NPC Fell onto My Bed C27

Chapter 27

Noah couldn’t tear his eyes away from the city nightscape—his face pressed to the restaurant’s window, as though afraid to blink.

The restaurant, perched high on the 56th floor, was renowned for its breathtaking view of Seoul’s skyline. It was the most scenic of all the places Gu Taeheon knew; reservations were nearly impossible, but he’d relied on an acquaintance’s favor to get in. When he saw Noah’s rapt expression, he smiled in quiet satisfaction.

“Do you like it?”
“…Ah… Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Taeheon. I couldn’t look away. Yes—the view is beautiful.”

Korea. Seoul.
Noah recalled the name of this country and city he’d recently learned. Looking out across Seoul—from its towering height, staring down at the glowing city below—he felt strangely as though he’d stepped into the heavens themselves.

Or perhaps, he thought with wonder, this world already was a kind of heaven.

His eyes drifted up toward the dark sky, then down again where countless neon lights shimmered like captured stars beneath the streets. Placing his palm gently against the spotless window, he murmured,
“I wondered where all this world’s stars had gone… They were hiding beneath the city.”

A memory flickered. Just days ago, he had gone stargazing with Taeheon—to an “observatory,” a place he had never imagined existed. Through the telescope lenses, he’d seen stars up close, glowing beyond measure. Beautiful, yes—but Noah had longed not to see the stars, but to feel them fall. To see the sky spill light like rain.

Tonight, the twinkling constellation below—the electric life of Seoul—pleased him far more than any distant sky.

As Noah stood watching the view, a waiter arrived, pushing a serving cart.
“Excuse me, your starter is ready—mushroom cream soup infused with truffle aroma.”

Noah turned his gaze downward. The cream soup glittered under the soft light; a deep, earthy scent rose from its surface, reminding him of the forest of Tyrel. Nostalgia warmed his empty stomach.

As soon as the waiter left, Noah eagerly picked up his spoon. He lifted the light-textured soup, let it fall once, then stirred slowly and took a large sip.

“…Well? How is it?” Taeheon asked.
He had been waiting, watching Noah taste it, anxious about the comparison. Noah had spoken of missing his world’s starflower cream soup. It might not taste the same, but it had better be close—Taeheon worried it wouldn’t live up to memories of home.

Noah didn’t answer at first. He swirled the spoon, swallowed silently, took a second mouthful, and then turned to Taeheon with shining eyes.
“This… Is this truly the flavor of such a simple soup?”
“So—it suits your taste?”
“It’s not merely suitable. I’ve never tasted soup this wonderful. Even the emperor’s banquet in the royal halls had nothing like this.”

His sincere praise made Taeheon exhale relief. He smiled and finally took a spoon himself.

The creamy texture filled his mouth, fragrant with truffle’s quiet strength—but oddly, he barely tasted it. His focus remained on Noah, on the way he ate, soft delight glowing across his face.

Then came the next courses.

Each dish arrived in succession, fine porcelain set before them, each accompanied by subtle aromas and delicate presentation. Noah’s reactions ranged from wide-eyed shock to giddy applause, hands clapping softly in joy. Taeheon thought the effort of securing the reservation wholly worthwhile.

By the time dessert was served, Noah leaned back, patting his stomach lightly. The portions had seemed small at first, but now he was comfortably full, eyes gleaming with contentment.

Yet, as he shifted, he felt something unfamiliar: a touch of softness where his belly had grown since arriving here. His gaze flicked toward Taeheon—whose physique remained as sharp and honed as ever. Taeheon looked not the least bit full.

“Mr. Taeheon, you’re not full yet, are you?”
“Well… not really. This much doesn’t quite fill me.”

Truth be told, he wasn’t hungry either; he’d eaten enough, even finishing some of the dishes Noah couldn’t.

“In that case, shall I cook for you when we get home?”
“You’ll cook?”
“Yes. I don’t know if we have the same ingredients here, but… when I lived alone in the temple, I often made small treats for myself.”

