Double Junk - 163

Seokju furrowed his brow, unsure of what Ajin meant by “late.” Ajin tilted his head slightly and asked again.

“Secretary Kang, you’re… my secretary, right?”

“Yes.”

Ajin pouted slightly. Secretary? He wasn’t exactly sure what a secretary’s job was. In the world he came from, such a profession wasn’t common. Based on what he had observed in the past few days, Secretary Kang seemed to occupy a position similar to Myeongjin’s—assisting the leader, Seokju.

As Ajin internally debated, questioned, and organized his thoughts, he fixed Seokju with a sharp gaze, almost like a detective interrogating a suspect. Seokju met his suspicious stare with his characteristic composed expression.

“Secretary Kang.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you know me?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you know me or not?”

“…I do.”

“You do? What exactly do you know?”

“I know everything, from your family relations to personal preferences like your favorite foods, hobbies, and skills. Of course, I also know official details, like your resident registration number and full personal information.”

Ajin blinked rapidly. That wasn’t what he meant. He wasn’t asking about his current self but his identity from roughly seventy years ago. Frustrated, Ajin rubbed his temples. Suddenly, a wave of heat surged within him. Despite the air conditioner cooling the room to winter-like temperatures, he felt hot. But it wasn’t a heat that could be eased by adjusting the temperature.

Ajin, fidgeting with irritation, lazily asked again in a drawn-out tone, “No, I mean, um… how long have you… known me?”

“Oh, if you mean that—”

Before Seokju could finish his sentence, a loud growl broke the silence. Embarrassed, Ajin flinched and pulled the blanket over his stomach. Though he knew it wouldn’t help, it was all he could do. He worried that Seokju might tease or mock him, but instead, Seokju’s face unexpectedly softened with concern.

“Shall I bring you something to eat?”

Ajin nodded slowly and hesitantly. Without hesitation, Seokju stood up and walked toward the door. Watching him, Ajin swung his legs off the bed and stopped him.

“Uh… Are you going to the kitchen yourself?”

“Yes.”

“…”

Ajin opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it. A leader shouldn’t set foot in the kitchen, he thought, but quickly realized this world didn’t hold the same views.

Besides, wasn’t Seokju his secretary? In broader terms, that was almost like being a servant. Surely, bringing out a meal wasn’t too much to ask. After all, when else would Ajin get the chance to have Seokju act as his subordinate?

Shaking his head as if it were no big deal, Ajin waved him off. Seokju left with a brief assurance to wait, shutting the door softly behind him. The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of the air conditioner.

Ajin sat idly, waiting for Seokju to return. Naturally, his gaze wandered around the room.

“Why have such a big room if you’re not going to put anything in it…?”

The room was overly plain. It contained only the essentials: a bed, a sofa, a desk, and a wall-length cabinet. The cabinet was filled with mysterious figurines. Dozens of them stood neatly lined up, illuminated by a gentle golden light. Curious, Ajin approached the cabinet slowly.

“Playing with dolls at 27…?”

Was Seokju some kind of spoiled nobleman? Yet, upon closer inspection, these weren’t crude toys for children. They were human-shaped machines, glossy and glowing faintly from their eyes and chests. They must have been expensive, high-end collectibles.

There were also numerous intricate car models, each detailed enough to appear as if the doors could really open. The headlights even lit up, further proof of their exceptional craftsmanship.

“Well, they do look cool.”

Ajin tapped the glass lightly before scanning the room again. The carpet, lighting, strange statues, and wheeled flat boards gave the space a cohesive feel. Still, to Ajin, it seemed empty.

“A lacquered wardrobe would look good here. Maybe add some floral wallpaper too.”

Imagining a large, built-in lacquered cabinet filling one wall, Ajin surveyed the room with newfound imagination.

“But why isn’t there a single photograph?”

Ajin swayed side to side as he mumbled. With such a beautiful mother and siblings as close as his were said to be, there ought to be photos on display. Even in Seokju’s old room, there were group photos with his comrades.

Did people stop taking photos in the future? Or had the concept of photography disappeared entirely?

As Ajin roamed the room, he spotted a door. Turning the handle, he was greeted by a fragrant scent. It was a bathroom. He felt along the wall for a switch and turned on the light, which brightly illuminated the space.

“Wow…”

The bathroom was spacious, decorated with a mix of soft marble and gold accents. The bathtub was as big as a bed, and there was a separate area for standing showers. The room had two sinks, and its white floors, beige walls, and gold fixtures gave it an air of luxury.

“So, this is what a rich family’s bathroom looks like…”

Ajin rounded his lips into a small circle and explored the bathroom, muttering “hoh” and “wow” to himself.

