Rumors that Seung-hyeon’s mother had remarried had spread before anyone even said it out loud. No one knew exactly where it started, but somehow, Seung-hyeon’s friends had even figured out that the man she married was a second-generation chaebol—someone whose name alone would ring a bell.
Though they had managed to hold their tongues until school let out, their bottled-up curiosity finally exploded once they stepped outside the gates.
“So, what’s it like—being part of a chaebol family? Is it really like those drama shows and stuff?”
At the question tossed out by one of his friends on the way home, Seung-hyeon turned his head. Wearing a smile that betrayed no real emotion, he met the boy’s gaze. At first glance, it just looked like innocent curiosity. But if you looked closer, there was something else mixed in—a subtle gleam in the eyes, thick with jealousy and envy.
It was almost easy to guess what kind of emotions were bubbling beneath the surface. To say he wasn’t bothered would be a lie, but it wasn’t enough to seriously irritate him either. Still smiling, Seung-hyeon replied,
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
Maybe the kid had expected him to start bragging, because he suddenly looked awkward and unsure.
“Y’know… stuff like throwing money around, acting all high and mighty…”
Yet even as he mumbled, he didn’t seem ready to give up on getting an answer. Seung-hyeon let the rest of his rambling drift past his ears, though he did briefly think about it.
His new stepfather was the polar opposite of the way chaebols were usually portrayed in the media. He was down-to-earth, never flashy about his wealth, and didn’t act superior. If you really wanted to find a real-life version of a chaebol from a drama, it wouldn’t be Seung-hyeon’s stepfather who fit that mold…
“What’s wrong?”
Seung-hyeon had suddenly stopped walking, prompting his friends to glance back at him in confusion. They were standing in front of the gates of the neighboring school—a place they passed by all the time on their way home, so there wasn’t anything particularly unusual about it. Except that today, someone he never expected to see was walking across the field toward the gate. Naturally, Seung-hyeon froze in his tracks.
He locked eyes on Gwak Seon-woo, who was heading toward the gate, unaware that Seung-hyeon was watching him.
So he went to this school. There was no reason to say anything—they didn’t exactly have a friendly relationship, and Seung-hyeon had no excuse to start a conversation anyway.
Just as he was thinking that, a raindrop hit the bridge of his nose. Then another on his shoulder, another on his hair, his cheek— A sudden downpour, as if timed for dramatic effect.
Seung-hyeon quickly opened his bag and pulled out his umbrella. Fortunately, at least one of his friends had brought theirs, too. After checking that, he smiled faintly and popped his open.Then, his eyes naturally drifted back toward the field, to where Gwak Seon-woo still stood.
For some reason, it was hard to imagine him pulling out an umbrella now that it had started to rain. Sure enough, Seon-woo hadn’t moved. He made no attempt to get his umbrella. Just stood there, unmoving. A boy standing still in the rain, his face slightly contorted, brushing back his soaked hair. He didn’t even try to shield himself with his bag or use his clothes to block the rain.
Seung-hyeon watched, a faint smile lingering at the corner of his lips—but the feeling inside was strange and unfamiliar. The fact that he and that guy were now family, of all things. That out of all possible places, they happened to run into each other in front of this school gate.
It was all strange, all surreal. But more than anything… curiosity came first.
“Hyung. So, are you just gonna stand there and take all that rain without an umbrella?”
With that, Seung-hyeon pushed his friends away.
“Go on ahead.”
“What?”
His friends looked bewildered by the sudden command. But Seung-hyeon reached out and gave them a firm shove, his voice sharper this time.
“Now. Go.”
Maybe it was because he never acted like this, or maybe they just figured it wasn’t worth pushing back. Either way, they hurried off in a fluster, huddled together under one umbrella as they ran toward the bus stop.
Seung-hyeon glanced briefly over his shoulder to watch them go, then turned his gaze back to Gwak Seon-woo. He ran toward him, straight through the thickening downpour.
Seon-woo, who’d been trudging forward as if he meant to walk right through the rain, lifted his head in confusion when a shadow suddenly fell across his path. And the moment their eyes met, his face twisted with visible distaste.
Even in the face of such blatant hostility, Seung-hyeon didn’t flinch. Instead, he calmly held the umbrella out over Seon-woo’s head.
Seon-woo’s glare was practically venomous, like he had a hundred bitter words ready to spit out. And inside Seung-hyeon’s head, thoughts began to race.
