“…You said everything was fine.”
Abroad? Alone? Why? A whirlwind of thoughts spiraled out of control, but before he could ask any of them, his voice came out laced with hurt.
Kang Tae-yi must’ve sensed how upset he was, because he quickly added,
“Kang Tae-jin’s on the run, and I want to end this properly this time. I’m worried something else might happen—like when you were kidnapped—and you’ll be in danger again. That’s why I asked you to go abroad for a bit.”
How long had it even been since Haram stormed out, determined to finally have the conversation they’d been avoiding for so long? And now he was telling Haram to leave the country—to go so far away that Haram couldn’t even reach him. Haram couldn’t hide how distressed he was.
He gave Haram the basics, so he had a rough understanding of the situation. But even so, Haram didn’t want to be separated from him again. Especially not after overhearing that conversation outside his study in the middle of the night. He hadn’t even mentioned any of it himself. Haram might be naïve and oblivious sometimes, but he knew enough to realize—whatever Yoon Ji-seok knew, Tae-yi had no intention of telling Haram.
“I want to know too… I want to know what’s going on. Why am I the only one being kept in the dark?”
Da Haram couldn’t hold it in anymore. Overwhelmed by Tae-yi’s sudden suggestion, the tears he’d been holding back burst free. Seeing Haram cry, Tae-yi’s brow furrowed, and he wiped the tears streaming down Haram’s cheeks, suppressing the sigh that threatened to escape.
“There’s nothing good in knowing.”
Even as he was being blamed and misunderstood, there was only one reason Tae-yi stayed silent. If Da Haram were to find out that he was willing to exploit anything—drugs, their father’s death, whatever it took—to completely destroy Kang Tae-jin, would Haram be able to understand?
Of course not. The innocent sky squirrel who’d lived his whole life farming in the countryside couldn’t possibly understand the dirty things Tae-yi was about to do. In the end, he was just a coward who’d built a wall because he was afraid of how Haram would react.
Still dripping with fat teardrops, Da Haram suddenly clenched his tiny fists and glared at Tae-yi. Then, without warning, he transformed. Slipping right out of his t-shirt, the sky squirrel shot Tae-yi a bitter glare before lunging forward, grabbing his index finger and sinking his teeth in with all his might.
With that, the sky squirrel bolted.
Tae-yi stared in dumbfounded silence, nursing his stinging finger, eyes fixed on the silver-gray puffball racing away with his fur fluffed up in indignation. When he realized Haram was headed toward the garden, he scrambled to his feet and chased after him.
“Da Haram!”
Haram scurried up the tallest pine tree in the garden and wedged himself between the branches. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, louder than anything else.
“Chiiit, chiiik…!”
I bit Tae-yi… I actually bit him…!
Aside from cracking open nuts, he’d never bitten anything with that much force before—let alone a person. Why had he done it? Then again, the urge to bite Tae-yi, who was being so infuriating and cold, had been a very real instinct.
“Da Haram. Come down.”
Tae-yi managed to hold back the shout he wanted to let loose. Thankfully, it didn’t look like Haram was going to hop the wall, but still, the fact that he was up in a tree Tae-yi couldn’t climb didn’t sit right with him. If just seeing him from this distance made Tae-yi so anxious, how could he possibly send Haram overseas alone?
“Chiiik!”
Haram shook his head violently and refused to come down, even raising his front paws to plug his ears. As far as he was concerned, biting Tae-yi had been an act of self-defense. That man bit his butt and nape every single day—surely biting one little finger was within Haram’s rights.
Even so, he couldn’t stop glancing at the finger he’d bitten. It wasn’t bleeding, was it? Sky squirrel teeth weren’t exactly built for hard biting, but he’d definitely put some emotion behind that chomp. He couldn’t help worrying.
Peeking down from the tree, Haram saw Tae-yi sitting with his back against the trunk, waiting. He stamped his feet in frustration.
“Chiiik…”
Ugh, it’s really bothering me. I’ll just check the wound and come right back up.
He finally made up his mind to climb down when he heard footsteps approaching from afar.
“What are you doing sitting on the ground like that?”
“Director, what are you doing out here?”
