Chapter 9

　　"Even with amnesia, your reactions are exactly the same. You did this the first time, too—only you were drinking orange juice when I told you, and you spit it out just like that."

　　Junghyun laughed, pulling a tissue from the sleek dispenser on the coffee table and handing it over. I frantically wiped down the sofa instead of my own mouth.

　　This is velvet. Isn’t it going to stain?

　　Even after having a bombshell like that dropped on me, my poverty-stricken brain was prioritizing the furniture.

　　"So…"

　　"Sorry, hold on a second." I cut him off, inspecting the purple splatter on the cushions with eagle eyes. Okay, good. It can still be salvaged.

　　"Do you have any spot cleaner or detergent? I need to scrub this out fast before it sets."

　　"We can just buy a new one. Don’t worry about it."

　　Yeah, rich people truly were built entirely different from the ground up. I was mildly in awe, but at the same time, the ingrained cheapskate inside me fiercely reared its head. Money was money, even when it belonged to someone else.

　　"How much did this cost?"

　　"Not much."

　　I didn’t trust a rich person’s definition of not much for a second. I knew damn well their daily grocery budget eclipsed my monthly food allowance.

　　"Under five thousand dollars, or over?"

　　"Mm…"

　　"Okay, say no more. Where’s the kitchen? I’m grabbing the dish soap."

　　"Just leave it. I’ll send it out to be professionally cleaned. I was planning on doing that anyway."

　　"What a total waste of money. If you just scrub it with some soap right now, it comes right out."

　　I popped up from the sofa, scanned the sprawling room, and looked back at him.

　　"Which way is the kitchen?"

　　"I’ll go get it."

　　"No, I need to check the ingredients on the label to make sure it won’t bleach the fabric. It’s better if I just go."

　　That was my excuse, anyway, but honestly? I just didn’t trust him. When a guy looked that pristine and lived in a mansion in the sky, there was a ninety-nine percent chance he’d never washed a single dish in his life. Would he even know what dish soap looked like? In BL novels, guys like him were entirely helpless in the kitchen.

　　Plus, I had an ulterior motive.

　　The illegitimate child of a chaebol family?

　　That backstory practically screamed Top Material. He was the classic "wounded top," emotionally scarred by his cold, demanding father. The subtly self-loathing top. Usually, guys with that exact character profile lived a life of slow, quiet self-destruction until they met a bright, bubbly "sunshine bottom." They’d learn the true meaning of love, get saved from their inner demons, and walk off into their happy ending.

　　And usually, an incredibly pretty bottom ends up paired with a top like that.

　　I was six feet tall. Sure, I was on the slimmer side, but I definitely wasn’t willowy or delicate enough to be labeled a "pretty bottom." And Junghyun was clearly only an inch or two taller than me.

　　Whenever the height difference between the top and the bottom was that narrow, it was usually either an aggressive enemies-to-lovers rival dynamic, or a pretty-boy top paired with a handsome, masculine bottom.

　　By that logic, Junghyun and I weren’t a matching set at all. Junghyun had a gentle, soft-spoken vibe, but if you looked closely, the shape of his eyes was razor-sharp and intense. Which meant he definitely wasn’t a pretty-boy top.

　　Around me, he only ever showed off a warm smile and soft eyes, but to the rest of the world, he probably looked utterly unapproachable. Just remembering his expression from earlier—the way his features had frozen over in an instant—was enough to give me full-body goosebumps.

　　"Junghyun. Stop smiling for a second and just give me a totally blank face."

　　"Huh? Out of nowhere?"

　　"Just do it. Quick."

　　Like a well-trained dog, Junghyun instantly wiped the smile from his lips, though the look in his eyes remained far too fond.

　　Hm. I need to push a little further to be sure.

　　"Okay, now pretend there’s someone standing right in front of you that you absolutely despise, and give me that look."

　　"Why are you making me do this all of a sudden?"

　　"Just humor me. It’s for science."

