The hallway filled with noise because it was break time, loud footsteps and chatter could be heard, lockers opening and closing. But Han Jungtae barely heard any of it. He walked slowly while typing on his phone, head lowered, thumbs moving fast. His mind was elsewhere, still tired from everything that happened earlier at the gymnasium.
Then…
snatch.
The phone vanished from his hand.
Jungtae flinched. "H-Huh?"
A tall figure stood in front of him, twirling the stolen phone between his fingers like a toy.
Owen.
Kwon Owen looked relaxed, almost bored, but there was a spark in his eyes that made Jungtae's eyes narrowed.
"Why didn't you join the match earlier?" Owen asked, voice light. "I was hoping we could play."
Jungtae reached out quickly. "Give it back."
But Owen took a step back, still holding the phone out of reach.
And before Jungtae realized it, Owen grabbed his wrist, firm, cold, and pulled him toward the nearest door. An empty classroom.
"Hey! What do you want!?"
The door shut behind them with a loud thud.
Jungtae stumbled, catching the edge of a desk, breath uneven. "What are you doing?"
"I heard your grandpa is sick." Owen's voice cut through his words.
Jungtae froze.
Owen leaned towards Jungtae, one hand on the desk behind Jungtae, studying him. "So those medicine bottles… those were for him, right?"
Jungtae's grip tightened on the other edge of the table. His throat went dry. "Sigh… yeah. Now give my phone back."
"Wait." Owen stepped closer. "Listen to me first."
Jungtae frowned. "What?"
Owen didn't blink. "I know it's hard for you. Working. Studying. Taking care of him." His eyes lowered for a second, then met Jungtae's again. "I know the cost of those medicines. It must be hard on you."
Silence stretched between them.
Jungtae looked away. His chest tightened, a strange mix of embarrassment and anger boiling inside.
Owen's next words dropped calmly, but they landed heavy.
"Have a deal with me."
Jungtae snapped his head up. "What?"
"Keep meeting with me, anytime I call or text, you should come immediately." Owen said slowly, clearly, "and I'll give you the money you need."
The air in the room seemed to stop moving.
Jungtae stared at him, disbelief locking his limbs in place. "Are you serious? What do you even mean by that?"
"I am."
"No." Jungtae shook his head at once. "I'm not interested."
Owen smirked softly, as if he expected that. Almost like he was amused.
"I'll give you time to think."
"I don't need to think!"
Owen pressed the phone back into his hand, fingers brushing his for a second.
Then he turned around and opened the door.
"I don't need it!!" Jungtae shouted, louder than he meant to.
Owen didn't look back. But the small grin on his face widened as he walked down the hall.
"We'll see," he muttered under his breath.
ৎ────
Classes ended, and Jungtae walked beside Woojin toward the school gates. His steps felt heavy, his thoughts spiraled.
'What did Owen mean by that deal? Keep meeting him? Could it be…'
He shook his head hard.
'No. No way. Owen only likes bothering him. That's it. That has to be it.'
"Jungtae?" Woojin asked, noticing his distracted face.
"Huh? Yeah?"
Woojin was about to ask more, but didn't get the chance. They stopped at the pedestrian lane while cars passed in front of them.
Two older students stopped beside them, chatting.
"Did you hear about that old homeless man?"
The words caught Jungtae instantly.
"What happened?" the other asked.
"They said he was food poisoned last night. Some kind hearted people brought him to the hospital, but… he didn't make it."
"Seriously? That's awful."
"People can be cruel. Why poison someone who has nothing?"
Jungtae's breath hitched.
Woojin turned to him. Watching Jungtae's expression. "Isn't he…"
Jungtae didn't wait. "Excuse me," he asked the two students, "Can you tell me what happened."
They briefly explained for a few minutes and walked on.
The moment they were gone, Jungtae stared at the ground, hands trembling slightly.
Woojin placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go check his spot."
They walked quickly, almost running, until they reached the corner where the old man always slept, under a small roof, beside the broken vending machine.
But instead of the old man, only scraps remained.
His old blanket. Worn-out clothes.
A flattened cardboard box, darkened by weather.
No warmth. Nobody. Only things remained.
Jungtae crouched, touching the blanket carefully. It felt cold. Abandoned.
