* * *

Jingyeom nodded in agreement with Wonbeom’s words and tried to refocus on the movie, which was racing toward its conclusion.

Suddenly, he began counting on his fingers, calculating the number of movies he had watched with Wonbeom.

It wasn’t a huge number, but almost half of them had been watched together with him.

The first time they went to the cinema, Wonbeom had been there.

They had even gone to a drive-in theater together.

Ever since Wonbeom came here, they had always watched movies together.

It wasn’t a big deal, but if he watched those movies again in the future, he was sure to think of Wonbeom.

Jingyeom was briefly lost in thought before the loud sound of gunfire made him flinch. He forced himself to focus on the movie again.

The film ended with the protagonist’s perfect revenge.

But his life couldn’t be called a happy ending.

He had tried to leave his life as a killer behind, but he couldn’t.

He killed many people in his pursuit of revenge and ended up in prison.

With all the lives he had taken, he was certain to face the death penalty.

At best, he might get life without parole.

A few scenes in the movie left Jingyeom feeling uneasy.

He couldn’t shake the backstory that explained why the protagonist had become a killer.

It was a cliché: a child abused and abandoned by his parents, growing up in the streets before fully descending into the criminal underworld.

“If you’re going to abuse your own child, why have one in the first place? Just don’t have kids.”

“Yeah.”

“Taking out violence on a kid who can’t even fight back…”

Jingyeom vented his frustrations, clearly invested in the movie.

Then, a certain someone came to mind, and his face scrunched up in disgust.

‘Since I couldn’t be reached, he probably contacted Jinwoo, right?’

Before coming here, Jingyeom had briefly debated whether or not to send a message to his father.

The last time he had asked for money, his father had purposely transferred 1,818 won—a petty act that was followed by a single message.

Since then, there had been no further contact.

‘I really thought he would reach out again.’

He imagined his father angrily messaging him, but even after several days, no message came.

He wondered if his father had contacted Jinwoo instead, but after their last conversation in the hospital, where Jinwoo had seemed even more resolved to sever ties than he had, Jingyeom felt somewhat reassured.

Throughout the movie, every time the protagonist’s past was shown, Jingyeom’s mind kept drifting to his own father.

His actions were a form of violence, too.

And his mother, who had abandoned the family when he was young, came to mind as well.

Feeling down, Jingyeom slumped on the sofa.

They had planned to watch another movie back-to-back, but they decided to take a break.

“Most parents aren’t like that… but movies like this make me feel bad. Are you okay?”

“It’s just a movie.”

“…Yeah, I guess.”

Jingyeom mumbled quietly and buried his face in a cushion.

Wonbeom, who already knew the family history of Jingyeom and Jinwoo through a background check, understood why Jingyeom was talking about parents.

But since Jingyeom had amnesia and had forgotten most of his personal relationships, it was unlikely he fully remembered his own family’s situation.

Still, he probably knew some things from Jinwoo, and Wonbeom had received a report from Cheongo that Jingyeom’s father, Baek Myeongjun, had tried to contact him.

It was easy to guess why Jingyeom was now reflecting on the concept of parents.

Watching Jingyeom squirm, trying to find a comfortable position, Wonbeom asked in a low voice.

“Do you think you’d be a better parent than that?”

At the sudden question, Jingyeom let out a soft puff of breath.

“…I don’t know if I’ll ever have a child, but I think I’d be a pretty good parent.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Though Jingyeom might not be the best parent, Wonbeom didn’t think he’d be the worst either.

But knowing what Jingyeom was like before losing his memory, Wonbeom couldn’t easily believe his words.

Unaware of Wonbeom’s thoughts, Jingyeom lifted his head slightly, flashing a bright smile toward the deep, dark eyes staring back at him.

“I think I’m a good person.”

There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice—just pure confidence.

It’s rare for someone to say they believe they are a good person so assuredly.

Wonbeom smirked, his lips curling at Jingyeom’s bold answer.

Jingyeom frowned at the obvious mockery but before he could say anything, Wonbeom asked another question, making Jingyeom roll his eyes.

“Even parents in movies could’ve been good people before their kids were born, right?”

“…Maybe. But they were abusive. Because of that, the main character ended up with nightmare-like memories they had to carry for life. Saying the parents were good before the main character was born is too cruel, isn’t it? Their nature was always like that, just hidden. Their true colors, you know?”

Wonbeom, listening to Jingyeom’s serious reply, asked one more question.

“What if it was the situation that led them to act that way?”

“No matter the situation, you shouldn’t do that to your own child. You don’t have to sacrifice everything, but if you bring a child into the world, you should take responsibility. If that’s too hard, you shouldn’t have had the child in the first place.”

“…So, do you regret being born?”

Jingyeom shot him a sharp look, as if asking what nonsense he was spouting.

Never—not once—had he regretted being born.

