DASH-Chapter 16Vol 2. : Side Story -

"Let’s just... tidy this up a bit."

He couldn’t bring himself to say, delete it, so he told Jaekyung to make a folder and put everything inside. Jaekyung made an even sulkier face and said, "Why would I do that."

"It’s just, you know, if someone else sees it..."

"Why would anyone look at my phone? And so what if they do?"

Emotion crept into Jaekyung’s voice, and before long, he turned it back on Jiheon.

"Seriously, what kind of dad doesn’t even do this much? Aren’t you being way too cold, hyung? You’ve only downloaded two apps!"

"Hey, those two are all you need, okay? Go on any pregnancy forum, everyone says those two are enough! And how am I cold? I’ve got all the photos and videos saved on my phone too. I look at them during every break. You think you’re the only doting fool here?"

"And what good is that if you’re the only one looking at it? You should be showing it off to other people, bragging a little! What’s the point if you’re just staring at it alone? If you’re gonna be a doting fool, then act like it—set it as your phone background and make it your messenger profile pic too."

The moment he said that, Jaekyung reached to grab Jiheon’s phone, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° saying he’d do it for him. Jiheon freaked out, flung Jaekyung’s phone onto the sofa, hugged his own phone to his chest, and backed away.

"No, absolutely not."

"Why not? I thought you were a doting fool."

"There’s such a thing as social reputation! I might be a doting fool, but that doesn’t mean I want people to know I’m a doting fool...!"

"I’m dying from how cute my baby is, like I have the mental capacity to care about stuff like that."

Jaekyung muttered as he took his own phone back.

"Hey, the baby doesn’t even have visible eyes, nose, or mouth yet—who’s gonna agree it’s cute? People are just gonna think I’ve lost my mind."

"And yet you still won’t use the ones where you can see his features."

Jaekyung scoffed and sat cross-legged on the sofa, staring at his phone.

"What? What photos are those?"

The baby’s features were still so flat that even on the ultrasound, it was hard to tell anything apart. There was no way a photo existed where you could clearly see everything.

"If you have one, hand it over. I’ll put it up as my messenger profile right now."

Jiheon declared triumphantly. Jaekyung glanced at him and casually tossed something at him.

"My photo, obviously."

"What...?"

Jiheon couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the completely unexpected answer.

"Jaekyung, are you my baby? Did I give birth to you?"

He laughed as he asked, and Jaekyung muttered, "Well, no," while lowering his head. He kept fidgeting with his phone for no reason, then lifted his head slightly, a mix of subtle resentment and hurt on his face.

"Hyung... are you only going to find your baby cute from now on...?"

Then, probably embarrassed by what he’d said, he quickly lowered his head again. His ears were beet red. His neck was practically on fire.

Of course. Up until now, he’d always thrown a fit anytime anyone called him cute. And now he was the one asking if he wouldn’t be called cute anymore. Of course he was embarrassed. Probably dying inside from the shame.

But it was so cute it made Jiheon dizzy.

"......."

Jiheon nearly dropped the phone in his hand. He barely managed to tighten his grip, but once his mind went hazy, it was hard to bring it back.

This couldn’t be normal. How could a man nearly two meters tall be this cute? Was this even possible? No, forget possible or not—wasn’t it illegal for a baby’s dad to be this cute? At the very least, it had to violate public decency. Parents were supposed to earn respect from their kids, and kids were the ones who got coddled—so what was supposed to happen if the dad was this cute? What was he supposed to do?

"Jaekyung."

Jiheon called out to him with a trembling voice.

"When... when are you leaving? What time do you head out?"

"Minwoo-hyung said he’d be here at ten."

Jaekyung answered, still fiddling with his phone and not looking up. That, too, was unbearably cute.

Jiheon checked the time on his phone. It was just before 8:10. Jaekyung had time, and so did he—he didn’t have to leave for work until 8:30, so they had about 40 minutes. If he took a cab, even 50 was doable.

Once the calculations were done, Jiheon flung his phone onto the sofa. Then, with one hand, he loosened his tie. With the other, he pulled Jaekyung up from the sofa and said,

"Then let’s do it once now."

After Jaekyung left for Jincheon, Jiheon changed his messenger profile photo that very day. He didn’t have the guts to use a picture with Jaekyung’s face in it, so he picked one that just showed Jaekyung’s hand. It was from that time Jaekyung ate five Big Mac sets in one sitting. Jiheon had taken a picture to commemorate the record: a tray piled with fries to look like there was more food, burgers lined up neatly, and the shot taken from above like an aerial view. Jaekyung’s hand was caught in the frame, reaching for a burger.

