Jung-rok frantically tried to explain, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush, but Jung Yoon let it go in one ear and out the other.
A knowing certainty settled in Jung Yoon’s mind: he knew from the start that Jung-rok hadn’t taken on the cold case team for such trivial, self-serving reasons.
Jung-rok’s dedication ran deeper than that.
Still, despite this understanding, Jung Yoon couldn’t shake the primal urge to properly “hit” him back just once, to playfully challenge his senior in a way that acknowledged their burgeoning, yet still unarticulated, camaraderie.
It was a peculiar desire, born not of malice, but of an unspoken tension and a growing comfort in each other’s presence.
Thump, clatter.
The rhythmic, warning-like sounds of Jung Yoon drumming his fingers on his knee continued, a subtle signal of his amusement and lingering annoyance.
Jung-rok pressed his lips together, a faint flush rising on his cheeks, indicating his awareness of Jung Yoon’s unspoken mockery.
“You know violence can’t be justified in any situation, right?”
Jung Yoon stated, his voice even, yet with a subtle undercurrent of a playful challenge, his eyes fixed on Jung-rok.
“Oh, this is for disciplinary purposes,” Jung-rok replied, a theatrical sigh escaping him.
He nodded, a very apologetic expression plastered on his face, though his eyes still held a mischievous glint.
“Discipline, that’s good,” he muttered under his breath, then let out a forced, performative laugh that sounded more like a series of exaggerated coughs.
It was a transparent attempt to deflect, to maintain some semblance of authority in the face of Jung Yoon’s teasing.
“Detective Woo.”
Jung-rok cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and shift the dynamic.
“Yes, Team Leader.”
Jung Yoon responded, his voice unwavering, his gaze still holding that knowing glint.
He wouldn’t let Jung-rok off the hook so easily.
“…Right. I’m the team leader of the team our Detective Woo is on, aren’t I?”
Jung-rok awkwardly curled the corners of his mouth into a strained smile, trying to force eye contact, desperately attempting to instill the idea, ‘I am your superior. You should listen to me.’ His attempts at asserting dominance were transparent, almost endearing in their futility.
“So?”
Jung Yoon remained utterly unimpressed, his brow slightly raised in a silent challenge.
It seemed Jung-rok’s efforts were utterly ineffective.
Jung-rok, defeated, nodded to himself, a silent acknowledgment of Jung Yoon’s stubborn resistance.
“So, that is…”
Jung-rok began, his voice trailing off, searching for the right words, a flicker of genuine concession in his eyes.
Jung Yoon waited, a faint smirk playing on his lips, enjoying the rare moment of seeing his usually composed superior squirm.
The silence stretched, filled only by the distant drumming of the rain and the hum of the car’s electronics.
“I was wrong.”
Jung-rok finally admitted, his voice a low, almost reluctant mumble.
He interlaced his fingers, bowing his head deeply, and mumbled seriously, a gesture of mock humility that was nonetheless effective in getting Jung Yoon’s attention.
At that, the rhythmic tapping sounds from Jung Yoon’s hands stopped.
The playful challenge in his eyes softened, replaced by a genuine amusement.
“I won’t do it again.”
Jung-rok held up both index fingers in a frantic, almost desperate gesture, waving them wildly as if to ward off further teasing.
Jung Yoon stared at the two wiggling fingers with an exasperated but fond look, then finally shook his hand dismissively, the drumming sound ceasing entirely.
He leaned forward, his voice clear and firm, yet with a subtle warmth.
“Just like the Section Chief said, let’s really just focus on work. Just work! Okay? Let’s stop these useless power struggles and… work!”
He emphasized the word “work,” making it clear where their priorities should lie.
Jung Yoon also interlaced his fingers, mirroring Jung-rok’s earlier gesture.
Though his gesture was slightly different, a subtle variation on the theme, for a brief moment, he was satisfied with their rare alignment of purpose, a shared commitment to the task at hand.
Then, abruptly, the car’s windshield was bathed in a brilliant yellow light.
The entire view flashed, a sudden, blinding glare that seemed to swallow the dim interior, as if someone was deliberately shining a spotlight on them.
Jung Yoon squeezed his eyes shut instinctively, trying to avoid the blinding light, but Jung-rok’s hand was already there.
