After eating, Kang Sihyeon returned to the dorm as if fleeing and looked around the room he hadn’t had the chance to properly examine before, finding it fascinating. Ban Haru stuck close to his side as they checked out the bathroom and the terrace together. At that big-dog-like presence, Sihyeon reached out and stroked Haru’s hair.
Haru, who had discovered the terrace hidden behind the curtains, let out a small exclamation. It was the same reaction Sihyeon had shown.
Come to think of it, it had been like that in the cafeteria earlier too.
At the buffet, the only ones who had frozen in surprise were Sihyeon and Haru. Unlike the Four Heavenly Kings, who walked in as if they were used to a place like that, Haru had stood there blankly alongside him. Recalling that, Sihyeon quietly observed him. Now that he thought about it, Haru—with the surname Ban—had quite a few subtly suspicious points.
Of course, it could just be prejudice. But Ban wasn’t exactly a common surname. For the name Haru to follow Ban so naturally—Sihyeon’s 10 years of experience with internet novels was flashing warning signals. With a subtle, conflicted feeling, he looked at Haru, and sensing his gaze, Haru turned his head. His long bangs fell down, obstructing their line of sight from properly meeting.
While Sihyeon silently watched him, the door opened.
“I’m so full I feel like I’m gonna die!”
The quiet and peaceful room instantly became noisy.
Normally, when someone was full and warm, they would get sleepy—but Kang Haeun, having filled his stomach, started rampaging like a madman.
“I’m bored~.”
“Ah, seriously, go play by yourself.”
“Min, are you mad right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Kyaa, how forceful!”
“…Ha.”
At the absurd exchange, Lee Hamin let out a sigh. Sihyeon, genuinely relieved that Haeun wasn’t targeting him, looked at the visibly tired Hamin with a sympathetic gaze. At first, Hamin had just seemed annoyingly unpleasant, but seeing him stuck dealing with that now made him look a little pitiful.
Right then, Haeun’s gaze suddenly turned toward Sihyeon. Sensing danger, Sihyeon quickly got up, grabbed a towel and underwear from the wardrobe, and slipped into the bathroom.
“I’ll wash up first.”
Noticing that Haeun was about to switch targets to him, he shut himself inside. A faint click of Haeun’s tongue, sounding disappointed, could be heard. As if cutting that off, Sihyeon closed the door, exhaled briefly, and turned on the shower. Out of habit, he twisted the faucet too far toward hot, and steaming water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower.
Drip—!
As the water hit his head, Sihyeon jolted in shock and jumped. Unlike at home, where one had to wait for warm water, the dorm shower immediately produced water at the desired temperature. In that brief moment, his body had already turned bright red, and he hurriedly switched it to cold. Splash—this time, cold water poured down over him. Only then did Sihyeon set the faucet to the middle.
After being forcibly introduced to both scalding hot and freezing cold water, he draped a towel around his neck and stepped out of the bathroom. Steam still lingered behind him, and in his view were Hamin, slumped as if resigned, and Haeun, who was still clinging to him.
Their relationship really was strange.
At first glance, it had seemed like Haeun was afraid of Hamin, but now it looked more like Hamin was letting him win. Or maybe… he wasn’t letting him win—maybe he was actually losing.
Still, they must be pretty close.
Thinking that, Sihyeon watched them as he dried his dripping hair with a towel.
Seeing that neither of them looked like they had any intention of washing, he sent Haru into the bathroom first and started drying his own hair. Before long, Haeun trotted over and took a seat behind him. When Haeun offered to dry his hair, Sihyeon refused and waited for Haru. A little later, when Haru came out, Sihyeon offered to dry his hair for him—but just like with Haeun, he was firmly rejected.
“I’ll do it myself….”
“…Alright, fine.”
It was the first time Haru had refused him. Sihyeon blinked and looked at him, then shrugged. Right—Haru only seemed like a fragile kid to him. To others, he was an 18-year-old, even a year older than Sihyeon. Instead of feeling hurt, Sihyeon handed over the dryer. Haru took it, lowered his head, and began drying his hair. His strands fluttered messily in the wind.
“Haru hyung, aren’t you thinking of cutting your hair?”
“H-huh?”
“It looks messy.”
Doesn’t it feel stuffy?
