IRNH C64

#64

Though she had encountered telepathy and voice transmission before, Ha-jung didn’t flinch—what amused her more was the sight of Si-hyeon glancing nervously at Taewoon while sheepishly declaring himself broke. A faint smirk tugged her lips.

“Broke bastard.”

“Wha—hey!”

“I’m a salaried worker, with every won accounted for. Guarantee me the pay, and maybe I’ll consider.”

“Urghh…”

Having lived nearly a decade without the concept of a paycheck, his careless words had slipped out without thought. Truly, it just hadn’t crossed his mind. Money had come from quests, not employment. Underlings, when he had them, were ruled not through wages but through force. Cash had never been at the forefront of his thoughts.

So with nothing more to say, and at Ha-jung’s curt dismissal, Si-hyeon trudged gloomily out of her villa like an exile.

…Maybe I should just sneak in illegally? Or… really join the Sahre Guild?

He gripped his head in frustration, standing aimlessly on the cold street. The thought of starting a guild, hiring members—things he had never done—made his brain feel rusted through.

Absurd thoughts even flickered—that perhaps, if he ran, using lightfoot technique constantly, he might reach America on foot within a month.

“Master.”

“Ah—right. Time for food.”

All such thoughts evaporated instantly at Taewoon’s voice. He hadn’t even eaten breakfast that morning, and it was well past 1 p.m. now. He realized his bad habit of forgetting everything while lost in thought, and pulled out his phone.

Where do young people hang out these days… best restaurants nearby…

His fingers danced rapidly over the screen. Soon, something promising appeared, and his frown eased. Grinning faintly, he slapped Taewoon lightly on the back.

“Let’s go! Don’t get lost—stick close.”

At once, he sprinted up the side of a building.

As always, Taewoon followed easily, leaping up beside him in a single bound. When Si-hyeon turned his head to check, Taewoon smiled faintly and kept his focus fixed on him.

So over-cautious, always glancing back to make sure he followed. It was… oddly endearing.

And then the wind shifted—carrying Si-hyeon’s scent across his cheek. Taewoon blinked slowly, eyes locked unwaveringly.

Stifling.

Though he had suppressed it for so long, not wanting to invite rejection, seeing Si-hyeon fuss over him so desperately stoked thirst within him.

For years, the man he watched had ruthlessly severed ties. Countless had tried clinging—but he had cut every one of them without hesitation. That was why Taewoon had vowed to move slowly, carefully.

But now, as circumstances intensified—so too did temptation eat away at resolve.

“Master.”

“Hm? What?”

The word slipped out again. Likely the word he spoke most of all.

And back came that gentle warmth in reply.

Somehow, a little of the suffocation eased. He smiled, shaking his head faintly as if to say, it was nothing.

“…Why’s he suddenly smiling at me like that…?”

Caught off guard by Taewoon’s subtle smile, Si-hyeon stumbled. He turned away, legs working harder, as if to escape his confusion.

More and more often, Taewoon smiled like that. It wasn’t purely innocent—it carried some vague negative emotion. And always, his heart rattled with unease in his chest.

Whenever he looks like that, he feels like someone else entirely.

He wanted to pry, to demand answers. But he bit his tongue. Taewoon was old enough to have secrets of his own. Prying too openly would only make him seem clueless.

Even if it left him a little lonely.

He would gain secrets, make friends, maybe even girlfriends someday. He’d eventually stop leaning so much on him, spend less time by his side.

Si-hyeon needed to get used to it.

Still—family remains. Even if we drift, we’ll see each other forever.

…His chest ached almost sickly. He pressed a palm against his sternum.

[“Due to unforeseen personal reasons, we are closed today. Please check official SNS for further notice.”]

Si-hyeon stared blankly at the crude notice pinned outside the restaurant.

“…SNS?”

The reviews had complained of long lines and waits—but the road here had been strangely quiet. Now he understood. It was closed.

His carefully planned outing was crumbling before it even began.

“…Can’t exactly have gopchang stew instead…”

“Master. What’s that, over there?”

Taewoon pointed toward a brightly lit spot, curiosity unhidden upon his face.

Following his gaze, Si-hyeon saw gaudy neon lights, overlapping bursts of mechanical sound—a game arcade.

“…Pffft!”

Unable to help himself, Si-hyeon laughed.

Still just a kid… the very first thing that drew his curiosity is an arcade.

Of all the cafes and restaurants, nothing had sparked interest—until now. For the first time, excitement flickered blatantly across his face.

“Want to go in?”

Taewoon blinked, then nodded calmly. Trying hard not to grin too much lest he sulk, Si-hyeon led him inside.

The dark interior contrasted wildly with the noonday sun. Walking straight to his old favorite, he dropped several coins into the slot.

God, how much is one round these days… back in my time, it was just 500 won.

It felt criminally expensive—but seeing Taewoon tapping the joystick with genuine curiosity put a smile on his face.

“This is what I played back in the day. I was actually pretty good at it. It’s five rounds per set. I’ll even spot you the first two wins.”

“I don’t really understand, but… however you say, Master.”

“Alright!”

Infected with enthusiasm, he quickly set up the second machine and explained the controls eagerly.

But the trouble was—when the match began, Taewoon played with an intensity Si-hyeon hadn’t expected.

Four losses later, he was trembling in frustration.

“…Don’t stop. One more round.”

Pushing more coins in, he glared at the screen as if facing a real enemy.

He’s lying, right? There’s no way this is his first time…

Round after round—his character pummeled mercilessly, caught in endless combos, health bar untouched.

Finally—

“…Let’s stop.”

The score was 12-2, a brutal humiliation.

He bit his tongue, regretting all his boasts of free victories.

“Master… are you angry?”

“M-me? No… not at all!”

Yet, seeing Taewoon watch him cautiously only deepened his self-loathing.

His boy was too good. Almost unfair.

He stepped outside, vowing never again to brag about physical skill.

“…Still mine. Still amazing—but so damn cheeky.”

Looking around, his nostrils flared at a new scent.

“…Chicken.”

Just across, a restaurant—big and bustling, people at the terrace, delicious fried aroma wafting strong.

Much better than soup. He strode inside.

“Welcome—oh… welcome…”

The cheery greeting faltered the instant the two entered. Si-hyeon cursed inwardly, bowed his head slightly, and hurried to a back table.

“Taewoon, here—wear my cap.”

“…Don’t you think you might be the issue, Master?”

“Eh? Me? Why?”

As soon as they sat down, Si-hyeon tried to shove his cap onto him. Frowning faintly, Taewoon sighed—recalling he’d done the same before.

All he could do… was let out a quiet breath of resignation.