BHB 83

-He’s my son, but—I don’t feel any attachment. When I see him, it reminds me of my more desperate past. It wasn’t even a planned child. What? You want a child? Really? Hmm— If it looks like you… that might not be so bad?

With a playful voice, his mother laughed even more coquettishly. After listening to the affectionate conversation and the sound of lips meeting for quite some time, Yeowon sniffed awkwardly once and ended the call.

The alcohol tasted even stronger now. At times like this, his only thought was that it was fortunate his parents at least gave him money. Later, he suspected they’d forget even that. Maybe he should extort enough money to live comfortably for life and open a café with Lee Taegang. Or an internet café… a comic book café would be nice too.

Then, he laughed emptily at the realization that Lee Taegang’s name had become a familiar fixture in hi, otherwise blank future.

Suddenly it occurred to him: What would I do without that guy?

He was muttering to himself like a madman, lost in such absurd thoughts, when he started to hear irritating noises. Laughter that wasn’t his own echoed unpleasantly. It was definitely directed at him. Yeowon was exceptionally good at picking up on things like that. Giggles and snickers. Thanks to his wild school days, he had a knack for sensing whether someone was being malicious, mocking him, or about to start a fight.

Yeowon paused his drinking and expressionlessly looked toward the source of the sound. A group was gathered near the convenience store entrance, giggling. They looked familiar… where had he seen them? Blurry faces with no distinguishing features. Even their backward fashion sense, wearing clothes no one would wear even if given for free.

Normally he wouldn’t associate with such people, but they were familiar. Suddenly, he made direct eye contact with one of the snickering individuals. Immediately, the man erased his smile and averted his gaze. 

‘Why provoke if you’re just going to cower?’ 

Yeowon stared at them directly with genuine curiosity. As they increasingly avoided his gaze, Yeowon felt a surge of irritation. Already in a foul mood, he stood up abruptly and turned toward the group, annoyed at being bothered.

As Yeowon approached, the three gathered individuals flinched and pretended not to notice, backing away and moving in the opposite direction.

“Hey,” he called out carelessly to the retreating figures. “Stop right there.”

“… Us?”

“Who else… is there anyone else here?”

It was in front of the convenience store, but it was late and there were few people around. Just the three of them and himself, standing alone.

“What is it?”

Upon seeing the face of the one who asked with false confidence, he remembered. It was the person who had played childish pranks in the lecture hall recently. 

Yeowon laughed hollowly and pointed at his face. “It’s you from then.”

“W-what?”

‘This is why, damn it. You should never let them off easy. Men always try to take advantage when you’re nice to them.’

“Hand it over.”

Today he wasn’t in the mood to let anything slide. Back then, he had laughed it off as a joke, because he was an adult now. At this age, he had come to understand that patience and restraint could also be a form of winning.

But not today. Of all days, his mother had told him not to cause trouble, his mood was extremely unsettled and gloomy, and the snickering laughter had lodged precisely in his mind. He was already on edge, and that had become the trigger.

“I said hand it over, you bastard.”

He had never been as fierce in university as he had been in high school. He had only confronted a few unpleasant seniors. He had almost never been this openly hostile and confrontational, like he was today.

“W-what am I supposed to hand over?”

The guy seemed to sense the unusual atmosphere and cowered, even though there were three of them.

“I’ll count to three.”

“…”

“One.”

Yeowon folded one finger without further comment.

“Two.”

“Ha. T-this is ridiculous…”

He folded his second finger. The hand of the person holding “that item” trembled slightly.

“Three.”

“… Who are you to tell me to hand over anything?” Though trying to maintain some dignity, the person sneered with quivering pupils.

“I said three.”

Without hesitation, Yeowon kicked him directly in the abdomen. For reference, he had occasionally trained in martial arts since middle school. He seemed to have tried every sport a man could learn, martial arts, boxing, judo, he had dabbled in them all.

“Ugh!!”

“Whoa.”

“Jun-seong!”

As the middle guy went flying, those on either side flinched in shock. Regardless, Yeowon approached the person who had fallen to the ground and easily snatched the phone he was guarding like a gold nugget. Then, roughly slapping the cheek of the still choking individual, he thrust the phone screen in front of his face.

