“Hey, check this out.”
He tapped the photo of the cat wheel with his finger.
“Do you have any idea how much this thing costs? It’s worth over a million won.”
“What? A million won?!”
Go Hoon raised his voice, startled. He grabbed the phone and brought it right up to his eyes.
“…Are you out of your mind?”
Was it really that expensive? If he’d known, he would’ve used it more. All he ever did was nap in it a few times. The shock of it slammed into him like a hammer. He couldn’t get over the absurdity of something costing a million won, and Jo Seong-il wasn’t done with his exposé.
“And this one’s 1.63 million.”
“…That one blanket?”
“Yup. It’s from Gu**ci.”
Even the microfiber blanket that had been laid down inside the cat house was a designer brand. What the hell was wrong with Bae Jung-yoon? Just how serious was he about his cat? Why did he spend so much money? Did he just have money pouring out of every hole?
…Well, yeah. It did seem like money was overflowing. From his place, to his clothes, to his car. Everything about Bae Jung-yoon screamed luxury. Just like people said, the guy didn’t seem to lack a single thing.
“But did you know this?”
Jo Seong-il lowered his voice and whispered, hand raised like a blade for dramatic effect.
“That scar on his forehead—there’s talk it came from the cat.”
Go Hoon flinched. Then his eyes narrowed, and he shifted away from Seong-il, who was sitting too close.
“How the hell do you know all this?”
What, is this guy a damn stalker? He gave him a look packed with implication. Seong-il just shrugged casually.
“Everyone’s talking about it. Dude was even hospitalized for a few days ‘cause of it. He keeps denying it, but they say the day he got that head injury is the same day the cat disappeared.”
So that meant… even though he probably had some idea about the cause, he still went ahead and asked about the scar on Jung-yoon’s forehead on purpose. It didn’t seem like Seong-il had any grudge against Bae Jung-yoon—he was probably just half curious, half concerned. The bandage on his forehead was eye-catching, after all.
Still, every tiny thing turning into gossip—just like with celebrities. Bae Jung-yoon really lived a tiresome life. Did he even realize people were spreading stories about him like this behind his back?
Another thought, though, took on a slightly different tone.
If even the smallest stuff got out this easily, it was impressive that Bae Jung-yoon had managed to keep his sexual orientation a secret. How many people around him actually knew he was into guys?
After a moment of silence, Hoon shook off his thoughts and replied in an indifferent tone.
“Isn’t that a bit of a reach?”
“Yeah, I don’t know the details, but I figure it happened while chasing after his runaway cat or something.”
With a pretty solid guess, Seong-il shrugged again. It was a light throwaway comment, but it only deepened Go Hoon’s unease.
How long was Bae Jung-yoon planning to keep looking for him? And how much did he remember about that day?
From Jung-yoon’s perspective, that day must be full of confusion. One moment he passes out, wakes up in the hospital—and the cat he raised has completely vanished.
Maybe he even thinks someone broke into his house. …Wait, what if the police are investigating? If that’s the case, maybe he should come clean before they find him first.
What kind of reaction would Bae Jung-yoon have if he found out Kkongddeok-i was actually him? Would he come after him and try to bust his skull open in revenge?
It felt like a very real possibility. After all, it was his fault Jung-yoon got that forehead injury. And even if it didn’t show on the outside, he’d cracked his skull too. There was more than enough reason for resentment. If it were him, he’d probably be burning with vengeance by now.
A buried memory suddenly resurfaced—Bae Jung-yoon beating Choi Joo-won to a pulp. That image was still vivid in his mind.
Go Hoon let out a quiet sigh. The deeper the thoughts went, the more his head started to ache, so he pressed a hand to his forehead.
“…Kkongddeok-i?”
At the same time, Bae Jung-yoon’s murmuring voice echoed in his mind. He’d tried to brush it off, thinking no way, but the longer time passed, the clearer that voice seemed to get.
Did Bae Jung-yoon really call him “Kkongddeok-i” while looking at him? If he really did—why? Could he have figured it out? That he was Kkongddeok-i?
No. That didn’t make sense. How could that even be possible? Kkongddeok-i was a cat. Who in their right mind would connect a human to a cat? There was no way Bae Jung-yoon could’ve looked at him and thought of the cat he used to raise. Logically, it was impossible.
So there’s no way that was it. It had to be his own imagination, an overblown assumption. It’s not like Bae Jung-yoon ever brought up Kkongddeok-i again after that.
“Haa….”
“What the hell. Why’re you sighing so deep? You worried about the cat too?”
When he sighed again, Seong-il gave him a confused look like what’s this guy’s deal? Go Hoon dropped his gaze to the phone screen. The cat, with its lush fur and piercing blue eyes, was staring straight at him.
“It’s nothing.”
