Chapter 29
by Gideon“Huh?”
The shopping bag Juhyeon had left in front of Taemo’s door was gone without a trace. The thought that Taemo had willingly accepted his gift made his voice raise on its own.
“Hyungnim! Are you up?”
The house was silent. Nothing had changed, except for the blanket Juhyeon had hastily thrown down in the early hours, now neatly folded and resting in a corner of the sofa.
“Still sleeping…?”
Juhyeon scratched his eyebrow and scanned the house. On the dining table, he saw the meal Taemo had prepared. Seeing it was a single serving, he figured Taemo had already left. This early in the morning? He tilted his head in confusion and pulled out a chair.
“I didn’t hear him cooking.”
A fried egg sat atop the fried rice, cooked with a rustic touch. Juhyeon’s eyes traced the ketchup, which had been drizzled over the dish like a careless signature.
Ever since he’d fallen ill, one meal a day had always been prepared by Taemo. Taemo must have really appreciated how Juhyeon had scraped the plate clean, deeply touched by the gesture. As if responding to the now-familiar scent of the meal, Juhyeon’s stomach let out a low growl.
Living together had taught him one thing: Lee Taemo was unexpectedly attentive. It wasn’t an obvious, meticulous kind of care, but rather a subtle warmth hidden beneath his brusque exterior. He’d thought they were only similar in age, but now he realized their personalities were just like Dongwoo’s. Maybe that was why he kept letting his guard down around him. Or maybe Taemo was just doing everything right to make him notice.
Don’t leave any leftovers.
Juhyeon toyed with the note left beside his plate, stifling a small smile. I would’ve eaten it all anyway, even without you telling me. He’d never been a picky eater, but he never left a single bite of the meals Taemo cooked for him.
He pulled out a chair and sat down. As he shoveled spoonfuls of fried rice into his mouth, his eyes kept drifting back to the note.
The handwriting was neat and mature—the kind of script he could never imitate, no matter how hard he tried.
“Hmph. His handwriting is way too nice for someone with such a temper,” he muttered.
Is he just good at everything he does with his hands?
He chewed the fried rice diligently, his fingertips tracing the table’s surface. He began to mimic Taemo’s script, his finger moving back and forth. When he reached the final stroke, he froze.
“…What am I doing?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them and picked up his spoon again.
Juhyeon had always craved affection and attention. Perhaps that was why she always read too much into these small gestures of care. She usually filled that void with her friends, but now, she was getting most of it from Lee Taemo. It was astonishing that she was finding solace in the very same hitman she’d once found so terrifying.
Ultimately, it wasn’t who was caring for her that mattered. The mere fact that she was receiving attention was what she truly needed.
So, I’m just using Lee Taemo right now, she told herself. I’m earning money, getting my basic needs met, and filling a void in my heart. This is a win-win situation.
She forced her racing heart to steady itself, clinging to that conclusion. She didn’t even realize she was still clutching the note, holding it carefully so it wouldn’t crumple, throughout the entire meal.
The time Juhyeon spent nibbling away at Taemo’s life grew longer and longer. It was an intrusion he had no way of stopping.
After finishing the cleanup, he had nothing left to do, so he headed to the karaoke bar. They hadn’t called him into work yet, but he still felt the need to earn his keep. Even after visiting several times, the entrance to the karaoke bar felt awkward and unfamiliar. He passed under the sign, thick with dust and rust. It seemed like a place no customer would ever find by accident.
For some reason, the chain usually wrapped around the door handle was gone today. Kang-i, who usually kept watch from the inside, shading his eyes with one hand, was nowhere to be seen. These weren’t the kind of people to leave the place open and unguarded like this. And since Juhyeon had shown up without warning, there was no way they’d be waiting for him.
Juhyeon tilted his head in confusion and pulled open the glass door.
“Seriously, this is not okay!”
