By Zephyria 
“You still have baby fuzz.”
“Uh… excuse me?”
“How old are you that you still have baby fuzz on your earlobes?”
Baby fuzz..? Bewildered, Seo Chi-young touched his own ear. “I’m not sure…” he muttered, his face serious as he fiddled with his earlobe. Looking down at him, Jang Ui-geon smiled and reached out.
“It’s clearly visible in the sunlight. Right here.”
A large hand grasped Seo Chi-young’s ear. Just below the lobe, he pinched something and pulled slightly downward. Just as Jang Ui-geon had said, it didn’t feel like he was pinching the skin, but rather like something small was being tugged.
“Oh… you’re right…”
Blinking, Seo Chi-young muttered with a mix of fascination—as if he’d never noticed before—and slight awkwardness. Jang Ui-geon let out a short laugh.
“Now that I look at you, Chi-young, did you start school a few years early?”
“Uh… no, I didn’t…”
He offered a weak protest, saying he’d entered at the proper age, but Jang Ui-geon didn’t seem to take it seriously. He gave a half-hearted “Yes, yes,” while stroking Seo Chi-young’s earlobe.
“……..”
For some reason, it felt strange.
While quietly leaving his face entrusted to Jang Ui-geon’s hand, Seo Chi-young felt an increasing sense of awkwardness in the brief silence. It was a feeling close to being ticklish or shy.
The generous touch, quietly grooming his earlobe, warmly enveloped one side of his ear. Perhaps because of the warmth from that hand, his face gradually grew hot.
“……, Um…”
Slowly lowering his head, Seo Chi-young opened his mouth to speak, but not knowing what to say, he closed it again. He felt it would be awkward to push the hand away, fearing he was overreacting.
For some reason, Jang Ui-geon was also silent.
Suddenly, it felt as if the finger rubbing his earlobe tightened slightly. But then.
Jang Ui-geon pulled his hand away from Seo Chi-young and stood up abruptly.
“I told a restaurant nearby that I’d come by at lunchtime, so I should probably head out. It might be inconvenient for you if I’m late, Chi-young.”
“Huh? Oh… yes.”
Seo Chi-young hurriedly stood up as well. He chased after Jang Ui-geon, who was already several strides ahead. In front of him, Jang Ui-geon looked back at Seo Chi-young and held out his hand. Seo Chi-young stared in momentary confusion at the open palm, as if being told to take it. Jang Ui-geon, seemingly realizing it had been an instinctive gesture, awkwardly withdrew his hand.
“People unfamiliar with old houses often trip and fall…”
Muttering as if making an excuse, Jang Ui-geon suddenly noticed Seo Chi-young’s hand, which was clenched into a fist as if hesitating to reach out. After a brief silence, he pointed to the fist with his chin, looking puzzled.
“By the way, what are you holding in your hand?”
“Huh? Ah.”
As if he hadn’t realized he was clenching his fist until that moment, Seo Chi-young opened his palm. Jang Ui-geon raised an eyebrow upon seeing the small pieces of trash inside—cigarette butts, gum wrappers, and toothpicks.
“Ah, I picked them up from the ground while walking around earlier, but there wasn’t a proper place to throw them away…”
“….I’ll have to tell the staff. Gum is fine, but cigarettes are not.”
“There are plenty of flammable materials around,” Jang Ui-geon clicked his tongue and approached Seo Chi-young.
“Give them to me.”
As he said this and reached out, before Seo Chi-young could say anything, he grabbed Seo Chi-young’s hand and poured the trash into his own palm. After lightly dusting off Seo Chi-young’s palm, he turned and walked away.
“Oh,” Seo Chi-young stood there blankly, and only after he had moved six or seven steps away did he snap out of it and follow. He quietly clenched his fist, as if trying to preserve the sensation of the palm that had momentarily brushed across the back of his hand.
“Welcome… …to the shop.”
He felt someone entering the store. Seo Chi-young, who had been tidying up the counter as closing time approached, looked up. The reason his greeting faltered midway was that an unexpected face was standing there.
Kwon Kang-hee, who almost never visited the shop alone, was standing there, scanning the counter. Seo Chi-young peeked behind him to see if Yoon Jun-young had come along, but it seemed he was alone.
It hadn’t been long since Yoon Jun-young moved. He had put his house on the market and moved out before the house was even sold. He’d heard that Kwon Kang-hee had moved the luggage first while Jun-young’s house was empty.
