The drowsy, not-so-bad feeling from earlier crashed down to the pavement. Heat flared from his palms where they had hit the cold brick sidewalk. As he lifted his body, he saw blood seeping from the skin scraped against the rough brick surface. Sejin clenched his fist in irritation and glared at Lee Haegyun.
He couldn’t understand why this bastard was so obsessed with him. Sejin barely reacted to anything—if it were him, he would've gotten bored and quit by now. But Haegyun was like a man possessed, picking fights over everything as if he couldn’t rest unless he was tormenting Sejin.
This time was no different. Sejin had fallen, cursed once, then shut his mouth. And yet, that only seemed to excite Haegyun more, who now ran his mouth off.
“That guy good at fucking? Fuck, I’m pretty good myself.”
It had been two months since he’d started being called a whore. And it had been over a month since Haegyun began talking about sex every time he saw him. Sejin stared at the idiot grinning and gyrating in front of him like he’d lost his damn mind. He looked like one of those inflatable dancing puppets in front of a cellphone store. Just stupid enough to not even want to deal with.
Ignoring him, Sejin started walking again. Cold crept into his bones. He just wanted to get to the car already. But Haegyun was relentless. The more Sejin ignored him, the more vulgar he got.
“Where you goin’? I said let me have a turn too.”
The disgusting voice made Sejin grimace as he zipped up his padded jacket. It felt like his ears were rotting. And just as he took one step closer to Cheon Sejoo’s car, Haegyun muttered in a voice barely audible over the wind.
“Whore… son of a whore…”
The sharp winter wind scattered the words, but the tone was unmistakable. Sejin stopped mid-step and turned around. His face, frozen in a cold sneer, carried all the chill of the season.
“What did you just say?”
Sejin’s sharp voice hit Haegyun square in the chest. It was the first real reaction Sejin had shown in nearly a year, and Haegyun feigned surprise. But then, like he couldn’t waste the chance, he grinned and stepped closer. The mix of cigarette stink and cloying cheap cologne made Sejin nauseous. Grimacing, he looked up at Haegyun and asked again.
“I said, what the fuck did you just say.”
“What do you mean what? I said, you’re a whore acting all high and mighty. Want me to say it again? That you’re just some street-level rentboy who grew up with trash parents and doesn’t know his fucking place!”
Still smirking, Haegyun raised his hand and slapped Sejin’s hood off his head. The padded jacket’s hood fell back, revealing a flushed face under the winter sky. Staring down at Sejin, Haegyun swallowed dryly, then leaned down and whispered,
“I said, is he good at sex? My dick’s fuckin’ huge, you know…”
“…That guy doesn’t have a pig’s fucking trotters hanging between his legs like you do, you fat bastard. Try comparing what’s even remotely comparable.”
Haegyun was stunned for a second by the sharp retort, eyes going wide.
“What…?”
Sejin hadn’t planned to say anything—but the nonstop mention of that man pissed him off. People could delude themselves all they wanted, but hearing someone talk like that guy was constantly on top of him was driving him crazy. And he was almost certain Haegyun had said something about his mom earlier too—though the bastard had changed his words. So maybe a part of him wanted to provoke him.
“Cut the shit. I’ve got zero desire to get fucked by trash like you.”
For a brief moment, Haegyun looked delighted by the raw response—but then, realizing the insult had been directed squarely at him, his face flushed red and twisted with rage.
“You little fuck, you seriously need to get your ass beat.”
Snapping out of it, Haegyun grabbed Sejin by the collar, seething. Sejin narrowed his eyes and laughed in his face.
It had been nearly a year since this shit started. He’d ignored everything they said, not because the words didn’t land, but because he refused to play along with idiots. But inside, the disgust had been piling up. Haegyun and Kim Byungjun were just too noisy, too stinking, too disgusting.
That disgust had reached a breaking point lately—and if anyone laid a hand on him now, Sejin had no intention of holding back.
“Do it. Hit me!”
His sharp voice made nearby pedestrians turn their heads. Haegyun, face twisted, shouted shut up! and raised his hand like he was about to strike.
Then—baaaang! A long horn blasted from the black SUV.