　　Looking thoroughly puzzled, Junghyun did as I asked. His gaze slid off me and locked onto a random spot on the wall, the muscles in his jaw tensing as his eyes narrowed.

　　Ice cold.

　　It was a ruthless, merciless expression—so violently chilling it sent a shiver straight down my spine. Oh, yeah. This guy was definitely a top with a tragic backstory. And a top like that was unequivocally destined to end up with a gorgeous, fragile bottom.

　　Thoroughly satisfied with my deduction, I threw him a thumbs-up.

　　"Perfect. You pass."

　　"Pass what?"

　　"Don’t worry about it. Now, where is that kitchen?"

　　But I couldn’t completely drop my guard just yet. The BL community had readers with all sorts of wildly specific tastes, which meant there were plenty of niche subgenres out there. A highly average, masculine guy like me could technically still end up tethered to a handsome, tragic top.

　　"I’m going to grab that soap now."

　　I needed to check his cleaning supplies. If his dish soap was some imported French brand, the odds of Junghyun being an elite, obsessive top skyrocketed. Looking at me like I’d lost my mind, Junghyun obediently stood up and led the way.

　　The massive kitchen was entirely decked out in pristine white marble, giving it the luxurious feel of a high-end culinary studio, complete with a massive island in the center.

　　The good news was that it wasn’t all painfully sleek, monochromatic black. Bright and airy was a good sign, but it still made me deeply uneasy. Genre trends had been shifting away from the classic "deranged, obsessive top" aesthetic lately, which meant even their interior design preferences had lightened up. With a kitchen this excessively bougie, I still had every right to be suspicious.

　　So he really is a top after all?

　　If that was true, I needed to make a run for it before he started trauma-dumping his tragic backstory on me. I felt bad for Junghyun, sure, but I had absolutely zero intention of batting for the other team—not even a fraction of a percent. Dream or no dream, the idea of getting pinned down by another guy was flat-out horrifying to me.

　　In a kitchen with an atmosphere this ridiculously elegant, he was practically guaranteed to have imported French dish soap and an artisanal German sponge. Mentally preparing myself to bolt for the front door at a moment’s notice, I crept toward the sink.

　　And then I fiercely rubbed my eyes.

　　He buys his dish soap at the dollar store?

　　The neon price sticker was still slapped on the front: two dollars. Not even the premium three-dollar bottle—the dirt-cheap two-dollar one. He wasn’t just frugal; this guy was a next-level cheapskate. The two-dollar soap always reeked of artificial lemon so badly that even a broke guy like me splurged on the three-dollar stuff.

　　And sitting right next to it was a hand-knit acrylic dish sponge, meticulously crocheted out of shiny green yarn.

　　It was shaped like a smiling frog.

　　"That sponge…"

　　"Oh, that?" Junghyun beamed. "I just finished making it. Do you want one?"

　　It was actually handmade.

　　A top who crochets? I’d never heard of such a thing in my life.

　　"Junghyun, can you get me a glass of water? Actually—never mind. I’ll just check the fridge myself."

　　I went in for one last check. If that white built-in fridge was stocked with Evian, I was bolting on the spot.

　　Heart pounding, I stood in front of the refrigerator. It felt like rolling for a drop in some low-odds gacha game. I swallowed hard and pulled the door open like a slot machine lever.

　　"Junghyun," I called out softly.

　　"Yeah? What is it?"

　　I spun around and threw my arms around him in a tight hug. "Let’s be best friends!"

　　Seeing the inside of that fridge cemented it. Lee Junghyun was absolutely not a top. Cheap plastic Tupperware was stacked haphazardly, packed with side dishes, and the entire thing reeked of kimchi.

　　But the real clincher? He didn’t drink Evian. He drank Dassani brand water.

　　If he’d stocked the most expensive domestic brand, I might have been a little suspicious. But Dassani? I was practically moved to tears.

　　Finally. In this crazy dream world, I’ve made friends with a straight guy.

