“Yeah. So let’s just go home.”
Cheon Sejoo came to that conclusion and stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button and tried to redirect his thoughts elsewhere. But the moment the doors opened on the first floor and he saw that black shape still crouched in the hallway, every thought vanished from his mind.
Like he was being pulled, Sejoo stepped out into the corridor. Standing in front of the child, he whispered in a low voice.
“…Get up.”
The child, curled up tight to shield herself from a merciless world, looked small enough that he could probably lift her with one hand. Cheon Sejoo had seen a child like that before. He also knew what kind of choice a kid, abandoned by the world and left in a place like this for four days, might eventually make.
Would things have turned out differently if someone had reached out back then?
It was a question with no answer. And that’s why Sejoo couldn’t bring himself to just pass her by.
“Get up.”
“……”
At the repeated command, the child slowly lifted her head. Their eyes met.
In those clear, transparent eyes, Cheon Sejoo read a sharp, intense wariness directed solely at him. Only then did he remember what he must look like—his hair a tangled mess, shirt collar unbuttoned, bruising still visible on his neck—definitely not someone who inspired trust.
Clicking his tongue, he crouched in front of her. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to look a little more decent as he studied her.
Even with most of her face hidden by the hoodie and her hair, she was shockingly beautiful. Her long eyes looked like they’d been painted with the tip of a fine brush, her drooping lashes and stiff cheeks, the parched lips that gave ghostly life to her pale face—it all gave her an air like she’d shatter if touched. She had the fragile aura of someone too sensitive for the world. She’d clearly grow up to be a stunning beauty.
Now that he’d seen her face up close, he felt like he’d made the right decision to speak. He couldn’t shake the not-so-baseless certainty that someone like Han Jonghyun wouldn’t possibly pass up a kid this pretty. Which is why Sejoo felt he had no time to waste—he had to get her out of here before that bastard arrived.
“Come on. You said you wanted to see your mom. Let’s go.”
He said it softly, smiling at her with his eyes.
Cheon Sejoo had never once been ignored after speaking that way to a woman. Maybe even little girls weren’t the exception. The child, who had stayed silent all this time, finally opened her mouth.
“…You gonna take me there?”
And it came out in banmal—blunt, informal speech. Her husky voice, likely from hunger, had a strangely androgynous tone. She’s probably a girl, right? Sejoo thought as he studied her. A boy couldn’t possibly be that pretty. No, she definitely had to be a girl.
Sejoo nodded in response to her question. But despite his answer, the child didn’t get up right away. Instead, he heard the faint rustle of fabric as she hugged her knees tighter. She curled up even more, glaring at him with sharp eyes as she scanned him head to toe.
“Who are you?”
Yeah, he hadn’t expected it to be easy.
Sejoo sighed silently and gave his most harmless-looking smile. Calming kids was something he’d done often at the orphanage. This wasn’t hard. He answered in a gentle voice.
“Just a guy who works here.”
But instead of calming her, his attempt to lower himself earned a sharper reply.
“You’re lying.”
“About what.”
Sejoo began to understand what Kim Donggil meant when he said this kid had a temper. She spoke to adults without a hint of hesitation. Even standing in front of someone much bigger, she didn’t flinch.
“You’re lying about taking me to my mom.”
She tilted her head at him as if she didn’t understand a thing, but her eyes stayed locked on his. Like she was trying to dig into his heart, as if to sniff out the lie. But Cheon Sejoo wasn’t soft enough to let a little kid like her see through him.
He let out a short laugh and replied calmly.
“What would I even gain by lying to you?”
“…If you try anything, I won’t let it go.”
Her face said she’d hit him if he so much as laid a finger on her.
Do I really look like such a piece of shit? …Well, maybe I do.
Sejoo let out a self-deprecating laugh, realizing she probably saw him as some thug. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. Without hesitation, he took out his ID and handed it to her.
“If I even lay a finger on you, take that and go straight to the cops. Say whatever you want—say I touched you, say I locked you up, starved you, beat you. Whatever.”
“…It’s fake, isn’t it?”
He’d given it to ease her suspicion, but instead got hit with an even deeper accusation. Sejoo let out a dry laugh. He hadn’t expected it to go that far.
He stared, dumbfounded, as the girl turned the ID over and over, blew on it, rubbed it with her sleeve—only after all that did she finally shove it into her hoodie pocket. Seemed like she’d decided it was real.
