Swallow Hunting Chapter 63

I almost fucked up thinking the downhill would be easy. He helped on the way up, and he ended up helping on the way down too. My feet kept slipping on the slope, and Lee Kangjoo caught more than once before I could crash flat on my ass.

I said it was because I’d run out of strength, my thighs trembling like crazy as I made excuses. Then Lee Kangjoo teased with a comnt that could easily be misunderstood.

“Cha Haejun has weak stamina.”

And yet, while saying that, he willingly held my hand.

I kept listing excuses — the path was slippery, my legs wouldn’t cooperate — and didn’t let go of his hand until we reached the main road. I’d thought I’d learned every trick in the book after living as a swallow all this ti, but my excuses for holding his hand were worse than those of the cheating couples we’d passed earlier.

The realization made feel pathetic, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to hold that hand just a little longer. I didn’t want to lose the feeling of our palms pressed together. The warmth climbing up through my wrist made the corners of my mouth rise on their own. I had to cover my mouth like I was coughing so he wouldn’t notice.

Restaurants were lined up at the base of the mountain. It was that awkward ti between lunch and dinner, so there weren’t many people around.

I tugged at Lee Kangjoo’s arm and led him to the place I’d picked out beforehand. The exterior looked shabby, but No Eunjae had sent a link, saying it was a hidden gem that regular hikers knew about.

This place is insanely good. On weekends it’s a basic 2-hour wait so you gotta go on a weekday.

The way he’d added all those details felt almost like pressure to make sure I went. It didn’t seem like a lie — even at this in-between hour, the place was full. Just as we arrived, one group left, so we were able to go straight in.

It was a single-nu place, so the table was set without us even ordering. On top of a burner sat a huge pot, a whole chicken inside showing off its pale flesh. It was packed with all kinds of mushrooms and plenty of chives.

“We’ve gotta replenish our energy. They say the boiled chicken here is the best.”

After hiking, you have to eat this mushroom chicken stew — that’s what No Eunjae had insisted. Certain he’d praise the choice, I puffed out my chest proudly. Maybe, like at the summit, he’d call good and stroke my head again.

I was subtly waiting for his touch when a completely unexpected reaction burst out.

A muffled sound of laughter.

I blinked and looked at Lee Kangjoo. His shoulders and hands were shaking slightly. He lowered his head and covered his mouth, so I couldn’t see his expression clearly. Then a bright, open laugh — one I’d never heard from him before — spilled out.

My mouth fell open.

It felt like witnessing sothing the world had never seen before. Like I was the first person ever to discover it. I stood there, dazed, engraving the sight into my mory. The laughter that rang out, the eyes curved softly, the face genuinely amused — it carved itself deep into my brain.

It wasn’t that strange, satisfied expression he made while shoving his dick down my throat and laughing. This was different. This was sudden, pure enjoynt bursting out in a mont even he hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t see this coming.”

“......”

“Cha Haejun looks like a kid, but your taste is sothing else.”

He said sothing, but I couldn’t hear it. The noise around cut off all at once, and all that remained was the pounding in my ears.

They’d said when your body’s tired, your heart gets stirred. I’d wanted his heart to waver — I’d never wanted to beco a leaf dropped into a rushing river myself.

I shouldn’t have co to the mountain.

I squeezed my aching thigh hard, trying to shock myself back to my senses with pain. It didn’t work. The sound of his laughter lingered deep in my ears.

* * *

I leaned blankly against my bike. A few calls popped up, but I didn’t accept them. I’d run around hard in the morning. Couldn’t I rest a little now?

Yohan seed to feel the sa. He sprawled out beside . From a distance, we probably looked like two lazy sloths.

“Park Yohan,” I called, staring up at the sky.

Without even looking at , flipping through shorts on his phone, he answered, “Yeah.”

“Is mushroom chicken stew funny?”

“What?”

“Is mushroom chicken stew funny?”

“Why would it be funny? That shit’s expensive.”

He frowned at . He even added that laughing in front of boiled chicken was an insult to the chicken’s sacrifice. In front of any kind of at, you’re supposed to be solemn, he said.

“Right? It’s not funny, right?”

Then why had Lee Kangjoo laughed like that?

