“If you throw that at me, we’re really going to fight.”
Jung Yoon approached as Jeong Rok’s movements stopped, lecturing him as if he were pathetic.
Jeong Rok’s gaze, as he held up a hand to stop Jung Yoon from coming closer, was unusual, holding a mix of challenge and amusement.
“Hold on.”
Jeong Rok commanded. “Don’t pretend. It won’t work on me.”
Jung Yoon shot back, clearly seeing through any feigned sincerity.
“This could collapse, so stay over there.”
Jeong Rok urged, his tone shifting to genuine concern.
He pushed Jung Yoon away with one hand and shoved his arm deeper into the hay pile, a frantic energy now driving his actions.
Jung Yoon, his previous annoyance replaced by seriousness at Jeong Rok’s genuinely earnest face, quickly got up and headed for his discarded outer jacket, recognizing the urgency in Jeong Rok’s demeanor.
Keeping a wary eye on Jeong Rok’s movements, Jung Yoon quickly pulled out another mask from his pocket and hastened his steps, a sense of urgency now driving him.
He nearly climbed onto Jeong Rok’s back as Jeong Rok knelt down to check the disturbed hay pile, peering intently into the disarray, and then, with a swift motion, Jung Yoon put the mask on him from behind, ensuring his protection.
Jeong Rok looked up at Jung Yoon, his eyes narrowed at the sudden mask, a flicker of surprise mixed with curiosity in their depths.
“Is there something inside?”
Jeong Rok asked, his voice hinting at the unexpected discovery.
Jung Yoon was so focused on whatever Jeong Rok was rummaging for in the hay pile that he didn’t even notice Jeong Rok’s questioning gaze, his attention entirely consumed by the potential find.
Jeong Rok soon let out a wry chuckle, a sound of both resignation and amusement, tilted his head, and then sharply pulled his arm out, a decisive motion.
“…Huh?”
Jung Yoon murmured, a sudden shift in the air catching his attention.
It was the moment Jeong Rok pulled out something he had grabbed in his hand and held it up for Jung Yoon to see, its nature still unclear.
As he did, the hay pile, stacked like a mountain behind Jeong Rok, seemed to shiver and then grow dangerously precarious, swaying ominously before it cast a large, engulfing shadow in front of him.
“Team Leader!”
Jung Yoon, startled, pointed behind him with his finger, his voice sharp with alarm.
Jeong Rok’s eyebrows, which had been narrowed with a proud expression as he looked at Jung Yoon, furrowed further in confusion.
Confused, he turned his head slightly, just enough to see the impending disaster.
“…Fuck.”
Jeong Rok uttered, the single expletive a stark acknowledgment of their predicament.
As if Jeong Rok’s low utterance was a trigger, the hay pile cascaded down in front of him with a deafening roar.
It poured forward all at once, like a landslide from a small mountain, a torrent of dry, dusty stalks.
Jung Yoon quickly rushed towards him, his body moving first without a moment’s hesitation or time to think.
Jeong Rok, startled by the rapid footsteps, turned to him and instinctively shook his head, a gesture to tell him to stop.
But Jung Yoon didn’t stop, his determination fueled by adrenaline.
Even with a dry and light hay pile, given the sheer volume, there was a clear risk of injury if hit head-on, a dangerous certainty.
Jung Yoon rushed towards Jeong Rok, feeling as if he could pull him out if he reached out, a desperate hope, but the collapse was faster, an unstoppable force.
Finally, Jung Yoon changed his mind, realizing extraction was impossible.
His only option was to protect Jeong Rok.
He shifted his momentum, pulling Jeong Rok’s shoulder towards himself, his intention clear.
He intended to be underneath Jeong Rok, acting as a mattress, a selfless act of sacrifice. But Jeong Rok was not to be easily outmaneuvered either.
The moment his shoulder was grabbed, Jeong Rok understood Jung Yoon’s intention, his quick mind processing the situation.
Instead, he countered, pulling Jung Yoon’s waist with his arm, intending to reverse their positions.
Just before hitting the ground, Jeong Rok tried to get Jung Yoon’s body on top of his, a desperate maneuver to protect him.
But Jung Yoon also realized this, his sharp instincts keeping pace with Jeong Rok’s.
He grabbed Jeong Rok’s collar, maintaining control, and completely let go of his strength, allowing them both to fall together in a controlled manner.
Thump—!
A heavy, resonant sound echoed through the greenhouse.
As if to mock Jeong Rok’s widened, astonished eyes, the world before Jung Yoon flashed black for a fleeting moment, a brief sensory deprivation.
