It was nearly three minutes later when he finally opened his mouth again. Cheon Sejoo, having stubbed out his cigarette, moved his lips like someone at a loss for words, then at last asked Sejin:
“You’re joking, right?”
“……”
But Sejin’s expression made it clear that what he’d said wasn’t a lie. Cheon Sejoo, truly dumbfounded, ran both hands down his face, then looked up and stared at Sejin. Staring at that small head of his, a thought crossed his mind.
Is his brain small because his head’s small? No, that can’t be it. For a brief second, he had that absurd thought—but quickly dismissed it. He himself had always been told he had a small face, but that didn’t mean he was dumb. This was just...
“Did you not study, or are you just bad at it?”
“Why are you so obsessed with my grades?”
Sejin sat with his arms crossed, clearly irritated by Sejoo’s nosy interference. It was as if he was pointing out that this kind of meddling was way out of line. Faced with that clear boundary, Cheon Sejoo hesitated.
He had taken responsibility for Sejin. And in his mind, responsibility meant support for Sejin’s daily life and future. He had let him into his home, and he had no intention of neglecting him—not even a little. If anything, he planned to interfere more than he ever did with Hyein.
When Kwon Sejin eventually left his house as an adult, Cheon Sejoo wanted him to leave with confidence and stability. He didn’t want him to go the way Hyein had—swallowed up by anxiety and fear. That was why, while he was taking care of Sejin anyway, he wanted to give him everything he hadn’t been able to give Hyein. A sort of surrogate satisfaction.
But all of that was Sejoo’s own story. He had no intention of telling Sejin all his reasons when they’d barely be together for a little over a year. So the only things he could say were blatantly overbearing, borderline threatening words. And truthfully, that kind of thing worked better on someone as stubborn as Kwon Sejin. In a serious tone, Cheon Sejoo told him:
“No one’s allowed in my house unless they’re ranked top in their class.”
“…You’re so full of shit.”
“So study. I’ll teach you.”
Even if he tried to enroll him in a cram school, no place was going to take a kid this dumb. Even elementary schoolers would probably do better than him—there’s no way any basic-level academy would accept someone his size. So there was no choice. Until his grades were back on track, Sejoo would have to teach him himself.
He’d done plenty of tutoring during his school years. Teaching idiots dressed like people was no problem. But Sejin only laughed.
“You? You’re going to teach me?”
The laugh, filled with disbelief, made Cheon Sejoo’s brow twitch in annoyance. Sejin didn’t care and scowled as he said:
“What exactly are you going to teach me? How to scam people? Forge loan documents? What the hell did you even learn that you think you can teach me anything? I’m not interested in learning loan shark thug shit.”
“……”
Cheon Sejoo had never tampered with anyone’s paperwork at Shinsa Capital. He didn’t care how Sejin saw him, so he didn’t mind being misunderstood as a loan shark. But being lumped in with the other morons at Shinsa Capital was deeply offensive.
The goons working there were the kind that wouldn’t surprise you if their heads echoed like empty cans. And for someone who was dead last in his class to look at him like he was even dumber—it irritated him. In that moment, it was childish, but Sejoo found himself wondering what kind of face Sejin would make if he found out Sejoo had graduated from Korea University’s medical school.
“You know, I—”
But as soon as he started to speak, he realized it was pointless. Do I really need to prove myself? It was all in the past. The path he’d taken no longer mattered. He’d strayed from it long ago.
Erasing all expression, he looked at Sejin. His eyes, now cold, turned to the smug face of the boy in front of him.
“Now that I think about it, showing my student ID to an idiot like you would be pointless.”
“Who’re you calling an idiot?!”
Sejin sprang up, clenching his fists at the throwaway comment. Sejoo snorted and jerked his chin.
“You even know how to spell ‘University’?”
“Do you even know if I said it?”
“Yes or no. Just answer.”
“Of course I know!”
At Sejin’s confident outburst, Sejoo raised his brows and stared him down. Sejin looked like he was about to blurt it out, but instead narrowed his eyes and fired back in a rapid tone.
