Yieum had assumed, even after hearing the title Geumbyeon, that he couldn’t be a lawyer. A lawyer who called a gangster sir.
Then it occurred to him — a gangster who broke the law on a daily basis was exactly the kind of VIP client a lawyer would have. Law-abiding citizens rarely had cause to meet with lawyers, after all.
Having heard the answer, Chaehyeok let out a long breath and pressed his fingers to the space between his brows. He stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in the paper cup, leaned back with both arms stretched behind him, and fixed his gaze on Yieum.
“The biological father looked like the type you can’t reason with. And the kid hates him too.”
Would there happen to be any serious disqualifying grounds? Failure to exercise visitation rights, nonpayment of child support, deficiencies in financial or health status……
“Kid, you answer.”
Chaehyeok chinned at Yieum to speak. It wasn’t a difficult answer. Every condition the lawyer was listing off sounded like a legal definition of his biological father.
“All of them.”
Wonderful. If a third party more suitable for the student’s welfare can be designated as guardian, the court will prioritize that.
Yieum’s face brightened, but Chaehyeok looked displeased. He crossed his arms, leaned forward, and brought his face close to the phone lying on the floor.
“I’m telling you, not a single blood relative.”
You yourself are eligible to file for appointment as temporary guardian, sir. ……As long as the student consents.
“Is that right?”
This time it was Chaehyeok whose expression brightened, while Yieum went pale. Forced to a crossroads between his biological father and a gangster, there was really only one choice available to Yieum. He was about to ask what would happen if he didn’t consent — but Chaehyeok switched off the speaker and brought the phone to his ear first.
“Geumbyeon, let’s go over the details.”
No matter how hard Yieum strained his ears, the lawyer’s voice was no longer audible. To make it worse, Chaehyeok got up and stepped out onto the balcony. He stood there for quite a while, listening with one hand in his pocket, then slid the window back open and came into the living room without dragging it out.
He looked at Yieum, who was gazing up at him with anxious eyes, and opened his mouth with a somewhat refreshed smile.
“Kid, how about you and I have a nice little talk.”
Somehow, that looked more frightening than when he was scowling and swearing.
* * *
As Yieum stepped out of the classroom at the end of the school day, someone came barreling into him from behind. He stumbled and turned around — and sure enough, it was Seongmin, basketball tucked under one arm. An elementary school friend who had looked out for Yieum when he transferred, and the one friend who knew almost everything about his situation.
“Yeon Yieum, let’s go play!”
“I have to go to the courthouse today.”
He had an in-person interview at the family court with Chaehyeok that afternoon. Given the choice between his biological father, Chaehyeok, or simply waiting around, there had only been one option Yieum could pick.
It was temporary guardianship for now, and Chaehyeok’s lawyer had said he would handle everything.
He’d been told he only needed to answer a few questions over the phone — positioning himself as someone who had known Chaehyeok for a long time, and actively expressing his willingness to have him as his guardian. He thought after that it would be settled without incident, but what came flying in without warning was a summons requiring both of them to appear in person.
“Oh, is today that day? The interrogation?”
“I’m not a criminal…… they said it’s just a simple in-person inquiry.”
“Ah, forget it then, I’m going home too. Taking the bus?”
“Yeah.”
Seongmin darted out of the classroom, tossed the ball to the friends waiting outside, and came running back. He slung a sun-darkened arm over Yieum’s shoulder and chattered away on his own about one thing and another.
Yieum found Seongmin comfortable that way — as long as he gave the occasional sign that he was listening, Seongmin was perfectly happy talking on his own.
Outside the school gates, a row of cars lined up to pick up departing students. That had nothing to do with Yieum, of course, so he didn’t spare it a glance and turned toward the bus stop.
“Whoa, that’s an expensive car.”
So he gave only an absent nod at Seongmin’s exclamation. He was studying the map to figure out the fastest route to the courthouse.
“Kid.”
“Wow…… that’s embarrassing. Still calling a middle schooler kid.“
“Must still look like a baby to the parents.”
Yieum answered before he could think, at Seongmin’s snickering remark.
Maybe because he’d been hearing that word so often lately — there was a strange flicker of resistance at hearing it mocked. And if it were a nickname said by parents with affection, he wouldn’t find it embarrassing at all.
“Kid! Where are you going!”
But the voice that burst from behind him had a peculiarly casual, familiar ring to it.
