HIS 3

3

But as Jiwoo looked back and forth between Joon, with his blond hair and blue eyes, and Daniel, with his gray hair and dark gray eyes, a sudden question struck him…

Why does Joon have blond hair and blue eyes? Wasn’t he supposed to be East Asian?

“Anything else?”

“Jiwoo doesn’t eat much, so I’m thinking of going out tomorrow. We always get good products delivered, but I think it might be better if I see them in person and buy something right away. May I use the car?”

Why! Why! Why is this only about me?!

As Daniel’s gaze landed on him, Jiwoo quickly pretended not to notice and took a quick sip of the tea in front of him, only to immediately freeze. Damn it, damn it… He’d assumed it had cooled down by now, but it was still way too hot to sip in one go. He couldn’t just spit it out, and swallowing it whole felt impossible too…

“Spit it out.”

Startled, Jiwoo looked up and saw Daniel suddenly in front of him, holding out an empty cup. Before he could think twice, he forced himself to gulp the tea down.

“Ah… Hot…”

He instinctively stuck his tongue out, panting from the heat. He was embarrassed by his own stupidity and by the fact that he’d shown such a ridiculous side of himself in front of someone else. But then again, maybe the more pathetic he looked, the more perfect Joon would seem in comparison. That thought alone made him let out a small, involuntary heh of laughter. 

“You can’t even handle a cup of tea properly…”

As Jiwoo wiped the tears welling in his eyes from the heat, he caught Daniel watching him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and exasperation. Joon had disappeared, probably to fetch some cold water.

“The tea tastes great.”

Was that what he was supposed to say here? What was the right line for a moment like this? Did Ji-yeon ever write a comedy version of her novel?

“Joon’s really good at what he does. He takes care of everything, he’s attentive, caring, and thoughtful. I’m picky with food and don’t eat much, so he worries about me. He even wants to go out to find things I might like… So please, let him go out tomorrow.”

Now was the perfect time to push Joon forward. Thinking back, thanks to Jiwoo’s annoyingly picky appetite, Joon had gotten quite a few chances to go out. There had even been times when, due to a sudden event like his car breaking down, he’d ended up coming back in Daniel’s car. The more Joon was out and about, the higher the chances of them meeting, right?

“Go out tomorrow afternoon.”

Huh? Me? Why? Jiwoo blinked rapidly, confused. Grocery shopping was supposed to be Joon’s job, why was he the one being sent out?

“What kind of meat do you like?”

“Beef.”

Ah… The answer slipped out before Jiwoo could stop it, and he stared blankly, mentally cursing himself. I’m screwed. Of course, he really did like meat. Growing up without much to eat, he’d always had a craving for it. Even after he started earning money, meat was still a luxury, so he usually just went to all-you-can-eat BBQ buffets, since regular cuts were just too expensive.

But that was his story. The Jiwoo in the novel, with his volatile personality and that strangely frail body, didn’t even like meat, preferring fruits instead…

He caught Daniel raising one eyebrow perfectly as he studied him. What the hell? How do you even lift just one eyebrow like that? And why, of all things, did it look so damn good?

“Let’s go with steak.”

Something was going seriously wrong here. Jiwoo had to start thinking fast again. He needed to step aside and set the stage for the two protagonists get closer.

***

He felt like throwing up. That was the exact state Jiwoo was in now.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t come up with a natural way to have Joon and Daniel eat alone together. That’s why he’d brought Joon along with him instead, since Daniel hadn’t said anything about it, either. Jiwoo thought that if they saw each other more often, they’d grow closer and forget about him. Something like the classic “out of sight, out of mind” strategy. His plan was simple: create as many points of contact between them as possible.

At 3 p.m., when most restaurants took their break, a formal meal between Daniel, Jiwoo, and Joon was happening in a fine dining establishment. Sure, for Daniel, this kind of lifestyle was probably routine, and Joon had likely learned the basics of course meals back at Butler School. No, the real issue was Jiwoo, who’d grown up in an orphanage and had never experienced anything like a formal midday feast before.

He was doing his best to read the room and imitate the others as he ate, but it was hard to adjust to these wide plates that came out with portions no bigger than bird feed.

The portions were small, just enough for a single bite, which suited this frail, small-stomached body that clearly wasn’t built for big meals. Jiwoo managed to follow the flow obediently, but by the time the main dish, the steak, arrived, he was already near his limit.

I mean, come on. It didn’t make sense. A bit of soup, some salad, one piece of salmon… How was he already this full? It was insane.

He wanted to cry from how much he still wanted to eat, but just one more bite felt like it might push him into puking. It was the kind of contradiction that made your soul ache.

