“I’ll ask you one more time, sir. Where is our Kang-woo?”
President Kim pressed his lips together and stared at Kyung-wook. The standoff that had lasted several minutes finally ended when Kyung-wook spoke again.
“Ah, I get it now.”
With a long finger, he pointed at President Kim.
“You don’t know where Kim Kang-woo is either, do you?”
That struck the heart of it. President Kim couldn’t respond and remained silent. Kyung-wook’s lips twitched.
“Interesting.”
He released his clasped hands and leaned lazily back against the soft leather sofa. A low sigh slipped from his mouth.
“How did it come to this?”
“……”
“Why did you let Kim Kang-woo run away by himself, sir?”
The voice blaming President Kim gradually turned colder toward the end.
“Your son belongs to me.”
Kyung-wook behaved as though Kang-woo were his possession, and he spoke with the absolute certainty of someone proclaiming an undeniable truth.
President Kim suppressed the groan threatening to escape his throat. He had vaguely known since childhood that Kyung-wook’s affection for his son was unusual. But he had never expected it would lead to a situation like this. His son had now left home—to escape reality.
“Kyung-wook, your words are excessive.”
“No. They’re not excessive.”
President Kim had barely managed to say a single sentence, but Kyung-wook immediately cut him off. With a languid smile, he whispered,
“If I don’t have Kang-woo, I’ll die, sir.”
It sounded no different from a heartfelt confession of love. But what filled Kyung-wook’s eyes was not the shy affection of someone in love—only an endlessly dark and twisted emotion.
“So put things back the way they were.”
Kyung-wook bared his teeth in a smile.
A chill crept down the back of President Kim’s neck, raising goosebumps. Because of that, the only thing he could do was release a trembling breath.
The ink on Kyung-wook’s resident registration card had barely dried, yet President Kim was already being completely overpowered by this nineteen-year-old. And it wasn’t simply because of his relationship with Baek Gu-bon, Kyung-wook’s father.
Nineteen-year-old Kyung-wook overwhelmed him.
He had a remarkable ability to instill fear.
When he was younger, he had at least shown some respect to his elders and maintained basic manners. But as he grew older, his behavior changed. He no longer bothered to hide his rough nature.
The political world was sensitive to scandals, so President Kim knew well that Baek Gu-bon considered his second son a troublesome existence. Still, even a painful finger was still a finger—Baek Gu-bon ultimately protected Kyung-wook.
Therefore, President Kim couldn’t treat Kyung-wook carelessly. And Kyung-wook knew that perfectly well.
He’s like a snake.
If one judged by his brazen behavior alone, he was someone who should be crushed and put in his place—but President Kim couldn’t let go of him yet.
He was a card too valuable to discard.
More than anything, an instinctive fear toward someone he couldn’t give up took precedence. President Kim knew very well that Kyung-wook was the type of person who would stop at nothing to obtain what he wanted.
“President Kim, it would be best if you find Kang-woo quickly before I step in.”
His warning wasn’t merely for intimidation.
Next time, it wouldn’t be words that followed—it would be action.
After finishing his sentence with a cold expression, Kyung-wook rose from his seat. President Kim remained silently staring forward until the very end. The dense pheromone scent radiating from Kyung-wook served as a reminder.
A reminder not to dare challenge someone you couldn’t defeat.
“It was nice seeing you after so long, sir. Next time, I’ll come visit with Kang-woo. Goodbye.”
After leaving behind a bright farewell, Kyung-wook departed, and only a precarious silence remained in the living room.
Suddenly, President Kim’s clenched fist slammed violently against the sofa’s armrest.
“You insolent bastard. I spoiled him too much, and now he has no sense of boundaries.”
President Kim muttered furiously, his fierce gaze fixed in the direction Kyung-wook had disappeared.
***
Was Kang-woo’s effort starting to show results, or was it simply a natural change that came with time?
Two weeks after they began living together, the distance between Seok-ho and Kang-woo seemed to gradually shrink.
“Today I saw a puppy on TV, and it was so cute. Its name was ‘Chapssal.’ Just like its name, its fur was white, small, and fluffy…”
These days, Kang-woo waited eagerly for Seok-ho’s return from work.
