Double Junk - 193

“Do you… not like Juhyeok, hyung?”

“Yes, I don’t like him.”

The quick response made Ajin draw back in surprise. It was rare for Seokju to openly express his emotions like this, and Ajin found it both unexpected and intriguing. Resting his elbow on the console box, Ajin asked,

“Why not?”

“Because he’s close to you.”

Seokju, stopping the car at a red light, gave a firm reply once again. Ajin rubbed his eyebrows, trying to interpret his words.

“So… you don’t like him because he’s close to me? Is this… jealousy or something?”

“Yes, jealousy.”

Seokju admitted openly. Ajin let out a dry laugh. His unabashed honesty made it hard to even tease him. As Ajin stared at Seokju’s profile, his phone kept vibrating.

[Reply.]
[Reply now.]
[Hurry.]
[Squash.]
[It’s been a while. Let’s go.]
[Tennis or golf works too.]
[Let’s drink after we’re done.]

Ajin skimmed through the texts with an unreadable expression before quickly typing a reply.

[No.]

After pressing send, he turned the phone face down and showed it to Seokju. The bold letters “No” were clearly visible on the screen. A satisfied smile spread across Seokju’s face. Seeing his obvious delight, Ajin chuckled.

“But if you don’t like Juhyeok, why did you buy him an expensive watch?”

“That Rolex… Juhyeok seemed to really like it.” Ajin spoke while switching his phone to silent mode.

“Because if I gave him something cheap, he’d use it as an excuse to bother you.”

“I see.”

Ajin nodded in understanding. It felt like the old saying, “Give a disliked person even more rice cakes.” As he recalled Juhyeok grinning over the watch, a particular conversation came to mind.

“That hyung is a masochist. A masochist. And you’re a sadist. Ugh, are you both freaks or what?”

That’s right. He had meant to look up the meaning of those words but had completely forgotten. Ajin turned his phone back on and spoke casually.

“Apparently, we’re moving away from being sadists and masochists.”

The car jolted slightly. Seokju had accidentally stepped on the gas pedal. Startled, Ajin looked at him with wide eyes, only to find Seokju staring back at him with an even more astonished expression.

“…What do you mean by that?”

Equally surprised, Ajin stammered as he repeated Juhyeok’s words.

“Juhyeok said so. That I’m a sadist and hyung has masochistic tendencies. He said we’re both weird. I wanted to look it up, but I haven’t done it yet. Is it some kind of illness?”

“…Tendencies… like that.”

Seokju mumbled, grinding his teeth. Ajin tilted his head closer to him.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing. Don’t look it up. It’s not something you need to know.”

Seokju’s voice was firm. To emphasize his point, he snatched Ajin’s phone and tossed it into the back seat. Ajin stared at his now-empty hand, fidgeting. He was curious. The more Seokju insisted, the more curious he became. Yet, if Seokju said not to, maybe he shouldn’t.

“…Okay? Anyway, Juhyeok said that you and I enjoy this weird dynamic. But now that you’ve made it clear you dislike him, and since I don’t want to do anything you hate, I guess we’re neither sadists nor masochists anymore.”

Ajin repeated the words “sadist” and “masochist” with a naive expression. The sentences he casually strung together were enough to make anyone overhearing panic. A visible frown of distress formed on Seokju’s face.

“Ha… Yeah.”

He sighed, glaring at the red traffic light ahead, his frustration clearly brewing. Propping his arm on the window ledge, he scratched his eyebrow before softly calling Ajin’s name.

“Ajin.”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you do, don’t say any of this in front of the chairman or your aunt.”

“You mean about the sadist and masochist stuff?”

“Yes, that.”

“Are those bad words?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Ajin nodded obediently, like a well-behaved child. Seokju smiled faintly and reached out to ruffle the back of Ajin’s hair.

A few minutes later, the car pulled into the parking lot of the main house. Retrieving his phone from the back seat, Ajin was about to get out when Seokju gently tugged on his arm.

“Let me see your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yeah.”

Without hesitation, Ajin handed it over. Swiping up on the home screen, Seokju opened the chat with Juhyeok. Below Ajin’s blunt reply, [No.], were several angry messages from Juhyeok.

[You traitor.]
[You jerk.]
[You little punk.]

Reading up to “punk,” Seokju deleted the entire conversation thread. Not stopping there, he found Juhyeok’s contact and hit the [Block] button. Then, he returned the phone to Ajin.

Ajin glanced at him questioningly, but Seokju only smiled slyly, offering no explanation.

“What’s your aunt like?”

After entering the house and taking off his shoes, Ajin skipped the house slippers and headed straight inside. While tidying up Ajin’s shoes and slipping into his own house slippers, Seokju froze. Swallowing nervously, he hesitated to answer. Meanwhile, Ajin continued chattering.

“I’m sure she’s a good person since Mom really likes her. But since this is my first time meeting her, I’m kind of nervous and worried…”

Fidgeting, Ajin swayed back and forth. Seokju quietly reached out and patted his arm.

“There’s nothing to worry about. She’s someone to be happy about.”

“…Okay.”

Hearing those words, Ajin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Seokju reassured him with another gentle pat. Just then, Seonhwa poked her head out from the end of the hallway.

“Ajin, are you back?”

“Yes, I’m home.”

Ajin bowed politely in greeting.