He pushed down the ominous premonition that had latched onto his ankles, grabbed Seongmin’s sleeve, and tried to put distance between himself and this spot as quickly as possible.
But the owner of that voice was never going to let that happen.
“Kid! Yeon Yieum!”
“Huh?”
“……”
Yieum turned his stiff body around with effort and looked toward the sound.
Chaehyeok was standing by the passenger-side door of a large black sedan, waving casually. And every pair of eyes in the vicinity had turned to look at Yieum. With that volume of a voice calling out like that, people were naturally curious about who the kid was.
Chaehyeok had never once made contact. He’d only coordinated and notified the court date through his lawyer. With no word whatsoever about picking him up, Yieum had simply assumed they’d meet at the courthouse.
“Yieum, do you know him?”
“My uncle.”
“Huh? Uncle?”
Seongmin knew almost everything about Yieum’s situation, which meant he also knew there was no uncle. Yieum knew it would seem strange, but no explanation came to mind.
On top of that, far too many people were already watching — his only thought was to get away from here as fast as possible.
“I’ll explain tomorrow.”
If he heard one more strange thing here, he was going to collapse from mortification.
“Huh? Oh…… see you tomorrow.”
Seongmin’s farewell didn’t reach Yieum’s ears as he hurried away.
The man leaning against the car like a model was far too conspicuous. He wasn’t wearing his usual all-black suit — instead, a neat, slightly navy-toned dress suit, complete with a tie.
“How did you get here?”
“Drove.”
“That’s not what I——”
“Just get in.”
Without even listening to what he was trying to say, Chaehyeok had gone ahead and opened the passenger door.
Apparently worried he might bolt even now, he waited until Yieum had his seatbelt on before closing the door. The fact that he hadn’t said a word about coming to pick him up was clearly a calculated move — say it in advance and Yieum would find a way to avoid it.
Chaehyeok got into the driver’s seat and had the car moving almost before he’d sat down. One hand on the wheel, the other clicking his seatbelt in. There was still plenty of time before the appointed hour, and yet he looked strangely rushed.
Chaehyeok scanned the road on either side and chinned toward the window.
“That — a friend of yours?”
“Pardon?”
Outside the window, Seongmin was standing stock-still, glaring at the car. Yieum quickly waved, but Seongmin stayed rigid, eyes sharp and narrowed.
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t see in from outside.”
In the rearview mirror, Chaehyeok was watching Yieum with a smirk. The mocking tone carried something distinctly amused underneath it.
It seemed the windows were tinted — you could see out from inside but not in from outside. Made sense for someone with a lot to hide.
First time seeing someone ride in an expensive car for the first time. Yieum knew nothing about cars, but even he could tell this was something expensive and quality. The seats were large and plush, the interior spacious. Without worrying about appearances, he sank his back deep into the seat and muttered a complaint —
“If you were going to come pick me up, you could’ve at least let me know.”
“Surprise.”
“I wouldn’t have run even without all this.”
“You going to run, kid?”
“Stop calling me kid, and I said I wouldn’t run.”
His response made clear he hadn’t listened at all, and Yieum made no attempt to hide the exasperation rising in him.
The car had been rounding a corner slowly and came to a stop at a red light. Chaehyeok rested one hand on the wheel and turned his upper body toward Yieum.
His face held unmistakable interest.
“So you do get angry.”
“……”
Yieum’s lips parted slightly, then closed again. Does that mean I’m not allowed to get angry. Even in the middle of adolescence at that. But Chaehyeok didn’t look like he meant it that way — if anything, he looked entertained. Like someone who had just found an amusing new thing to poke at.
“Now you actually seem like a kid.”
“You were the one calling me kid this whole time.”
Yieum fired back shortly. Who exactly had been calling him kid, kid from the very beginning. The corner of his eye rose slowly as he glared at the driver’s seat. He had a great deal he could say to this man who had not a shred of consistency — but in the end he just pressed his lips shut.
Chaehyeok watched that in steady silence, and something shifted at the corner of his mouth. A smile so faint it was barely perceptible — but unmistakably not the artificial one he usually wore.
The hand of Chaehyeok, who had been studying Yieum like a subject of observation, began to move. Slowly at first — almost imperceptibly. The back of his hand cut through the air, and Yieum’s skin registered the change before his eyes did. He noticed the fingers drawing gradually closer only after the warmth — not yet touching — had already reached near his chin.
“Wha——”