He quickly covered Jung Yoon’s face with his palm, pushing him back into the reclined seat. Jung-rok, too, crouched down, burying himself deep in his seat, his body coiled, ready for anything.
The sudden, coordinated action was a testament to their unspoken bond, their instinctive understanding of each other’s movements.
As the two hid silently below the car window, pressed against their seats, the approaching light passed by at an incredibly fast speed, a fleeting golden streak against the dark, rainy night.
As it whizzed past, water splashed from the tires of the passing vehicle, crashing against the car like a wave, a sudden gush that momentarily obscured their view.
The light, sweeping over the entire car, briefly illuminated their faces clearly before fading into the encompassing darkness.
It was only for an instant, a mere fraction of a second, but it was enough for Jung-rok to see the shock etched on Jung Yoon’s face, and for Jung Yoon to glimpse the intense concentration in Jung-rok’s eyes.
Jung-rok’s brow was deeply furrowed, a grim line of concern, as he cautiously peeked over the car window, scanning the receding headlights.
As Jung Yoon tried to move, to sit up and assess the situation, Jung-rok brought his index finger to his own lips and shook his head slightly, a silent command for stillness.
Jung Yoon frowned, a flicker of annoyance returning.
He’s being overly dramatic, he thought, a familiar wave of irritation washing over him.
That’s when it happened.
Just as Jung Yoon was about to scoff at Jung-rok’s perceived overreaction, to utter a sarcastic remark, a sudden afterimage, a faint, unsettling blur, rushed into his vision like a tide.
It was a fleeting, yet distinct, visual disturbance that defied explanation.
Jung Yoon squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp pain blooming behind them, then shook his head vigorously, trying to clear the lingering image, and opened them again.
This time, his ears felt muffled, as if he were underwater, and then a sudden, high-pitched buzzing, a ringing tinnitus, began scratching at his eardrums, growing louder and more insistent.
It was a physical sensation, alien and alarming, that seemed to emanate from deep within his head.
Sensing something was profoundly wrong with his body, Jung Yoon brought his hand to his ear, pressing against the throbbing pain.
But at that moment, pop, pop, like popcorn popping, a series of sharp, stinging sensations erupted, and his entire ear tingled with a sharp, electric buzz.
It was an almost unbearable discomfort, a shocking internal assault.
He let out a low groan, a strangled sound that barely escaped his lips.
Jung-rok, his eyes wide with alarm, quickly removed the hand that had covered Jung Yoon’s face and gripped Jung Yoon’s chin, tilting it up, forcing him to meet his gaze.
Jung Yoon then gasped for breath, a desperate, ragged inhale, and instinctively grabbed Jung-rok’s wrist, his grip surprisingly strong despite his distress.
Jung-rok’s brow furrowed, his efforts to help thwarted by Jung Yoon’s panicked resistance.
He paused for a moment, his gaze unwavering, but he didn’t stop what he was doing.
He maintained his grip on Jung Yoon’s chin, his eyes searching for answers.
“Are you hurt?”
Jung-rok asked, his voice low and urgent, a stark contrast to his earlier teasing.
Jung Yoon couldn’t open his mouth easily.
His jaw felt locked, his throat constricted.
Perhaps it was due to the sudden tension, the lingering adrenaline from the passing car, but his heart felt as if it had been thrown into a blazing inferno, pounding erratically against his ribs.
Nausea surged, a bitter taste rising in his throat.
He was breathing heavily, in shallow, rapid gasps, as if he had just finished a sprint, his lungs burning.
Just as he felt a desperate lack of breath, a suffocating constriction in his chest, Jung-rok reacted with surprising calm and swiftness.
He pressed his thumb firmly against Jung Yoon’s lips, gently forcing them open.
Air rushed in all at once, a sudden, welcome influx that filled his burning lungs.
“Woo Jung-yoon, breathe properly.”
Jung-rok commanded, his voice firm and unwavering, yet laced with a deep concern.
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the seat, bringing his upper body closer to Jung Yoon. He gently pushed back Jung Yoon’s hair, exposing his forehead.
Despite his firm tone, the hand that touched Jung Yoon’s sweat-beaded forehead was incredibly gentle, a touch that betrayed a surprising tenderness.