Picking up a tiny piece of the steak with his fork, Jiwoo inhaled deeply, savoring the smell. If he couldn’t eat much, at least he could smell it. Ignoring the blaring warnings from his body, he shut his eyes and placed the meat in his mouth. The tenderness, the ecstasy of the flavor… 

“So freaking good…”

At this point, it didn’t matter whether the other two were staring at him or not. Jiwoo swore he’d take digestive medicine later, then boldly cut a big piece of steak and, despite everything, ended up finishing the entire thing, dessert included, down to the last bite.

Seriously, was matchmaking Daniel and Joon still the priority in this mess? Who cares! They say even ghosts look good when they die stuffed, and those two were happily chit-chatting over steak like the perfect little couple. Let ’em figure it out themselves.

No. No. Wait, this wasn’t right at all.

Jiwoo, now officially betrayed by his own stomach, kept pressing the space between his thumb and index finger with his cold right hand like that would magically fix things. Of all the dumb things, he didn’t expect to feel full after eating just a few bites. Actually, that hurt his pride. He used to down three packs of instant noodles with cold rice, but noooo, this traitorous body decided now was the time to throw a fit because of a steak… 

Well, he’d ignored this body’s warning because it was just that good, and was paying for it with indigestion. But now, instead of heading home after eating, they’d dragged him to a luxury boutique? Together? Daniel was slouched in an ultra-fluffy single-seat chair, completely absorbed in a work call, while Joon was chatting away with the shop master, Helena, like they were old friends about god knows what. Jiwoo didn’t have the energy to care. He was dying quietly on the sofa across from Daniel, curled up like a wet noodle, rubbing his poor hand like that would distract him from the chaos of indigestion and third-wheeling hell.

He wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest. Just go home, take a digestion pill, crawl under a thick blanket warmed by an electric pad, and sleep it off. That usually did the trick, whether it was a cold, body aches, flu, or a near-death indigestion, a nap like that always helped.

“Jiwoo, would you like to try this on?”

“No, I don’t want to.”

He was feeling awful and tired. Why were they handing him clothes to try on? Jiwoo answered half-heartedly, not even lifting his head.

“I worked hard to get this one, but the size is kind of in-between.”

“I said no.”

A mountain of clothes was already stacked in his dressing room, bigger than the half-basement apartment he and Jiyeon used to share. Most of them still had their tags on. Why were they even buying more?

“Do you not like this one? You asked for it before… Should I look for something else?”

This was beyond annoying. He was sick, why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Joon’s smiling pretty face and voice made him feel like he should grant every request. Eventually, Jiwoo, unable to refuse, reluctantly pushed himself up, swaying unsteadily. 

“So, which one?”

Normally, he wouldn’t act this way, but his body ached, and the weight of self-loathing for being here gnawed at him. As his eyes scanned the rows of clothes on the rolling racks, he furrowed his brows unconsciously.

“Would you try on just these two?”

I’m dying here, you fool. Don’t you have any sense? Since he had no energy and was just standing there crookedly, Helena, who had been fidgeting beside him, quickly approached with a jacket and helped him put it on by threading his arms through the sleeves like a child.

I tried it on, so that’s enough, right? When Jiwoo tried to take it off, Helena quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Since you always buy the same size, I thought it would fit, but I think we need to go down one size. It feels a bit loose around the torso…”

Helena spoke kindly, but Jiwoo roughly shook off her hand away roughly. Why was she grabbing him so suddenly?

He rarely had physical contact with others. Maybe that’s why he was sensitive and even the slightest contact felt invasive, especially when he was unwell.

Somehow, a sharp slap rang out as Jiwoo hit Helena’s hand while shaking it off. The echo bounced through the quiet boutique, drawing every pair of eyes to him.

“I want to go home.”

Surviving mattered most. Whether he helped Daniel and Joon connect or not, my survival and comfort came first. Now, his stomach was twisting violently, the pain felt as if it was being squeezed, and cold sweat was even breaking out. 

Jiwoo left the shop, leaving everyone behind. As soon as he got home in a car driven by Joon, he went to his bedroom and locked the door. In the private bathroom inside his room, he threw up everything inside him and crawled into the cold bed, trembling.

Well, they probably handled the aftermath, he thought.  If Daniel scolds me, I’ll just say I’m not the real Lee Jiwoo.

 He vowed to buy a heated mattress pad first thing tomorrow, these goose blankets weren’t effective. Then, he fell asleep exhausted.

Being alone while sick was quite a miserable thing. He missed Jiyeon, who would sit by his bedside cursing, but still touch his forehead and make sure he took his medicine. He had only now realized how much strength came from knowing someone cared when you were weak and unwell.

When someone comes home, locks the door, and doesn’t come out, isn’t there even one person who comes to check? Not even a single soul?

“This guy had no choice but to become so cold-hearted!”

His body felt better after a deep sleep, but the locked door remained untouched, not a single person had cared or looked after him. As time passed, whenever he faced the life that Jiwoo had lived as a side omega, what he felt was only loneliness rather than happiness.