The ear-piercing sound jerked Haegyun back to reality. Only then did he seem to remember the car sitting there. Flustered, he froze. Sejin glared past him at the interruption, then shouted again at Haegyun:
“Come on, hit me! Do it!”
He wasn’t afraid of getting hit. He fully intended to hit back. But if he didn’t want to pay damages, he had to let the other guy land the first punch. If he struck first, he’d be the aggressor—but if he got hit first, then it was self-defense. A counterattack.
“Fuckin’ hell…”
But Sejin’s wish didn’t come true. Caught off guard by Sejin’s sudden confrontation, Haegyun let go of his collar and backed away. His eyes darted between the SUV honking nonstop and Sejin glaring at him like a demon.
Then he muttered fuck, turned, and walked away.
Sejin clenched his jaw as he watched the bastard retreat. It was a waste. That was his perfect chance to blow off everything that had built up—and someone had ruined it. Sejin stood there, fists clenched, then finally walked toward Cheon Sejoo’s still-blaring car. The horn only stopped once he climbed into the passenger seat. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Why’d you get in the way?”
Sejin turned to Cheon Sejoo, whose eyebrows were pulled together in a scowl, and snapped.
Sejoo stared at him with a stiff face, as if wondering if he’d heard right.
“What?”
“I said why’d you honk like that?”
“……”
But Sejin was dead serious. He was pissed that he’d lost his chance. On Sejoo’s handsome face, a look of incredulity flickered. He stared at Sejin in silence for a moment, then scoffed and asked,
“What, are you a masochist?”
“What? What the hell’s that? Don’t change the subject. I’m asking why you interfered. If you hadn’t, I could’ve decked that bastard.”
“……”
Sejin frowned, saying exactly what was on his mind. Sejoo was at a loss for words again. He stared at Sejin like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
If Sejin got in a fight with that little bastard, of course he’d be the one getting his ass beat. Even if he managed to land the first punch by some miracle, he’d end up getting wailed on after that. And he says he could’ve taken him?
What kind of logic is that? Is he the type who thinks that even if you get hit ten times, landing one punch makes it worth it?
Realizing that Sejin was truly that dumb, Sejoo remembered how utterly hopeless the kid was at math—and nodded to himself. Yup. That moron definitely thinks like that.
“That punk’s been harassing you constantly?”
If they kept arguing about the logic of “hit first, hit back,” Sejoo’s brain was going to melt—so he changed the subject. He tried not to let it show, but his voice came out sharp anyway.
At the question, Sejin sighed like it was the dumbest thing to ask and replied while buckling his seatbelt.
“He’s just being annoying.”
“You call that just being annoying? That bastard was waiting for you at the school gate.”
Sejin didn’t know it, but Cheon Sejoo was on the verge of losing his mind. The gender, name, face, and behavior were all different—but the moment he saw Sejin getting cornered at school, all he could think of was Hyein. If he’d had even a little less self-control, he wouldn’t be in the Porsche right now—he’d be in a police car.
But Sejin, who had no idea what was going through his head, only found the interference annoying. He let out a short sigh and looked at Sejoo.
“It’s none of your business, isn’t it? If you cared that much, you should’ve gotten out and chased him off. All you did was honk. What does it matter to you if that guy bullies me or not?”
If I’d gotten out, that fucker would’ve died. Sejoo bit back the words and looked at Sejin. The kid’s ears and cheeks were still faintly red—maybe from the fever—but he was sneering like Haegyun’s harassment was nothing.
For some reason, that made Sejoo even angrier. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to control himself. He didn’t want Sejin to know just how much he cared. But he couldn’t just let this go, either.
After Hyein died, Sejoo had resented her for a while.
Why hadn’t she told him?
If she had, he would’ve done anything to stop it. He would’ve made it all go away. Even in her suicide note, she hadn’t written a single word to him. He’d thought she was cruel for that.
Because of that, Cheon Sejoo couldn’t be sure that Kwon Sejin was really okay, even though he seemed fine. Kwon Sejin hadn’t opened up to him, so for all anyone knew, he could be rotting inside like Hyein had.
“If you can’t stand that bastard bothering you, just tell me. I’ll take care of it.”
At those genuinely spoken words, Sejin’s expression hardened.