"What is this? If someone sees this, they’ll think it’s just a food fighter photo."

As soon as Jaekyung heard that Jiheon changed his profile photo, he reinstalled the messenger app at lightning speed. One look at the photo and he called, pissed. He demanded to know if Jiheon really made him reinstall the app just for that, and told him to change it to a good-looking photo of his face right away. But Jiheon couldn’t bring himself to do it. This was the best compromise he could manage, balancing social reputation with household peace.

"And who would call this a food fighter shot? Even with squinty eyes, that’s clearly Kwon Jaekyung’s hand."

Jiheon truly believed that. Seriously—where in the world would you find a food fighter with hands this big, handsome, and sexy? The size of the hand, the veins on the back, the shape—anyone could tell it was Kwon Jaekyung’s. The long fingers, the thick joints—every bit of it was just him. You could practically see his face just from the hand.

He’d picked it, and he’d picked well.

Jiheon spent the entire day proudly staring at his profile picture.

"Hey, Assistant Manager Jeong, that profile pic—isn’t that that guy? Something ‘Bill Cos’ or whatever?"

At Nam Deputy Manager’s comment, Jiheon paused mid-bite into his beef soup. "...Huh?"

"Who?"

"Huh? It’s not? You know, that famous food fighter guy. I think I saw that pic on his Instagram."

"......."

Jiheon stayed silent, spoon still in hand. Nam quickly pulled out his phone to check Jiheon’s profile again.

"Oh... maybe not? Yeah, now that I think about it, that’s too little food for him."

Then who...? Nam, who had been looking at his phone instead of eating, suddenly widened his eyes.

"Wait—could it be your husband?"

Jiheon didn’t answer. He just rolled his eyes once, then went back to eating. Nam, sensing he’d hit the mark, let out a string of weird exclamations and stared at the photo again.

"You picked a good one."

"You sure about that...?"

"It’s for stealth mode, right? Wait, is ‘stealth mode’ even the right term here? Anyway, you deliberately picked a photo where people wouldn’t recognize him, so yeah—you picked a good one."

Jiheon had thought so too, at first. Photos like this should work that way—you don’t get it the first time, but the second time you start to notice, and by the third time, you can picture the whole unseen face. That photo fit the bill perfectly.

But nearly a week had passed since he changed it, and all anyone said was: what is that photo, is that you, when did you switch careers to food fighting, are you not having morning sickness, were your hands always that big...? It was starting to shake his confidence.

"With your personality, no one would ever guess you’d put your husband’s photo as your messenger profile. That’s why I also thought it was just some food fighter shot when I first saw it."

"...Is that so."

"Why? Are you upset no one recognized it?"

"No, of course not."

Jiheon quickly shook his head and poured water into his cup.

"Honestly, it’s way better that they don’t recognize it than having to hear them run their mouths once they do."

Nam laughed as he looked at Jiheon’s serious face.

"Wow, you really got scarred at the pool, huh?"

He wasn’t wrong.

Three days ago, Jiheon finally registered at the swimming pool near home. He went to the 8 p.m. free swim session and came back absolutely traumatized. The weather had started warming up, and it was exactly the season when pools filled up fast. Sure enough, it felt like each lane had at least twenty people.

Jiheon went to the advanced lane, which had the fewest people—that was his mistake.

Unless it’s an athlete-only pool, every public pool’s advanced lane on a weekday evening is the same: mostly older locals who think they’re swim pros. The average age was high. While their skills were impressive, their stamina wasn’t; they’d power through 800 meters as soon as they arrived, then cling to the pool wall and chat the rest of the time.

And their friendliness was scary. Too friendly—every new face got greeted with "You’re here?"

Same went for Jiheon. Just like some seasoned soldier greeting a fresh recruit, they said "Oh, you’re here?" and then nodded, saying, "That’s right, you gotta swim." It sounded so natural that Jiheon wondered if they all knew him. Was he forgetting some distant relatives?

Of course not. They were complete strangers.

Well—he didn’t know them, but some of them knew him. People who had seen him on TV or in the news and recognized his face. They greeted him like a neighbor and started saying all kinds of things—why didn’t your husband come, is he busy with Olympic prep, tell him to show off some swimming skills after it’s over, let’s have a swim race sometime.

Those who didn’t know him didn’t care about the husband—just poked at Jiheon’s belly, asking how far along he was, if it was twins, what his due date was. Then followed with, what are you doing in the advanced lane, do you even know how to swim, wouldn’t aqua aerobics suit you better—and so on and so on.