Since then, naturally, Jun-young’s visits had become infrequent. He used to come two or three times a week, but now once a week was a lot. Every time he came, he would eat the gopchang with a longing expression, and as it grew time to leave, he would ask quite seriously, “How about moving your shop to the neighborhood where I live now?” Every time, Seo Chi-young would only laugh.
He would have to move the shop eventually before the demolition began, but if possible, he wanted to move within the same neighborhood. If all else failed, he would have to move to a neighborhood with cheaper rent, but if that happened, moving to the neighborhood where Jun-young had gone would be out of the question.
“…. What can I get for you?”
When Seo Chi-young asked cautiously after Kwon Kang-hee showed no sign of taking a seat for a long while, Kwon Kang-hee, who had been staring at the counter as if contemplating, looked up. Meeting his eyes, Seo Chi-young instinctively flinched. He was a man with sharp eyes, even when looking normally.
“Jun-young said I could buy the ingredients and stir-fry them at home.”
“Uh… yes.”
“It would be tastier to stir-fry them at home than to take them stir-fried from here.”
“…Probably so.”
For some reason, it felt strange that the conversation with Kwon Kang-hee was so mundane, but Seo Chi-young answered him sincerely.
“Then please pack the ingredients.”
As Kwon Kang-hee requested, Seo Chi-young began packing the ingredients into plastic bags. Gopchang separately, vegetables and noodles separately, and the sauce separately. Tying them securely so they wouldn’t leak, Seo Chi-young hesitated for a moment before asking.
“By the way, who is going to stir-fry them?”
“I’ll stir-fry them to feed Jun-young. He suddenly said he wanted gopchang in the middle of the night. …I just put everything in and stir-fry it, right?”
Kwon Kang-hee answered Seo Chi-young’s question readily and asked his own. Unable to imagine this man cooking and bringing food to someone, Seo Chi-young just blinked. To the final question, he opened his mouth to give some minor tips on how to stir-fry, saying, “Yes, that’s how you do it, but first…” But it was then.
“It’s Kang-hee. What brings you here? Did you come alone?”
Jang Ui-geon was walking toward them, speaking in a surprised tone.
Jang Ui-geon, who practically stopped by every day, was late today. Seo Chi-young had been looking at the clock, which was nearing midnight, wondering if he wouldn’t come today.
Kwon Kang-hee, turning around with the plastic bag in his hand, replied with a short “Yeah” upon seeing Jang Ui-geon. Seeing the plastic bag in his hand, Jang Ui-geon looked even more surprised.
“What’s that?”
“That guy said he wanted to eat it.”
“Why didn’t you come together?”
Seeing Kwon Kang-hee dressed comfortably, as if he had just stepped out of the house—whereas he usually wore a flawless suit—Jang Ui-geon asked. Kwon Kang-hee remained silent for a short moment before answering, “He can’t come, he’s lying down.”
Jang Ui-geon set his jacket on a chair, greeted Seo Chi-young with a smile of the eyes, and then turned his gaze back to Kwon Kang-hee, frowning slightly.
“Why? Is he sick? I heard he’s been home since the day before yesterday because classes were canceled.”
When Jang Ui-geon asked worriedly, Kwon Kang-hee slightly raised an eyebrow.
“How do you know?”
“I called him earlier. Just to check in and see how he was doing after a long time.”
Jang Ui-geon shrugged. As he sat down, he told Seo Chi-young, “Just one beer, please. I’m full because I just met someone,” and reached into the cupboard to take out an empty glass.
Kwon Kang-hee, who had been watching Jang Ui-geon in silence, shook his head when Jang Ui-geon poured the beer into the glass and offered it. “That guy is waiting,” he muttered bluntly, then continued in a slightly lower voice after a short pause.
“He’ll come when he’s able to move around a bit. Today, he said he wanted to come and eat in person, but he couldn’t walk, so I came instead. He said his legs have lost their strength from rolling around in bed while at home.”
“……..”
Jang Ui-geon, who had been offering the beer, paused, but soon slowly withdrew his hand and drank the beer himself.
“Right, that must be hard. Take good care of him. I hope he gets well soon.”
“Thanks for worrying. I heard you’re busy preparing the shop lately, so hang in there. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Uh, yeah.”
The conversation ended concisely.
Kwon Kang-hee, after glancing at the clock, soon left, and Jang Ui-geon merely waved his hand lightly behind his back without trying to keep him longer.
“……”
Until he stir-fried the gopchang ordered by the customers at the inner tables and brought it to them, Jang Ui-geon remained silent for a while. He was simply lost in thought, drinking the beer slowly as if it were a soft drink. When Seo Chi-young sat in the opposite seat as usual, Jang Ui-geon’s gaze, which had been fixed on the glass, shifted to Seo Chi-young.
