* * *

‘Right now, I’m lying by the entrance and just managed to crawl to my bed,’ he remembered Doyoung grumbling earlier. The doctor’s advice echoed in his mind.

‘… he could suffer from weakness or muscle spasms, potentially leading to falls…’

Although the words were slightly altered, the implication was clear: Doyoung could be in danger.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Beom Sinje stepped in, pressing the close button repeatedly.

“Hey, Guild Leader! Beom Sinje!” Yeo Giwon shouted after him, but the doors had already shut.

Without looking back, Beom Sinje continued calling Doyoung, determined.

By the time he reached the underground garage, he still hadn’t heard a response.

Sighing, he called Park Chanoh again.

“Yes, Guild Leader.”

“Where are you?”

“I just arrived.”

“Wait at the entrance.”

When Beom Sinje exited the elevator, the car was already waiting outside.

“To the apartment.”

“Yes, sir.”

No further directions were needed; Beom Sinje only had one place he frequented lately.

Even during the drive, Beom Sinje repeatedly tried to call Doyoung and sent him messages, all of which went unanswered.

“Guild Leader, Yeo Giwon asked where you’re headed. What should I tell him?”

Receiving the text while trying to reach Doyoung again, Beom Sinje replied curtly, “Tell him to focus on his own work.”

As soon as the car stopped, Beom Sinje hesitated briefly before stepping out, muttering a terse response before walking away.

“…Understood.”

Park Chanoh answered slowly, his eyes full of questions, glancing briefly at Beom Sinje’s back before looking down.

[Hunter Park. Beom Sinje went to Doyoung’s, didn’t he? Where is that, huh?]

In fact, the message from Yeo Giwon earlier had carried a similar meaning.

But since Beom Sinje’s boss had clearly decided not to inform him, Chanoh, his personal assistant and driver, had nothing to add.

[He said he’d explain later, and to please focus on your current responsibilities.]

Chanoh’s delivery might not match Beom Sinje’s exact words, but he adapted just enough to keep things polite.

[So he’s deliberately not telling me? What a pain. Tell him to mind his own business for once! That so-called guild master needs to keep his head on straight!]

Reading the message, Park Chanoh felt a resonance he couldn’t openly express.

‘He’s right! I’m curious too—why does the guild master act this way? What’s going on between those two? What exactly is he trying to do?’

Secretly, Chanoh wished Yeo Giwon, who was closer to the guild master personally, might give him some answers.

Meanwhile, Beom Sinje, unaware of his assistant’s curiosity, arrived at Doyoung’s floor, his face tense and serious.

His smartphone was still connected, signaling as he walked briskly to Doyoung’s door, punched in the code, and entered without hesitation.

Scanning the room, he was relieved not to see Doyoung collapsed on the floor; instead, a bag lay discarded nearby.

From inside it came a loud vibration, and Beom Sinje immediately knew it was from his call that kept ringing through.

“Ugh…”

Passing through the entryway, Beom Sinje found Doyoung lying on the living room sofa, not even making it to his bed.

“Ugh… what is this?”

Doyoung winced, opening his eyes. He felt something damp and heavy on his forehead.

“What on earth is this?”

His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been shouting.

With a sigh, he reached up to inspect the item that woke him.

It wasn’t a towel or a washcloth, just a wet rag that felt lukewarm.

‘Why is something like this on my forehead…?’

Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to think about, he tossed it aside.

Then, he remembered something odd.

‘I fell asleep on the living room sofa, so how did I end up on my bed?’

This situation was as confusing as that bizarre time he’d dozed off on the subway while reading a web novel and “transmigrated” into it.

After returning home exhausted from the convenience store, where he’d picked up the much-anticipated merchandise he couldn’t wait to receive, he barely managed to set the package down in an unused room and crashed on the living room sofa.

But now, he was on his bed.

‘It doesn’t seem like a dream.’

He quickly ruled out any possibility that he’d moved himself telekinetically; he was far too weak for that.