“Don’t you think this is over the line? You know this isn’t going to last. You didn’t take me in to adopt me—you just felt bad and wanted to throw some charity my way. So let’s just leave it at that. I’m already getting more than enough help from you. You don’t need to pretend to care about my future, too.”
Having forced himself to say that, Sejin swept his hands through his hair with an incredulous expression. He’d wanted to sneer—What, now you’re some kind of saint? The same guy who tried to sell me off? But looking at the man’s serious face, he couldn’t say it.
His eyes, intense and focused, pulled at him. Sejin, full of frustration, glared at Cheon Sejoo.
“Isn’t it hilarious that I’m sitting here talking to you about my future? Like we’re something to each other.”
“What’s hilarious is your GPA.”
“……”
But Cheon Sejoo didn’t care what he said. He also realized this conversation was going nowhere and decided to make himself absolutely clear.
“You’re the one who doesn’t get it. Like I said—I didn’t take you in out of pity. You think I’m being pushy? Then get used to it. Until the day you walk out that door, I’m responsible for you.”
Sejin felt a deep, violent rejection well up inside him.
The one who should have been responsible for him—his father—had abandoned him. The uncle who came later, claiming he’d take care of them, left too. And now this man? Who the hell are you to take responsibility for me? It didn’t even sound like a lie. It just sounded like utter bullshit.
Still seated, fists clenched tight, Sejin listened as Sejoo calmly laid it out.
“I’ll say it again. Now that you’re in my house, you do everything I say—no exceptions. Don’t like it? Then leave. But just so we’re clear, I’m not letting you go. No matter what you say, I’ll do things my way.”
The look on Sejin’s face said it all—What the fuck kind of bastard are you? Cheon Sejoo, now speaking in a quieter voice, explained:
“But think about it, Sejin. You’ve got nothing to lose if you just listen to me. Sure, it might piss you off to take help from a piece of human trash like me—but how you feel is your problem. I’m giving you food, a place to sleep, a ride to school if the timing works out, and I’m offering to tutor you. What’s so bad about that?”
“Obviously—!”
He had a mountain of arguments ready. But Cheon Sejoo cut him off with a final blow.
“Actually, I don’t care what your reason is. But just know this—if you say no, you’re not seeing your mom again.”
“……”
Sejin clenched his teeth. It was a cheap, dirty threat—but Sejoo didn’t care. If he had to argue every time he tried to do something, how could they live like that? He realized he needed a firmer grip on Sejin’s leash. When it came to this unruly mutt, nothing worked better than invoking Kim Hyunkyung.
As he looked at the now-silent Sejin, Sejoo offered a rare, gentle smile. Then he asked again.
“You’re going to listen now, right?”
“……”
Sejin had no choice. The only person who could get him in to see his mother was this dirty, manipulative loan shark in front of him. So he should’ve just said “okay” immediately—but the fact that Sejoo used his mom against him pissed him off so much he couldn’t give in easily.
“Answer me.”
But when Cheon Sejoo pressed again, Sejin finally gritted his teeth and spat out, “Fine.” Only then did Sejoo nod in satisfaction.
“Good. Tomorrow, on your way back from school, bring all your textbooks. Do you even have a backpack?”
“…It’s in my locker.”
Sejin’s short reply made Sejoo look at him like he was the most pathetic creature alive. He sighed.
“Fine. We’ll leave together tomorrow. What time does your school day end? I mean your actual classes—not when you sneak out.”
“……”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”
Sejin averted his eyes without a word. Since he always left right after lunch, he had no idea when school actually ended. Seeing that, Cheon Sejoo exhaled in disbelief. For a moment, it really felt like he was looking at something wearing a human disguise. He slowly shook his head, then stood up and pointed toward Sejin’s room.
“All right, now go in and rest. Take a picture of your schedule at school tomorrow and text it to me. I’ll come pick you up when school ends, so don’t even think about running off. Even if you don’t understand a damn thing, just listen to what the teacher says during class. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Don’t just lie there like a dead fish—at least pretend like you’re trying to understand. Kids like you need brute-force education.”
“I said I got it!”
