* * *
Taeryu headed straight for the parking lot and climbed into his car.
As he floored the accelerator, the vibration pressed his back firmly against the seat.
‘Yes, but the thing is… Yoo Junhee tried to hail a taxi on a four-lane road. He nearly got hit by a car.’
Taeryu’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Lowering the window, the rushing wind tousled his black hair, but it didn’t ease the suffocating feeling in his chest.
He drove for twenty minutes, focused only on the road ahead.
The screech of tires echoed as the car swerved into a narrow alley.
He spotted a familiar figure stepping out of a taxi that had just come to a stop.
Watching Junhee stagger as he exited, Taeryu opened his car door.
“Driver, I’m sorry, but could you speed up a bit? I’m in a real hurry—really urgent.”
“I’m already going as fast as I can, so stop pressuring me. You’re making me anxious too.”
The cab driver, rather than Junhee, seemed to be the one calming down.
Junhee gripped the door handle as though he might leap out at any moment.
His sweaty palms kept slipping, and when he wiped them on his pants, the fabric grew damp.
He had bolted out of the office the moment he got Siwon’s call.
It felt like his brain had short-circuited, turning blank white.
All he could think was that he needed to get to the orphanage immediately.
Without hesitation, he dashed onto the street, only to be yanked back by someone.
The blare of a horn accompanied a massive vehicle grazing past his nose.
It took a few seconds more for him to realize he had narrowly avoided being hit.
He didn’t even think to look for his savior, focusing instead on hailing a taxi.
Now, inside the cab, he was like a madman, muttering “faster, faster.”
Reaching for his phone to call Siwon, he remembered he’d left it back at the office.
As he anxiously chewed his lip, a broken promise echoed in his mind.
‘Hyung, when are you coming back?’
‘Once I’m done with work, I’ll come see you. Be good for Mom, okay?’
‘Ten days? Or twenty?’
‘Before ten days are up, I’ll be there.’
The memory of that promise, forgotten amid excuses of being too busy, weighed heavy on his chest.
By the time the taxi reached the orphanage, Junhee’s heart felt like it might burst.
Before the car had even come to a complete stop, he frantically yanked at the door handle.
When it wouldn’t budge, he fumbled with the lock, finally managing to shove the door open and scramble out—only to have someone grab him.
“Hey, mister! You can’t just leave without paying!”
“Oh, right. I’m sorry. I’m really out of it right now…”
Junhee fumbled through his pockets but couldn’t find his wallet.
“Driver, I’m really sorry, but can I transfer the fare to your account in a little while?”
“You think this is the first time someone tried to skip out on the fare? Before I call the police, you’d better—”
A hand shot past Junhee’s field of vision and reached toward the taxi driver.
“Here.”
Junhee turned his head in confusion, only to see Taeryu standing there.
Taeryu handed a few yellow bills to the driver and then extended his hand, pulling Junhee toward him by the shoulder.
Junhee followed without resistance.
The hand gripping Junhee’s wrist was cold and clammy, just like his own trembling hands.
Beneath Taeryu’s usually neat but now disheveled hair, dark eyes stared deeply at Junhee before a hand reached toward his face.
A sharp sting pricked his lower lip.
“I told you not to pick at it.”
“…”
Taeryu frowned as he looked at the blood smeared on his thumb.
A quiet sigh escaped his lips, followed by a calm voice.
It was so steady that it felt as if it was pressing down on Junhee’s frantically beating heart.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Junhee opened his mouth, trying to say something, but at that moment—
Creak.
The sound of an iron gate being pushed open was followed by someone running toward them.
“Junhee hyung! You’re here—wait, why are you here?”
Siwon froze as he stepped outside the gate and glared sharply at Taeryu.
His gaze shifted to Taeryu’s arm draped around Junhee’s shoulders and then back to Taeryu’s face.
“Didn’t you hear me? I asked what you’re doing here!”
Siwon raised his voice, and Junhee’s shoulders flinched.
“Shut up. Just explain what’s going on.”
“What? Why would I explain anything to you—”
“Stop acting like a brat. Do I have to spell out what’s important right now?”
Taeryu’s piercing stare bore into Siwon, making him clench his fists tightly.
“…Bodam’s gone.”
“That little kid?”
“Yes. I rushed over here after Mom called me during class, so I don’t have all the details yet, but…”
Before Siwon could finish, Junhee shook off Taeryu’s grip and staggered into the orphanage gates.
As Junhee’s figure crossed the yard, Taeryu and Siwon followed close behind.
The orphanage director, who was just stepping out, nearly bumped into Junhee.