As Haeun casually chimed in as if they were close, Haru looked flustered. Seeing how troubled he seemed, Sihyeon considered stopping it—but he was also curious about the answer, so he waited. Haru, his face hidden behind his hair, moved his lips slightly.
“Not yet….”
“Then can you at least show it for a moment? I’m curious.”
“Cut it out.”
Unable to watch any longer as Haeun kept pressing him with uncomfortable questions, Sihyeon stepped in to stop him. Whirr—the dryer, which had paused, started up again. Sihyeon stared at Haeun with dry eyes, and Haeun pouted.
“You’re no fun!”
Haeun’s whining rang out. He had only heard it a few times, but it was already becoming familiar.
How had someone like him even become friends with them?
Haeun was childish, yet sometimes gave off a chilling feeling. One moment he looked cute and harmless, and the next he felt like a mischievous troublemaker. Sihyeon wondered how someone like him had become close with the other Four Heavenly Kings—then quickly remembered that all four of them were crazy in their own ways and accepted it. Birds of a feather flock together.
Baek Geonwoo did seem a little different, though.
Shaking off the passing thought, Sihyeon lay down on the bed. Later, when Haeun came out of the shower and suggested watching a movie together, Sihyeon was slightly tempted—but declined, thinking they weren’t close enough to sit side by side watching a movie.
Instead, Hamin got dragged into watching it with him. Nearby, Haru hovered awkwardly, fidgeting. Wondering if he wanted to watch too, Sihyeon pushed himself up from the bed.
The two large sofas placed side by side were big enough that even four more people could sit comfortably. Yet Haru wasn’t sitting, likely because he felt awkward. Sihyeon patted his shoulder.
“Do you want to watch the movie?”
“Ah… yeah.”
After hesitating, Haru slowly nodded. As expected, Sihyeon moved to the sofa opposite where Haeun and Hamin were sitting, took a seat on the empty one, and looked at Haru. When he silently watched him, Haru, after a moment’s hesitation, walked over and sat beside him. Immediately, Haeun complained about favoritism. Since it was favoritism, Sihyeon simply turned his attention to the screen.
The TV was a massive 75 inches, so even though the sofa was quite far away, the screen was easy to see. The movie that started seemed to reflect Haeun’s taste—it was heavily action-oriented.
The once noisy room grew quiet, filled only with the sound of the TV. As Sihyeon focused on the movie and the actors, he realized it was a crime thriller and frowned. He wondered if it was really appropriate for kids this young to be watching something like this. Glancing sideways, he saw Hamin—who had earlier said he didn’t want to—completely absorbed in the movie.
There was clear interest in his violet eyes. Watching him with an unreadable expression, Sihyeon turned his gaze back to the TV.
Two organizations struggling over drug trafficking finally clashed. A sedan skidded, and the executives of each group grabbed their steering wheels. It was the start of an absurd game of chicken.
Fueled by profit and pride, the cars sped forward. As their eyes met through the windshields, the vehicles collided head-on.
Bang!
At the deafening crash, Sihyeon’s shoulders flinched.
Of all things… why this?
Frowning, he tightened his grip on the pillow he was hugging. A dizzying memory flashed through his mind. His stomach churned slightly.
The headlights shattered, sparks flew, and in the end, both organizations died together—a typical B-grade movie ending. As the gloomy background music played and the credits rolled, Haeun, stretching his stiff body, brought life back into the quiet room.
“I watched it because the director’s last work was good, but this was seriously low-grade. Right?”
“…Then why are you picking up the remote again?”
“Ah, come on, watching just one feels unsatisfying.”
Despite his harsh critique, Haeun’s expression was bright. He claimed it was boring, yet didn’t look bored at all. Shaking his head, Sihyeon glanced at Haru. Meanwhile, Hamin snatched the remote from Haeun.
“Give it up, you lunatic.”
Now it was Haeun’s turn to go along with someone else. Hamin, having taken control, pressed the arrow buttons rapidly. The movie he selected turned out to be a romance.
So that’s his taste?
Thinking that, Sihyeon looked at him. As if they had planned it, Hamin turned his head and met Sihyeon’s eyes.
Their gazes locked. Sihyeon blinked.
What?
Reading his lips, Sihyeon didn’t respond and turned back to the screen. As expected—his bad personality hadn’t gone anywhere.
After finishing even Hamin’s romance movie, the number of people sprawled out increased from one to four. All of them lay stretched across the sofas, resting. Before long, an announcement rang out signaling dinner.
