Good Night, Champion
Ha Ije.
She let out a long, heavy sigh. Her shoulders sagged as the tension drained from her body, and the hallway light settled softly over her black hair.
"...You're alive, at least."
She shoved the convenience-store bag into Geum Hyuk's stomach. A drink can and a bag of snacks knocked together inside.
"You weren't answering at all. I thought you were dead."
"...Ah."
Geum Hyuk scratched his head. Gold hair slipped through his fingers.
I never even checked.
He'd been too busy drinking with Hwang Jinsu. After that, he'd been glued to the online reactions to the match.
"Sorry. I was drinking, and..."
"Whatever. Just go in."
Ha Ije brushed past him as if shoving him aside, then walked straight into the apartment without the slightest hesitation. Even the way she kicked off her shoes at the entrance was effortless — as natural as a ritual she'd performed hundreds of times.
...She's completely at home here.
Lee Woojin was thrown off. The casualness with which she walked in, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Even for childhood friends, this was coming and going from her own house.
Ha Ije set the convenience-store bag on the table and opened the refrigerator.
"I'm grabbing some water."
She pulled out a plastic bottle and drank in long gulps. Her pale throat moved with each swallow, and a single clear droplet traced her jawline before coming to rest on her collarbone. Then she started rummaging through the fridge again.
"Have you eaten? What did you have after the match?"
"Pork belly."
"And alcohol?"
"...A little."
"How much is a little?"
"Four bottles of soju..."
"Four bottles?!"
Ha Ije spun around. Her eyes were terrifying — sharp, triangular, catching the light like blades.
"You downed four bottles of soju the second the match ended?! Do you ever think about your body?!"
"Jinsu said we should drink. Said it was a good day."
"I'm giving him a piece of my mind next time I see him!"
Ha Ije grumbled as she pulled something from the fridge.
An ice pack.
"Sit."
"...Okay."
Geum Hyuk sat obediently on the sofa. The old leather creaked as it took his weight. Ha Ije sat down beside him and pressed the ice pack to his face. The cushion sank, naturally closing the distance between them.
It was cold. The chill seeped into his swollen skin.
"Hold still."
"That hurts."
"Of course it hurts after taking that many hits. Look at your face."
Ha Ije's hand caught his chin and turned his face this way and that. Her touch was gentle but firm. His eyelid was swollen. A bruise sat on his cheekbone, and his lip was split. Under the light, the damage showed even more clearly.
"...This is a complete mess."
Ha Ije sighed and stood. She walked to a shelf on the far side of the living room and pulled something out with practiced ease. A moment later she returned with a first-aid kit, opened it, and took out disinfectant wipes and ointment. There wasn't a hint of hesitation in her hands.
"...Ah."
"What."
"Sorry. For making you go through the trouble."
"If it were trouble, I wouldn't have come."
Ha Ije dabbed the disinfectant wipe against the cut on his lip.
"Ngh...!"
"Bear it."
"It stings."
"It's supposed to sting."
Her hands were familiar. As if she'd done this dozens of times — hundreds of times. Even the pressure of her fingers on the wipe was perfect, calibrated to hurt as little as possible.
Lee Woojin understood, then, that the relationship between these two ran far deeper than anything the game had ever established.
In Fighter of Legend, Ha Ije was mentioned as little more than Geum Hyuk's childhood friend. She sent the occasional cheering message. She stood by him when things got hard. That was the whole of her role.
But the Ha Ije standing in this living room was different. She walked into his home as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She opened his refrigerator without asking. She knew exactly where the first-aid kit was kept. And the way she treated his wounds was so practiced it barely registered as a kindness.
This is a part the game never showed.
All the countless ordinary days hidden behind a single word — childhood friend. The time they'd spent together. The relationship they'd built, layer upon layer. All of it was contained in this one moment.
"...Your face, seriously..."
Ha Ije muttered.
"Hm?"
"It must have hurt. I couldn't tell watching it on TV..."
Her hands stopped. Silence settled over them. The only sound was the air purifier humming in the background.
And then Geum Hyuk noticed.
Ha Ije's hands were trembling. The fingers holding the disinfectant wipe were shaking, just barely. At first he thought he'd imagined it. But looking closer, there was no mistake.
"...Ije?"
"..."
Ha Ije lowered her head. Her black hair fell across her face, long strands cascading to her waist like a curtain.
"...I was scared."
A small voice.
"Watching the match... you just kept getting hit, all the way through the third round. I kept thinking, what if you go down... what if you get really hurt..."
Her voice trembled. It was nothing like the bold Ha Ije from a moment ago.
"You just stood there taking punches like an idiot... I really..."
She sniffled.
"...I was scared, okay?"
Something tightened in Geum Hyuk's chest. And at the same time, something else stirred — not the beast's instinct, but a feeling more primitive than that. The urge to comfort her. The need to pull those trembling shoulders into his arms.
Geum Hyuk's hand began to move on its own.