Jung Yoon found this sight repulsive, the unexpected tenderness from Jung-rok jarring against his own internal turmoil.
Yet, he was also engulfed in confusion by a faint sense of déjà vu, a fleeting, unsettling feeling of having experienced this exact moment before.
For a moment, his thoughts ceased, his mind going blank as if his brain had lost its function.
Something formless, an intangible discomfort, floated at the periphery of his consciousness, making him profoundly uneasy.
Jung Yoon’s face, stiff and unresponsive as a stone statue, twitched slightly, a subtle tremor betraying his internal struggle.
His irritated eyes, wide and searching, turned to Jung-rok, seeking an answer to the confusion that plagued him.
After a long moment, a silent exchange passing between them, Jung Yoon squeezed his eyes shut again, then opened them, and finally, the faint afterimage that had blurred his vision dissipated, scattering into nothingness.
The reality before him was only his colleague’s intense gaze, a look that was hard to dismiss as mere concern. It was something deeper, something unsettlingly profound.
He didn’t understand why Jung-rok was looking at him that way, with such an unreadable intensity.
And yet, he himself was always, foolishly, inexplicably, captivated by that gaze, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, despite his inner turmoil.
He was a fool for being so consistently drawn to that intensity.
“Woo Jung-yoon!”
Jung-rok’s voice was a sharp command, pulling him back to the present.
Jung Yoon, unable to fully comprehend or process the depth of Jung-rok’s gaze, savagely pushed away Jung-rok’s gentle hand—a touch he found difficult to understand, almost repulsive in its unexpected tenderness.
He rejected it as if it were a physical threat, instead of the gaze he found impossible to shake off, impossible to escape.
He buried the lump of unanswered questions and anxieties deep in his chest, a heavy, silent burden.
Jung-rok’s gaze, unwavering and penetrating, settled on Jung Yoon’s subdued eyes, searching for an explanation, for a sign of recognition.
***
Jung Yoon frowned, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows, clearly annoyed.
He made no effort to hide his displeasure, radiating an undeniable aura of discomfort.
He dropped his gaze, pulling his eyes away from Jung-rok’s gaze, which felt surprisingly harsh, almost accusatory in its intensity.
He didn’t want to look at Jung-rok until this unsettling feeling, this strange mixture of anger and confusion, had completely subsided.
Jung Yoon rubbed his flushed neck with his palm, the skin feeling hot beneath his touch, and let out a dry, mirthless laugh, a sound devoid of genuine humor.
Flushed?
What was such a brief, incidental touch to make me feel like that?
He scoffed at himself, a self-deprecating thought echoing in his mind.
He then abruptly handed the handkerchief back to Jung-rok, the gesture abrupt and unceremonious.
“Thank you.”
His tone clearly drew a line, a definitive boundary.
Despite uttering the polite words “thank you,” his cold, clear refusal indicated he had no need for the handkerchief, no need for the implied concern.
It was a cold, definite attitude that left no room for misinterpretation.
Jung-rok shrugged, a slight lift of his shoulders, acknowledging the rejection without argument.
“It’s nothing. I just thought your head might’ve cracked because I couldn’t control my strength, that’s all.”
“My head isn’t that fragile,” Jung Yoon retorted, a hint of defiance in his voice.
“True. It’s tougher than I thought, like a rock,” Jung-rok conceded, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips.
“So be careful. I might just ram into you if it comes to it.”
Jung Yoon warned, the playful threat a subtle acknowledgment of their peculiar dynamic.
They both pretended not to, but they felt the other was trying to defuse the situation, to lighten the oppressive atmosphere that had settled between them.
It was a relief that their unspoken understanding, their strange telepathy, was still intact.
Jung Yoon scanned the direction the car had sped off in, his eyes tracking the vanishing tail lights, and then said, his voice shifting back to the pragmatic.
“But who was that at this hour? Driving so dangerously in this rain.”
“Beats me. Probably had something urgent,” Jung-rok replied, his voice casual.
“Anyway, we won’t hear from Detective Seo until morning, so get some sleep.”
He suggested, his tone taking on a more authoritative, yet still gentle, quality.
“Team Leader, you sleep. I’m fine.” Jung Yoon insisted, ever the dutiful subordinate, unwilling to rest while his superior remained vigilant.