Simultaneously, a heavy thud resonated inside the greenhouse, a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the structure.
It was a dense, large sound, as if of a boulder, not mere hay, striking the ground.
As the roar subsided, dust, fine and powdery, swirled like snow, coating everything in a hazy film.
The compressed hay piles that had fallen now lay scattered, fluttering everywhere, no longer a coherent mass.
His nostrils tickled, irritated by the dust, and dry air entered his throat, making it rough. Coughs spontaneously erupted from his chest, a reflexive reaction.
As he coughed from his chest, a violent hacking sound, even louder coughing sounds reached his ears, indicating someone else was also struggling.
Jung Yoon, continuously coughing, slowly opened his eyelids and looked around, a dull ache lingering.
He felt a warmth at the back of his head.
Jung Yoon immediately realized what it was—Jeong Rok—and let out a small sigh, a sound of both relief and weary exasperation.
“Ah, crap, my knee feels like it’s out,” Jeong Rok groaned, his voice a strained whisper.
He was lying prone on top of Jung Yoon as if he had fallen onto him, his weight pressing down.
Jung Yoon lifted his head and looked down, assessing the situation.
“It didn’t touch you,” Jung Yoon stated, his voice a little hoarse from the dust.
Although not perfectly visible due to their overlapping positions, he could tell that Jeong Rok’s knee was resting on the hay pile, cushioned by the loose stalks.
Jung Yoon glanced strangely at Jeong Rok, who had skillfully extended his leg to a soft spot, a surprising feat of precision in chaos, and then winced at a sudden sharp pain that shot through his own body.
The impact spreading from his butt to his thigh was considerable, a deep ache that throbbed with each movement. Ss-eup, Jung Yoon hissed, swallowing the pain.
He pushed away Jeong Rok’s shoulder, which was covering him, a gentle but firm motion, while moving his other hand to his waist, instinctively reaching for the source of discomfort.
It was because he felt something caught between his waist and his butt, a hard, unyielding object. He twisted his waist, grimacing, groping to pull out something hard, but a groan escaped from an unexpected place—Jeong Rok.
“Ah, it hurts.”
Jeong Rok’s groan intensified, likely from the pressure applied by the unexpected hand.
Jung Yoon, surprised, released his hand immediately and glanced down.
The identity of what he had wondered about, the hard object pressing into him, was none other than Jeong Rok’s arm.
Jeong Rok appeared to be supporting his head with one hand, his arm bent, while holding Jung Yoon’s waist with the other, his grip still firm.
Thanks to this, Jung Yoon’s back and waist had avoided the direct impact of falling directly onto the ground.
Although his sacrifice didn’t save his butt entirely from the impact, it did reduce bleeding for a fall in an unpreventable situation.
If he only considered himself, it was an action that could be called at least half successful, a small victory in a chaotic moment.
However, from Jeong Rok’s perspective, it was a disaster.
His arm could have been broken if something went wrong, a dangerous gamble.
Jung Yoon quickly raised his upper body, creating space, to allow Jeong Rok to pull his arm out, a move born of concern.
“Ahem, ahem. Are you alright?”
Jung Yoon coughed out the dust tickling his throat, his voice still a little raspy, and cautiously asked Jeong Rok, who was rubbing his arm, his expression a mix of discomfort and annoyance.
Jeong Rok, who was kneeling and gently touching his arm, looked down at Jung Yoon in bewildered amusement.
Their eyes met, a shared understanding passing between them.
The pose Jung Yoon was in was quite unseemly and embarrassing, flat on the ground with Jeong Rok half on top of him, but Jung Yoon responded with a “what are you going to do?” expression, a defiant acceptance of his undignified situation, and then looked at the hand that had covered his head during the fall, checking for injury.
“It’s going to swell. I’ll drive.”
Jung Yoon declared, a direct assessment leading to an appropriate conclusion.
His focus was already shifting to the practicalities. Jeong Rok scoffed at the remark, which boldly cut away unnecessary details, his usual playful disdain returning.
He did have a somewhat worried look, so it was understandable to a degree, a testament to Jung Yoon’s subtle concern.
However, the words and tone he uttered were excessively indifferent, a casualness that grated on Jeong Rok’s nerves.
My head almost broke, and who are you worrying about?
The thought crossed Jeong Rok’s mind.
He briefly glanced at his red, swollen hand, the site of the recent impact, and then placed both hands on Jung Yoon’s thigh, a deliberate, almost possessive gesture, tilting his head slightly as he spoke.
“In all my life, I’ve never seen someone jump in to protect me.”
