* * *

Wonbeom began to share a story he had never revealed to anyone before, his voice carrying the weight of hidden emotions.

“You asked me before if my scars hurt, right? I think they used to… Yeah, back then, they hurt.”

Jingyeom’s gaze fell on the still-visible scars on Wonbeom’s hand.

He thought of the countless other scars he’d seen over the past few days while helping clean Wonbeom’s body.

The fact that these marks were caused by none other than his father made Jingyeom’s heart twist painfully.

Wonbeom had grown up under his father’s abuse, surrendering to a life of despair from an early age.

His grandfather eventually discovered the truth, and only when Wonbeom entered middle school was he able to escape that house.

Though his father did not want to let him go, even he was powerless before the firm stance of his own father, Wonbeom’s grandfather.

After all, his father needed to remain in his grandfather’s good graces if he wanted to inherit the company, Daejung Group.

From that point on, Wonbeom’s life changed dramatically.

He was no longer oppressed, and if he put in even a little effort, he could have anything he desired.

“Grandfather wasn’t like my father. He tried to raise me without lacking anything. And he did, really.”

Having experienced this new life, Wonbeom realized the injustice of everything he had endured.

He vowed to take everything his father had, seeking revenge and determined to inflict even greater pain than he had suffered.

“I wanted revenge, but… he died so easily.”

After graduating from a university abroad and returning to Korea to further grow Daejung Group, Wonbeom received news of his father’s death. It left him feeling empty and lost.

“When I lost my goal, I didn’t know what to do anymore.”

As Wonbeom spoke, he kept fidgeting with Jingyeom’s hand. He had never intended to speak of this past again.

Yet, sitting in front of Jingyeom, the words flowed easily.

Throughout the story, Jingyeom remained silent, not even uttering a word of acknowledgment.

He simply listened intently to Wonbeom’s voice.

“So, I’ve decided to fulfill what my father desperately wanted. It’s ironic, but if I complete the task he couldn’t, I doubt he’ll be able to rest peacefully, even in hell.”

Wonbeom’s tone carried no trace of emotion, as if he were recounting someone else’s story.

Even though it was all in the past, something he likely hadn’t fully let go of, there was no regret in his voice.

Jingyeom glanced at the man before him.

The figure sitting in front of him seemed different from the towering presence that Wonbeom had once appeared to be.

Though Wonbeom’s words were calm, to Jingyeom, it looked like he was hiding sadness.

It wasn’t grief for the father who had died.

It was sorrow for the child he once was, for the hatred he had carried for so long, only to see it dissipate into nothingness.

Jingyeom, who had been listening quietly, slowly extended his arm.

Though his left hand was still being held by Wonbeom, his right arm was free.

He paused midair before carefully speaking.

“Can I… hug you?”

“…Why?”

“Because… I just want to.”

At that moment, Jingyeom didn’t care whether Wonbeom harbored feelings for him or not.

The man before him was simply someone who had been deeply hurt.

If words could have comforted Wonbeom, Jingyeom would have done so, but knowing he couldn’t, he tried to comfort him in his own way.

Instead of responding with words, Wonbeom pulled Jingyeom’s arm closer, wrapping it around his waist and pressing his face into Jingyeom’s chest.

Wonbeom knelt on one knee while Jingyeom sat awkwardly on the sofa with his arms half-raised.

Sensing the awkward posture, Wonbeom adjusted his position.

Despite never having knelt before anyone else, it felt strangely natural with Jingyeom.

He didn’t even register how odd his posture might have seemed.

With Jingyeom’s arms wrapped around him, Wonbeom felt utterly still.

Jingyeom blinked quickly before closing his eyes tightly, then fully embraced him, pulling his head close.

Jingyeom gently rested his head against Wonbeom’s, causing him to flinch for a moment before relaxing into the embrace.

‘Small… but warm.’

Jingyeom’s body fit perfectly into his arms, his warmth radiating more than usual.

Normally, it wasn’t this noticeable, but today, for some reason, Jingyeom felt especially warm.

As Jingyeom blinked slowly, he cautiously asked, “Did they catch the person responsible for your parents’ accident?”

“Yeah. I even found out who hired them.”

“…Did you handle it legally?”

“No. I dealt with it in another way. But I never got my turn. Turns out, blood ties are stronger than you’d think.”

Jingyeom furrowed his brow, not immediately understanding what Wonbeom meant by “blood ties.” Wonbeom dropped a subtle hint.

“There’s only one blood relative who could move faster than me.”

“…Ah.”

It finally clicked for Jingyeom that he was referring to the chairman.

He slowly nodded, and that movement transmitted to Wonbeom as well.

At that moment, Wonbeom sensed something off.

Jingyeom had immediately assumed the stabbing incident was a corporate feud when he found out about it.

At the time, Wonbeom thought it was just an odd choice of words.

Jingyeom tended to think outside the box, so he didn’t give it much thought.

Even now, when Jingyeom heard about the abuse and the disguised murder, he seemed shocked.

Yet when Wonbeom mentioned not handling things legally, Jingyeom showed no surprise.

It could be that Jingyeom just didn’t want to pry further, but to Wonbeom, it seemed as if he was accepting it without question.

‘Does he know something?’

If he had searched for Daejung Group online, he could have found out about the company’s background.

Although Wonbeom had been scrubbing mentions of the company online, it was impossible to erase everything.

Before Jingyeom lost his memory, he knew that Daejung had grown from a loan shark business.

