He thought he’d thrown the umbrella away. It wasn’t something with sentimental value or a special backstory, nor was it a gift from someone—so there was no reason to hold onto it emotionally.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit bothered. It hadn’t been anything special, yet Seung-hyeon was the type to take good care of his things, no matter how trivial. It might’ve been because he was raised to never treat even the smallest item lightly, or perhaps it was just part of his nature.
Either way, it wasn’t healthy to dwell on something that wasn’t coming back. So Gwak Seung-hyeon deliberately shoved the memory of the umbrella he had handed to Gwak Seon-woo that day to the back of his mind.
But Seon-woo, who had been pushed into a forgotten corner of his thoughts, reappeared before Seung-hyeon’s eyes much sooner than expected.
Seung-hyeon often thought back on that day, but he could never quite recall what he had been thinking or doing in that moment. That was likely because the sight of Gwak Seon-woo had left such an intense impression. Unlike before, this meeting wasn’t a coincidence. Gwak Seon-woo had been standing right in front of the school gate, as if he had come there on purpose, waiting for him.
When Seung-hyeon spotted him outside the school gates, his first reaction was disbelief. At first, he thought he was mistaking him for someone else. But Seon-woo wasn’t someone you could easily mistake for anyone. He had a face so distinctive that once you saw him, you could never forget it. The way students passing by kept sneaking glances at him made it clear this wasn’t a trick of the eye.
He couldn’t think of a single reason why Seon-woo would come looking for him. Was he here to beat the crap out of him because he couldn’t stand him that much? That ridiculous thought flitted through Seung-hyeon’s mind as he took a closer look, trying to shake off the absurdity.
In his hand, Seon-woo was holding the umbrella Seung-hyeon had lent him. He had to blink a few times again in disbelief—but no, it was real.
As absurd as it seemed, there was no other explanation but that he had come to return the umbrella. The sight of Gwak Seon-woo standing outside his school, holding that umbrella with a disgruntled expression, felt so out of place it made Seung-hyeon want to laugh. He had just assumed the guy would throw it away. Did he really come all the way here just because he didn’t like owing people?
Still puzzled, Seung-hyeon smiled warmly and approached him. But the theory he’d just formed—that Gwak Seon-woo came to return the umbrella—was immediately thrown out the window.
The look on Seon-woo’s face as they stood face-to-face was furious. If someone had told him Seon-woo had come to stab him to death with that umbrella, Seung-hyeon might’ve believed it. Even so, he calmly asked without faltering:
“What brings you here, Seon-woo hyung?”
“Shut up. Who the hell are you calling hyung?”
The reply came out instantly.
Whatever—Seung-hyeon casually pointed at the umbrella in his hand with his index finger. Even if he’d said ‘Good afternoon’ instead of ‘Seon-woo hyung’, Seon-woo probably would’ve snapped back with, ‘Shut up. Who the hell are you to greet me?’ So it was better not to care.
“You came all this way just to return the umbrella?”
“Who, me? Have you completely lost it?”
At Seung-hyeon’s innocent-sounding question, Gwak Seon-woo scoffed in response.
When he’d kept his mouth shut, he’d looked like a kid who’d had his candy unfairly snatched away—but now, with him cursing and sneering, he looked more like a villain from a Saturday morning cartoon than any child.
Had the impressions from that first encounter—and the one on that rainy day—just been tricks of the eye?
While Seung-hyeon pondered this, Seon-woo continued in a menacing tone.
“I’ll let it slide this once. Don’t ever pull that cocky shit again.”
All this just for lending someone an umbrella. From the rage on Seon-woo’s face, anyone watching might’ve thought Seung-hyeon had spat in his face or hurled some grave insult. But all he had done was hand him an umbrella. Honestly, it was kind of a fascinating experience.
What kind of twisted pride is that, even?
When Seung-hyeon didn’t show much of a reaction to his threat, Seon-woo seemed even more pissed. With a cold smirk, he stomped on the umbrella. It wasn’t even made of a flimsy material, but he crushed it so hard it snapped in an instant.
He’d kept it intact all this time, only to come all the way to the school gate just to destroy it in front of its owner. What kind of logic was that? Seung-hyeon didn’t even know how to respond. All he could do was chalk it up to a seriously warped personality.
Snorting again, Seon-woo turned and walked away.
“Next time, it won’t just be the umbrella.”
Seung-hyeon instinctively stepped back, though not out of fear. His voice had been chilling enough to scare someone, sure—but more than that, it was just the sheer drama of Seon-woo’s line that caught him off guard, like something straight out of a TV show.
Before he realized it, Seon-woo was already striding through the school gate. Seung-hyeon alternated between staring at the broken umbrella ribs and Seon-woo’s retreating back, then scratched his head in confusion.