“Don’t raise your voice. A punk who ranks dead last in his class doesn’t get to yell in my house.”
“……”
As Sejoo’s nagging dragged on endlessly, Sejin shot him a look of pure exhaustion. He let the words go in one ear and out the other, and the moment he was told to go to his room, he immediately took the opportunity to escape. The second Cheon Sejoo was out of sight, his furrowed face turned to one of speechless disbelief.
He’d never said it out loud, but Sejin was genuinely grateful to the man. Just the fact that he now had a place to stay so his mom wouldn’t worry was enough reason to bow his head. But whenever he thought about saying something like Thanks for helping me, the moment that man started butting so deeply into his life, resistance just surged up inside him.
The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it was. Acting like he was some savior just because he gave up one room. Even his own mother hadn’t nagged him this much. The way Cheon Sejoo tried to act more like a parent than actual parents made Sejin instinctively push back.
So what if you’re handsome? Like you’ve got anything to teach me. Sejin, viewing Sejoo as nothing more than a petty thug scam artist, slammed the door behind him as he entered his room.
***
The next morning, Cheon Sejoo woke up to a heavy, damp sensation clinging to his body. His brow furrowed in discomfort, and he let out a sigh like a groan, lifting a limp arm off the bed to run it over his face.
There’d been no mention of rain last night, but apparently, an autumn shower had rolled in. Even with all the windows shut, he could feel the chill settle into his skin. Holding his pounding forehead, he slowly sat up.
The thick, heavy blanket slid off with a dull thud, revealing his bare upper body. Pale skin was littered with small scars. Among them, a fresh red gash stretched from below his left chest down to his waist—still tinted crimson, as if it hadn’t been long since it was made.
Sejoo sat there, dazed, letting the cold seep into his skin. After some time, he finally reached out and picked up his phone to check the time. 5:32 a.m. A rain cloud icon blinked on the weather app. He opened his messenger.
5:32AM – You up?
It should’ve been around the end of Doyoon’s midterms. But since it was still early, he added a follow-up:
Ping me when you’re awake.
He set the phone down.
With a calm gaze, he looked outside and stood. His solid body, stark naked, pulsed with life as he moved. Relaxed muscles tensed and came alive. A tiger tattoo stretched across his back, its eyes gleaming like a predator hunting prey. Its front paw reached as if to press down on his waist with every step.
The snarling tiger marked him as one of Shin Goyeon’s. It had taken two years to complete, starting the day Sejoo was officially made manager. It was also the day he had stabbed himself in the stomach.
And today—he was set to meet the man who held his life in the palm of his hand.
Cheon Sejoo stepped into the dressing room and pulled on a black T-shirt and training pants. After a quick rinse, he headed for the seventh floor.
“Good morning, sir.”
One of the guards at the gym greeted him with a nod. Sejoo returned it and stepped into Unit 701. The place was dark—seemed no one else had arrived yet. He pressed the switch to flood the space with light and walked over to his personal locker.
As he opened the door and wrapped his fists in hand wraps, the sensations in his body began to reawaken. The sound of rain against the windows rang vividly in his ears—it didn’t feel like it was hitting glass, but like it was pelting directly against his head.
Rainy days were always like this. His nerves went razor-sharp, every stimulus registering with overwhelming clarity. He stared out at the rain-drenched world and listened.
Rain held a different meaning for Cheon Sejoo. The sound of rain blanketing the earth always stirred up memories of that day—of despair and grief. The endlessly falling drops didn’t just run off; they built up inside him, forming a sea of nightmares. Whenever it rained, it felt like he would drown in that ocean. The only thing that could save him was the warmth of another person. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
So, on rainy days, he sought out people.
Just like today—for the past two years, he’d spent most rainy days in Doyoon’s arms.
“Good morning.”
A voice accompanied the sound of the door opening and closing. Sejoo lowered his eyes and focused. Two sets of footsteps. Familiar voices. Thankfully, the ones he’d been waiting for had shown up early.
“You’re here.”
He greeted Shin Goyeon with a still, quiet gaze. Shin returned the greeting with a simple nod, and Sejoo walked ahead to the ring. As he waited there, Shin Goyeon changed clothes, wrapped his hands, and climbed onto the mat.
