Double Junk - 182

Ajin made a soft “hoh” sound, his lips forming a small circle as he once again glanced around the room. He liked the house. The hanok was good, but this place felt much more futuristic—very much 2023. Later, he would learn that the house had been decorated entirely to suit his taste. There was no way he wouldn’t like it.

Seokju finished wrapping a wide bandage around Ajin’s wrist and began tidying up the first-aid kit.

“I told the Chairman you’d stay here tonight. I thought it might worry him if you went home injured. We’ll head back to the main house tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Your watch looks fine, but I’ll send it for repairs just in case.”

“Okay.”

Ajin nodded firmly, a faint smile on his face. This casual tone from Seokju—without the usual formalities—felt novel, almost like a dream. He particularly liked how Seokju now called him “Ajin” instead of using a formal title.

“Alright, time for bed,” Seokju said, standing up. Ajin looked up at him blankly, his expression asking, Where? How? Seokju carefully grabbed Ajin’s uninjured wrist and helped him stand. Ajin trailed after him like a puppy.

They arrived at a room Ajin didn’t recognize. It was just as spacious as his room at the main house, with one wall made entirely of glass, and three air conditioners installed. The bed and TV were massive, and there was a long black sofa as well.

The room had two additional doors aside from the entrance—one leading to a bathroom and the other to a walk-in closet. Near the closet entrance were piles of shopping bags and boxes, all unopened.

Behind the sofa was a built-in shelf filled with photographs. They were family photos. Ajin had wondered why there hadn’t been a single photo in his room at the main house. It seemed they had all been brought here. Among the photos, Seokju’s face occasionally appeared.

By the door, a golden-lit cabinet held what looked like car keys, neatly hung in rows. There seemed to be at least a dozen of them.

As Ajin stood staring blankly around the room, Seokju turned on the air conditioner, placed a half-thawed bottle of water on the bedside table, and prepared the bed. He flicked his head to the side, motioning for Ajin to lie down.

Ajin awkwardly lay down on the bed. Seokju pulled the blanket up to his waist, dimmed the lights, and picked up the air conditioner remote to double-check the temperature. His movements were practiced, familiar. He had done the same at the main house, but here it felt even more attentive. His expression, too, was more relaxed—it was clear that he found this house comfortable.

“Sleep well. If you need anything, just call me. My room is right next door,” Seokju said, gesturing to the left to indicate his room’s location. Then, he swept Ajin’s hair back with a large hand and turned away. As he walked off, Ajin, staring after him intently, murmured like he was talking to himself.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Seokju froze mid-step. He turned halfway, looking at Ajin. Ajin’s lips moved slightly, his eyes wide and earnest.

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Seokju pressed his lips tightly together, his dark eyes sinking. He didn’t answer right away, his silence leaning toward refusal. Feeling anxious, Ajin tapped the empty spot next to him on the bed.

“No, I mean, sleep with me. Anyway, I remember that when it got too hot for me, we used to sleep together. I remember that.”

Ajin vividly recalled barging into Seokju’s room with his pillow in hand in his dreams. Seokju had been reluctant but ultimately took him in, holding him and helping him sleep. Ajin needed that comfort now.

“I’m sleepy, but I don’t want to sleep. I’m scared.”

“……”

“If I sleep alone, I’ll have bad dreams.”

“……”

“I… I know someone similar to that employee, and… well, it’s not a good memory, so…”

Ajin ran his hands over his face, rubbing it roughly. Despite showering and having his wrist treated, bits of Changdu’s face kept flashing in his mind. If he forced himself to sleep like this, he was sure to dream about him.

Changdu chasing him with a sickle. Jin-geol with a knife. Himself limping through a dark forest. The endless escape that would only end when he woke up—or perhaps not even then.

Fear cast a shadow over Ajin’s face. He clenched the blanket tightly as if holding it for support. Seokju let out a silent sigh and reluctantly approached the bed. A smile bloomed on Ajin’s lips. He shifted his body to make space for Seokju. With a stiff expression, Seokju lay down.

He positioned himself rigidly, hands neatly placed at his sides, lying as still as a corpse. Ajin lay beside him, their bodies separated by about two handspans, both staring at the ceiling. A strange tension hung heavy in the air.

Ajin blinked slowly. The silence was uncomfortable. He thought everything would be okay with Seokju next to him, but oddly, even with him here, it felt like he was alone. There was no connection between them.

The Seokju he knew, the Seokju from his past life, wouldn’t have left him like this. He would have held him and comforted him. No matter how bad of a person he might have been, he was the second person, after Miss Flower, who had held and soothed him the most. Just as these thoughts filled his mind…

Seokju turned toward Ajin and stretched out his arm, patting the space beside him.

“Come here.”

“……”

“I’ll hold you.”

Ajin gasped softly, staring at Seokju. When their eyes met, Seokju patted the bed again.

“Hurry.”

