***
The next day. Han Jun sat on a swing at the playground beside the park where he’d arranged to meet the seller, repeatedly bending and straightening the foot touching the ground as he let out deep, heavy sighs. Yi-hyeon, sitting on the swing beside him, wore the same worried expression as he waited for Mi-jin to appear, afraid of what it would mean if this wasn’t it.
“We’ll be able to find the phone, right?”
“That guy plays games and secretly blows money on microtransactions behind his parents’ backs. If there’s anything he can turn into cash, he’s definitely the type to sell it.”
They waited for a long time like that. Then, from far away, Mi-jin came into view—her elegant appearance completely out of place in a playground near a school. Yi-hyeon quickly hopped off the swing and stood straight, waiting for her to approach.
“Here.”
As Mi-jin tried to hand the phone to Han Jun, Yi-hyeon hurriedly intercepted it with both hands, taking it politely. If Han Jun touched it with his bare hands, his scent would transfer, making it hard to judge accurately.
“There’s something I need to check first…… thank you so much for getting it.”
Avoiding Mi-jin’s suspicious gaze, Yi-hyeon took a step back with the phone and hid behind Han Jun.
“But what are you even doing, buying all of these? You can tell just by looking? Wouldn’t it be easier to just collect them all and run forensics?”
At Mi-jin’s question, Han Jun brushed it off, saying it was a device he’d used himself, so of course he’d know—there were certain features you could recognize at a glance.
Mi-jin watched Yi-hyeon as he held the phone delicately between his fingers, examining it from every angle. She still didn’t quite understand what he was doing, but apparently found it cute anyway, letting out a short laugh. Then she pulled a card from her wallet and pressed it into Han Jun’s hand.
“Go buy something good to eat with Yi-hyeon.”
“I’ve got money to buy him food too.”
“So eat somewhere nicer. Something better.”
“Sorry, but I’m buying his meal myself, with my own money.”
Clicking her tongue at him for being a pain even when she was trying to be generous, Mi-jin snatched the card back and turned away. After taking three or four steps, she stopped and turned around again. Compared to before, there was a more complicated shadow beneath her eyes, her gaze shining quietly.
“Jun.”
“Why are you calling me like that? That’s creepy.”
Han Jun rubbed his arm briskly with his palm, shuddering.
“The school violence committee—do you want me to go for you?”
Han Jun froze mid-rub and stared at her with wide eyes. It was clear he hadn’t expected it even a little. After a brief silence, he shook his head.
“You know I hate being tied up with that man and Mom more than anything. I don’t want to give those people even the tiniest bit of bait. It seems like what I said yesterday stuck with you, but it’s fine. I can handle it myself.”
The look in Mi-jin’s eyes as she gazed at her nephew was incredibly deep. She stood there silently for a while before telling him to let her know anytime he needed help, then turned away.
Han Jun, head lowered and lips twitching as if he was hesitating, called out to her again.
“Auntie.”
When Mi-jin turned back, he met her gaze and smiled softly.
“I know it took courage for you to even bring that up.”
Thank you.
His voice was filled with sincerity.
As if a long-hardened knot in her heart had finally melted, the sharp edge that had always lingered in Mi-jin’s eyes softened completely. Seeing the rims of her eyes—belonging to someone he’d always thought of as strong and unyielding—slowly redden, Yi-hyeon felt an ache rise inexplicably in the bridge of his own nose and rubbed at it with the back of his hand.
While Han Jun silently watched the alley where Mi-jin’s car disappeared, Yi-hyeon, sitting beside him, worked to calm the surge of emotion in his chest. Then he focused all of his senses on his sense of smell and began sniffing the phone.
Beneath the lingering scent of Mi-jin’s hand cream and perfume was a familiar odor—one Yi-hyeon loathed with a passion. Seo Wonseok’s body scent.
In that instant, Yi-hyeon’s eyes, which had been scrunched tightly as he concentrated on smelling, flew open wide. He broke into a bright smile and looked up at Han Jun.
“Found it!”
“Really?”
Overjoyed at the miracle of finding the phone with just one day left before the school violence committee, the two of them rushed toward each other and pulled one another into a tight embrace, celebrating that it was done. Then, as if burned, they sprang apart just as quickly.
Scratching the back of his neck with an awkward expression, Han Jun turned away first, suggesting they go eat. Yi-hyeon, trying to hide his bright red face, deliberately stared at the ground and answered with a short, “Yeah,” before following a step behind him.
Walking in silence, the thought that Seo Wonseok might actually be transferred made memories of all the bullying he’d endured come flooding back. The face of his homeroom teacher from his second year—who’d told him that boys that age were just naturally mischievous and that he shouldn’t stir up trouble over nothing—flashed through his mind as well.
Because it had been bullying everyone had chosen to ignore. And because there had surely been fear of retaliation. That was why Yi-hyeon felt Han Jun’s outstretched hand all the more deeply.
When he lifted his head, Han Jun’s broad, sturdy back filled his view. Tilting his head slightly, his gaze dropped to Han Jun’s large hand, hanging loosely at his side and swinging at a steady rhythm.
I want to walk side by side, holding hands.
Yi-hyeon forced the desire rising in his mind back down with reason and looked away. Unlike the resolve he’d had at the beginning, every time he saw Han Jun, a longing he could never fulfill sprouted anew. Even knowing it could never, ever be realized, his craving for contact with him had been growing stronger lately.
As they turned into a quiet, sparsely populated alley, Han Jun’s shadow slanted. Blinking his wide eyes a few times, Yi-hyeon closed the distance between them just a little more. Then, matching the shadow of Han Jun’s hand, he cautiously stretched out his own—only to clench it into a fist and lower it again.