“Unlock it.”

After getting hit, the last shred of audacity he had to ask who Yeowon was to tell him what to do disappeared, and the guy trembled as he entered the password. His entire body trembled as though he’d seen a ghost. Finding this pathetic, Yeowon struck his head again in irritation.

The others nearby couldn’t say anything despite watching their friend get beaten, and simply trembled while watching Yeowon’s reactions. With an annoyed expression, Yeowon fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and put it in his mouth. After lighting it in one go, he briefly looked through the unlocked phone screen.

Though brief, he had clearly seen it with his own eyes. The guy’s phone camera had been pointed at him. And they had been giggling about it repeatedly. It was obvious.

Since he had turned off the screen as soon as their eyes met, the app that had been open was still there when he unlocked it. The open application was none other than the Outstar SNS, and as Yeowon swiped through the screen, he checked the guy’s story displayed at the top.

There was a picture of him drinking, with the caption “Daehan University faggot lololololol.”

He was really upset today. On days like this, he had absolutely no intention of letting things slide. Yeowon struck the guy’s face again while holding the phone. A dull thud echoed rather than a sharp smack.

“Ugh―!”

The guy’s mouth started to bleed after only getting hit a couple of times.

“You bastard. Who told you to take pictures of others without permission?”

Straddling the guy who was lying down, Yeowon struck his already-bruising cheek again tauntingly.

“Why are you taking my picture? Hey. Do you like me?”

“N-no, ugh!”

“Or do you want to get screwed by a ‘f*ggot’?”

With each statement, Yeowon roughly hit the same side of his face. The others on either side clasped their hands respectfully, terrified by the chilling sound that made listeners tense.

“You want me to do you, right? That’s why you keep fluttering around me.”

Yeowon smiled maliciously and unbuttoned the guy’s pants. At the clicking sound, all three froze in shock. Only the victim himself tried to stop Yeowon with trembling hands, looking like he might cry at any moment.

“Want me to do you? Should I really screw you?”

“N-no! No! Really no! I was just joking…”

“No?”

When Yeowon paused and asked innocently, the other nodded his head quickly like a doll.

“Y-yes. Th-that’s right. Really. J-just a joke. Sorry. Really sorry.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Yes… R-really. I’m s-sorry. Really!”

“Well then… okay. I understand.”

Yeowon looked down at the guy who was desperately apologizing with his already swollen face, and suddenly nodded as if agreeing. The guy’s pale complexion briefly relaxed at this compliance, but soon began to tense again.

“I’ve accepted your apology.”

“… Huh?”

“Then you’ll accept my apology too.”

“… Huh?”

“Answer me.”

“… W-what…?”

“Since I accepted yours, you should accept mine too.”

The guy’s face gradually turned ashen at this ominous wordplay. Yeowon liked this kind of expression—the transformation from a smug, arrogant face to a deathly pale one.

“I’m so f*cking sorry, man.”

With a crooked smile, Yeowon struck the guy’s jaw again with his fist holding the phone. The same spot, over and over. Once.

Slap!! Twice. And three times. When you hit someone repeatedly, you can feel it at the end of your fist—which part of their face is giving way, whether teeth are coming loose, whether the nose bone is twisting.

“Hey. I said I’m sorry.”

He wanted to call him by name, but he didn’t know it. Yeowon muttered vaguely while staring intensely at the side of his face that was turning blackish-red as if rotting. By the third hit, the guy’s eyes rolled back and he slowly lost consciousness. The others nearby, rather than trying to stop him, crouched down and began to flee, trembling like bugs.

His mood was so terrible that he couldn’t stop his fists. Hitting him didn’t make him feel better; it only made his anger rise. As the sound of striking bone continued aimlessly, suddenly his hand stopped in mid-air. Stopped by physical force.

“That’s enough.”

Yeowon exhaled an irritated breath and tilted his head at an angle. The one who stopped him was none other than Baek Seungha. He was firmly gripping his wrist with a troubled expression.