His face, which had been sunken and expressionless, wore a faint smile upon meeting Seo Chi-young’s eyes.
“You’re staring again…”
“….Jun-young will come tomorrow evening.”
Seo Chi-young muttered, slightly lowering his head. In front of Seo Chi-young, who had blurted out that single sentence bluntly yet cautiously, as if sharing a secret, Jang Ui-geon raised an eyebrow.
“Jun-young contacted you? …Do you still keep in touch?”
Jang Ui-geon knew that until recently, when Yoon Jun-young lived in this neighborhood, he had contacted Seo Chi-young often. Most of those contacts were either “I’m coming now, so don’t close the shop and wait for me” just before closing, or “Are you still open?” after midnight.
Seo Chi-young scratched his head awkwardly.
“If Mr. Kwon Kang-hee stir-fries it at home, it probably won’t taste as good as it does here. He seemed like he was just going to throw all the ingredients in at once and stir-fry them…”
Once, when time was tight and Yoon Jun-young had eaten gopchang at a shop near the school, he had complained that it tasted bad and come to Seo Chi-young that very night. Similar things happened a few more times. The first one or two times, Jun-young had bought ingredients and stir-fried them at home, but each time he would come back the next day, sulking and saying, “As I thought, Chi-young has to be the one to stir-fry it. My palate has been ruined.”
“Tomorrow evening, huh…”
Jang Ui-geon, lightly swirling his beer glass, smiled faintly. After remaining silent for a moment, lost in thought with a dim smile on his lips, he looked up at Seo Chi-young. He locked eyes with Seo Chi-young, who was sitting quietly opposite him.
“But why are you telling me that? Do you think I want to see Jun-young?”
“……”
Seo Chi-young didn’t answer or nod; he just looked at Jang Ui-geon. There was a smile in the corners of Jang Ui-geon’s eyes, but his gaze was not smiling. His dark eyes slowly traced his own thoughts. Then, eventually, he smiled within his gaze as well. A smirk, almost a self-deprecating laugh, leaked through his lips.
“You’re right. I do want to see him. I think of him… and hearing things like that makes my chest feel tight and hot…”
That bastard probably said that on purpose so I’d hear it, Jang Ui-geon thought, chuckling as he looked in the direction Kwon Kang-hee had disappeared. He stopped drinking the lukewarm beer in the glass he was holding, frowned slightly, and dumped the contents on the floor. Then he poured a fresh beer from a cold bottle.
“But… still, it’s better now than when we saw each other often, so I think it’s better not to see him for a while. I think it would hurt my heart if I actually saw him. ….I’m surprisingly a romantic, aren’t I?”
Looking at Jang Ui-geon, who was smiling broadly, Seo Chi-young quietly nodded. Seeing Seo Chi-young’s overly serious expression, Jang Ui-geon clicked his tongue as if troubled. “I told you not to react so seriously…” he muttered, but he set the glass down as if he couldn’t help it.
Standing up readily, Jang Ui-geon suddenly reached his arm over the counter toward Seo Chi-young. His hand seemed to hesitate for a moment above Seo Chi-young’s head before landing on his shoulder. Then he gave a light pat-pat, as if he were the one comforting Seo Chi-young.
“Thank you. ….Truly.”
Gently stroking the shoulder he had been patting, Jang Ui-geon remained silent for a moment and then smiled bitterly.
“I thought that if Chi-young hadn’t comforted me, it might have been very difficult… Thank you.”
“…No…”
He tried to shake his head and say “It’s nothing,” but the words wouldn’t come out. Looking down at Seo Chi-young, who was staring at the ground with his head bowed, Jang Ui-geon suddenly seemed to apply pressure to the hand on his shoulder. But then, as if startled or as if he were being pushed away, he quickly withdrew his hand and sat back down.
Noticing this, Seo Chi-young looked up at Jang Ui-geon in confusion, but Jang Ui-geon was turning his gaze elsewhere. Frowning slightly and tilting his head as if lost in thought, he realized Seo Chi-young was staring at him, looked troubled for a moment, and then shrugged.
Whatever, he sighed lightly in that tone, and looked at Seo Chi-young with a hint of mischief.
“I’m grateful, but… how can you take my side when he’s already left for another guy?”
“Uh… …. Um, ….you’re right. ….I’m sorry.”