The moment he stepped into the quiet hallway, a loud voice erupted from inside. It was Kang-i, his voice bordering on a sob. Is he on the phone? Or is he fighting with Lee Taemo? Juhyeon hesitated, unable to bring himself to enter the room.
“What the hell are you thinking? Huh?”
The voice grew more agitated. Then, a loud crash echoed as something was knocked to the floor. The sound was so violent it made Juhyeon flinch. The small window in the door was covered with a frosted film, making it impossible to see inside. As he bit his lip in indecision, another crash rang out.
“…”
This time, without a moment’s hesitation, Juhyeon reached for the door.
Creeak—
The door swung open, and the scene inside finally came into focus. Papers and a laptop lay scattered across the floor. Kang-i was panting, his chest heaving with rage. His eyes, already bloodshot as if he were on the verge of tears, welled up the moment they met Juhyeon’s.
Lee Taemo, by contrast, showed no sign of agitation. He didn’t even seem surprised by Juhyeon’s sudden appearance. He simply sat perched on the edge of the table, idly kicking at a stray piece of paper with the toe of his shoe.
The air was suffocatingly cold. Juhyeon was used to mediating fights, but for some reason, he found it impossible to even find the words to speak. Standing by the doorway, he finally snapped back to his senses and took a step inside.
The air deeper in the room was even thicker—stiflingly hot and damp.
“Um, are you okay? I don’t know what’s going on, but…”
“Hey, pack your bags.”
Kang-i cut Juhyeon off. He scrubbed his eyes harshly with the back of his hand and yelled, his voice still thick with tears.
“I said pack your bags!”
“…Why? What’s wrong?”
Juhyeon broke into a cold sweat, blindsided by the sudden outburst. He wanted to calm Kang-i down, but the man was already sobbing, his shoulders shaking violently. Juhyeon had never been good at comforting people who cried. He chewed his lip, unable to even reach out a hand.
It was obvious that Lee Taemo was the one who’d caused this mess. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so damn calm in a room this chaotic. Juhyeon glanced at Taemo, his expression silently pleading for him to do something, but Taemo just rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
One person was sobbing and gasping for breath, while the other was just lighting a cigarette. Juhyeon couldn’t even begin to fathom what had led to this mess. Caught in the middle, he could only wear a look of utter bewilderment.
“Are you insane? You actually followed this bastard here? Do you even know what kind of piece of shit he is? You just followed him blindly!”
Kang-i was now screaming, even pointing a finger at Taemo. His face was flushed crimson, and tears streamed down from his tightly shut eyes. For Juhyeon, the whole situation made absolutely no sense.
It’s been months since I started following Lee Taemo. Why is he only saying this now? And even if he were some terrible person I shouldn’t have followed, wouldn’t the karma fall on me anyway? Why is Kang-i crying and trying to drive me away?
“Calm down, please.”
“What’s the point of doing something like this!”
Kang-i screamed and tore the papers on the table to shreds. I couldn’t even see what was written on the scraps as they fluttered to the floor. I didn’t have time to care. All I could think about was calming Kang-i down, who was just screaming and crying.
“Get out! Huh? Is that what you want? Do you need money?”
Kang-i shoved Juhyeon aside as he tried to stop him and ran out of the room. There wasn’t even time to grab him. Just as I turned to follow the sound of his receding footsteps, Taemo grabbed Juhyeon’s wrist.
“Why are you here?”
The cigarette dangling from his lips trembled slightly with every word. His voice was flat, neither accusing nor scolding—completely out of place in this volatile situation.
“…What’s going on? Why is he like this? Do something!”
Even as Kang-i lowered his voice to a threatening murmur, Juhyeon refused to look at him. A suffocating sense of frustration washed over him. As he struggled to shake off the hand gripping his wrist, he heard footsteps approaching from the other direction.
“Sell this.”
Kang-i rushed over and shoved something into Juhyeon’s arms. The force of the impact sent Juhyeon stumbling, and he slowly lowered his gaze.