Wait.
Lee Woojin's reason slammed on the brakes.
I'm not the real Geum Hyuk.
The person Ha Ije was worried about was Geum Hyuk. The childhood friend she'd grown up with. She was spending her feelings on him, burning through her emotions, shedding tears — for that Geum Hyuk.
Not for Lee Woojin. Not for the stranger who had taken up residence in this body.
His hand stopped.
Lee Woojin didn't know what to do. He wanted to comfort her. But did he have the right? Was a fake allowed to offer comfort in the real one's place?
An awkward silence stretched between them. A few seconds that felt much longer. The ticking of the clock sounded unnaturally loud.
Ha Ije lifted her head first. The corners of her eyes were slightly wet, but she forced the edges of her mouth up into a smile.
"...Ugh, what. Now it's all weird."
"..."
"Forget it. I wasn't crying. I don't cry. I'm not gonna cry, okay?"
Ha Ije rubbed at the corners of her eyes as she spoke. The way she wiped them with the back of her hand was clumsy.
"Still... you won."
She looked at Geum Hyuk, smiling with wet eyes. The moisture at the corners caught the living room light and glittered.
In that instant, Ha Ije threw her arms around him. Her slender arms wrapped around Geum Hyuk's broad back, and the faint beat of her heart carried through to his chest.
"...!"
Geum Hyuk's eyes went wide.
Her small frame settled into his arms. The scent of her shampoo brushed his nose — a faint mix of lavender and vanilla. Warmth pressed against his chest.
"...You fought well."
Ha Ije patted his back. Each time her small palm met that broad expanse, a little more warmth passed through.
"You really... you really fought well."
His heart hammered. Lee Woojin felt his own face flush along with it.
No — wait. Is this Geum Hyuk's feeling, or mine...
He couldn't tell. Whether it was this body's heart pounding, or his own heart stirring. The boundary between them had gone blurry.
Geum Hyuk's hand moved, awkward and uncertain, and came to rest on Ha Ije's back. Through the thin fabric he could feel the outline of her spine. He patted her once, then again.
It was warm.
He thought he might have been missing this warmth all along. The kind of warmth Lee Woojin had never known in five years of sitting in front of a monitor. The feeling of being worried over by someone. The joy of being celebrated by someone.
Ha Ije let go and stepped back. Her face was faintly red. The color had reached all the way to her ears.
"...Uh, anyway!"
She cleared her throat, forcibly changing the subject.
"We still have to finish treating you! Sit down!"
"...Okay."
Geum Hyuk sat back down on the sofa without protest. Ha Ije came over again, ointment in hand. Her movements were clumsier than before. She dropped the cap while opening the tube, picked it up, opened it again. The tips of her fingers were trembling, just slightly.
"...Are your hands shaking?"
"Th-they're not! What, I'm not allowed to shake?!"
"No, I just..."
Ha Ije squeezed out the ointment and began spreading it over his cheekbone. Her soft fingertips brushed his skin. The cool sensation of the ointment spread across it.
"...Tell me if it hurts."
"It doesn't."
"Liar."
"I'm serious."
"If you look away when you say it, it's a lie."
Geum Hyuk laughed.
"Kyakya."
"What's so funny. Is this really a laughing situation?"
"No, just..."
Geum Hyuk looked at her. Her brows were faintly furrowed in concentration, that serious expression she wore as she treated his wounds. Her long eyelashes cast shadows, and her full lips were slightly pursed.
"Thanks."
"...What?"
"For worrying about me."
Ha Ije's hands stopped.
"...You idiot."
She glared at him. It was an angry look, but a droplet of water clung to the tip of her eyelash and glittered.
"You make me worry and then say thanks like that settles it..."
Her voice grew smaller.
"...You're such an idiot."
The night grew late. City lights glowed faintly beyond the window, and the night air had begun to turn cool.
Ha Ije stood up.
"I'm heading out."
"Okay."
"Go to the hospital tomorrow."
"Got it."
"That's a promise."
"Yeah."
He walked her to the door. The hallway light flickered dimly. Ha Ije opened it, then turned back.
"Hyuk."
"Yeah?"
"...You fought well. I mean it."
Then she smiled, lightly. The tear tracks from earlier had already dried, but the corners of her eyes were still faintly red.
The door closed.
Her footsteps receded, then changed to the sound of her descending the stairs. And then there was nothing.
Geum Hyuk stood looking at the closed door for a moment. His chest was warm. A feeling of something being filled — as if warmth were seeping into a space that had sat empty for five years.
He returned to the living room and stood by the window.
Looking out, he could see Ha Ije stepping out of the apartment entrance. Her small figure walked beneath the streetlights. She stopped, lifted her head, and looked up — toward the window where Geum Hyuk was standing. For a brief moment, their eyes seemed to meet.
Ha Ije waved. Then she turned the corner and was gone.
Geum Hyuk stood at the window for a long time.