His eyes, as transparent as glass beads, turned toward Cheon Sejoo. Every time that man showed a responsible side of himself, Sejin couldn’t help but raise his expectations toward him. But when that man said it like he would truly take responsibility for him—this time, even Sejin couldn’t help but scoff.
Lee Haegyun and that man were the same kind of person. Sejin might not have been a target of extortion himself, but he knew that Lee Haegyun was going around taking money from other kids. Just like that man’s colleagues had dumped debt on his mother and taken her wages, Lee Haegyun was no different from them. And now this man said he’d “take care” of Lee Haegyun? It wasn’t even funny.
“Are you a cop or something? Don’t act like you’re somebody.”
Sejin asked coolly, then let out a breath like he was fed up and continued.
“Assholes like that grow up to become assholes like you. He’s not even worth dealing with. Don’t try to meddle in my personal life.”
At that wall of a statement, Cheon Sejoo twisted up the corner of his mouth. A chill passed through his sharp gaze, and as he roughly stepped on the gas, the car roared forward with a loud exhaust. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that a faint cracking sound rang out.
It wasn’t about anything else—just the fact that Sejin was being bullied, and yet telling him not to interfere—that made his blood boil. It probably meant Kwon Sejin hadn’t opened up to him that much. And even though he understood that, he couldn’t control the anger burning inside. Cheon Sejoo clenched his teeth and spit out whatever came to mind. Get faster updates on novelping(.)com.
“How the hell is that your ‘personal life’? If he pulls that shit in front of me again, I’ll run him over with my car. Just so you know.”
At those chilling words, Sejin slowly turned his eyes to look at Cheon Sejoo.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? Think I can’t do it?”
The man’s taunting tone was unlike his usual self. He looked like the kind of thug Sejin remembered him to be. But even with his eyes glaring like that, he didn’t seem scary.
You and Lee Haegyun are the same. Even though he had grasped the meaning hidden in those words, the man didn’t say anything about it. The reason he was angry was simply because Sejin was trying to ignore Lee Haegyun’s bullying.
Why the hell is that your business?
Sejin didn’t understand. The fact that Cheon Sejoo was angry that he was being bullied—it almost sounded like the man cared deeply for him.
You think you’re different from Lee Haegyun? The question suddenly surged up, but Sejin didn’t ask it aloud. Deep down, truthfully, he already knew. This man was different from anyone else. Different from his father, his uncle, and Lee Haegyun—he was unlike any of them.
But because of an overwhelming instinct for self-preservation, Sejin didn’t want to admit that Cheon Sejoo was different. He ignored the warmth welling up somewhere in his chest, scoffed, and shot back.
“That’s your idea of a solution? Figures you’d handle it like a thug. Real classy.”
At that sharp retort, Cheon Sejoo stepped on the gas again without a word, the loud engine sound cutting through the road. The two of them drove in silence toward the Ihwagak house.
The place Sejin used to live was a semi-basement apartment at the edge of a residential neighborhood. There was a clothing factory right next door, so the sound of motorbikes never stopped all day, and because of that, the windows of the narrow, damp, mold-ridden house were always shut tight. Sejin had spent most of his short life in that suffocating space. In contrast, the man’s house was pointlessly big and wide, so much so that there wasn’t a single trace of noise. When he closed his eyes to sleep, it was a calm place where only the sound of his breathing echoed quietly.
Sejin liked that stillness. He liked that in this quiet house, he wouldn’t lose track of a conversation with his mother because of a blaring car horn.
Once all the debts were paid off, Sejin wanted to live in a house like this with his mother. A warm house, one without drafts, without mold—a clean, quiet home.
To do that, he needed to start saving money early, but he wasn’t in a situation where he could get a part-time job. Because of that nagging, meddling bastard trying to interfere with his life plans. When he thought of the man, Sejin’s previously calm face crumpled. If it hadn’t been for him, he’d have already saved at least 500,000 won by now…. At this rate, when he became an adult and had to leave this house, he’d be going empty-handed.
Telling him not to get a part-time job when he’s not even going to pay a deposit—Sejin was sick of the man’s irresponsible nagging. Studying doesn’t put food on the table, and there’s no guarantee that just one year of studying would get him into a university with a full scholarship. That man really was an uneducated idiot, just as his thoughts were short-sighted. Although… lately, it was getting hard to be sure. Sejin kept finding himself thinking the man might actually be smart….
