* * *
At Taehyun’s question, Sejin quietly stared into Taehyun’s face. He raised his eyebrows, meeting Taehyun’s gaze without a hint of malice.
After a brief silence, Sejin responded.
“I might need it too.”
Taehyun furrowed his brow at the short and concise answer. His previously relaxed expression turned into a slight frown.
Why bother? Fencing isn’t even a sport where records matter—why bother at all?
It wasn’t a sport where you competed against your personal best, like in a race.
He wondered why someone who had consistently maintained the top spot would spout such nonsense.
“No, really, you’ve kept your ranking stable for the past four years.
Why do you need anything?”
When Taehyun argued as if to say not to speak nonsense, a more absurd reply came back.
“Have you been keeping track of my ranking?”
“How could I not? Every time there’s an international competition, the sports channels are always talking about you.”
Even a second-grader in elementary school would know about the great fencing prince, Joo Sejin.
When Taehyun looked at Sejin with a face full of suspicion, Sejin continued without blinking.
“I’m not as good as I used to be.”
Now that was absolute nonsense.
Taehyun squinted his eyes and scrunched his face in disbelief.
His usually gentle eyes turned sharp, like a detective who had just found a clue.
“And you’re saying that at only twenty-two?”
But Sejin remained calm, as if nothing could phase him.
“Just checking once, to see how it feels now without any enhancers.”
It was still a nonsensical explanation. Sejin had developed his Alpha traits after meeting Taehyun for the first time at eighteen.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t have paired him, an Omega, with an unstable Alpha who was only eighteen.
It made no sense for someone who hadn’t started their athletic career after their traits emerged to wonder what it would feel like without enhancers.
If you’re going to come up with an excuse, at least make it sound believable.
The words almost slipped out from Taehyun’s mouth.
As Taehyun looked at Sejin with a face full of disbelief, Sejin asked him instead.
“What about you, then?”
There was a lot Taehyun could say about that.
“Hey, in my case, it’s really about performance. There’s a clear difference in my condition when I’m on enhancers and when I’m not because of the competitions. Plus, since this is my last time competing, I don’t want to have any regrets.”
He hadn’t planned to talk about it like this, but the nonsense coming from the other side had brought out his true feelings.
Taehyun’s face felt hot.
His retirement was something everyone could have anticipated, but he hadn’t officially announced it yet.
Whether he won a medal at the last Olympics or not, he had planned it a long time ago.
The main reason was that his ankle couldn’t take it anymore, but there was a bigger reason than that.
Taehyun wasn’t fundamentally suited for competition.
Of course, it felt good to win, but in a match, the moment a winner is decided, a loser is also determined.
Even in victory, Taehyun found it hard to take his eyes off his opponent, who had just been fighting for a win against him.
The reactions of the defeated varied slightly, but there was a certain pattern.
Some got angry, some cried, and others laughed in disbelief.
Among these, the tearful faces made Taehyun the most uncomfortable.
He preferred those who couldn’t control their fighting spirit and tried to attack him even after the match ended.
When the losers showed their tears, even in his victory, Taehyun, who had worked hard himself, could deeply empathize with the effort the opponent must have put in for that fleeting moment.
The burden in his chest felt like a heavy stone that weighed him down every day.
Despite this, he had competed for over ten years, which others might find amusing, but it wasn’t uncommon for one’s natural talent to not perfectly align with their psychological aptitude.
Even if he didn’t particularly enjoy defeating others, he wanted to meet the expectations of those who supported him.
He was pleased with delivering results and satisfying people with them.
So, one last time, he wished to achieve a result that would make the people who had supported and cheered for him proud.
As Taehyun avoided Sejin’s gaze, feeling bitter, Sejin took a step closer and spoke.
“Then, do it with me. The fact that we’ve met before doesn’t mean we can’t be partners now.”
“Oh, come on, you shouldn’t talk like that in a place like this.”
Surprised, Taehyun hurriedly covered Sejin’s mouth.
Feeling the soft texture of Sejin’s thick lips against his palm, Taehyun reflexively pulled his hand away.
Sejin looked puzzled, as if he had no idea what was going on.
“Just get in. I’ll give you a ride.”
Thinking he shouldn’t leave Sejin out on the busy street any longer, Taehyun dragged him back to the hotel parking lot.
As his mind cleared, a strong sense of regret washed over him.
The domestic compact SUV he had been driving for years, which he had received as an award at a competition, had never felt so shabby.
It wasn’t that he lacked money; he could have easily bought a better car on his own dime.
In fact, Taehyun’s mother drove a famous foreign brand, but Taehyun had been content with the car he had received as a prize.
After all, even if he didn’t flaunt it, everyone in Korea knew he wasn’t lacking financially.
People also seemed to appreciate that, for a young guy with so much popularity, he kept things simple.
But seeing Sejin, who was nearly 190 cm tall, trying to fold himself into the small car felt somewhat comical and pathetic.
Sejin, despite being twenty-two now, was still a spiky child in Taehyun’s memory, and he felt somewhat embarrassed to casually offer him a ride in a car that might seem a bit shabby.
“I probably shouldn’t have said, ‘Why don’t you drive your own car when you have so much money?’ earlier.”
It could have easily come back to him as, ‘Why do you drive such a small car when you have so much money?’
After all, Sejin quietly squeezed himself into the cramped passenger seat without commenting on Taehyun’s embarrassment.
The passenger seat had been adjusted to be fully pulled forward, forcing anyone with long legs to sit awkwardly.
This meant the last person who sat there wasn’t particularly tall.
Taehyun wondered who it might have been.
Who had accompanied him in this seat while he drove?
As Sejin remained silent, momentarily lost in curiosity, Taehyun sighed and asked.
“Where’s your house? Give me the address so I can put it in the GPS.”
“…Pyeongchang-dong, Jongno-gu… number 00.”
As soon as he entered the address into the GPS, seeing the cluster of luxury homes, Taehyun clicked his tongue.
It was unlikely that someone who claimed he didn’t need a car lived there for either investment or personal reasons.
It was probably the house of his grandfather, who held a position at a large company.
Taehyun thought this to himself and asked.
“Do you live with your grandfather?”
“No. He’s in a care facility. He says it’s more comfortable there.”
“Then you live with your mom?”
As Taehyun slowly started driving, he asked again, and Sejin denied it again.
“Usually, yes, but my mom often goes on business trips, so I’m mostly alone.”
If you find yourself alone in a spacious house big enough for a large family, you might feel a bit lonely.
Even Taehyun, who considered himself a filial son but not someone who depended on his parents, felt quite lonely when he started living independently after completing his rehabilitation two years ago.
So, he often invited friends over.
In reality, his loneliness was just an excuse; it was closer to the fact that Taehyun liked lively gatherings.
But having lived alone with his mother for a long time, except when he stayed near the training facility provided by his agency for competition preparations, it was inevitable to feel the emptiness when she wasn’t around.
Sejin is different from him. Maybe he even prefers being alone.
However, the 18-year-old Sejin that Taehyun once knew tried to appear calm on the surface, but inside, he was so unstable and fragile that it was hard to ignore him.
Taehyun doubted that the boy had fully matured in just four years.
Can he really handle living alone now?
As these thoughts preoccupied his mind, his car continued to move out of the parking lot on its own inertia.
* * *