“…”
It was a plain shopping bag, filled to the brim with gold bars. Not just one or two, but so many they were impossible to count, and they were substantial in weight. Juhyeon couldn’t comprehend why Kang-i was suddenly thrusting gold bars upon him while barking at him to quit.
“If this isn’t enough, I’ll send more! Just take it and get out of here right now!”
“…What the hell is going on?”
“Just fucking go when I tell you to go, you idiot! Ah, seriously…”
Kang-i collapsed to the floor and began to sob uncontrollably. Juhyeon’s heart hammered against his ribs, a sudden surge of anxiety gripping him. He turned desperately to Taemo, but their eyes never met. His vision was blurred by the pale wisps of cigarette smoke drifting from Taemo’s lips.
“What is it? Someone just tell me what’s happening.”
“No. It’s over. You’re not staying.”
“There has to be a reason you’re suddenly kicking me out like this!”
The only sounds that filled the room were the slow, rhythmic puffs of Taemo’s smoke and Kang-i’s ragged sobs. The answers Juhyeon craved never came.
Juhyeon chewed her lip anxiously, her eyes darting around. What is going on? What is it? Why is Kang-i trying so hard to kick me out? And why is Taemo keeping quiet?
We’d been getting along just fine until now. Why the sudden change? No matter how much she racked her brain, she couldn’t figure out the reason.
Her gaze swept across the floor, littered with scattered scraps of paper, when a sudden thought struck her. She’d felt this kind of tension before.
“Excuse me…”
A memory of a minor incident from a few days ago flickered through her mind—the one that had ended with Taemo handing a watch to Seo Jinyoung. The mere recollection felt miserable, but it was a treatment Juhyeon had grown accustomed to.
“…Did something go missing?”
Did Kang-i hear that story too?
If he did, this whole situation made sense. He’d mentioned a former cleaner had stolen gold from him and run off. Now, I’d brought a team member with sticky fingers who’d apparently touched a customer’s belongings without being asked. And just like that, something went missing.
They were blaming Lee Taemo for bringing someone so untrustworthy onto the team. That had to be why they were trying to kick him out so relentlessly.
“If you didn’t misunderstand… there’s no reason for this…”
My fingertips tightened. The heavy shopping bag crinkled softly, the sound swallowed by the thunderous beat of my heart.
Had I just been misunderstood again?
We were finally starting to close the distance between us, finally beginning to feel comfortable around each other.
“What?”
Taemo, who had been silently smoking the whole time, raised an eyebrow. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and waved the smoke away with his large hand. Kang-i, who had been doing nothing but crying, snapped his head up.
“…I don’t know what you mean, but this is a misunderstanding. It wasn’t me. I don’t even know what’s here.”
The corners of my mouth twisted into a stiff, awkward smile. They were scary people who did dangerous things, but spending time with Taemo and Kang-i hadn’t been bad. Even though I’d always lived my life calculating every gain and loss, I hardly thought about such things when I was with them. Juhyeon, who had always been more lonely than he let on, found his solitary hours dwindling. The fact that he’d started coming here of his own accord, as if it were his own hideout, said it all.
…So I wanted to stay here longer than planned, but now I’m in a situation where I have no choice but to be kicked out.
“I always wrote down whatever I ate or drank in the ledger.”
Ah, Kang-i saw me opening the broken refrigerator while I was taking out the gift box yesterday, didn’t he? I tried to make up an excuse, but it must have seemed suspicious enough.
“Uh, the reason I was rummaging through the fridge yesterday was… because I hid a gift in there. It’s something you spray to help you sleep, but I forgot to buy one for Kang-i, so I just hid it there for a bit.”
I don’t know what he thinks I did, but I haven’t done anything wrong, and this is all a misunderstanding—the words never even made it past his lips. Perhaps it was because the room was so small, but his throat felt swollen and tight. Juhyeon’s voice trailed off as he nervously touched his own Adam’s apple.
Taemo, who had been staring intently, clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Fuck. What the hell are you saying?”