‘They say you never miss the water until it’s gone. That saying about frogs not remembering their tadpole days seems to fit here somehow…’

He realized he was parched.

His mouth felt dry, and turning to leave his bed, he spotted a water bottle and glass on the nightstand.

‘…’

He began piecing together that someone must have brought him to his bedroom, placed the rag on his forehead, and prepared drinking water for him.

But who could it have been?

“Park Chanoh, the Hunter?”

If Beom Sinje had sent him back, it was likely.

And, though a slim chance, it could have been…

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

Shaking off the thought of a certain someone, Doyoung picked up the glass just as the person he’d been wondering about appeared through the door.

In the shadow, Beom Sinje’s face appeared, handsome and calm as ever.

“You’re awake. Feeling any better?”

But his voice was oddly soft. It must have been Doyoung’s imagination.

Feeling awkward, Doyoung glanced at the water in his hand, then at Beom Sinje, who had stepped closer.

Apparently, he really was the one who’d brought him here, checked his temperature, and even set the water.

“I feel better after some sleep. But what brings you here?”

He stole a glance at the wall clock.

It was after six, but Sinje had probably been there longer.

“I wanted to check on you.”

Couldn’t he have just called?

Then again, had he done that, Doyoung would probably still be groaning on the sofa.

Perhaps, a thank-you was in order.

‘Still… is this really a case of “causing the illness and offering the cure”?’

After all, wasn’t Beom Sinje the reason he was exhausted to begin with?

Doyoung’s gaze sharpened as he remembered, but just as he was about to say something, he felt a presence draw closer.

“What are you doing?”

A hand pressed against his forehead.

The coolness felt oddly comforting, a relief he couldn’t deny.

“Your fever hasn’t gone down completely. Let’s get you some food and medicine.”

Like a parent calming a child, Beom Sinje withdrew his hand and left the room.

“Ha…”

Left alone, Doyoung let out a faint laugh.

‘He’s so natural at this.’

For a second, Doyoung felt like a child being cared for.

‘Oh, right… he took care of his sick mother for years.’

Doyoung remembered Beom Sinje’s past, when he had cared for his ailing mother as a young boy.

It had been so long ago that Doyoung had nearly forgotten.

‘I wonder if she’s doing well.’

After recruiting Beom Sinje, Doyoung had arranged for his mother’s care in a luxury facility with top doctors, covering all expenses.

But he hadn’t kept up with her progress.

He thought briefly about reaching out to her.

But maybe later—it would be inconvenient if anyone realized he was checking in.

Suddenly, Doyoung smelled something savory.

The door, slightly ajar, allowed a delicious aroma to waft in.

Realizing he felt hungry, Doyoung slowly got out of bed.

Although he felt a little heavy and light-headed, he was used to the feeling and moved without much trouble.

“Why didn’t you just stay in bed? It’s dangerous.”

It seemed Beom Sinje had a sharp sense of hearing, as he immediately turned to Doyoung when he entered the kitchen.

“Is that pine nut porridge?”

Doyoung shrugged as he glanced at the induction stove.

“Yes. I thought it’d be easier for you to eat.”

No matter how he looked at it, it seemed Beom Sinje had made it himself.

If he’d bought it, he would’ve microwaved it, not cooked it.

“Don’t tell me you made this yourself?”

Beom Sinje looked at him as if to ask why not.

“Did you really make it?”

“Yes. It wasn’t difficult.”

“…You’re quite the cook.”

“It’s just porridge. Please, have a seat.”

‘Porridge isn’t that simple.’

Even after living alone for over ten years, Doyoung had never bothered to make it; he always bought it because it was complicated.

Preparing the rice, getting the water ratio right, stirring to prevent burning—all of it was a hassle.

As he watched Beom Sinje shrug it off as nothing, Doyoung felt a mix of admiration and sympathy.

“They say a man who cooks is ideal husband material.”

* * *