Seo Chi-young muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
“If Kang-hee hears about this, you’ll have to watch your back when walking through the back alleys late at night. No, since Jun-young likes Chi-young, you might already have to be careful.”
When Jang Ui-geon joked with a chuckle, Seo Chi-young laughed too.
“Besides, well…”
Jang Ui-geon stopped talking and stared into the air, then emptied his glass with a bitter smile.
“I don’t even have much greed anymore. I’ve become a bit hollow; even when I go to bars, no one catches my eye, and even when I see someone who seems decent, I’m not actually attracted when I try to go for it. Maybe it’s because my heart is lonely, but I feel like I’ve been sexually frustrated lately…”
Jang Ui-geon suddenly stopped talking. His gaze, which had been casually on Seo Chi-young, seemed to frown for a moment. The flash of bewilderment that crossed his eyes vanished as he quietly withdrew his gaze.
Turning his eyes to silently glare at the beer bottle, Jang Ui-geon didn’t look up until he had emptied the glass he was holding and then another.
Seo Chi-young, who had been quietly watching him as he frowned as if distressed, asked cautiously.
“……, Are you okay?”
Today, Jang Ui-geon seemed somehow unstable. Perhaps it was because of Kwon Kang-hee. He rarely showed such signs, but whenever he saw Kwon Kang-hee or Yoon Jun-young, a bitter light would occasionally surface.
Only then did Jang Ui-geon look at Seo Chi-young, who had lowered his gaze gloomily. Looking at Seo Chi-young with a subtle expression, Jang Ui-geon eventually let out a quiet sigh.
“….. No, I think I’m just a bit exhausted lately. Useless thoughts keep drifting in and out…”
Seo Chi-young fell silent. The rarely drained voice sounded poignant. There was no way Seo Chi-young could know exactly how Jang Ui-geon felt or what was in his heart. Anyone can only guess at another person’s heart; they can never know it exactly as it is.
But there was one thing he did know.
When one is suffering and struggling, the heart becomes even more exhausted. It’s because miscellaneous thoughts, which wouldn’t occur at any other time, drift in and scratch at the heart. Like that one day long ago, when he had sat on a bridge over the river in the pitch-black dawn.
If only someone had been by my side then, it might have been a little easier to endure.
That thought came later, after he had already endured that time painfully and with difficulty. He wasn’t suddenly sad or distressed, but he recalled the thought with a certain amount of regret.
Thinking that if someone had just listened, or even if someone had just been there, his heart might have been a little less lonely.
“……..”
At that moment, the last few customers in the shop stood up. It was just past midnight.
As they paid and left, Jang Ui-geon, the last one remaining, checked his watch and showed signs of getting up.
“It’s time to close. I should probably head out too…”
It was just as Jang Ui-geon was rising from his seat. Seo Chi-young, hesitating for a split second with a small “Oh,” blurted out impulsively.
“Um, would… would you like to stay over at my place?”
The words had escaped his lips before he knew it. Only after he stopped mid-motion while pulling his wallet from his pocket and met Jang Ui-geon’s steady gaze did he realize how disastrously he had handled it.
He didn’t know why he had suddenly said that. It wasn’t as if they were close friends inviting someone over to hang out, nor had there been any prior conversation about it. To suddenly ask him to sleep over seemed far too presumptuous. Or perhaps the other man would find it unpleasant, thinking he was being pitied for his gloomy state.
Flustered, Seo Chi-young scratched his head and stammered, “No, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just meant if you’re feeling depressed—no, not that, I mean if you’re bored.” Jang Ui-geon looked down at him in silence.
“If you’re bored, or maybe if you’re not drunk enough, or if you’re tired…” His voice grew smaller as he rambled, eventually vanishing into the silence.
He had said something unnecessary. If it were Jang Ui-geon, he would likely just smile and say, ‘I appreciate the offer, but today is a bit sudden, so perhaps next time,’ and then leave.
“No, it’s just…”
Adding one last mumbled word, Seo Chi-young looked down at his toes. After a further moment of silence, Jang Ui-geon gave an unexpected answer.
“Shall we do that, then?”
Having answered, Jang Ui-geon himself frowned for a moment as if the words had slipped out unconsciously. However, when Seo Chi-young looked at him hesitantly and murmured, “Yes… then you can save on the fare for the way home…” with a half-serious expression, Jang Ui-geon looked at him with a bewildered face before letting out a low laugh after a short silence. Seeing him say, “I’ll be able to save on tomorrow morning’s fare too,” with his usual expression, Seo Chi-young smiled, his heart loosening slightly.