Even though I’d been exhausted from hiking, I couldn’t sleep when I got ho and lay down. Even with my eyes closed, his laughing face floated in the darkness. No matter what I did, I couldn’t erase it. I ended up staying up all night with bloodshot eyes, only barely falling asleep at dawn.

I fiddled with an empty energy drink can. I’d felt dazed all day, like soone had smashed the back of my head with a baseball bat. Even pouring caffeine into myself didn’t help.

“Well, I guess it would be kinda funny if you ordered it.”

Yohan, who’d been outraged about disrespecting at, suddenly changed his tune. I was half-reclined against the bike seat and slowly turned my head.

“Why?”

“A kid your age already eating stamina food.”

“Since when does boiled chicken have an age requirent?”

Over Yohan’s loud laugh, I heard Lee Kangjoo’s again. I’d never touched drugs in my life, but he’d left with hallucinations and phantom sounds that wouldn’t leave my daily life. If he were a drug, he’d be so vicious new substance that drags you straight into addiction the mont you try it.

“It’s sothing middle-aged hiking clubs eat all the ti. It’s like a symbol of stamina and vitality. Chives, native chicken, rare mushrooms. Of course it’s funny if so young kid orders that.”

“Is that so.”

“Why? Did soone laugh their ass off at your stew?”

I hesitated. I flipped the empty can upside down, drained the last drop onto my tongue, and tossed it into the trash.

Maybe it was just a passing question — Yohan didn’t press further. Instead, he lightly jabbed my side with his elbow.

“Anyway. You’re really not taking the Jeju madam? Today’s the last chance.”

“I’m not.”

I refused more firmly than before. Yohan clicked his tongue, displeased at the thought of such a valuable opportunity going to waste.

“Why. Because of that bastard?”

“......”

Silence was as good as a yes. Yohan let out a long, heavy sigh.

Cha Haejun might grin no matter what, but sotis he’d show a stubbornness that could rival a bull. When that happened, nothing got through. Just like now.

Before, at least I’d hesitated and calculated. Now I flat-out refused.

That damn stubbornness — never used when it’s needed, always used when it’s useless. If he were really my little brother, I’d have smacked the back of his head and yelled at him to wake the fuck up. But even if we’re like brothers, there’s a line. So I just clenched my fists and trembled instead.

Yohan exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. No point in talking more. It’d just make {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} his own mouth tired, like arguing with a wall.

“Later, ask that bastard to build you a morial gate for virtuous widows.”

“A morial gate, my ass.”

“Fucking frustrating.”

Yohan scrubbed at his hair and dropped his gaze back to his phone. Then, like sothing suddenly hit him, he snapped his head toward .

I was still staring blankly into space. The winter wind had reddened the tip of my nose, my cheeks, my lips — but my eyes looked like so idiot kid caught in a spring breeze.

“You little shit... I told you not to give your heart, didn’t I? And in the end...”

“I didn’t. And anyway, it’s over in three months.”

Yohan shut his mouth and stared at . At so point, I’d gotten up from the bike seat and was lightly kicking at the ground. My eyes were lowered, looking more sullen than I realized.

Didn’t, my ass.

Telling not to give my heart didn’t work. Telling to find other clients didn’t work either. Instead of repeating the sa advice he’d given a hundred tis before, Yohan suddenly raised his hand and ssed up my hair violently. Growling under his breath, he rubbed it hard with both hands, venting his frustration. I struggled to break free.

“What the hell are you doing all of a sudden!”

“Because you only ever choose the shit I don’t like.”

“When did I!”

I snapped back. Yohan crossed his arms and glared at . Maybe sothing hit too close to ho, because I muttered,

“It’s just that I can’t et other people during the contract period. It’s not that I have feelings. ...Seriously. I an it.”

I mumbled the weak excuse while avoiding his eyes.

Yohan clenched his teeth so hard a dent showed in his jaw. Three months or not, he couldn’t just watch hang off a client and stress myself sick like this.

If that client were a decent office worker, so rich sucker, maybe it’d be different. But this guy reeked of blood — all polished face and worse than any swallow — that’s what made Yohan bristle even more.

This is what happens when you don’t et enough people. Your world stays narrow. You need a wider view to figure out how to climb out of a hole.

Forming his own plan, Yohan swung a leg over his bike.

Right now, what I needed wasn’t just money. More than anything, I needed soone generous and warm enough to cradle like a mother bird.