“Oh, and Seokju is here too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Have you eaten dinner?”

“No, not yet.”

“Alright. Leave your stuff and come eat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Seokju bowed slightly before disappearing down the hallway with Ajin’s jacket and briefcase. Ajin watched him leave with a tinge of regret. They had been together all day, yet it felt difficult to part ways. As he licked his dry lips, Seonhwa tugged at his wrist, urging him to hurry, saying his aunt was waiting. Suddenly, Ajin impulsively called out to her.

“Mom.”

“Yes, my son?”

“I want to go back home now. To the house where I live with Seokju.”

At this, Seonhwa turned sharply to look at him.

“Why?”

“It’s closer to the company.”

“Wait. Did you get your memory back?”

Stopping in her tracks, she widened her eyes in surprise. Ajin pulled his chin inward, nervously fiddling with the end of his tie.

“Uh? Well, not exactly… but I think being there rather than here might be better for… um, my head… or my memory… you know?”

His hesitant explanation made Seonhwa narrow her eyes. Just as Ajin was about to say more to convince her, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Alright, then.”

“Really?”

Ajin’s eyes widened at the unexpectedly easy permission.

“Yes. But I’ll miss you. I was so happy to live with my son again after so long.”

Seonhwa reached out and gently ran her fingers through Ajin’s hair. Ajin smiled shyly. “I’ll visit often.”

Seonhwa smiled back, her hand softly patting his back. “Come by anytime, anytime.”

Ajin felt warm hearing this. Knowing there was a place he could always return to felt wonderful. Ever since he had woken up in this world, he hadn’t stopped being amazed by such warmth. He felt like he could live happily, even if everyone else disappeared, as long as Seonhwa and Seokju were with him.

The two of them walked past a hallway lit by neat, lantern-shaped lights and entered the living room. Oddly enough, the living room was empty. His aunt was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s my aunt?”

“Oh, she’s in the kitchen making a roll cake.”

“…A roll cake?”

“Yes. You love those. Even though you don’t usually like sweets, you can’t resist those. She said since you’re here, she’d make a bunch for you to take back. Do you not even remember that?”

“…”

Ajin remained silent, signaling that he didn’t. Seonhwa let out a sigh through her nose.

“Remember last time when you came home from the hospital? You ate a ton of roll cake over two days. Those were made by your aunt.”

“Oh…”

Ajin let out a soft sigh. He recalled the first day he arrived at this house—late at night, after dinner, when Seokju had brought out some roll cake and grapefruit as dessert. The cake had been so fluffy, sweet, and delicious that he had eaten it for dessert the next day and the day after. He’d been disappointed when Seokju said there was no more.

So, it was his aunt who made those.

As Ajin tugged at his tie and loosened it, Seonhwa cautiously asked, “Do you remember your aunt?”

Ajin slowly shook his head. Seonhwa brushed back his hair with a tender, worried expression.

“What should we do with you?”

“Sorry…”

“She really adored you. She still does.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Let’s go say hello. Maybe seeing her face will jog your memory.”

Seonhwa led him by the arm, and Ajin reluctantly followed. Truthfully, he wasn’t particularly eager to meet this “aunt” or anyone else. To him, these people were strangers. For now, just Seonhwa and Seokju felt like more than enough. He wasn’t interested in expanding his circle of connections.

Resolving to keep his greeting brief, he stepped into the kitchen. The rich aroma of butter and sugar immediately wafted over him, along with the humid warmth from the oven. The heat made him frown, though he masked it with an impassive expression.

“Hey, sister! Ajin’s here,” Seonhwa called out warmly.

Someone was standing in front of the fridge. Already feeling awkward, Ajin dropped his gaze to the floor. Then he heard it.

“Oh, Ajin? Perfect timing. It’s just about done. Wait outside; it’s hot in here.”

An all-too-familiar voice rang in his ears. A shiver ran down his entire body.

Ajin. The voice was low for a woman, with a rough yet strong tone—like it could reverberate through the skies if she shouted. Only one person in the world called him by his name in that way.

No way, it couldn’t be…

Ajin’s mouth opened slightly as he instinctively lifted his head. The person called his “aunt” was pulling a round, chubby roll cake wrapped in parchment paper out of the fridge.

She had a robust figure. Over a lightweight dress, she wore an apron adorned with floral charms, and her hands and ankles were sturdy. Her skin was neither pale nor dark, with scars scattered over her forearms and the backs of her hands—marks of burns often found on those who work in kitchens.

Her hair was medium-length, wavy, and tied up with a large clip. A glimpse of a necklace chain was visible around her neck.

Ajin froze, holding his breath. His heart pounded loudly—so much so that it felt like his chest might burst. The sensation was so intense that he almost thought his hair was moving from the force of it.

Without blinking, he stared at her, trying to see her face. His chest heaved uncontrollably.

“What are you doing? I told you to wait outside,” the woman said, waving her hand and turning her head. Her movements were slow, as if time had stopped. The sweet aroma of sugar seemed suffocating.

Finally, her face came into view. Thin double eyelids, slightly upturned lips, freckled cheeks, sweat beading on her forehead, and deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Ajin’s eyes filled with tears. He quickly wiped them away, but the tears came rushing back.

It was her.

It was her.

“Miss Flower… Auntie…”

Miss Flower stood right in front of him.