TEB Ch 75

My parents fought every day, and our house was always a mess. My father would often come home drunk, or sometimes not come home at all.

When he did come home, my mother would lock the door with a proud look on her face. It was always Suhyuk or his older sister who had to calm him down when he came home drunk in the middle of the night, unable to open the door with the familiar number code lock, and he would scream.

Until school uniforms became the usual attire, Suhyuk always wore old and untidy clothes to school, and no matter how noticeable his appearance was, he was always treated as an outcast. Even when his father smoked on the veranda, ignoring the complaints of the neighbors, the smell would stick to his clothes hanging outside, and Suhyuk would become a laughingstock and be called to the teacher’s office.  

“Doesn’t your father care about that? You’re lying, aren’t you?”  

The teacher seemed unaware that there could be parents who defied common sense. After calling Suhyuk a few times and seeing that he didn’t change, he started treating him like a useless child and decided not to care.  

Suhyuk and his family were always met with familiar gazes.  

“That family is really problematic. You can always hear the parents fighting, and look at how the kids behave. I hear the daughter is always falling asleep at school, and the son doesn’t speak.”

With such gazes, Suhyuk never had a chance to create meaningful friendships.

My family hates me. Everyone else does, too. Suhyuk hated being at home, so he spent as much time outside as possible, often going to a pet shop near the local shopping center. Under the bright lights, small, cute puppies would yip and bark, welcoming Suhyuk. They were the only ones who showed him unconditional affection.

The puppies on display in the shop window changed every week, sometimes every day. Suhyuk liked watching them wag their tails excitedly whenever they met his eyes, regardless of how he looked. That was until one day, when he noticed a puppy struggling to breathe.

The pet shop owner, unaware that Suhyuk was sitting on the bench outside, staring into the shop window, picked up the sick puppy. At the time, Suhyuk believed the owner would take care of it.

He didn’t doubt it even when he saw the owner place the puppy into a small box and put it under the desk.

However, after setting the box down, the owner did nothing. He focused on cleaning the dirty showcase and refilling the empty display. A few hours later, when Suhyuk saw the owner wrap the now deceased puppy in a pee pad and throw it away like trash, he was shocked. After witnessing similar incidents a few more times, Suhyuk stopped spending time sitting in front of the pet shop.

He searched online and found out that it costs a lot of money to treat sick puppies. Suhyuk thought that he wanted to be the one to treat these sick puppies. The day he wrote down a different occupation for the first time on his career aspiration form, which he had always filled out as “office worker,” a boy in his class picked up Suhyuk’s survey and laughed at him.

“Do you know how well you need to study to become a veterinarian? Aren’t you the last in class? You’re always sleeping in the back during lessons.”

Suhyuk felt ashamed, being publicly humiliated in front of his classmates. His inability to keep up with lessons was due to the fact that since graduating from kindergarten, no one had cared about his academic performance. After class, for the first time, Suhyuk approached a teacher from another class, a popular one known for her gentle and kind demeanor, and asked how to study well.

The teacher, recognizing a child clearly neglected at home, chose not to get too involved and instead tactfully recommended a free study room run by the local government. While it was just a space where he could focus on studying without distractions, Suhyuk was grateful even for that. Although his only study materials were free educational resources, being naturally intelligent, he quickly caught up to advanced levels.

After that, many things began to change. He swapped out his old clothes for a better school uniform, and once he grew taller than most of his classmates, people started to gather around him.

“I heard you’re first in class 3? I saw the rankings posted. Which academy do you go to?”

During Suhyuk’s school days, it was common practice to publicly post the rankings of top students on bulletin boards, so it was normal for students he didn’t know to approach him first.  

Most of them asked to form study groups together or inquired about which private academy he attended. With his striking appearance, tall height, and outstanding grades, the same people who used to ignore him suddenly showed interest in him. Suhyuk found this attention uncomfortable.

People always had a reason for pretending to be friendly. They wanted to show off to others, or they hoped to gain something from him. Whenever that happened, Suhyuk would respond curtly to avoid being looked down on, and soon enough, a new label stuck to him. “That arrogant jerk, acting all high and mighty just because he’s smart and got lucky with his looks.”

Every time this happened, Suhyuk distanced himself from the other students and spent time alone. The only one he could confide in was a cat at a nearby animal hospital, which he passed by on his way back from the library.

Despite missing a leg, the cat would energetically roam around inside the hospital and always acknowledged Suhyuk when he passed by at the same time each day. A simple profile posted at the entrance of the hospital mentioned that the cat was six years old and had lost its leg in a car accident before being rescued by the hospital’s director, who had since made it the hospital’s mascot.

Before he knew it, Suhyuk would simply gesture from outside the window, and the cat would respond with a purr, rubbing its head affectionately against the glass, even though Suhyuk couldn’t hear the sound. Watching this, Suhyuk thought to himself, “Animals that don’t need to speak are more comfortable for him than people who can say a hundred words.“

When he first met Renard, it wasn’t much different. The fact that he could see the dragon he had only read about in novels in real life made Liev overly excited and forget the most important thing.  

Renard wasn’t like a dog or a cat. He could think like a human and communicate through language, and in terms of intellectual ability, he was superior to humans.

This kind of situation was something Liev had never even considered. Renard wasn’t someone who could be easily understood as if placed in the palm of his hand, nor was he someone Liev could simply impose his will on, claiming this was the “right direction.” Renard was far beyond what Liev had anticipated being able to handle.

Unlike animals, with whom Suhyuk could choose how much distance to keep and how much to accept, Renard crossed the boundaries Liev had set without hesitation, striding confidently past them. Instead of silently watching Suhyuk and retreating, Renard did the unexpected. He tied Liev down with unforeseen actions and pushed him into a corner.

Even if told not to lie, that he just needed to accept it… Liev didn’t know what it was like to be the recipient of unconditional love, not just in the position of a “caretaker,” or what it meant to be in a relationship where they could discuss and rely on each other for the best direction. He also had no idea how to handle such a situation.

He didn’t want to doubt Renard, but he was afraid of being abandoned. The experience of not being accepted by anyone left a fatal flaw in Suhyuk. He abandoned Renard, saying it was something unavoidable, but he didn’t want to be left alone. All the things he had forced under the pretext of being for Renard’s sake were ultimately just justifications for the choice that would hurt himself the least.

Having selfish and immature thoughts, Liev couldn’t even speak, just like the day when he brought home the baby chick to die and couldn’t even pet it with one finger. It was because a part of Suhyuk’s heart stopped growing, as if it were broken somewhere.  

“……”  

Just as Liev sighed, cooling his feverish forehead with the back of his hand, a familiar sound came from around the corner of the corridor. Very faint but clear, it was the sound of Renard’s tail brushing against his clothes. The creature waiting and watching from afar, faithfully obeying the order not to come, looked just like a puppy being scolded for doing something wrong.

At times like this, he really seems more like a puppy than a person…

Without realizing it, Liev let out a small laugh. Then Renard’s downcast voice came through.  

“Can I come closer now?”  

Ah, really. Nothing had changed since the time he suddenly jumped into his arms, saying, “I love you, Liev!” It was as if he was proving how useless and stupid it was to be anxious alone.