At first he accepted it, but… was it really okay to use this?
Unable to find the right words, Kang-woo fidgeted with the rigid card in his hand before finally managing to speak.
“Can I really use this card?”
“It’s not like you have any money of your own anyway.”
“I do… 180,000 won in cash.”
Even as he answered, embarrassment crept in, and his voice grew quieter.
“Then keep that carefully in case of emergencies.”
Seok-ho said it casually.
He already felt overwhelmingly grateful just for being given a room to stay in, but was it really okay to receive this much help from him? This was practically a donation.
Maybe Seok-ho possessed enough wealth that spending money like water didn’t mean much to him. Then again, just looking at this officetel he lived in, it clearly wasn’t the kind of place an ordinary person could afford.
“You’re in the middle of your growth period. You should at least have money to buy snacks.”
Perhaps noticing his somewhat dispirited expression, Seok-ho added in an uncharacteristically playful tone.
“I’m not a kid.”
“You are.”
The reply seemed almost unconscious, yet Seok-ho said it so decisively that Kang-woo couldn’t argue further.
Still, a faint sense of defiance lingered as Kang-woo narrowed his eyes and looked up at him. Seok-ho raised an eyebrow as if to say oh?
But the standoff didn’t last long.
Kang-woo soon relaxed the tension around his eyes and lowered his gaze.
Let’s admit what should be admitted. From Seok-ho’s perspective, he really was a kid. He couldn’t earn money yet, nor was he in a position to live independently with confidence.
That was probably why he couldn’t immediately return the card and was hesitating like this.
No matter how much he stayed cooped up at home, he couldn’t survive without a single penny.
Besides, Seok-ho had already given it justification by saying it was payment for doing housework.
He would simply be receiving compensation for honest labor. If he spent only what was necessary—no, even less than that—there shouldn’t be much of a problem.
As if making up his mind, Kang-woo slipped the card into his pocket.
“Then I’ll gratefully accept it.”
“And one more thing.”
At the added remark, Kang-woo lifted his head.
“Here.”
This time, what Seok-ho pulled out of his pocket and handed over was a phone.
“I opened another line under my name. You use it.”
When he left home, Kang-woo had deliberately left his phone behind, so he had no means of contact.
Still, he hadn’t felt particularly inconvenienced. To begin with, he wasn’t the type to check his phone often, and he wasn’t someone who lived while staying in close contact with others.
Without much thought, Kang-woo shook his head.
“I can’t accept this too. I’ve been fine without a phone until now. You don’t have to take care of me like this.”
One could say that after accepting the credit card, refusing this was stubborn—but it was the last of his pride.
Somehow, if he accepted this too without hesitation, it felt like he would become a shameless person.
“It’s inconvenient for me.”
But the moment Seok-ho spoke those words in a casual tone, Kang-woo’s resolve wavered immediately.
It’s inconvenient for hyung?
Only then did the thought occur to him that it might indeed be the case.
If someone was living in his house yet couldn’t even be contacted, it would naturally be inconvenient from the homeowner’s perspective.
He hadn’t thought that far. He’d been judging everything too much from his own standpoint.
Even though he realized it now, he still couldn’t bring himself to accept it right away.
“There might be times I need to send you on errands.”
At that, he had no choice but to give up his hesitation.
“…Give it to me.”
In the end, he held out his hand and accepted the phone as well.
He felt a little awkward about how quickly he had changed his mind, but the embarrassment only lasted a moment—soon his attention was completely captured as he examined the phone.
Looking at it now, the phone Seok-ho gave him was the newest model currently being advertised all over TV.
Kang-woo idly pressed various things. He opened the web browser and gallery in turn, then checked the contacts.
He had expected it to be completely empty, but there were saved numbers.
One number labeled “Kwon Seok-ho,” and beneath it another contact labeled “Professor.”
A question mark popped up in Kang-woo’s mind.
“Professor? Who is this?”
“A doctor friend you met before. You called him Professor.”
“…Ah.”
He recalled the man who had come to the house to examine him on the day he collapsed.
A man with a gentle, easygoing impression.
“If you suddenly feel unwell, contact him right away. I’ve already told him about you, so don’t worry.”
At those words, Kang-woo lifted his gaze from the phone screen and looked up at Seok-ho.
For some reason, this sudden change in his attitude seemed entirely because of him.
It must be because he collapsed so suddenly that day when he went outside.
He was probably worried the same thing might happen again while Kang-woo was home alone when he was at work.
Kang-woo briefly wondered if he should explain that nothing like that would happen again—that he was normally healthy—but instead he quietly nodded.
“Thank you. I’ll use it well.”
Only then did Seok-ho look satisfied.
“Unpack your things.”
“Yes.”
Watching Seok-ho’s large back as he left the room, Kang-woo fiddled again with the phone left in his hand.
He didn’t know how much he would actually use this phone, but he should at least keep it clean and return it someday.
Feeling a strange weight settle on his shoulders, Kang-woo stood up, sensing a renewed determination rising within him.
As much as Seok-ho had helped him—no, even more than that—he would definitely repay this kindness someday.
For now, he would start step by step with what he could do.
Kang-woo firmly resolved that from now on he would help even more diligently with Seok-ho’s housework.
