Choi Wonjoon stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long time before splashing cold water across his face and stepping back out of the bathroom. He casually tossed the towel into the laundry basket.
As he looked around the apartment, fragments of what had happened replayed through his mind like scenes from a film, and curses slipped endlessly from his lips.
Out of habit, he searched his pockets for cigarettes, only to remember there was no way he’d have any on him right now.
With his memories restored, every idiotic thing he’d done came flooding back one by one.
Not that he felt embarrassed.
He wasn’t the kind of person capable of shame in the first place.
The whole situation was just so absurd that he couldn’t stop laughing.
He rummaged through the refrigerator, found a beer, cracked it open, and took a long drink before slowly surveying the apartment again.
The owner of the place had already gone to work, and the idiot who’d supposedly been babysitting him had disappeared too, mumbling something about an appointment.
How much time had passed already?
He looked around for a landline phone but couldn’t find one.
Beer in hand, Wonjoon wandered into the bedroom.
He was searching for clothes when he noticed a framed photograph sitting on the desk.
The moment he picked it up, the muscles beneath his eyes twitched faintly.
It was a family portrait.
Everyone except the woman he assumed was the mother wore police uniforms.
Come to think of it, the guy calling himself his “hyung” had mentioned being a prosecutor too.
Wonjoon smirked faintly as he set the frame back down.
“So I walked straight into a tiger’s den.”
After tossing the empty beer can into the trash, he took another look around the apartment.
It felt entirely different now compared to when he’d viewed it through the eyes of a child.
He pulled a photo album from the bookshelf and flipped through it until he found childhood pictures of the apartment’s owner—Kim Yieum.
Pale skin.
Neat, delicate features.
Pitch-black eyes and hair.
And dimples that appeared whenever he smiled.
Honestly, he looked almost identical to how he did now.
Back in kindergarten, his hair had been long enough that it was hard to tell whether he was a boy or a girl at first glance.
Just as Wonjoon slid the album back into place, he sensed someone outside.
He wandered into the living room and found Noh Seon-gyu returning from his date.
Though he wasn’t alone.
“Did our Youngsikie have fun? Weren’t you scared staying home all alone?”
The moment Seon-gyu reached out to pinch his cheek, Wonjoon caught his wrist.
Seon-gyu flinched.
Wonjoon smiled lazily, the corners of his mouth curving upward.
“Hyung. I don’t like people touching my face.”
“Oh… really?”
Clearly startled for a second, Seon-gyu forced out an awkward laugh.
“Haha. Well, I was kinda like that when I was younger too.”
Unwilling to admit he’d been intimidated even briefly, Seon-gyu gave Wonjoon’s shoulder an exaggerated pat before heading back toward his girlfriend.
As the two talked, her eyes kept drifting toward Wonjoon.
“Is he really suffering from memory loss?”
“I told you already. He hit his head and went nuts. Yieum’s trying to find his family, but it doesn’t seem easy.”
“Oh my God. How can someone that handsome even exist…?”
“If he’s got family, they’ll contact him eventually.”
“But what if his memories never come back?”
“Hey, honey. Don’t say creepy things like that. What, is Kim Yieum supposed to stay single forever and die alone?”
“Well… that’s true.”
They lowered their voices, but Wonjoon still heard every word clearly.
As he turned away, his eyes landed on the pack of cigarettes sticking out from the jacket pocket Seon-gyu had tossed aside.
While the couple argued in front of the refrigerator about what to cook, Wonjoon quietly slipped the cigarettes into his pocket.
Just as he started walking away, Seon-gyu called after him.
“Youngsik, where’re you going?”
“I’m sleepy. I’m going to bed.”
“You are?”
Thinking he’d just secured more uninterrupted time for his date, Seon-gyu grinned broadly.
Wonjoon casually walked into Yieum’s room and locked the door behind him.
Then he stepped out onto the veranda, pulled out the stolen cigarette, and placed it between his lips.
The flame flared briefly.
He inhaled deeply.
Being on such a high floor, the entire city stretched out before him in a single glance.
Smoke drifted into the air while Wonjoon stared silently into the distance, far beyond the skyline.
“Executive Director Park Chang-sik submitted his resignation two weeks ago. Since then, we’ve had no knowledge of his whereabouts.”
The man speaking wore glasses, but his eyes behind them were razor-sharp.
When he politely asked if there was anything else they needed, Yieum slid a photograph of the victim across the table.
“Do you recognize this man?”
The employee’s gaze never wavered.
His tone remained calm, polite, controlled.
