“Yugeon, you’re here? Ah, Suho came too.”
Lee Minha greeted them with a familiar smile. Whether she was about to head out or had just come back was unclear, but she was dressed for an outing.
“Where are you going?”
Min Yugeon asked with a puzzled look. Lee Minha nodded.
“I have an appointment, so I need to step out now. I’ll be back by dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Suho, do you want to have dinner with us later?”
“I was planning to head back before then.”
“All right, then.”
“Take care.”
After seeing Lee Minha off, Suho headed to Yugeon’s room with him.
Inside, a completed model spaceship sat neatly on display. It wasn’t like when they were kids, when the room had been filled wall to wall with building blocks. Now that Yugeon was old enough to understand the intricacies of making things, various machines and devices he had assembled as a hobby were arranged along the shelves.
Suho was examining a small handheld gaming console that Yugeon had recently started experimenting with.
“If I had a watch, I’d be making faster progress.”
Min Yugeon sighed from where he had flopped onto his chair.
The watches given to adult citizens were multi-functional devices. Their most notable features included information search—what Min Yugeon currently wanted—real-time notifications about onboard news, economic activity, and communication with others.
Essentially, it was a high-tech ID.
Each watch contained the wearer’s unique code and personal data, making it indispensable to everyday life. People wore them as naturally as part of their own body.
“You’ll get one soon.”
Suho replied while fiddling with the game console. Since the watches were distributed after graduation, it wouldn’t be long for them either.
“And honestly, I’m amazed you managed to build all this without one.”
He gestured with his chin toward the shelves. There were other ways to gather the necessary information, sure—but none were as convenient as a watch, which allowed for instant searches anytime, anywhere. It was truly impressive how Yugeon had asked around and figured things out on his own to make those devices.
Min Yugeon straightened up, eyes gleaming as he looked at Suho.
“That was praise, right? Say more.”
“……”
The sight of this large guy speaking in a thick voice while trying to act cute was downright deadly. Suho side-stepped away from the desk, trying to escape Yugeon. Not that it helped—his sleeve was caught, so he couldn’t get far.
Time flew as they chatted—whether it was humoring Yugeon’s harmless teasing or talking about life after graduation. At some point, Suho had snacked on the treats Yugeon brought and stepped out to wash his hands.
It was when he returned to Yugeon’s room.
“Why the hell isn’t your application here, huh?!”
“……?”
A sudden shout from inside the room made Suho freeze. That voice—Min Sanghan’s. Had he come home already?
Suho cautiously approached the door. It was wide open, exposing the scene inside.
“You’re really so eager to make life hard for yourself? All you have to do is walk the path I’ve laid out for you, and you won’t even do that?!”
Min Sanghan stood face to face with Min Yugeon, his voice full of frustration. But Yugeon, too, seemed equally fed up, his gaze cool and unwavering.
“Yeah, I’d like to know that too. Why should I?”
“What?”
“Why should I live doing something I don’t give a damn about?”
“…Hah.”
His tone and expression reeked of someone who had been pushed to the limit. Min Sanghan gaped in disbelief.
“You little punk, how dare you talk to your father like—”
“Are you me? Are you gonna live my life for me?”
“……!”
“This obsession with control—it’s a sickness. I decide how I live my life.”
Yugeon’s cold, cynical words made Min Sanghan’s already flushed face turn an even deeper red. Judging by his reaction, he had never been spoken to so bluntly before. Which only meant Yugeon had been holding all this in for a very long time.
“Min Yugeon!”
Min Sanghan bellowed, shaking with fury as he clenched his fists.
…They clearly had no idea Suho was even in the house. A flash of hesitation crossed his mind—should he make his presence known now or not?
Min Sanghan stormed over to Yugeon’s desk. Then, with a sweeping motion of his arm, he knocked everything off the surface. The items crashed into the floor and walls with a loud clatter, breaking into a mess.
The spaceship model was no exception.
“…What are you doing?”
Yugeon’s voice dropped low. His gaze remained fixed on the shattered pieces of the once-complete model.
“Ungrateful brat. Can’t even see this is all for your own good.”
Min Sanghan muttered under his breath, seething.
“If I’d known you’d grow up to be such a defiant brat… I never should’ve raised someone like you in the first place.”