Ajin, as if drawn by some invisible force, slipped into his embrace. Seokju smoothly slid an arm under Ajin’s head and used his other hand to stroke his back gently.

Feeling the touch, Ajin’s nose began to sting. The fear and anxiety he had suppressed suddenly threatened to overflow.

But Ajin didn’t cry. He wasn’t a naive twenty-year-old anymore but a twenty-seven-year-old adult. He closed his eyes tightly, using Seokju’s comfort like thread to sew up the torn pieces of his heart.

As his roiling emotions began to settle, Ajin spoke in a low voice.

“That… person. What happened to him?”

“I sent him to the police. Turns out he already had prior convictions for theft and fraud. The CCTV showed he’d been stealing from customers before too. He’ll probably be charged with theft and assault.”

“Charged? What… will they cut his arm off or something?”

“……What?”

Seokju quickly glanced at Ajin, startled by the mention of cutting off an arm. Ajin gave a small laugh and shook his head briefly.

“It’s a joke.”

He then buried his face in Seokju’s chest. Seokju flinched slightly but soon embraced Ajin tightly.

Ajin gazed blankly at the air beyond Seokju’s shoulder.

A pig. That’s what Changdu was—a thief even in their past life. He even lost an arm and became a pitiful figure. Why was he still living the same way? It wasn’t curiosity as much as confusion. While Ajin was leading a completely different life, Changdu seemed unchanged.

Then again, maybe Ajin was also living a similar life to before. Born the son of a noble family, only to be kidnapped and briefly have his fate twisted.

Does everyone live lives similar to their past ones?

…If so, what about Seokju? What kind of life is he living? What is his fate?

To Ajin’s eyes, Seokju in this life bore no resemblance to the Seokju from before. He wasn’t a gangster, nor did he engage in wrongdoing. Why was Seokju the only one living a completely different life?

Nothing made sense. What was the Dragon King thinking?

Ajin stared intently at Seokju in front of him. Seokju received the gaze with his characteristic calm expression.

“I’ll stay by your side, so sleep now.”

A large hand stroked the back of Ajin’s head. The fingers moved downward, lightly grazing the nape of his neck.

“…Alright,” Ajin replied in a small voice, flinching slightly. Even then, he couldn’t fall asleep easily. He stole glances at Seokju’s handsome face while trying to organize his muddled thoughts. His eyes grew dry, and he finally shut them tightly.

He was exhausted. Past life or not, what did it matter? Only one thing was clear: the Seokju before him was not that Seokju. This one didn’t get hot, didn’t drink, didn’t smoke. There was no way they were the same person.

This Seokju simply cherished Ajin. Unlike the Seokju he knew, this one neither hurt him, made him cry, nor left him alone.

Yes. That was enough.

Ajin buried his face into Seokju’s chest. The coolness of Seokju’s body temperature wrapped around him, and it wasn’t bad.

The next day, around lunchtime, Ajin was taken to the hospital by Seokju to treat his wrist. It was just scratches and scrapes, so he hadn’t felt it necessary, but Seokju insisted. Thinking it was better to oblige him, Ajin went along. At the hospital, Seokju suggested various tests, saying that the more injuries they documented, the harsher Changdu’s punishment would be.

Hearing that, Ajin cooperated fully with the tests. They even checked his pelvis, hip bones, and spine, suspecting possible injuries from his fall.

Once the tests were done, Seokju became quite busy. He moved around collecting documents, consulting with doctors, and discreetly discussing something. His serious expression made it clear he was determined for Changdu to face severe punishment.

At first, Ajin followed him around like a puppy. However, Seokju seemed uneasy about it—perhaps worried Ajin might trip, bump into someone, or become the subject of gossip.

Eventually, Seokju arranged a private hospital room for him and asked him to wait there. He set up a tablet with a drama playing and connected wireless earbuds for him. Promising to return quickly, Seokju left. Sitting on the sofa and waving a hand goodbye, Ajin rested his chin on the cushion and began watching the drama.

Time passed. Ajin, deeply absorbed in the drama with his brows furrowed, suddenly noticed something.

“Here’s your strawberry cookie frappe.”

A pretty-colored drink was placed in front of him. Absentmindedly, Ajin took it to his mouth and reflexively thanked the person.

“Thank you.”

It was only then that he realized it wasn’t Seokju’s voice. Removing the earbuds, he looked up. The person who delivered the drink gave a small bow before turning around. Ajin caught a glimpse of his profile.

“Uh…”

Ajin’s lips slipped from the straw, and the drink he was sipping sank back into the cup.

It was a familiar face. No, calling it merely familiar wasn’t enough. It was a face he knew. In this world, it was rare for Ajin to meet someone whose face he recognized.

A stocky build. Tanned complexion. Prominent cheekbones. Not large but distinct eyes. A manly, well-defined face. The kind of face that looked friendly when smiling but could easily become intimidating.

“Myungjin… Hyung?”

It was Myungjin.