“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
His gentle voice struck a painful contrast to all the threats Haram had been enduring. That contrast only made the emotions well up harder. As he hung his head, on the verge of bursting into tears, a warm hand touched his trembling shoulder.
Feeling Tae-yi’s hand gently stroke his shoulder, Haram slowly lifted his head—and the moment he saw Tae-yi’s worried eyes, the tears spilled over. Large drops fell from his wide eyes, leaving Tae-yi speechless for a beat before he gently patted Haram’s shaking shoulders and asked,
“Did they threaten you?”
The tenderness in his voice and the reassuring weight of his hand made Haram sob as he nodded.
“Hnn… Y-yeah…”
“Was it the guy with the glasses?”
“Uh-huh… sob… How did you… know?”
Still crying, Haram looked up at him, and Tae-yi wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumb as he answered,
“I peeked.”
Tae-yi was brutally honest. That bluntness nearly made Haram let out a tearful laugh. The tears dried up quickly. Once he’d sat Haram down on the couch, Tae-yi sat beside him, looking down gently as he asked,
“How long have they been coming around?”
“Over a month now… It’s been almost two…”
Haram didn’t know why he was being asked, but whenever he met Tae-yi’s gaze, the words just flowed out. He’d been bottling everything up, but with someone finally there to listen, it all came spilling out.
“What did the guy with the glasses say to you?”
“Hic… next week… hnn…”
At the memory of the threats, tears started falling again. As Haram choked up, unable to continue, Tae-yi resumed patting his shoulder to comfort him.
It had been nearly two months now. Kang Tae-jin’s petty patience must’ve been wearing thin. That’s probably why he’d sent his secretary down here. The nature of the threats was obvious. And if those didn’t work on Da Haram, then what would come next was even more obvious.
Da Haram—an orphaned, land-tending farmer in the countryside. A man with no family, no protection.
Someone who could disappear without a trace, and no one would notice. He could end up buried in his precious peanut field instead of peanuts, or be flattened under the hill behind the farm when they leveled it to build the resort.
There were plenty of ways to make it happen.
But Tae-yi couldn’t let the man who’d once saved him end up like that. Haram was too important. So important, in fact, that he had to clench his teeth just to stop himself from pulling the man into his arms.
Tae-yi lowered the hand that had been patting Haram’s narrow shoulder and gazed down at him. If he wanted to help, if he wanted to stand by whatever decision Haram made, he had to be honest—at least to some extent.
He looked down at Haram’s small hand, clenching nothing but air, unable to reach for him. Then he reached out and stroked Haram’s narrow back before pulling him gently into an embrace.
“Hnn… sob.”
The moment Haram buried his face into that sturdy chest, the tears didn’t stop—they welled up harder. He tightened his arms around Tae-yi’s waist, wrapping them around him tightly. Tae-yi returned the gesture, gently stroking his silvery hair and running a soothing hand along his back, again and again.
As the sobbing gradually subsided, the sound of sniffling became softer. Tae-yi, carefully sweeping Haram’s hair aside to avoid his protruding ears, called his name.
“Da Haram.”
It was the first time Tae-yi, who always called him Sky Squirrel, had actually said his name.
Heavy from all the crying, Haram lifted his head. Tae-yi’s eyes were filled with warmth.
“Come with me.”
With you? Come with you?
That unfamiliar offer—something no one had ever made before—didn’t feel entirely welcome. It just left him bewildered.
“W-where…? Why…?”
Tae-yi heard the wavering voice thick with tears and led Haram into the kitchen. He mixed warm water into some barley tea taken from the fridge and handed it to him, saying,
“Drink this first.”
The sudden offer had left Haram flustered, but the moment he saw the cup, he realized how thirsty he was. After steadying his breath, he took the warm barley tea and drank, all the while sneaking glances at Tae-yi.
What did he mean by “come with me”? Did he mean go to Seoul? Or was he just being polite before heading back?
“Finish the whole cup.”
“O-okay…”
As he gulped down the generously poured barley tea, his mind slowly started to clear. Crying in front of someone like that—it hadn’t happened since his grandmother’s funeral. And now he’d cried in Tae-yi’s arms, bawling like a child. It must’ve been because Tae-yi’s touch was so incredibly gentle.
The shame hit him afterward. Fidgeting with the empty cup, Haram hesitantly asked,
“What did you mean? When you said come with you…”
Tae-yi took the cup and placed it in the sink, flashing a small smile.
“To give my squirrel a tour of Seoul.”
