Chapter 5: The Temperature Of Survival

Bodam, who had vomited and crawled across the floor completely drenched in rain, inevitably came down with a cold.

His body, always quick to react to the slightest overexertion, seemed to be protesting, urging him to quit the job already.

He spent two full days in bed with only instant porridge from the convenience store by his pillow. Even though all he did was eat and sleep, he still managed to lose another kilo.

Judging by the way his belly was now just soft and squishy to the touch, it was obvious it was only muscle mass that had disappeared. His face, swollen from crying alone out of sheer misery, looked deceptively plump.

“Kimchi dumplings.”

When Bodam returned to the Attack Team 3 break room after his two-day sick leave, still running a fever, the first thing Taehwan said to him was the name of a food.

Bodam ignored him, thinking, Is this crazy bastard seriously asking me to go buy that?

“Kimchi dumplings stuffed to the f*cking brim.”

Had this bastard finally snapped for real?

Taehwan, who was sitting alone at the table waiting for the rest of the team, stared at Bodam while making incomprehensible remarks.

Fed up with everything, Bodam silently put down the eco-bag slung over his shoulder and sat across from him. He would’ve loved to run far away from them all, but he had to show up for the team’s regular meeting.

Attack Team 3 held their weekly meetings every Friday at 9 a.m. sharp. He cursed himself for showing up thirty minutes early just to avoid being late.

Maybe he was some pitiful servant who’d been beaten by their master in a past life—so unnecessarily diligent and timid.

“Someone’s talking to you and you’re not responding. You sucking on a candy or what?”

Taehwan picked a fight with Bodam as usual, despite having no real motivation to work. Yet somehow, he was always the first one to show up for meetings or roll calls.

Even earlier than Bodam, who always arrived fifteen minutes early.

Bodam often thought Taehwan must have nothing better to do in life. All he ever did with that head start was find new ways to antagonize Bodam.

“Well, well. Ignoring me again?”

Cough.

Bodam deliberately coughed toward Taehwan, who had leaned across the table with that mean-looking face of his. He avoided eye contact, worried about the consequences, but it still felt a bit satisfying.

“……”

Taehwan froze for three seconds after taking the cough full in the face. Bodam pretended not to notice and fiddled with the scarf around his neck—the one Joyeon had gifted him during his fever.

He’d sternly warned him to keep his neck warm because of his weak bronchial tubes.

But seriously, why was it so hot? Bodam had thought it was just in his head, but the room really was stifling. The floor under his slippers was warm enough to feel through the soles.

“Did you turn on the heater?”

Bodam, who had been trying not to talk to Taehwan, finally broke the silence. His voice, emerging from his strained vocal cords, was so hoarse it made Taehwan’s brow twitch.

“Why?”

Bodam asked again. A drop of sweat slid down the back of Taehwan’s neck as he frowned irritably and snapped back.

“…What?”

“Why’d you turn it on? Isn’t it hot?”

It was spring weather—perfect for opening the windows and letting in a breeze. Loosening the scarf around his neck, Bodam looked up at Taehwan in confusion.

Now that he was really looking, Taehwan did seem hot—his long sleeves rolled up, stewing in this muggy room.

“Mind your own business.”

Right. My bad. Noted.

Bodam shut his mouth, putting on a zen-like expression in the face of this brick wall of a conversation. He decided to just think of this as a sauna and sweat it out.

Taehwan, whose personality was just as abrasive as his face, would probably only crank the heat higher if he complained more.

“Ah, quit it.”

Bodam grumbled in his hoarse voice, rummaging through his eco-bag in an attempt to ignore Taehwan, who was now using telekinesis to float a tissue and slap it over Bodam’s face.

“I said knock it off.”

“Don’t speak. Your voice is f*cking awful.”

You motherf— That’s rich coming from you.

Too stunned to even retort, Bodam peeled the tissue off his face. He really wanted to chuck it back at the Esper bastard tormenting him while he was already this sick.

But that bastard had telekinesis. Throwing something at him would only make Bodam look foolish. He’d already secretly tried that before—only to have the object boomerang right into his own face.

The best he could do was shoot Taehwan a dirty look.

“Why are you like this…”

Bodam muttered with gritted teeth, the words half-mumbled as he stared at the distant window. Apparently, Taehwan didn’t hear or didn’t care.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the unused tissue, Bodam wondered what Taehwan’s deal was. Why did he always pick fights with Bodam, who hadn’t done anything wrong?

Was he Bodam’s master in a past life or something?

Still stuck in his servant fantasy, Bodam tried to cheer himself up by digging into his bag again.

“What’s that?”

