WANL Ch 12

“Nanyeong, but do you really have no thoughts of remarrying?”

While sipping tea after the meal, Nanyeong raised his eyebrows at the abrupt question.

The one asking was Jihoon, Nanyeong’s long-time friend. His eyes, as dark as his hair, carried a faint trace of amusement. Nanyeong gazed at those striking eyes for a moment.

“I saw it in an article.”

Nanyeong sighed, setting the teacup gently on its saucer and casting an irritated glance out the window. Jihoon, as if expecting the reaction, burst into laughter but didn’t stop his prodding.

“Someone said you’re secretly seeing someone. They claim you even rented an officetel for them and are treasuring them to avoid getting caught.”

“Are you tailing me too?”

At the unusually detailed inquiry, Nanyeong felt uncomfortable. He deliberately responded sharply, as if warning Jihoon to stop, but Jihoon shook his head without losing an ounce of confidence.

“I heard it over drinks with a journalist I’m close to.”

As Jihoon leaned back casually against his chair, the contours of his well-toned chest became visible through his shirt. Nanyeong instinctively averted his eyes from where his gaze had landed, lowering them instead.

Jihoon rested his hand on a clear glass of water. Though it was undoubtedly a man’s hand, with prominent veins, his nails were always neatly trimmed and smooth. Considering his celebrity status, where appearances mattered, it was no surprise. His naturally handsome and striking looks had only become more refined with time, polished to perfection with constant care. More so than when they first met during their school days.

It didn’t sit well with him. Lowering his gaze once again, Nanyeong remained quiet. Watching the transformation of the rough diamond he once knew into something entirely for public display had never been enjoyable. Perhaps it was all the more unbearable because outwardly, he played the role of wishing for Jihoon’s success.

“It feels like it might be true, seeing as Seo Nanyeong is keeping it a secret even from me.”

“……”

“Is it true?”

Jihoon pressed as if he wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard a clear answer from Nanyeong. Letting go of the annoying pretense, Nanyeong simply stared at him. Jihoon had always introduced his romantic partners to Nanyeong, as though it was a matter of loyalty between friends.

“What if it is true?”

“I’d congratulate you, of course. And ask you to introduce me.”

“……”

“It’s the first time you’d be in a proper relationship, isn’t it? I’m curious. What kind of woman is she?”

It was an utterly impossible scenario. Twisting his lips in thought, Nanyeong pondered. Would Jihoon be able to speak so casually when he found out the person Nanyeong was seeing wasn’t a woman but a man?

And if the two were to face each other… it would be, quite literally, a disaster waiting to happen.

At a glance, their physiques, faces, and overall atmosphere were strikingly similar. On top of that, hadn’t he wickedly gifted Hyunjae clothes and watches from the very brands Jihoon preferred? The current Hyunjae had transformed entirely into the image Nanyeong had envisioned.

It was practically like playing with a doll. A dark, perverse hobby that must never be exposed.

Thus, the two of them meeting was an event that must never occur. The moment they met, Jihoon would instantly realize everything—the reason Nanyeong had never been in a proper relationship and the reason his marriage hadn’t lasted.

“Anyway, if you remarry, make sure it’s with someone you truly love. You struggled with that during your first marriage, didn’t you? You need at least a little romantic feeling for someone you’re going to spend your life with.”

Even though Nanyeong found his advice unnecessary, he habitually nodded.

The meticulously calculated marriage everyone had deemed a perfect match had ultimately ended in failure. And it was all because of the man sitting before him.

“But do you really need to get married again?”

Nanyeong countered. Jihoon slightly widened his eyes.

“I don’t know. Marriage isn’t a necessity, is it?”

“Why do you think that? Don’t you feel like you’d want to get married if you fell in love?”

“Well…”

Nanyeong trailed off.

“It’s not like I can get married based solely on feelings of love.”

“Situation?”

“As you know, there’s a level to the people I date.”

Even if he had been interested in women and Hyunjae were a woman, marriage would still have been out of the question. As he thought that, Jihoon’s expression stiffened slightly at his words.

Seeing Jihoon’s face, Nanyeong realized his mistake and quickly added, “There are also the opinions of my family. It’s not a marriage I can decide on my own just because I want to. And I hate it when people who don’t even know me start talking about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Jihoon nodded readily. Being a celebrity, where every move became a topic of discussion, he could relate.

