Instead of answering, Han Jun lifted the long umbrella he was holding.
“Don’t tell me…… you were waiting for me?”
“Did you think I’d be standing around in front of the infirmary waiting for the principal or something?”
“Why?”
“It’s raining. You don’t have an umbrella.”
Maybe it was because his voice carried through the sound of the rain with a surprising gentleness.
The violent waves that had been raging inside Yi-hyeon just moments ago—caused by the bizarre changes happening to his body—began to slowly settle. When his emotions finally calmed to the point they could be called still, the shimmering light reflected on the surface felt like Han Jun’s eyes, holding the glow of a streetlamp.
Yi-hyeon wanted to walk home with Han Jun. But because of his unusual physical condition, he had no choice but to reject Han Jun’s kindness, even if it meant lying.
“I have one. An umbrella. So you go on ahead.”
After saying that, he went back into the classroom to grab his bag and school uniform, then pulled them over his head as he stepped outside—only to have Han Jun, who had been waiting at the main entrance of the building, thrust his opened umbrella toward him.
“You don’t,” Han Jun said with a grin as he stood right beside him. “You don’t have an umbrella.”
“……”
“I have no idea why you’re lying, but now that I’ve confirmed you don’t have one, I can’t just leave.”
When Han Jun said he’d walk him to the bus stop, Yi-hyeon couldn’t come up with a good way to refuse. In the end, he had no choice but to walk alongside him.
Han Jun’s shoulders were broad, so even though the umbrella was large, the space underneath it felt absurdly cramped. Yi-hyeon stood near the very edge, hunching his shoulders as much as he could, but despite supposedly sharing an umbrella, one shoulder from each of them was soaked through with rain.
“What are you doing?” Han Jun asked, glancing down at him.
“Huh?”
“If you walk that far away, there’s no point in sharing an umbrella.”
“Well, your shoulder was getting wet……”
“I get wet even when I use one alone. So don’t worry about it and come here.”
Han Jun gently tugged on Yi-hyeon’s forearm. Before he could refuse, Yi-hyeon’s arm brushed against Han Jun’s skin. Yi-hyeon pressed his lips together tightly, and a faint dimple formed on one cheek.
Walking side by side with Han Jun, Yi-hyeon naturally caught the clean, refreshing scent rising from him through the damp air. Thinking it smelled really nice, Yi-hyeon absentmindedly sniffed his own gym clothes.
His sweat from PE class had mixed with the rain, and it seemed like it might smell musty.
I should’ve changed when I went back to the classroom.
The thought that Han Jun might notice his sweat made Yi-hyeon shrink in on himself for no reason.
“Are you cold?” Han Jun asked.
“Huh? No.”
“Then why are you so hunched up? Don’t tell me you’re—”
Since when did the word “don’t tell me” become something so nerve-wracking? Afraid Han Jun might mention his ears, Yi-hyeon swallowed hard, his throat dry with tension.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
The heart that had gone rigid with anxiety loosened again.
“No. It’s just… I sweated a lot earlier, so I was worried I might smell.”
Han Jun leaned in, bringing his nose near Yi-hyeon’s head. Startled by how much closer they’d become because of his careless comment, Yi-hyeon leaned his head back sharply.
“All I smell is peach.”
“Peach?”
That’s weird. The shampoo I use isn’t peach-scented.
Did the orphanage change fabric softener?
Yi-hyeon kept sniffing at his clothes. But with his keen sense of smell, he couldn’t detect even a hint of peach—no fruit scent at all.
Instead, hundreds of other scents flooded in.
Damp wood, rain-soaked grass, the wet cement of buildings, even the foul stench of sewage being secretly dumped under cover of the rain. The chaotic tangle of smells made his head ache.
He had no choice but to give up on tracking the peach scent.
“Where do you live? Which bus do you take?”
Matching Han Jun’s long strides, Yi-hyeon walked on until the bus stop came into view. Just then, the number 59 bus—the one Yi-hyeon needed—passed right by them. The stop was close, and because of the rain, the bus wasn’t moving fast. If he ran, he could catch it.
