Haejeong, watching from the end of the corridor with an e-cigarette between his lips, let out a short, humorless laugh. Munyeong hadn’t capitulated or snapped back, right to the very end. Quietly letting the situation pass was all he did. He carried himself with a steadiness that made it seem like this kind of thing was nothing new to him.
Haejeong stood there, leaning at an angle, watching as Munyeong drew closer. Thinking Haejeong had stepped away, Munyeong faltered for just a moment when he appeared, then slowly dipped his head in greeting and walked past. Even in the middle of all that, the courtesy was impeccable — and for a fleeting moment, Haejeong was carried back to the past.
He really hasn’t changed at all.
That was the thought that surfaced as he watched the figure disappear.
“You all know there’s been a theft on campus, right?”
One day, the homeroom teacher slapped the lectern with stern authority and addressed the class. Three separate thefts had occurred on school grounds recently. One student had lost the latest model phone, another had lost the accumulated class funds — and in the class where Munyeong and Haejeong sat, Haejeong’s luxury watch had gone missing. What mattered was that this wasn’t the first time something of Haejeong’s had disappeared.
He had vaguely figured something like this would happen at a school full of ordinary people. But first it was his five-million-won headphones, then a four-million-won windbreaker. The watch was the last straw. At auction, it would fetch over a hundred million won.
He had let the smaller things go — but the watch was different. Bringing a watch like that to school had been the mistake. It was a watch Rep. Chu treasured, an heirloom that had belonged to her late elder brother — in other words, his father’s older brother. Madam Chu Yeonan had a particular attachment to that watch. It was the final piece made by an Italian craftsman now deceased, and it was well known among the wealthy. Even surrounded by no shortage of expensive things and accessories, his mother had always been especially fond of it — and Haejeong knew that, which was precisely why he made a point of wearing it around. To get under Chu Yeonan’s skin. His mother. The two of them had always struck sparks off each other just by being in the same room, and this was a period when their relationship had deteriorated sharply for reasons of their own.
Other consumable things — if they went missing, you could just buy another. But this was the late elder uncle’s legacy, something Rep. Chu had kept under lock and key in a private safe. News that Haejeong had lost the watch spread through the school like wildfire.
Someone must have taken it. Whether it was worth a billion won or not, true or exaggerated, all manner of useless talk was drifting around. It eventually reached the homeroom teacher’s ears, and since Haejeong also needed to get the watch back above all else, he quietly admitted he had lost it.
But to think it would come to this childish method of finding it.
Haejeong propped his chin up crookedly and stared at the teacher.
“If you’re honest with me, I’ll let it go just this once.”
The tone — like he was talking to elementary school kids. Haejeong couldn’t suppress a contemptuous smile. Someone who would be an adult next year had lost all sense of judgment and stolen a watch — did the teacher really think a speech like that was going to make someone crawl forward on their own?
He chewed on his own irritation, thinking what an idiot he’d been for hoping for any help in the first place.
“Everyone close your eyes.”
The teacher said it firmly, but the students, being treated as suspects, looked around in bewilderment as if they couldn’t make sense of what was happening. The restlessness wouldn’t settle — and Haejeong, who had one leg kicked out over the side of his desk, slammed it so hard the desk shook, and opened his mouth with a sharp edge.
“He said close your damn eyes.”
He didn’t think this method would actually find anything — but Haejeong was desperate too. If Madam Chu Yeonan found out, he was as good as dead. He lived without fear of much, but the truth was that Chu Yeonan was a far more terrifying woman than Chairman Yeon. When she said she’d do something, she did it, and once her eyes turned cold, son or no son meant nothing to her.
“Ahem… right. Haejeong is in a really difficult position right now. Everyone close your eyes — can’t someone just be honest? I’ll absolutely keep it confidential. And Haejeong has said that as long as it’s returned, he’ll bury the whole matter.”
Haejeong, for his part, couldn’t care less — he jiggled his leg with careless indifference. Damn. Broke little thieves. At least they know what’s valuable, for all the good it does them.
“Are you suspecting us?”
In the subdued atmosphere, someone raised their hand with an aggrieved look.
“It’s less about suspicion — I just want to give someone who made a wrong choice in a moment of weakness the chance to come forward.”