“Even so, I still want to.”

Jihoon offered a soft smile, expressing a different perspective. Looking at his understanding friend’s face, Nanyeong gave a bitter smile. Jihoon, with his broad understanding, rarely argued even when opinions differed. While that was something he admired, the content of Jihoon’s words, reflecting the carefree concerns of a heterosexual, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Marriage seems like it would bring stability.”

“No? Nothing made me feel as unstable as marriage did. Even sleeping in the same bed as someone else was torture.”

“You’re really peculiar. But maybe it’d be different if it were with someone you love.”

Nanyeong silently looked at Jihoon, who seemed to be nudging him toward marriage.

“For me, it was like that. My preferences and priorities didn’t matter anymore in front of someone I loved. Just being with them made everything else irrelevant. My usual habits, likes and dislikes, hobbies—everything changed completely depending on who I was with. It’s not about what I’m doing; it’s about who I’m with.”

“You really seem… suited for relationships,” Nanyeong said, recalling the term “relationship-oriented” he had once learned from someone. Jihoon nodded in agreement.

“Maybe. I can’t live without the feeling of love.”

At Jihoon’s words, Nanyeong felt a sudden surge of bitterness rise in his throat. It was the festering remnants of emotions he thought he’d long since discarded.

Wanting to push back, Nanyeong made an immature rebuttal. “I’m the opposite. I don’t need love.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What would you do if someone wanted to love you?”

That could never happen. Nanyeong answered only in his mind.

It was an impossible dream. The man before him wasn’t about to suddenly fall for him.

On top of that, Jihoon was a man who lived off the love and attention of the masses, seeing it as his calling. With his career on the line, there was no way he’d take the risk of choosing a same-sex partner. And the same went for Nanyeong. The environment surrounding him had long since stripped him of the freedom to act on his feelings.

“…I don’t really have the desire to be loved,” Nanyeong muttered.

“Really?”

“As you know, my life isn’t exactly lacking in anything.”

Nanyeong shrugged. His smug expression made Jihoon burst into laughter.

“You might look like that, but it’s hard to believe coming from someone rumored to be in a passionate relationship.”

This time, Nanyeong didn’t even force a smile.

He sincerely believed it—that love wasn’t necessary in his life.

He didn’t particularly want to be loved, either. He had endured so far with that mindset.

A life without obvious deficiencies delays the realization of what’s missing. Thanks to that, Nanyeong could pretend not to be passionate about anything. The occasional hollowness, he believed, could always be filled with something else.

“Anyway, Nanyeong, there must be so many people out there.”

“What?”

“People who want to love you passionately. You’re worth it.”

“……”

“So don’t build such high walls. Give them a chance.”

At Jihoon’s words, Nanyeong felt the heart he had buried deep inside start to race again, as if it had forgotten its place. Just the words “You’re worth it” stirred a ticklish excitement.

But this much was enough.

There was no need to be loved.

It was fine just to be by his side.

That was Nanyeong’s philosophy. It was the only truth he had gained through the reckless nurturing of emotions and endless heartbreak during his teenage years when he knew nothing.

That day, the two drank late into the night. It was possible because Jihoon was on a break. Before Jihoon started filming again, Nanyeong wanted to see him as much as possible. Even though they had met just two days ago, there was somehow still so much to talk about, and the time slipped by unnoticed.

Slightly drunk, Jihoon persistently pressed Nanyeong about the identity of the person rumored to be his lover, but Nanyeong remained tight-lipped to the end.

They only parted in the deep hours of the night. Jihoon raised his hand to his ear in the shape of a phone and said, “I’ll call you again.”

“Alright. When did you say the crank-in was?”

“At the end of this month.”

“You still have a little… time.”

“Yeah. Let’s meet often before then.”

“Okay.”

“It’d be even better if you brought your girlfriend next time.”

With a helpless smile, Nanyeong saw Jihoon off.

Once inside the car driven by his chauffeur, Nanyeong finally felt the effects of the alcohol. The composure he had maintained in front of Jihoon unraveled.

Leaning into the light intoxication, Nanyeong closed his eyes. Jihoon’s voice, the gaze that had rested on him, the slight touches like a pat on the shoulder or leaning lightly against him—all of it lingered. Long ago, such trivial gestures used to torment him. They seemed to tease his impossible desires.