“702.”
He didn’t know when his ears might appear again.
The right thing to do was to sprint after the 59 bus, put distance between himself and Han Jun. And yet, without thinking, Yi-hyeon named the bus that stopped three stations away from the orphanage, in front of the training center. Even after saying it, he couldn’t understand why he’d told such a lie.
“I told you, it’s really fine.”
After lying about the bus number too, Han Jun refused to leave, eyes wide as he checked the numbers on every passing bus, insisting he’d walk Yi-hyeon all the way to the orphanage.
I’m going to lose my mind!
Before the lie was exposed, Yi-hyeon decided he had to refuse firmly.
“You don’t have to walk me.”
“You don’t even have an umbrella. So what, you’re planning to walk home from the stop in the rain?”
“It’s close. If I run, I won’t get that wet.”
“So you admit you’ll still get wet.”
“If you walk me home, I’ll want to walk you home too. And then it’ll never end.”
“Do you like me?”
The completely out-of-nowhere question made Yi-hyeon stare at him, mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“If that’s not it, then why do you want to walk me home so badly?”
“Because you wanted to walk me home first. Then what—do you like me too?”
“I just wanted to lend you my umbrella. But what’s your reason?”
Yi-hyeon was left speechless by Han Jun’s question. While he fidgeted, unsure how to respond, the 702 bus pulled up to the stop.
As Han Jun stepped through the open bus doors, he turned back to Yi-hyeon, who was standing there blankly.
“What are you doing? You’re not getting on? Am I going to your place alone?”
In the end, Yi-hyeon had no choice but to follow Han Jun onto the bus.
Han Jun was truly a strange person. Always teasing people—but when you really thought about it, it was usually closer to helping than mocking. And if you tried to thank him, he’d draw a hard line, saying he hadn’t helped at all. He disliked people but adored animals, and just when you thought he might be a clean freak, he’d casually do things others would consider filthy.
His oddity didn’t stop at his personality. Despite being the son of a National Assembly member and the grandson of Chairman Joo—a major power player in real estate and private lending—he didn’t have a transportation card.
“Huh? Why isn’t it working? You’re supposed to tap it here, right?”
Saying he’d seen it on TV, Han Jun kept tapping his card against the machine, tilting his head in confusion.
“Student, don’t you have cash?” the driver asked.
“Of course I do.”
Han Jun pulled out a 50,000-won bill and handed it to the driver like he was paying for snacks at a convenience store.
Yi-hyeon bowed apologetically to the stunned driver and quickly held out his own transportation card.
“Two fares, including his. It’s his first time on a bus, I think. Sorry.”
“Is there really a high schooler who’s never ridden a bus before?” the driver muttered with a hollow laugh as he closed the doors.
Grabbing Han Jun’s hand as he kept inspecting his card, still insisting there was money on it, Yi-hyeon dragged him to a seat in the very back corner of the bus. As soon as they sat down, Han Jun glanced at Yi-hyeon’s card and asked,
“Yours works, so why doesn’t mine?”
“Guess you didn’t sign up for transportation payments.”
“You just swipe it. Why’d they make it so complicated?”
For a chaebol heir who had no reason to use buses or subways, it was probably an unnecessary feature. Of course he wouldn’t have postpaid transit enabled. Yi-hyeon wondered if it was really right to show someone who lived in such a different world the old orphanage where he lived.
He’ll be disappointed. Just like those kids back then.
He remembered how, as a child, friends he’d happily invited over would turn around with disappointed expressions the moment they saw his home.
With a faintly bitter look, Yi-hyeon silently watched the raindrops streak across the bus window.
Han Jun seemed fascinated by everything. When Yi-hyeon pressed the stop button, saying this was where he’d get off, Han Jun exclaimed excitedly that next time he’d press it himself.
Would there even be a next time they rode the bus together?
Yi-hyeon shook his head.