He knew getting close to someone like family wouldn’t be easy. Still, he’d thought maybe—maybe, if he tried hard enough, something might work out. It had been a vague, baseless hope.
But getting closer to someone like Seon-woo had nothing to do with how well Seung-hyeon acted or how hard he tried. The truth was, Gwak Seon-woo just really hated him. And it wasn’t even for any particular reason. It was… just because.
Admitting that wasn’t all that difficult. Still, it left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.
Feeling a little sheepish, Seung-hyeon silently picked up the broken umbrella. A friend who had come out after him looked puzzled.
“Wait—isn’t that the umbrella you said you lost? You found it?”
“‘Found it’ is… not exactly the word,”
Seung-hyeon muttered, lowering his gaze in thought. Then, ignoring his friend’s bewildered look, he gave a small, quiet smile.
“Go on ahead. I’m gonna toss this.”
Maybe he had just misunderstood Gwak Seon-woo altogether. Thinking there might be some soft, kind, or even cute side to him—that had been nothing more than a fantasy he’d made up on his own. It wasn’t fair to be disappointed just because the real Seon-woo didn’t match that fantasy.
Without a second thought, Gwak Seung-hyeon threw the broken umbrella away.
***
In the years that followed, Seung-hyeon never saw Gwak Seon-woo again. Even though he continued passing by the front gate of the neighboring school where that incident had taken place, he never once ran into him.
Back then, Seon-woo had already been in his third year of high school, most likely busy with entrance exams. So it made sense that he wouldn’t be hanging around the school gates much. If he had made the effort to wait deliberately, he might’ve caught a glimpse of him at least once. But Seung-hyeon had never been inclined to go that far. Unlike Gwak Seon-woo, who had waited in front of someone else’s school just to break an umbrella in their face, Seung-hyeon didn’t have that kind of stubborn persistence.
Then he heard the news that Gwak Seon-woo had gone abroad to study. It wasn’t that he’d gotten into one of the top universities in Korea—he had left the country altogether. Hearing that made Seung-hyeon feel, all over again, that Seon-woo really was a third-generation chaebol.
Before long, Seung-hyeon himself became busy preparing for college entrance exams. Once he got into university, life there kept him too occupied to think of anything else. And after that came mandatory military service, so he had even less time to spare.
The image of his cousin—with that vicious expression as he stomped the umbrella—lingered faintly in his mind and would sometimes surface on rainy days, but beyond that, it was safe to say he had mostly faded from memory.
His relationship with his stepfather wasn’t bad. In fact, it was quite good. He wanted to fulfill his responsibilities as a father, but he never forced closeness or made overbearing gestures. It was clear he wanted to be called Dad, but he never once brought it up aloud—not even after several years. In a way, that restraint was what made the relationship comfortable.
Seung-hyeon vaguely remembered that the first time he called him Dad was sometime after he’d become a university student. It was around then that he’d started thinking—If this is what our relationship looks like, maybe it’s not so bad after all.
Every year, his mom and stepfather went on vacation together. Seung-hyeon usually excused himself from family trips, claiming he was too busy. But that year was different. He’d only just gotten discharged from the army, so the word vacation was enough to tempt him. And his parents had made it pretty obvious that they wanted him to come along, even if they pretended otherwise. So when they suggested a trip to the beach, he readily agreed.
His stepfather liked to play cheerful songs in the car. A chaebol heir listening to trot—it wasn’t a combination that made much sense. But with his easy going personality, it felt oddly fitting. Still, if it had been Gwak Seon-woo instead of him…
The name suddenly popped into Seung-hyeon’s mind, and he drifted into thought. Strangely enough, his mother spoke up at almost that exact moment.
“Come to think of it, honey.”
“Hm?”
“How’s your nephew doing these days?”
Nephew—that could only mean Gwak Seon-woo. Feigning disinterest, Seung-hyeon casually turned his head toward them.
“Ah, Seon-woo. I actually heard he came back to Korea not too long ago, but it sounds like he’s insanely busy.”
It had been a long time since he’d heard any news about him. The name had practically disappeared from his world, but now that it had resurfaced, he realized he was curious. As he kept listening, he learned that Seon-woo had already graduated from college and returned to Korea—already immersed in company work. Even though they were technically family, it felt like hearing about someone from a completely different world.
What did he look like now? Did he still have that strangely childlike quality, like he had when they first met? Or was he still that self-absorbed storm of a person, like the last time they’d crossed paths?
Seung-hyeon couldn’t deny that he was curious. But if he had known how they would meet again—He would’ve wished they never saw each other again at all.
