Chapter 44

It happened in the summer of his eighteenth year.

It felt like they had only just switched to their summer uniforms, yet the monsoon season had already arrived. Final exams were right around the corner, but Gi-hyeon found it exceptionally difficult to focus.

Every single year around this time, his body simply sank. It was entirely unavoidable. In previous years, his father would have immediately noticed Gi-hyeon’s lethargy and aggressively scolded him for being a weak-willed boy, and Gi-hyeon would have simply pretended everything was fine. But this year, his father was exceptionally busy, making it difficult to even see his face despite living in the same house.

Whenever that happened, Gi-hyeon made it a habit to hide every single liquor bottle in the house. His father always spoke harshly, but Gi-hyeon knew full well that left alone in the dead of night, his father drank heavily because he missed his mother so desperately.

In the past, his father would get blackout drunk and violently smash things around the house. So as Gi-hyeon grew a little older, he simply started hiding the bottles entirely. Fortunately, it didn’t seem to have progressed to actual addiction, as his father never said a word about it despite clearly knowing Gi-hyeon was hiding the alcohol.

It was an exhausting season.

To Gi-hyeon, this season was exactly that.

Once the monsoon passed and the peak of summer arrived, the anniversary of his mother’s death would draw agonizingly close. His heart sinking was simply an unavoidable reality.

Because of that, Gi-hyeon planned on skipping the mandatory night study session again today. To get into the Military Academy, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down for a second, but he lied to himself, deciding that skipping a day or two would be fine.

Regardless of the reason, the sensation of growing weak was something Gi-hyeon fundamentally despised. He desperately wanted to just shake it off and stand back up, but the moment the monsoon season began, he frequently found himself spacing out.

He hated meeting people, and he hated opening his mouth even more.

“Hey, Sogi. Let’s skip the cafeteria dinner and order Chinese instead.”

“I’m not eating.”

“Ah, this bastard is bailing again. When was the last time you actually listened to your hyung obediently?”

Normally, Gi-hyeon would have scoffed and retorted, ‘Who the hell is my hyung?’ but when he simply clamped his mouth shut, Yoo-min, sitting in the desk right in front of him, clicked his tongue. He even started whining.

“When you rejected me last time I asked you to go to the PC bang, you promised we’d go next time. I’ll forgive you for that, so just eat with me, come on.”

“He said he doesn’t want to, friend.”

Gi-hyeon was just about to tell him no again, but someone entirely unexpected spoke on his behalf. It was a painfully familiar voice. Gi-hyeon didn’t even bother looking up, simply continuing to pack his bag.

A massive hand suddenly clamped down on Yoo-min’s shoulder and violently spun him around. Unable to even utter a sound of protest, Yoo-min was forcibly turned away from Gi-hyeon. It was entirely Jo Yeon-oh’s doing.

Yoo-min, who had been obnoxiously loud just seconds ago, went dead silent the moment Jo Yeon-oh appeared, grabbed his shoulder, and shoved him aside. Clearly intimidated by Jo Yeon-oh, he only threw nervous glances at the bastard, lacking the courage to argue or even speak to him. Remaining exactly in the position Yeon-oh had shoved him into, he simply kept his mouth shut.

Taking over for the silenced Yoo-min, Jo Yeon-oh asked.

“Are you leaving now?”

“Yeah.”

Gi-hyeon answered simply. Just as he was about to stand up from his desk, a hand suddenly shot forward and slid smoothly into the pocket of Gi-hyeon’s uniform pants.

“What the hell are you doing.”

“Your earphones were sticking out, so I was just shoving them back in. What’s wrong, baby? Did you actually feel that?”

Leaning half his weight against Gi-hyeon’s desk with his palms flat against the wood, Jo Yeon-oh bent over slightly, flashing a sickeningly bright, teasing grin. Gi-hyeon had thought he had rolled them up perfectly and shoved them in, but it seemed the wire had managed to poke out. Even so, the bastard crossing the line of acceptable physical contact between friends was profoundly repulsive. Judging by the smug smirk plastered across his face, it was obvious he was actively trying to provoke Gi-hyeon into getting annoyed.

Normally, Gi-hyeon would have violently kicked the crazy bastard’s shin with his slipper-clad foot, muttering that only a crazy bastard does crazy things, but today he simply kept his mouth shut. Shrugging his shoulders, Yeon-oh unnecessarily slapped Yoo-min’s back hard a few times and laughed.

“Ah, this bastard. He’s so prickly today. Right, Yoo-cheol?”

“…Uh, that’s actually not my name…”

“Really? It suits you though. You should legally change it, Yoo-cheol.”

With that, he abruptly turned his back on the stuttering boy and faced Gi-hyeon, who had already stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Immediately reaching out to grab Gi-hyeon’s shoulder, Gi-hyeon casually swatted the hand away and walked out of the classroom first.

From behind, he could hear the unmistakable sound of the bastard slowly trailing after him. Staring at Gi-hyeon’s back, Jo Yeon-oh asked.

“Why does that bastard sitting in front of you call you Sogi?”

“I don’t know.”

Despite the incredibly half-assed, apathetic response, Jo Yeon-oh merely clicked his tongue.

“That’s exactly why I told you to coordinate our elective subjects together. Now we’re in different classes, you idiot.”

Unable to comprehend why the bastard was suddenly throwing a tantrum, Gi-hyeon kept his mouth shut. When Gi-hyeon refused to reply, Yeon-oh closed the distance in two long strides with his massive legs, leaned his head entirely into Gi-hyeon’s personal space, and asked.

“What are you going to do when you get home.”

He didn’t really have any specific plans. He figured he might space out for a bit and then sleep if he got tired, but he didn’t bother answering. Once again, Jo Yeon-oh didn’t press his silent companion, stubbornly following Gi-hyeon all the way to the school gates before finally speaking.

