GBH 13

When told to pick a place he wanted to go, Se-kyung took them to a private café near the school. Its main feature was an antique interior with elegant Western-style decorations placed throughout. After settling the bill and sitting down in a secluded corner, Kim Deuk-pal covered his eyes with his palms. Keeping up with school lessons was already difficult, and trying to make up for what Song Yi-heon had caused drained him.

He hadn’t known it would be difficult to beat up the students who tormented Song Yi-heon. To be honest, he enjoyed hitting Hong Jae-min, but sly Choi Se-kyung, who seemed unbothered on the surface, already had dark circles under his eyes. How much did he know? Or was he just fishing for clues? Deuk-pal couldn’t concentrate on class, too preoccupied with guessing Se-kyung’s true intentions.

Kim Deuk-pal spread his fingers slightly, peeking through them. Se-kyung, who had just returned with their ordered drinks and a slice of cake, placed his bag on the seat opposite him. While Kim Deuk-pal had nothing with him since he had to return for evening study, Se-kyung, who was heading home, had his school bag.

“Eat a lot. Last time we were at a café, you paid.”

“You should eat too.”

The adult should take the first bite, and then the kids will follow suit, right? Deuk-pal, wanting Se-kyung to eat comfortably, picked up a fork and pretended to take a bite. The fruit-crowned cake was cute enough to tickle Kim Deuk-pal’s nose. Kim Deuk-pal bit his tongue, thinking only about the price of the cake in his hand.

Although he’d climbed up to become the right-hand man of a gang boss and was financially stable, having started from the very bottom with nothing, he still unconsciously looked for value for money. He was displeased that this tiny cake, which wouldn’t even fill him up, cost as much as a hearty bowl of soup.

“Why would anyone pay for something like this?  I’d rather have a warm bowl of rice.”

Despite his grumbling, a moment later, Kim Deuk-pal was scraping the crumbs off the empty plate with his fork.

“Want some?”

When Se-kyung moved the cake he didn’t touch, Kim Deuk-pal awkwardly coughed. Maybe it was due to his age, but lately, he found himself craving sweet things that he hadn’t even looked at before. Not turning down the cheesecake that was offered to him, Deuk-pal took a bite. The thick texture made his mouth water, and as he chewed, he hesitantly brought up the topic.

Rather than stirring up unnecessary trouble, he planned to address the confession that Song Yi-heon supposedly made.

“Uh, about that confession…”

Though Deuk-pal was straight, he didn’t have any issues with homosexuality. He had once run nightclubs, and during the heyday of adult entertainment, he managed clubs affiliated with his gang. He had encountered all sorts of people—from sex addicts to those who were both male and female in different ways—and this had made him open-minded when it came to sexuality.

Since Song Yi-heon had suffered from being outed, Kim Deuk-pal assumed that his confession was also a love confession.

“You remember when I got hurt in winter, right? I hit my head back then.”

Choi Se-kyung looked up with just his eyes while still sipping on the straw. Feeling guilty about lying, Kim Deuk-pal just cut into the innocent cake.

Kim Deuk-pal believed that Choi Se-kyung liked women so much that he even carried a handkerchief sprayed with perfume. Knowing that subordinates who liked women often despised homosexuals, he categorized Se-kyung in the same group. So, thinking Se-kyung would be upset by a boy’s confession, he came up with an excuse after much deliberation.

“So, I don’t really remember well.”

“You mean you don’t remember confessing?”

He was going to pretend he didn’t remember, but when Se-kyung rested his chin on his hand and asked, Kim Deuk-pal felt like he was being seen through. Feeling that the original Song Yi-heon had made the confession but he had to deal with the aftermath, Kim Deuk-pal rubbed his sweaty palms on his school uniform pants.

“Um… so, can we just pretend it never happened?”

“Hmm…”

“You’re a high school senior. There’s no time for romance with all the studying we have to do.”

