Jo Seong-il looked at Go Hoon with a curious expression and gave a nonchalant shrug.
“Well, I’m not exactly sure what you’re getting at, but… speaking from personal experience, you know how looking at cats can be kind of soothing? Like, when you see something cute, it makes your heart feel all warm and fuzzy.”
Warm and fuzzy when you see something cute? I don’t know about that. Sure, everyone has their own preferences, and that’s fair enough—but if that’s all it is, then Bae Jung-yoon’s behavior seems way over the top.
When Hoon didn’t say anything—clearly not agreeing—Jo Seong-il quickly floated another theory.
“Or maybe… he’s just lonely?”
Lonely? Bae Jung-yoon? Not likely. Could someone like him even feel loneliness?
He never seemed to place much value on family. You could tell from how he talked about his grandmother who passed away from cancer. Bae Jung-yoon spoke about his own family like he was sharing a stranger’s sob story.
Can someone like that even experience loneliness?
On top of that, he’s got money, plenty of friends, and people constantly trying to get close to him. He lives the kind of life most people envy.
And that time Hoon asked him if he was ever bullied in school—he laughed like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. Judging by that reaction, it didn’t seem like he had any hidden scars from his school days either.
“Can you really feel lonely when you have everything?”
“Sure you can.”
Jo Seong-il somehow caught Hoon’s muttered words and responded right away, nodding as if to confirm his own thought.
“Honestly, having everything might make you more lonely.”
A life so full it becomes empty. To Go Hoon, that was an alien concept—completely beyond his reach. His memories were marked by one kind of lack or another, every step of the way.
“I mean, think about it. These days, you see all these people who seem to have it all—money, fame, everything—and then they end up on the news for drug use. Why? Because when life is too easy, it starts to feel pointless. You feel hollow inside. You get lonely.”
“…Maybe.”
Hoon replied in a low voice, chin resting on his hand. Jo Seong-il nodded enthusiastically and tossed out another idea.
“Or maybe there’s something missing in his life—something no one else knows about.”
Something missing in Bae Jung-yoon’s life. Well… he definitely has his flaws. His personality’s a little… yeah.
But from Hoon’s point of view, neither of Jo Seong-il’s theories really hit the mark. He just couldn’t figure Bae Jung-yoon out. The guy was an unsolvable puzzle.
That lingering mystery stayed with him—even when they had lunch together that day, and later that evening when they came back to the officetel.
Arms tightly crossed, Go Hoon stared at the man sitting comfortably in front of him, calmly reading a book. He had to feel that gaze, but he acted completely oblivious. Or maybe… maybe he liked being watched.
“Why are you so obsessed with Kkongddeok-i?”
The question came out of nowhere.
Saying the name ‘Kkongddeok-i’ always made Hoon feel weird—like he was turning into one of those people who refer to themselves in the third person to sound cute. It made his skin crawl. Still, he kept his tone deliberately flat, as if he were asking about someone else’s pet.
Since he couldn’t make sense of it himself, he decided to confront it head-on. Only then did Bae Jung-yoon finally lift his head to look at him.
“Me?”
But instead of looking caught off guard, he just stared back with an expression like, ‘Am I?’ That innocent look made Hoon feel like he was the one overreacting—like he was projecting and blaming the wrong person.
But the truth was, Bae Jung-yoon’s affection for Kkongddeok-i was excessive. So Hoon doubled down.
“If that’s not obsession, then what is?”
There was no other word for it. It definitely wasn’t normal affection—it was obsession. But, once again, Bae Jung-yoon just gave a smug, shameless reply.
“It’s love.”
Love. The way he said it was so casual, completely devoid of sincerity.
“Bullshit.”
Naturally, Hoon couldn’t believe a word of it.
Love? What a joke. It was laughable—so fake it made his skin crawl. But Bae Jung-yoon didn’t seem fazed at all by his scorn.
“I mean it. In my whole life, I’ve never seen a cat as lovable as you are, Kkongddeok-ah.”
“Don’t say creepy shit like that, you bastard.”
When Hoon grimaced, Bae Jung-yoon laughed, clearly amused. Then the smugness faded from his face. He let out a short breath through his nose and looked momentarily thoughtful. After a brief pause, he spoke again, his tone a little more subdued.
“I think… maybe it’s because you remind me of the cat my mom used to have.”
“Me?”
