* * *
He didn’t even know if it was really the handkerchief that brought him here.
It was late, and at first, he’d planned to just check in and leave.
But the moment he caught that familiar scent of blood, his body reacted before he could think.
The upper part of Seo Inho’s shirt was soaked in blood, not even hidden under his jacket.
But still—who would’ve thought Seo Inho would actually invite him inside?
Sure, he’d lost his memory, but even so—he let someone who once tried to strangle him right into his home.
Just gave him some mango, patched him up, and that was enough to crack open the door to his heart.
Same with Woo Jaehyun.
Were they always this trusting?
It was annoying—more than it should’ve been.
Seeing how he looked at his dad, or the way he treated Woo Jaehyun, there was this hunger for affection he just couldn’t hide.
“Not that I’m one to talk…”
But he wasn’t much different.
The moment he stepped inside, it was like some old habit kicked in—he started wanting things again.
Things he usually didn’t even care about, but suddenly mattered just because they were connected to Seo Inho.
Like that damn handkerchief.
Maybe that’s why he’d started acting so strangely lately.
Even he couldn’t explain it.
Especially that photo—him, smiling with Seo Inho—it didn’t even look like him.
He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled like that.
And yet, the weird part was, it didn’t feel bad at all.
That’s how he knew—he was really losing it.
After everything, he still wanted to be close to him.
[Video: Entering the same apartment (enhanced quality / 20s slow-mo / analyzed frame-by-frame)]
Video quality’s trash ’cause it was taken from far away in the dark lol. Tried to clean it up, but if you don’t like it, just leave\~
Comments (743)
↳ Quality’s crap. What is this, shot in 2005? lol
↳ Is that really Cha Rui? Doesn’t look like him.
↳ Look at that build. Who else has a body like God-Rui?
↳ Since when did Cha Rui get close with Trash-rank?
↳ They’re not close, dumbass. Use your eyes. Dude’s hair is jet black—you think he’s God-Rui?
↳ He’s probably just wearing a black cap.
↳ That apartment’s crazy expensive. Jealous as hell.
↳ Hunter Seo Inho, cheering you on! Thanks again for helping last time!
↳ ?
↳ Maybe they got close during those ten days in the EX Dungeon.
↳ Ugh I hate this. Why is my Rui oppa hanging out with that trashㅠ
↳ Did you even see the video where he gets choked? They’re definitely not friends. Don’t worry.
↳ Pretty sure it is Cha Rui. Someone said they saw him near Cheongdam Station.
“People sure don’t waste time.”
I was gently stirring the tteokbokki to keep it from sticking to the bottom when I clicked my tongue in annoyance.
While browsing ‘Huntube,’ I saw some familiar initials and clicked, only to find—as expected—more than half of the comments were insults.
Still, if it used to be about 80% hate, now it was down to around 70%.
It had decreased a bit ever since I started working at my father’s shop.
You’d think I’d just stop looking, but it had this ant-lion pit sort of allure.
The more I tried not to, the more I wanted to check.
Skimming through the content, it seemed people were worried I might get close to Cha Rui.
Honestly, I felt like leaving a comment saying there’s no way in hell that would happen.
We didn’t even run into each other anymore, but people were still wasting their energy over it.
“Boss\~! Two more servings of tteokbokki, please!”
“Coming right up.”
I quickly plated the tteokbokki at the sound of a voice from inside.
Around this time of day, customers would usually start to dwindle, so I gave a slightly more generous portion than usual.
I’d been feeling on edge lately because of some trolls bombing us with bad ratings, so I hoped maybe they’d leave a good review or something.
But when I walked into the store with the tteokbokki, I saw my father surrounded by a group of five or six kids.
Turns out, he was showing off a ring he received as a gift, holding up his finger proudly.
“That’s the one Hunter Seo Inho gave you? From the S-rank dungeon?”
“Of course!”
“Whoa, amazing!”
The kids—who looked like they were in the upper grades of elementary school—were clearly impressed, eyes sparkling as they clung to my dad even more.
My father just laughed good-naturedly, fluttering like a paper doll, but not looking the least bit annoyed.
“Can we take a look too?”
“Me too!”
The kids didn’t dare snatch it away, but they swarmed around his hand in a playful tug-of-war.
The once-glimmering magic stone embedded in the ring started to lose its shine as their fingerprints smeared it.
Should I stop this or let it be?
Feeling secretly proud, I set the tteokbokki down on the table.