As soon as Haram spotted Chief Yoon, he started to come down—but then he saw Yoon Ji-seok right behind him and immediately retreated to his spot in the branches. If he got caught now, he’d have to endure a new round of nonsense until his ears bled. He wasn’t in the mood for that.
And more than anything, he didn’t want to see Yoon Ji-seok. A tiny spark of jealousy burned inside him. Chief Yoon was one thing—he worked with Tae-yi, so it made sense he’d know stuff. But why did that Yoon Ji-seok guy know more than he did? It really got under his skin.
“Da Haram, wait.”
Tae-yi stood and brushed off his pants, looking up at the sky squirrel teetering on the branch. It might’ve looked precarious to him, but Haram was clearly perfectly comfortable up there.
“He ran away again?”
Yoon Ji-seok looked up too, following Tae-yi’s gaze. He spotted the dusty-looking ball of fluff nestled in the pine branches and let out a chuckle.
“Chiiiik!”
When did I ever run away?!
It pissed him off that someone who’d barely even met him a few times acted like they had him all figured out. Sure, maybe he’d run away from Tae-yi once or twice… and yeah, technically this counted too… but still! The sky squirrel stomped his back feet furiously and peeked down again.
Chief Yoon had been about to say something to Tae-yi, but when his eyes met Haram’s huge, glistening ones, he shut his mouth tight. Not even he wanted to tell Haram anything. Haram’s chest clenched. Seeing Chief Yoon awkwardly avert his gaze and pretend not to notice made him feel like crying all over again.
Eventually, Haram began to slowly climb down the tree.
“Da Haram, can we talk?”
“…”
Weaving through the three men like he was dodging puddles, Haram strutted across the garden with his flat tail standing tall, every step full of haughty pride. He didn’t even glance back when Tae-yi called out, making his way directly to the stairs that led to the second floor.
And just like that, the fist-sized sky squirrel vanished.
“Haah…”
A heavy sigh from Kang Tae-yi filled the wide garden.
“Wouldn’t it be better to tell him at least some of it?”
Chief Yoon cautiously offered, having gotten the gist of things from the atmosphere.
“The problem is… he wants to know too much.”
Tae-yi couldn’t really blame Da Haram. It was only natural for him to want to understand what was going on.
“Your father’s on the brink of death. If he dies now, things’ll tip in Kang Tae-jin’s favor. So we’re planning to drug him and either lock him up in a psych ward or throw him in jail before that happens. Can’t I just tell him that much?”
Yoon Ji-seok, who’d been watching Tae-yi moping like a wilted plant in the corner of the garden, snapped in frustration. But the moment the words left his mouth, a dull thwack echoed through the air.
“Are you trying to tell him everything? Just shut that mouth of yours, would you?”
Yoon Min-ho had smacked his older brother hard across the back, now glaring daggers at him. Yoon Ji-seok didn’t care one bit about how things would look for Tae-yi if Da Haram actually heard what he’d just said.
While the Yoon brothers bickered, Tae-yi stayed silent, staring at the second-floor stairs Da Haram had disappeared into. Then he slowly began climbing them.
***
“Da Haram?”
He found the sky squirrel lying flat on the hallway floor like a melted scoop of ice cream. He rushed over, unsure of how to even pick him up in such a limp state—but then the squirrel suddenly popped up and shouted with a clenched fist.
“Chiiik! Chiiiik!”
I’m not going overseas!
Not long ago, Tae-yi had said it was too dangerous and brought him to Seoul to stay by his side. Now he wanted him gone?
And the first time he’d get to use his passport… it wasn’t for a trip, but for running away? He’d assumed that once he had a passport, he’d be going on work trips with Tae-yi—or maybe even a vacation. But this?
It was so unexpected, so unfair. It hurt.
He didn’t want to live in fear of Kang Tae-jin anymore. He didn’t want to be kidnapped again like some helpless, clueless sky squirrel. He was sick of running. More than anything—he just wanted to be by Tae-yi’s side. Even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on, he wanted to stay with him.
Tears welled up again as Haram looked up at Tae-yi and shouted once more.
“Jjaek! Jjaek!”
I’m staying with you!
It sounded somewhere between a curse and a bold declaration. Tae-yi pressed his lips together, letting out a quiet sigh. He didn’t understand a word of it—but the sight of Haram crying like that weighed on him more than any words ever could.