　　Unable to contain my overwhelming relief, I squeezed Junghyun even tighter.

　　HU really was the problem. My resolve to transfer to YU as soon as humanly possible hardened. If the transfer didn’t pan out, I’d just retake the college entrance exam. I’d spent my entire life avoiding studying like the plague, but hey—this was a dream. Surely dream-logic would let me pass, right?

　　"What’s gotten into you?" Junghyun asked, looking completely baffled.

　　Fair enough. He’d asked for dish soap, and I’d responded by lunging into his arms. Anyone would be thrown off.

　　I forced myself to rein in my tidal wave of emotion. Memories of this bizarre world flashed before my eyes like a highlight reel from hell. Guys making out in the bathrooms, screwing in the alleyways, hooking up right in the lecture halls…

　　I thought I’d ditched my negative biases against gay guys for my brother Seongjae’s sake, but going to HU was about to turn me into a raging homophobe. Seriously, could they just not?

　　Once I got a handle on my swelling feelings, I pulled away from him and smoothed my expression. "Okay. Want to pick up where we left off?"

　　Naturally, I didn’t forget to grab the dish soap and a rag before heading back into the living room. Returning to the sofa, I squeezed some soap onto the dry cloth and scrubbed at the stain with everything I had until it faded into a vague blur.

　　Junghyun watched me clean with earnest intensity. "Want me to grab some wet wipes?"

　　"Are you crazy?" I shot back. "When you get a stain on upholstery, you never add water right away. It just sets it. You have to rub it out with straight detergent first."

　　I gladly passed on a housekeeping tip I would have absolutely gatekept if Lee Junghyun were a top. But my perfectly sane, straight friend just nodded, taking my advice completely seriously.

　　"Look. It’s basically gone, right?"

　　"Oh, yeah. You’re right."

　　He genuinely looked amazed. There was no way a top would react like that. In a BL, when a bottom shows off his domestic skills, a top usually drops some totally unrelated line like, How cute, and starts stripping the guy’s pants right off. Every lunatic in this world belonged in a BL novel.

　　Satisfied with the stain removal, I settled back onto the sofa and shot him a big grin. "Sorry about that. Let’s continue what we were talking about."

　　"Forget it," he said softly. "Another time."

　　"Sure. Anytime."

　　He shook his head like the wind had been knocked out of his sails, and I let it go immediately. It was just a dream, anyway. I didn’t care how tragic or wistful Lee Junghyun’s backstory was. To me, whether he was gay or straight mattered a hell of a lot more than whether he was some rich family’s illegitimate son.

　　"Let’s make some food before Seongjae gets here," I suggested. "I saw kimchi in the fridge—want to make kimchi pancakes? Do you have pancake mix?"

　　Junghyun stared at me for a long moment before a slow smile tugged at his lips. If I didn’t already know he was straight, my inner alarm bells would have been screaming, Why is he smiling like a top? That look is way too loaded. I need to run.

　　I would have been backing away slowly—careful not to turn my back and sprint, since that was a surefire way to get my ass targeted. It was a highly suspicious smile.

　　"Why are you smiling?" I asked.

　　"Do you know you’re actually kind of cold in your own way?" he murmured. "From way back then until now, you really haven’t cared about anyone but Seongjae."

　　He wasn’t wrong, so I didn’t bother arguing. Seongjae mattered most to me. My whole world revolved around my little brother. He was the reason I lived—the driving force that pushed me to pull myself together and face another day. I just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to care about anyone else.

　　"You seem kind and sociable on the outside," Junghyun continued, "but underneath, you’re cold."

　　"Uh… should I apologize?"

　　"No. That’s exactly why I’m friends with you. Because you’re cold."

　　"Huh? How does that make any sense?"

　　"Because I feel like if I became part of your family, I might get that kind of love, too. It makes me jealous of Seongjae."

　　Hold on. Stop right there. Why was he suddenly saying top-coded shit when we had been doing so well?