“Who?”
“That guy.”
“Why the hell is he coming here? He has to know you’re with me.”
Ever since they finished their meal and got up to pay, Yoon Seong-gon hadn’t stopped going on about cafés—café this, café that—so there was no way Bae Jung-yoon hadn’t heard the conversation. On top of that, they’d made eye contact and exchanged a nod as they passed by his table.
Go Hoon didn’t think he was the type to butt into a social gathering uninvited. Even if he were, it wasn’t like Bae Jung-yoon had any reason to come looking for him right now.
Probably something quick about the group project. Nothing major. With that indifferent thought, Go Hoon shoved his phone back into his pocket.
The phone stayed silent after that. Thoughts of Bae Jung-yoon gradually faded from his mind, and Go Hoon got busy exercising his post-military privilege—by messing with Seong-gon. Meaning, he kept teasing him with questions like “So, when are you planning to serve?”
He started with the classic line about getting it over with while you’re young, then moved on to stories of beefy guys playing soccer like it was life or death just to score some bonus leave days. Seong-gon visibly recoiled at the imagery, which only made Hoon enjoy himself even more than usual.
As the conversation flowed from topic to topic, Seong-gon suddenly dropped a question.
“But seriously, why are you picking up a delivery gig out of nowhere? Didn’t you say you already work at a factory?”
“That’s my night job.”
Go Hoon cut into his tiramisu cake and shoved a piece into his mouth. The cloying sweetness made him grimace as he continued.
“Figured I’d try doing delivery during the day. Just feels like a waste to sit around doing nothing.”
“Come on, if you’ve got free time, just chill a bit. You barely sleep as it is with the night shifts, don’t you?”
“Even sleep feels like a waste.”
When Go Hoon replied curtly, Yoon Seong-gon let out a sigh.
“If you’re that desperate for money, should I, like, bring it up casually to my dad or something?”
“Don’t. Don’t even bring that shit up, you punk. It’s not even your money.”
“Still, if you’re working yourself to the bone, it’s okay to accept a little help.”
“It’s not like I’m so broke I have to go begging. I just wanna grind while I’m young and still can.”
Like most people, Hoon didn’t see barely scraping by as the goal in life. He wanted to earn enough to live decently—no, maybe even a bit lavishly.
A person should experience living in a home they actually own at least once in their life, right? And if possible, drive a fancy imported car like Bae Jung-yoon.
If he ended up in a relationship later, it’d be smart to save up for dates in advance. And when he eventually reached his thirties and started a family, he wanted to be the kind of man who provided everything his kids needed. That desire was probably universal among men.
In truth, marriage wasn’t a must for Hoon. Whether he spent his life solo or with someone by his side, he wanted to enjoy a comfortable life in his later years with the money he earned while young. Spending an entire life just working until death? That sounded so pathetic.
Especially nowadays with everyone talking about the “100-year life” and all, and rumors flying around that future generations might not even get to claim a pension—it felt almost inevitable. Just thinking about the harsh years ahead made his skin crawl. If nothing else, he wanted to clutch his money tightly enough to buy himself some guaranteed happiness later.
While he was still caught up in those lofty daydreams, Yoon Seong-gon poured cold water all over it.
“Man, that’s such outdated thinking. People wreck their health like that these days. You should be earning with your health in mind. If you’re just chasing money, you might not even get to enjoy any of it before you keel over.”
Hoon’s eyes immediately narrowed.
“You little shit, you never know when to shut the hell up. You trying to jinx me or something? It’s my damn life. I’ll handle it. You’re not gonna be the one to pick up the pieces, so spare me the backtalk.”
Seeing how firmly Go Hoon shut it down, Seong-gon clucked his tongue.
“Damn, I try to show a little concern and you throw a fit…”
He slurped up the rest of his drink.
“Then why not try tutoring or something? With your specs, you could probably make good money off each gig.”
Tutoring. Of course, he’d tried that route too.
If you’re dumb, your body suffers. Hoon knew that well enough. Naturally, he’d once thought about using his brain instead of his back and even gave it a shot. But the results were a total disaster.
“Tried it a few times. Didn’t suit me. I’m not cut out for teaching.”
“But you’re a Hankuk University student.”
“So? Just because someone’s good at studying doesn’t mean they’re good at teaching. That kind of talent has nothing to do with grades.”
“Still, how bad could you possibly be?”
“Fucking awful.”
Go Hoon answered without hesitation. Even he had to admit he was definitely not built to teach anyone. Explaining something you knew to someone else and getting them to understand it—way harder than it sounded.
“One of the students who used to do well actually dropped in grades after learning from me.”
“…How is that even possible?”
Yoon Seong-gon looked at him like he’d just discovered a rare species. Then, cautiously, he floated a suspicion.
“Wait… You’re not faking your academic record or anything, right?”
“You wanna die?”
