My deep soul

Chapter 17

The sun was dipping low when Jinyoen finally finished stitching the last wound. Her fingers were trembling from exhaustion, her hair clinging to her temple. She sighed with relief as the line of battered Hwarangs dwindled to none—until one more young man appeared, shy but smiling.

She greeted him warmly. “Come, sit. Let me see.”

Hansung bowed slightly, his boyish face alight. “I see what people say about you is true.”

Jinyoen tilted her head. “What people say?”

“That you’re kind. And beautiful.” His words came out before he could stop them, and he blushed furiously.

Her cheeks warmed, but she only smiled softly. “I think this wound will need stitching. It will hurt.”

Hansung puffed his chest. “That doesn’t matter. I can endure it.”

She laughed lightly. “You look young for such bravery. How old are you?”

“Older than you,” he murmured in a low voice, desperate to appear grown in her eyes.

That only made her giggle. She handed him a root. “Here, chew this. It will help.”

“No need. I’m a man. I can bear it.”

She shook her head at his stubbornness and began stitching. When his jaw tightened, she teased gently, “Please, orabeoni, don’t act so tough.”

Hansung’s eyes widened, shining. “Orabeoni…? You called me orabeoni!” He repeated it with delight, chewing the root anyway.

Jinyoen chuckled and finished wrapping his hand. Once he left, she exhaled heavily, slumping onto a bench. Her body longed for rest.

But the doors flew open again. Jidiwi strode inside, his gaze sharp, searching—and then softening when it landed on her.

“So, you are here.”

She blinked up at him. “Jidiwi. Did you see orabeoni? I didn’t—”

“Is he all you can think about?” His voice was harsher than he intended, laced with something he couldn’t name. “There’s a patient in front of you right now.”

“Oh!” She scrambled closer to him, guilt flashing in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jidiwi. Let me check.” Without hesitation, she cupped his face between her hands, her thumbs brushing lightly along his cheeks. “Where does it hurt?”

The touch stunned him. Warmth spread where her fingers lingered. For a heartbeat, he only stared at her, drinking in her closeness. Then he covered her hands gently, lowering them.

“Come with me,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly rough. Before she could protest, he guided her out, leading her to a small, quiet building nearby.

“Jidiwi—what are you—”

“Sit,” he ordered softly. He sat beside her, his shoulders tense, as though holding back words. Then, slowly, he leaned back until his head rested on her shoulder, his breath brushing against her neck.

Jinyoen froze, her heart hammering. “You… you’re not going to sleep like this, are you?”

“I am,” he murmured, eyes half-shut. “Because somehow… you have this effect on me.”

Her lips parted. “I can’t. I should go—”

But before she could rise, his hand caught hers. His grip was firm yet trembling with quiet desperation. “Please. Just for thirty minutes. I promise I won’t do anything more. Just… let me sleep.”

The raw honesty in his voice weakened her. Slowly, she sat again. He shifted, laying his head on her lap. The intimacy of it sent a rush of heat to her cheeks, but she did not push him away.

Jidiwi’s breathing slowed, his features softening in rare peace. His voice, low and almost drowsy, brushed against her heart. “I don’t know if you’re a real physician or not. But you are my medicine. I think… I’m addicted to you.”

Her fingers hovered uncertainly above his hair, then, before she could stop herself, she let them rest lightly, brushing a stray strand from his forehead.

A small smile curved his lips as sleep finally claimed him, leaving Jinyoen staring down at him with a heart that would not calm.