No need to try

Sana raised his head, his eyes sparkling, perhaps thinking Doha believed his words and was showing curiosity. His expressions were so changeable that watching him was never boring.

“If I just know exactly when and where it will happen, I can respond!”

It was a childlike answer. He spoke with conviction, but to Doha, it remained vague.

“So, if I know when and where I’ll die, that’s all that’s needed? That wasn’t visible in the dream, I suppose?”

When Doha asked back, wondering if his understanding was correct, Sana slowly nodded, then looked glum.

“It was always like that. Always lacking something… so I couldn’t even do one person’s part properly…”

He was talking nonsense again. Did ‘lacking’ mean imprecise prophetic dreams? Doha made his own assumptions but didn’t bother to confirm with Sana.

“Are you allowed to say such things freely? You said you shouldn’t reveal you’re a shaman.”

When he pointed out Sana’s earlier reaction, he made an ‘oh, right’ expression and put a hand over his mouth. That sight struck Doha as cute, and he let out a little laugh.

He was too clumsy to be called a shaman. Still, it seemed better than suspecting him of being a mental patient or a chaebol’s second-generation lover.

“You said the future has changed before?”

At Doha’s question, Sana nodded.

“Only once, though.”

Sana mumbled in a small voice. Just once. Because of that, Sana also seemed unsure. He might not have certainty, but he had hope. Doha, who had been staring intently at Sana, quietly took a breath.

“What if I say I don’t need it?”

“…?”

Perhaps not understanding what he meant, Sana stared blankly up at Doha.

Why was this guy so fixated on the life of a complete stranger? Was it because he kept seeing his death in dreams, and it bothered him? It was a feeling Doha couldn’t understand.

“You don’t need to bother trying to save me. It has nothing to do with you anyway.”

At Doha’s answer, Sana’s face seemed to stiffen, then soon blurred with tears. He bit his molars tightly, making his jawbone protrude, then swallowed dryly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Did Brother Doha want to die?”

It was an unexpected question. Doha hadn’t expected him to ask that, so he couldn’t answer for a moment and only stared at him.

“I think it’s a bit different from wanting to die.”

At the ambiguous answer, Sana frowned.

“I’ve never thought about wanting to die. But I’ve never desperately thought about wanting to live either.”

Doha’s current goal was only one. Once that was achieved, he hadn’t thought about what would come next. So, if his death Sana saw was after that task, it didn’t matter.

“If the death you saw for me is tomorrow or the day after, then that would be a bit of a problem.”

At least he had to finish what he was doing.

“Brother Doha!”

He had spoken nonchalantly, so why was this guy looking like he was about to cry? It was a strange feeling, seeing the hand clutching his clothes tremble slightly.

“I hate it… It doesn’t have nothing to do with me. So, don’t die!”

Flustered by the unreasonable plea, he hesitated as he tried to pull his hand away.

“I hate it anymore… I won’t let you die, ever.”

Sana’s voice, with his head bowed deeply, was trembling. Was he crying? Startled, Doha grabbed Sana’s chin and lifted his face to check. Tears hadn’t flowed yet, but his eyes were full of them, shimmering.

“Hey, what did I do to make you cry?”

“Urgh, I’m not crying!”

Sana slapped Doha’s hand away and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. His eyes became red as a result.

“What an absurd fellow.”

Doha had no idea how to comfort someone who was crying. Unsure what to do, he stared blankly, then reached out a hand and patted Sana’s head.

Doha couldn’t shake off Sana, who was stubbornly insisting on working at the club again today. He left him on the first floor of the hall, where preparations for business were being made, and entrusted Jungwook with keeping an eye on him.

Jungwook, too, seemed to think it would be over in a day, and gasped in surprise when Doha appeared with Sana, asking if he was going to keep him around.

“He says he has nowhere to go. Just let him stay for a few days.”

He vaguely brushed it off, but he didn’t think Sana truly had nowhere to go. Even if his claim of being a shaman was true, his attire didn’t suggest he was in much financial difficulty.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t break Sana’s stubbornness—his dislike of Choi Doha dying, his desire to save him no matter what, and his insistence on staying by his side.

When he went up to the club’s upstairs office, Kim Sinhak and his followers were already seated, occupying the space.

Doha gave a polite bow in greeting, then went to sit near the CCTV monitors that showed the club’s interior.

A moment later, Kim Sinhak checked his watch and stood up. He patted his sloppily worn suit, smoothing non-existent wrinkles, then checked his slicked-back hair in the mirror.

He seemed quite pleased with himself, as the corners of his lips twisted into a crooked smirk.

“Let’s go.”

He said to his underlings and was about to move when the office door opened, and Park Jaemin, the boss of the Gangnam Alliance and owner of this club, entered.

“Welcome!”

The men in the office simultaneously bowed deeply and greeted him loudly. Park Jaemin waved his hand dismissively, indicating it was fine, then sat on the main sofa, crossing his legs.