Since he spent the entire day shut inside the house with no one to talk to, the landlord returning home late at night felt incredibly welcome.
From the moment Seok-ho opened the sliding door and stepped inside, Kang-woo followed him around, chattering endlessly.
It was the only joy of his day.
“And it’s super affectionate too. Apparently it’s really smart and listens well to its owner. They put several stuffed toys on the floor, call out their names, and it can tell them apart and bring the right one. Isn’t that amazing?”
Had he always been this talkative?
Sometimes Kang-woo surprised himself.
When he lived at home, he had been fairly quiet. When he was young, he often came back from school and chatted endlessly with the housekeeper about what had happened that day.
But once puberty came and he became a high school student, he gradually spoke less. At some point, it felt like his mouth had been locked shut.
If you talked too much, you might reveal unnecessary personal information.
Kang-woo needed to keep his mouth closed.
Of course, things were different now. At first, he felt pressured to act as the mood-maker since he was living under Seok-ho’s roof. But once he started talking, the stories just kept flowing.
The topics were always varied.
The crimson sunset he saw that afternoon. The cool autumn breeze blowing through the air. Horrible and absurd accidents reported on the news. The life story of someone who appeared on a counseling program.
Fortunately, Seok-ho turned out to be a surprisingly good listener.
Even though he didn’t talk much, he quietly listened to Kang-woo’s stories.
Even after returning home exhausted from working late into the night, he never showed any sign of annoyance. When Kang-woo chatted enthusiastically, Seok-ho would sometimes nod beside him.
Kang-woo was very grateful for that.
“Hyung, which do you like more—dogs or cats?”
“Why does that need to be compared?”
“I’m just curious. If you had to choose only one—dogs or cats—which would you pick?”
“Cats.”
Sometimes he had even reached the point where he answered Kang-woo’s pointless questions like this.
“Why?”
“They’re not too much. Just… the right amount.”
“I see.”
Resting his chin on his hand, Kang-woo crossed his arms and leaned his upper body forward.
“That’s different from me. I like dogs more.”
“Why?”
“Dogs follow their owners around all the time and act cute. When the owner leaves, they just wait at home the whole time. And wherever they are, they only look at their owner. Plus, you can train them. But cats are kind of… it feels like I only get half the affection I give them back. Though that doesn’t mean cats aren’t cute.”
After speaking seriously with his brows slightly furrowed, Kang-woo noticed that Seok-ho was staring at him without responding.
“Why? Is there something on my face?”
Kang-woo touched his cheek with a puzzled expression.
What? He kept feeling around, but nothing came off. With wide eyes, Kang-woo looked at Seok-ho.
To Seok-ho, he looked like a puppy tilting its head and looking at its owner.
Of course, Kang-woo himself seemed completely unaware of that.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s nothing.”
Seok-ho looked away and moved his chopsticks again.
Still looking unconvinced, Kang-woo stared at him while he ate. Saying it was nothing somehow made it even more suspicious. Even after hearing the answer, the uncomfortable feeling wouldn’t go away.
This won’t do. I should check myself.
“Where are you going?”
The moment Kang-woo stood up quietly, Seok-ho lifted his sharp eyes.
“The bathroom.”
Answering calmly, Kang-woo went straight into the bathroom and closed the door.
Even when he leaned close to the mirror and inspected carefully, there wasn’t a single speck of dust on his face. There was nothing wrong with his skin either.
Then what did that look mean?
Still full of doubt, Kang-woo returned to the table.
“Try this too. I made the stuffed cucumber kimchi. I’m not exaggerating—it’s really good.”
His curiosity quickly faded away. One of the side dishes he had worked hard to make was being neglected.
As he seriously promoted the dish’s deliciousness, Seok-ho slowly reached out and picked up a piece of the stuffed cucumber kimchi. A crisp sound accompanied the movement of his chewing mouth.
It was Kang-woo’s first time making it, but he was confident it had turned out well. He had relied on memory to recreate the housekeeper’s recipe.
Most people salted cucumbers with salt or saltwater, but the housekeeper had said the secret to crisp stuffed cucumber kimchi was pouring boiling saltwater over them.
That way the salt dissolved better, seasoning soaked in well, and the texture became much better.
“It’s good, right?”