Still, she didn’t completely let her guard down. She stood up cautiously, keeping her distance from Sejoo. Just like one of those stray cats that used to show up behind the orphanage—took three months of feeding snacks before they’d raise their tails and come close.
But he didn’t have three months to spare.
Cheon Sejoo checked the watch on his right wrist and slowly stood. When she’d been crouching, he’d thought she was tiny—but standing, she was taller than he expected.
Surprised, Sejoo muttered,
“You going to see your mom or not? I’m busy.”
“I’m going. But don’t call yourself ‘uncle.’ I never had an uncle like you.”
“……”
The little brat wasn’t going to be easy.
Sejoo looked down at her with an incredulous smile. She was probably the kind of kid who called the elderly server at a sundae soup place employee instead of auntie. Then it hit him—those meatheads from Shinsa Capital always called themselves “uncle” when talking to debtors’ kids.
She’d probably watched one of those “uncles” take her mother away right in front of her. No wonder she hated the word.
So then… what should he call himself?
He rubbed his cheek, trying to guess her age, then asked,
“Then… oppa?”
“……”
Worse than uncle.
Her small face flushed red, and she glared at him like she was holding back a curse, biting her lip.
Picky little thing…
Sejoo gave a short chuckle and nodded as if to say “fine, fine.”
“Alright, I’m just a guy who’s busy. Let’s go.”
Only then did the frown on her forehead begin to ease slightly.
Sejoo jerked his chin toward the exit and turned around.
Outside, the Lamborghini was still parked exactly where it had been. When he saw the same plastic cup still lying on the sidewalk nearby, Sejoo frowned. He gave a silent nod to the guy standing watch at the building entrance, telling him to clean it up—but the clueless bastard bent at the waist and shouted,
“Sorry, boss!”
“……”
Goddamn it. I seriously need to make them stop calling me that.
Annoyed, he glared at the guy and turned his head—only to feel a stare coming from beside him.
Sejoo caught it—her eyes shifting from him to the man, filled with thinly veiled disgust.
He didn’t really care. It was expected. The kid had every reason in the world to hate people like them.
Shoving the girl into the passenger seat, Cheon Sejoo walked around to the driver’s side and got in. But just as he started the engine, he noticed she was fumbling awkwardly, unable to fasten the seatbelt.
“You just pull the strap behind you and stick it into the thing down below.”
At his instruction, the girl grabbed the belt behind her shoulder and gave it a tug. But not knowing where it was supposed to go, the strap kept veering off to her side. It was a common sight among people seeing a four-point harness for the first time. Watching her struggle, Sejoo added, “Not there,” and pointed it out again, but even then, she couldn’t figure out where it was supposed to latch. Eventually, frustrated, he sighed and leaned over.
“I’ll do it. Give it to me.”
The girl hesitated, then handed the belt to him.
Sejoo stretched the clip outward to lengthen the strap, then reached between her legs to plug it into the buckle.
“Don’t…!”
Her sudden, sharp voice startled him and he jerked his torso upright. A cold silence settled over the inside of the car.
Meeting her gaze—her face on the verge of tears as she glared—Cheon Sejoo finally realized she’d misunderstood what he was doing. A chill ran down his spine.
“Sorry. The buckle’s down here.”
Feeling like the worst kind of garbage, he quickly spread his legs and pointed to the seatbelt buckle resting between his knees. Even after confirming its location, the girl didn’t easily let down her guard. Watching her still scowling and clumsily tugging at the belt, Sejoo didn’t turn the key until he finally heard the soft click of the buckle locking in place.
He muttered another apology and stepped on the accelerator. He hadn’t even pulled out yet, and already he felt completely drained.
“What do you want for lunch? You haven’t eaten in days, right?”
Wanting to do something about the frozen air between them, Sejoo tried his best to sound gentle. The girl didn’t answer right away. He figured he could understand what might be going through her head, sitting in a stranger’s car like this, so he didn’t press her for a reply.
Still, considering her combative attitude, she’d gotten into the car surprisingly easily. Just judging by the look in her eyes earlier, he’d thought it would take a whole scene...
At the red light, he used the pause to glance over at her. That pretty face, striking enough to make you turn back even after walking past it, caught his eye again. Then it occurred to him—he didn’t even know her name.
“What’s your name?”
“…Kwon Sejin.”
“Pretty name.”
At the compliment, Sejin once again shot him a frosty glare. Like a damn hedgehog—every single word met with spines. Even compliments weren’t safe. Sejoo pretended not to notice and stepped on the gas again.
