NPC Fell onto My Bed C8

Chapter 08

Hearing the voice outside, dripping with curses, Noah tilted his head in puzzlement.

“Is he truly your friend?”

For Noah, friendship had never included such language. His closest friend, Airon, the advancement guide for the warrior’s path, was boisterous and rough by nature, yet had always treated Noah with care. The handful of friends Noah possessed never exchanged insults—hardly even sharp words.

“…Something like that.”

Gu Taeheon gave a short reply, his eyes still fixed on the door that rattled under the pounding from outside. Then he turned his head slightly and asked Noah,

“Mind if he comes in?”

“This is your home, Taeheon-nim. Please, do as you like. Do not concern yourself with me.”

When Noah answered with a polite, serene smile, Taeheon stopped seeking his opinion. He strode to the entrance. A sound Noah had never heard before clicked, and then—clack—the door swung open.

“You motherfucker! You ill-mannered bastard! Can’t even pick up the phone once to say you’re alive?! What, you lost your leg, not your fingers, you son of a bitch?!”

A stream of curses and shouts came crashing in. Noah flinched, shoulders trembling, and cautiously peeked out to glimpse the guest. More than shock, worry struck him—would such words wound Taeheon?

For though his leg was healed, Noah knew Taeheon’s heart was not. Only a short while ago, he had seen how the man faltered when recalling his sporting days. To call such a person “crippled”—it was something Noah could not comprehend.

“What do you want.”

But Taeheon showed no hurt, only a face of weary annoyance, digging lazily at his ear. Relieved, Noah released a soft sigh.

The guest, striding in with loud steps, at last caught sight of Noah seated quietly in the kitchen.

“You damn—look at the way you talk, like some punk—reporters’ll eat you ali—…Who?”

The man stopped dead, mouth falling open, staring. Startled by the stranger in his friend’s home, Noah rose slightly and placed a hand over his chest in greeting.

“It is an honor to meet you, Taeheon-nim’s friend. I am Hardiel Noah Hildegart. Please, call me simply Noah.”

“What—what the hell—an angel in your house? Wait, did you just call me his friend? Well, yes, I suppose I am, but—”

The man scratched furiously at his scalp, visibly confused. Noah, however, met him with the warm smile he often bestowed upon strangers, a smile suffused with grace and an almost unearthly sanctity. Its power disarmed suspicion as if by divine right.

“…You are beautiful.”

“Spare me the bullshit, Nam Jinwoo.”

Gu Taeheon’s curt interruption cut cleanly across the automatic praise Jinwoo had blurted out, as involuntarily as a dog salivating to a bell. Still, his reaction was natural. Noah’s beauty was faultless, elevated further by the aura of a priest—it gave him an air of mystery, a figure who would rival, perhaps surpass, Taeheon himself in public gaze. Taeheon, already aware of Noah’s extraordinary looks, found it somehow irksome to hear another man voice it.

“I didn’t mean it—I swear it just slipped straight from brain to mouth. Good day, I’m Nam Jinwoo. Har… what? What did you say?”

“Hardiel Noah Hildegart. But do call me Noah.”

As though expecting him not to recall the long name, Noah repeated it with a gentle smile. Jinwoo’s expression once again shifted strangely, bewitched. Taeheon, annoyed, cuffed him on the head.

“Get a grip.”

“No, I mean it—I wasn’t joking! Forgive me, but—what was it again? Ah, they say a man’s memory fails when confronted with too much beauty…”

“Please, call me Noah.”

“Noah! Yes, understood, Noah!”

Finally snapping back to himself, Jinwoo nodded vigorously. Murmuring the name under his breath, he turned to Taeheon and asked,

“But who exactly is he?”

The question was about their relationship. Noah knew it at once and, though outwardly calm, waited with quiet curiosity. Would Taeheon introduce him as a friend, as he once had?

“…A healer.”

“A healer? What, a physical therapist? You’re letting someone work on you at home now? The guy who hates having anyone in his house?”

At Taeheon’s answer, Noah felt a twinge of disappointment. True, he had come to heal Taeheon, but still… he had thought they had grown closer than such a cold title suggested.

“Not physical therapy.”

“Then what?”

“What’s it to you. Why are you here anyway? Got nothing better to do than bother me? Go sleep in your own damn bed.”

He deflected the question, unwilling to explain Noah’s truth, not expecting Jinwoo to believe it—and more than that, unwilling for him to know anything of Noah at all.

“Because I was worried, you asshole! Don’t you see the group chat blowing up, saying you must be dead?”

“I saw the articles.”

Articles proclaiming The end of Gu Taeheon’s career as a judoka. He had seen them more than enough. The journalists had treated the loss of a leg as the loss of his entire life. And indeed, for six months, he had lived much like a man already half-dead.

“An Junhyeok said he told you to try LaC. But then you dropped off the face of the earth.”

“LaC?”

“Last Chronicle, idiot. Can’t believe you never keep up with anything.”

At the mention of his world, Noah’s ears pricked with interest. Taeheon, worried Noah might blurt out his origins, shot him a sharp glance.

“I quit.”

“You played?! You actually played?! Holy shit, I’ve lived to see it—Gu Taeheon gaming. Back in middle school, I begged you to hit a PC bang, but you only went to the dojo!”

Jinwoo laughed at the memory. He, Junhyeok, and Taeheon had been inseparable since middle school. Now, though fame and adulthood had thinned their meetings, their bond was strong enough that Jinwoo had come running to see if Taeheon was alive.

“Hamburgers, huh? Noah, please, help yourself. I’ve eaten already.”

“No, thank you, I just finished.”

Noah rose politely, tidying his chair with the same graceful composure that had Jinwoo staring, mouth agape.

“So, healer. Which field? A doctor of Oriental medicine? My back’s been killing me lately…”

“Quit your nonsense, Jinwoo.”

“I’m not joking! I took leave this week because of it!”

Unlike Junhyeok, who had gone to university, Jinwoo had entered the workforce at nineteen, working production lines. Years of labor had left his back aching, often badly enough to take sick leave.

“And why take leave only to show up at my place?”

“You’ve got a massage chair. Damn, you changed it again? Must be nice, having money to throw around.”

Drooling at the sight of the sleek device by the sofa, Jinwoo collapsed onto it with delight. It was one of many Taeheon had received back when sponsors courted him with gifts. Such days were gone now.

“Ahhh… this is heaven. But seriously, can I even keep working like this? If my back breaks down, I’ll never get married.”

Unlike Taeheon and Junhyeok, both Alphas, Jinwoo was an ordinary Beta—and obsessed with marriage. Yet every relationship he managed lasted less than a month. Taeheon ignored his whining, as always.

Noah, however, listened intently, settling gently onto the sofa.

“It used to ache after a few hours’ work, but now—hell, just bending makes me feel like dying.”

“Stop whining.”

Taeheon scoffed. A life spent in constant exertion had hardened him to pain; Jinwoo’s complaints struck him as pure exaggeration.

But Noah, after a moment’s quiet, spoke.

“Shall I take a look at it for you?”