even trying to hold it in, he couldn’t. Yeo Dowoon covered his eyes while laughing heartily with his shoulders shaking. Yoon Minoh seemed bewildered, but when he was about to tip backward off the chair, he immediately reached out his hand.
It was the moment hot palms supported Yeo Dowoon’s waist. Yeo Dowoon revealed his face like playing peekaboo. The corners of his eyes that had been straight were curved flatly.
“Teach me so I can try it once.”
“……”
“Chopsticks March. I’m asking you to teach me.”
Therefore, Yoon Minoh thought Yeo Dowoon was really something else.
If you’re going to be rude, keep being rude, or if you’re going to be difficult, be difficult to the end.
It’s not like he’s playing with dolls, going back and forth like this and being confusing—how was he supposed to know what rhythm to match his steps to? What am I, God? Buddha?
“…Hyung.”
But ridiculously, he felt satisfaction twice as large as any displeasure.
Because it was exactly as he’d heard.
An S-rank natural-type Esper who uses dual abilities. Arrogant, strong, and charming.
Since he was an exceptional Esper who handled abilities at a level hard to explain if not a chimera, yet wasn’t consumed by them, if he didn’t feel attraction, his masculinity wouldn’t stand.
“Hyung really hasn’t changed at all.”
At the meaningful whisper, Yeo Dowoon raised his eyebrows. Yoon Minoh pulled him up and hugged him tightly. As if letting him hear the sound of his heart that seemed ready to burst.
Yeo Dowoon, who seemed to be quietly embraced, slyly raised his hand and smacked the back of his head.
Whack!
“Ah, seriously!”
