“You thought I was some pervert who liked little girls… and you thought if you let me keep thinking you were a girl, I’d help you until you got to see your mom, so you didn’t say anything on purpose…”
On purpose.
Cheon Sejoo rubbed his cheek with his fingertips and rolled his tongue inside his mouth. But even though it was obviously a situation where he’d been deceived, he wasn’t angry. It was just absurd.
If he’d known from the beginning that Kwon Sejin was a boy, Cheon Sejoo never would have brought him home. As far as he knew, Han Jonghyun was a heterosexual down to his bones—no matter how pretty a boy was, there’s no way he would’ve touched him.
If that had happened… would Sejin still be in that spot even now? Judging by that shameless and stubborn personality that still calls him a pervert even to his face, he probably would’ve been.
And if he’d stayed there, the outcome would’ve been obvious. Kwon Sejin would’ve collapsed from hunger and been rushed to the hospital. After that, he would’ve been handed over to the police, and if Sejin mentioned Shinsa Capital, things would’ve gotten complicated.
So no matter how it happened, the fact that he came with him was the right call. Kwon Sejin made the best choice in the worst situation.
“…Now that you know, are you going to kick me out?”
While lost in thought, Sejin asked in a nervous voice.
It was a fair question. If he wouldn’t have taken him in had he known he was a boy, should he be kicking him out now?
Cheon Sejoo thought it over seriously and came to a conclusion.
He had no intention of throwing Kwon Sejin out right this moment. What was he supposed to do with someone he’d already picked up? He’d even gone as far as asking Chae Beomjun for help—he couldn’t just say “you’re a boy, get lost” now.
But Cheon Sejoo did decide to change the plan. Instead of sending Sejin to the orphanage after meeting his mother, he would just turn him loose afterward.
When it came to women, he might hesitate—but not with men. That might be a sexist mindset, but he didn’t care. At eighteen, a boy was basically an adult. He could take care of himself without help.
By the time Cheon Sejoo was eighteen, he’d already laid out a full plan for his life. Even though it all fell apart, at the time he’d had the ability to take responsibility for himself. So he couldn’t help but hold Sejin, who was also male, to the same standard. But before he could say anything, Sejin clung to him, almost pleading.
“…It was my fault. If you want to hit me, I’ll take it. You’re probably mad, so it’s okay if you kick me out… Just let me meet my mom once. If you just do that, I’ll wait in front of your house until tomorrow…”
That sulky voice that always carried a note of displeasure turned unbelievably fragile when he spoke of his mother. It meant Kwon Sejin was truly desperate.
But what caught Cheon Sejoo’s attention was something else entirely. He looked at Sejin with a cold, steady gaze.
“You’ll take it if I hit you?”
What kind of eighteen-year-old says shit like that?
But before he could even react to the question that sounded cold on the surface, Kwon Sejin did something even more outrageous.
He moved closer to Cheon Sejoo, knelt down, clasped his hands together over his knees, and lifted his head. With his eyes lowered, his mouth clamped shut in that position, Cheon Sejoo was too stunned to be angry.
“…”
It should’ve been a moment to at least scold the little punk who had lied to him—but faced with that, he really didn’t know what to say. Feeling his chest swell with words too heavy to say out loud, Cheon Sejoo stood up to shake it off. As he left the living room and headed toward the kitchen, Sejin’s gaze followed his back.
Kwon Sejin watched Cheon Sejoo with a baffled expression, like he couldn’t understand why the man wasn’t hitting him or cursing him out, even after the lie had been exposed.
Cheon Sejoo came back from the kitchen holding a canned beer. He popped open a 500mL can and chugged half of it without pausing for breath. Then he sat cross-legged on the couch and rested his chin in his hand. One side of his face squished under his large palm, making him squint out of that eye.
He just stared at Sejin like that, until finally, the boy broke the silence.
“You’re not mad?”
“……”
Cheon Sejoo didn’t answer. He just sat there with a face that said he had no idea what to do with this kid.
“…You’re not even gonna curse me out?”
“……”
He’d already cursed plenty in his head. No need to say it out loud.
“You really won’t hit me? Even though I tricked you. If you’re gonna hit me, just do it already…”
That line left him speechless.
If you’re worried about getting hit for lying, shouldn’t you at least fix your goddamn tone first?
“You should work on your attitude when you’re talking to someone who’s helping you.”
“……”
At that, Sejin scrunched his face. It smoothed out again quickly, but Cheon Sejoo had more than enough time to read the thought behind it: Why the hell are you saying that?
He clicked his tongue, freshly aware of how shameless Kwon Sejin really was. Then he asked:
“Did you grow up getting hit?”
“…What?”
Sejin avoided his gaze and gave a small nod.
He clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Cheon Sejoo pursed his lips with mild irritation, then looked at Sejin—who was still wordlessly asking, Why aren’t you angry?
“Don’t make it obvious you’ve been hit before. There’s nothing that makes someone look more pathetic.”
“……”
Sejin scowled again and went quiet for a moment. Then he answered, sounding like he was genuinely pissed off to be hearing something like that from Cheon Sejoo, of all people.