Tonight, he had planned to go straight home since he was tired, but… he changed his mind midway.

“Can we head to Yongsan?”

At Nanyeong’s soft voice, the taciturn driver silently turned the car. Nanyeong gazed out the window.

In the past, he wouldn’t have known what to do with this giddy feeling, but now, he had a body to soothe his heated thoughts. As he envisioned a body perfectly tailored to his tastes, Nanyeong closed his heavy eyelids.

Ꮺ

The first memory of love.

Seo Nanyeong first met Yoo Jihoon during middle school. Even among the faces of adolescents shaped haphazardly by hormones, Jihoon stood out with his fair and clear complexion. Learning that he was the only son of a famous actor couple only made his extraordinary appearance more understandable.

Jihoon’s gentle eye smile and kind demeanor made him popular with both boys and girls. Meanwhile, Seo Nanyeong, like oil floating on water, struggled to blend in with his peers. Even in an international school, where most students came from affluent backgrounds, his family’s status was exceptional.

When Nanyeong enrolled, the school installed elevators, and the track in the playground was paved to rival an Olympic stadium. Not long after he started, news outlets even ran articles ranking the personal assets inherited by third-generation chaebols. Given the circumstances, it was natural for some students to feel a sense of disparity just from Nanyeong’s presence in their class.

At the time, Nanyeong could only glance at Jihoon from afar, unsure of how to approach him.

“I want to be friends with him.”

The initial emotion he felt was as simple as that. However, back then, Nanyeong was even more introverted and selective about people than he was now. For someone like him, who barely had any friends, the very act of wondering how to become closer to someone was an unfamiliar and daunting task.

Unable to approach Jihoon directly, he resorted to stealing glances and fantasized about becoming his best friend. If anyone were told that even Seo Nanyeong once awkwardly fretted over wanting to befriend someone, they wouldn’t believe it. That’s why Nanyeong kept his feelings to himself back then. Not even Jihoon knew.

“I heard your family’s loaded. I wanna be friends with you.”

To his surprise, Jihoon was the one who approached him first, joking playfully in a mischievous tone. Startled, Nanyeong looked up at him with wide eyes. Even when Jihoon asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?” in confusion, he was too dumbfounded to respond.

Nanyeong later tormented himself for a long time, regretting how he hadn’t acted like himself in that moment. That regret lingered until the two eventually became real friends.

Being precocious, Nanyeong soon realized that what he felt wasn’t mere friendship. When Jihoon reached out to other friends or casually communicated with pretty girls, Nanyeong would feel an inexplicable anger. It was a possessiveness too intense for simple friendship. On top of that, whenever Jihoon would lightly tap him with his large hands or lean his body against him, warmth would spread from deep within.

However, not once had he ever expressed his feelings. It was because even Nanyeong himself didn’t trust the purity of his emotions. Nanyeong, who had matured faster than his peers, knew all too well that love was fleeting. Such feelings were merely a trick played by hormones. Therefore, he believed that the restless emotions he felt toward his friend would eventually fade over time.

Moreover, being with someone of the same gender was an option that didn’t exist in his life at all.

Nanyeong was keenly aware of the kind of life he needed to lead to maintain what he had. He didn’t want to let emotions take the lead and foolishly tarnish the footsteps of his life.

Emotions aren’t eternal. The best example of this was Jihoon. He would fall for a girl as though he’d love her for a lifetime, cry pitifully after breaking up, linger in deep longing for a while, and then eventually move on with a refreshed face, ready to find a new love.

Nanyeong thought he would be the same. That his feelings for Jihoon would fade, that someone else would catch his eye, and that the uncomfortable history of liking a male friend would disappear as if it had never existed.

Of course, just because he tried to control his mind didn’t mean the process of unrequited love was any less painful or agonizing. While staying by his side as his closest friend, Nanyeong would sometimes cry quietly to himself. But thinking that one day he’d be free from these emotions made it bearable.

Thus, Nanyeong always stayed by Jihoon’s side, disguised as a friend. His unrequited love wasn’t dramatic. The thunder and storms existed only within his unseen depths.

Emotions that had been doomed from the start. All Nanyeong could do was quietly wait for those feelings to die out.

But it wasn’t until much later that Nanyeong realized something had gone terribly wrong.