Hoon pointed at himself. Bae Jung-yoon stared at him for a moment, then gave a little snort of laughter. That’s when Hoon realized—the way he looked now, as a human, had nothing in common with a cat.
Of course he looked ridiculous, pointing at his own face so confidently. No wonder Bae Jung-yoon laughed. The more Hoon thought about it, the more embarrassed he felt. His cheeks started to burn.
Go Hoon shot him a sour look, but Bae Jung-yoon simply met his gaze with those pitch-black eyes and, after a long moment, gave an easy nod.
“You look like that cat.”
So there’s a story behind it. A cat that looked like him…
“You must’ve really liked that cat, huh?”
Otherwise, why else would he be so obsessed with someone just because of a resemblance? But once again, Bae Jung-yoon’s answer caught him off guard.
“No.”
“…You didn’t?”
“Nope.”
Go Hoon blinked in disbelief. “Why not?”
Bae Jung-yoon let out a low hum, then answered casually, as if it were nothing.
“Because that cat hated me. A lot.”
…Ah. That explained it. Go Hoon suddenly felt an odd sense of solidarity with that cat. So even animals found this guy annoying, huh? Every time he looked at that unreadable face, he wondered the same thing.
Seeing an opportunity, Go Hoon narrowed his eyes and smirked.
“You know how animals sense disasters early—like earthquakes and stuff? Maybe they’re also better at sniffing out people’s true nature. That’s probably why it couldn’t stand you.”
He laid on the sarcasm thick, curious to see how Bae Jung-yoon would react.
“Could be.”
But instead of getting flustered, Bae Jung-yoon just shrugged and accepted it coolly. It was anticlimactic.
Go Hoon deflated. The satisfaction of teasing someone came from watching them get riled up—but this guy just took it in stride, and the tension evaporated.
Why doesn’t anything get to him? Go Hoon wanted to see him shaken for once. But Bae Jung-yoon was always calm, always composed, and it was starting to wear him down.
His tone softened a little as he asked again,
“Then why the obsession? If you didn’t even like the cat?”
“You remember I told you that one day the cat just disappeared?”
The story came back to him. One day the cat got sick, went to the vet—and that was the last he ever saw of it.
“How would you feel if something that had always been there—something you thought was yours—just vanished one day, without a trace?”
Those clear, glassy eyes stared straight at him. Go Hoon couldn’t bring himself to answer. That gaze—it was suffocating.
Maybe as a child, he hadn’t fully understood what was happening. But thinking back now, it was entirely possible that Bae Jung-yoon’s mother had chosen silence over telling her young son the cat had died—hoping to protect him from the shock.
If you looked at it that way, the emotion most people would associate with the memory was grief. Even if he hadn’t liked the cat much, it had still been part of his childhood.
But Bae Jung-yoon was different. He tilted his head slightly, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips.
“I was furious. At the whole situation.”
That sweet smile paired with such bitter words—it was jarring. Disorienting. He didn’t stop there, either.
“That’s why I’m not letting go this time.”
No matter what. No matter what it takes.
He whispered it like a vow. And somehow, the words tightened around Go Hoon’s throat—like the collar Bae Jung-yoon had once given him.
***
[Class canceled.]
Go Hoon stared at the most eye-catching part of the text message he’d just received, then scratched at his cheek.
One of his lectures had been suddenly canceled, leaving him with an unexpectedly free day.
Bae Jung-yoon probably doesn’t have anything going on either… Should I ask him to grab an early lunch? He stared down at his phone, debating.
But then he shook his head. There was no need to go out of his way. That guy practically had his entire schedule memorized—he’d figure it out soon enough. He always showed up like he had a sixth sense about where Go Hoon was.
I wonder if he already knows about the canceled class. In a way, it felt like a test.
And right on cue—like saying his name had summoned him—he spotted him in the distance, crossing the street.
“Hey! Bae Jung-yoon!”
Go Hoon raised his hand and waved before he even realized it. But the other didn’t seem to notice. He just kept walking briskly on those long legs of his.
Go Hoon hurried to catch up. That’s when he noticed someone standing ahead of him.
As he followed, his pace gradually slowed—until he came to a complete stop.
So he had plans today. Someone was clearly waiting for him.
The man stood out—though not in a good way. Baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses on—clearly trying not to be recognized. But the outfit only made him stand out even more.
The man kept his head down as he spoke to Bae Jung-yoon, scanning his surroundings anxiously. And for just a moment, Go Hoon caught a glimpse of his face—familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar.