“You’re the one who said you’d let me see my mom. That’s why I was gonna let you hit me. I wouldn’t act like this for anyone else.”
“Great. Real proud of you.”
That pretty little face scrunched up again.
Sejin stared at Cheon Sejoo with a sulky look, like annoyance was bubbling up to his throat. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. His hands fidgeted in frustration for a long moment before he let out a small sigh and finally asked:
“…You really won’t kick me out?”
“You keep asking that ‘cause you want to be kicked out?”
“No!”
“Then shut up. I’m still thinking.”
At Cheon Sejoo’s snappish reply, Sejin raised his voice. And even then, he still kept looking at him the same way. It was obvious what he was thinking: I seriously don’t get this guy.
Cheon Sejoo met his gaze, then rubbed his forehead as a headache crept in.
If there was a reason to kick Kwon Sejin out right now, it would be that he—the type Cheon Sejoo was least interested in—was exactly Sejoo’s supposed “type.” Small, pretty boys. But Sejoo had no interest in touching a minor.
To be specific, he had no interest in kids more than five years younger than him.
Yeah, the kid’s face was shockingly pretty—pretty enough to wipe out all memory of Doyoon’s, whom he’d been seeing for years—but Sejin was still a minor.
And this was the same little brat who hadn’t once used honorifics, even in a clearly unequal situation like this. He was so far from Cheon Sejoo’s type, it was laughable.
Point is, aside from that, there really wasn’t any reason to kick Sejin out right away. Lying about being a girl to meet his mom? That could be passed off as a cute lie. It wasn’t like they were short on rooms.
In fact, the fact that he pretended to be a girl just to see his mom made Sejoo feel a bit touched. It must’ve been embarrassing.
Maybe that’s why Sejin glanced up at him nervously and asked:
“…Did you really bring me here just to help?”
There was a glimmer of hope in Sejin’s eyes as he asked.
Cheon Sejoo caught it easily—and his expression hardened.
When he’d seen Sejin squatting in the hallway, he’d seen the end of Hyein in him. And he’d reached out his hand because he wanted Sejin to meet a different end than Hyein had.
On the way home, when Sejin had swallowed his pride just to see his mom—Sejoo had felt pity.
That’s what had moved him.
A selfish desire to rewind a past he regretted. Pity.
Not kindness. Not the goodwill Sejin was hoping for.
Cheon Sejoo downed the rest of his beer in one gulp and looked at Sejin. The boy’s glassy brown eyes sparkled in the light.
And in that moment, Cheon Sejoo felt a chill wash through his veins.
Cheon Sejoo knew exactly what Sejin was feeling toward him right now.
It was hope.
Hope that maybe Cheon Sejoo wasn’t as bad a person as he had feared—based on the belief that he had helped without asking for anything in return. A faint, foolish hope that maybe he was actually a good person.
But Cheon Sejoo no longer wanted to be the object of anyone’s hope.
Everyone who had once looked to him with expectation—he had let them all down. He didn’t want to do it again. Even if emotions belonged solely to the one who harbored them, he hated it when people expected anything from him.
His face, lost in thought, suddenly emptied of expression. The coldness returned to his gaze.
“No.”
Crack.
The empty can crumpled loudly in his hand. Cheon Sejoo tossed the crushed can onto the table with a harsh clang, then slumped into the couch. As he sank into the cushions, he curled the corner of his mouth into a mocking smile and added:
“You’re pretty, so I was planning to sell you off. But now that plan’s fucked.”
It was a lie.
But Sejin’s face collapsed instantly at those words. He flinched and backed away, clenching his fists and glaring at Cheon Sejoo. In his eyes, that flicker of hope was extinguished and replaced with rising hostility.
Watching it happen, Cheon Sejoo continued in a calm voice.
“Otherwise, why the hell would I buy food for some snot-nosed brat who talks down to me? I’m not running a charity.”
“……”
Sejin bit his lips—just like he had that first day they met.
His lips, once faintly pink, turned a raw red as he chewed them. Cheon Sejoo reached for a cigarette again.
“Anyway, a promise is a promise. I’ll let you see your mom. So stay put until then. We’re going tomorrow.”
Just like before, his tone was laced with cold indifference, as if fabricated on purpose. Cheon Sejoo leaned on the armrest and turned his gaze away. As if he had no interest in Sejin anymore, he looked out past the transparent glass window at Seoul Forest and the Han River.
While he stayed like that, he heard the rustle of Sejin standing up beside him. Without turning his head, he said:
“I’ll call you later. We’ll order lunch.”
“……”
Sejin left without a word.
As he watched the boy’s retreating back, Cheon Sejoo raised his voice.
“You’re not gonna answer?”
“…Okay.”
Sejin answered without really looking at him, then walked away silently.
Left alone in the living room, Cheon Sejoo clutched his head as the headache swelled. It was now, all of a sudden, that he began to regret the whole thing. For the first time in a long while, his mind was overwhelmed with genuine remorse.
***
The day he learned that Sejin was a boy, Cheon Sejoo also found out through the access logs that the kid hadn’t been going to school.
