Chapter 58: Perhaps It’s Possible
Sleeping in the same bed with someone other than oneself was more burdensome, uncomfortable, and tense than expected. Though Dohyuk barely moved at all, Yeon couldn’t fall asleep just feeling his presence behind his back.
How was it the previous two times he’d slept in Dohyuk’s bed? The first time, he had no memory of it. He’d fallen asleep in a corner of the room, only to wake up on Dohyuk’s bed. The second time, he’d forcibly held onto Dohyuk to prevent him from running away. That had been just as uncomfortable as now, but fatigue had overcome consciousness. He hadn’t been sleeping or eating properly at the time, so he’d nodded off at some point.
But right now, his mind was too clear. He’d rested well at Muryeong using his injury as an excuse, and since leaving with Kang Sunhyuk, he hadn’t been doing much, so his body was too relaxed. He hadn’t been as tense as when staying with Kang Dohyuk. As a result, he simply couldn’t fall asleep.
Unlike last time, Dohyuk wasn’t holding Yeon. He was just lying next to him, and Yeon couldn’t tell whether he was asleep or not, but he wasn’t moving at all. Yeon felt uncomfortable lying straight or facing him, so he turned his back completely, but each time he sensed even the slightest movement, he would flinch.
I think I’d be more comfortable on the floor.
He never thought the day would come when a luxury mattress with soft blankets would feel more uncomfortable than a hard, bare floor.
Dohyuk deliberately exhaled loudly. Yeon flinched visibly. Though pretending to be asleep, Dohyuk was actually watching Yeon’s every reaction with his eyes open in the darkness.
Turning completely toward Yeon, he stretched his arm as if in his sleep and placed it on Yeon’s waist. Yeon didn’t just flinch—his entire body tensed up.
Being this conscious of me makes me want to be really bad.
He smirked at his own thought. Not a woman but a man, and one of unknown identity at that—yet somehow, the more Yeon was conscious of him, the more pleased Dohyuk felt.
He tightened his arm around Yeon’s waist, pulling him closer.
“Um, Kang Dohyuk-ssi…!”
A startled Yeon turned and tried to push Dohyuk away. Dohyuk persisted in pretending to be asleep, and Yeon, seemingly reluctant to wake him, stopped struggling. Still, he carefully tried to push away the arm resting on his waist, wanting to remove it. The more he tried, the more Dohyuk pretended not to notice, pulling Yeon closer into something like an embrace.
“…You’re not really asleep, are you?”
Finding it suspicious, Yeon asked. Dohyuk didn’t answer and kept pretending, and a small sigh could be heard. Having given up resistance, Yeon became docile. Trying to fall asleep somehow, his breathing gradually became regular. After some time passed, he no longer reacted even when Dohyuk moved.
“I can’t tell if you’re overly cautious or not cautious at all.”
Dohyuk muttered, opening his eyes to look at Yeon’s sleeping face. His eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could see all the contours of Yeon’s face. Gazing at that face stirred an odd feeling within him.
At first, he’d thought of him only as a con artist, an irritating and bothersome existence…
Without realizing it, his hand came up to cup Yeon’s cheek. The skin under his palm felt cool. Others might call him cold-blooded and such, but sometimes when Dohyuk looked at Yeon, he felt no human warmth from him.
It was funny. To think that he’d be talking about someone else’s warmth. Having someone by his side during this most vulnerable time was something unimaginable until recently.
He keeps becoming the exception to everything. This guy, Yeon.
For two weeks after sending him back to Muryeong, he kept thinking of him repeatedly. He couldn’t forget Yeon’s face as he ran toward him without a moment’s hesitation, looking so desperate in that brief moment.
How significant must a connection tied by a red thread be for someone to leap in front of death without hesitation? Because he was a client? No, he was certain it wasn’t just that reason.
After investigating Muryeong in detail, he found that shamans dispatched on assignments didn’t die. Occasionally, some didn’t return to Muryeong and disappeared, but there were ambiguous aspects to assuming they had died. He’d thought they viewed shamans merely as a means of making money, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Muyeong, who had come to get Yeon when he was shot, maintained a semblance of respect while still being sharp towards Dohyuk. He didn’t try to hide his accusing gaze, blaming Dohyuk for injuring Yeon, and firmly stated that the assignment was over because Yeon had been hurt.
Muryeong clearly didn’t teach its shamans to risk their lives. So it wasn’t because he was a Muryeong shaman that he tried to save Dohyuk. That left only one reason.
Because Yeon and he were connected by a red thread.
When Yeon first told him this, he had scoffed. He thought, what nonsense, and tried to ignore it. But after the shooting incident, his thoughts changed. Yeon’s actions then, and afterwards—no, even his own obsession and possessiveness towards Yeon since before that—were difficult to comprehend, yet at some point, he’d come to accept them as natural.
