Chapter 37

The final dismissal bell had already passed, leaving the school grounds quiet. Only the faint sound of an instrument drifted down the hallway every now and then, likely from an after-school practice session. It was a familiar piece. In fact, it was a classical melody so famous and ubiquitous that he doubted anyone wouldn’t recognize it. Even to an untrained ear like Gong Jio’s, the playing sounded quite impressive. It probably wasn’t just an ordinary hobby class, but a student preparing for arts high school admissions.

Just as his eyes were sensitive, his hearing was exceptionally sharp. The more attention he paid, the clearer the distant melody became. A truly ordinary, run-of-the-mill piece of music. Theirs was an age when kids desperately wanted to blend in without sticking out, yet simultaneously yearned to feel special. Kwon Ingyu, for instance, would brag whenever a new trend surfaced, boasting that he already knew all about it, that it was no big deal and he was already sick of it.

Yet Gong Jio actually liked things that were common and predictable. He had no need to invent differences to feel special; in every possible way, he was already fundamentally different from everyone else. He already stuck out like a sore thumb. He had gone from an elementary schooler to a middle schooler, yet still…

“You’re back?”

Gong Jio stopped in his tracks, looking at Cha Gyuhan, who was rocking back on two legs of his chair at Jio’s desk, reading a comic book.

I’m still infamous, and you’re just as famous.

“Man, this is good no matter how many times I read it. Can’t I just come over to your place and read the rest together? For real?”

And we’re still completely different.

Whether this was an inferiority complex between friends, quiet envy, or simply a difference he had come to accept, Jio couldn’t say. All he knew was that lately, his sore throat, the constant ache in his growing bones, and his frequent surges of temper weighed on him far too heavily.

“Ah, fine, fine. You can’t—”

“Let’s go.”

At Jio’s reply, Gyuhan whipped his head around in shock.

Jio asked the wide-eyed boy staring at him, “What are you staring at with that dumb look on your face?”

“Really? For real, I can come over?”

“Sure. If you survive.”

“What?”

Before Gyuhan could ask what that was supposed to mean, Jio walked over and tapped the chair leg with his toe. In an instant, the tilted chair lost its balance and slipped. Gyuhan tumbled down along with it, ending up on the floor with one leg draped over the toppled chair and one hand braced against the desk. Even though he could have taken a nasty spill, he didn’t get angry; instead, his grinning eyes fixed straight on Gong Jio.

“Sweet! No changing your mind halfway through!”

“Then no regretting it later.”

When Jio extended a hand, Gyuhan grabbed it and yanked hard. Holding his ground against the pull, Jio stared down at the snickering Gyuhan.

You think this is a joke. I’m completely serious. Yet in the end, a faint, resigned smile slipped past Jio’s lips. So you’re finally leaving. At last. I’ve waited so long for this day.

To be disappointed meant you had harbored expectations; harboring expectations meant getting your hopes up; and getting your hopes up meant acting like a foolish child.

Gong Jio would rather take a beating by his own hand than endure the sight of himself wallowing in disappointment. It was far better for his pride, and ridiculous though it was, it allowed him to sneer and say I knew you’d do that. Whether that was genuine mockery or sheer wretchedness was something for his future self to judge.

Even so, his footsteps dragged to a slow crawl the moment they stepped past the school gates.

“Why don’t you go to hagwon?”

Along the street they had to pass stood a newly built commercial complex, and the entire block surrounding it was packed with private academies. Jio obviously couldn’t attend because he couldn’t afford it, but he had no idea why Cha Gyuhan didn’t go. The sole reason Gyuhan ever set foot in the hagwon district was that the made-to-order tteokbokki joint there was dirt cheap and served massive portions.

“Ugh, studying is boring as hell. Hey, Jio-ya, if a guy spends all day sleeping through class at school, is he really gonna pay attention at a hagwon?”

“You should. You’re paying extra money for it.”

“Uh-uh. That’s not how you calculate things with money! What matters is the deep, unbreakable bond between master and disciple. Ever heard of Dusabuilche?”

“King, Teacher, and Father Are One’, (Gunsabuilche)[1] Dusabuilche is a movie title.”