‘Like I’d ever tell you.’ Shaking his head, Hoon handed the phone back to Seong-il. The guy gave him a puzzled look, then let out a sigh of realization, like he’d finally pieced something together.
“Oh, right. Go Hoon. Be careful.”
“Why?”
Be careful? At the sudden warning, Hoon raised an eyebrow. Jo Seong-il glanced around cautiously, then leaned in and whispered.
“You know… Park Ki-cheol.”
An unwelcome name dropped out of nowhere. Naturally, deep furrows formed between Go Hoon’s brows.
“What about that sunbae?”
“Park sunbae hasn’t graduated yet.”
“Still?”
“Yeah. I didn’t tell you on purpose, but after that fight you two had a couple years ago, he took a leave of absence too. Then he came back last year—and when he did, the whole department went into emergency alert mode.”
As he listened to Seong-il’s hushed voice, Hoon pressed his eyelids shut. Just great—another layer on an already messy cake. Bae Jung-yoon was trouble enough, and now Park Ki-cheol too? He’d hoped that bastard’s bulldog face would be out of sight after the military, but no—he was truly like a lingering stench.
“Anyway, try not to cross paths with Park Ki-cheol if you can help it.”
‘As if that’s up to me.’ Go Hoon scratched his brow with a disinterested face.
“If we run into each other, we run into each other. What do I have to be careful about?”
“I’m just saying—try to avoid the places he usually goes. If you do run into him, give him a bit of the ol’ sunbae respect, then ignore him just enough to keep it even. Hoon, you don’t avoid shit because you’re scared of it. You avoid it ‘cause it’s filthy.”
Jo Seong-il grinned and gave Hoon’s shoulder a firm squeeze. That gesture carried a clear meaning—What good would come from stirring things up with trash like that?
Go Hoon rested his chin on his palm and sighed. He didn’t want anything to do with that guy. Not even a nod of recognition. But life rarely goes the way you want.
***
“Okay, since it’s the first day of the semester, we’ll end early. Good work, everyone.”
“Thank you.”
As expected, the lecture ended with a simple orientation-style introduction. That left him with some free time.
If he didn’t have another class later, he would’ve gone straight back to his studio apartment. But there was still one more class at 2 PM. He briefly considered going home to take a nap, but even though the place wasn’t far, the back-and-forth felt like a chore. He decided to kill time at the school library instead.
For lunch, he grabbed a basic student meal. It had been a while, but to no one’s surprise, it still tasted awful. About the same as army food. At this point, he was pretty sure the school was embezzling their tuition fees somewhere.
Go Hoon bit down on his chopsticks and stared at his phone.
Loan interest, living expenses, rent, utilities, insurance, savings, and then all the other random bills. Just thinking about all those money drains, it was clear—his factory wages weren’t going to cut it. More accurately, the three-month forced hiatus from part-time work was catching up fast.
Was there some kind of part-time gig he could do here and there, when he had pockets of free time like this? His thoughts drifted again.
Back when he was living at Bae Jung-yoon’s place, none of this had been a concern. People really were shameless—constantly comparing the comfort of yesterday with the tight squeeze of today, even when they knew damn well there was no going back.
Snapping back to reality, Go Hoon shoved the thoughts aside and focused on finishing his meal. He quietly chewed through the tasteless side dishes, cleaned off his tray, and left the cafeteria.
As he walked through campus, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. His sore muscles got a good pull, and he looked up at the sky.
“Disgustingly nice weather.”
Squinting at the spotless blue sky, he clicked his tongue and kept moving.
The sun was warm, his stomach was full, and now a wave of drowsiness washed over him. He briefly considered grabbing a can of vending machine coffee to make up for the one he missed that morning, but decided to save the money and headed toward his department building instead.
He arrived early to the lecture hall and set an alarm. The hectic pace of the morning was finally catching up to him. Since he’d be working at the factory that night, it made sense to get some rest while he had the chance.
The classroom was still a bit chilly, maybe because the heater had just been turned on. Go Hoon draped his jacket over his shoulders and used the hard desk as a makeshift pillow. The moment he closed his eyes, sleep pulled him under fast.
Beep-beep-beep—
He had drifted off for quite a while when his alarm finally went off. Hoon flinched and groggily lifted his head.
He gave himself a dry face-wash and shook off the sleep. Looking around, he noticed a few more students had entered and taken seats. Still, there wasn’t a single familiar face yet.
About ten more minutes passed. With class time closing in, the room began to fill up in waves.
“Is anyone sitting here?”
Go Hoon, who’d been idly scrolling through his phone without really looking at anything, raised his head without thinking.
Someone he wasn’t particularly happy to see was looking down at him.
Bae Jung-yoon.
He had half-expected that they might share at least one class, but he hadn’t thought it would happen this soon—or this directly.
