By Zephyria 
Prologue.
It was a day of steady, drizzling rain.
The owner of the old convenience store, sitting behind the counter, scratched his back with a flyswatter while glaring at the moisture spreading across the floor. Every time a customer walked in, he told them to shake off their umbrellas, but no one ever truly listened. They merely pretended to do so.
The owner let out a deep sigh at the thought of the tedious mopping ahead, then suddenly narrowed his eyes. He scrutinized a man standing in front of the bread display before abruptly standing up, cursing under his breath. It was just as the man was about to pass the entrance.
“You little brat, thinking you can steal here!”
“Agh!”
The man, grabbed by the scruff of his neck by the store owner, screamed. Upon closer inspection, his pale, almost white face looked more like that of a boy than an adult. He looked to be around high school age.
Glaring at the boy, whose looks were excessively pretty for a petty thief, the owner slammed his thick palm hard against the boy’s forehead as he tried to flee.
“Ack!”
Because the screams echoed repeatedly, the children gathered in front of the snack aisle and a couple picking out appetizers beside them looked toward the entrance.
“Hands out.”
Holding the neck that felt as though it might snap from being so thin, the owner warned him by slapping the flyswatter against the back wall. Two mating flies were crushed flat against the red plastic.
The boy, hiding his hands in the pockets of his thin outerwear, struggled and tried to escape. A rustling plastic sound came from his bulging left pocket. It was a cream-filled red bean bread.
“Fuck, what is this, Les Misérables? You don’t have eighteen hundred won?”
The owner clicked his tongue. Seeing how the boy couldn’t even put up a proper fight made him sigh involuntarily. He was so thin. Despite being a guy, his spindly limbs had no strength at all. Just like a thief who stole a piece of bread worth less than two thousand won.
Furthermore, rainwater dripped from his clothes, which were soaked through from the rain. He shouldn’t have let him into the store in the first place. Glaring at the limp petty thief, the owner slapped his hand with the flyswatter as if venting his frustration.
“Put it down, you punk! Let go!”
Even while being hit with the flyswatter, the boy did not let go of the stolen bread. Instead, he gripped it tightly, nearly crushing it, determined not to let it be taken away.
“I guess he’s a beggar.”
One of the whispering customers chuckled while watching the chaotic scene. At that ridicule, the boy, who had been screaming as he tried to wrench his neck free, suddenly went quiet.
He stared blankly at his own reflection in the old glass door. Because his focus was blurred, it almost looked as if he were looking past the door at the torrential rain pouring outside.
“What—hey, you brat!”
Then, he suddenly pulled out the stolen red bean bread and began stuffing it into his mouth. The boy seemed to be out of his mind. The chuckling voices mocked him, saying he seemed crazy. The more they did, the faster his hands moved to shove the bread in.
“Hey! Stop it!”
At his outrageous behavior, the owner shrieked and swung the flyswatter. The boy, chewing the bread still in its plastic wrapper, saw the flyswatter coming toward his face and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Ah…!”
However, the groan came from the owner holding the flyswatter. Along with the sound of the red plastic, aimed at the boy’s white face, thudding onto the floor.
“Excuse me.”
A low voice followed, filling the narrow store. An imposing aura emanated from the man who appeared, gripping the store owner’s wrist.
With the man’s appearance alone, the noisy store instantly fell silent. A man in a black suit, looking to be at least two meters tall. The owner was intimidated by him, while the customers’ curiosity doubled.
In truth, more striking than the suit, which looked expensive at a glance, was the man’s face. Even the children, who had been watching with interest, fell silent as if entranced.
Rustle.
It was the boy who broke the sudden silence. His jaw moved, still holding the bread—unwrapped, like a mouthpiece—in his mouth. It seemed he was trying to chew.
“Haon.”
At that moment, the man who held everyone’s attention called out to him.
“Haon.”
Surprisingly tenderly.
“You’re not supposed to eat that.”
Ignoring the man, Haon chewed the plastic wrapper until it tore. Watching this, the man released the stunned owner’s wrist and took out a wallet. As he nonchalantly pulled out a white check, the owner’s rising anger melted away.
“Including everything they’re holding.”
Pointing with his chin toward the customers, he handed the check to the owner and asked.
“Is this insufficient?”
“Ah, no. It’s plenty.”
There weren’t many customers, so even combined, the items they held didn’t amount to thirty thousand won. One quick-witted middle schooler tried to sneakily grab an expensive snack. He was the one who had chuckled, calling Haon a beggar.
“Except for that brat’s.”
Pointed out by a thick index finger, the middle schooler hesitantly put the snack back. His friends, each grabbing one more snack, excitedly left the store. The couple who had been picking out beef jerky were stopped by the owner and only took the snacks.
“Ah, open.”
The man, who had helped Haon up, lightly tapped the boy’s pointed chin with his fingertip. It was a signal to open his mouth, but Haon, his eyes glazed over, was too busy chewing the bread. Through the torn plastic, the savory crust and sweet red bean grains were leaking out tantalizingly.
He wanted to eat more. Much more. Until this maddening hunger was filled.
“Why are you eating something dirty?”
The man forced open the saliva-covered lips and pulled out the mashed bread wrapper. He kissed the corner of Haon’s eye, where tears were now dripping, and whispered.
“When you have something good right in front of you.”
So heartbreakingly.
The moment the soft lips touched, Haon closed his eyes and failed to hear the words the man added. Without seeing the man’s expression, which was genuinely heartbroken, he lost consciousness.
“I’m hungry….”
Pitifully repeating the same words he had said when he first met the man.