“Huh? Then what’s the ‘Du’ for? ‘Sabu’ means master, right? So what’s ‘Du’? Tofu? Ah, okay. Two masters? Got it.”

Gong Jio didn’t bother responding. In the first place, ‘sabu‘ in that idiom wasn’t just some martial arts master… and there were simply too many errors to correct.

“Studying isn’t for me, it’s for guys like you.”

Cha Gyuhan was already well accustomed to Jio ignoring his rambling. He likely figured he had gotten something wrong again, but that it wasn’t important enough to warrant a correction. Slapping an arm around Jio’s shoulders, Gyuhan beamed broadly.

“You’re crazy smart, so why don’t you go to hagwon instead of hanging out with me?”

Are you really asking because you don’t know? How could tuition money possibly come from Gong Seongju’s shithole of a household, where the only asset was physical flesh? In fact, even the school lunch fees were paid with money his uncle earned by selling his body.

Gong Jio offered no answer this time either. Once again, Cha Gyuhan assumed he had asked a silly question that wasn’t worth correcting—wholly unaware that some truths were so heavy they simply could not be spoken.

“Hey! Cha Gyuhan!”

Just then, someone shouted from across the hagwon street.

A loud, obnoxious voice without a shred of self-awareness—Kwon Ingyu.

Gong Jio clicked his tongue without even looking over. Still slinging his arm around Jio’s shoulder, Cha Gyuhan—a guy who seemed incapable of disliking a single soul on earth—shot an arm up and waved back enthusiastically.

“Kwon Ingyu!”

“Where are you headed?! If you’ve got nothing to do, want to grab some tteokbokki?!”

Kwon Ingyu could clearly see Gyuhan wasn’t alone, yet he addressed and invited only him. Even if Ingyu’s bragging about having 20/10 uncorrected vision was only half true, anyone with basic 20/20 sight could easily tell the person next to Gyuhan was Gong Jio. The snub was blatantly intentional.

“No-no! I’m going to Jio’s place!”

This fucking idiot.

Jio had been about to sneer at Ingyu’s transparent, childish maneuver, only for his face to instantly freeze.

“Awesome, right? Jealous?”

What’s awesome about it, and why would he be jealous? Are you bragging like you’re going on a date with your lover or something?

Stunned by the sheer absurdity, Gong Jio looked back at Gyuhan. Feeling his stare, Gyuhan flashed a goofy grin.

“That bastard’s definitely gonna be jealous, right? I asked around, and nobody’s ever been to your house. I’m the very first and the only one.”

Of course you are, shithead. Because I’ve never invited anyone.

Yet if he pointed that out here, Gyuhan would only puff out his chest even more. He would probably cross the street just to blabber on. I’m the first person in this entire neighborhood to go to Gong Jio’s house! Didn’t you say you went to the same daycare as him? You might have more years on me, but our friendship is way deeper. By the way, did you know it’s Gunsabuilche, not Dusabuilche? I get the ‘sabu’ part, but what are ‘du’ and ‘gun’?—babbling endlessly without pause.

“Cha Gyuhan.”

So Jio tugged on Gyuhan’s sleeve, speaking as sweetly as he could muster through clenched teeth.

“Let’s hurry up and go. Okay?”

Coincidentally, it bore an uncanny resemblance to a sulking lover trying to hide their frustration while coyly pleading for attention…

While both Gong Jio and Cha Gyuhan were among the tallest boys in their class, between the two of them, Gyuhan was slightly taller. At least, that was the case back then. Taken aback by the gentle tone of Jio looking up at him to ask, Gyuhan found himself nodding in a frantic rush.

“Hey, hey! Cha Gyuhan! Gyu! You’re going to Gong Jio’s house?!”

Kwon Ingyu—who had insisted on calling them “Gyu-Gyu” just because both their names shared the syllable Gyu, desperately trying to manufacture some special bond—shouted as if his feet were on fire, but Gyuhan merely waved him off with an annoyed flick of his hand.

Watching Ingyu carry on like that, it was obvious that if Gyuhan kept rambling, Ingyu would have whined, Then let me come too! We’re friends, why are you leaving me out? And Gyuhan, without a second thought, would have agreed.