The sound of a cat meowing drifted in from outside. Seo Chi-young quietly lifted his head and looked at the window by the bedside.
A yellow light was filtering in from outside. Since the house was tucked deep inside the alley, the streetlamp at the entrance cast a dim glow all the way here. Through the semi-basement window, the shadows of people returning home late at night occasionally flickered past.
The sound of a cat meowing again reached his ears. It seemed to be coming from next to the trash can beneath the telephone pole, but he wasn’t certain.
As he always did on his way back, he had left a handful of unseasoned chitterlings next to the trash can where cats often gathered at night. Two or three cats that had been loitering nearby sat a few steps away, watching, and only rushed forward once Seo Chi-young had moved away from the spot.
Perhaps because they had long grown accustomed to Seo Chi-young simply leaving food and walking away, they usually paced back and forth a couple of steps in front of him as soon as they saw him returning. But today, perhaps because Jang Ui-geon was standing beside him, they stayed far back and did not approach.
“You give them water too?”
Watching Seo Chi-young pour a plastic bottle of water he had brought from the shop into the concave dip of the trash can lid, Jang Ui-geon asked with curiosity. Seo Chi-young nodded and replied simply.
“Yes… I heard somewhere that it’s fine in a season like this, but when it’s cold and dry like winter, they need something to drink more than something to eat. So I just…”
Back when he lived in a house, he used to place a small container inside the main gate, right next to the door, and fill it with things like anchovies left over from making broth. Then, the stray cats that crawled under the gate would eat and go. His mother, who was afraid of animals, couldn’t even get close to the cats when she went out into the yard, but she still insisted on leaving small amounts of food in the winter, saying it was pitiful for them to be cold and hungry.
Now that he lived in a row house with others, some people might dislike it, so he only left small amounts in the corners of the street at night. But whenever he saw the cats hungrily devouring the food, he would occasionally think back to those times.
He remembered his mother murmuring, even as she watched the cats from a distance with fearful eyes, that she was sorry she didn’t have the luxury to give more.
“You must take after your mother, Chi-young.”
As they walked home, sharing these stories sporadically, Jang Ui-geon suddenly made an unexpected comment. When he replied, “No, I’m not afraid of cats,” Jang Ui-geon only laughed as if it were absurd.
On the way back, he had actually been a bit worried. He had spent the walk agonizing over what to say when sitting across from a depressed Jang Ui-geon—whether it would be better not to bring up Yoon Jun-young, or if it would be better to just offer direct comfort. Yet, contrary to his worries, Jang Ui-geon maintained his usual demeanor, smiling coolly and bringing up everyday topics.
While Jun-young wasn’t mentioned, it didn’t feel as if he was deliberately struggling to avoid the subject, so Seo Chi-young felt somewhat relieved and followed the flow of the conversation.
And then it happened.
Without anyone leading the way, and without the feeling that the conversation had specifically cut off, a wave of languor washed over Seo Chi-young. As he rubbed his eyelids, Jang Ui-geon silently began to spread out the bedding. Not just Seo Chi-young, but Jang Ui-geon also seemed tired, blinking heavily, and he lay down beside Seo Chi-young, who had pulled out one more blanket.
“Sweet dreams.”
As Seo Chi-young murmured, closing eyes that were being covered by a hazy sleepiness, Jang Ui-geon’s quiet voice responded from the darkness after the lights were turned off.
“You too, Chi-young.”
With that, the conversation ended.
Only a serene darkness remained in the room. He glanced at the clock—which showed it was later than his usual bedtime because of their talking—with eyes adjusted to the dark, and then closed them.
“……..”
However.
Despite his body being tired and sleepy, he couldn’t fall asleep once he closed his eyes. He found himself counting the meows of the cats outside, until he heard the fifth, then the sixth. And when he heard it one more time, Seo Chi-young let out a quiet sigh and opened his eyes.
He quietly shifted his gaze to look around the familiar room. It was a narrow room he had lived in for several years, familiar down to every corner. The low chest of drawers used instead of a wardrobe, the color boxes holding books and miscellaneous items, the table folded and stood up in the corner, the stained wallpaper with slightly peeling edges, and the fluorescent light exposed without a cover, coated in a thin layer of white dust. Everything was his own familiar room.
Every time he visually confirmed those familiar things, he felt a strange sensation. The fact that Jang Ui-geon was lying right next to him, breathing quietly. In this cramped, old room, he was the only thing that felt out of place, creating a sense of incongruity. It wasn’t as if this was the first or second time he had slept here, yet it still felt that way.