When Kang-woo asked with expectant eyes, Seok-ho glanced at him.
Where on earth did he learn to do things like this?
The rabbit-shaped apples from before were the same.
Seok-ho thought Kim Kang-woo was a bit unusual. For someone his age, the guy was surprisingly attentive.
Usually people that age didn’t take an interest in how to make stuffed cucumber kimchi. Well, these days recipes were everywhere on YouTube and blogs—but even then, you still needed some skill to make it taste right.
In that sense, Kang-woo seemed to have quite a talent for cooking.
“Does it taste bad?”
Those bright, sparkling eyes had been staring at Seok-ho for a while now. The piercing gaze was waiting eagerly for his answer.
When no response came, worry slowly began creeping into Kang-woo’s eyes. Before any misunderstanding could form, Seok-ho hurriedly gave his honest impression.
“It’s good.”
“Right?”
Kang-woo’s expression immediately brightened as he looked at Seok-ho with shining eyes.
“It’s a recipe from someone I know. I’ve loved it since I was little.”
Looking at his face—where the anxiety had vanished and color returned—Seok-ho suddenly thought,
He’s cute.
It was only a fleeting thought that passed in an instant. So fleeting that even he himself didn’t notice it.
At that moment, their eyes met.
At the same time, Kang-woo’s mouth, which had been chattering endlessly, closed. His black eyes moved downward as if avoiding Seok-ho’s gaze.
What was that? Had he seen wrong?
For a moment, it had looked like Seok-ho was holding back a smile while looking at him.
Kang-woo stared at Seok-ho more carefully. But nothing seemed different. As usual, Seok-ho continued quietly eating the stuffed cucumber kimchi.
In the end, Kang-woo concluded that he must have imagined it.
“Leave this here and go rest.”
As always, Kang-woo waited until Seok-ho finished eating before volunteering to wash the dishes. It was his way of showing gratitude for keeping him company during the meal.
He scrubbed the small number of dishes until they were squeaky clean, then tidied up the area around the sink. After hanging up the wet dishcloth to dry, he finished cleaning.
After carefully drying his hands, he turned around—And Seok-ho was standing right behind him.
His shoulders jumped.
That startled me.
Kang-woo calmed his racing heart internally.
“Take it.”
Seok-ho suddenly held something out.
Kang-woo absentmindedly accepted it. In his hand was a thin, rectangular plastic card.
He turned the white card over and over. In one corner, the name of the officetel was written in small letters.
“What’s this?”
“It’s the door lock card for the front door. It also works for the shared entrance on the first floor and the underground parking garage. Just keep it.”
He had suspected it, but it really was a key card.
Kang-woo hadn’t expected Seok-ho to give it to him first. Unable to find the right words to respond, he hesitated. Seok-ho frowned slightly.
“You should start going outside a bit too. Don’t stay inside the house all day.”
He added quietly,
“You’re not some dog waiting for its owner. Get some fresh air. Exercise.”
His sharp eyes swept over Kang-woo’s entire body. Strangely, wherever his gaze landed, Kang-woo felt a tingling sensation.
Tightening his grip on the card, Kang-woo looked straight at Seok-ho.
“Are you sure it’s okay to give this to me? What if I run off with it?”
“What would you even do by running off with that?”
He had only asked out of embarrassment about accepting it so easily—but Seok-ho was right. Even if he ran away with it, there was nowhere he could actually use it.
That had been a pointless and ridiculous thing to say.
Silence briefly settled between them.
Still feeling somewhat dazed, Kang-woo stared at Seok-ho before finally bowing his head.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t lose it. If you lose it, I’ll make you pay the reissue fee.”
“Yes. I won’t lose it. I’ll keep it safely.”
Holding the card tightly in both hands, Kang-woo nodded obediently. Seok-ho jerked his chin toward the room.
“Go to your room and sleep now.”
“Yes.”
Just as Kang-woo was about to head to his room, he bowed slightly to Seok-ho.
“Hyung, good night.”
“Yeah.”
After that indifferent reply, Seok-ho wandered into his room as if he had finished everything he needed to do.
Kang-woo watched his large retreating figure for quite a while.
His way of expressing it was clumsy, but Kang-woo thought Seok-ho seemed like quite a kind person.
