It wasn’t until daylight that Hongju realized Doksu hadn’t come back the night before. He was curious, but without a phone on hand, he didn’t want to wake Mu-gyeong just to ask. He quietly waited, sitting on one corner of the sofa.

"When did you get up?"

It was about thirty minutes later when the door burst open. His voice, rough and low, made it clear he’d just woken up.

"Not long ago. Should I make you some ramen?"

"Ramen?"

Mu-gyeong rubbed his forehead, wincing with one eye closed. Even the monolid eyelid above his right eye had deep creases from a headache.

"When Choi or the gangsters came back drunk, they always had ramen in the morning."