When Go Hoon replied with a cold tone, Yoon Seong-gon laughed awkwardly and quickly apologized.
“Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”
After that, Seong-gon quietly ate his cake for a while. Chewing thoughtfully, his expression distant, he suddenly cleared his throat.
“Wait… was the student you tutored a girl?”
So that’s what he’d been mulling over this whole time.
“Yeah. Why?”
Go Hoon nodded and took a sip of his drink. Seong-gon gave a look like everything suddenly made sense.
“Then yeah, that one’s on you.”
A vein twitched on Hoon’s forehead. Did this idiot think he didn’t know he messed up?
“Yeah, it was my fault. I sucked at teaching.”
Because of that mess, Go Hoon had to return the entire payment he’d received for the tutoring sessions. The student’s parents had filed a strong complaint, demanding to know how her grades had dropped that much.
“No, I mean… that’s not what I meant—”
Seong-gon started to say something, then seemed to think better of it and switched tracks.
“Then try teaching boys instead.”
“I already did. But the kid said I was too scary and couldn’t concentrate in class. He told his parents while crying, and I got fired before the first month was even over.”
That second student had absolutely no aptitude for studying. At first, Hoon had tried to be gentle with him. But when the same mistake happened not once, not twice, but three or four times, his patience inevitably began to wear thin.
Even so, Go Hoon did his best to hold back. Curse words rose up to his throat more than once, but he kept them down, afraid of hurting the student’s feelings.
All he did was explain things over and over again until the kid finally understood. Okay—maybe his voice had a bit of an edge to it.
He was aware of how blunt he came off, but he had no idea how others actually perceived him until the student’s mother delivered the verdict: “My child says you’re too intimidating.”
That had been… oddly eye-opening.
After that second tutoring attempt went south, Go Hoon concluded once and for all—teaching just wasn’t for him.
The more he strained his brain, the worse his mental health got. Honestly, juggling college, recruiting students, preparing tailored lesson plans… none of it was easy.
So, in the end, he decided it’d be better to just stick to physical labor. After that, he didn’t even entertain the thought of making money through tutoring again.
Listening to all this, Yoon Seong-gon clicked his tongue
“Yeah, that tracks. With your personality…”
“What about my personality?”
“Well… not exactly great. If we’re being real, hmm… maybe borderline trash?”
“You really cherry-pick the prettiest words, don’t you?”
Go Hoon slowly curled his fist on the table. In response, Seong-gon raised both hands in mock surrender, laughing sheepishly.
“Whoa, whoa—calm down, man. Let’s keep it civil.”
As they were chatting away in this strange show of friendship, an all-too-familiar voice suddenly called out from behind them.
“Go Hoon.”
His body reacted to the voice before his brain even processed who it was.
“Bae Jung-yoon?”
Turning his head reflexively, Go Hoon blinked. This was the second time they’d run into each other today. What the hell is he doing here? A flicker of suspicion crept into Hoon’s eyes.
Even though he had to know what kind of unspoken vibes were flying around, Bae Jung-yoon approached the table and casually acted like nothing was off.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“Oh, absolutely not!”
Before Go Hoon could say anything, Yoon Seong-gon eagerly welcomed him.
“Here, take this seat. Right over here.”
Not stopping there, Seong-gon beamed like a lovesick fool and gestured politely with both hands toward the empty spot across from Go Hoon. Then he shot Hoon a meaningful glare. The message was loud and clear: You gonna scoot over or what?
Ugh, this shallow bastard. Always weak for a pretty face. Go Hoon clicked his tongue inwardly and reluctantly wiggled over to the inner seat.
“You’re not ordering anything?”
“Already did.”
When Hoon asked, Bae Jung-yoon sat down beside him and placed a vibrating order bell on the table. Fast hands. What, he’d already ordered something in the time it took to walk over?
Go Hoon scratched his cheek. What kind of weird trio was this, exactly?
With the three of them stuck in this vague, awkward configuration, there was no obvious conversation to start. It felt weird to talk about private stuff with Seong-gon in front of Jung-yoon.
Both Seong-gon and Jung-yoon stared at him. Two pairs of eyes boring into him like lasers. Hoon twitched his thick eyebrows.
‘What the hell. What do you want from me? Why are you both staring like that?’
He finally turned his gaze to Bae Jung-yoon.
‘So? Why are you here?’ He shot a silent question his way, but Jung-yoon offered no explanation. Just smiled with those crescent-moon eyes of his, locking eyes with Go Hoon.
Of course. This guy chose now to act like he had no sense. The meaningless staring contest dragged on until Hoon surrendered first. There was nothing he could do about those deep, dark eyes that stared straight through him.
He turned his gaze back toward Seong-gon—only to suddenly feel his chin being guided to the side.
“You’ve got an eyelash stuck here.”
Bae Jung-yoon’s cold fingertips brushed against his cheek.