Taemo threw his half-finished cigarette to the floor in irritation. He then ground the butt into the ground with the sole of his sneaker. Standing fully upright, he gave the foot of the crouching, weeping Kang-i a sharp nudge.
“Hey, Kang-i. Stop this bullshit. You’re just making the kid want to crawl into a hole.”
“If you’re so worried about that, you should have just—”
“I think it’s all the same. He’s just like us.”
The conversation was incomprehensible. After snarling at Kang-i, Taemo grabbed Juhyeon’s wrist. Just as he turned to leave the room, a weak tug pulled at the hem of Juhyeon’s pants.
“Hey.”
When Juhyeon faltered to a stop, Taemo stopped with him. Juhyeon met the gaze of those wet eyes looking up at him. It was strange. There was no suspicion or contempt in the pupils he stared into. Instead, they held an emotion he couldn’t begin to fathom.
Only Kang-i could give him the answer. Kang-i’s lips parted as if he were about to say something, but in the end, the same question came out.
“…You’re going to quit, aren’t you?”
“…”
It was too late to back out now. And this wasn’t a decision Juhyeon could make on his own. He glanced sideways at Taemo, and the grip on his pant leg tightened.
“Stop looking at Lee Taemo!”
Kang-i’s sharp command made Juhyeon immediately drop his gaze. The two men’s stares pierced his cheeks. With his head bowed low, Juhyeon slowly closed and opened his eyes. He still couldn’t fully grasp the situation—why they were asking him this, how he’d ended up in this position. He knew absolutely nothing, but he understood that this was the moment he had to answer honestly.
“…I just want to stay here. At first, I was scared. But now, I want to stay even more. I know you do bad things, but I just want to get along.”
“…”
“I-I really do need the money, and a place to stay. I’ve staked everything on this, so I can’t even go back now…”
His rambling voice drifted softly through the room. He wasn’t even sure if he was saying the right thing. Maybe this was his last chance to escape, so why was he throwing it away? Had he grown too attached after living with them for a few months? Was he making a foolish decision, trying to fill his void of affection with Lee Taemo and leaning on Kang-i?
Even so, he wouldn’t regret his answer. Strangely, he felt certain. Juhyeon, who had been staring at the cluttered floor, slowly lifted his gaze to meet Kang-i’s eyes.
“If you don’t have a good reason to kick me out… can’t you just let me stay? I’ll work hard, really.”
That was the only thought filling Juhyeon’s mind. Kang-i’s lips moved soundlessly. A single tear traced a path down his cheek as his large eyes stared fixedly at Juhyeon. Quickly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Kang-i let out a sigh.
“Don’t trust Lee Taemo too much.”
“What?”
Kang-i suddenly shot to his feet and began to shove the two of them away with fierce strength. He looked to be about the same size as Juhyeon, yet Juhyeon couldn’t fathom where this sudden power came from. They were forced out of the room by his violent shoves.
“Don’t come back for a while. Go!”
Even so, Kang-i didn’t stop. He kept shoving them, shouting for them to get out. Juhyeon stumbled back, glancing at Taemo. What the hell is going on between them? he wondered. Taemo didn’t utter a single complaint.
The two of them were treated like complete intruders, pushed all the way out the glass door. It slammed shut immediately. Through the glass, they saw Kang-i’s face as he wrapped a chain around the handle, securing it tight.
“…”
Juhyeon couldn’t bring himself to walk away, lingering by the glass door. He felt Taemo tugging at his wrist, but his feet wouldn’t move. Their eyes met once more through the glass. Kang-i was still crying. After staring at Juhyeon for a long moment, Kang-i abruptly turned his back.
“He’s still crying.”
Juhyeon’s eyes darted around, searching for Kang’s retreating figure, before settling on Taemo. His sharp, fierce expression remained unchanged.
“Let’s go.”
“…”
“He’s always like this. He has these periodic meltdowns.”