Taehwan nodded at the thermos Bodam pulled out of his bag. Knowing this guy’s interest always led to sarcasm or ridicule, Bodam gave him a short answer without making eye contact.

“Tea.”

After answering in his phlegmy voice, Bodam leaned forward and tried to twist open the lid. He gripped it until his knuckles went white, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge. That only made him more determined to open it.

“Urgh.”

Straining until his cheeks quivered, Bodam bent almost entirely over the table.

“Give it here.”

The thermos flew out of Bodam’s hands and landed in Taehwan’s. Using only his thumb and forefinger, Taehwan gave it a little twist, and it popped open with a click.

Bodam watched in dismay, trying to convince himself he’d already loosened it.

“That thing was sealed tight.”

As Taehwan opened the lid, the sweet scent of yuzu tea wafted up. Bodam, with his nose stuffed, couldn’t smell it, but for Esper Taehwan, the scent was strong.

Instead of handing it back, Taehwan floated over a mug from the kitchen shelf and set it in front of Bodam. Then, using his power, he poured the tea for him.

Bodam, now facing the erratic kindness of Taehwan, pulled his chair in with a slight pout. The tea had actually been prepared by Joyeon early that morning after finishing his own work—part of the care package he brought him.

He’d probably screwed the lid on tight too, not realizing Bodam wouldn’t be able to open it.

“Thanks.”

Bodam’s voice scraped like metal. Taehwan just scowled even more and muttered to himself without acknowledging it. So much for basic decency.

Bodam ignored him and blew gently on the tea, taking a careful sip. When Taehwan went to close the thermos again, Bodam croaked out a request in his dying voice to please shut it gently.

“You do it.”

Taehwan, whose default tone was irritation, just slapped the lid on loosely. Bodam nodded, deciding that was good enough.

There were still ten minutes until the meeting began. Only Bodam and Taehwan were present at the table. Thankfully, Taehwan wasn’t grilling him like usual, so the only sounds were the occasional sip of tea from Bodam.

Slouching in his chair and sipping the now-lukewarm tea, Bodam found himself wishing he had taken one more day off.

But being the team’s designated guide, skipping out for a third consecutive day would’ve been the same as saying, I don’t need my paycheck anymore.

“Why are you breathing like that?”

Bodam looked up from his mug to find Taehwan glaring at him.

“Huh?”

“Why aren’t you breathing properly?”

Rather than waste his voice, Bodam just covered his nose with one hand.

What, never seen someone with a blocked nose breathe through their mouth before, you jackass? His mime said it all. Taehwan just tilted his head and wrinkled his brow like he didn’t get it.

“Yoon Bodam, you—”

Taehwan was interrupted by Jiho suddenly teleporting into the room.

“Ah, f*ck, what the hell.”

As if born with a bad attitude instead of a birth cry, Min Jiho burst into the room and immediately started cursing.

“Which dumb*ss turned on the heater in this weather?”

Taking off his sunglasses, his bare, puff-free face gleaming, he stomped over to the thermostat in his shoes and shouted.

“F*ck, 38 degrees?! Who did this?!”

“Me. I set it wrong.”

“Are your eyes just for decoration, Lee Taehwan?! Then keep them shut, you f*ck!”

Taehwan waved a hand vaguely in apology and pulled out a chair to placate Jiho, who everyone knew would go off endlessly once triggered.

The Espers of Attack Team 3 all had their quirks, and they’d developed a kind of unspoken etiquette to avoid setting each other off. It was their way of showing they were close.

Bodam, of course, was never included in that circle of closeness.

Even though Taehwan admitted fault, Jiho’s tantrum didn’t stop. Finally fed up, Bodam stood up. Jiho, in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, glared sharply at Bodam’s back. Taehwan, too, paused mid-ear-pick to stare.

“Hey!”

“Sit down!”

Both Taehwan and Jiho shouted at once. Startled, Bodam froze against the wall. He had only been trying to open a window to let in some air after all their whining about the heat.

Cough.

Clinging to the wall, Bodam inhaled in surprise and coughed again. Watching him stiffen like a frightened mouse, Taehwan and Jiho both sighed in frustration laced with profanity.

“Just do what you’re told.”

Jiho growled lowly at Bodam, who had been plopped back into his chair by Taehwan’s telekinesis. Keeping his head down to hide his flustered expression, Bodam gave a small nod.

Half a year into the team, he was starting to feel like the longer he stayed, the less he could adapt. Every day, they found a new way to be unbearable.

Clack.

The doorknob turned.

The second hand on the clock hit the 12 mark, displaying exactly 8:56 a.m.

Footsteps echoed as the door opened, and a figure entered—someone who could drop the temperature of the room even further.

It was Han Seungho, the leader of Attack Team 3.