"He was always cheerful whenever he saw me," he whispered. His voice cracked. "Even when he had nothing…"
Woojin knelt beside him. "Come on Jungtae, let's just pray for his peace." he said quietly.
Jungtae swallowed hard, tears burning behind his eyes. "I should've talked to him more. Given him more. He looked so lonely."
"You already helped him more than most people ever did," Woojin replied. "You treated him like a person. That matters."
Jungtae wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Woojin pulled two small candles from his bag that they just bought earlier, and lit them. They placed them near the blanket.
They bowed their heads and prayed in silence.
The candles flickered softly, fighting the wind.
After a moment, Woojin gently tapped his back. "Come on. Let's go."
Jungtae nodded. He stood up slowly, giving the spot one last look before they walked away.
ৎ────
At 7 PM, Jungtae was still feeling sad about what happened, then the convenience store bell chimed as the door opened.
Jungtae straightened, ready to greet the customer. "Welco-"
His voice died.
Owen stepped in.
Their eyes met instantly.
Owen grinned. "So this is where you work."
Jungtae's shoulders slumped. "…Glad you found it. Now buy something and leave immediately."
"Relax." Owen walked deeper into the store, hands in pockets. "You look more stressed than usual."
"That's because you're here," Jungtae muttered under his breath.
Owen opened the refrigerator, grabbed several cans of alcohol, and walked to the counter. "You're so mean."
Jungtae scanned the items. "Drinking?"
"Yeah." Owen's grin widened. "Want to join me? We can sit in my car."
"No thanks." Jungtae said flatly.
Owen didn't look disappointed at all.
If anything, he looked entertained.
Jungtae placed the drinks into a plastic bag and handed it to him. "Here."
Owen didn't take it right away. Instead, he leaned down closer to the counter, closing the distance between them.
"So," he said softly, "have you thought about my deal?"
Jungtae flinched back. "I told you I'm not interested."
Owen tilted his head, almost amused. "Money isn't easy to earn."
"Then keep yours."
"Still stubborn." Owen chuckled, straightening up. "I like that."
Jungtae nearly choked on air.
Owen sat casually on the small customer stool near the counter, legs stretched out.
"What are you doing?" Jungtae snapped.
"Resting. This seat is quite comfortable."
"No, it's not."
Owen ignored him completely.
Instead, he watched Jungtae work, making comments every few minutes:
"You don't smile much."
"You're avoiding eye contact. I thought you've got guts."
"You look cuter when annoyed."
At one point, Jungtae considered throwing a pack of ramen at him.
"Stop talking." Jungtae replied.
After what felt like forever, Owen finally stood.
"That's enough teasing for today," he said, taking the drink bag. "See you soon."
"Or never," Jungtae said.
"Soon," Owen corrected with a wink, then left.
The moment the door closed behind him, Jungtae let out a long, exhausted sigh.
"Why is he like this," he muttered, rubbing his face.
ৎ────
Inside his car, Owen sank back into the driver's seat. The streetlight outside cast a pale glow across his face as he opened a can and took a slow drink.
His phone buzzed. He groaned when he saw the caller. His sister. He answered. "What."
"Owen," she said sharply, "You are needed by father."
"What now?" he replied, taking another sip.
She sighed. "Dad wants you at the company tomorrow."
Owen rolled his eyes. "Not happening. You go."
"I can't. He's introducing you to the board."
"Don't care."
"You should," she snapped. "He's serious this time."
"He's always serious."
"He said he'll freeze your bank accounts if you skip again."
Owen stopped drinking. His fingers tightened around the can.
"So?"
"So?" she repeated. "How will you pay for anything? You know how Dad is. He'll cut everything, Owen. Everything. Don't be stubborn or he'll beat you up again."
Owen clenched his jaw. His heart pounded, anger rising like a slow boil.
"I don't want anything from him," he said through his teeth.
"Oh please. You say that, but you still use his money," she said. "Just show up tomorrow. It's one meeting. Smile. Shake hands. Leave."
Silence. Long. Heavy.
"Owen?" she asked.
He ended the call without answering. The phone dropped onto the passenger seat.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel was so hard, it made a sound.
His reflection stared back at him from the window, eyes cold, jaw tense, expression twisted with frustration.
"…Fuck this," he growled under his breath. "Damn old man."
He slammed the empty can into the seat beside him, chest heaving in anger.
He had no other choice.
And he hated it.