“You drank a lot, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Go Hoon didn’t bother to deny it. He admitted it easily. The buzz was hitting just enough that lying felt like too much effort—and besides, he’d already shown how unsteady he was. Denying it now wouldn’t fool anyone.
“How much?”
“No idea. I don’t remember.”
He shook his head lazily. Bae Jung-yoon’s pitch-black eyes stared at him, as if trying to assess just how drunk he was. Then, glancing around, he nodded toward the entrance.
“Want to step outside for a walk?”
His voice dropped into a quiet murmur, like he was making a secret offer. Go Hoon glanced around, weighing the idea. Going outside was a hassle, sure—but staying here might be worse. If he went back to the table, he had no idea when the next wave of alcohol would hit.
“Hey! Where the hell did Go Hoon run off to? Huh? Gooo Hoon!”
Right on cue, the student council president’s voice echoed through the room. Go Hoon’s face twisted in irritation. Bae Jung-yoon seemed to have heard it too; his eyes flicked toward the sound.
Why the hell does that guy keep looking for me like we’re best friends or something? That “I’ve got you now” declaration earlier—so this is what he meant? Let’s see how much you can handle tonight, huh?
“Let’s go. Now.”
Deciding that staying here would be flat-out stupid, Go Hoon leaned in and whispered quickly, grabbing Bae Jung-yoon by the arm. He headed straight for the front entrance. Whether it was the adrenaline or survival instinct, his shaky steps suddenly firmed up.
As soon as they escaped the noisy crowd, it felt easier to breathe. The area was surrounded by mountains—the air was fresh, a little damp. A cool breeze blew past, carrying a chill that helped clear his head.
Go Hoon trudged forward a bit, then figured they’d gone far enough and turned back. He caught sight of Bae Jung-yoon staring fixedly at something. His gaze was locked in place. Following the direction of his eyes, Go Hoon realized—
“Ah. Sorry.”
Only just now noticing he’d still been clutching Jung-yoon’s arm, he let go quickly. Jung-yoon smirked, answering with a teasing drawl.
“You can keep holding it, if you want.”
The mischievous lilt in his voice made Go Hoon awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His skin was burning up. Even out here in the cool air, it didn’t feel like the alcohol was fading—it felt like it was hitting him even harder.
When he looked up sheepishly, Jung-yoon scanned their surroundings and spoke.
“If we stay here too long, someone’s gonna find us. Let’s keep walking a bit more.”
With that sly grin, he looked like someone coaxing you into trouble. Bae Jung-yoon started walking ahead, and Go Hoon silently followed.
They walked down a dimly lit path at a slow, steady pace. The soft chirping of insects filled the silence between them. It felt like they’d been walking for a long while.
Streetlights were spaced far apart along the endless road. At some point, they’d gone pretty far—the lodge was no longer even visible when they turned back.
“Want to sit for a bit?”
Jung-yoon pointed off to the side, and Go Hoon followed his hand to a small bench. He nodded and sat down. Bracing one hand on the bench, he tilted his head up toward the sky.
He’d expected stars—being far from the city and all—but it seemed the weather had turned in the evening. Thick, heavy clouds now covered the sky.
It was disappointing, but it had its own kind of mood. Feeling a strange calm settle over him, Go Hoon blinked slowly. He stared off into the empty sky until Bae Jung-yoon waved a hand in front of his face.
“Hoon-ah, are you really that drunk?”
Maybe it was the alcohol, but for some reason, Jung-yoon’s voice sounded unusually soft tonight. Meeting his gaze, Go Hoon shook his head hard.
“Nooope. Not drunk.”
He’d just admitted earlier that he’d had a lot to drink, but for some reason, the idea of being drunk—he didn’t want to say that out loud. Even if his voice was slurred beyond belief, and there was no way Jung-yoon would actually believe him.
Still smirking, Jung-yoon leaned in closer. Why’s he getting so close? The thought floated hazily through Go Hoon’s mind, but his body refused to respond.