Taemo shrugged and gave Juhyeon’s wrist a firm tug. Only then did Juhyeon’s feet, which had been glued to the spot in front of the closed door, finally move.
I’ve never seen Kang act like that before.
Even if he was clueless and dense, Juhyeon knew this wasn’t a situation he could just brush off.
“What’s wrong with you two? Why is Kang acting like that?”
“…”
The stairs were too narrow for them to walk side-by-side, so they ascended one behind the other. Taemo bounded up two or three steps at a time, while Juhyeon clung to the railing, scrambling up one step at a time to keep pace. Or rather, he was being dragged.
“Is he really acting like that because something’s missing? He keeps asking why I brought you here…”
Juhyeon’s words were slurred from her heavy breathing, but Taemo seemed to understand perfectly. He came to a dead stop at the top of the stairs, then spun around to face her.
“Why are you so sure it’s your fault?”
He reached out and rested his hand on her head, two steps below him. His large palm cupped her head with a steady, grounding weight. Juhyeon swallowed her ragged breath and dropped her gaze. Her toes were pointed directly toward him. Thump, thump. Her heart hammered heavily in her chest, perhaps from the weight of his hand.
“…The atmosphere just feels that way. Otherwise, there’d be no reason to kick me out so suddenly…”
“It’s my fault.”
He spoke plainly, withdrawing his hand without a trace of reluctance. Even after the heavy pressure that had been pinning her down vanished, Juhyeon couldn’t bring herself to lift her head.
“I used you, knowing full well what I was doing.”
“…”
He keeps saying the same thing over and over.
Knowing Lee Taemo’s personality, he wouldn’t say something like that just because he’d gotten her caught up in this mess. The price he was paying to “use” her was far too steep.
Juhyeon snapped her head up and climbed the rest of the stairs. Even then, their eyes still didn’t meet.
“What on earth are you talking about? Just say it clearly already.”
“Not yet. Not right now…”
Taemo trailed off, his dark eyes slowly scanning Juhyeon.
“Just a little longer.”
Then, he turned away before their eyes could meet again, leaving the building first.
He’s definitely hiding something. It seemed Kang-i had just found out too. Juhyeon had a feeling that if he learned the truth, things would change drastically.
But what’s there to hide between us when we’ve only known each other for a few months? Can you even call that a secret?
“…”
Anxiety bloomed amidst his questions. But Juhyeon ultimately swallowed his doubts. Even if he found out, there was nothing he could do—no matter how obviously it was Taemo’s fault.
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
His heart was heavy. Would it have been easier if he’d just openly doubted or criticized them, like his delinquent friends did? They were all pouring out their emotions—some weeping and wailing, others swearing never to see him again—while he was stuck in the middle, insisting he’d done nothing wrong. He didn’t know how much of any of it to believe.
After returning home, Taemo seemed lost in deep thought. He kept stepping away to smoke, only to return and sit on the sofa, arms crossed and eyes closed. Juhyeon felt too intimidated to even speak or make a sound.
“…”
Juhyeon chewed his lower lip. Whenever his stable life began to crumble, he was invariably plagued by anxiety. He feared everyone would turn their backs on him and leave him alone. The memories of that single-room apartment in the slums, where the door wouldn’t even lock properly, were rooted too deeply.
He knew he needed to change, but it was easier said than done. If he could have simply willed it, he wouldn’t have clung to friends who constantly suspected him of being a thief and stabbed him in the back when it mattered most.
Lee Taemo was no exception. Now that Kang-i had already screamed at him to disappear while tears streamed down his face, Taemo was all Juhyeon had left. If Taemo turned his back too, he felt like he truly wouldn’t be able to endure it.
“Um, Hyung…”
“Later.”
“…Okay.”
Juhyeon’s voice was barely a whisper as he fumbled, his anxiety spiking. A rejection like this only fueled his insecurity. Yet Taemo remained still, his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to Juhyeon’s face draining of all color. He, too, seemed overwhelmed by thoughts of Kang-i.
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