Strange?
That was the same answer as when Hwan had set their photo together as his messenger profile picture.
‘What’s so strange about it?’
‘Did he have the same expression then as he does now?’
Biting his lower lip hard at various thoughts that crossed his mind, Hwan stared intently at Huiseo’s face as if observing him. This was to determine whether he was saying this because he truly found it strange or because he disliked it.
But no matter how much he looked, Hwan’s answer was “no” time and time again.
How long had they spent time together? Of course he could tell. And besides, was Huiseo an ordinary person? He was someone who would kick even a prince if he got angry. If such a person truly disliked the prank Hwan had pulled, he surely would have made a disgusted face right away.
Not hesitate for a long time before making the vague excuse that it was “strange.”
‘…Then at least he doesn’t dislike it, does he?’
Hwan leaned on that flimsy hope.
Normally he would have fooled around more, but because of the subtle atmosphere surrounding the two of them, Hwan had no choice but to nod quietly. Still wanting to look cool in the midst of it all, he recited some line he seemed to have seen in a drama or something, making it sound plausible.
“If you say you don’t like it, I won’t do it.”
Then Huiseo, who had been looking at Hwan for a moment, silently turned back toward the book.
***
Watching Huiseo’s back, Hwan belatedly pouted his lips. Thinking about it carefully, he felt quite hurt. “If you don’t like it, I won’t do it”—though of course it was he himself who had said that.
‘Why didn’t he deny it and say he doesn’t dislike it?’
Even if he was criticized for being hurt by every little thing, for being petty, it couldn’t be helped.
He couldn’t help his heart that jumped around unpredictably at every one of Huiseo’s reactions.
But more than that, what was frustrating was that despite all those efforts, Huiseo had once again stuck himself to the desk—in other words, they’d returned to square one. This wasn’t how this situation was supposed to be. So it wasn’t really unreasonable for Hwan’s grumbling to burst out.
“Even so, I won this as a prize. Are you really just going to read books and leave? Am I going to sleep alone?”
Lonely?
When he acted quite dejected, Huiseo, who acted cold but was actually weak to this kind of thing, began to waver. It was obvious enough to see even from his back.
‘He’s wavering.’
This was when he needed to push. With that thought, Hwan even knelt on the bed and spoke seriously.
“I was wrong.”
Was this the right answer after all? Huiseo glanced back sideways. Then, seeing Hwan’s utterly humble posture, his heart seemed to soften a little, and his hesitant words were clearly gentler than before.
“…Then go to sleep first.”
“Why?”
Of course, at Hwan’s dumbfounded question, he showed signs of being troubled again.
So Hwan decided to change tactics now. If he kept hinting around playfully hoping Huiseo would catch on, even staying up all night wouldn’t be enough. Now the only method left was to be direct about what he wanted and push forward.
“Let’s talk about this and that, and then sleep. That’s what I want to do.”
“That’s…”
“Why? This isn’t strange.”
“……”
“…We’re friends.”
Unexpectedly, Hwan’s chest felt heavy as he said that.
That was because, in fact, there was no statement more absurd than this.
Friends?
When he saw him as anything but a friend, pretending otherwise and spouting such things was nothing but deception. It was also a ridiculous sight—unable to resist because of the temptation right before his eyes, walking himself into a deeper trap.
It was obvious that if Huiseo agreed saying “That’s true” and acted nonchalant about it, he would be hurt and upset by himself in his own way and whine about it. And yet he went ahead and said such things—Hwan felt like biting his own tongue.
Thus, he once again became alert to how Huiseo would answer.
To put it simply, Huiseo’s reaction was rather ambiguous.
‘…What is it?’
Even for Hwan, this was an expression with a difficulty level he couldn’t quite grasp.
He seemed relieved for a moment, then pouted his lips slightly, whether out of suspicion or for some other reason. At such a reaction from Huiseo, Hwan was looking at him with an awkward face, unable to decide whether to be happy or sad, when it happened.
Huiseo, who had let out a deep sigh, finally closed his book and stood up, approaching Hwan.
Then he readily said:
“Okay, let’s sleep.”
“…Huh?”
But why did his voice have to crack at this timing of all times?
When did he call him honey and darling? He couldn’t be any less cool even if he tried.
Huiseo, standing beside the bed, looked down at Hwan, who was blushing with shame. Then he chuckled and said teasingly:
“What are you thinking about? Between friends.”
“What am I think…!”
But before Hwan’s words could finish, Huiseo suddenly reached out his hand.
‘…L-like this? So suddenly?’