Throughout his twenties, Jihoon experienced numerous romantic affairs and even had three fairly long relationships. After each breakup, he would always find his way to Nanyeong to drink. But Nanyeong, on the other hand, never seemed to find himself drawn to anyone else. For nearly a decade, his eyes were fixed solely on Jihoon.

He hadn’t even loved him passionately, nor had he nurtured or indulged his feelings—they were simply left unattended. And yet, inexplicably, the feelings had grown.

Perhaps he should have passionately loved him at least once, tasted the bitterness of failure, and moved on.

If he was still entangled because he hadn’t gone through the normal process of heartbreak…

While his emotions were left unchecked, the fire had quietly, steadily spread further. Confronting the vastness of his now unattainable feelings, he had no idea how to end them. It felt like facing an uncontrollable wildfire, too immense to handle.

Just as one feels powerless in the face of a great, uncontained blaze, Nanyeong, too, felt powerless before love. Observing this love, which had spread like a natural disaster, Nanyeong thought it was too late. There seemed to be no clear way to resolve it. All he could do was wait for it to eventually burn itself out.

Ꮺ

At twenty-six, Nanyeong was preparing for marriage.

Though he thought it was happening earlier than expected, his opinion on timing didn’t matter. Just as acquiring a good education and cultivating the proper manners befitting his position were taken for granted, marriage seemed like yet another requisite.

However, he accepted the process of preparing for his marriage as though it were someone else’s affair. It was, after all, absurdly limited how much his opinion mattered, even though he was the one getting married. This included choosing his partner.

“Who would’ve thought you’d get married while still a bachelor,” Jihoon remarked, finding it the most surprising thing. Watching Nanyeong, who had never experienced a romantic relationship, preparing for marriage, Jihoon playfully made nonsensical comments about “a quiet cat climbing onto the stove first,” oblivious to who was to blame for his celibacy.

Seeing Jihoon so cheerful, Nanyeong simply smiled in silence.

“You’ll be the most family-oriented, amazing husband. I know it,” Jihoon said with confidence, to which Nanyeong nodded.

Back then, even Nanyeong believed he could be. Having painfully realized that letting go of his feelings was beyond his will, he hoped marriage would break him apart and extinguish this vast wildfire. It seemed like the only way to quell the burning emotions.

If circumstances changed, if he had an obligation to love someone else, if his responsibilities increased…

Perhaps then, he’d finally be freed from these foolish emotions.

That was Nanyeong’s sole expectation from the marriage. He desperately wanted it to change him.

A few months later, Jihoon, riding on the fame of his actor parents, successfully debuted in the entertainment industry. His debut film was set to release two weeks after Nanyeong’s wedding.

Their respective turning points in their twenties—marriage and a debut—would undoubtedly alter the courses of their lives. Jihoon visited Nanyeong, and the two raised their glasses in hopes for each other’s successful futures.

That was the last sliver of hope left for Nanyeong. The faint hope that the changed reality would force an end to his dragging emotions. Because if that didn’t work, he had no idea how else to escape this love.

Ꮺ

Three years later, Nanyeong informed Jihoon that he had decided to divorce.

“I’m so… tired, Jihoon.”

“Nanyeong.”

“Huh… sniff… It’s suffocating, so hard…”

Nanyeong bit his lip, quietly crying while trying to stifle his sobs. It seemed as though he had never cried aloud before, and the muffled, inward sobs sounded pitiful. Only the silent tears flowing down his pale cheeks soaked his face.

Watching this, Jihoon found it hard to speak. After all, despite being friends for a decade, it was the first time he’d ever seen Nanyeong cry. Nanyeong was the type to never admit he was struggling, and his crying had never been caught by anyone.

On the surface, his friend’s marriage seemed to be functioning well, but it was clear now that it had been rotting from the inside for quite some time. Since Nanyeong got married and Jihoon became busy with his career in the entertainment industry, the two hadn’t seen each other as often over the past three years. Jihoon had simply assumed that his friend, now with a family, had different priorities. He hadn’t looked deeper or been there to check in.

Jihoon felt a faint sense of guilt as a friend.

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have tried to run away like this.”

“……”

“I thought I could just live this way… I really did…”

Wiping away his tears, Nanyeong let out a deep sigh as he gazed out the window. Jihoon, unsure of what to do, simply embraced his exhausted friend gently, thinking that a single act of comfort might mean more than a hundred words.