“What are you doing? Not sitting.”

Park Jaemin gestured with his chin towards the seat on his right, addressing Kim Sinhak.

“It’s time to go out for collections…”

Kim Sinhak looked like he didn’t understand why he had come at this hour.

Park Jaemin considered the Daechi-dong collections to be the most important task, and he had never allowed anyone other than Kim Sinhak to handle them. There was no way Park Jaemin could have forgotten that.

“Ah, that? Choi Doha.”

He called out to Doha, who was standing at the back.

“From today, Doha, you’ll handle the Daechi-dong collections.”

At Park Jaemin’s instruction, Kim Sinhak’s face hardened. Doha also flinched.

“Why is that bastard going there…?”

He seemed to be holding back as much as possible in front of Park Jaemin, but a suppressed anger was evident in Kim Sinhak’s voice.

“Not just Daechi-dong collections, but Doha will also be in charge of other collections from now on, so be aware.”

Park Jaemin informed them unilaterally.

“Brother!”

Kim Sinhak, who had flared up, swallowed his next words as Park Jaemin narrowed his eyes at him. His decision was absolute. Kim Sinhak had no right to object.

“You’ll continue to handle sending goods. I’m just trying to separate the two sides, so don’t pick a fight with Doha unnecessarily.”

At Park Jaemin’s words, Kim Sinhak clenched both fists.

‘So, I do the grunt work of carrying goods, and Choi Doha, that bastard, will handle the actual money management?’

His jawbone protruded as he clenched his molars, forcibly suppressing the surge of anger. Park Jaemin, who had been staring intently at him with an unexpressive face, stood up, approached, and patted Kim Sinhak’s shoulder.

“Everyone has their own role. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sinhak.”

Warning him in a low voice, he then gestured for Doha to follow, as if his business was finished, and left the office. Only after Park Jaemin and Doha’s footsteps completely disappeared did Kim Sinhak scream, “Ugh!” and threw the ashtray on the table. 

Crash! The ashtray hit the display cabinet on the opposite side, shattering the glass and making a mess on the floor. However, no one in the office dared to step forward to clean it up, as they were watching Kim Sinhak’s mood.

In the afternoon, he moved outside on Park Jaemin’s errands, but from the evening, he was at the club.

“Doha, go home early today. Starting tomorrow, come in a bit earlier. From now on, I’ll have you do other work besides club duties.”

Around 10 PM, Park Jaemin told him to go home first. It was the prime time for the club, but he said there were plenty of guys to manage the club even without Doha.

There was no particular reason to refuse his instruction to go. Doha, who had come outside to leave work, was concerned about Sana, who was serving in the hall.

The reason that guy was working at the club was solely because of him.

Knowing that, it bothered him to leave work alone. Moreover, because of Park Jaemin’s instructions, Kim Sinhak was sharpening his hostility towards him, and he didn’t know what Kim Sinhak might do if he noticed Sana, whom he considered related to Doha.

‘If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have protected him yesterday.’ Regretting it now was like spilled water.

In the end, he sent a text to Jungwook, asking him to bring Sana out, and they left work together.

Sana, who followed Doha into his house all too naturally, suggested they have dinner.

It was past 10 PM, but he said he hadn’t eaten anything all day, being busy serving, so Doha had no choice but to eat with him in silence.

“I’m good at cooking. So you can trust me.”

Sana even took over the kitchen and, in about 20 minutes, whipped up rice and stew.

He even expressed regret that he couldn’t make other side dishes because Doha’s refrigerator was so empty.

After the meal, he even offered to do the dishes.

Doha refused, saying that since Sana had prepared the meal, it was only right for him to clean up, but Sana insisted, saying it was natural to do so since he was freeloading.

Doha eventually found himself being pushed into the bathroom to wash up, but he wondered if this was right.

It was his house, and Sana was practically a guest. Having kicked him out once, he felt a bit sorry, wondering if he was now caring more because of it.

‘Is he really living alone?’

Watching Sana, who was accustomed to cooking and cleaning, he oddly confirmed that one fact. He seemed more skilled at the sink than Doha. Indeed, Doha knew how to cook, but recently, he mostly ate out.

‘A shaman, huh…’

He turned on the shower and stood under it, mulling over what Sana had said. ‘Isn’t he too young to be a shaman?’ No, there were child monks and such, so age might not matter.

Doha’s upper body was reflected in the bathroom mirror. The large wolf’s face engraved on his left chest was visible. Because of this tattoo, he couldn’t dismiss Sana’s words as nonsense.

The face looking back in the mirror was rigidly set. Various thoughts floated in his mind. ‘Dying, huh…’ His gaze returned to the tattoo on his chest. After staring at the tattoo reflected in the mirror for a long time without moving, he clenched his molars.

Nothing would change.

Pfft, he laughed. He was having too many unnecessary thoughts because of this guy who had suddenly intruded.