But in his current state, he shouldn’t have that information.

Even if he had looked it up online, his calm acceptance of things struck Wonbeom as strange.

Under normal circumstances, Wonbeom would have pressed Jingyeom to clear up his suspicions.

But now, all he wanted was to hold him close.

It felt strange to him, but he simply wanted to embrace him.

It was the first time Wonbeom had held someone in such a nonsexual, pure way, and he didn’t feel like letting go.

“Let’s go to bed now. You should rest,” Jingyeom said.

Wonbeom wanted to keep holding him, but Jingyeom gently pushed him away, insisting that they stop.

He reluctantly let him go.

As Jingyeom stood, he casually draped Wonbeom’s right arm over his own shoulder.

“You’re going straight to bed, right?”

“If you say so, I guess I have to.”

“…Let’s go, then.”

Though there was a huge difference in their height and build, making the support unnecessary, Jingyeom put in his best effort.

From the first day, Jingyeom had tried hard to help Wonbeom in any way he could, and supporting him like this was just one of the ways.

To Jingyeom, Wonbeom was still a patient in need of care.

Even though Wonbeom could walk on his own, he leaned slightly into Jingyeom to make him feel his weight.

This made Jingyeom feel like he was being useful.

Jingyeom, who had seated Wonbeom on the bed, was about to leave, saying he’d grab a book for him to read.

“Why? Do you need something?”

“…No.”

“Then you should let go so I can leave.”

Jingyeom shook the arm that had somehow been grabbed by Wonbeom.

His heart clenched as his gaze fell on the scar on Wonbeom’s hand, and he bit his lip.

He had thought it must have hurt when he saw the wound before, but knowing how it happened made it even more unsettling.

Though he knew Wonbeom wouldn’t want him to show it, he couldn’t help but let his lips pout.

“Fathers are the problem.”

While people like Baek Jingyeom and Wonbeom’s father were rare, Jingyeom couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of connection.

Wonbeom, noticing Jingyeom’s fixed gaze on his hand, hesitated and turned his head, whispering in a barely audible voice.

“…I just don’t want to be alone.”

Shocked by what he had just said, Wonbeom quickly bowed his head and covered his eyes with one hand.

He had unintentionally spilled a secret he had kept locked inside.

But oddly enough, this side of Wonbeom resonated with Jingyeom.

“Wonbeom-hyung said something like that…?”

Jingyeom had thought Wonbeom lacked any ability to empathize with others, but the closer he got, the more he realized that wasn’t the case.

Wonbeom simply expressed himself differently.

Of course, it was true that his emotions didn’t fluctuate as much as a typical person’s.

Before, Jingyeom had just assumed he was born that way.

But after learning about how his life had been chained to his father from a young age, it became painfully clear how much that had affected him.

“Alright, I’ll just grab the games and books and be back. Stay here with me today, okay?”

“…”

“I’ll be quick.”

Jingyeom waited, knowing he couldn’t leave until Wonbeom let go.

One by one, the thick fingers began to release their grip.

“Is there any book you want to read?”

“Anything’s fine. Oh, just not a comic book.”

“I was actually about to bring one since you said ‘anything.’ What a shame.”

Jingyeom wrinkled his nose in a smile and, true to his word, returned quickly.

He grabbed a bag full of game cartridges and chargers, along with four books that looked headache-inducing just from their titles, and headed back to the room.

He placed the books on the bedside table, then casually climbed onto the bed and sat next to Wonbeom.

“When you’re done with these, I’ll bring more.”

“Did you purposely choose the thick ones? These’ll take me days to finish.”

“Come on, you think I did that just because I didn’t want to go back and forth? I picked them because I liked the titles.”

Stressing that it wasn’t out of laziness, Jingyeom turned on the game console.

He lowered the volume to avoid disturbing Wonbeom as he read.

Wonbeom picked up the thinnest book.

He settled in and opened it, but none of the words made sense.

His attention kept drifting to Jingyeom, who was playing his game beside him.

It wasn’t that he was annoyed by the distraction; he just couldn’t stop thinking about Jingyeom.

Staring down at the book, Wonbeom unknowingly let a small smile creep onto his lips.

He had no idea what he was reading, but just having Jingyeom next to him made this moment feel peaceful.

Even though this wasn’t a time for relaxation, he didn’t want to disturb the mood, so he kept his eyes on the book.

---

That evening, as expected, Jingyeom came back with a damp cloth and wiped down Wonbeom’s body.

Jingyeom figured, since he hadn’t been able to shower for over a month, Wonbeom should also stick to sponge baths for the time being.

In reality, a waterproof bandage would allow for a light shower, but neither Wonbeom nor the doctor mentioned that to Jingyeom.

Seeing Wonbeom’s bare body again, Jingyeom frowned, his lips pressing into a pout.

As the bruises slowly faded, the scars became even more visible.

“If it hurts, you have to tell me!”

“I told you, it doesn’t hurt.”

“…Still.”

Jingyeom was wiping down Wonbeom’s back when, suddenly, the door swung open without a knock.

Startled, Wonbeom quickly reached out to shield Jingyeom and grabbed for the knife he kept by the bedside table, but stopped when he saw a familiar face.

The unannounced visitor was Soohyuk.

“Jingyeom! Hyung’s here…?”

Soohyuk’s loud greeting trailed off as his eyes took in the scene: a shirtless Wonbeom and Jingyeom behind him.

His expression hardened in an instant.

* * *