A dry scoff escaped Min Yugeon’s lips at his father’s words. As he turned his head to look his father dead in the eyes, a deep fury clouded his expression.
It was clear the situation had escalated, but what Min Sanghan had just said was something that should never have been uttered—even by mistake. I pressed my lips tightly together, then raised my hand before things went even further. I rapped firmly on the open door.
“Ahjussi.”
Startled, Min Sanghan whipped his head around.
“S-Suho?”
“Hello.”
The moment he recognized me, shame and dismay flooded his face. That look—as though someone had just seen a part of him he desperately wanted hidden—I’d seen it before, even when I was a child.
“……”
“……”
A painfully heavy silence followed. Min Sanghan glanced sideways at Min Yugeon, who was staring blankly at the floor with no expression, then forced himself to speak, pretending nothing had happened.
“Ah… so you were here.”
“Yes.”
“I just dropped by for a moment, but I should be heading out again.”
It was obvious he was desperate to get out of there. I simply gave a slight bow in response.
Just as he passed by me, taking a measured breath, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Ah. I saw your application, Suho.”
“Ah.”
“You filled it out perfectly. Not a single flaw.”
So the rumor about him being the next head of the lab was true—he must’ve been reviewing student applications. That would explain how he knew Min Yugeon hadn’t submitted one. But the fact that he dropped everything and rushed over in such a rage the moment he found out… that part was hard to understand.
“You’ll hear good news soon.”
He gave my shoulder a light squeeze before releasing it, then forced a smile by sheer will before striding out of the room. After watching his retreating figure vanish down the hall, I turned my eyes toward Min Yugeon.
He was still staring at the shattered model spaceship like he’d turned to stone.
“Min Yugeon.”
“……”
Yugeon didn’t respond, his head hanging low.
…Maybe he felt ashamed, too, like Min Sanghan. Maybe he didn’t want me to see him like this.
Even if that were true, I had no intention of pretending I hadn’t seen him now. Carefully stepping around the scattered debris on the floor, I walked toward him. Even as I stopped right in front of him, he didn’t lift his head.
“Yugeon.”
I reached out and gently cupped both his cheeks in my hands. His face tilted upward without resistance. There were no tears in those eyes beneath his long lashes, but the absence of his usual smile cast a long shadow across his features.
A long silence passed before Min Yugeon finally spoke.
“Was that really necessary?”
“……”
“Breaking everything like that—was that really the answer?”
His voice was quiet and steady, yet laced with emptiness. Like someone who had been so angry they’d burned themselves out.
Suddenly, Yugeon grasped my wrists and pulled my hands down, then leaned forward and buried his face into my shoulder. I wrapped both arms around him and returned the embrace.
“So if you’re not an obedient son, you’re not a son at all. That’s what he’s saying.”
His weary breath brushed against me. The pain he felt seemed to radiate outward, echoing in my own chest.
Moments later, he mumbled softly.
“…But, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“I was kind of harsh first, right? Saying he had some kind of control obsession or whatever.”
At the bitter self-blame in his voice, I gently patted his back. Too kind for his own good.
“You said what needed to be said.”
“I just said what I wanted to.”
“Both, really.”
Knowing Min Sanghan, even if Yugeon had tried to talk rationally from the beginning, it likely still would’ve ended in a blow-up.
I turned my gaze to the floor. The shattered remains scattered at our feet felt pitiful. Every piece had been shaped with care, built by loving hands, only to be destroyed in a fit of rage.
“Let’s fix what we can.”
When I said it, out of nowhere, Yugeon lifted his head. He followed my gaze to the mess below, then looked back up at me and blinked.
“This?”
“Just a little each day. As much as we can manage.”
I had only ever watched him build things out of blocks when we were kids—I wouldn’t be of much use.
“You’ve never even assembled one before…”
Yugeon let out a soft laugh, his expression finally beginning to relax.
“Suho.”
“What.”
“I felt embarrassed, like I shouldn’t have called you in. It was humiliating.”
He ducked his head again, resting his forehead lightly on my shoulder, as if trying to hide his flustered expression.
“But I take it back.”
“…Take what back?”
“I like being with you.”
The quiet words sent a small tremor through my chest. I could feel the slight tightening of his arms wrapped around me.
“Thanks.”
Such a simple phrase. I just reached up and gently ruffled the back of his head.