To someone like Cheon Sejoo, who once dragged himself onto a bus to school even with a 40-degree fever, that was incomprehensible.
But he didn’t interfere.
He figured it was no longer any of his business.
Then Wednesday came.
Ihwagak, where Sejin’s mother now worked, was nestled in the mountains just outside Seoul. Cheon Sejoo woke up early, went to the gym, finished a sparring match with Shin Goyeon, took a quick shower, and changed into a suit.
Then he dragged Sejin out of the house.
“Put on your seatbelt.”
His right arm ached from the hits he’d taken during the match.
As he rotated his arm to loosen the muscle, Cheon Sejoo started the engine.
Sejin was wearing the same clothes as the day they met. Because Sejoo had promised to lend him clothes on Sunday and never did, Sejin had no choice but to wear the hoodie he’d washed in the bathroom—still carrying a faint, musty smell.
Click.
The seatbelt latched, and the car pulled out. Neither Cheon Sejoo nor Kwon Sejin said a word as they headed toward Ihwagak.
In icy silence, the two of them left Seoul behind.
They exited the short highway, drove down a stretch of national road, and then spent another ten minutes winding up into the mountains before a grand hanok estate finally appeared.
Today was Ihwagak’s one and only rest day of the week, so the parking lot in front was empty.
Only a few employees moved busily about, wiping dust from the walls or unloading ingredients from a truck.
Cheon Sejoo passed the front gate and brought the car to the rear entrance.
He parked in the employee lot—right on time for the scheduled 10 a.m. appointment.
As he got out of the driver’s seat, Sejin followed behind.
“Hello, Chief Cheon.”
In front of the low wall leading to the staff dormitory, a woman in a neat hanbok greeted them warmly—even on her day off.
It was Han Jiwon, the manager of Ihwagak.
Cheon Sejoo, for once, returned the greeting with a gentle smile.
“Hello, long time no see. Thank you for agreeing to this.”
“Oh, don’t mention it. Chief Chae asked, and he said it was your request too—how could I say no?”
She smiled with her eyes and gave a small nod. Then she looked directly at Sejin and smiled again.
“So you’re Sejin. Hello there.”
“…Hello.”
He replied politely, his angelic face paired with formal speech.
Cheon Sejoo shot him a sidelong glance.
Apparently, Sejin only showed that prideful attitude to people he saw as a threat. It didn’t surprise him at all to realize that he himself was included in that category.
Without emotion, he turned his gaze away and followed Han Jiwon inside.
The two were led into the staff housing.
Even though it was a rest day, the off-duty workers were all busy prepping ingredients in the main building or helping elsewhere.
The only person left in the warm living room was a frail-looking young woman.
“Sejin…!”
As soon as Sejin stepped inside, the woman rushed to him and embraced him tightly.
She broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.
Leaving the mother and son to their tearful reunion, Cheon Sejoo followed Han Jiwon into the adjoining kitchen.
There was nowhere else to sit but the dining table. As soon as he took a seat, Han Jiwon added ice to a pre-brewed coffee and offered it to him.
“Here, Chief. I’ll go check on the main building.”
“Thank you, Manager.”
Cheon Sejoo drank the coffee she left behind and watched the two from afar.
The house was small enough that every word spoken in the living room reached him unfiltered.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
Sejin’s mother, Kim Hyunkyung, had clearly been suffering for the past week.
Of course she had—what mother would stay sane after being suddenly separated from her son?
Her cheeks were sunken.
She had the drawn look of someone who hadn’t slept properly in days.
“Where’s your phone? Why didn’t you pick up?!”
Still, now that she’d seen her son, her voice had regained its sharpness.
As soon as Sejin stopped crying, Kim Hyunkyung smacked his back.
At her scolding, Sejin wiped at his reddened eyes and mumbled:
“Back then… I couldn’t pay the bill, so I could only receive calls. Then it got cut off…”
“…You should’ve told me.”
“…Sorry…”
It wasn’t a cheerful conversation by any means.
If anything, Cheon Sejoo wished he could plug his ears.
She’d told him to speak up, sure—but clearly, she hadn’t had the means to cover the phone bill either.
That look of internal agony on her face said it all.
He couldn’t even imagine how pathetic Kim Hyunkyung must feel right now.
Maybe he should’ve just waited outside.
Cheon Sejoo regretted choosing to sit in the kitchen as he pulled out his phone.
He scrolled through his messenger chats just to distract himself, but the voices in the next room still reached him clearly.
“Sejin… did you go back to the house at all?”
“After those people came… they took the deposit and left. I couldn’t even get inside. The landlord kicked me out—I couldn’t grab any of your stuff. I’m sorry…”
“What are you sorry for? All my things were cheap junk anyway. What matters is that you’re safe. You have no idea how scared I was—I begged the manager to call you, and when you didn’t answer…”
“I’m sorry…”
He’d acted like a rebellious, angsty high schooler until now—but in front of his mother, he was like a tame puppy.
After apologizing again, Sejin curled up and burrowed into her arms, rubbing his face into her shoulder like he wanted forgiveness.
Was eighteen always this young?
Cheon Sejoo found himself thinking so as he glanced over at them from across the room.