“Chirp?”
I didn’t run away, okay?
Da Haram shook his tiny face from side to side in protest.
He had long since given up the idea of staying alone in a rural house without security after seeing Tae-yi come home injured from a knife wound yesterday. He’d quickly realized just how dangerous the situation really was. Haram had planned to stay with Tae-yi for a few more days… but now, he watched Tae-yi’s anxious expression closely. The sheer panic on Tae-yi’s face as he rushed over, thinking Haram had run away, left him speechless.
“If you want to go back to the countryside, go with me. Don’t go flying off on your own and try to escape—it’s dangerous.”
What if you sit on a power pole and get electrocuted? Seoul isn’t like the countryside where you grew up. You were lucky to make it back safe last time.
Tae-yi began his lecture, thinly veiled as concern, and rambled on to the point Haram’s ears could practically bleed. As he blinked those round eyes over and over, staring intensely at Da Haram, Tae-yi finally let out a heavy sigh.
“I’m not asking you to wait until I finish everything. Just give me a bit more time until I wrap things up. I’ll let you go then. Just hang in there a little longer.”
He gently lowered Da Haram, whom he’d been cradling with such care, and added softly. Haram remained silent, his lips pressed together, still caught in a storm of confusion. Tae-yi stood up, resisting the urge to reach out and pet him.
“Make sure you eat properly.”
Tae-yi turned away, as if to leave, but instead, his steps took him naturally toward the cherry tomatoes growing in the garden’s corner. Haram watched him intently as he tended to them, never forgetting to water them. His heart began to pound again, loud and unsteady in his ears.
The cherry tomatoes, now visibly flourishing even from afar, seemed to reflect all the care they’d received.
Why does he treat me so delicately?
Even if he didn’t know the full reason, just looking at those tomatoes made one thing clear—Tae-yi’s words and actions hadn’t all been lies. Even if he had lied at times, not everything was fake.
As Tae-yi looked back at Haram with a smile and turned to go, as if he had somewhere important to be, Haram stared at his retreating figure and let out a faint, awkward farewell.
“……Chirp.”
…Come back safely.
Don’t get hurt.
That was courage born from the knowledge that Tae-yi couldn’t understand his voice anyway. The heavy clang of the front gate echoed through the now empty mansion.
He had flown through the cool dawn air to clear his head, but now it felt even more muddled—so much so that his skull ached. More precisely, he was in such turmoil that he couldn’t even grasp how chaotic things had become.
After standing blankly for a while, Haram dashed back to the pine tree. In a flash, the Sky Squirrel climbed the trunk and perched on a sturdy branch, ears alert. A car engine rumbled—Tae-yi was leaving the garage.
Haram listened until the only sound left was the chirping of sparrows nearby. Then he clapped his hands together with a sharp smack and closed his eyes.
“Chirp, chirp, chirp.”
He didn’t believe in any god, but in the quiet dawn, he whispered a desperate prayer into the stillness.
***
20th Floor.
As soon as Kang Tae-yi opened the door to the Vice Chairman’s office, a pungent wave of alcohol hit him, making his brow twitch in irritation.
“Dead already?”
He kicked aside the empty bottles littering the floor with little care and looked down at Kang Tae-jin sprawled out on the sofa in utter disarray.
Tae-yi already knew Tae-jin had been practically living at the office, scrambling to keep the resort project alive as things steadily turned against him. What he hadn’t known was that his brother had been drowning himself in alcohol.
As long as their father didn’t suddenly rise from his deathbed to appoint Kang Tae-jin as his successor and throw his full support behind the resort, there was nothing standing in Tae-yi’s way. And miracles like that didn’t happen.
With their father absent, none of the executives would blindly back a risky resort venture. And to Tae-yi’s surprise, supporters for his own agenda had been rallying around him far faster than expected.
If they were going to dismantle the resort business, they needed to move quickly. The backlash from Tae-jin’s faction was still strong enough to delay decisions, but that tug-of-war wouldn’t last much longer.
Tae-jin finally stirred, slowly lifting his heavy body. His bleary, unfocused eyes landed on Tae-yi standing before him.
“Always so greedy…”
The same bastard who’d spent his whole life looking down on him.
Tae-jin’s muttered words made Tae-yi scoff.
And who’s the one really consumed by greed here?