His limbs felt slow and heavy—probably the alcohol coursing through him. Jung-yoon’s face hovered just inches away. His lips curled upward.
“Your cheeks are red.”
“…Are they?”
Go Hoon lowered his gaze and pressed a hand to his face. Yep. Still burning. Splashing cold water on himself earlier had done nothing.
A hand tilted his chin up.
“Your face is hot.”
Jung-yoon’s fingers slid down to his neck. Then, they trailed gently over his throat—his Adam’s apple—and wandered up to toy with his earlobe.
“This part’s hot too.”
A ticklish sensation traced its way down his spine. At the same time, the memory of those fingers wrapped around his cock surged back into his mind, overpowering his thoughts. Go Hoon shoved the bold hand off his body.
“…Stop touching me, you fucker.”
He muttered, voice rough with irritation. Bae Jung-yoon just grinned, wide and amused.
“What? Getting turned on again?”
This bastard, always screwing around. Seeing that smug face smirking right in front of him stirred something dark and needy inside Go Hoon.
“I’ve got a question for you.”
Honestly, it was the kind of thing he could only ask while drunk. There was no way he’d bring it up sober.
“What is it?”
“Why the hell are you like this?”
“Like what?”
Like what? Go Hoon narrowed his eyes at him, then muttered under his breath.
“Not in a good way, that’s for sure.”
Bae Jung-yoon let out a short, amused laugh.
“Judging by that face, I’m guessing that’s your watered-down version.”
Yeah. That was him being generous. Truthfully, he wanted to say you’ve got a fucked-up side—no, a downright nasty side.
Instead of confirming it, Go Hoon chose to stay quiet. Jung-yoon stopped laughing, let out a thoughtful hum, then asked something completely out of left field.
“Human nature—evil or good. Hoon, which one do you believe in?”
Go Hoon blinked, staring at him. I just asked why you’re such a damn weirdo, and now you’re bringing up moral philosophy? What the hell was this shift?
“…Do I have to pick one?”
“So you don’t believe in either?”
If he had to answer, then yeah—that was about right. Born evil, born good. What’s the point of assigning labels like that?
If people really were born one way or the other, humans wouldn’t be such a tangled mess. Go Hoon bit his tongue and casually flipped the question back.
“What about you?”
Anyone asking a question like that probably already had their own answer figured out.
“Me?”
Bae Jung-yoon slowly moved his eyes, then looked directly at him.
“I believe people are inherently evil.”
If Go Hoon only knew Bae Jung-yoon by his public image, he might’ve found that answer surprising. But he didn’t—so it didn’t feel strange at all. In fact, it felt fitting.
At the same time, a thought crossed his mind: Maybe what Jung-yoon really wants is to be seen as someone with a rational, realistic view of the world.
“…Got a reason for that?”
“You’ve heard the term ‘pure evil,’ right? Kids can be like that—pure and absolutely cruel.”
The moment that phrase left Jung-yoon’s lips—pure evil—Go Hoon felt something stir inside. Because that was exactly the term he’d used in his own head to describe him.
Pure evil. Malice without intent.
“That’s not evil… they just don’t know any better.”
Sure, Go Hoon had thought of Bae Jung-yoon as “pure evil” before, but that didn’t mean he actually believed it was evil in the moral sense. He blinked slowly, then answered.
“Not knowing something doesn’t make you bad… You just need someone to show you a better way. That’s why parents matter.”
Bae Jung-yoon’s gaze shifted—deep, unreadable. He stared at him for a long moment, then asked,
“Who taught you?”
There was a sincere curiosity in his voice, and Go Hoon couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. It was obvious what he meant: Without parents, how did you learn how to be human?
“I… taught myself.”
Go Hoon had learned alone—out of necessity, out of survival. He paid attention to how others reacted to him, to how they looked at him when he acted a certain way.
It wasn’t like he was naturally sharp or observant. He just adapted. That’s all. When he was younger, all he really wanted was to be liked by the adults around him. Just a kid wanting affection. Children can be clueless, but sometimes they see everything.
