Secretary Gwanggong's Survival Diary-Chapter 88
“Why isn’t he waking up?”
“He probably collapsed from exhaustion or overwork. No need to worry.”
“Are you crazy? Who do you think I worry about?”
The attending doctor thought something serious had happened until he was urgently called late at night to Yoon Taeo’s residence. Such calls were occasional — scenes stained with blood where someone’s life hung in the balance. Yet it was impossible to visit the hospital. What was odd was the location being Taeo’s home and that Taeo himself had made the call. Taeo — personally contacting someone.
“Stop bothering him and leave.”
With the IV drip still attached, he received medicine for several days. Only after seeing the house fall silent again did Taeo feel relieved.
‘Good thing he’s not seriously hurt. But next time, have Team Leader Kang handle it.’
The secretary had worried about Taeo all the way back home after ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ being kidnapped by some lunatic. The worry was misplaced, but Taeo didn’t point it out. Instead, holding Taeo’s hand tightly, the secretary’s breathing gradually steadied. He seemed to have fallen asleep, but Taeo couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand away. The secretary was timid and probably scared, so it seemed fine to leave him like that for a while. Even though it was another’s warmth, it wasn’t unpleasant.
Yet even after arriving home, the secretary did not move. Taeo checked his pulse and carried him to the room. The secretary seemed to have fainted late after being frightened by what had happened, but Taeo couldn’t just leave him like that. Only after the doctor agreed did Taeo relax.
“Haah...”
The secretary’s condition was still poor. When Taeo covered him with a blanket thinking he might be cold, the secretary sweated profusely and pushed it off. When Taeo wiped the sweat thinking it might be too hot, the secretary curled up as if chilled.
“...I don’t know what to do.”
Taeo even regretted not leaving the doctor alone. This condition was utterly unfamiliar to him. It was the first time he’d seen someone so sick. Being stabbed or shot was easier to deal with. Why did collapsing from mere overwork look like life and death? At least if the secretary were conscious...
Taeo concluded the doctor’s treatment was insufficient. He planned to find a way, whether to move him to a hospital or something else, and was about to get his phone when warmth enveloped his index finger.
“Awake? What the hell, collapsing just from being kidnapped once...”
It was a faint strength. So faint Taeo could barely tell if something touched his finger, not a difference in temperature. He thought the secretary was conscious, but lying on the bed, he didn’t look like he was.
“Ha.”
A disrespectful bastard. Always scanning Taeo with lustful eyes, touching himself wherever possible. Taeo thought it was natural; whether man or woman, Beta or Omega, it was normal to want to touch something good-looking. But even in this unconscious state?
Taeo couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand away, dumbfounded, so he sat beside the bed. Yet even as their differing body temperatures adjusted, Taeo didn’t know what to do next.
“Uh, um...”
The secretary clung to Taeo as if craving warmth, possibly feeling chills again. When Taeo brushed wet bangs aside, his fingertips touched a cold forehead. Cold — face and neck. But if Taeo covered him again, he’d surely throw off the blanket complaining of heat. There was nothing to do; what if hypothermia led to cardiac arrest?
Even after moving away from the bed, Taeo’s finger remained held. Resolving to stay, he lay beside the sleeping secretary and slid his arm under his neck. Like he’d been waiting for it, the secretary wrapped his chest tightly with Taeo’s arm and pressed close.
“...How bold.”
Taeo felt a little hollow. After all his mental wrestling, he came to bed, only to be embraced so easily — without even a glance. Not knowing who the other was.
He wrapped the shoulders of that insolent bastard. This time, one leg climbed over Taeo’s thigh. Everything he did was too natural. Taeo started to suspect.
“Wake up.”
He doubted the secretary was faking sleep to fulfill his desires. But irregular breaths indicated it was just suspicion. The breath sounded like it could freeze white fog.
He couldn’t understand. Heat flooded the room as if the air suddenly became hot, yet this guy still felt cold. Taeo turned to look at him, wrapping his slender waist tightly. Holding shoulders and back for a long time, the breathing gradually calmed.
What a needy bastard. Not even hitting him, yet Taeo felt sick watching someone else get hit, and the secretary collapsed. If sick, just sleep peacefully — that would be best. But he had to be held to sleep comfortably. Who was secretary here, really?
Pat, pat. From the moment Taeo wrapped him, an unlearned gesture lightly tapped his back in a steady rhythm.
“...This is maddening.”
But as the secretary’s breathing calmed, Taeo’s mind twisted. He couldn’t understand, but the guy in his arms only emphasized his presence more over time. The warmth filling his chest, hair tickling his cheek and chin, the weak strength holding Taeo’s waist — all unbearable. More precisely, it was an uncomfortable feeling that was hard to define.
His eyes went to slightly parted lips, fighting the urge to slip his hand inside the wet shirt, and to endure the changes in his own body — none of it was comfortable.
❖ ❖ ❖
Yoon Taeo’s eyes didn’t leave the small phone screen. His brow furrowed in serious concentration.
Wash one cup of rice and soak it in water for about 30 minutes... stir-fry it, add water... when it thickens, it’s done!
“Nothing special.”
It was a video titled ‘Popular with Kids! How to Make Abalone Porridge.’ Taeo only realized belatedly that he should feed porridge to the patient. If he’d known before waking the Michelin-star chef he frequently visited at dawn, he could have ordered it at once. Regret was late, but it didn’t matter much.
Taeo had an unusually keen eye. Though he’d never cooked, he was confident just watching the video. ‘This is 100% doable.’ Sure enough, following the single viewing, he prepared porridge that looked passable. Of course, making porridge with this guy in mind was not an easy feeling. Taeo thought about the secretary constantly — doing all sorts of things for him. He resolved to make him pay double when he woke up.
After preparing everything, a long time passed. The guy, who Taeo expected to regain consciousness soon, showed no sign of waking. Still, the IV was almost finished, and his condition seemed much improved. His forehead felt normal temperature. Soft cheeks, eyelids with long lashes, a nose just about to fall off if pinched — all normal. And the lips, flushed as if all the accumulating heat had gathered there.
Every sensation through Taeo’s fingertips felt strange. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched someone. But the feeling in between was unfamiliar. As a result, Taeo allowed himself many ‘firsts.’ Putting the sweaty guy to bed, placing a wet towel on him, cooking porridge himself, wrapping him in warmth when he had chills.
It was hard to believe all these ‘firsts’ happened in one day, but that wasn’t the end. Strange to say, he didn’t dislike any of it, even if it should have annoyed him one by one. Worse, he even had wicked thoughts watching the sick man. And the first time he repressed his own boiling feelings alone.
He just wanted him to wake up quickly. To be unharmed. For that noisy mouth to open again, distracting him. To look back at him with that disrespectful gaze. That was a very unfamiliar wish. When he gently stroked the secretary’s cheek cautiously, as if fearing it might crumble, the corner of the mouth lifted faintly in response.
That’s how feelings work. Silently, without a trace, a tiny seed flies into a corner of the heart, sprouts and blooms without being noticed. Even while ignoring it, it grows steadily until one day you look back to find what once seemed a barren field covered in strange flowers.
Long after, when asked when it began, Yoon Taeo would recall this day. It couldn’t be said precisely, but it was the day he most clearly recognized the reality of his feelings. From that day, the faint fog that once covered Baek Sieon’s face completely vanished.
Although many exceptions and many firsts toward one person meant only one thing, Taeo didn’t realize it. A feeling had already flown in and sprouted in his heart.
“I’m done.”
And by the time Yoon Taeo properly faced the blossoming garden in his chest, it was already too late.