He might be frustrated about losing his memory or curious about why he had been possessed, but he had never harbored resentment toward life itself.

In fact, he wanted to live this life even longer.

“Absolutely not! I’m so happy right now. There’s so much I want to do, and so much I have to do. I’m grateful to whoever gave birth to me.”

Jingyeom buried his face deeper into the cushion, muttering softly as if talking to himself.

“Though I don’t know who they are….”

Wonbeom, hearing the muffled words, asked again, but Jingyeom quickly waved it off, saying it was nothing.

“What about your parents? I know your grandfather is the chairman.”

“They’re dead.”

Wonbeom said “dead,” not “passed away,” and his face showed no trace of sadness.

It was just a natural continuation of the conversation, but Jingyeom hadn’t expected that response, and he inhaled sharply.

He held his breath for a moment, then slowly exhaled.

“You don’t have to be careful around me. They weren’t deserving of the title ‘parents’ anyway.”

Wonbeom’s father had been abusive, and his stepmother had been a bystander.

Neither of them were worthy of being called parents. It wasn’t all that uncommon.

After all, it wasn’t unheard of for a father to lose his mind after his wife died and start abusing his children.

In Wonbeom’s case, it was compounded by a stepmother who only cared about his father’s money.

Even thinking back now, their relationship had always been precarious, barely hanging on.

The only regret was that his father had died before Wonbeom could take his revenge.

Watching Wonbeom speak so nonchalantly, Jingyeom tilted his head slightly.

“Now that I think about it, I’ve never read anything about Wonbeom’s past.”

Looking at Wonbeom’s expression, it was clear his past wasn’t anything good.

Especially since he had directly said his parents didn’t deserve the title—it felt like there was something more hidden beneath the surface.

Unable to suppress his curiosity, Jingyeom finally asked.

“What were they like?”

“My birth mother… I think she was kind. But she died early, so I don’t remember her clearly.”

“…And your father?”

“He was one of a kind.”

At Wonbeom’s self-deprecating laugh, Jingyeom suddenly thought of the scars on his body.

They seemed to be quite old, as if they had been there for a long time.

It was absurd to think, but the question filled his mind, and before he knew it, he blurted it out.

“Those scars on your body… No, I’m sorry. That was too much. I guess I got carried away because of the movie we just watched.”

Jingyeom hurried to retract his words, but what Wonbeom said next made him sit up straight in shock.

“Looks like watching a lot of movies has sharpened your instincts.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Yeah. My father hit me, and my stepmother did nothing.”

Jingyeom had imagined that Wonbeom might have had a rough past, but the revelation that he had been abused as a child was a huge shock.

Hearing something he had never even considered, Jingyeom was at a loss for words, simply opening and closing his mouth like a fish, unable to figure out what to say.

Eventually, his gaze dropped to the floor.

It felt as though the dark eyes staring at him held hidden scars.

He hadn’t noticed before, but after hearing this story, Wonbeom seemed like a different person.

“I didn’t tell you this to get that kind of look.”

“….”

“You were curious, so I just told you.”

Wonbeom was aware that his behavior was strange, but he couldn’t stop himself.

This was the second time he had ever talked about his past to someone else. The first had been Sun Soohyuk—though that was almost forced.

No one else knew.

Well, except for one other person.

Daejeong’s chairman, who had sent the abused Wonbeom abroad—his grandfather.

If it hadn’t been for him, Wonbeom would have lived a completely different life.

“They’ve both been dead for a while now.”

“….”

“Just like in the movie we watched earlier, it was murder disguised as an accident.”

Jingyeom hadn’t expected anything more shocking than the abuse, but here it was.

In the movie, they had killed their target first and then set the car on fire to erase all the evidence.

Which meant Wonbeom’s father had met a similar fate.

Stunned by such a casual statement, Jingyeom couldn’t help but ask again, as if it was too absurd to believe.

“…What?”

“It made sense. He lived so recklessly, he had plenty of enemies.”

Jingyeom stared at Wonbeom, unable to hide the tremble in his eyes, his heart racing as he quickly checked his smartwatch.

His pulse had risen slightly, but not to a dangerous level.

It seemed the shock had simply heightened his senses.

Wonbeom, who had been sitting, stood up and kneeled in front of Jingyeom, gently taking his left hand, the one wearing the watch.

“Should I stop?”

“…No. Tell me more.”

Though the story was shocking, Jingyeom wanted to hear it all.

Wonbeom was telling it himself, and knowing that he didn’t usually open up about his past, Jingyeom wanted to understand what was going on in his mind right now.

Wonbeom rubbed his thumb over Jingyeom’s thin wrist.

He wasn’t pressing hard, but the pale skin reddened quickly.

“It’s not a fun story. No twists like in the movies.”

“I still want to hear it.”

Jingyeom’s light brown eyes stared directly at Wonbeom.

The uncertainty that had been clouding his gaze moments ago was now completely gone.

* * *