Today’s sparring would be barehanded.
Fist met flesh multiple times. Thanks to his heightened senses, Sejoo was able to subdue Shin Goyeon more easily than usual. He helped the fallen man up, catching his breath as he did. Shin dipped his head first.
“Good work.”
“You too.”
Shin Goyeon replied in a low voice, then left without another word. Chae Beomjun tried to speak to him, but Sejoo gave a half-hearted nod and walked straight into the training room.
After the workout, his body was radiating heat. His mood still wasn’t great, but it was better than it had been when he woke and saw the rain.
Back on the 41st floor, Cheon Sejoo walked into his apartment, flapping his sweat-soaked T-shirt. As he passed through the hallway, he peeled it off. Just as he was dropping his pants in front of the living room bathroom—click—a door opened, and from the end of the hall, Sejin appeared. Before their eyes could meet, Sejoo turned and walked straight into the bathroom.
He turned on the hot water and rinsed off his sweat. When he finally stepped out, it was nearly 8 a.m.
“……”
With just a towel draped over his head, he walked into the living room. Sejin was sitting at the table in his school uniform, eating breakfast with a sour look on his face. Since Sejoo had told him not to make anything for him, only a simple bowl of rice and a few side dishes sat on the table.
It was still a strange sight. It would probably take a long time to get used to someone eating breakfast in his house.
Glancing at Sejin, Sejoo walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He didn’t have much of an appetite, so he started mixing a vanilla protein shake. Not long after, a voice full of complaints rang out.
“Do you have to walk around like that?”
Obviously, it was Kwon Sejin.
Cheon Sejoo looked up at him in silence. Whether it was annoyance or pure irritation, his face had gone stiff. Not that it was surprising—Sejin never smiled.
“What do you mean.”
“You’re always half-naked.”
Sejin scowled as he answered, clearly disgusted.
“……”
Only then did Sejoo realize he hadn’t even put on underwear. He quickly, though casually, pulled the towel from his head and wrapped it around his waist. He kept forgetting to put on a bathrobe after showering—even though he kept telling himself to be mindful.
Being gay, it was a little awkward to be naked in front of another man like Sejin, but he’d lived alone for five years. He was used to walking around naked after a shower. Getting dressed right away wasn’t part of his routine.
And anyway, even though Sejin was born with the kind of dick he liked, with that temper and the huge age gap, Sejoo couldn’t see him as a man at all. Not that he saw him as a woman either—he just didn’t register as a sexual being. To Sejoo, Sejin was… just a much younger little brother.
“Better now?”
Sejoo looked down at the towel barely covering his lower half and asked. Sejin didn’t nod—he scowled and stretched his mouth into a line. Then he dropped his chopsticks onto the empty bowl and said:
“I’ll listen to you, okay? But you need to show some basic manners too. Why the hell do I have to know whether or not you’ve got hair down there?”
“You looked pretty close.”
“I did not!”
Sejin shouted, face turning bright red. He looked like he’d just seen the worst thing in the world. That only made Sejoo want to tease him more. It always happened like this when he was around Kwon Sejin—he got childish.
His bad mood forgotten, Sejoo stepped out from behind the island counter and approached.
As Sejin was clearing the side dishes, he turned sharply, scowling at the approaching footsteps. His glare said: Don’t you fucking try anything.
Cheon Sejoo met his gaze with a wide, amused smile.
“What do you think? Pretty big, huh?”
Perched on the back of the sofa, he said it with a smirk. Sejin let out a scoffing laugh in disbelief—but his ears were burning red. Seeing that made Sejoo feel a little better.
“You’re not even—”
“Jealous? Can’t bear to look?”
Maybe he’d tease him a little more. Kwon Sejin’s face was always worth watching. Whether he scowled, glared, or bit his lip like he was about to curse—he looked good doing it. That might be why Sejoo didn’t get mad, no matter how rude Sejin was.
Smiling, Cheon Sejoo waited for his bratty comeback.
But this time, the response that came was ice cold.