“I must be crazy, shit, what is this. No, I’ve really never been like this before. Ah, damn it… shit, I’m telling you, you’re the one acting weird lately! I’ve never been like this toward you, ever!”
“Like what toward me?”
Jingi tilted his head slightly and fanned his neck with his hand.
His lips were dry and parched, so he licked them and opened his mouth to breathe, his half-closed eyes looking dazed.
Joo Unyoung watched him calmly, chin resting on his hand.
Jingi placed a hand on Baek Jaehui’s shoulder.
This time, he managed to turn the guy around with less effort.
“Ugh… you crazy bastard, you, you…!”
But once Baek Jaehui turned, he looked at Jingi, bit his lip, and opened his mouth wide before snapping it shut.
Jingi, whose cheeks were flushed red from the heat, was waving his shirt hem—flutter, flutter—and with every wave, a subtle scent of soap wafted out.
“Like what?”
“You’re fucking sexy!”
In the end, Baek Jaehui shrieked and bolted.
He had been clinging to him earlier, begging to eat together, but his back as he ran away—clutching his soccer bag tightly to his chest—looked quite desperate.
Jingi blinked blankly a few times before peeking outside.
Baek Jaehui was still running.
He’d just finished a soccer match; he sure is sturdy.
“Why is he like that?”
“Who knows.”
‘Is he a pervert?’
Jingi checked his face in his phone, but he was just a high school boy panting from the heat.
His bangs were messed up from when Joo Unyoung had pushed them back earlier, and with two buttons of his shirt undone, he just looked like a delinquent.
‘This is sexy? What on earth was he thinking about while playing soccer?’
“People only see what they want to see.”
“It’s hot, do you want to go to a cafe? Or go home?”
At Joo Unyoung’s words, Jingi quickly pushed Baek Jaehui out of his mind and fell into thought.
A cafe… Did he want to make up for the study time they missed?
When he glanced over, Joo Unyoung was standing up and dusting off his pants.
“Let’s have a cup of coffee. You’ll feel better if you drink something cold.”
“Hmm…”
Actually, Jingi couldn’t drink coffee.
Not the original Choi Jingi, but this Jingi.
Jingi, who had a sweet tooth, hadn’t yet realized the “joy” of an Americano.
Even at work, he was the type to pick milk from the vending machine instead of coffee.
But the Choi Jingi in the story always ordered iced Americanos, and that was a fact Joo Unyoung knew well.
A bitter man who couldn’t eat sweets and only drank iced Americanos… that wasn’t something he could just fake with acting.
People said it got better as you drank it, but he couldn’t understand why he had to keep drinking something painful just to make it taste good.
There were so many things that were delicious from the very first bite, weren’t there?
“I want to go home. I want to rest.”
“Really? Then let’s get some takeout.”
“Ah… should we? You paid for the meal, so I’ll pay for the coffee.”
He’d said that, but Jingi had to open his wallet feeling like he was 200,000 won in debt.
Jingi returned home with six iced coffees in his hands.
He gave one each to the security guards he was still not used to, and another two to the household staff who asked if he’d had lunch, leaving two left.
He had bought plenty because he wasn’t sure exactly how many people there were.
He was wondering what to do with the last two when a staff member organizing side dishes in the kitchen said, “Oh!” in a bright voice.
“Young master. The boss and your mother are home. You heard, right?”
His heart sank at the earth-shattering news.
He had completely forgotten.
He had spent so long living without parents that he hadn’t even considered their absence.
“Oh, both my mother and father?”
“Didn’t I mention it last time? They just arrived and are washing up.”
“I… knew. I bought these for them.”
Jingi hurriedly held out the two remaining coffees.
The staff member gave a small smile and took them, saying, “Oh, they’ll be happy.”
Wow, I nailed that. I really nailed that. How did exactly two remain?
It was worth the effort of buying six just so he could offer them to everyone in the house, all to hide the fact that he couldn’t drink coffee from Joo Unyoung.
It was like fate that exactly two remained.
It would have been awkward if only one had been left.
Jingi paced anxiously, wondering if he should wait for them, but after catching the eye of the staff member, he headed upstairs.
As soon as he entered, he dropped his bag and changed.
He swapped his uncomfortable shirt for a comfortable sweatshirt and his jeans for loose shorts.
Lying down on the bed immediately, his room—already cooled by the air conditioner—was nothing short of heaven.
‘Phew… haa.’
He let out a deep sigh.
‘What do I do?’
