UCCU | Chapter 2.3

Seonwoo’s face clouded as he remembered something unpleasant, but he quickly shook his head to clear it. But instead of going away, another memory surfaced: the text from Detective Noh last night, saying An Hyungtae had been released.

He rubbed his face roughly, about to dig up the childhood memories he’d tried so hard to bury. That’s when there was a knock, and the bedroom door swung open. Startled, Seonwoo turned to see Ihyun staring at him as he paced the room.

“Let’s eat dinner.”

Nervous, Seonwoo slowly got up and followed Ihyun. Normally, he was confident he could make conversation and lighten the mood with anyone, but in this situation, he couldn’t get a word out.

Even in his anxiety, he remembered the neat, delicious lunch and started to salivate. He scolded himself for looking forward to a meal in a situation like this, but when he saw what was on the table, his mouth fell open in surprise.

On a dazzlingly white, elegant plate, right in the center, was a single Choco Pie. Next to the plate was a tiny yogurt drink, the kind you see everywhere. Even when his bank account was empty, Seonwoo always made sure to eat properly for his health, but he’d never had such a meager dinner.

“There’s not much, but eat up.”

“…O-okay.”

Seonwoo sat down, feeling totally confused. He stared at the lone Choco Pie and yogurt bottle in front of him, his gaze trembling. Of course, he thought of that movie where the main character is locked up for 15 years and only eats fried dumplings.

‘Don’t tell me I’m going to be eating just Choco Pies and yogurt from now on…’

As he thought that, Ihyun reached out and, oddly formally, picked up a knife. Seonwoo froze, but Ihyun just pulled the plate toward himself and cut the Choco Pie in half. He ate half, drank half the yogurt, and handed the rest back.

“Enjoy.”

“…Yeah.”

Was lunch today my last real meal? Am I going to be locked in a room, watching TV and living on half a Choco Pie and yogurt every day? Seonwoo put the Choco Pie in his mouth with a trembling hand. Even that felt like it would give him indigestion. The whole time he ate, Ihyun watched him with an expectant look.

The tiny amount of food, not even enough for a kid’s snack, disappeared quickly. Seonwoo, feeling awkward, tried to speak as carefully as possible.

“Thanks for the meal.”

“…And?”

What else do you say besides “thanks for the meal”? Trying not to upset his kidnapper, Seonwoo tried to be as wise as possible.

“It’s good. It’s one of my favorite snacks…”

But apparently, he’d said the wrong thing. The expectation vanished from Ihyun’s face, and he glared at Seonwoo. Actually, with that dangerously handsome face, it was more like a death glare than a regular glare. Cold sweat broke out on Seonwoo’s back. Ihyun pressed him again, sharply.

“And?”

“Uh…”

Seonwoo had no idea what he was supposed to say, so he just kept sweating. Ihyun suddenly stood up. Seonwoo swallowed hard and tensed up. But instead of yelling or hitting him, Ihyun strode over to a nearby dresser and yanked it open. Seonwoo tensed, afraid he might pull out a knife, but what Ihyun took out was a small pill bottle. Breathing heavily, Ihyun took a pill and called for a staff member.

“Jipsa-nim, please set the table for dinner.”

“Yes, I’ll have it ready right away.”

The staff answered politely and soon set out a neat Korean meal in front of the dazed Seonwoo, just like at lunch. There was a big, perfectly grilled croaker, braised short ribs, savory namul tossed in sesame oil, beef radish soup, well-fermented kimchi, and fluffy rice—everything was perfect.

But with Ihyun sitting across from him, looking not just gloomy but downright ominous, Seonwoo could barely eat. He picked at his food, feeling the weight of Ihyun’s resentful gaze.

After the dinner that felt like it would give him indigestion, Ihyun grabbed Seonwoo’s wrist and led him back to the bedroom.

“Good night, hyung.”

His voice was more threatening than kind as he said goodnight and closed the door. Click—the sound of the lock. Seonwoo, standing still, tiptoed over and quietly tried the doorknob. It was definitely locked.

“Haa…”

He only let out a sigh after making sure there was no one outside. Thirsty, he looked around and spotted a mini fridge by the bed. He opened it, grabbed a bottle of water, and chugged it. Was this how the guy who ate only fried dumplings for 15 years felt? Sitting on the bed, he racked his brain, but nothing came to mind. Instead, real-life worries crashed over him.

“My part-time job… rent… the contest…”

Was he really going to live locked up like this, with no freedom? His chest felt like it was burning up.

Ever since leaving the orphanage, Seonwoo had only one goal: graduate with top grades, get a well-paying job, buy his own place, meet someone good, get married, and have a happy family. As an orphan with no home, parents, or siblings, it was a desperate dream.