***
[hyung]
[I tried sending a message to celebrate getting a phone]
[If you ever need anything, please make sure to tell me anytime]
Ding—
At the sound of the doorbell, Seok-ho lifted his gaze from the text message he had been staring at and hastily set his phone down.
He only realized the reflexive reaction after he had already done it.
At the same time, his eyes met those of the uninvited guest who had pushed the door halfway open before stopping.
“What? Why are you so startled? You look like someone who just saw something you shouldn’t.”
Jun-seo—the very subject of that “something he shouldn’t see”—looked at Seok-ho with a bewildered expression, as if wondering what on earth was going on.
Instead of answering Jun-seo’s question, Seok-ho furrowed his brows.
Why are you here again?
Jun-seo, who clearly understood the meaning behind that look, pretended not to notice and quickly turned his attention elsewhere.
“Whoa, jjajangmyeon.”
The combination of jjajangmyeon and sweet-and-sour pork covering the table looked extremely appetizing.
Sliding the glass door open, Jun-seo strode inside and promptly planted himself in the seat beside him.
As if that wasn’t enough, he even grabbed one of the spare wooden chopsticks that had been set aside.
Seok-ho stared at his cousin—who was gleefully tearing open the chopstick wrapper—with drooping, unimpressed eyes.
“Mmm, smells good.”
Unbothered, Jun-seo focused intently as he carefully split the wooden chopsticks in half.
His slightly trembling hands soon went snap! with a crisp sound, splitting the chopsticks perfectly.
“Yes!”
Jun-seo shouted triumphantly as though he had accomplished something remarkable.
“Ahh, that’s clean. Look at this skill, hyung. Life should be lived this cleanly! With this momentum, let’s ace the college entrance exam in one clean shot too!”
Seok-ho shoved Jun-seo away with all his strength in an annoyed gesture as the chopsticks were waved in front of his face.
Though a poor lamb sacrificed to the pressure of exam studies sat before him, Seok-ho felt no sympathy whatsoever.
Jun-seo, who had been shoved so hard he collapsed onto the sofa, bounced right back up like a roly-poly toy.
“Ah, why is there nothing I can’t do?”
“You can’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Perfect—must be the bloodline.”
Ignoring the criticism with ease, Jun-seo continued admiring his chopstick-splitting skills.
Then he glanced at the chopsticks in Seok-ho’s hand and clicked his tongue.
“Look at that, hyung’s totally crooked. You see, objects that come to a person naturally follow their owner’s character. See? Even your chopsticks ended up like you.”
Wagging his index finger as if giving a lecture, Jun-seo looked utterly ridiculous.
Seok-ho stared at him with a pitiful gaze as he kept celebrating over a pair of broken chopsticks, then turned his head away.
Don’t bother paying attention to pointless things.
He decided it would be wiser to quietly focus on what he was doing.
“I’m having a bite too.”
As Seok-ho resumed using his chopsticks after a brief pause, Jun-seo shamelessly followed suit and picked up a piece of sweet-and-sour pork.
The way he wolfed it down like someone who hadn’t eaten in days was almost painful to watch.
Meanwhile, Jun-seo himself seemed very satisfied with the taste of the food he was freeloading off, judging by the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The timing really was perfect.
He had just finished his work and ordered jjajangmyeon to stave off hunger.
Normally he avoided eating inside the shop because he disliked the smell of food lingering, but today his stomach felt unusually empty, so he had done something he normally wouldn’t.
“Why did you come?”
When Seok-ho asked coldly, Jun-seo replied without a hint of hesitation.
“I was bored.”
A faint vein bulged on Seok-ho’s forehead.
“Get out.”
“Nope. Hang out with me, hyung. I’ve been studying nonstop with exam prep books lately—I feel like my brain’s going to melt.”
“This isn’t a place for you to come whenever you’re bored.”
“Come on, you think I came just because I was bored? I came because I missed you. And besides, you’re eating something delicious right now, so don’t say ‘get out’ right to someone’s face. Don’t live life so harshly.”
Speaking shamelessly, Jun-seo reached for another piece of sweet-and-sour pork.
“Wow, you even ordered sweet-and-sour pork when you’re eating alone. Just because you make good money, you’re indulging in all the luxuries, huh?”
“Not something I need to hear from someone who spends thousands on clothes.”
Sharp eyes swept Jun-seo from head to toe.
It wasn’t an empty remark—every piece of clothing he was wearing, though not flashy on the surface, was from well-known luxury brands.
Jun-seo grinned and reached for the jjajangmyeon as well.
“I’ll help myself to this too.”
Seok-ho let out an irritated sigh and slammed his chopsticks down with a sharp clack.
“You eat it all.”
Grinding the words between his teeth, he shoved the entire bowl toward Jun-seo with the back of his hand.
He had been eating perfectly fine by himself, and then this guy suddenly showed up and ruined his appetite.
“Thank you.”
Even with that, Jun-seo didn’t take the hint and pulled the bowl toward himself, starting his meal in earnest.
Watching him deliberately slurp the noodles loudly made Seok-ho’s gaze grow even colder.
I need a cigarette.
Leaning back deeply into the sofa, Seok-ho closed his eyes, which felt stiff as if the pressure behind them had risen.
“Ah, right. Hyung, should I tell you some interesting news?”
While he pressed his eyelids with his thumb and index finger as if massaging them, Jun-seo’s excited voice rang out.
