24ES | Chapter 6.3

Yesung knew Jung Hageon was someone who could keep his mouth shut. Still, he had assumed that last time’s silence was because Jung Hageon himself had been involved.

“…Why?”

“There’s no reason for me to tell anyone your secrets, Sunbae. Besides, I don’t want to.”

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And why didn’t he want to? As Jung Hageon continued speaking, Yesung’s confusion only deepened. Normally, each answer would resolve one question, but with Jung Hageon, it felt like each answer brought more questions.

Yesung wore a completely bewildered expression, prompting Jung Hageon to sigh lightly and look him straight in the eye.

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“Because I like you, Sunbae. I like you, so it’s natural that I want to keep your secrets to myself. It’s natural to want to monopolize them.”

At the calm yet firm confession, Yesung’s eyes widened little by little until they seemed ready to burst. For the second time now, Jung Hageon had confessed so casually, leaving Yesung utterly speechless.

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His arm, which had been hiding the cigarette behind his back, fell limply to his side. Jung Hageon, who had been leaning casually against the railing, turned to look at Yesung.

Those smooth, dark eyes fixated on him, deep and unwavering. At that moment, Yesung thought those eyes looked like the abyss itself. Then, Jung Hageon spoke again.

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“Why are you hiding it?”

“…Hiding what?”

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“The cigarette. Why are you hiding it?”

Jung Hageon tilted his head in genuine confusion, his expression making it clear he didn’t understand. Letting out a dry laugh, Yesung stepped closer to the railing.

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This question could have shifted attention away from the confession, yet Jung Hageon didn’t seem to care at all. Maybe it was because he already knew the answer, or maybe he just felt satisfied having said his piece. Either way, Yesung wasn’t sure if it was annoying or comforting.

Resting his arms on the railing, Yesung stared into the void.

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“Because I’m a pediatric surgeon. My patients are kids, newborns mostly. If the parents knew I smoked, they wouldn’t look at me the same way.”

“What’s wrong with smoking? Are doctors not human too? My professor is a chain-smoker. He even says he can’t live without cigarettes. Technically, as a cardiothoracic surgeon, he shouldn’t smoke either, right?”

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Wait, what? So Professor Cha from cardiothoracic surgery was a chain-smoker? That wasn’t something he’d needed to know. Still, somehow, it didn’t feel burdensome or heavy. Maybe it was because of the casual way Jung Hageon dismissed it, as if it was no big deal.

The light-hearted way he spoke seemed to ease Yesung’s mind, even drawing a faint smile to his lips.

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“You’re right. I guess Professor Cha should quit too.”

But unlike cardiothoracic surgery, pediatric surgery had a different dynamic. The patients’ guardians were often overly protective, which made things more complicated.

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Raising the hand holding the cigarette, Yesung added, “But I’m not like Professor Cha. I only smoke occasionally. Just one stick when I’m really, really stressed.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

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Jung Hageon nodded earnestly, his face serious. It was strange. The sincerity in his expression was almost laughable, and yet it felt oddly endearing.

Yesung had always kept this habit hidden, guarding it tightly as his secret. Yet, this was the second time Jung Hageon had uncovered it. And for some reason, it didn’t feel entirely unpleasant. If anything, it felt oddly freeing, even light.

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The first time Jung Hageon had found out, Yesung had been irritated and flustered. But now? Maybe he’d developed some kind of immunity.

Struggling to keep his lips from curling into a smile, Yesung let out a small sigh. At that moment, Jung Hageon spoke again.

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“By the way, why did you start smoking?”

With one arm propped against the railing and his head resting in his other hand, Jung Hageon’s gaze bore into him. Yesung found his eyes drawn to the man’s face as he pondered the question.

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“When I lost my first patient. Someone so precious to me. I couldn’t believe it… it hurt so much. That’s when I first tried it.”

In the depths of despair, he’d tried everything people said might ease the pain. Smoking had been one of those things. Reflecting on the memory, Yesung let out a self-deprecating laugh.

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“Someone told me that nothing beats cigarettes when you’re feeling down. So, I tried it… but it didn’t help at all. Not one bit.”

If anything, it made him feel worse. The acrid smoke had filled his lungs, making him cough until his throat burned and tears streamed down his face. He’d ended up collapsing to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

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The pain in his chest hadn’t subsided. Yet somehow, after crying so hard that even his breath came in gasps, the knot of anguish in his chest had loosened.

Maybe that was why, whenever he lost a patient, he instinctively reached for a cigarette—to relive that fleeting sense of relief.

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The bitterness lingered, just like the taste of smoke in his mouth. Staring into the air, lost in thought, Yesung was startled when Jung Hageon suddenly extended his hand toward him.

Looking confused, Yesung turned to him.

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“What are you doing?”

“Can I try it too?”

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“What… wait, are you serious? The cigarette?”

Jung Hageon nodded in response to Yesung’s incredulous question. Surprised, Yesung glanced at the cigarette burning between his fingers, his brows furrowing.

