Garden of Joy C6

Chapter 6

What if Heeseo had been honest this morning and told him he was sick?

Hwan would have immediately protested, leaping up and stubbornly insisting that he wouldn’t go to the ceremony. He would have demanded to stay by Heeseo’s side, to summon the royal physician, to do—belatedly and frantically—everything he had failed to do in that hectic stretch of time earlier. Heeseo, who surely knew that better than anyone, had naturally been unable to say a word.

If Hwan hadn’t followed along, he would have gone and sulked anyway—but Heeseo must have judged that even that would be preferable.

Unreliable, yeah. Definitely….

Hwan couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t say he would have acted differently. Realizing that his own wretched self had been so thoroughly confirmed—by none other than Heeseo himself—made his face burn with shame.

And yet, Hwan’s greatest problem was that he had no idea how he was supposed to change.

In his heart, he wanted to be composed, to be mature. He wanted to show only his good side instead of whining childishly, to handle difficult matters smoothly without being told, to protect the person he liked without needing to say a word. Who wouldn’t want that, in front of someone they loved?

But the reality was that whenever Heeseo was involved, Hwan became nothing more than a foolish boy whose world burst into garish colors. His jealousy, his anger—there was far too much of it to name. For all the grand title of “prince,” he was more useless than most ordinary people, capable of less, able to do less.

He was powerless.

All he wanted was to stay by Heeseo’s side a little longer, a little more. If even that was reproached, he truly didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

“…I’ll do better.”

When the anxious murmur slipped out, Heeseo’s silent gaze settled on him once again. It wasn’t a glare like before, but it still hurt enough that Hwan instinctively shrank back.

He had already said those words countless times. Saying them again, right now, only made him afraid of how Heeseo would respond. If Heeseo were to harden his face and tell him that it no longer sounded sincere, Hwan felt he wouldn’t even be able to open his mouth.

He stood there in immaculate ceremonial robes, his hair neatly arranged, more dazzling than ever after rushing straight over from the ceremony—yet in front of Heeseo, he felt unbearably small and shabby.

“…Say something. Heeseo.”

The prolonged silence weighed heavily on him. Sweat seeped into his palms, and Hwan fidgeted helplessly with his damp hands. Then, at last, the mouth Heeseo had stubbornly kept shut finally opened.

“…Who said anything?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you keep saying you’ll do better here? How much better are you planning to be, every time?”

The voice was curt, almost gruff—but the meaning behind it was anything but. Muttering as if to himself, Heeseo abruptly turned his head away, yet the redness blooming around his ears betrayed his embarrassment.

It was far too visible to Hwan, who had lifted his head in a hurry. A small laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it.

Who said anything?

Just moments ago, it had been Heeseo himself who was glaring and scolding him—only to suddenly snap back like this. Hwan found it absurdly funny. He knew he had to reflect on himself, but it seemed Heeseo didn’t want him to become overly dejected either.

“You….”

If it weren’t you, would I even care?

Hwan’s smile deepened.

Heeseo clearly wasn’t oblivious to the reason for that smile. Now not just his ears but his entire face flushed red, he hurriedly added a clumsy explanation.

“I mean—what I’m saying is, you’re already doing well. I’m just saying, let’s try a little harder!”

Hwan found Heeseo unbearably adorable. And grateful.

You’re already doing well.

“There’s no one else who says things like that to me.”

“…Why are you exaggerating like that again?”

Probably embarrassed by the ticklish words, Heeseo grumbled, but the look in Hwan’s eyes only grew deeper as he watched him.

I like you. That side of you.

I do. A lot.

He couldn’t say it.

In the brief moment he closed and reopened his eyes, Hwan barely managed to rein in the feelings that threatened to spill over. Forcing a playful expression onto his face, he suddenly blurted out something completely out of left field.

“Then hold my hand.”

“…What kind of nonsense is that now?”

“It’s not nonsense. It’s effort. I’m trying to do better.”

“…….”

And what exactly did holding hands have to do with that?

Heeseo’s gaze cooled instantly, plainly demanding an explanation. But perhaps his heart had softened after seeing Hwan so unusually crestfallen earlier, because in the end, he sighed and reluctantly held out his hand.

“You really do everything.”

Even as he complained, Hwan smiled brightly and clasped his hand firmly, grateful as always for that mercy.

“See? That way you’ll get better faster.”