“Whatever decision you make, I’ll always be on your side.”

As Jihoon held him, Nanyeong’s shoulders trembled uncontrollably. Jihoon patted his back, as though saying he understood his feelings entirely, while Nanyeong bit his lip hard enough to hurt, holding back tears.

In that moment, Nanyeong felt overwhelmed by how pathetic and despicable he was for deceiving his kind friend. And yet, the warmth of Jihoon’s embrace, the one place he had always longed to rest in, only made him cry more.

He had even gone as far as getting married to abandon his one-sided love. But in the end, even that turned into a bitter failure.

The price he paid for using another person as a means to his own end was excruciating. Within three years, his marriage unraveled completely, becoming a public spectacle dissected by gossipers. Baseless speculation abounded as to why the couple hadn’t had children in those three years.

On top of it all, Nanyeong’s striking appearance, as beautiful as that of any celebrity, became easy fodder for public scrutiny. Everything from the couple’s private life to unfounded allegations of infidelity and trivial anecdotes unrelated to the divorce became issues simply because they involved “Seo Nanyeong.”

“Honestly, if I’d even had half as much fun as they’re saying, I wouldn’t feel this resentful.”

Nanyeong showed Jihoon a YouTube thumbnail with his name plastered across it in bold, sarcastically twisting his lips into a bitter smile.

“I know you’re not that kind of person,” Jihoon said.

“Yeah.”

Jihoon had been a witness to all the indignities Nanyeong endured throughout his divorce.

“Don’t go looking up this stuff anymore.”

“Okay…”

“Nanyeong, even if the whole world betrays you, I’ll still be your friend.”

Faced with Jihoon’s words, Nanyeong couldn’t bring himself to say anything in return. After all, he had been betraying Jihoon for years already.

The realization hit Nanyeong like a wave, leaving him drowning in self-reproach.

“How could I cling to such a trashy emotion for 15 years…”

If anything in the world was utterly worthless, it had to be his feelings.

No matter how long the time spanned, the years spent loving someone were meaningless. His feelings should never have existed in the first place. And yet, here he was, unable to discard the emotional garbage, dragging it along like a fool.

As punishment for liking his friend, Seo Nanyeong had to endure a heartbreak that stretched across 15 years. What made it even more agonizing was that Jihoon wasn’t the one causing this heartbreak—it was Nanyeong himself. He had been the one to coldly disregard his emotions the moment they arose.

Looking back, Nanyeong’s unrequited love had been doomed from the start, like a baby declared stillborn the moment it was conceived.

Nanyeong had never truly loved. All he had done was persistently kill off his feelings. His 15-year heartbreak felt like a slow, dull process of his heart being chipped away, silently leading to his demise. It was like bleeding out without even realizing it.

Without knowing the blood was draining from him, Nanyeong had gradually withered away, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

Ꮺ

It was only much later that Nanyeong came to terms with and accepted his failed love. From a young age, he had been groomed to inherit his family’s business, and his marriage held a significance far beyond simply building a home. Jihoon, too, had become a celebrity.

Both of them lacked the luxury of shielding even their most private romantic lives.

Even if the two of them had shared a love for the ages, they couldn’t possibly have sacrificed everything for the sake of love alone.

‘Drinking kimchi soup already. Who said they’d love me?’

Nanyeong stubbed out his cigarette and mocked himself.

Half a year ago, Nanyeong had stumbled upon a young man by chance. He somehow reminded him of Jihoon before he became a celebrity, back when he was youthful and naive. If he looked closely, the two might not have been similar at all, but from a distance, the impression and easygoing vibe they gave off felt uncannily alike.

Tall with a naturally good build, the young man had muscles that perfectly suited his elegant frame—not overly bulky, just right. His pale skin and jet-black hair further added to the resemblance with Jihoon.

The young man worked part-time at a bar near Nanyeong’s office. He learned this because he would deliberately have his driver pass by that alley on his way home every evening.

The man would always appear around 6 PM, which conveniently overlapped with Nanyeong’s commute. Even on days when he worked late, Nanyeong made sure to pass by that alley. When the young man came out to throw away the food waste, Nanyeong would stop his car, lower the window, and silently watch him.