He had never seen Choi Jingi meet his parents in the story.
Did he use formal language?
Casual? What did he call them, and how did he act toward them?
Fortunately, his memories remained blurred but present.
He called them “Mother” and “Father.”
He always used formal language, and he didn’t see them often.
He didn’t have many memories of long conversations or even meals together.
Thus, he couldn’t recall their personalities or how Choi Jingi treated them.
There was another problem: since Choi Jingi was the son of a chaebol, they were wealthy.
As was typical in flashy chaebol families, they cared more about grades and competence than character.
Would they start talking about schoolwork the moment they saw him?
Asking if he’d chosen a major, telling him to go into business administration to inherit the company?
Being his parents, they might know him better than anyone else.
At school, he’d been categorized as a kid who failed at acting “perfect” or was just stressed by academics—but at home, it was different.
After deliberating for a long time, Jingi finally pulled himself up.
They were washing up earlier, so surely he could see them now?
For today, I’ll just say hello—just say hello.
I should ask how their trip was and observe what kind of people they are.
Jingi put on soft sweatpants and swapped his hoodie for a loose short-sleeved t-shirt.
‘Parents.’
He didn’t have a single memory of ever saying that word in his life.
Maybe when he was very young. Jingi lowered his head and looked at his hands.
Right, they weren’t really his parents, either.
They were practically strangers.
So, even if they treated him coldly, he wouldn’t be hurt.
His fingertips trembled slightly.
The hands he had just started to get used to felt unfamiliar all over again.
Even as a family, all he had were relatives who hated him and found him a burden.
Jingi had lost his parents when he was very young, and after that, he lived by rotating between relatives’ houses.
His only friend was a bold girl who lived next door, Kim Hyeyeon.
He hung out with her in middle school, but once he started attending an all-boys high school, he had no friends who spoke to him.
He was a kid who slept in class to work part-time jobs, and being thinner and smaller than the others made him an easy target for teasing.
His pretty face worked against him at an all-boys school.
They would constantly make fun of him or say mean things to him.
So, he was used to being lonely.
And used to walking on eggshells.
Remembering how Kim Hyeyeon used to pat his head, saying he’d grown up well despite his lively personality—and now, here he was, inside his only friend’s novel.
As he walked downstairs, he heard the deep voice of a middle-aged man.
He swallowed.
The voice was heavy and powerful, confirming his suspicion that this person would be the exact mirror image of the original Choi Jingi.
Just like the chaebols in morning dramas.
“For dinner tonight, let’s have… altang (spicy fish roe stew). That’s what Jingi likes best, right?”
“Oh, of course. We’ve often made it for him even when you weren’t here.”
“Good, let’s do that.”
However, their conversation was different from his expectations.
The man, who must be his “Father,” chuckled softly and treated the staff member kindly.
Jingi peeked through the gap, stealing a glance toward the living room.
The woman, who appeared to be his mother, was reading the newspaper while drinking coffee, and the middle-aged man was bringing fruit from the kitchen into the living room.
“Ah, you’re here?”
“Yes…”
Whether the father had spotted Jingi standing on the stairs, his eyes widened for a moment.
Jingi tried to hide his tension, forced an awkward smile, and turned his body toward the living room.
Then, the father, who had just set the fruit on the table, stiffened.
He stood frozen, his waist still half-bent from placing the fruit bowl.
Fearing he’d made a mistake, Jingi chewed his lip, unable to hide his anxiety—but then the father straightened his back.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“No, Jingi just…”
“Oh my! Jingi, you’re here?”
At the father’s words, his mother immediately tossed the newspaper aside and spun around.
The first thought that crossed his mind when he met her gaze was “awkwardness.”
But she approached him as if it were the most natural thing in the world and placed her hands on both of his shoulders.
“You’ve become even more handsome since I last saw you, my son!”
“Ah, yes. I… I’ve been well. How about you, Mother?”
“Oh my.”
In the distance, his father was looking at him with teary eyes, perhaps drinking the coffee Jingi had bought.
The father, who had been coughing nervously as if his throat were dry, slowly crept closer.
His mother, also appearing momentarily stunned, broke into a wide smile and pulled Jingi’s arm.
“Have you needed anything lately? We bought you a gift—would you like to see?”
“A… gift?”
“Yes, I hope you like it.”
He had only intended to say hello and go back upstairs, but Jingi found himself sitting on the sofa before he knew it.
The atmosphere between the two was much brighter and more cheerful than he’d imagined.