Seo Chi-young found it inherently strange that Jang Ui-geon was in his world.
But the body heat pressing against him in the narrow space—where they had no choice but to lie close even with two sets of bedding—was a definite reality. Feeling that warmth anew, Seo Chi-young quietly closed his eyes.
It felt good. Though the warm body heat and the quiet sound of breathing felt unfamiliar, as if borrowed from someone else, his heart softened. He felt that if he fell asleep like this, he would have a pleasant dream. He hoped he would fall asleep soon.
With that thought, Seo Chi-young let out a languid sigh and drifted into the pleasant, flickering waves of sleep.
But just as he was about to fall into a light slumber, Seo Chi-young opened his eyes at the sign of a quiet movement beside him. Jang Ui-geon was sitting up.
Since there had been no sign of tossing and turning, Seo Chi-young initially thought, Is he going to the bathroom? However, Jang Ui-geon simply sat there blankly, as if he had suddenly woken up in the middle of the night and been lost in thought.
“…….Did you have a dream?”
Wondering if he had perhaps had a nightmare, Seo Chi-young sat up as well and asked quietly. Jang Ui-geon paused, then looked back at him.
“I’m sorry. I must have disturbed your sleep.”
Hearing that quiet, calm voice, Seo Chi-young realized that he hadn’t woken up from sleep, but rather hadn’t been asleep at all.
“….Can’t you sleep?”
When Seo Chi-young asked worriedly, Jang Ui-geon seemed to frown slightly.
“No…” he murmured, then fell silent. After a moment of silence, he asked, almost like a sigh.
“Do you sleep well, Chi-young?”
“….Uh… I’m sleepy… yes… I think I’ll fall asleep soon if I just wait a bit more…”
“I didn’t even drink any coffee,” Seo Chi-young added, tilting his head. Jang Ui-geon, who had been staring at him in the darkness, suddenly murmured suspiciously.
“Coffee… is it because of the coffee? ……Actually, the one I had today did seem a bit strong.”
A short silence followed the ambiguous monologue. Soon, a quiet sigh escaped. Watching Jang Ui-geon slowly rub his eyelids, Seo Chi-young murmured softly, as if comforting him.
“Uh… maybe it’s because you’re busy and have a lot on your mind. Um, when I was young, my father was like that too when he was growing his business. When he was busy or things weren’t going well, he couldn’t sleep well even though he was exhausted.”
“Was he?” Jang Ui-geon replied casually, then lay back down, saying, “I’ll probably fall asleep soon.” Beside him, Seo Chi-young looked down at him while still sitting up, then murmured as a thought occurred to him.
“When that happened, I used to pluck my father’s white hairs… I was still young then, so my father didn’t have many white hairs. As I worked hard to find and pluck them one by one, he would eventually fall asleep.”
“Ah… it was the same at my house. My younger sister… she used the allowance she got from doing that to buy hair dye for my father.”
Hearing Jang Ui-geon murmur as if he didn’t know why they did that, Seo Chi-young smiled softly. Jang Ui-geon’s voice, which had been heavy, also took on a relaxed languor as he laughed quietly. However, that laughter was cut short by something Seo Chi-young blurted out unconsciously.
“Shall I pluck your white hairs? Maybe you’ll sleep better then.”
“……..”
“……..”
“….I don’t really have many grey hairs… I don’t know if I look older than you, Chi-young, but we’re the same age…”
His voice was slightly blunt, noting that he wasn’t at an age to have white hairs yet. That voice, which sounded slightly pouting, didn’t seem scary but rather somehow funny, so Seo Chi-young murmured “I’m sorry,” while suppressing a rising laugh.
However, after a moment of silence, Jang Ui-geon said, “Well… go ahead and look. I’ve been through so much physical and mental stress lately that some might have appeared in the meantime.” Since he had made the suggestion quite seriously, Seo Chi-young was surprised by the reaction and hesitated for a moment, but he obediently turned on the room light. Then, he sat down by Jang Ui-geon’s head.
Only after his eyes, adjusted to the dark, became accustomed to the light did Seo Chi-young carefully begin to sift through Jang Ui-geon’s hair. Although he had mentioned white hairs, his fingers trembled slightly as he touched the hair of the man who had his eyes closed as if sleeping quietly.
Struggling to calm his heart, which had begun to thumping loudly, Seo Chi-young slowly parted the thick black hair.
“………”
As he carefully sifted through the hair looking for white strands he had never seen and didn’t expect to find, his mind gradually settled. While touching the hair—which looked stiff but was unexpectedly soft—his fingertips revived a distant memory within a familiar sensation.