He’d worked himself to the bone for that dream, and planned to keep doing so. Normally, he’d have a ton to do starting today: working two part-time jobs to save up, winning a contest to add a line to his resume, networking with classmates and professors. But all those careful plans were already falling apart.

“Choi Ihyun…”

He muttered the familiar yet unfamiliar name, sighing without realizing it. What kind of grudge did this guy have against him?

Seonwoo prided himself on living a decent life. He tried not to make enemies, since you never know when something will come back to bite you. He’d never talked behind anyone’s back in college, and even when he got stuck with a pain in the ass for a group project, he’d coax and manage them somehow. Even when it was annoying or didn’t suit him, he went to every department event to build connections.

So where and how did he end up tangled in a grudge with Choi Ihyun?

This was the first time he’d ever just lain around doing nothing, so his mind was full of random thoughts.

“…Might as well sleep.”

He turned off the light and tossed and turned, sighing every minute. He kept going over his ruined vacation plans and worries about the future, then suddenly remembered the weird dinner tonight. It felt like some kind of clue.

Come to think of it, Choco Pie and yogurt were snacks they often gave out at the orphanage when he was a kid.

Could Choi Ihyun be from the same orphanage? …No, that can’t be.

Seonwoo remembered every single kid he’d lived with at the orphanage. They were the closest thing he’d ever had to a family.

There was never a kid named Choi Ihyun, and if there had been, he would’ve been strikingly good-looking from the start, but he couldn’t recall any face like that.

Still, he couldn’t shake the weird, uneasy feeling. Something was right on the tip of his mind.

Choco Pie, yogurt, Choi Ihyun.

…Choi Ihyun.

‘Hyung, I’m scared… Please, let me out.’

Suddenly, a fragment of memory flashed through his mind. The sound of a pitiful, desperate cry, a young, childish voice in the darkness. Frowning and groaning, Seonwoo’s eyes flew open. A chill ran down his spine and cold sweat broke out.

“Wait, no way…”

Was that kid’s name Ihyun? He was sure it was a different name.

He reflexively tried to deny it, but Seonwoo felt a strong certainty that the child in his memory was Choi Ihyun. And if that was true, then he really had done something wrong to him. A tidal wave of old memories crashed over Seonwoo, and he let out a deep sigh.

𓂃𓍼 ོ☁

“Good morning, Ihyun…”

Seonwoo greeted Ihyun awkwardly as he opened the door. Seonwoo looked obviously tired from tossing and turning all night, and Ihyun stared at him with his usual blank face. He didn’t look like he’d slept well either, with dark circles under his eyes.

“It’s not a good morning.”

Seonwoo wasn’t surprised by the cold reply. After remembering everything yesterday, his mindset had shifted—from a clueless victim to a perpetrator facing revenge. Guilt churned deep inside him.

“Let’s eat.”

Honestly, considering what Ihyun had been through, Seonwoo felt he had no right to complain even if he was locked in a basement and fed nothing but Choco Pies and yogurt every day. But breakfast was, as always, amazing. It was a perfectly balanced meal, with carbs, protein, fat, and veggies—nothing missing.

Picking at his food, Seonwoo glanced at Ihyun. Ihyun ate with a blank face, looking so dry and cold that Seonwoo wondered if he’d ever even smiled in his life. After swallowing, Seonwoo took a sip of water.

“Hey, Ihyun.”

“Yeah.”

The answer was pretty chilly, but at least he replied, so Seonwoo pressed on.

“I remember now. When I first met you, and everything that happened after.”

He waited nervously for a reaction. Ihyun set his chopsticks down with a sharp clack. Seonwoo’s heart dropped. Ihyun took a drink of water, then replied.

“So what?”

The look he gave Seonwoo was so cold it sent chills down his spine.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry…”

A suffocating silence fell. Seonwoo waited for any kind of reaction, but Ihyun just kept his lips tightly shut. The tension was so thick it was hard to even breathe. Then Ihyun set his water glass down with a loud clack.

“That’s it.”

That’s it… Even the way he started sounded ominous.

“A few words, an apology, and that’s it?”

Ihyun spoke each word slowly, his eyes burning with resentment. Seonwoo swallowed hard without meaning to.

“You just forgot about it and moved on?”

“That’s not it…”

Seonwoo tried to defend himself, feeling a bit wronged, but Ihyun cut him off before he could say anything.

“You laughed and got along with everyone else, never even thought about me, right? Do you even have a conscience? Some people spent their whole lives suffering.”

“Of course I never forgot!”

Seonwoo finally managed to protest. It was the only time in his life he’d ever been the bad guy—he’d never forgotten. But if he hadn’t recognized Ihyun, he had a reason.

“But you changed your name.”

“I got so sick of seeing my name in the news and online, so I changed it. But I only changed one letter.”