“Mom, what’s going on? Where’s Bodam? Where did he disappear to?”
The director looked half out of her mind, her gaze unfocused.
When Junhee grabbed her arm to stop her from walking past, she finally seemed to recognize him and stammered out her words.
“J-Junhee… Well, you see, today was Bodam’s daycare field trip. We put him on the bus, just like usual. He was running a bit late, so I figured it was because of the trip, and I waited, but even by evening, he hadn’t returned. So I called, and…”
“And? What did the teacher say?”
Junhee’s heart felt like it would give out any moment.
“The teacher said she dropped Bodam off at the same time as always in front of the orphanage, but no one saw him come inside. Oh, Junhee, what do we do?”
The director clutched Junhee’s hands, hitting her own chest in frustration.
She sobbed, blaming herself for not taking care of Bodam properly, tears streaming down her face.
Her anguished cries brought Junhee back to his senses.
If he fell apart now, who would find Bodam?
That thought alone held his crumbling heart together.
“You filed a report, right? With the police?”
The reply came not from the director but from Siwon, who was standing behind Junhee.
“We reported it. I just checked the gate’s CCTV too. Bodam got off the daycare bus, waved goodbye, and hesitated at the gate before walking out of the camera’s blind spot.”
“Where could he possibly go…”
“He’s been pestering Mom lately, asking when you’d visit and begging her to call you. Mom kept telling him you were busy and would come soon, but this morning he threw a tantrum, refusing to go to daycare, so Mom scolded him.”
Hearing this, Junhee’s heart sank completely.
“Bodam… because of me…”
He must have been waiting so eagerly, counting the days for him to visit.
He knew exactly how he must have felt.
He knew it all and still broke his promise.
“No, it’s not your fault, Junhee. It’s mine. I’m the one who failed her.”
The director shook her head, gripping Junhee’s hands tightly.
As the police arrived and began questioning the director, Junhee tried to slip out the gate.
“Hyung, Junhee hyung! Where are you going?”
Siwon caught up to him, pulling him back.
“I have to find Bodam.”
Junhee’s dark eyes flickered like a dying light as he turned to face Siwon.
“The police are here. He doesn’t even have a phone, and we don’t know where he went. Are you just going to wander around aimlessly?”
“So what? Are you saying I should just sit and do nothing while we wait for the police? What if something happens to him in the meantime?”
“Nothing will happen. Just calm down, please…”
Junhee shook off Siwon’s arm forcefully.
“Let go. I’ll handle this myself.”
“Hyung!”
Siwon reached out to grab Junhee’s collar again, but his arm was blocked.
Taeryu stood between them like an unyielding wall.
“Damn it. You! Stop him, will you? Weren’t you the one lecturing me about priorities earlier?”
Taeryu glanced down at Junhee, his gaze steady and inscrutable.
Junhee clenched his lips and looked up at him.
If he dared to stand in his way, Junhee was prepared to push through, no matter what.
“This is my priority.”
Taeryu lightly grabbed Junhee’s wrist.
“Let’s go, Junhee.”
“….”
Without another word, Junhee followed him outside.
Behind them, Siwon’s angry shouts echoed.
By now, night had fully fallen.
The car moved along a dimly lit road, passing a flickering streetlamp.
“Do you know any places she might go?”
At the wheel, Taeryu glanced toward Junhee, who sat in silence, his expression clouded.
Slowly, he shook his head.
“Maybe the house you used to live in?”
“No… This has always been Bodam’s home since he was born.”
“What about a favorite place or somewhere he often went?”
“Other than the local playground… there’s nowhere in particular he could go.”
Junhee racked his brain, trying to think of places Bodam liked.
Thoughts surfaced briefly before crumbling like a poorly made sandcastle.
Suddenly, Junhee’s face lit up with realization.
“The market… The market!”
“The market?”
“Yes! He loves snacks and looking at all the different items there. Every time, he’d ask to stop by.”
The market was like a wonderland for six-year-old Bodam—a place full of things he desired but could rarely have.
“Whenever I asked where he wanted to go, he always said the market. I’d buy him one thing he liked.”
Even when Junhee told him to pick anything he wanted, Bodam would always choose just one snack and say, ‘This is enough,’ with a bright smile.
He’d eat it all before they returned to the orphanage.
Listening to Junhee, Taeryu pulled out his phone and made a call.
“Market… kid… six years old… Na Bodam…”
Hearing those words strung together over the call, Junhee’s stomach churned with unbearable anxiety.
* * *
Bodam better be alive