The pizza and chicken were delivered at the same time. He’d tried to order draft beer too, but gave up since Jung Kyungwoo wasn’t the kind of person who’d drink alcohol of ambiguous identity in brown bottles.
Jaeha placed the pizza and chicken on the island table separating the living room and kitchen. He wasn’t a woman, and the other wasn’t even a pretty man—he had absolutely no intention of setting things up prettily just to feed him.
But Kyungwoo was being annoying.
“What about plates? Don’t you have napkins?”
He nitpicked at everything.
“Just eat it as is.”
“I’m not a barbarian. It’ll get greasy.”
“For someone getting a free meal.”
An ordinary conversation that could flow between people who weren’t on good terms continued. The very fact of doing this with Jung Kyungwoo created a strange sense of incongruity.
To shake off the ambiguous feeling that was neither bad nor not bad, he focused only on opening the lid of the pickled radish. That’s when it happened.
Smack.
A black card landed on the table. It wasn’t a familiar domestic card company but had the logo of a famous North American card company stamped on it.
“Is this enough? Where are the plates?”
“Hey, a card?”
He should have told him to show off his card at his own house. But before that, Kyungwoo got in first.
“I’ll give you cash later. I don’t carry it around.”
While saying that, he rummaged through the sink cabinet without even asking.
“How buried away did you leave these?”
Having found several plates that were rarely used, Kyungwoo submerged them in the sink. At the same time, he removed the arm support device hanging around his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“How can I use dirty things?”
Kyungwoo rinsed the dishes he’d found with water, then wiped them with the kitchen towel that had been placed on the sink and set them on the table.
Even though they were simple movements, there was somehow a proficiency that felt hard to approach. The cleanliness of lightly washing old plates before using them was something he’d only seen from his mother, a professional housewife with decades of experience.
While watching with blank eyes, Kyungwoo took out forks, small bowls, and even a paring knife.
“A knife?”
He flinched and wondered if he should take that away. However, Kyungwoo casually pushed Jaeha aside with his shoulder, cut open the plastic of the pickled radish with the paring knife, and placed it in the prepared bowl.
When he folded the torn-off kitchen towel, placed the fork on it, and put the washed plate next to it, it looked quite presentable.
“Beer?”
“Huh? Oh.”
Jaeha unconsciously opened the refrigerator door and took out two cans of beer. He didn’t forget to stock it with decent brands whenever he stopped by the mart.
“Your beer taste is reasonably good.”
“Yeah. Right.”
Though a condescending evaluation had been delivered, this time he wasn’t particularly angry.
‘What’s with him being so skilled at housework? No, before that, it’s strange that a chaebol heir naturally does things like this. What the hell is up with this guy?’
With a bewildered feeling, Jaeha sat down in a chair at the table. Jung Kyungwoo, who had sat across from him first, was in the process of opening a beer can and bringing it to his mouth.
“Huh?”
Slightly startled, he reached for his beer but stopped midway.
“What? Don’t tell me you drugged this?”
“No, that’s not it.”
He’d flinched slightly because they were sitting face to face but Kyungwoo drank first without even clinking glasses. But thinking about it, there was no reason for them to cheerfully toast beer cans together, was there?
“How unpleasant.”
Kyungwoo frowned and tilted the beer can again.
Usually he’d easily pick things up with his bare hands, but somehow it felt like he shouldn’t. In the end, Jaeha put a piece of chicken on his plate with a fork for the first time in his life.
On the other hand, Kyungwoo picked up a pepperoni pizza. Also with his bare hands.
“You’re not using a fork?”
“Who uses a fork for pizza? That’s something only morons do who think they’re still European nobles because their ancestors came from Europe. Like the former mayor of New York.”
After treating it like ridiculous nonsense, Kyungwoo skillfully took a big bite of the large pizza.
“I saw you eat a hamburger with a fork. Obviously I thought… No, then why did you bring out the fork?”
“You’re going to eat that radish pickle with your hands? It’s dirty, so use the fork.”
Kyungwoo pointed at the pickled radish. Radish pickle.
‘A chaebol bastard raised in America, of course.’
His heart, which had been startled by the other’s unexpectedly polite behavior, rapidly found stability. While secretly relieved, Jaeha enjoyed his beer and chicken.
Come to think of it, he’d also heard somewhere that Americans liked pepperoni pizza. Also that even upper-class people were proactive about housework. Of course, it could be prejudice from what he saw and heard in media.
He was just momentarily surprised to encounter American culture unexpectedly from a descendant of a Korean chaebol.
“Your hand seems to be all better now.”
“I still have physical therapy left.”
“Physical therapy? Oh, physical therapy.”
He nodded. And the conversation cut off again. Kyungwoo seemed to like the pizza as he was devouring his second slice. Though he looked finicky, he had a better appetite than expected.
“But how did you grow up to become a pervert who takes hidden camera photos when you’re a prosecutor and all?”
Then, suddenly an uppercut came flying in.
He’d just bitten into a chicken piece and unconsciously chewed, causing hot oil to suddenly surge up.
“Ah!”
Jaeha, who spat the chicken onto his plate, gulped down beer.
“You scared me, you bastard.”