Sometimes, he would raise his hand to cover the man’s face, trying to gauge the resemblance. It seemed both similar and dissimilar, and the more he looked, the harder it became to pin down what exactly felt the same.

“Shall we head out now?”

“…Yes, go ahead.”

Stubbed-out cigarette still in hand, Nanyeong raised the window and reclined in his seat.

He never had great ambition or a strong drive to achieve something. If he hadn’t been born into such a family, he would have likely led a modest life, content with whatever it offered. Perhaps he wouldn’t have seen liking men or dating them as an obstacle at all.

Not that it would have changed things with Jihoon.

A wry smile formed on his lips. Jihoon was unmistakably heterosexual. Even if Nanyeong had been an ordinary person, he knew they would have eventually lost touch once Jihoon became a top star.

Despite having everything, it was the unattainable that gnawed at him the most.

He didn’t particularly desire to buy someone’s affection or be loved. That was a yearning he had long since suppressed, and it didn’t feel urgent anymore.

But on the flip side, he often found himself overwhelmed by the desire to give love. The urge to express affection, to pour his heart out, would sometimes surge unexpectedly.

So occasionally, Nanyeong would indulge in a fantasy—confessing to Jihoon and watching the aftermath unfold. It was an irresponsible dream, one that would never happen in this lifetime, but even that small act of imagination brought him some solace.

Thus, for the past six months, Nanyeong’s commute always included passing by the bar. There was no particular reason—just habit.

Seeing the young man would spark various daydreams, most of them trivial and silly, like getting rejected after confessing during their youth. They were unremarkable, yet oddly comforting.

In any case, spotting the young man, who resembled a younger Jihoon, often brightened his mood. He even suspected he’d feel a tinge of regret if the man suddenly quit his part-time job one day.

Speaking to the young man was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

That day, Nanyeong came across an article about Jihoon’s scandal. It was about a rumored relationship with a co-star from his current drama. Jihoon’s agency often linked him to actresses during promotions, and Nanyeong hoped it was just another baseless rumor as he texted Jihoon.

To his surprise, Jihoon shyly admitted, “You saw it too, huh? Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”

Even though he had seen Jihoon date and break up with several people before, it still hurt.

Why? Was it because this time the actress was on a different level?

The co-star was younger than Jihoon but had built an impressive filmography and was a highly successful actress.

It probably wasn’t just that. But what stung the most was how quickly Jihoon confirmed the relationship. It was evident she was someone Jihoon truly didn’t want to lose, and that simple fact left Nanyeong feeling dejected. He hated himself for repeating this cycle, for being so used to rejection yet still letting it hurt.

That night, Nanyeong got unusually drunk. He blacked out, only to regain consciousness outside the bar. The taxi driver, impatiently demanding payment, snapped him back to reality. Fumbling, he pulled out a 50,000-won note and handed it over. The driver, clearly fed up, sped off without giving him change, leaving him alone on the icy concrete.

As he stood there unsteadily, he glanced at the bar’s neon sign. It was baffling why he had ended up there, but at least he hadn’t gone to Jihoon’s place, he thought, relieved.

He clumsily pulled out his phone and checked his call log, ensuring he hadn’t drunk-dialed anyone. There was no record of a call. Still, it was a habit born from years of worrying he might have blurted out a confession in a drunken stupor—a compulsive behavior fueled by his long, unrequited love.

Relieved that he hadn’t done anything reckless, Nanyeong stood motionless in the biting cold. His fingers were completely numb, though he didn’t notice. Occasionally, when the chill stung his skin and made his bones ache, he would place a cigarette between his lips.

How long had he been standing there? The young Jihoon walked out of the bar. It seemed like he was just finishing his shift, dressed in casual clothes. The man was wearing a black padded jacket—something Jihoon had never worn, which caught Nanyeong’s attention for no reason.

“That kind of outfit suits him too.”

At that moment, a customer who had stumbled out of the bar grabbed hold of the young man after only a few steps. It was obvious the customer was drunk, demanding the man’s number. Yet, the young man listened to the drunkard patiently and kindly, even in such freezing weather.

The most surprising part was that, in the end, he actually gave the customer his number.

Having watched everything closely, Nanyeong couldn’t help but speak as the young man walked past him.

“Do you give your number to men too?”

Eyes that seemed both like Jihoon’s and unlike his showed a flicker of surprise as they looked down at Nanyeong.