He always looks at me like that—like a kid who just got a lollipop snatched away. It’s not simple hatred. It’s the look of someone on guard. Does he think I stole the man he thought of as a father?
The thought made Seung-hyeon chuckle to himself. Even when he first heard that his mother was getting remarried, he never once imagined they’d become some real, loving family. And he definitely had no intentions of treating his stepfather’s son like an actual brother. Especially when that “son” wasn’t even really his son—just a nephew who was like a son.
But when he looked at Seon-woo… strange thoughts started to creep in.
Don’t think I stole your family. Who knows? Maybe I could become your real family. Your first sibling…
Before Seon-woo could speak, Seung-hyeon beat him to it.
“You’re really just standing here in the rain.”
Seon-woo always looked like he had a million things he wanted to say to him—but somehow, none of it ever made it past his lips.
Maybe he was still choosing his words.
So Seung-hyeon made up his mind: he’d act before Seon-woo had the chance to respond. With a smile, he pressed the umbrella into Seon-woo’s hand and quickly said,
“You’ll catch a cold. Use it, hyung.”
Once again, that face—so cold, so rigid—seemed full of unspoken things.
Every time he looked at that expression, Seung-hyeon wondered if he’d misunderstood something… if he was misreading what he saw. But right now, he didn’t want to find out whether he was mistaken or not.
He turned and walked off the field.
In just a few moments, the rain had become a downpour. He made a quick visor with his hand and sprinted toward the bus stop. As he ran, a question tugged at him.
Among all the words Seon-woo probably wanted to say, was there a response to what he’d said about catching a cold? In that cold, unreadable expression… Was there maybe, even just a little bit, a silent “What about you?” hidden in there?
Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Maybe it was the kind of thought that only came from Seung-hyeon’s own assumptions about Gwak Seon-woo. But even knowing that… it still made him feel strangely happy.
When Seung-hyeon got home, he ran into his mother right away. She looked genuinely surprised to see him soaked from head to toe, especially since he always made sure to carry an umbrella.
“What happened? Where’s your umbrella? Didn’t you take it with you?”
“I did. It’s always in my bag.”
“Then did you lose it somewhere?”
He hadn’t planned on telling her the truth anyway, so maybe just saying “yes” would’ve been the easiest route. But instead, Seung-hyeon shook his head gently.
“No. I gave it to someone.”
He saw her expression soften a little.
Just as expected. She was kind by nature. If he told her he gave it to someone else, she’d feel sorry for her rain-soaked son, but she wouldn’t get mad or dig too deep. Still, a short follow-up came.
“Who’d you give it to? Did a friend forget theirs?”
“Kinda,” he replied. “But not really a friend…”
Jeong-hee gave him a look, slightly furrowing her brows, like she was thinking either it’s a friend or it’s not—what do you mean ‘kinda’?
The thought made him smile. And when the inevitable “Then who was it?” came, Seung-hyeon simply shrugged and said,
“Dunno. A weird person?”
With that, he said he needed a shower and headed into the bathroom.
So the questions stopped there.
He hadn’t lied. To Seung-hyeon, Gwak Seon-woo was undeniably a strange person. He’d seen plenty of people lash out from inferiority, burn with envy, or try to belittle him. Growing up just with his mother after his father died had put him in a unique position—one that made him stand out, for better or worse. Some people would mock him for not having a dad, calling him a bastard. Others would be jealous of how capable or polished he was, despite that. Since he understood all those emotions came from a place of inferiority, he eventually stopped being bothered by it.
It wasn’t even annoying anymore—just a little irritating, a lot disgusting, and above all, kind of laughable. By that measure, Gwak Seon-woo might not be so different. The way he hated Seung-hyeon wasn’t blind animosity—it was more like the childish jealousy of someone who’d had their candy stolen.
It was strange and fascinating that a boy with that kind of face and presence would harbor such feelings. And yet, compared to the contempt and jealousy he’d experienced from others… it didn’t feel all that bad.
He had a vague idea why.
If Seon-woo’s jealousy was strong enough to be about his uncle, then it was obvious what kind of relationship he’d had with him.
Practically nonexistent.
Maybe that prediction sparked a sense of shared experience. Maybe that’s why it didn’t feel bitter.
And maybe, just maybe…
“That’s a ridiculous thought.”
He said it out loud just to make it clear to himself. But nothing felt clearer after saying it.
