LA0S | Chapter 29

The words came out slowly, and upon hearing them, Kim Chayoung’s expression briefly brightened before settling back into neutrality. He turned his head and covered his nose and mouth, coughing discreetly before turning around.

Lee Jinha wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling the cold sweat that had gathered there.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Kim Chayoung, who had started walking ahead, turned back when he noticed Lee Jinha hadn’t moved, and came to stand beside him.

“Let’s go. The studio isn’t far from here.”

Breathing in the remnants of spring in the air, Lee Jinha began walking alongside Kim Chayoung.

“Welcome.”

Though he had seen the place when delivering something, this was his first time inside. Slightly nervous, he looked around the living room. There was a large window on one side, a small table, and a comfy-looking sofa. Behind the living room was the kitchen, and rounding the wall were three doors; one was wide open, and two were closed.

“This is my studio. Out of the other two, pick whichever you like.”

Kim Chayoung opened both closed doors. The first room appeared to be a bedroom, with only a large bed inside, and the second looked like a study, complete with a big bookcase and a desk.

“Ah.”

A math textbook was open on the desk, marked with signs of a problem halfway solved—a reminder of old times.

Back in high school, Kim Chayoung would solve math problems whenever he felt stifled or mentally strained. Finding clear answers apparently brought him relief. Lee Jinha had thought it was an exaggeration when a celebrity made a similar claim, but seeing Kim Chayoung, he realized such people did exist.

“I’ll use this room.”

Choosing the room with the desk, the two headed to the kitchen.

“Here’s the fridge, and you’ll find pots and pans in the cabinet. Feel free to use anything.”

“Can I open the fridge?”

“Ah, wait…”

Kim Chayoung started to speak urgently, but Lee Jinha had already opened the refrigerator.

“What do you even eat?”

The inside of the state-of-the-art, four-door refrigerator was shockingly empty, save for a few energy bars and some bottled water. One needs ingredients to cook, after all. Reading the disdain in Lee Jinha’s eyes, Kim Chayoung’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“I told you I don’t come here often. I’ll get groceries tomorrow.”

“Where are the vacuum cleaner and washing machine?”

Since cooking and cleaning were part of the arrangement, he needed to know.

“Both are on the balcony next to the gas range. There’s space there.”

At the rear balcony entrance, a tall stand-up vacuum cleaner was visible, with a drum washer and dryer stacked one atop the other.

“Make yourself at home here. Don’t worry about asking; just use whatever you need.”

“I won’t be here long.”

Lee Jinha muttered softly, and Kim Chayoung shrugged with an indistinct expression.

After the tour of the house, there was nothing left to do. Lee Jinha stood idly in the living room without sitting down, and Kim Chayoung spoke up.

“Want to shower? The bathroom’s that way.”

After showering, Lee Jinha opened the bathroom door to find a set of track pants neatly folded for him—it seemed meant for him to change out of his sweat-drenched clothes. He fiddled with the crisp, new clothes for a while.

During his shower, Kim Chayoung had apparently gone back to his main house, as evidenced by the absence of his sneakers at the entrance. Realizing he was alone, the tension he’d been holding onto dissipated. It had been too much of a day.

Lee Jinha entered the study, which had become his room for the night. It had been a while since he’d had the space to sleep alone. He felt oddly at ease here in Kim Chayoung’s house, indifferent to its usual significance. Lying down without a pillow or blanket, he turned on his side and curled up, hugging his shoulders. As the tension released, a forgotten cold enveloped his body. His teeth chattered, and his body trembled repeatedly. Rubbing his stomach to soothe the nausea helped little; his head felt light and dizzy.

If he had slept at the library today, who knows what might have happened. Was this luck, good or bad?

Even though it was fortunate, a part of him felt uneasy. Why did he always end up showing this side of himself to Kim Chayoung? So much for resolving not to get involved outside of the contest.

He curled up tightly, like a shrimp, and closed his eyes. Sleep washed over him as if it had been waiting.

‘It’s just pity. You’re seeing him because you feel sorry for him.’

A slightly younger-sounding voice echoed in his mind, a memory from one of the most miserable and saddest days.

It’s in the past. It’s gone. He muttered several times until the shock faded.

Then, his whole body ached as if beaten with a bat. Sweating profusely, he felt as if he’d jumped into ice water while naked. A groan escaped through his clenched teeth.

“Ugh…”

“Lee Jinha. Wake up.”

“Thanks.”

The simple word felt inadequate for all that Kim Chayoung had done, but it was all Lee Jinha could manage. Despite the casual dismissal, there was a deep undercurrent of gratitude. Kim Chayoung had always been this way—unhesitatingly reaching out when others might pull back.

“Why? You think I’m overstepping?”

Kim Chayoung’s question was half teasing, half serious, as if he were prepared to retreat at the first sign of discomfort. But Lee Jinha’s response was a soft acknowledgment rather than a rebuff.

Kim Chayoung had been like this since the old days. When others at school kept their distance, he was the one who approached Lee Jinha without hesitation, breaking through the invisible walls that surrounded him. Now, as then, his actions spoke of a concern that went deeper than the superficial layers of daily interactions.

In the silence that followed, the memory of their younger days briefly overlaid the tension of the present. It was a reminder of the genuine connection they shared, which, while complicated, was rooted in a history that couldn’t easily be ignored.

Kim Chayoung, watching Lee Jinha’s subtle reactions, picked up his coat from the sofa. His movements were slow, almost reluctant.

“There’s porridge in the fridge. Heat it up when you wake up.”

“Kim Chayoung.”

The words caught Kim Chayoung as he was about to leave, causing him to pause and turn back.

“Do you ever get tired of caring?” Lee Jinha’s voice was low, carrying a mix of frustration and admiration. It wasn’t an accusation but a genuine question, sparked by the relentless support Kim Chayoung offered, even when it went unasked.

Kim Chayoung smiled, a brief, enigmatic curl of the lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes. But not when it comes to you. Make sure you eat that porridge.”

With that, he left, his departure quiet and unobtrusive. Lee Jinha listened to the soft click of the door closing, a sound that seemed final yet left so much unspoken.

Alone now, Lee Jinha felt the weight of the night’s revelations and Kim Chayoung’s unexpected care. The room felt both emptier and more suffocating without Kim Chayoung’s presence. He moved to the window, peering out into the dark, searching for something beyond the glass that might mirror the turmoil inside him.

The night stretched on, quiet except for the occasional distant sounds of the city at rest. As the adrenaline of illness and confrontation faded, exhaustion crept in, deep and demanding. Lee Jinha returned to his makeshift bed, the coolness of the fever sheet a small comfort against the lingering heat of his skin.

Lying back down, he let his thoughts drift, the earlier tension dissolving into a weary, inescapable drowsiness. The issues of the day, the upcoming contest, their tangled past—all seemed to recede into the background as sleep finally claimed him.

In the solitude of the dark room, the troubles that had seemed so insurmountable felt momentarily lighter. Tomorrow would come, with its challenges and uncertainties, but for now, there was only the quiet, the soft rustle of fabric against skin, and the slow, steady rhythm of his own breathing.

Sleep, when it came, was deep and untroubled, a rare respite in the midst of tumultuous days. As the night gave way to the pale hints of dawn, Lee Jinha slept on, the lines of worry smoothed from his face, a temporary peace settling over him. The troubles of yesterday and the worries of tomorrow could wait. For now, there was only rest, recovery, and the faint, lingering sense of a presence that cared, even when it was no longer there.