Silence filled the car. It wasn’t until about ten minutes after they’d pulled out that he heard Sejin’s voice again.
“…I don’t have money to eat.”
For a second, Sejoo didn’t understand what she meant. Then he realized it was her delayed answer to his earlier question, and he smiled faintly. Turning his head, he looked at her and said,
“I’ll buy it for you.”
“…Don’t bother.”
She declined, but Sejoo figured it was just her being polite and let it slide with a laugh. Tapping the steering wheel with his fingers, he wondered. Should he feed her porridge since she hadn’t eaten in days? Or something more filling, like seolleongtang?
He decided it would be better to just ask.
“Want porridge? Or seolleongtang? Whichever.”
“I told you I’m not eating.”
He thought he’d asked kindly, but what came back was another cold refusal.
Annoyed by her attitude, Sejoo hit the brake and looked directly at Sejin. That cold, expressionless face was staring straight back at him. He could feel the massive wall she’d built up around herself.
Suddenly feeling a headache, Sejoo pulled the car over and unbuckled his seatbelt. He fiddled with a cigarette but dropped his hand again, then turned to look at Kwon Sejin.
“Why won’t you eat?”
“…I don’t want to owe someone like you.”
Cheeky as hell. She was riding in someone else’s car, and still acting like this. At the very least, she should be begging for a bite to eat. Saying something like that in her situation—Cheon Sejoo smiled silently. A part of him found it absurd that even a kid he’d only just met could already see him as trash.
“What do you mean by someone like me.”
After a moment of thought, he asked quietly. The weight in his sunken voice was clear.
Only then did Sejin seem to realize she’d said something wrong. Her face contorted slightly, and she clamped her mouth shut.
A brief glance—those clear eyes flicked toward his face. His lips were curled into a smile, but his eyes, cold and sharp, weren’t smiling at all. When their eyes met, Sejin bit down hard on her lower lip, then mumbled in a subdued voice,
“I said it wrong. You don’t have to buy me food. I’m not hungry. Just… please help me meet my mom…”
Seeing her fold so quickly, Sejoo stared quietly out the side window. But despite the timid voice, her eyes still held resistance. Her fixed stare made it clear—she was forcing herself to lower her posture.
That attitude stirred something like pity in Sejoo.
But to be honest, he had no real intention of helping her that far. He’d only planned to get her out of Han Jonghyun’s line of sight, feed her, and send her on her way. Doing anything more made a certain someone keep coming to mind—and that made him hesitate.
But now, seeing a kid willing to swallow her pride just to see her mother, bowing her head even to someone like him… it pulled at him.
“You really want to see your mom?”
At Cheon Sejoo’s soft question, Sejin gave a small nod.
Letting her meet her just once wouldn’t be hard. Ihwagak wasn’t an unfamiliar place, and there were people he could call on for a favor.
It might’ve been meddling, but saying now that he hadn’t meant to help her at all—it felt like she’d take that as a betrayal. No need to earn someone’s resentment over something so small. Convincing himself of that, Sejoo finally opened his mouth.
“Then you’d better listen to what I say. How do you know what I’ll do to your mom, calling me someone like that?”
“…I didn’t mean it on purpose.”
“I’m not some uptight old geezer. I’m even letting you talk back and speak rudely. But saying shit like that—that’s crossing the line, isn’t it? Don’t you think?”
At Sejoo’s icy reprimand, Sejin bit her lip hard.
A cold silence blanketed the inside of the car. She sat still for a while, like she’d been caught off guard. Then suddenly, she turned to him with eyes full of fire and asked,
“Can you really let me meet her?”
The question was full of distrust.
Sejoo didn’t answer. He simply smiled and turned the key again.
As the car pulled away, heading toward home, he said to her,
“I’m the only one there who can help you. Porridge or seolleongtang—pick.”
Sejin didn’t answer immediately. She looked at Sejoo as he drove, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. But in the end, she realized she didn’t really have a choice. Slumping back in her seat, she muttered in a gloomy voice,
“Seolleongtang… with somyeon.”
“……”
That was pretty damn bold.
Sejoo gave her a sideways glance and let out a faint laugh. But the one who’d spoken didn’t seem to think much of it, just stared blankly out the window.
Sejoo nodded, said “Alright,” and placed the order at the next red light.
And the whole way home, he kept thinking about what the hell he was supposed to do with her.