But Tae-jin pressed on, ignoring the disdain in Tae-yi’s gaze.
“You never gave a damn about being heir. And now you want that too?”
“Exactly. You should’ve just left that bastard alone.”
You’re the one who tried to kill me and made all this mess.
That day, with the rain pouring down like a curse—if Kang Tae-jin hadn’t tried to have him killed, everything could’ve turned out differently. He might never have met Da Haram at all.
“This is all the result of your greed. Don’t blame anyone else—just accept it.”
The only thing Tae-yi regretted was his squirrel.
Dragged into a sibling war, forced into suffering he never should’ve endured… Tae-yi still hadn’t figured out how to make it right, but he knew he had to find a way to repay that little sacrifice.
Tae-jin stood in a wobble, then staggered closer and gripped Tae-yi’s shoulder with a loud thud.
“Is this because I hurt you? I’m sorry. Okay? I mean it.”
Tae-jin’s pathetic apology, slurred with glazed eyes, only deepened Tae-yi’s disgust. He shrugged off the hand.
“Your damn eyes aren’t even focused. What, are you on something stronger than booze now?”
Tae-yi looked at him like he was filth. Then, just before stepping out, he turned to face the swaying man one last time.
“You’re just as irritating to me now… as I was to you.”
***
After Tae-yi left for work, Da Haram—now in human form—returned to the garden. The yellow blossoms had started to fall, meaning fruit would come next. It wouldn’t be long before the cherry tomatoes ripened.
Bathed in gentle sunlight, Haram stared at the tomato plants for a while, then moved into the shade under the pine tree.
He sat down on the grassy lawn, absentmindedly staring at the blades beneath him. He tilted his head upward to the clear blue sky, then down to the mansion looming above—massive and majestic.
It was peaceful here. The quiet, the space, the air—it all had a calming luxury to it, just like Tae-yi himself. This neighborhood felt no different from the countryside he came from. Cars passed occasionally, but it was still… incredibly quiet.
Haram blinked slowly and let out a lazy sigh. He was learning firsthand that too many thoughts could break your brain. His head felt like an overheated tractor run nonstop in the midday sun—overloaded, burnt out, and unwilling to do anything at all.
When Tae-yi first spoke about shutting down the resort business, Haram had thought it sounded simple. Just a high-up making a decision and calling it a day.
But seeing Tae-yi injured changed everything. That naïve assumption evaporated. There were dangerous people doing dangerous things he couldn’t even begin to imagine.
And Tae-yi wasn’t someone who had gotten involved later. He’d always been part of that world.
That truth unraveled him. It filled him with a relentless confusion that left him unable to decide anything—stuck in hesitation. At some point, just thinking about Tae-yi was enough to make him sigh.
As his hand gently brushed the soft grass, he thought of Tae-yi’s touch—how tenderly he’d caressed him. From the first time they met, Tae-yi had handled him gently, like something small and precious. Whether in human form or as a Sky Squirrel, he’d always treated him with care.
Haram didn’t know when the lies started, or which moments were real, but one thing was clear—not everything had been a lie.
Even if he resented being deceived, even if he was angry about being tricked, there was no way all of that warmth had been fake.
“…If it was all an act, he deserves an award.”
He mumbled to himself while staring at the tomato seedlings in the distance. But sleepiness soon began to weigh heavy on his eyelids. With a long yawn, he lay down on the plush grass, curled to his side in a comfortable position.
He pulled his flat tail close like a pillow, hugging it tightly to his chest, and closed his eyes. The midday sun was still hot, but the shade made it bearable. More than anything, he hadn’t slept properly in two days. He was exhausted. Heat was the least of his concerns.
“Mmmn…”
So itchy. Felt like a mosquito bite. Haram scratched his left cheek, still half-asleep. But the more he scratched, the hotter his cheek burned.
He sat up slowly, groggily rubbing his eyes with the same hand he’d been scratching with. The sunlight still scorched the garden.
Frowning at the glare, he instinctively crawled toward the new patch of shade, now relocated with the sun’s movement.
Still half-asleep, he absentmindedly rubbed his flushed cheek—and then, suddenly, his eyes snapped wide open.
“Huff…!”
He inhaled sharply, then shot to his feet and dashed into the house. Running straight to the second floor, Haram rushed into the bathroom inside his room.
“…What do I do?”