Unlike high school students who needed to eat all three meals a day, Sihyeon was someone who could feel full with just one meal.
He was still full from lunch, and after the movie they had just watched, he didn’t feel like eating anything. Returning to his bed, Sihyeon waved his hand at Haru, who was looking at him.
“I’m not going to eat. Hyung, you go ahead.”
“But….”
“It’s lonely to eat alone, right? Go eat with them. I just want to sleep.”
As he spoke in a soothing tone, Haru looked at him. In response, Sihyeon lay down and deliberately pulled the blanket up to cover half his face. Suddenly, Haru reached out. A warm hand touched Sihyeon’s forehead.
“…Are you sick?”
While Sihyeon’s eyes widened at the sudden contact, Haru moved his hand lightly over his forehead and asked. At the quiet question, Sihyeon replied that he wasn’t. Haru stood up, but still hesitated, unable to leave right away. After Sihyeon reassured him again, the door finally closed.
As soon as he confirmed Haru had left, Sihyeon shut his eyes. Scenes from the movie resurfaced. Trying not to dig into the memories that came crashing like waves, he accepted the fatigue and let out a breath.
The exhaustion from the Placement Test and dealing with the Four Heavenly Kings turned into drowsiness, pulling Sihyeon into sleep.
***
He thought he would have a nightmare. The sensation of being crushed was familiar, after all. So he was certain he would—but…
“Meeting again, huh?”
An unexpectedly familiar face greeted him.
“Why are you here?”
“I told you last time—if you enter my space, of course I’d be here.”
Blinking at the sudden situation, Sihyeon narrowed his eyes and examined Kang Sihyeon. He couldn’t tell whether this was a dream he had created or the real Kang Sihyeon. As he stared, the boy, sensing his thoughts, frowned.
“Why are you looking at me like I’m suspicious when I’m clearly standing right here? If anything’s an illusion, it’d be whatever you made over there.”
At the aggrieved tone, Sihyeon’s gaze followed to where the boy pointed. Wondering what was there, he looked—and his eyes widened again at the unexpected sight.
An uninvited presence stood there. One of them was even crying.
“Why are you crying?”
Hamin asked.
“None of your business.”
Dawoon replied.
“I asked why you’re crying.”
“I said it’s none of your business.”
“Is that all you ever say?”
“Then what else am I supposed to say?”
Dawoon snapped back sharply. Her once-beautiful brown eyes brimmed with tears. Watching her wipe her reddened eyes, Sihyeon instinctively took a step back. He had never seen Dawoon like this before. He couldn’t understand what was happening.
“What is that?”
“The illusion you made?”
Kang Sihyeon answered. Meanwhile, Hamin stepped closer to Dawoon, closing the distance between them until their breaths could almost touch. For some reason, Sihyeon swallowed.
“I’ll ask one last time. Why are you crying?”
“…I said it’s none of your business.”
“Jung Dawoon.”
“Why do you care so much? Who are you to care about me? Lee Hamin, who do you think you are…?”
Her fierce voice gradually wavered. Before she could finish, she broke down crying and raised her hand as if to hit him—but Hamin was faster, grabbing her wrist. As he tightened his grip, Dawoon shouted at him to let go. Watching silently, Sihyeon’s face drained of color. He flinched, turning pale.
“You’re the one who keeps making me care.”
…This is insane.
Sihyeon took another step back. His hands curled so tightly it felt like even his veins were twitching.
“I should be the one asking.”
Up to that point, Hamin spoke—and then pulled Dawoon’s hand to his chest. Sihyeon squeezed his eyes shut. Beside him, Kang Sihyeon let out an impressed “Oh~.” Even though Sihyeon covered his ears, Hamin’s voice still slipped through his fingers.
“Who are you… to keep making me care?”
Who are you… that my heart keeps reacting to you?
His indifferent voice marked the peak of an unbearable, cliché internet novel development. At the exact moment Sihyeon went into full shock—
“Gasp—!”
He woke up.
Throwing off the blanket, Sihyeon opened his eyes wide, staring at the ceiling with dilated pupils. Instead of the familiar pattern of his old ceiling, polished wood filled his vision. Only after a moment did he realize he had had a terrible nightmare. With a dumbfounded expression, he sat up.
The contents of the dream resurfaced.
Seriously.
Even for a ridiculous dream… this was on another level.