Living in the 21st century, such illogical and unscientific things still made him laugh in disbelief. And yet…
“Fate…”
The idea that this person was his fated partner wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The naturally rising certainty that Yeon was his was even satisfying.
Whether it was fate or whatever else didn’t matter. If he could keep him by his side like this, he was willing to use this thing called fate as much as needed.
Dohyuk’s hand moved to Yeon’s nape. Stroking the fragile-looking nape that seemed as if it would break if squeezed, he leaned his upper body closer and pressed his lips against it. The proximity intensified Yeon’s scent.
How could a man have such a pleasant smell? It was different from women’s perfumes or cosmetics. Could it be that this scent only seemed good to him?
“Something must be wrong with my head.”
A hollow laugh escaped at his own thoughts.
“Perhaps… it might be possible.”
In the darkness, Dohyuk’s eyes traced Yeon’s body. Until now, he had never viewed him in a sexual way, but for the first time, he thought that it might be possible to take this person to bed, which made him laugh softly again.
Having no interest in taking advantage of someone while they slept, he closed his eyes while holding Yeon. Dohyuk must have been tired too, because his eyelids grew heavy more easily than expected. After two weeks, it seemed like he could finally sleep properly.
***
Opening his eyes suddenly, Yeon was startled twice—once by the sunlight streaming through the window, and once more by Dohyuk’s face right in front of him. Despite thinking how uncomfortable it was, he had fallen asleep in Dohyuk’s arms. Whether it was an unconscious action while asleep or if he was enjoying Yeon’s reactions, when Dohyuk had put his arm around his waist, Yeon had thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all that night… but those thoughts now seemed absurd, as he’d slept soundly.
Maybe I’m surprisingly thick-skinned? Or if not that…
He raised only his eyes to look at Dohyuk’s face. He didn’t think of himself as particularly resilient. That word suited someone like Sana from Muryeong, not him. When he went out on assignments, he was more sensitive than others, sometimes not sleeping for days, but he was certainly not dull.
Yet by Kang Dohyuk’s side, he had already fallen into deep sleep several times. He’d attached various reasons—because he was tired, because his physical limits had been reached, because he’d overused his abilities—but ultimately, the answer might be “because he was by Kang Dohyuk’s side.”
To others, they’d only known each other for a short time, but to Yeon, he was the person who had dominated his memories throughout his life. Dohyuk was also someone with whom he’d shared many more experiences that Dohyuk himself didn’t know about. That’s why things had been different from the start.
Come to think of it, this seemed to be the first time he’d seen him sleeping. They had shared a bed several times, but each time Yeon woke up, Dohyuk was already perfectly prepared to go out.
So he does sleep after all. He is human. A silly thought made him let out an empty breath.
Up close, he really was flawlessly handsome. If his expression had been just a little softer, if he’d exuded just a little less coldness, women probably wouldn’t have left him alone. If his personality had been just a little more ordinary… if that had been the case, could someone other than Yeon have been entangled in his fate?
That thought left a bitter taste. Despite knowing that he and Dohyuk couldn’t be happy together, it was also impossible to imagine Dohyuk being happy with someone else.
The desperate desire to escape was genuine, but at the same time, he was somewhat reassured by the fact that they were each other’s only fate.
The human heart is truly selfish and narrow. If we were destined to be entangled so persistently, it would have been better if it were a fate where we could make each other happy.
He rolled his eyes to look at his hand. The red thread was still firmly tied around his finger. If a blue thread had been added here… how would their lives have been different?
Imagining the impossible was meaningless. Just as he shook his head and was about to get up, he felt a gaze on him. Dohyuk was watching him, having woken up at some point. Even just after waking, he didn’t look disheveled or groggy.
“If you’re awake, you should just get up…!”
Dohyuk’s hand approached Yeon’s face. The red thread wrapped around his hand was more vivid than ever. While Yeon couldn’t take his eyes off the thread and Dohyuk’s face, the hand stopped just before touching Yeon’s face. A wrinkle briefly formed between his brows, and the approaching hand withdrew.
“Wash up and get ready to go out.”
As if nothing had happened, he got off the bed first and went into the bathroom. Left behind, Yeon just blinked while staring at the bathroom. What was he trying to do?
‘Yeon…’
A voice echoed in his ear, and he felt a large hand cupping his cheek. Haah, he exhaled deeply and shook his head. That wasn’t Kang Dohyuk. No matter how mixed his past life memories were, he shouldn’t confuse them. He and Kang Dohyuk were the same person but also different people.
So it made no sense. The idea of Kang Dohyuk calling his name with a voice full of emotion and caressing his cheek so tenderly was still unimaginable.