Relieved to have dodged that bullet and desperate to escape the area, Gong Jio picked up his pace—and against his own wishes, his arrival at home was drawing near much faster than usual…

Yet standing before the long staircase leading up to his house, another heavy sigh escaped him.

Cha Gyuhan, brimming with boundless energy, hopped up the concrete stairs two at a time. Gong Jio trudged along behind him, weighed down by an unspeakable exhaustion. All I did was go to school and head back home, so why do I feel completely drained? Pinching the bridge of his nose right between his eyes, Jio looked up as Gyuhan turned around and spouted another clueless remark.

“Hey. Wanna play rock-paper-scissors to see who climbs faster?”

“We’d never get home at that rate.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’s not like we have to go all the way to the very top.”

“My house is the one at the very top.”

“…”

Gyuhan smacked his lips and fell silent.

It was a small mercy, given the tangled mess inside Gong Jio’s head. He had no room to spare for childish games like rock-paper-scissors. If shrieking moans echoed across the courtyard the second they stepped in, he had zero confidence in keeping a straight face. If that happened, he might genuinely barge into the room and beat his uncle half to death, family or not. What if the man died? Did patricide or murdering a relative carry an aggravated sentence? Wait, was he currently under the age of criminal responsibility? Ah, fuck. Why did I ever say he could come over? I must have lost my mind. Should I just shove him down the stairs right now?

Unaware of the chaotic spiral in Jio’s mind, Gyuhan began to whine beside him with a miserable pout.

“Hey, Jio-ya. I’m starving. We should’ve stopped by Oseong Supermarket first. Should we go back down now? We’re only halfway up anyway.”

“Forget it.”

Gong Jio cut him off instantly.

Based on past precedent, if they went to Oseong Supermarket, Gyuhan would charm the old lady and her daughter with his shameless banter until they fed him dinner—which would line up precisely with Gong Seongju’s peak hours of activity. Peak activity here didn’t mean anything productive like earning a living, but rather the hours he spent rolling around in bed with whoever he brought home.

Gyuhan possessed a stubborn, relentless streak, and since he didn’t attend any academies, telling him to head home because it was late wouldn’t work. Above all, Gyuhan likely knew that if he missed this chance, Jio would never invite him again. On top of that, since he was leaving soon… he wouldn’t let this final opportunity slip away without a fight.

Right. The last time.

Gong Jio gritted his teeth at the thought.

Since this was the end, he would honor his word out of respect for the time they had spent together. No matter what mess they walked into—fuck it, everyone in the neighborhood already knew anyway. What difference did it make if Gyuhan saw it? There was no need to fear rumors spreading, and if seeing the reality made Gyuhan lose all affection for him, then that was simply the kind of person he was.

Busily carving preemptive scars into his own heart, Gong Jio threw out a compromise.

“I’ll boil some ramyeon for you when we get there, so stop whining.”

Gyuhan didn’t take offense at being told to stop whining. His face lit up at the mere mention of ramyeon.

“Hell yeah! Hanging out at Gong Jio’s house and eating ramyeon!”

The closer they got to the house, the quieter Jio became. Yet even with his rigid expression, his hands turning ice-cold, and his lips pressed into a tight line, Gyuhan found nothing strange about it. That was just how Gong Jio always was, with a face virtually devoid of expression, skin so pale one wondered if he even sweated in the summer heat, and a mouth that shut whenever he pleased.

I’m losing my mind.

Thanks to that, Jio managed to conceal the fact that he had completely lost his composure.

He was in such a state of sheer panic that even as he pushed through the warped, ill-fitting gate that was left permanently ajar—if one could even call that rickety slab a gate—his mind was consumed entirely by one thought. Was Gong Seongju home, and were there moans coming from inside?

“…Haa.”

Without even checking whether his guest had finished climbing the steps, Jio rushed inside, only letting out a breath once he confirmed the house was utterly silent.

Yet the moment he caught his breath, reality crashed down on him anew.

The creaking doors, the gloomy, musty stench hanging over the entire house, the warped and buckled linoleum, the torn, peeling wallpaper with black mold festering underneath… Did Cha Gyuhan like horror movies?! Just as Jio grew desperate enough to pray that Gyuhan was some hardcore horror buff obsessed with abandoned ruins, an eerie sound echoed from behind him.