His father would occasionally call Seo Chi-young to pluck his white hairs, but even when he couldn’t sleep or was exhausted, he loved the feeling of his young son’s fern-like hands carefully groping through his hair.
As Seo Chi-young grew, the instances of his father asking first decreased, but after he grew up, Seo Chi-young was the one to seek out his father. Whenever his father’s face was clouded with worry, Seo Chi-young would silently go to his side and say in a gentle, childlike tone, ‘I’ll pluck your white hairs.’ Then his father would laugh heartily, saying, ‘If we keep plucking white hairs, your father is going to end up bald.’
When was the last time he had plucked his father’s white hairs? He remembered instantly without having to think deeply. It was the day before the family business went bankrupt, just before he graduated from high school. He had seen his father’s eyelids, which were closed as if sleeping while entrusting his head to Seo Chi-young’s hands, tremble slightly at some point, and a teardrop had formed at the edge.
That memory remained vivid, and even now, whenever a white-haired elderly person passed by or someone with many grey hairs caught his eye, that memory would surface.
“……..”
Suddenly, he thought of his father, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time. The last time he saw him, his father’s hair had turned so white that it would have been harder to find a black strand. Now, it must be as white as fallen snow.
He missed his father. He wished he could meet his father, who was likely living alone in his old age, and just hold his hand.
Seo Chi-young let out a quiet sigh. His mother’s 60th birthday was coming up soon. He had thought about visiting her for a day when the time came. Since he was going down anyway, he decided he would stay an extra day and stop by to see his father.
Seo Chi-young looked down at Jang Ui-geon, fiddling with the hair that showed no white strands even after searching for a long time. Though they were nothing alike, those exhausted eyes and the fatigued complexion somehow reminded him of his father.
Feeling a strange sense of tenderness, Seo Chi-young carefully stroked his hair. Then, the man, who had been closing his eyes as if asleep, spoke. His voice had become even more languid, as if sleep were finally coming.
“Jun-young… you can’t tell just by looking, but he actually has quite a few grey hairs. So whenever he saw a grey hair in the back or somewhere hidden, he’d shove his head toward me and ask me to pluck it. Then Kang-hee would always mess up Jun-young’s hair with a blunt face, as if it were a nuisance.”
“…..”
“Then, for a while, things became subtle between those two, so I’d pluck them occasionally… but Kang-hee actually liked it quite a bit, so he’d be secretly disappointed when Jun-young asked me.”
Jang Ui-geon laughed softly.
“But I’m not very dexterous, so Jun-young often complained to me. Asking why I plucked them so painfully. Now Kang-hee is probably doing it… they were a good match for each other.”
The laughter-tinged voice, which had been flowing with a languid sigh, stopped. And for a while, a quiet silence followed. The sound of low, steady breathing mingled in.
‘They were a good match for each other’—the whispering voice sounded faintly sad, yet it contained a clear sincerity, and Seo Chi-young nodded with a tingling heart. And for Jang Ui-geon, who wished for their happiness, and for the two of them, he whispered.
“I think they’ll be good to each other. Both of them.”
Having said it, he felt a bit relieved, thinking it seemed more like a reality than a mere wish.
Then, suddenly.
Seo Chi-young, who had been slowly groping through Jang Ui-geon’s hair as if stroking it, stopped his hand. Jang Ui-geon had opened his eyes and was looking up at him.
Gazing at Seo Chi-young with eyes that betrayed no particular thought, he suddenly spoke.
“What about you, Chi-young?”
“Pardon?”
“How do you think it would be if you had someone precious?”
At the question that seemed to hold a hint of a smile, Seo Chi-young fell silent. Someone precious. He had never given it much thought. But if such a person appeared.
“..I would… I would be good to them.”
He found himself stammering. Feeling suddenly shy, Seo Chi-young avoided his gaze and looked only at his fingertips. Jang Ui-geon smiled calmly and asked again.
“Even now, you don’t seem to realize it, but if I look closely, you’re already good to people. How could you be any more so than that?”
“Uh…” Seo Chi-young stammered. He looked at Jang Ui-geon with a troubled expression, but finding it awkward to meet that gaze—which was watching him with curious, smiling eyes—he dropped his sight again.
“It’s just… whatever.”
He could feel his face heating up. Seo Chi-young clicked his tongue inwardly. He wasn’t some immature child; he was old enough that blushing over a simple conversation like this felt ridiculous.
“I just… feel like I’d want to do anything for them.”