The statement was delivered with a strange mix of genuine surprise and mocking amusement.
Jeong Rok, with eyes that looked like he’d seen an alien, a gaze of intense, almost bewildered observation, brushed off the hay covering his black hair and grumbled, a low, rumbling sound.
He blew the dust clinging near his face with his mouth and continued to brush off his shoulders and arms, then suddenly bit back a curse, his expression twisting in discomfort.
It seemed his unthinking action had caused pain, a sharp reminder of the recent fall.
Jung Yoon, watching him while lying down, covered his nose and mouth with his hand, trying to hide his own lingering coughs and discomfort, and averted his gaze.
It was awkward.
His posture somehow felt even more embarrassing, the intimacy of the moment highlighted by their close proximity.
Jung Yoon, looking up at the lights that shone brightly like stars against the dark night sky, a stark contrast to the dim greenhouse, let out a hollow laugh and raised his torso, finally sitting up.
He rubbed his butt, wincing slightly as a fresh wave of pain shot through him, and Jeong Rok lowered his gaze, staring at where Jung Yoon’s hand was touching, a subtle, almost possessive curiosity in his eyes.
“That’s the same for me too…”
Jung Yoon was about to retort, unwilling to concede, to acknowledge Jeong Rok’s unique place in his life, when a face suddenly came to mind, making him fall silent.
When he subtly shifted his gaze, the exact same face that dominated his mind was right before his eyes, damn it.
The resemblance was uncanny, almost haunting.
Jung Yoon couldn’t help but fall into self-reproach, a familiar wave of guilt washing over him.
If he were in danger, there was someone who would always and without hesitation step forward to protect him.
This thought was a heavy weight on his conscience.
It wasn’t a trick of fate, but receiving such protection from Jeong Rok made him feel strange, a peculiar mix of gratitude and discomfort.
The thought that someone with the same name and the same face had done something his lover would do made his tongue twist and his stomach churn, a bitter taste in his mouth.
His own attitude was no different.
He, who had jumped in to save the man before him, would never have hesitated if the other person were his lover, Moon Jeong Rok, the man who occupied his thoughts and heart.
If he only had the chance, he still wanted to save him, just like the Jeong Rok in front of him.
Still tormented by the guilt of not being able to save him, Jung Yoon closed his eyes with a complex feeling, a maelstrom of emotions swirling within him.
Knowing his face would be dirty from the dust and hay, he covered it with his hands and suppressed his emotions, pushing them down, trying to regain his composure.
It was obvious Jeong Rok would find it strange if he noticed how excessively emotional he was.
He didn’t want to be caught, to reveal the turmoil within him.
“You didn’t want to die, and I interfered, did I?”
Jeong Rok asked, his voice laced with a mischievous curiosity, breaking the silence.
“…Could you perhaps just be quiet?”
Jung Yoon muttered, his patience wearing thin.
“You act exactly like someone who’s desperate to die.”
Jeong Rok continued, relentless.
“There’s no one like that here.”
Jung Yoon retorted, his voice firm.
“Well, that’s a relief then.”
Jeong Rok concluded, his tone lighter.
The word “relief” might not have meant much on its own, but it was enough to make Jung Yoon’s feelings even stranger, adding another layer to his already complex emotions.
He looked at him with troubled eyes, a silent question in their depths, and Jeong Rok, who was still brushing off his clothes, said playfully: “I’ll definitely repay this favor, okay?”
He gently overlapped his hands on his chest and even tilted his head slightly, mimicking a demure posture, a theatrical gesture that was entirely out of character and designed to annoy.
The emotions that had been damp dried up like a squeezed sponge, replaced by a sudden dryness, a sense of irritation.
“I won’t repay it, and I’ll decline yours, Team Leader,” Jung Yoon stated flatly, unwilling to engage in the game.
“Playing hard to get, aren’t you?”
Jeong Rok teased, enjoying the banter.
“What’s good about playing easy?”
Jung Yoon countered, his voice sharp.
“Me. I think I’d like it.”
Jeong Rok replied, his tone laced with a suggestive hint.
Jung Yoon, no longer wanting to converse, checked his aching butt, his discomfort evident.
A snickering sound reached his ears, the sound of Jeong Rok’s amusement.
He tried to act oblivious and moved to get up, a silent attempt to escape the conversation, but Jeong Rok’s slightly more serious voice stopped him, cutting through his resolve.
“Anyway, I hope you, Detective Woo, live at least one day longer than me.”
The sudden sincerity was jarring, a stark contrast to their usual banter.