* * *

“Looks pretty stupid.”

As he muttered this, a familiar voice called out.

“Oh? Yeongdeok!”

Yeongdeok looked up from his phone to see a familiar face with jet-black hair and large, earnest eyes.

“You’re here for the festival too?”

It was Eungyeol, someone he’d once liked because of PetitRolang.

A breeze blew, and his hair fluttered like silk in the sunlight.

Without saying anything, Yeongdeok simply stared at him.

Every encounter with him seemed to happen by chance, as if fate had set it up, and he disliked it.

It felt like the story was pushing them together.

As he walked past without acknowledging Eungyeol, he heard him following along behind.

“Did you come here for Jihoon?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

The tone was as chilly as ice.

Yeongdeok quickened his pace, making Eungyeol almost run to keep up.

“Um, Yeongdeok…!”

Now treating him as though he didn’t exist, Yeongdeok didn’t respond.

The ‘Yeongdeok’ Eungyeol knew wasn’t someone who would avoid people just because they’d been rejected.

On the contrary, he’d usually act confidently.

But the way he’d been avoiding him lately made Eungyeol think.

It was as if he was too aware of him.

Yeongdeok had changed after Eungyeol had turned him down.

Jihoon kept insisting it had nothing to do with him, but Eungyeol was convinced he’d caused it.

Conviction is a powerful motivator.

Bracing himself, Eungyeol called after him with more determination.

“Yeongdeok…!”

But as he ran to catch up, his foot snagged on an empty can on the ground, and he stumbled hard.

“Ah, damn…”

Someone must have carelessly left their trash there.

His face hit the ground, and pain shot through his bones.

People around began to glance over.

Scraped hands and knees stung, but the humiliation of the blood trickling down his nose stung more.

Yet, even then, Yeongdeok didn’t look his way.

Ignored in his pain, Eungyeol suddenly felt a pang of sorrow.

Despite hearing the thud and groan, Yeongdeok kept walking, as if he wouldn’t stop even if Eungyeol was doing cartwheels.

But his thoughts were entirely on him.

In his quest for revenge on PetitRolang, he’d worked tirelessly to ruin this story, avoiding any ties with Eungyeol as part of that.

He didn’t want to do anything that might please PetitRolang.

But along the way, something inside him had begun to shift. And that made him stop.

Logic told him to keep walking, but a small voice urged him to check.

Annoyed by the tension building in his muscles, he finally turned around.

He could see, even from a distance, that Eungyeol was hurt.

Ignoring him would be the right thing.

But seeing him all scratched up, his feet moved of their own accord, taking him to Eungyeol’s side.

“How pathetic. How can you trip over nothing?”

With a sigh of exasperation, Yeongdeok looked at him, though his tone was laced with a hint of concern.

Eungyeol, taken aback, managed a reply.

“There was a can… And you were walking really fast.”

“I wasn’t even going that fast.”

“Ha… You’re really merciless, even at times like this.”

Eungyeol let out a chuckle, blood dripping from his nose.

To an outsider, it might seem strange that he was laughing, but he couldn’t help it.

Embarrassment had outweighed the pain, and somehow, Yeongdeok acknowledging him had lessened his shame.

Yeongdeok extended a hand to him, who was still crouched on the ground.

“Get up. Everyone’s staring at you.”

“Thank you.”

Grasping Yeongdeok’s hand, Eungyeol rose to his feet, wobbling as he leaned against Yeongdeok for support.

Since all the nearby chairs and benches were occupied, he quickly sat on a nearby circular bollard and began assessing his state.

His hands, arms, knees, and face—nowhere was spared.

“How does someone your age manage to hurt themselves this much just from a fall…?”

Yeongdeok was genuinely impressed; even a five-year-old falling off a bike wouldn’t likely get hurt this badly.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

Eungyeol had no real reason to apologize, but with Yeongdeok looking at him with such a reproachful expression, the words naturally spilled out.

Facing Yeongdeok, he began wiping the dried blood from his nose, using his phone screen as a mirror.

Seeing his battered face contrasted against Yeongdeok’s immaculate appearance only made him feel more pitiful.

“I must look terrible, huh? Sorry for showing you this side of me…”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

Eungyeol stopped mid-swipe, his hand frozen as he rubbed the blood encrusted on his upper lip.

He hadn’t expected Yeongdeok to ask if he was okay.

He’d thought he’d just tell him to get his face out of sight if he found it so unpleasant.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“Hospital?”

Again, Eungyeol froze.

He hadn’t expected those words from Yeongdeok either.

He’d thought he’d just tell him to tough it out and deal with it on his own.

“Why do you keep repeating everything? Can’t you understand the first time? How pathetic.”

That last part—now, that was just like the Yeongdeok he knew.

Laughter slipped out between Eungyeol’s lips.

“Why do you keep laughing? Did you hit your head too?”

“Just because.”

They hadn’t exchanged anything profound, but for a brief moment, Eungyeol felt like things had returned to the way they used to be.

Though much had changed since then.

“Thank you for your concern.”

“I wasn’t concerned about you.”

“Maybe you don’t think so, but you were.”

With calm certainty, Eungyeol spoke, much like he had when they first met, brimming with confidence.

To Yeongdeok, that confidence seemed almost arrogant.

“The hospital’s fine, but could you at least take me to the infirmary?”

“Surely you can ask one of your friends to do that?”

Yeongdeok knew Eungyeol had plenty of connections.

Surely, if he reached out, someone would come to his aid.

“Please.”

But Eungyeol clasped his hands together, appealing directly to Yeongdeok.

After hesitating a moment, Yeongdeok eventually offered his shoulder for support.

While Eungyeol received treatment in the infirmary, Yeongdeok waited outside, arms crossed, lost in thought.

He wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do.

Surely, PetitRolang was somewhere laughing at him right now.

Pulling out his phone, he checked PetitRolang’s social media.

There hadn’t been any new posts after the announcement about his upcoming work; not on Bluebird, Starlight, or FacePage—no trace of him anywhere.

What was the point of that post, anyway?

He was still trying to figure it out, when the infirmary door opened and Eungyeol came out, his face and body dotted with gauze and bandages.

“I was worried you’d left, but I’m relieved you waited.”

Eungyeol sighed in relief and stood by his side.

“Why would it matter to you if I left or not?”

“I wanted to talk with you, you know. There’s no guarantee that you’ll speak with me like this again the next time we meet…”

“And what could you possibly want to know?”

“I was wondering… Did I have any influence on how you’ve changed?”

Looking over Yeongdeok’s attire and hairstyle, Eungyeol’s question was direct.

The old Yeongdeok wouldn’t have worn cheap striped shirts from online shops or gone for that clumsy hairstyle.

Changing his name, starting a fried chicken restaurant—these were all things the old Dowon would never have done.

“And why would you ask that?”

“If it’s because you were hurt by me rejecting you, then… maybe I do bear a little responsibility.”

“This has nothing to do with you. Besides, why would my change be your responsibility? If someone you rejected committed a crime, would you take responsibility for that too? Pull yourself together.”

“You’re right…”

One phrase from Yeongdeok hit him like a wake-up call.

But the fact that he felt any sense of responsibility at all was because this was Yeongdeok.

If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have felt this way.

Ever since Yeongdeok started changing, he’d been on his mind more and more.

* * *