Anyway, just thinking of that man made him sigh. Sejin told himself that once winter break came, he’d be able to work part-time again, and stood up. As the blanket slipped off, the air that touched his warm body felt chilly. The slight fever that had settled into him for days was still there. But since it wasn’t interfering much with daily life, he didn’t bother with any fever reducers.
He went to the bathroom, lightly washed his face, and came out. It was nearing 9 a.m., but the house was still quiet, as if the man was still asleep.
Sejin headed for the kitchen and started tidying up the fridge. He pulled out the eggs and ingredients he’d bought last weekend and set them on the counter. He gathered the last of the side dishes into one bowl to finish them off for breakfast. After placing the eggs soaking in cold water onto the induction cooktop to boil, he scooped out the remaining rice and ate breakfast.
Ten minutes later, he finished eating, got up, peeled the hot eggs in cold water, and trimmed the pork tenderloin, removing the membranes before boiling it. He picked through some slightly wilted chives, used half to make a small batch of chive kimchi, and cut the rest into finger-length pieces for pancakes.
While Sejin was diligently working through the chores, Cheon Sejoo finally woke up. Just before noon, he came out yawning, dressed in sweatpants barely hanging off his hips and a thin white T-shirt that showed the tattoo on his back. With a sleep-muddled face and messy hair, he trudged to the fridge, pulled out a beer, downed the whole 500 mL can like it was water, then grabbed a bottle of water and headed for the sofa.
Flop. Sejin heard the sound of the man collapsing onto the sofa and couldn’t hide the look of disdain he threw toward the living room. Before he knew it, the TV had turned on, and a children’s cartoon was playing. The man was watching it like he was hypnotized.
That was his whole weekend routine. He’d sit like that, go to the bathroom, smoke, take a nap. He lectured Sejin about “thinking about the future” while behaving like someone with no future himself. The contradiction in his behavior was so extreme that Sejin couldn’t help but rebel against him.
Every time he nagged, Sejin thought of the 47-year-old son of the old lady next door. Of course, even with that worn-out face, the man lounging in front of him had a cinematic air that couldn’t be compared to that uncle… But still, that guy had been preparing for a government job for twenty years and would constantly spout off half-baked knowledge whenever he saw Sejin or his mom. It was just garbage disguised as advice.
Sejin stared at the man who was lying down smoking, exposing the scarred skin of his lower stomach. Worry about your own damn self… Watching the laziest man in the house lecture him every day, he shook his head and walked into the living room. Bang—he opened all the windows to let the cigarette smoke out with cross-ventilation. Only then did the man acknowledge him. “Hey…,” he drawled, stubbing out his cigarette and looking up at Sejin.
“I’m cold.”
“It’s ventilation time.”
Sejin replied curtly and headed back to the kitchen. It was already lunchtime. He’d eaten breakfast two hours ago, but Sejin always got hungry quickly. Planning to eat lunch with Cheon Sejoo, he started a new batch of rice and made chive pancakes. He put about eight well-braised eggs into a bowl, transferred the radish salad and chive kimchi into side dishes. Meanwhile, Cheon Sejoo secretly closed the windows and curled up on the sofa like a cocoon until the cold in the living room faded.
Once Sejin finished setting the table, he called the man before scooping the rice.
“Time to eat.”
When the man practically rolled off the sofa and trudged over, Sejin turned away. He scooped only half a bowl for the man and a heaping one for himself—not out of spite, but because the man never had much appetite. While Sejin was busy serving, the man grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and set it on the table. Sitting across from each other, they ate in silence. Sejin didn’t look at him. If their eyes met, who knew what kind of nagging would start. So, staring only at his own bowl, Sejin rattled off what he had to say.
“We need to go grocery shopping today. We’re out of rice. The vacuum cleaner’s broken. Won’t charge. We need to buy disposable mop wipes. We’re out of bleach, and I want a new scrub brush.”
“What the hell… You rapping or something?”
Apparently, the man hadn’t even properly listened to the list. At Cheon Sejoo’s response, Sejin looked up with a scowl. But when their eyes met, the man chuckled, picked up his chopsticks, and placed an egg on top of Sejin’s rice bowl.
“Nice rhyme.”
“…….”