In that brief moment, all kinds of fantasies unfolded in Hwan’s mind. Because of that, while Huiseo’s hand was approaching, Hwan not only gulped down his saliva but even trembled slightly.
However, regrettably, contrary to Hwan’s expectations, that hand went past him toward the blanket behind him.
“…Huh?”
The blanket? Why again?
While the startled Hwan was blinking, Huiseo took that blanket and made a long line down the middle. To be precise, “between” Hwan and Huiseo. Seeing that, Hwan’s eyes widened even more. He wondered what on earth this was.
Was he saying not to cross over?
‘Is he in elementary school?’
He wondered if Huiseo really thought this would work—it was almost funny.
“You said we’re friends, so why are you making this?”
“…There’s a friend whose pranks are too much.”
“…What happens if I cross over?”
Even knowing that the “friend whose pranks are too much” Huiseo just mentioned was a jab at him, Hwan couldn’t help but slyly ask him that. So Huiseo immediately narrowed his eyes. It seemed to mean, if you’re curious, why don’t you try crossing over.
‘When he does that, isn’t it human nature to take up the challenge?’
Hwan’s finger crept stealthily over the blanket boundary line that Huiseo had carefully made. Then, just as it was about to cross the peak, at that moment, there was a hand that swung down mercilessly.
“Ack!”
At Hwan’s sudden scream, both their shoulders shrank simultaneously in case the sound leaked outside and they got in trouble. Exchanging glances in that tense silence, they were reminded of the old days when they were the notorious troublemakers of Gyeongbokgung Palace.
Eventually, without fail, laughter burst out.
Yet even so, the two continued their bickering.
“Why are you exaggerating? You startled me!”
“I’m not exaggerating! Your hands are so heavy!”
Starting with that, Hwan continued talking with Huiseo for a long time. Half of it was whining and bickering, so it wasn’t quite the harmonious atmosphere Hwan had wanted. But just being able to be together for this long made him very happy.
It finally felt like receiving the “prize” he’d so desperately wanted and begged for.
Then he watched for a long time as Huiseo, exhausted, fell asleep.
He lightly crossed over the blanket line Huiseo had clumsily made and stroked his hair. It was an affectionate, tender touch overflowing with love, quite different from before when he’d pretended to have no lingering attachment and quickly pulled away.
This was only possible because no one else, not even Huiseo, was watching.
After much hesitation near dawn, he even carefully intertwined his fingers with Huiseo’s. Lying side by side like that, perhaps because of the time of day, Hwan felt like he might burst into tears.
Even in the midst of all this, the fact that not a single word could cross even that flimsy blanket line felt somehow sad.
***
It was something from his childhood.
“Then, to change the mood a bit, shall we ask a lighter question this time? I have a question for Third Prince. Your Highness, what is your ideal type?”
At the broadcast reporter’s bright voice, everyone’s eyes turned to young Hwan.
Hwan, who had been spacing out with an empty mind because the conversation the adults were having before was both difficult and uninteresting, looked flustered when a question suddenly flew at him.
But that question was quite mischievous.
Asking an imperial family member like Hwan—moreover, young Hwan—about his “ideal type.”
For a moment, the imperial family elders present felt uncomfortable. Of course, they couldn’t show it outwardly. In that subtle atmosphere, Hwan, who had been rolling his eyes around, quietly asked Second Prince Ho, who was sitting next to him.
“What’s an ideal type?”
“…Someone you like?”
“Aha.”
That was the best explanation Ho, who was also young, could give. The situation didn’t allow for a long explanation either. In any case, Hwan nodded saying he understood, then grabbed the microphone with his small hands and answered with a bright smile.
“Huiseo!”
At that innocent answer, not only the reporter but also Ho, who had just given the explanation, and all the imperial family members opened their eyes wide and stared at him. Only young Hwan was smiling brightly, as if asking what was wrong—it was a funny old story.
‘He said someone I like, so I thought he meant a friend I like or something like that.’
As a child, he’d answered without knowing better, and as he grew up, he naturally learned that wasn’t the meaning. But that didn’t mean Hwan’s answer changed. Eventually, it even reached the point where they would playfully ask and answer each other like a greeting.
“By the way, has Third Prince’s ideal type changed at all?”
“Of course not. For me, it’s only Huiseo with unwavering devotion.”
That time had already become nearly 10 years.
‘But you know.’
He’d said it so diligently, for so long, so why wouldn’t they believe him?
Hwan, who had been caught by an unwelcome guest on his way to the cafeteria with Huiseo during lunch break, thought sullenly.
