NPC Fell onto My Bed C44

Chapter 44

Gu Taeheon had resolved to return to training, but there was no way he could jump straight into an elite athlete’s routine the very next day.

The first step was to meet the coach he had left waiting. A few days later, having arranged a meeting, Taeheon headed to the restaurant they had agreed on.

Noah accompanied him. Although Noah had offered to wait at home, Taeheon refused.

Since Noah arrived in this world, Taeheon had only been separated from him twice—and both times left scars he never wished to reopen. He had vowed never again to leave Noah alone.

The place they arrived at was a traditional Korean hanok-style fine dining restaurant, partitioned into private rooms. The coach had arrived first and was already waiting when they slid open the paper door.

“Been well?”

“Yeah, I’ve been… Who is this?”

Following Taeheon inside, Noah removed his shoes and entered. The moment the coach’s gaze landed on him, Noah bowed politely. The coach blinked—caught off guard.

“H-hello?”

“He speaks Korean, Coach.”

“Oh? Uh—really? Hello?”

“Yes, hello. It is a pleasure to meet you, Coach Mo—… Coach.”

The coach, flustered, ushered them to sit. The recessed floor seating caught Noah’s attention, and he examined it curiously while the coach kept sneaking glances at him—like he was observing a new species.

“Uh… who is he?”

“My manager. I hired him privately, so you don’t need to mind it.”

“M-manager? You always said you didn’t need one.”

“I do now.”

Taeheon’s clipped tone shut down further inquiry. Just then, attendants in hanbok arrived, setting an elegant array of dishes before them. The spread filled the entire table.

When the staff left, Noah stared at the endless dishes in shock. He had never seen so much food served at once. He wasn’t even sure how one was supposed to eat all of it.

“Anyway—looks like I’ll be seeing you more often, kid. Nice to meet you. I’m Coach Jung Jinman—Coach Jung’s fine.”

“Yes, Coach Jung. The pleasure is mine. I am Hardiel Noah Hildegart.”

“H-Har… Hild… uh—”

“Please call me Noah.”

The coach, who’d spent his life in sports rather than languages, welcomed the simpler name. He then gestured toward the dishes.

“This place is where we come whenever we return from overseas craving Korean food. I’m not sure if it suits your taste, but try it.”

“Ah…”

As Taeheon and the coach lifted their chopsticks, Noah quickly followed. He had become much more used to using them, but it was still slightly awkward—like a child holding them for the first time.

He hesitated, unsure where to begin. Taeheon noticed.

“What’s wrong, Noah?”

“I do not know what to start with. There is… too much.”

He whispered that there was no way he could eat everything. The sheer variety alone overwhelmed him. Just imagining the tastes kept him busy.

Seeing him lost, Taeheon moved first. He picked apart the grilled fish with his chopsticks and placed a neat portion on Noah’s rice.

“Just choose what you want to eat.”

But even as he said so, Taeheon continued feeding Noah dish after dish without giving him the chance to choose—japchae, bean sprouts, a little fish, a bit of rice. It looked less like sharing food and more like he was personally feeding him.

The coach stared, stunned. This was not the Taeheon he knew. If someone said a doppelganger had replaced him, he’d believe it.

“Ahem. So, Taeheon. What did you want to talk about? Calling me like this all of a sudden.”

It had been a while since they’d spoken—and the way things ended back then was far from clean.

Taeheon once believed he’d return to the mat. That if he worked hard in rehab, he could compete again. The coach believed in him, too. They encouraged each other.

But after visiting the best hospitals and hearing the same verdict—you’ll never compete again—distance grew between them.

Then came the day Taeheon forced himself onto the mat again and collapsed helplessly.

After that, he stopped calling. And the coach stopped reaching out, unable to bear the pain in Taeheon’s eyes.

“I’m going to train again, Coach.”

“…What?”

Taeheon placed a round zucchini jeon on Noah’s rice. Noah’s eyes widened with delight—the same look he always wore when discovering a new food he liked.

“I probably can’t make it in time for the Paris Olympics, but I’ll focus on rebuilding this year. Start with domestic tournaments—”

“H-hold on, Taeheon. What are you talking about? Your… your leg?”

Taeheon paused in mid-motion. With a soft click, he set his chopsticks on the rest.

“It’s healed.”

“What? What do you mean? Did you start rehab again?”

“No. The doctor declared me fully recovered.”

“What…”

The coach’s expression crumpled. Was Taeheon playing some cruel joke? He knew he wasn’t the type—but it sounded impossible.

“The doctor said if it healed, it’d be a miracle. So what is this?”

“I’m saying that miracle happened.”

He lifted his chopsticks again and placed bulgogi on Noah’s rice. Noah preferred vegetables, but Taeheon thought he needed more protein.

Taeheon watched Noah carefully chew what he’d given him.

“A miracle came to me too, Coach.”

“…Hah.”

Was it right to call it just a miracle?

At first, he thought Noah was a scammer. Then he saw the ability—and wanted it. He wanted his broken leg healed. But somewhere along the way, he began longing not for Noah’s miracles…

but for Noah.

Noah was joy. Noah was a future. Noah was happiness he’d never had.

“Well… if the doctor said so, I’ll trust it. You worked so hard—you deserve a miracle, yeah.”

“But I won’t rush. I’ve rested too long, so I need to rebuild my feel first.”

While they talked, Noah quietly looked around. Thanks to Taeheon’s diligent effort, he’d tasted most dishes. Now it was his turn.

He reached for japchae—his favorite—and tried to pick it up carefully. But the noodles slipped through his imperfect chopstick grip and fell.

Noah deflated instantly. The chopstick confidence he’d gained crumbled before the slippery noodles.

Taeheon noticed. He picked up the fallen japchae and ate it himself without flinching—as if it were obvious he would.

Noah then looked at Taeheon’s bowl. Taeheon had eaten very little, too busy feeding Noah. Determined, Noah picked up bulgogi and tried to place it on Taeheon’s rice—

“Fire!”

WEEEOOO WEEEOOO—

A startled shout echoed outside, followed by blaring sirens. Acrid smoke seeped in, stinging their noses.