* * *

Hearing Yeongdeok’s words, Seonwoo let out a hollow laugh, but it quickly turned into a scowl.

It was just like that time long ago when he’d heard the same insult, pushing him to the edge once again.

“I’m sorry for being pathetic, then. You’ve always been like this—never caring how much your words hurt others.”

“…”

“I’ve always hated that about you, Cha Dowon.”

Seonwoo’s grip on Yeongdeok’s collar tightened.

His once composed face twisted into something ugly, as though murderous rage was welling up inside him.

“I thought maybe you’d changed a bit over time. Guess I was wrong.”

“…”

“You…”

Seonwoo wanted to hurl the same hurt back at Yeongdeok, to tell him he’d live a lonely life and die alone, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

The words caught in his throat, leaving his lips pressed tightly together.

Perhaps it was the intensity of his emotions, but his head spun with fury, and yet, the sadness seemed stronger.

Tears streamed down Seonwoo’s cheeks.

“Forget it. Just get lost. I’m sure you’re already thinking you’re wasting your time with me, even right now. You think I don’t know?”

Seonwoo sneered, calling him an unempathetic lunatic, and slowly let go of Yeongdeok’s collar.

“I don’t know what you were thinking, hanging around with me all this time. But none of that matters now.”

I hope I never have to see your face again.

With that, Seonwoo brushed past him and walked away.

At that moment, as Yeongdeok watched his retreating figure, a long-forgotten memory resurfaced in perfect clarity.

ꔚ

That day, Dowon had accompanied his father to Baek Cheongang’s house for a visit.

As soon as they entered the living room, he noticed the wine and snacks laid out on the table.

Seonwoo’s mother, Baek Seongyeong, smiled at Dowon and said, “The adults have their own matters to discuss. You kids can hang out together. Seonwoo’s in his room.”

Dowon glanced at his father as if asking for permission.

“Go ahead.”

With Hyunguk’s approval, Dowon nodded and made his way upstairs.

He didn’t particularly like Seonwoo. He was annoying, shallow, and frivolous.

But what bothered him most was how calculated all of Seonwoo’s actions were.

It was obvious that he was trying to get close to Dowon in hopes of making a good impression on Baek Cheongang.

Why else would someone so lacking cling to him so shamelessly?

As Dowon walked down the second-floor hallway, he suddenly heard the harsh sound of piano keys being pounded.

The discordant noise seeping through the door grated on his ears.

Turning the doorknob, Dowon entered the room and saw Seonwoo, his head buried in the piano keys, sobbing.

Torn-up sheet music was scattered across the floor in a mess.

Dowon went over to the window and sat down, opening the French book he had brought with him.

In the stillness that followed, the only sounds were Seonwoo’s sobs and the rustling of pages as Dowon turned them.

As Seonwoo’s tearful cries gradually quieted, he eventually broke the silence.

“…Why aren’t you asking anything?”

Dowon briefly glanced at him before lowering his head again and turning another page.

“Because it’s a waste of time. You’ve already wasted three seconds with that question.”

“…Of course, that’s what you’d say.”

Seonwoo gave a bitter laugh, lifting his face from the piano, and began rambling about himself.

“I want to keep playing the piano, but my family is dead set against it.”

“…”

“They keep telling me I’m the eldest son, so I have to take over the family business. As if we’re living in the Joseon era or something.”

Dowon didn’t want to listen to Seonwoo’s complaints, but it was impossible not to hear the words forcefully piercing his eardrums.

“I think I’m pretty good at playing the piano… Right? Or am I not…? I don’t know. Everyone’s against it, so I’m getting confused.”

“…”

“What would you do if you were me?”

Dowon couldn’t understand why Seonwoo was asking for his opinion.

The guy didn’t even seem confident in himself, so what was the point of asking someone else?

Would he stop if Dowon told him to?

Dowon only felt annoyed at having wasted his time yet again.

“Pathetic.”

The disgust was clear on Dowon’s cold face, and he soon spoke sharply, his tone indifferent.

“Can’t you keep your mouth shut for even a moment? You always ramble about useless things.”

Dowon thought Seonwoo would quiet down soon enough, as he always did.

But this time was different.

Seonwoo, who had been hanging his head low, clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked and muttered a curse.

“You crazy bastard…”

Seonwoo’s face, which had looked so forlorn, twisted with anger.

It was the first time Dowon had seen him with such a vicious expression, but he couldn’t understand why.

He didn’t, and couldn’t, empathize with Seonwoo’s feelings.

“Even at a moment like this…”

Seonwoo gritted his teeth so hard it made a grinding noise, then turned his back and stormed out of the room.

Dowon didn’t bother stopping him.

He didn’t even remember what expression Seonwoo had on his face as he left—because it wasn’t worth remembering.

ꔚ

Even now, Yeongdeok couldn’t figure out if it was worth holding on to Baek Seonwoo.

However, he could sense that something had changed within himself.

Though Seonwoo insisted nothing had changed, Yeongdeok didn’t agree.

If nothing had changed, how could Seonwoo’s emotions feel as if they were transmitting to him?

His heart pounded wildly, beating against his chest, urging him to go after Seonwoo.

And so, Yeongdeok decided to follow what his heart demanded.

“Pathetic. Really pathetic.”

Hearing those repeated words of scorn, Seonwoo, who had been walking forward, stopped abruptly and turned around.

Veins bulged on his temple, and he clenched his fists, trembling as if he was just one push away from losing control and attacking.

“Hey, are you trying to pick a fight with me? I was just leaving, so why are you provoking me?”

His usually soft voice dropped to a low, threatening tone.

Yeongdeok simply tilted his head, smirking with an air of nonchalance.

“I’m just stating the truth. Is that what you call provoking?”

“You…”

“No matter how hard you glare, it won’t work. A loser glaring like that doesn’t feel threatening at all.”

Looking at Seonwoo’s expression, Yeongdeok thought he might actually kill someone.

But even with that savage face in front of him, Yeongdeok chuckled fearlessly, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets and looking directly at Seonwoo.

“Isn’t it pathetic? Trying to offload your decisions onto others.”

“…”

“You’re the one who decides which way to go. So why are you so swayed by what others say?”

Seonwoo, whose mind had been clouded with anger, ground his teeth, wondering if Yeongdeok really wanted to start something.

But when their eyes met, he realized something felt off. Yeongdeok’s demeanor was far too calm for someone who was mocking or picking a fight.

“Don’t entrust your life to someone else. If Baek Cheongang told you to die, would you die?”

For that matter, if the god of this world, their creator, PetitRolang, said, “That’s not your role,” would Seonwoo meekly obey? Yeongdeok certainly wouldn’t.

In Yeongdeok’s steady gaze, Seonwoo saw his own reflection.

At that moment, a sudden, sharp jolt hit Seonwoo’s mind, like a surge of electricity, and the anger clouding his thoughts began to dissipate.

“Calling someone’s father ‘that guy, Baek Cheongang’…”

Seonwoo muttered with a faint smile, as if Yeongdeok was being his usual self.

His voice, though, was tinged with less anger than before.

“Stop worrying about what others think and do what you want. Living selfishly isn’t as dramatic as you might think.”

Yeongdeok shared his own experience.

After all, he had raised hell trying to break free from the original script as Cha Dowon, but nothing catastrophic had happened so far.

“You’re here now because it’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”

“…”

“If so, be confident. There’s nothing more pathetic than tearing yourself down.”

* * *