“Body… lotion… Lotion? Oh, lo-shun? But what does ‘body’ mean? And this? ‘Scrub’… ‘Cleansing… foam’? ‘Essence’?”

He had no idea what these items were, but the bottles were all beautifully designed. They smelled good too. If someone used all this on their skin, Ajin thought, a fly might land on them and just slide right off.

“But seriously, why all the foreign words when perfectly good Korean ones exist? Tsk, tsk…”

He felt illiterate despite being able to read the words. Clicking his tongue like a stern old nobleman, Ajin left the bathroom, only to accidentally catch sight of himself in the mirror. Or rather, his reflection in the mirror.

Ajin didn’t particularly care about his appearance. The only times he looked into the mirror were in the mornings and evenings while washing up. Still, he knew what he looked like. He wasn’t confident enough to judge whether he was handsome or not, but he was well aware of his features.

The face reflected in the mirror was the same one he knew. It was undoubtedly identical, yet… subtly different. While others might not notice, Ajin could tell immediately. It confirmed that he was truly in someone else’s body.

Ajin stepped closer to the mirror, inspecting his face from various angles to determine what had changed.

The skin was unusually radiant. It was pale and flawless, as if it had never been exposed to sunlight—not in a sickly way, but in a way that suggested he had been raised in luxury. His hair was glossy, his lips smooth without a hint of chapping, and his eyebrows were neatly shaped.

His earlobes even had tiny piercings—the marks left by earrings usually worn by women.

Ajin tugged at his earlobes, feeling the small holes.
“Did he really wear earrings? A guy?”

Ajin frowned deeply. What kind of person was this body’s owner? Back in his time, such a thing would have been unthinkable. Clicking his tongue, he happened to notice his own wrists in the mirror.

“……”

Ajin flipped both his wrists over, revealing the pale skin where faint blue veins showed through. They were just as clean and soft as the rest of his body. The deep scars he once had from slashing his wrist—so bad the doctor said he’d carry them for life—were gone.

Ajin pulled up his pants to check his knees, jumped up and down on the spot, and even took off his T-shirt, curious about any bullet wounds.

And sure enough—

“Nothing.”

His body was pristine. There were no scars on his chest. He could still vividly remember the sensation of the bullet tearing through his abdomen after piercing Seokju, but there wasn’t a mark.

More than that, his physique was strangely… well-built. While not as muscular as the members of the Taeho faction, his chest and abdomen were toned. There wasn’t much fat, and his muscles weren’t large enough to call him manly or a general’s material, but compared to his previous body, this one was far more impressive.

“Huh…” Ajin inspected himself with a newfound curiosity. But then, another figure appeared in the mirror.

“……”

It was Seokju. He was standing at the bathroom door. He wasn’t peeking—Ajin had left the door wide open, so there was no avoiding it.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Seokju’s gaze flickered downward briefly before returning to Ajin’s face. In that fleeting moment, his dark eyes caught Ajin’s prominent collarbones, pink-tinted n1pples, subtly toned abs, and the small, hollow navel before moving back up.

Ajin blinked, momentarily stunned, then scrambled to put his clothes back on.

His ears flushed red with embarrassment. He didn’t even want to guess what Seokju might think of him. It was humiliating, mortifying. Even if it had been the Seokju from his past life who saw this, he would’ve felt ashamed.

But no matter how much he wrestled with his shirt, he couldn’t get his head through the hole. He had shoved his head into a sleeve by mistake.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! Ajin cursed internally as he flailed under the shirt. He heard footsteps approaching. Through the fabric, he saw Seokju’s silhouette draw closer. Then, a hand rested lightly on top of his head.

Seokju grabbed the stretched-out shirt and effortlessly adjusted it. Soon, Ajin’s head popped out through the proper hole.

His hair was sticking up in all directions. Seokju instinctively reached out to fix it but stopped, recalling how Ajin had recoiled from his touch earlier. He lowered his hand.

“Let’s eat before you shower,” Seokju said calmly before leaving the bathroom.

Ajin stared after him for a moment, then hurried to follow.

A square wooden tray was set on the coffee table, laden with white rice, cool cucumber soup, grilled eel, braised short ribs, and an assortment of side dishes. It was an impressive spread for 3 a.m.

“Did you make this yourself?” Ajin asked as he sat down in front of the table. Seokju, sitting to the side, shook his head.

“No. We have someone who handles cooking. They’ve already gone home for the day, so I just reheated it.”

“Ah…”

Right, in a house this big, there was bound to be staff. Of course, there would be someone dedicated to kitchen work. Seokju wouldn’t need to bother with cooking or fetching ingredients.

Not that it mattered to Ajin whether he did or didn’t. Why was he even thinking about it?