“I’ll come over later, so let’s boil some ramen.”

Gi-hyeon didn’t even bother nodding. They weren’t even high school seniors yet, so why was the bastard—whose family sent a chauffeur-driven car to pick up their precious ‘student’—insisting on coming all the way to Gi-hyeon’s house? A low sigh slipped out.

“Hey, see you later.”

Shouting the promise as if solidifying a vow, the bastard marched out the school gates. Without looking back, Gi-hyeon headed for the bus stop. Thankfully, the bus arrived quickly.

His head was spinning slightly, and he desperately wanted to sit, but seeing an older woman standing in front of him, he offered his seat. He politely but firmly declined her offer to hold his heavy backpack in return.

When he finally arrived home, the living room was empty and steeped in silence. It was a relief. If he had run into his father, the man would have relentlessly interrogated him about why he skipped the night study session. Completely oblivious to the fact that having no specific reason was exactly the problem.

When his mother first started getting severely ill, she always told Gi-hyeon that they were just going to be separated for a little while. There was only one reason she constantly promised they would reunite once enough time had passed: her only son was simply too young for her to leave behind and die.

As Gi-hyeon grew a year or two older, he finally began to understand his mother’s heart. Because of that, he promised himself that even in moments like this, he shouldn’t force himself to be sad, because they would reunite someday anyway. Still, when the monsoon season arrived, the overwhelming depression was simply unavoidable.

It wasn’t because he was recalling her funeral, but because the season in which his mother slowly died was, cruelly, the season of lush greenery where all other life vigorously thrived. While countless living things radiated vibrant energy, the single most important life to So Gi-hyeon was slowly extinguishing—that agonizing paradox was the root of his depression.

Whether he was out kicking a soccer ball or reading a comic book borrowed from the library, whenever he sprinted back to her hospital room, his mother always pretended she wasn’t in pain.

—Mommy hurts, Gi-hyeon-ah. Blow on it for me. If Gi-hyeon blows on it, I’ll be all better.

Whenever Gi-hyeon fulfilled her request, she would smile brightly, acting as if the pain had completely vanished. It was a common occurrence. But during that specific season, his mother truly acted like a person entirely free of illness.

How to put on his own socks, how to reconcile with a friend after a fight, how to peel fruit, the recipe for her absolute best dish, how not to be disappointed even if Santa didn’t visit this Christmas. She taught Gi-hyeon so many things.

And then, on a midsummer afternoon just as the monsoon season ended, she held Gi-hyeon’s hand, promised they would meet again, and passed away. So he desperately tried to convince himself that he was only struggling during this season because he was busy reviewing everything his mother had taught him.

After arriving home and taking a shower, he was greeted by a mild fever. Figuring his condition had been garbage since morning and it was simply unavoidable, he collapsed into bed and slept like the dead.

When he finally woke up parched with thirst, the gloomy sky had completely transitioned into the pitch black of night. Blinking blearily into the darkness, he stared at his glowing phone screen. He had unread messages.

<Dick-oh>

—“Got your porridge. Bought medicine, too.” 9:37 PM

—“I said I brought the porridge, so open the dooooor.” 9:37 PM

—“Leaving your big bro on read again. Chewing up my words so thoroughly, they must be real easy to swallow. Keep chewing until they’re fucking mush.” 9:38 PM

—“30 seconds before I hop the wall.” 9:39 PM

“…”

Gi-hyeon stared quietly at the messages in the dark before tossing the phone back onto the bed and stepping out into the living room. Unsurprisingly, the living room was completely empty and silent.

The single-story, detached house with a small yard was one of the inheritances his mother had left him. Born into a wealthy family, his mother had forfeited her right to inherit tens of billions of won in assets because she chose a marriage her family fiercely opposed. Instead, she had to settle for a few houses in Seoul and several villas in the Gyeonggi province before completely severing ties with her family.

To call their financial situation destitute would be an absolute lie; Gi-hyeon had grown up relatively comfortably. The house Gi-hyeon currently lived in was exactly that—a detached house with a small yard, sitting squarely in the middle of Seoul.

The alleyway, populated by households of similar standing, was perpetually quiet and secluded. The neighbors were primarily retired professors or elderly executives from major conglomerates, meaning there was never any loud commotion, even during the holidays. Because of that, Gi-hyeon simply couldn’t believe the bastard was actually standing outside in the dead quiet of the night, exactly like any other day.

Letting out a soft sigh, he stepped out the front door and crossed the yard. The streetlamps in the alley outside the wall were already lit.

“…”

He could see a shadow cast against the dense iron bars of the main gate. Someone was sitting directly in front of it. Staring at the gate, where the bastard’s silhouette was stamped as black as a paper cutout, Gi-hyeon paused in his tracks.

Then, he suddenly caught the sound of speaking.

“Then what am I supposed to do, the kid is sick.”

Along with his voice came a rustling sound. It was loud, as if he were trying to pull something out of a plastic bag. The bastard’s hand appeared through the gap at the bottom of the gate. Gi-hyeon watched him carelessly toss his phone onto the ground. He must have found it annoying to untie the bag with only one hand.

Despite the growing popularity of smartphones, Jo Yeon-oh still used the exact same model as Gi-hyeon. The flip phone was an older model, rarely used by anyone these days. Gi-hyeon’s was in such bad shape that the battery cover was loose, requiring him to hold it together with scotch tape.

While Yeon-oh’s wasn’t quite that bad, it certainly wasn’t pristine. Perhaps it was just showing its age from years of use. As Yeon-oh pulled the phone away from his ear, Gi-hyeon could faintly hear the voice of the person on the other end leaking through the receiver.

[…So who is more important to you right now. Me, or So Gi-hyeon.]