“Huk! Breathe! Get a grip! Here—here, ice!”
Half-hauling Jioh to the table in a fluster, Hwanghon grabbed a handful of ice and scrubbed it against his cheek.
“C—cold!—” Jolted awake, Jioh flailed his arms.
“Wanna die? You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“You looked hot, so I tried to cool you down. You brush off a man’s kindness like this?”
“Then as a ‘kindness,’ can I turn you into an ice statue and smash you?”
“Gassna (lass), you’re deadly for real. If you can make ice, why don’t you just regulate the heat with magic?”
“I am. But my mood feels hot.”
“Wow, the betrayal. It’s not even some phone-heat—what even is that? I’m actually hot, you know?”
Tsk. Those two are going to catch feelings at this rate.
As much as this side enjoys dramas, in a busy real life I’d rather pass.
Clicking his tongue, Jeong Gilgaon lowered the tablet he’d been reading. He tapped the tabletop with the back of his hand, drawing…