I don’t really like Seoul… I don’t like the city… And I’m a sky squirrel, not just a regular squirrel…
Tae-yi looked at Haram’s drooping tail and added,
“I lied.”
“Hmm…?”
That unexpected line stopped the tears completely. Haram blinked through his surprise.
“…What lie?”
He looked up at Tae-yi with anxious eyes.
“I said I was being chased by loan sharks. That wasn’t true.”
“…Then?”
“It’s my older brother. He wants to kill me.”
The chilling statement was delivered so calmly, it left Haram reeling. What was this, a soap opera? A brother wanting to kill his own sibling—was that something people said this casually?
“You’re joking… right?”
Tae-yi went quiet for a moment in the face of Haram’s disbelief, then answered,
“I’m not. I’m sorry for lying.”
Clutching the hem of his white t-shirt tightly in both hands, Haram looked up at Tae-yi and asked,
“Why… why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I have to leave eventually.”
In the sparsely furnished living room, Haram’s deep inhale echoed. Tears threatened to well up again. Even though he’d known—had sensed it all along—the words still unsettled him.
“Your brother… why does he want to kill you?”
It didn’t make sense. But Tae-yi’s serious expression made it impossible to dismiss as a lie.
“There’s only one seat to inherit from our father, but there are two sons.”
Tae-yi had never wanted that seat. It didn’t suit him. He’d always preferred being out in the field, cleaning up messes. The position of chairman just meant endless rounds of golf meetings, liquor toasts, and playing political games. It was boring.
But the other executives had different ideas. After their father suddenly collapsed, many of them preferred Tae-yi—viewed him as more capable than the incompetent Kang Tae-jin. And Tae-jin knew that. That’s why he was doing everything he could to eliminate him.
Haram blinked at Tae-yi’s explanation, still confused, then carefully asked,
“So… you’re okay now? Is it safe to go to Seoul?”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
“Why… why are you asking me to go with you? Not just for sightseeing…”
He didn’t mind that Tae-yi had lied. There had to be a reason for it. After all, having a brother trying to kill you wasn’t exactly normal. Still, inviting Haram along now—just what did it mean?
“To protect my Sky Squirrel.”
That answer was even more bewildering than the one about sightseeing. Haram tilted his head and asked again,
“Me? Why would I need protecting?”
“Yeah, you’re in danger.”
Tae-yi answered steadily, meeting Haram’s wide, startled eyes as he gently smoothed the messy fringe from his face.
“Why? Because of the loan shark guy?”
“No, not him. The guy with the glasses.”
And behind him… Kang Tae-jin.
“You know that guy?”
“Yeah. I know him well.”
Tae-yi opened the document envelope Haram had been clutching when he ran in crying. He handled it like it was his own, pulling out the papers inside. Haram, peeking over curiously, asked,
“Who is he? What does he do?”
“He’s from Changi Construction.”
He held up the front page, showing off the company name and logo, both bearing the name of Tae-yi’s grandfather, Chairman Kang Changi.
Only then did Haram look properly at the envelope. Changi Construction? So he really was from a construction company… But then, how did Tae-yi know him?
“How do you know him?”
“He’s someone I know through work.”
Tae-yi conveniently left out the fact that they worked at the same company and casually flipped through the papers. As Haram studied him, he cautiously asked,
“You’re… not just some regular office worker, are you?”
The whole “fighting for a seat with your brother” thing clearly wasn’t some childish desk-sharing dispute. No, this was a power struggle. Tae-yi wasn’t just some office drone.
“I get a paycheck. That makes me an office worker.”
Still dodging the question.
Haram stared for a long time before he finally grasped the truth—and along with it, a splitting headache. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly opened them again, only to find Tae-yi gazing right at him, brow furrowed.
“Are you okay? Are you in pain?”
“No… but why am I the one in danger? I’m the landowner…”
“Are you going to sell the land?”
“I… don’t know…”
The defiance he’d had before was clearly fading. Which meant Kang Tae-jin’s secretary’s threats were working. Tch. Tae-yi clicked his tongue, then gently cupped Haram’s flushed cheek before touching his forehead.
“You’ve got a fever.”
“It’s ‘cause I was crying.”
Haram flinched away, brushing Tae-yi’s hand off and awkwardly rubbing his own cheeks. At some point, they’d grown way too comfortable with physical contact. It felt unfamiliar—too intimate.
Tae-yi quietly watched Haram inch away, then said,
“I’ll help you. Stay with me for a while.”