“I’ll wake you in two hours, so close your eyes. After that, I’ll sleep for three hours.”
Jung-rok’s words were firm, leaving no room for argument.
He was taking charge, ensuring both of them got some much-needed rest.
“…Seriously.”
Jung Yoon muttered, a resigned sigh escaping him.
Jung-rok took out a pack of gum from his pocket.
He twisted the bottom, and a single piece of gum popped out.
He popped it into his mouth, then pulled out a stack of case reports, immediately immersing himself in the familiar rhythm of work.
Jung Yoon debated what to do, his mind still buzzing with the unsettling images and sensations from moments before.
But eventually, the overwhelming fatigue that had been steadily creeping in, a heavy cloak of exhaustion, forced him to surrender.
He raised a silent white flag.
He turned his head the other way, away from Jung-rok, and closed his eyes.
“Make sure you wake me up,” Jung Yoon murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep.
“You think I wouldn’t?” Jung-rok’s voice was a low chuckle, a hint of playful exasperation in his tone.
“…Just don’t do anything weird, because I will wake up if you touch me.”
Jung Yoon added, his words slurring slightly with drowsiness, a final, half-serious warning.
“How weird is ‘weird’?”
Jung-rok teased, his voice still low, but with an unmistakable glint of amusement.
“Don’t touch me anywhere but my shoulder. Anywhere else is weird.”
Jung Yoon clarified, his voice barely above a whisper, the last vestiges of his resistance fading.
From a distance, he heard Jung-rok snort, a soft, amused sound.
Yeah, yeah.
Of course, you wouldn’t.
He imagined Jung-rok’s knowing smirk.
Jung Yoon finally relaxed after hearing the grumbling, a deep sense of relief washing over him.
To think the day would come when he’d feel comfortable enough to engage in such banter, to trust Jung-rok enough to fall asleep in his presence.
It’s the end of the world.
Truly the end.
Lost in thought, his mind drifting into the liminal space between consciousness and sleep, the world outside gradually turned black, enveloped by the deep, silent night.
The noisy thoughts in his head, the anxieties and questions that had plagued him, quieted, receding into the peaceful darkness.
He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but suddenly, a chill spread across his entire body, a prickling sensation that raised goosebumps on his arms.
His eyes snapped open, wide and startled. Startled, Jung Yoon groggily shook his head, disoriented, and sat up, his body protesting the sudden movement.
The blanket, which he hadn’t realized was covering him, slipped down to his chest, pooling in his lap.
“Team Leader?” he called out, his voice thick with sleep and confusion.
The car’s interior was now brightly lit, the earlier darkness completely banished.
Jung Yoon roughly wiped his face, trying to clear the lingering grogginess, and then looked at the clock.
8:13 AM.
A jolt went through him.
It was well past the time he was supposed to be woken up, by a full three hours.
A chilling sensation, as if his blood was draining from his veins, spread throughout his body, a sudden wave of alarm.
Jung Yoon cursed softly under his breath, the swear word a guttural sound of frustration, staring blankly at the empty driver’s seat.
Jung-rok was gone.
“Where did he go again, this human, first thing in the morning?”
Jung Yoon muttered to himself, his voice laced with exasperation.
He sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair in frustration, and looked out the car window.
From somewhere, he heard the delighted, lilting sounds of children’s laughter, a cheerful contrast to his own annoyance.
He stretched his stiff, aching body, trying to work out the kinks from sleeping in the reclined seat.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, Jung Yoon opened the passenger door.
Stepping outside, he felt the full, vibrant embrace of morning.
The air was fresh and crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming foliage.
The rain had stopped overnight, and the weather was perfectly clear, the sky a brilliant blue.
Jung Yoon briefly scanned the muddy ground, noting the puddles left by the night’s downpour, and then, drawn by the persistent sound of laughter, he walked towards the direction from which it came.
Sure enough, there was Jung-rok, sitting in a row in front of the pavilion with a group of children, all of them engrossed in something.
A young boy was cradled in Jung-rok’s arms, his face alight with joy.
Jung-rok was lifting and lowering the child as if giving him a Viking ride, a playful, unexpected image that brought a reluctant smile to Jung Yoon’s face.
The sight of his usually serious, gruff team leader playing so tenderly with children was both surprising and oddly endearing.