He smiled sheepishly, eyes curved in warmth. He didn’t have a grand recipe—just a small dish that could maybe fill Taeheon’s appetite more fully.

And so, they agreed to stop by a nearby market before heading back.

When they approached the counter to pay, Noah trailing just behind Taeheon, a sudden voice called out from behind.
“Taeheon.”

Noah turned toward it before Taeheon did. A middle-aged man stood there, slightly older in appearance, his expression firm but familiar.

“…Coach Jung,” Taeheon murmured.
“How’s life treating you?”

The bluntness of the question startled him. How’s life treating you?
Once, Taeheon would have been furious at that question.

Before meeting Noah—when he’d lost judo—nothing about life was bearable. That was why he’d stopped answering messages, stopped seeing his old coach. The mere sight of him had reminded Taeheon of what he’d lost.

“It’s treating me fine,” he said simply.

The coach’s eyes widened a little in surprise. The Taeheon standing before him looked… different—calmer.

“Did PD Kim mention I was coming? I asked him to reserve this place.”
“No, no. I just happened to have a meeting here.”

Jung excused it lightly, but Taeheon knew better. It was concern that had brought him here—plain and simple.

Still, Taeheon felt no urge to talk further. Not tonight. Maybe someday, when he could fight again, he would reach out—but this evening was for Noah alone.

He stepped forward, resting his hand on Noah’s shoulder, drawing him subtly closer. When a waiter pushing a tray nearly collided with them, Taeheon guided Noah gently aside.

Even that simple movement was seamless—the bend of his knee, the turn of his frame—fluid, unbroken strength.

“Let’s set a date soon, Coach.”
“Wait, Taeheon—your leg…”
“I’ll contact you later. I’ll visit soon.”

With that, Taeheon led Noah out.

Inside the elevator on the way down to the parking garage, Noah glanced up.
“Was that someone you knew?”
“My coach—from when I used to train.”
“I see…”

He didn’t entirely understand what a coach was, but context told him enough—it meant someone who had helped him once.

Yet, as the light flickered across them, Noah sensed something tense about Taeheon’s expression. His jaw had tightened; his features gone still.

“Is something wrong?”
“…What?”
“Your face doesn’t look happy.”

Taeheon bit the inside of his cheek. It always happened around Noah—he couldn’t control his expressions. Negative thoughts kept invading.

“…Noah.”
“Yes?”
“When I start doing judo again… will you go back to your world?”

He still wanted to return to that mat—there was no doubt about that.
But if judo meant Noah’s departure… part of him hesitated.

He stopped breathing for a moment, startled by his own thoughts. How could he—someone who’d once wished for death after losing judo—now not want it back?

Then—

“Should I… not go back?”

The question sliced through the air, trembling slightly. Taeheon turned slowly, unable to believe what he had heard.

Noah’s face was flushed, eyes glimmering like melting glass as neon lights from outside painted red and blue across his features.

“If I promise to stay,” he whispered, “would that make you feel better again, Mr. Taeheon?”

There was a technique in judo—the shoulder throw. You grab your opponent’s arm, hoist them across your shoulders, and hurl them into the mat.

When it landed, even on perfectly designed floors, it knocked the wind out—sent the heart dropping into the pit of the chest.

That was exactly what Taeheon felt now: as if his heart had been seized, lifted, and slammed back down again with staggering force.

Every nerve shivered. Something inside him snapped clean in two.

“Noah, I—”

He moved without thinking.

In one furious motion, Taeheon stepped forward, seized Noah’s face in his hands, and bent sharply down—capturing the lips he’d sworn he’d never touch.

He tasted divinity, knowing it was poisoned—the forbidden chalice that no mortal should ever claim.

And he drank deeply anyway.

Footnotes:

1. Lumiera flower (별꽃 / 루미에라) – A plant growing under starlight in Tyrel Forest, used for Noah’s starflower cream soup; symbolizes divine nourishment and comfort. 

Coach Jung – Taeheon’s former judo coach; represents the world of ambition and responsibility Taeheon risked abandoning due to emotional conflict.