“Let me see… No. I don’t believe I’ve met him before. Is something wrong?”
“Was there anyone in the company particularly close to Executive Director Park?”
“He got along well with everyone, but there wasn’t anyone he seemed especially close to.”
“What about his secretary?”
“She’s currently overseas on a business trip.”
“When is she returning?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
Every answer was perfectly cooperative.
And completely useless.
The man checked his watch several times throughout the conversation. He clearly wanted them gone.
Finally, Yieum closed his notebook and stood.
“Understood. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Not at all. Please get home safely.”
The man bowed politely before disappearing toward the elevators across the lobby.
Manager Lee.
That was his name.
The glint in his eyes behind those glasses had bothered Yieum from the start.
His build was lean, balanced, athletic.
Not a single opening.
Beside him, Namsu finished his coffee and glanced around the lobby.
“I honestly expected everyone here to look like gangsters.”
“No idea how it started, but now it’s one of the country’s most respectable corporations.”
“Should we keep digging?”
“Let’s stop for today.” Yieum checked the time. “I need to get home early.”
“What about that guy? Youngsik?”
“No progress. He’s still the same.”
Namsu hesitated before speaking carefully.
“It must be uncomfortable for you, sunbae. Maybe you should send him to a facility for a while?”
The thought had crossed Yieum’s mind more than once.
He couldn’t keep burdening Seon-gyu forever.
But whenever he remembered those eyes staring up at him while clutching his shirt, the words refused to leave his mouth.
Fuck. He’s not even an actual kid. What am I doing?
After dropping Namsu off halfway, Yieum headed home alone.
During the drive, he organized the case in his head.
He had a strong feeling the victim’s death was connected to the former executive director of Sehwa Construction.
People liked to say detectives should follow evidence, not instinct.
But experience taught him instincts were often right.
Right then, a text message arrived.
[My mom’s sick, so I left early. Youngsik’s dead asleep.]
After sending a quick thanks, Yieum hurried upstairs the moment he arrived home.
Even knowing Youngsik wasn’t really a child, part of him still worried he might wake up frightened if nobody was there.
Finding himself ridiculous, Yieum unlocked the front door and stepped inside.
The apartment was silent.
He headed into the bedroom.
The lights were off, and Youngsik lay asleep on the bed.
Strange.
His sleeping posture looked subtly different than usual.
One arm rested over his forehead awkwardly.
Thinking it looked uncomfortable, Yieum reached out to move it—
And suddenly a large hand seized his wrist.
Youngsik’s eyes slowly opened.
In the darkness, his gaze gleamed with something strangely beastlike.
Startled, Yieum stumbled over his words.
“Y-Youngsik. It’s me. Your hand was—”
Even after Youngsik let go, his wrist continued throbbing.
For a brief instant, the grip had felt genuinely threatening.
Youngsik sat up casually and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I didn’t know you were here, Mister.”
“Sorry for waking you. You looked uncomfortable, so I just…”
Yieum laughed awkwardly.
Youngsik’s gaze dropped to his wrist.
“Is your wrist okay?”
Yieum was about to say it was fine when he caught a faint scent of cigarette smoke.
Sniff.
Sniff.
He leaned closer unconsciously.
Why does he smell like cigarettes?
Then Youngsik tilted his head innocently.
“What is it, Mister?”
“You smell like cigarettes, Youngsik…”
“Seon-gyu hyung was smoking earlier. Then he hugged me.”
“He hugged you?”
“Yes. Really tightly.”
Inside, Yieum cursed Seon-gyu for being insane.
Seon-gyu wasn’t affectionate enough to go around hugging men bigger than himself. The idiot really must’ve started thinking of Youngsik as an actual child.
After settling Youngsik back down into bed, Yieum stepped away.
“Good night.”
Just as he turned to leave, a strange chill crawled down the back of his neck.
He spun around.
Youngsik was staring directly at him.
“What is it…? Do you have something to say?”
“Aren’t you sleeping here?”
“……”
“I get scared when you’re not here, Mister.”
Normally, he would’ve looked genuinely frightened while saying something like that.
But today…
Why did it feel like he was smiling?
And if he was scared, why wasn’t his voice trembling at all?
Was it because he’d grown comfortable around him now?
As Yieum stood there, unsettled and confused, his phone suddenly rang.
It was Namsu.
Yieum stepped outside the room and quietly shut the door behind him before answering.
While listening to the call, he glanced down at his wrist.
A vivid red handprint still remained where Youngsik had grabbed him.