Chapter 16. This Makes It Seem Like I'm Seducing
I arrived at Chae-ah's place carrying the porridge and cold medicine I'd made myself.
On the way over, I'd worried she'd hear the doorbell and drag herself to the door.
But right before I reached it, Chae-ah eased that concern for me.
She'd sent me the door lock code via KakaoTalk.
Aren't you trusting me a bit too much?
Her casual KakaoTalk sharing the code like it was nothing left me a little flustered.
It meant she trusted me that much.
We hadn't even spent enough time together to build up trust like that.
"Chae-ah, porridge delivery."
"Cough cough... Unni... you here?"
"Why come out? Lie down."
"But... Unni came... cough cough...!"
Chae-ah opened the inner door wearing a mask to greet me.
She looked a total wreck.
Her face flushed from the fever, sweat drenching her whole body.
Even just standing seemed tough—she leaned on the doorframe now and then.
"…"
"Unni?"
"Oh, yeah. Let's get inside quick."
I zoned out for a second watching the sweat beads roll down from her chest into that deep cleavage.
What the hell am I thinking with a sick girl right here?
"Cough cough…"
"Inside, quick."
"Yeees…"
Worried she'd collapse, I supported her shoulder and guided her to her room.
"Haven't... cleaned... super messy…"
"It's fine. Patients don't worry about that."
"Still…"
I sat her on the bed, set up the porridge I'd brought, and scooped up a spoonful.
"Here, ahh."
"I'll feed myself…"
"Patients stay put."
"Yeees… ahhh…"
"How's it? Cooled off on the way, so shouldn't be too hot."
"Munch munch… sniff… huek…"
"Ch-Chae-ah…?!"
It'd been ages since I'd made porridge myself, so I tensed up waiting for her take.
Then her reaction cranked my nerves even higher.
Chae-ah munched on the spoonful, then suddenly tears welled up.
"Sniff heuk… waaah…!"
"W-Why cry out of nowhere?!"
"I... really thought... I'd die like this... waaah!"
"Die? Cut it out. Stop crying."
"No meds at home... no food... Mom and Dad on a trip far away... waaah…!"
The utter helplessness must've hit her hard.
I'd felt the same when I first started living alone.
They say getting sick alone is the worst part of solo life.
"I'm here now. It'll be okay. Stop…"
"Stop… sniff heuk…"
"Blow your nose."
I tore off two tissues and handed them over—no pretending to be dainty just 'cause I was there.
"Yeees… kkhueeeng! Hwa…"
"What lungs."
"Ugh… don't say that…"
"Feeling better?"
"Yeees… Unni... thank you so much…"
"Eat up and recover quick."
I climbed onto the bed and fed her spoonful by spoonful.
She'd open wide like a baby bird whenever the spoon neared—oddly adorable.
"Munch munch… so good…"
"Glad."
"Unni's great at cooking too."
"Long time solo—just basics."
"Ahh… munch… yummy… Unni, one favor?"
I had no clue what she'd ask, but after suffering alone all day, I'd grant anything.
"Yeah, sure. What?"
"Airplane me."
"Airplane?"
"You know, shwooo and feed."
"…You sick?"
"Cough cough…! Cough cough cough! Ugh… gonna die…"
Fake-coughing to dodge? Imagination?
"Just eat."
"Aaah! Please… suffered tons today."
"Chae-ah, you're 21."
"Eungae, baby Chae-ah dunno that."
Easy pride dump for that.
Has she got any?
"Eungae… Yui mommy, shwooo airplane pleeease."
"Sigh… insane."
Fists up, feet stomping.
Do I really gotta?
"Aaah… shwooo airplane."
I'm the type who hates that stuff.
Makes my toes curl just hearing it—way too much.
"Once only."
"Yeeeeng…"
Patient service mindset—I gritted and lifted the spoon high.
"Sh-shwoooo…"
"Aaah!"
"Ai-airplane... landing…"
"Ahh! Yummyyy!"
"Doing all kinds now."
"Heh, thaaanks."
Chae-ah beamed satisfied, but my spoon-grip fingers shriveled in massive shame.
At our age asking that—I never did.
"Finish up."
"Yes, Unni!"
Fed her the rest, dosed the meds, tucked her comfy.
"Sleep deep. Better on wake-up."
"Unni, tough day huh?"
"Nah."
"Liar. Face super tired-looking."
"Told you—patients rest, no worries."
Sat on floor, elbows on bed, chin propped.
Chae-ah stroked my arm soft, then gripped gently.
"Cough cough!"
"See? Still hacking."
"Work tomorrow."
"No. Not till full recovery."
"But…"
"Boss says so. Employee."
"Meaaan…"
Rare breed in my work life.
Most milk any ache for days off, scheme extras.
One like her in ten? Impressive.
"Where'd this diligent one drop from."
"Heh…"
"No need come. Real."
"You'll struggle solo."
Still, work fire burned bright tomorrow.
Not just duty—affection for me too.
Not impure, though.
"Heal full, wish granted."
"Real?"
"Yeah. Focus recover."
"Wear that then."
"That?"
"Nurse cosplay."
Straight to it—wanted me in it since spotting.
"Suits me best?"
"Yess. Heh…"
"Got it. All yours—rest, no work thoughts."
"Unni heading home?"
"When you sleep."
Her hand clutched my collar hard.
Tiny tremble—unignorable.
"So clingy."
"Stay whole time?"
Her pleading eyes shook with fear.
Like bad past deja vu.
"Scary…"
"What?"
"Kid days... sick like now, parents traveling."
"Yeah?"
"Alone sick... ambulance once…"
Past clicked—tremble, eyes all made sense.
Leave after that? Impossible.
"Feels like again…"
Pried her trembling hand from sleeve, clasped gently.
"Stay till better. Good?"
"Real…?"
"Yeah. No worry—sleep."
"Promise…"
Pinky out—small, thin, quivering fragile.
"Promise."
Hooked—tremble stopped.
Chae-ah smiled, drifted peaceful.
"Unni."
"Yeah, Chae-ah."
"Truly thankful."
"Your good work earned it."
"Bad worker, no this?"
"Duh."
"Heh, glad good employee."
Eyes shut slow, soon soft snores.
Dimmed lights for easy sleep, cleared bowl.
"Shower time."
Her raspy voice nagged—no wash before rushing with porridge, meds.
Same clothes tomorrow AM home-change-work plan.
Washing warm in her bath then—
"Unni…? Unni! Unni where?!"
Desperate calls beyond door.
Almost done—answer after planned.
"Unni… huek… waaah!"
Loud wail slammed ears again.
"Ch-Chae-ah! Here!"
Forgot towel—dashed out.
"Unni… thought home…"
"Just shower. Promised stay."
"Sniff… relief…"
Cry from short absence? Wild.
Trauma that deep?
"Good now?"
"Yeees… sorry…"
"Nah. Shoulda said—my bad."
"But Unni… naked?"
"Huh? You bawled sudden—ran."
Teary eyes scanned top-down slow.
Full-body once-over clear.
"Hear eyeballs roll."
"S-sexy…"
"Sleep. Dry off coming."
"Unni, sweat sticky... wipe me?"
Her face burned red.
Not fever—other reason.
Real sticky? Or ulterior?
"R-real sticky…"
"Today only."
"Yes Unni."
"Bit wait."
"Oh clothes—any drawer fine."
"Yeah thx."
Back bath drying, mirror glance.
Not seducing—what's this?