The teacher moved through the sophistry smoothly. The student who had voiced the complaint was the same one who had once been caught by Haejeong carrying a counterfeit luxury item and had been publicly humiliated for it.
“Alright, everyone close your eyes.”
But not a single hand went up. Of course not. These were high schoolers, not primary school children — who would fall for something like that? Haejeong let out a deep sigh at the teacher’s pathetic solution and sank back into his chair.
The childish interrogation ended and the teacher left, leaving the classroom in disarray. Students speculated among themselves about who had done it, and a few came up to Haejeong to express their concern. But none of it was reaching his ears — and in that moment, the student who had voiced the complaint earlier approached Im Munyeong, who was sitting at the very back of the class with almost no presence at all, and kicked the leg of his desk hard.
“Wasn’t it you?”
The desk jolted, and Munyeong looked up with a startled expression.
“What do you mean…?”
“What do I mean. Thief.”
“……”
“You stole that uniform too, didn’t you.”
He grabbed Munyeong’s uniform and shook him roughly. Munyeong looked caught off guard at first, then composed himself and shook his head calmly.
“I… didn’t.”
He shook his head with a guileless smile, which only seemed to make him look more foolish in the other’s eyes — so the student kicked Munyeong’s worn bag off the hook on the desk.
“Yeah right. Everyone already knows it was you orphanage kids who stole Yeongju from Class 3’s phone too.”
“……”
“We all know you lot have sticky fingers. So why pretend otherwise?”
That part was true. Among the orphanage kids attending the same school as Munyeong, there were two others — and both had a reputation for being trouble. One for stealing, one for fighting. They were a clear example of how easily kids who go unprotected can go wrong.
“…It wasn’t me.”
Munyeong shook his head without showing a trace of offense, even under accusations with no evidence. As though the suspicion were only natural. But his own position was clearly stated.
“You sure it wasn’t you?”
“…Yes.”
“Then you won’t mind if I go through your bag?”
It was clearly crossing a line — but Munyeong couldn’t answer. Wronged, and yet accepting it like a fate he had no choice but to endure. Haejeong, chin resting in his hand, watching idly, clicked his tongue and shook his head. Anyone could see it wasn’t him. Haejeong could tell without even thinking about it. You can know the depths of the sea but never a person’s heart — and yet, watching those steady, unwavering eyes that didn’t falter even as he shrank and flinched, that was what came to mind. Someone with nothing to hide. The kind of eyes only a person like that has.
“If it comes out, you’re dead.”
Without waiting for a yes, the student flipped Munyeong’s bag upside down and shook everything onto his desk. But what tumbled out was nothing but textbooks, stationery, and a few job listing flyers. Every student in the class had closed in to watch or simply stand by. At the center of it all, Munyeong was taking undeserved humiliation without breaking. Haejeong kept his eyes fixed on him, chin still in his hand. No resentment showing — but there was backbone. Shrinking — but not trembling.
“Damn… hey, check his locker too.”
When nothing came out of the bag, the student nudged his friend and tilted his chin toward the storage cabinet at the back of the classroom. But the locker turned up nothing either.
“I mean. Would he have hidden it at school?”
“Maybe he already turned it into cash.”
“This is exactly why people say they should put CCTV in classrooms. Because of trash like this.”
The student thumped Munyeong on the forehead as he sat there. Even under that contempt and humiliation, Munyeong looked back at him without expression and quietly spoke.
“…It really wasn’t me.”
He held the same position from beginning to end without wavering — and something in that steadiness made the other student falter. He clicked his tongue in frustration, gave Munyeong’s desk leg one more pointless kick to vent his irritation, and walked out of the classroom. Alone in his displeasure at having suspected the wrong person.
Once the ringleaders left, Munyeong quietly gathered his things from the floor. Not a single one of the students who had been crowding around moved to help. They had all lost interest and looked away — but Haejeong’s gaze didn’t move.
What’s his deal.
He watched with a baffled sort of laugh, eyes still fixed on him — and right at the moment Munyeong picked up the last item, their eyes met across the air. He had expected Munyeong to look away immediately. Instead, Munyeong stared back at Haejeong, direct and steady. At that gaze meeting him head-on, Haejeong’s brow twitched — and in that moment, Munyeong came toward him.