It seemed as if Kim Deuk-pal was nervously rejecting a proposal that Se-kyung had made to date. Se-kyung stirred the straw or sipped silently as if in deep thought, making Kim Deuk-pal’s blood run cold. As he anxiously waited for an answer, Kim Deuk-pal found himself observing Choi Se-kyung more closely.

Like his long, delicate fingers holding the cup, his well-proportioned body and features were noticeable even in an ordinary school uniform shirt, fitting well with the cafe’s faded atmosphere like a painting. Kim Deuk-pal could understand why the original Song Yi-heon had fallen for someone so attractive to people of all ages and genders, but he cursed Song Yi-heon’s soul, wherever it might be, for falling for such an unfathomable fox.

After a long while, Se-kyung put down his cup and rested his chin on his hand.

Choi Se-kyung had spotted Kim Deuk-pal from behind at a bookstore. Drawn by his similar height and build to Song Yi-heon, he approached. However, due to the short hair and face that looked like a middle schooler’s, he thought it wasn’t Song Yi-heon. Still unable to let go, he approached by recommending a workbook, and as they talked, he became more convinced it wasn’t Song Yi-heon. Aside from looks, his unique way of speaking and behavior were clearly different from Song Yi-heon’s.

“Song Yi-heon was peculiar. He stared at me openly for two years because he liked me. Thanks to that, I was aware of him too.”

No one else might have known, but Se-kyung, who had been subjected to what felt like stalking by Song Yi-heon’s intense interest, couldn’t help but be aware.

“People can change after a major accident. I heard he was hospitalized for two months. I tried to be understanding, thinking maybe I was just being sensitive. But when I think about what Song Yi-heon did to me before, I just can’t believe it’s the same person.”

Se-kyung stared blankly at the stiffened Kim Deuk-pal.

“You’re not Song Yi-heon, are you?”

He revealed the doubt he had hidden behind smiles all this time.

**

December 23, 20XX.

During the time when Kim Deuk-pal still had his own body, an incident occurred while he was receiving private tutoring from a well-known tutor in Daechi-dong in a traditional Korean house.

Contrary to the weather forecast predicting snow, heavy rain poured down on the streets of December.

The cold winter rain, swept by bitter winds, cut through like it could freeze bones. The atmosphere, dampened by the end-of-year holiday mood, was colored by neglected streetlights, casting darkness over the streets of Yongsan-gu. In a residential area, a boy in white pajamas ran through the dark street, soaking in the cold rain. The boy’s bare white feet splashed through puddles of collected rainwater. His lips, exhaling white breath, were pale blue.

At the same time, in a nearby detached house, another boy sat slanted, reading a book. His height was tall for his age, and his broad shoulders draped in a loose-knit sweater gave him the appearance of a young man, though the fine baby hairs near his ears and his delicate profile still held traces of youthful charm.

On the desk beside him, a laptop was open, with a messenger window constantly updating. Even though Se-kyung had returned to Korea, the kids he had befriended during his language exchange trip to Canada wouldn’t remove him from the group chat. In fact, they were excitedly posting pictures they had taken with him during the last vacation and were making plans for Se-kyung to visit again after New Year’s.

However, despite having his laptop propped up, Choi Se-kyung didn’t say anything. The muted laptop maintained silence.

Raindrops heavily battered the windows, but inside the room, the only regular noise was the muted sound of pages turning. The room, designed for its sound-sensitive occupant, had thick soundproofing walls. Unless one strained to listen, it was impossible to tell that it was raining outside.

The reason Se-kyung missed Korea while living in Canada was his room, where he could rest peacefully thanks to perfect soundproofing, not his parents or the food.

Unlike Song Yi-heon, Choi Se-kyung was sensitive. However, the difference was that Se-kyung had the stamina to manage his sensitivity and parents who could take care of him.

Knock, knock.

A soft knocking broke the silence. In the midst of perfect quiet, Se-kyung’s nerves, which had been relaxed, suddenly tightened. His usually indifferent features twitched slightly. Just like a stone causing ripples in a still lake, the sound of knocking was an unwelcome disturbance. Se-kyung would’ve preferred to remove the stone from the lake and crush it, but he had never acted on such impulses before.