“I said I get it, so go.”

“Why do you keep telling me to go? Isn’t that a bit hurtful?”

“…I’m saying it because you shouldn’t get sick too. Listen for once.”

“I’m already doing fine, so I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”

As if he’d never been dejected at all, his spirit and his mouth bounced right back.

Watching Hwan immediately twist the very words he’d used earlier to coax him into an excuse for not listening, Heeseo couldn’t help but click his tongue.

“…I really put my foot in my mouth.”

He spoke as if regretting it, yet he didn’t let go of Hwan’s hand. Fully aware of this inconsistency, Hwan’s soft, satisfied laughter echoed quietly through the room for a while.

The next morning, Hwan appeared looking like an entirely different person.

Saying he had “regained his usual energy” didn’t quite cover it. More than that—dare one say it, even to a prince—he looked inexplicably cheerful, beaming to an almost suspicious degree. Even the fact that it was Monday, and that he had to go to school, didn’t seem capable of dampening his soaring mood.

Well, was there really any other reason?

It’s obvious.

Everyone he encountered pretended not to notice, but they all knew perfectly well that the cause of Hwan’s odd demeanor was none other than Heeseo standing at his side. To be more precise, it was because he’d spent the night happily holding Heeseo’s hand—but even without knowing that much, it was plain enough.

Is he really that happy?

Some people glanced over with such thoughts, making Heeseo’s eyes roll awkwardly in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Heeseo was back on his feet after just one day.

For many people, it truly was a relief. If he had been bedridden for several days, there was no telling what kind of chaos might have erupted somewhere.

Heeseo, for his part, seemed more worried that Hwan might fall ill from staying too close to him—but judging by the sight of Hwan bounding over with his school uniform tie in hand, that concern appeared unfounded.

He looked excessively healthy. Shamelessly so.

Heeseo eyed the tie dangling from Hwan’s hand with displeasure.

“Why are you bringing that here?”

“It looks nicer when you do it.”

“…What.”

“What?”

Habits were frightening things.

Heeseo barely managed to stop the words What nonsense are you spouting? from slipping out. Instead, he shot Hwan a glare, but Hwan only tilted his head with an innocent expression, as if he truly didn’t understand.

He’d brushed off the hands of so-called “professionals” just to say it looks nicer when you do it—and what exactly was a tie supposed to do, become prettier? In short, it was logic Heeseo couldn’t comprehend.

But if they started bickering over who was right here, they would certainly end up late. So, once again, Heeseo concluded that yielding was the more efficient choice.

“Just this once.”

Whispering softly, he took the tie as requested. Hwan watched him with a satisfied smile.

It might have seemed like yet another problem had been neatly resolved as usual—but in fact, a new one arose.

Or rather, it was the sort of thing that was hard to even call a problem, which only made it more troublesome for Heeseo.

The issue was that Hwan was staring far too intently.

Nothing significant had changed overnight. There was nothing that should have changed. Yet Hwan’s persistent gaze traced his face—eyes, nose, lips—one by one, so thoroughly that Heeseo’s fingers kept faltering despite himself.

If they’d been alone, he could have snapped at him to stop staring.

If Hwan had at least said something ridiculous as usual, it might have been laughable.

This seriousness was unfamiliar.

What on earth is he doing?

Though Heeseo looked calm on the surface, Hwan could tell he was flustered. The evidence lay in how often his eyelids fluttered—far more than usual—right in front of him.

The sight was so unbearably cute that laughter threatened to spill out at any second, but Hwan clenched his teeth and held it back with all his might. If he laughed carelessly now, Heeseo would surely glare at him and pull away again.

That’d be a shame.

After all, how hard had it been to get this chance?

Even so, the moment of contact ended all too quickly. After all, tying a tie didn’t take very long. The briefness of it made Hwan restless.

Unaware of this, Heeseo simply admired the neatly tied tie in satisfaction, which only made Hwan feel more wronged.

This wasn’t enough.

And so, almost instinctively, Hwan reached out and caught Heeseo’s hand as it withdrew.

Naturally, Heeseo turned a questioning gaze toward him at the sudden contact. Glad just to feel that touch, Hwan smiled brightly and asked in his usual teasing tone,

“You held my hand and slept last night. Remember?”

As he spoke, he deliberately brushed his thumb over the back of Heeseo’s hand.

Heeseo’s face snapped away in shock at that very moment.