“I didn’t have anything… but there were definitely times I just wanted someone to love me.”
He murmured it like a confession to no one in particular. Over time, he’d learned how to understand his place.
Still… how the hell did the conversation end up here? He only meant to take a jab at Jung-yoon’s twisted personality, that’s all.
This is why you shouldn’t talk too much when you’re drunk. It was probably time to end the conversation before it veered any further off course. Besides, it felt like they’d been out here a while.
As the thought crossed his mind, Go Hoon suddenly stood up. His legs wobbled, and as Bae Jung-yoon reached out to steady him, he raised a hand to signal he was fine.
“We should head back.”
He pulled out his phone to check the time—just in case someone had tried to get in touch. But no one had. Maybe everyone was too drunk. No messages. No missed calls.
Go Hoon stared blankly at his phone screen, trying to bring the blurred numbers into focus.
1:11 a.m.
It had been about an hour since they’d slipped out of the seminar room.
By now, the drinking session was probably winding down. He figured he’d quietly head back to the lodge and get some sleep. That was the plan—until he felt something light tap the bridge of his nose.
“…Huh?”
He blinked and looked up.
A few scattered droplets tapped his face—and then, in an instant, the rain came pouring down in sheets.
Shhhhhhhhhh—
Caught under the sudden downpour, Go Hoon flinched and raised his voice in surprise.
“What the hell? Out of nowhere—!”
He lifted his hands in a futile attempt to shield his head, stumbling slightly, when Bae Jung-yoon suddenly grabbed his arm.
“Run.”
Without hesitation, he yanked Go Hoon forward.
Their feet slapped against the wet ground as they took off. A sharp twinge flickered through Go Hoon’s knee, but it disappeared just as quickly. All he could see in front of him were Jung-yoon’s broad shoulders, moving steadily ahead.
The cold rain struck his skin like needles, soaking him through. Then, just for a moment, the clouds shifted—and moonlight spilled through the break.
In that moment, Bae Jung-yoon glanced back over his shoulder, smiling.
Time seemed to slow. Maybe it was the running. Maybe it was the alcohol. But Go Hoon’s heart pounded heavy in his chest, and a wave of nausea rolled through his stomach.
The moment they reached the guesthouse, they instinctively ducked beneath the nearest awning. Both of them were breathless, lungs burning.
Go Hoon bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. Then he straightened up. Their eyes met—and without needing to say a word, they both burst into quiet laughter.
Being soaked didn’t feel bad. It felt good. The absurdity of the moment made him laugh under his breath, over and over.
Memories stirred. Chasing each other in the rain with the other orphans, sprinting back to the Yeongsol Orphanage when the clouds broke. Rain-drenched training days from his military service. A tangle of old, distant things—suddenly vivid again.
Jung-yoon’s pale face looked flushed. He met Go Hoon’s eyes—and then, without a word, crouched down.
“Your leg okay?”
He must’ve just remembered the injury. Gently, he reached for the soaked pants, pushed them up, and ran his fingers lightly over Go Hoon’s knee. The touch tickled, and Go Hoon instinctively stepped back.
“Still hurts?”
Jung-yoon looked up. His soaked black hair clung to his forehead, even darker against the contrast of his pale skin.
Go Hoon met his gaze, holding it. Just one step beyond the edge of the awning, the rain was pouring in torrents, the sound deafening.
And suddenly, his mind flashed back—to the day of the accident. The rain had been just as heavy. And it had been Jung-yoon, again, who came to see him—alone, in the emergency room.
And somehow, in that moment, Go Hoon just knew: From now on, when it rains like this, he’ll think of Bae Jung-yoon.
A strange feeling bloomed in his chest.
The urge to tell him everything.
To lay it all bare—no lies, no hesitation. And maybe—just maybe—Bae Jung-yoon would understand. Keep his secrets. And every so often, like this, they’d be able to look at each other and smile—quietly, effortlessly, like nothing was broken.
Maybe.
