NPC Fell onto My Bed C9

Chapter 09

“You, Noah-ssi? Truly? Would you really? May I?”

Groaning moments before, Nam Jinwoo now brightened, springing up from the massage chair with shining eyes. He turned to Noah, who was seated gracefully on the sofa, gazing at him with a gentle smile. Their eyes met, and Jinwoo, startled, instinctively cast his gaze downward.

What was that? Why did I just look away?

So this was what it felt like to be overwhelmed by beauty. Nam Jinwoo, an ordinary Beta man, was experiencing something entirely foreign for the first time in his life. Whether it was Noah’s striking appearance or the strange sanctity that seemed to flow from him, Jinwoo could not summon the courage to hold his gaze.

“He’s not sick, Noah. Just ignore him. It’s nothing but whining.”

At that, Noah’s ears pricked. Until now, when it was only the two of them, Taeheon had always addressed him as nothing more than you. But with another present, he finally heard his own name from the man’s lips. Pleased, Noah turned to him with a radiant smile.

“I’m not whining! This time it’s real! I was even considering going to the hospital!”

“Weren’t you the one always shouting that you’d power through with grit and will? And now?”

Taeheon’s head tilted to one side, his expression skeptical.

Nam Jinwoo’s back problems were not new. Every time, Taeheon or An Junhyeok would tell him curtly, Then go to a hospital. And Jinwoo would retort that no self-respecting man would go to the doctor for something so minor—a typical Beta’s bravado.

Now, for him to suddenly act like he was at death’s door, Taeheon could see nothing but exaggeration. Or more precisely: not exaggeration, but a transparent attempt to win over Noah’s guileless kindness.

Taeheon knew Jinwoo too well. Since school days, he had been notorious for being helplessly drawn to beautiful faces.

“I’m dying here, really! Fine, I’ll even pay! I’ll pay, alright? Noah-ssi, you wouldn’t cruelly refuse a patient in need, would you?”

“Nam Jinwoo.”

Taeheon’s voice dropped, dark and low. At once Jinwoo realized he had gone too far. He could feel that infamous temper rising, the one Taeheon never bothered to hide.

He was ready to give up his pleas—after all, Taeheon was the kind who never bent once his mind was set. But just as Jinwoo turned back toward the massage chair, disappointed, a voice as clear as a bell intervened.

“Then, allow me to at least place my hand upon you.”

“P–place your hand…?”

“I only mean to examine where the pain lies. If it proves urgent, I shall offer what aid I can.”

For one blessed with divine grace, simple contact sufficed. A true healer did not need stethoscopes or scans. The moment Noah’s fingertips brushed a wounded body, pain itself revealed its depths.

And so, before the atmosphere could sour further, Noah calmly offered. If it was mere exaggeration, he would know instantly.

“O–oh! Then—ah, no. No, it’s fine.”

Jinwoo almost leapt at the chance, but Taeheon’s heavy gaze upon him stilled his eagerness. That face promised ten punishing rounds on the mat later. Not knowing why his friend was so sensitive, Jinwoo’s quick instincts saved him: he declined.

But not everyone in the room was as quick to catch the mood.

“Do you not also suffer stiffness in the neck?”

“M–my neck? Now that you mention it, perhaps I do.”

“Oh dear, then it is more serious than I thought. When the back is weak, oftentimes the neck follows. Please, sit here, Nam Jinwoo-ssi.”

With one pale hand, Noah gestured to the seat beside him. Jinwoo hesitated, but with a furtive glance at Taeheon, mouthed not my fault and slid nervously into place.

Noah’s expression shifted—gentleness replaced by solemn duty. He looked at Jinwoo with quiet gravity.

“My touch may feel cold, or perhaps warm. If it troubles you, tell me at once.”

“Y–yes. Yes, of course…”

Jinwoo turned, baring his back. Noah, his face earnest, extended his hand.

Having undergone physical therapy before, Jinwoo expected pressure, kneading, questions of whether this or that point hurt.

“…! Hhh—!”

But no. He shuddered violently as long, slender fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. The unexpectedness alone left him breathless.

“Wh–what is this…?”

“Does it pain you?”

Jinwoo forced out a shaky exhale, trying to steady himself. Then he felt it: Noah’s touch. Gentle, tentative, so light it was uncertain whether it was touch at all. Like the wings of a butterfly alighting upon him.

The sensation was uncanny. And as Jinwoo’s face betrayed every flicker of strangeness, Taeheon, standing before them, felt his mood plummet to the ground.

“At least it is no mere exaggeration. You have carried this pain for quite some time.”

“Y–yes, yes! H–how did you know? I’ve been working odd jobs since middle school. My back’s always been bad!”

“You have endured much. Yet the condition is not so grave. It is nothing more than—”

Noah’s words trailed off as light burst forth from his fingertips. The room filled with Jinwoo’s startled gasps.

“Wh–what? What is—what is happening?!”

Strange noises spilled from his lips, unable to articulate the sensation. Facing away, he could not even see the glow enveloping him.

“Does it trouble you?”

“N–no! Not at all! But what is this? It feels… refreshing, perhaps. Or not refreshing—what shall I call it…”

His chin resting on his hand, Jinwoo struggled for words. Neither warmth nor coolness captured it. At last he exclaimed,

“It’s… electric.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

Taeheon barked instantly, his face contorted with irritation. Jinwoo realized he had erred again and quickly stammered,

“S–sorry! But truly, that’s the only word that fits. Noah-ssi, what are you doing to my back? Should I turn around?”

Yet even as Jinwoo apologized, Taeheon could not smooth the scowl from his own face. He knew. He knew that touch, that indescribable sensation. He knew why Jinwoo called it electric.

And he hated it.

Clenching his fists, Taeheon fought down the surge of possessiveness that Noah’s power ignited. Yes, Noah was a healer. Yes, others had surely felt that light before. But to see Jinwoo—Jinwoo—receiving it, that alone was unbearable.

“You may turn—”

“Don’t turn.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Keep your eyes forward. Before I break your neck.”

His warning was sharp, unrestrained. Fine, let him be healed. But Noah’s face—the face that glowed with holy light, the face that made a man feel singular and chosen—that he would not allow Jinwoo to see.

“Shit, your eyes look like they’ll start shooting lasers. Scary bastard.”

“It is finished.”

“Already?!”

Noah withdrew his hand. Jinwoo twisted back, startled, then began turning experimentally from side to side.

“Hm. Like a massage…? Wait. Wait! Why doesn’t it hurt? Why doesn’t it hurt anymore?!”

He groped at his back, bewildered. But the warmth had already faded, leaving no trace of what had passed.

Noah, smiling serenely at Jinwoo’s astonishment, spoke softly.

“I merely prayed with all my heart that you might no longer suffer, Nam Jinwoo-ssi.”