* * *

Meanwhile, Yeongdeok, completely uninterested in Wonjin’s concerns, just ignored his words.

“Mr. Yeongdeok, please assist the elderly at the white table over there. Elders, if you need help with your folding, ask Mr. Yeongdeok.”

The caregiver handed Yeongdeok an origami instruction book.

Flipping through the pages, a fundamental question popped into his mind.

“What’s the point of folding paper like this?”

The finished products shown in the book weren’t particularly aesthetically pleasing, so it didn’t seem like they were for decoration.

Then why bother folding paper at all?

Yeongdeok was genuinely curious, but the caregiver blinked at him in confusion, while Wonjin looked visibly flustered.

“Ah, ha ha… Origami helps with fine motor skills and can even prevent dementia.”

“Is that so?”

At her slightly puzzled explanation, Yeongdeok finally understood and nodded, though inwardly, he doubted such miraculous effects could come from folding paper.

“The first thing we’ll fold is a crane. They say that if you fold a thousand cranes, your wish will come true. Let’s all fold one carefully while thinking of a wish.”

The caregiver at the front of the room held up a green sheet of paper and began demonstrating the folding process step by step.

The elderly people at the table slowly started to follow along.

Then, one of the elderly men turned to Yeongdeok, holding up a half-folded piece of paper.

“I don’t know how to fold this.”

She just explained it 10 seconds ago—how can he not know already?

While this thought crossed his mind, Yeongdeok could feel Wonjin’s anxious gaze from the side.

His hands, holding the colored paper, were trembling slightly.

The look of pure unease on Wonjin’s face was so obvious that it was impossible for Yeongdeok to ignore.

So, in the end, he took the paper from the elderly man and explained the steps again, slowly and carefully.

Even though this was his first time folding paper, the caregiver’s instructions had been clear, so it wasn’t too difficult.

“First, fold it like this. Then, do this.”

“Teach me, too.”

“Me too.”

One by one, the elderly began to hand their papers to Yeongdeok.

This was no longer teaching—it was folding for them.

A frown flickered across his face, but in order to avoid giving Wonjin any sense of satisfaction, he patiently taught them.

He must have folded paper for them at least ten times.

Then, without a word, another elderly man handed him a crisp sheet of paper.

‘What does he want me to do with this?’

Yeongdeok wondered as he glanced at the man’s face.

He froze for a moment.

The gaunt man, with sharp eyes and a stern expression, bore an uncanny resemblance to his grandfather, Cha Heeseok.

After blinking a few times, Yeongdeok silently accepted the paper and began demonstrating the folds again, step by step.

“First, fold it in half to make a rectangle…”

Without a single misplaced fold, he created a perfectly crisp paper crane and handed it to the elderly man who looked like Heeseok.

Next came frogs, fish, and other animals, as the caregiver gave instructions.

Yeongdeok mimicked her explanations, moving his hands quickly, folding each colored sheet.

“Is this right?”

One elderly man held up his folded paper, which looked more like a lumpy toad than a frog.

Expecting Yeongdeok to snap, Wonjin’s face showed pure desperation as he looked at him as if pleading, “Please don’t…”

Yeongdeok hadn’t said or done anything yet, but Wonjin’s assumptions were already irritating him.

“Let me explain it one more time.”

“So, what you do is…”

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Yeongdeok repeated the same instructions.

After tirelessly folding paper, the seemingly endless origami session finally came to an end.

“You did great work, Mr. Wonjin, Mr. Yeongdeok.”

“Is it over?”

Feeling oddly drained even though he hadn’t done much, Yeongdeok asked the caregiver, but she shook her head.

“Not yet.”

She smiled brightly, saying there was still plenty left to do. In contrast, Yeongdeok’s expression hardened.

ꔚ

Some time later, Yeongdeok found himself holding the handles of a wheelchair.

After finishing the origami, the next task was to assist the elderly on a walk, and the caregiver had asked him to help.

The elderly man he was assigned to was the one who resembled Cha Heeseok.

Looking around, Yeongdeok saw that other volunteers were chatting with the elderly as they pushed their wheelchairs.

But having nothing particular to say to a stranger, he silently pushed the wheelchair forward.

“You remind me of my youngest son, who passed away before me.”

The elderly man suddenly spoke, turning to look at him.

“…Is that so.”

Yeongdeok offered a halfhearted reply, and the man continued.

“I never once acknowledged him. Now, looking back, I regret it.”

“…….”

“I should have told him he did well.”

Confiding in Yeongdeok was pointless.

After all, Yeongdeok wasn’t his son.

Almost as if he had read Yeongdeok’s mind, the old man spoke.

“Sorry about that. I rambled a bit. If I mistake you for my son later, I hope you’ll understand.”

The old man said this with a small smile.

Yeongdeok briefly imagined if Cha Heeseok smiled, it might look something like that.

But he quickly dismissed the thought as meaningless.

“What’s your grandfather like? Are you close with him?”

“No.”

Yeongdeok answered sharply, his tone so cold it might have seemed harsh.

That man likely wouldn’t even show up at his funeral if he died.

He probably wouldn’t regret anything like this old man.

“Treat your grandfather well.”

Since Yeongdeok had no intention of doing that, not even the slightest, he just stayed silent.

The short walk ended as he passively listened to the old man’s one-sided conversation.

ꔚ

“How was today?”

On their way out of the care center, after finishing their volunteer work, Wonjin cautiously asked, keeping an eye on Yeongdeok’s reaction.

“Well, I can say one thing for sure.”

“What’s that…?”

“I really can’t stand you.”

“Haha…”

While Wonjin let out an awkward laugh, Yeongdeok walked past him, moving ahead.

Wonjin stared blankly at Yeongdeok’s retreating back, and then shouted after him.

“You know you have to come back tomorrow, right? See you tomorrow!”

Hearing that overly innocent voice made a vein pulse in Yeongdeok’s temple.

But he restrained himself, thinking, ‘It’s not like I’m some obsessive guy who can’t let things go.’

ꔚ

The next day’s volunteer work followed the same pattern as the first, except instead of folding paper, they were drawing pictures.

Wonjin observed as Yeongdeok held an old man’s hand, guiding the colored pencil across the page.

Despite being cold toward him, Yeongdeok surprisingly didn’t lose his temper or get irritated with the elderly.

It struck Wonjin as odd.

While watching Yeongdeok, Wonjin accidentally painted a person’s skin zombie-blue.

When the strange artwork was finished, he had to endure the sharp glares from the old man who owned the painting until coloring time was over.

After that, there was a performance for the residents, and during that time, Yeongdeok, Wonjin, and a few other volunteers were assigned to clean the bathroom.

As Yeongdeok scrubbed the tiles in silence, Wonjin couldn’t help but notice him, thinking that it must be close to the point where Yeongdeok’s patience would wear thin.

“Ha Wonjin.”

“Yes, yes!”

Wonjin, who was cleaning the sink, tensed up like a nervous recruit, thinking the moment had finally come.

“Give me the bleach.”

“Oh, right…”

Despite his tension, all he received from Yeongdeok was a simple request.

Wonjin handed over the bleach but continued to stare at him.

“What are you staring at? Get back to cleaning.”

“Yes…”

Yeongdeok worked hard, whether it was cleaning or anything else, putting more effort into it than others who were just doing the bare minimum.

Motivated by him, Wonjin gripped his cloth more firmly, determined to clean well.

By the time they had made the care center’s bathroom shine, their volunteer shift was over.

* * *