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“…Why? Do you even know how to smoke?”

“I lost a patient today too,” Jung Hageon said, his tone even.

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“…What?”

Caught off guard, Yesung’s expression went blank. But Jung Hageon remained calm, his face steady as always.

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Yesung glanced at Jung Hageon’s scrubs, still wrinkled and stained as if he’d just rushed out of the operating room. It hit him—Jung Hageon had lost his patient but had still run straight to the resuscitation room. What would he have done if the pediatric surgeon present hadn’t been him?

A strange itch tickled Yesung’s fingertips, and he clenched his fists. He asked softly, “What kind of patient was it?”

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“They had a history. Angina¹.”

“Ah…”

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“They collapsed from acute myocardial infarction² while working. They were rushed here, but it was too late. Still, we managed to secure an OR, but the moment we got inside—arrest. We started CPR immediately, but it didn’t work. I ended up pronouncing them dead.”

So that’s how it happened. Jung Hageon explained it all in an unnervingly calm voice. He always seemed composed, making Yesung wonder if he really felt nothing. But that couldn’t have been the case if he was asking for a cigarette.

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Yesung, staring at the cigarette that had burned more than halfway down, silently handed it to him.

Jung Hageon took it without hesitation.

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Cough, cough!

Of course, Yesung had assumed he knew how to smoke since he asked for it. But it should’ve been clear from the awkward way Jung Hageon held it between his thumb and forefinger.

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The moment he inhaled the smoke, Jung Hageon burst into violent coughing fits, his face scrunching in discomfort as his eyes filled with tears.

Yesung knew the feeling all too well. The burning throat, the sharp tightness in the chest, and the reflexive, uncontrollable coughing—it was almost unbearable.

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Clicking his tongue, Yesung reached out and patted Jung Hageon’s back.

“See? Why ask for it if you can’t even smoke? Enough, stop torturing yourself. This stuff’s not worth it. Some things are better left unknown.”

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Yesung grabbed the cigarette from Jung Hageon’s trembling fingers, tossed it to the ground, and stamped it out. Then, digging into his pocket, he pulled out something and placed it in Jung Hageon’s hand.

“Don’t bother trying to pick up bad habits that don’t suit you. Here, this is more your style anyway.”

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It was a lollipop. A stash of them was always tucked in his pockets—a necessity when working with kids.

Jung Hageon, still slightly hunched, stared blankly at the candy in his hand before turning his gaze to Yesung. As if on cue, Yesung sighed and looked up, meeting his eyes.

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“There’s no such thing as better off not knowing, Sunbae. It’s always better to know, no matter what it is.”

Jung Hageon’s tear-filled eyes stared straight into Yesung’s. There was a tinge of melancholy, yes, but the heat in his gaze was anything but sorrowful.

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It was intense, almost scalding, and the sheer force of it made Yesung flinch. Too close, he thought belatedly, realizing just how little distance separated their faces.

As Yesung instinctively stepped back, Jung Hageon closed the gap again in a single stride.

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The breeze that passed between them ruffled their hair, but instead of the sharp, acrid smell of smoke, Yesung’s lungs filled with Jung Hageon’s clean, fresh scent.

Jung Hageon’s lips moved slightly as he spoke.

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“You said smoking is bad, right? So you know it’s harmful, Sunbae.”

With that, he returned the lollipop Yesung had given him, pressing it back into his palm.

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“So, you eat it instead. Unlike me, who suits harmless things like this candy, you look ridiculously good with cigarettes. Annoyingly so, actually.”

His voice sounded oddly sulky, almost petulant. Could it be? Was Jung Hageon actually upset about being told to eat candy? Had his pride been wounded? It wasn’t entirely impossible.

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Yesung, who had been staring at Jung Hageon’s face, lowered his gaze to the lollipop now back in his hand. Slowly blinking, he heard Jung Hageon speak again.

“And if it ever gets too hard, if you really feel like you need to smoke, call me.”

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“…What?” Startled by the sudden suggestion, Yesung reflexively asked.

For once, Jung Hageon looked away first, avoiding his gaze.

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“I’ll shield you. I’ll make sure no one else discovers your secrets, Sunbae. Just call me, and I’ll help.”

The words What makes you think you need to help me? hovered on the tip of Yesung’s tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to say them.

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Cigarettes had been an excellent distraction, a way to shift the topic. It had seemed like a perfect chance to blur the lines of Jung Hageon’s confession. But now Yesung couldn’t shake the feeling that Jung Hageon had planned this from the start.

The confession, which had seemed to fade into the background, came back into sharp focus. Like the steady way Jung Hageon’s gaze locked onto his, it was undeniable and vivid.

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Those smooth, dark pupils held something solid, something unspoken. And as Yesung met that gaze, he felt as though he were being drawn into an unstoppable whirlwind.

So he said nothing.

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Not when Jung Hageon left the rooftop first.

Not even when he was left all alone.

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