Strategic Mating Partner Chapter 36

Sejin still couldn’t understand Taehyun. It wasn’t simply that he could be dismissed as a strange person. It was because, while Taehyun acted like he was constantly and aggressively pushing Sejin into a corner, he never actually followed through. This made it impossible for Sejin to relax. He was experiencing a mix of wariness, fear, and… something he himself couldn’t define, a sense of expectation, all jumbled together in a chaotic mess regarding this opponent he’d never encountered before.

“…….”

Sejin stared intently at Taehyun for a moment, then abruptly asked,

“What are you worried about?”

Because I might go around hitting people again? But that fight happened because that guy started it first. What was he supposed to do against those idiots who were tormenting him from the very beginning with the intention of bullying him? Was his very existence as an outsider wrong, so he should have just shut up and endured the humiliation as they dictated? Taehyun answered without hesitation to the question Sejin threw at him, his lips pressed together so tightly they’d lost all color.

“Just… this and that? It’s my personality. I can’t just ignore kids like you.”

The choice of the word “kid” had a clear intention. Kids of that age were full of contradictions. They wanted to keep whining like children, wanted the people around them to cater to them, wanted them to understand their hardships, but they also hated being treated blatantly like children.

The current Sejin didn’t have a single person he could act spoiled around, a privilege kids his age should have. He was holding onto all the disadvantages of being a child while being forced to endure a loneliness that would be difficult for even most adults to bear. So, what Sejin clearly needed now was to be treated like a kid. To be told that he didn’t have to be so on edge, that he, too, had someone to lean on when times were tough. But as expected, as if the word “kid” had struck a nerve, Sejin retorted in a still sharp voice.

“I’m not a kid.”

However, Taehyun didn’t back down.

“There are almost no kids younger than you on this Olympic team. Maybe two or three at most. Besides, you said it’s your first time in Korea. How can anyone not be concerned about an eighteen-year-old Korean-age kid coming here alone without family?”

Sejin countered Taehyun’s reply.

“I don’t know why you’re getting involved.”

Everyone else seemed unconcerned. At most, they seemed to care a little at the beginning, but as soon as the hazing within the team took root, they neglected him, saying he also had to go through this once to find his place. While they said they were waiting for the athletes to bond, they were essentially leaving Sejin, a rookie with no one to lean on, until he lowered his head and submitted.

So, it was confusing why this person, who wasn’t even in the same sport and had no connection other than belonging to the same agency, was concerned about him. Kindness without a discernible reason was frightening. Because Sejin couldn’t anticipate what Taehyun wanted from him, what his purpose was. Despite Sejin’s barbed words, Taehyun still spoke with a smile.

“It’s just that I worry the most.”

“About what? What are you so worried about?”

“Hmm….”

Sejin was annoyed by the nonchalance that remained on Taehyun’s face. The anxiety that all his struggles might be futile continued to sharpen his nerves. Finally, Taehyun, having organized his thoughts, opened his mouth again.

“That you’ll come here, only get hurt, and go back? It’s tough. Coming to a place you barely know, surrounded by strangers, only hearing things you don’t want to hear.”

Taehyun’s words made Sejin’s heart clench.

“It’s none of your business.”

The only words he could say, the words he wanted to say, were still barbed, and Sejin felt ashamed of himself. He wanted to run away, anywhere. Anywhere without this person would do. But Taehyun didn’t avoid Sejin’s gaze and met it head-on, like someone without fear. Then, he smiled lightly and replied.

“That’s true. But like I said before, I tend to be nosy.”

The moment Taehyun’s lips curved into a gentle arc, and his firm, masculine eyes looked at Sejin, Sejin felt his heart constrict again.

“I’ve confirmed you’re doing well, so that’s enough. I’ll go today. Finish up well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“…….”

Then, without waiting for Sejin’s reply, Taehyun left the training room without a second glance. Left alone again, Sejin found the ensuing silence so unbearably lonely that he sat down on the floor.

It was a strange feeling. The annoying person was gone, so he should feel better, but he felt even more nauseous. The fact that he had been constantly checking the clock to see when Taehyun would come, the fact that he had felt relieved that Taehyun hadn’t given up on him when he opened the door and came in, all of it displeased him. In the midst of all this, Taehyun’s final words hit him like a punch to the gut.

‘It’s tough. Coming to a place you barely know, surrounded by strangers, only hearing things you don’t want to hear.’

Taehyun had zeroed in on the point where Sejin had thought no one would care about his struggles, like aiming at a target. With that one insignificant sentence, Sejin felt as if the wall he had painstakingly built was crumbling down. Who are you? Why? He wanted to reject him, saying he didn’t need pity, but he couldn’t. Tears, which hadn’t come when he was insulted by those senior bastards, when he was rejected by the coach he indirectly asked for help, when he was slapped and grabbed by the collar, now poured out like a broken dam.

“Huu, hu, hiccup…. Ugh….”

Sejin curled up, sat down, covered his head, and cried. Sobs he’d barely suppressed escaped from the back of his throat. He didn’t want to run away. Fencing was Sejin’s whole world. It was frustrating that the dream stage he’d aimed for his whole life was being hindered by insignificant people he never thought could affect him, and it was suffocating that everyone around him acted as if it was something he just had to endure. No one listened to him properly, and everyone said that he, the outsider, was the problem, and he didn’t know what to do.

Would that person understand? Would he listen if Sejin talked? Would he understand if Sejin explained why he felt this way, what he wanted to do?

‘I’ve confirmed you’re doing well, so that’s enough.’

That one light sentence didn’t give him any hope that Taehyun would understand him. But even such a straw of hope, he couldn’t reject it now. He hated himself for wavering. What does he know to say such things? Rebelliousness and vague hope rose from his toes. Maybe, just maybe….

“…….”

Meanwhile, Taehyun, leaning against the training room door, listening to the sounds coming from inside, felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Loneliness is a human instinct. It was a fundamental emotion that visited anyone regardless of age or gender the moment they became alone. It wasn’t that Taehyun didn’t experience loneliness, and he was still going through many flawed and difficult times, but there was one thing he could do. Easing the loneliness of others simply by being there was an easy thing he could do. Only after the crying from inside subsided did Taehyun quietly leave the center building, muffling his footsteps.

Thinking about ‘absolute rest,’ he should go straight back to his studio apartment, but Taehyun, wanting to clear his head, caught a taxi and headed somewhere. The place he arrived at after a 50-minute drive from Seoul was a charnel house in the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province. Because it was late in the evening, there weren’t many people coming and going. Taehyun got out of the taxi after casually thanking the driver, who recognized him, for his support.

“…….”

Without a word, Taehyun headed to the ossuary where the coach who raised him was interred. The man in the picture was standing next to his wife, smiling brightly. Another picture decorating the ossuary showed Taehyun and other athletes the man had coached, all pictured together. Next to it, the medal Taehyun had won at the last Asian Games shone with a yellow light.

“…Coach.”

There was no answer to the short call.

“I told you back then I didn’t understand. Why couldn’t I just ignore it and go?”

Taehyun muttered, smiling bitterly at the person who could no longer give him an answer.

“This is how it feels. Like I really can’t turn away too. In case something bad happens.”

Nosiness and kindness, those were the most fatal techniques Taehyun had learned from the man.