Just then, the girl who had placed the extra order suddenly stood up and came rushing over.
She was that middle schooler who said she’d started a channel on ‘Huntube’ last time.
“Oppa! Can I take a picture with you?”
That damn word—oppa…
I’d gotten used to taking photos, but no matter how often I heard that term, I just couldn’t get used to it.
If someone with ill intentions caught this moment on camera and uploaded it to Huntube, the hate comments would probably shoot from 70% to 90% instantly.
It’d only take half a day for my reputation to tank.
I didn’t even need to read the comments to know what they’d say.
“Could you just call me Uncle instead?”
At that, the girl visibly deflated.
Her lips pouted like she was on the verge of tears.
Seriously, was that really something to be that disappointed about?
I looked down at her in disbelief before letting out a deep sigh and motioned her over.
Honestly, I didn’t know what went on in the heads of teenagers these days.
“But if weird comments pop up, you’d better delete them.”
“Yes!”
“And leave a good review for the shop too.”
“Yes!”
…At least she answers well.
Her mood instantly bounced back as if the whole thing had been an act, and she started snapping away with her camera full of filters.
The sharp-featured guy in the screen kept turning into a cat, then a rabbit—it was chaos.
Eventually, it even showed me with long hair and makeup.
Maybe because I’m on the bigger side, it looked seriously creepy.
Who even wants to do this kind of stuff?
As I stared at that other version of me with increasing discomfort, a bell rang at the entrance like a savior.
“Welcome!”
I seized the chance to get up, and the student, clearly displeased, gave the incoming customer a side-eye before returning to her seat.
But the man who entered looked… unusual.
He was about as tall as me, but despite his large frame, he was so thin he looked like nothing but bones.
His complexion was pale and delicate, with dark circles sunken under his eyes.
He looked almost lifeless—like a walking corpse.
“One serving of tteokbokki, please.”
He looked, at most, in his early thirties, but spoke in a tone that didn’t fit his age.
Then he sat in a far corner, away from everyone.
Weird guy…
Still, a customer’s a customer.
I brought over a plate of tteokbokki.
The man picked up a fork with his dry, winter-branch-like hand and took a bite.
His deeply sunken eyes curved gently.
“Spicy and tasty. Very nice.”
His way of speaking still felt strange.
It sounded kind of like a Seoul accent—but not quite.
I wondered if he wasn’t Korean, but his pronunciation was flawless.
I pretended to clean tables while sneaking glances when he suddenly pointed his fork at me.
“You’re Seo Inho?”
“Yes… I am.”
His tone rubbed me the wrong way, so I answered a bit curtly.
But he casually glanced around the store and leaned back against his chair, seemingly unbothered.
There was something oddly captivating about his relaxed posture.
“You run the place with your father?”
“I’m just helping out.”
Why was this guy asking questions instead of eating his food?
His strange gaze was making me increasingly uncomfortable, and I could feel my mouth tightening.
“Oh, such a devoted son.”
He seemed to pick up on it and went back to nibbling at the tteokbokki like he meant no harm.
Then he suddenly called out to my father, who happened to be passing by.
“You must be proud. Your son turned out well.”
My father’s face lit up instantly, just like it always did when someone praised me.
For him, bragging about his son was like a habit he couldn’t quit.
“Of course! He even bought me a gift for my birthday.”
He proudly raised his hand once again to show off the ring—who knows how many times now—and the man’s eyes widened in exaggerated amazement, like he was encouraging him.
“A gift? Let me take a closer look.”
Without a hint of suspicion, my father stretched out his arm.
Just wanting to show off the ring, he held his hand right in front of the man’s face.
Wait…
Something felt wrong, and I rushed over.
But before I could say anything, it all happened in a flash.
The man grabbed my father’s wrist, and a tiny, glinting needle appeared between his fingers.
It hovered just above the skin—barely not touching.
“Move, and you’re dead.”
Still smiling, the man whispered softly, his expression unchanged.
I instinctively moved my hand, and his sunken eyes curved again, this time in eerie amusement.
“Unless you want blood gushing out of every hole in your body, stay still.”
From a distance, it could’ve looked like a friendly conversation.
No one else in the store seemed to suspect a thing.
Was he from the North?
His awkward speech had, at some point, shifted unmistakably into a North Korean dialect.
It was clear now—he hadn’t even tried to hide it anymore.
He’d been waiting for this moment from the start.
* * *