Muttering as if he were shrinking into himself, Seo Chi-young bowed his head deeply. Not that it helped him avoid Jang Ui-geon’s gaze, as the other man was looking up at him from below.
A precious person.
In a corner of his heart, he had already given up to some extent. He felt that the probability of meeting someone in his life who would love him as much as he loved them—a precious person who could embrace him—was close to a miracle.
Jang Ui-geon watched Seo Chi-young in silence as he blinked, his face flushed and unable to make eye contact. Looking at him with eyes that seemed to hold a hint of a smile, he eventually let out a small chuckle and spoke.
“Good luck with that.”
It was a reassuring voice, sounding as if he were offering a blessing, promising that it would surely come true. Hearing that voice, which sounded so certain, Seo Chi-young felt that perhaps it really might happen. So, he gave a slightly shy smile and replied, “Yes.”
“It would be nice if I could meet someone like that soon.”
However, the moment those words left his mouth, the smile vanished from Jang Ui-geon’s lips for a brief second. The softness in his eyes subsided. “Uh…” Seo Chi-young paused for a moment, then quickly added,
“Y-You too, Ui-geon-ssi.”
“….I suppose so.”
Jang Ui-geon answered quietly. His gaze shifted away from Seo Chi-young to look up at the ceiling. He tilted his head slightly, as if something were suspicious, or as if he were pondering a problem for which no immediate answer came to mind, before casting his quiet gaze back onto Seo Chi-young.
“But how do you know if they’re a precious person? Is it a precious person just because I like them, or does there need to be something more? How do you think you’d recognize them, Chi-young-ssi?”
Facing Jang Ui-geon, who muttered each word with a sense of wonder as if he didn’t know the answer himself, Seo Chi-young flusteredly mumbled, “Uh… well… I’m not sure…”
His brow furrowed in deep thought. Since it was a question he had never considered before, an answer didn’t come easily. Liking them—of course, that was the most basic requirement, and it wouldn’t work without it—but he felt that alone might not be enough. He thought hard for a while, but no definitive answer came to mind.
“Well… I like them… and they like me… they’re good to me… and I do everything for them…”
He pieced together his thoughts one by one, stumbling through them, but as he spoke, he felt he was sounding more and more clumsy, so he fell silent. Jang Ui-geon watched him in silence, seeing Seo Chi-young’s troubled and lost expression, and remained quiet for a while as if considering the answer himself. Seo Chi-young asked him cautiously.
“What do you think, Ui-geon-ssi?”
“……I don’t know… nothing specific comes to mind for me either, but rather…”
Jang Ui-geon paused. For some reason, the intensity of the gaze staring at him felt prickly, and Seo Chi-young found himself unconsciously reading his expression.
After watching Seo Chi-young like that for a while, Jang Ui-geon suddenly muttered like a sigh, “I’m worried…” Then, to Seo Chi-young, who blinked in confusion, he spoke in a tone that was half-joke, but more than half-serious.
“Be careful not to get caught by a gold digger.”
Hearing those words, which sounded somewhat displeased, Seo Chi-young’s eyes widened for a moment before he frowned and gave a bitter smile.
“No way… to someone like me, who has nothing to gain…”
He had never once thought of such a thing. He had never even imagined the possibility. Seo Chi-young had no money, no status, and no special skills. He was simply a man who had nothing, barely scraping by day by day.
But as Seo Chi-young spoke with a clumsy smile, Jang Ui-geon muttered as if to himself, as if he knew exactly what the other was thinking, “That’s just your opinion, Chi-young-ssi.” It felt as if a whisper were mixed in, suggesting that gold diggers don’t only target money.
Seo Chi-young scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, but soon muttered with a faint smile to Jang Ui-geon.
“But I don’t think that’ll happen… and anyway, I don’t think I’ll have the luxury for that for a while… so it’s okay. Thank you for worrying.”
As Seo Chi-young gave a small bow, Jang Ui-geon seemed to knit his brows, but soon muttered to himself.
“Maybe it’s a relief that you don’t have the luxury.”
“Pardon?”
“If you had the luxury and had a personality like yours, Chi-young-ssi, people around you would surely…”
However, Jang Ui-geon stopped mid-sentence and fell silent. He looked at Seo Chi-young, who was blinking with a clueless face, quietly waiting for the rest of the sentence, and then concluded with, “It’s nothing.” Then, to Seo Chi-young, who was just quietly looking up at him, Jang Ui-geon closed his eyes and said,
“Keep looking. For some reason, I’m sure you’ll end up with white hair.”
End of Volume 1