“Why? Did your measly conscience prick you?”
“Let’s not talk.”
Jaeha glared at Kyungwoo while pulling out the kitchen towel that had been under the fork and wiping the oil on his mouth and hands.
“Are your parents doing well?”
“Questions about parents are a very sensitive topic these days. I won’t ask what your parents do either, so you turn off your interest in my parents too.”
“Your parents show up on portals even without asking.”
“That’s your parents’ situation. Between you and me, there’s no mention, fairly.”
“How petty.”
“For a criminal, this is remarkably generous treatment. I even bought you pizza.”
“Poor person mindset.”
He almost got worked up again, but getting angry at every little thing wasn’t cool either. Instead, it was better to throw an appropriate punch at the same level.
“But how did you end up getting caught in that shabby state at that old hotel? Taeryoung is famous for strict family traditions, so your parents couldn’t have taught you that way.”
At those words, Kyungwoo’s complexion also twisted.
“The second topic with no mention, fairly, is that.”
“Then there’ll be no more seizures and fainting in front of me from now on.”
“That disgrace was a one-time thing.”
“Twice.”
“What?”
“You fainted twice.”
“Can’t you do something about that anchovy gizzard-like mindset?”
At those words, Jaeha put down the chicken he’d been eating.
“I heard that overseas Korean emigrants use a lot of classical Korean words because they left long ago. I’m confirming that today. Anchovy gizzard. Is this the Joseon era or what?”
“Shut up.”
“How long were you in America? Does this also fall under topics we can’t mention fairly?”
“About 12 years. Went back and forth a few times in between.”
“Alone?”
“With a hired nurse. Later I met someone I knew locally and lived together.”
Kyungwoo, who had been taking his third slice of pizza, suddenly made eye contact and asked.
“Why are you curious about that?”
“It’s strange. It’s ridiculous that you collapsed in a hotel looking like a drug addict, and it’s unusual for a chaebol family to send a young child abroad.”
“So you’re trying to dig into it because it seems like a weakness?”
“Was it too obvious?”
Then, Kyungwoo got up from his seat. He tensed up, thinking they were going to have it out. But Kyungwoo ignored Jaeha and walked to the refrigerator to get more beer himself.
“This is all that’s left.”
While saying that, he popped open the can. Only then did Jaeha, shaking his own can, slightly narrow his brows.
“It’s not enough.”
“Go buy some.”
“The mart in the complex is closed and the convenience store is far. Of course, drunk driving is illegal.”
“Have someone else do it.”
“Look. I know you have no concept because you ride around in a foreign car with a driver, but ordinary people don’t have secretaries or drivers. You don’t really need to know, but civil servants of decent rank can’t drive foreign cars even if they have money.”
“That’s too bad.”
Kyungwoo’s reaction was indifferent. Instead of finding fault and riling him up again, he walked toward the living room’s full-length glass window with his beer can.
After being silent for a moment, he looked down below intently as if he’d discovered something.
“There’s a kid wandering around alone late at night. Is it okay to leave them like that?”
“This is Korea, not America. There are many kids who wander around late in the apartment flower beds.”
“They’re young enough to ride a bicycle with training wheels. Leaving them alone is child neglect.”
Jaeha was rather bewildered by the sudden outburst.
“I’ll say it again, it’s only 11 o’clock. It’s time for kids returning from academy to catch their breath.”
“Because people are complacent like that, child-related incidents and accidents never stop! Even though it’s an apartment, anyone can come in!”
Kyungwoo was genuinely angry. While Jaeha was getting up from his seat, he threw down the beer can on the table as if tossing it and headed for the entrance. Without even grabbing the clothes he’d taken off on the sofa.
“Hey.”
Jaeha chased after him and tried to stop him, but Kyungwoo had already put on his shoes. Since the entrance was a push-to-open door, he quickly reached the elevator and was lucky enough to board an elevator that had just been coming down.
“Hey!”
Jaeha called out to him and pressed the open button, but it was already too late. The elevator descended rapidly.
“Why is he like that?”
Jaeha waited for the elevator to come back up. After going way up because someone had boarded it, he took the elevator that came back down and went to the first floor.
He passed through the glass door at the apartment entrance and ran to the garden on the side visible from his house. The streetlights were bright, so it was easy to distinguish people.
He easily spotted Kyungwoo standing over there wearing a dress shirt and vest. He was talking to a girl sitting on a bicycle.
“Do you live here? Where are your parents?”
“Who are you, mister?”
“You can’t wander around alone late at night. I’ll contact your parents for you, so tell me their phone number.”
“You’re a strange mister.”
The girl, who appeared to be an elementary school student—Korea’s strongest species—looked Kyungwoo up and down, then pushed off on the bicycle with both legs barely touching the ground.
“Kid, don’t just go. Tell me where your parents are. Otherwise, I’ll contact the police.”
“What? Why are you doing this?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
Kyungwoo blocked the route the student was trying to pass through from side to side, continuously demanding the parent’s phone number. The child, who had been looking at him with disdainful eyes at first, gradually grew scared and her voice became tearful.
“Ah, what the hell. Ugh. Mom! Mooooom!”
