FL Chapter 1.2

The kitchen was bustling with activity from early morning.  

As soon as the melodic voice of the rice cooker announced, “Cooking complete,” Dongha grabbed a spatula and began stirring the freshly cooked rice. Nearby, a pot of dried pollack soup simmered, its appetizing aroma rising with the steam.  

After tightly sealing the rice cooker’s lid, Dongha cracked two eggs into a bowl and whisked them with chopsticks. He poured the beaten eggs in a thin stream into the boiling soup, tossed in a handful of chopped green onions, and turned off the heat. The soup was ready. There was no need to taste it.  

Dongha didn’t touch the food he had prepared with such care and instead began cleaning. His face only brightened when the sink and stove sparkled with cleanliness.  

He glanced at the clock: 7:15. He needed to hurry to avoid being late.  

Dongha headed to the dressing room, ruffling his still-damp hair and peeling off his casual home clothes. His habit of tidiness remained unwavering: he neatly folded his clothes before slipping into his prepared school uniform.  

His slender legs disappeared into trousers, and his lean frame was hugged by a dress shirt. Finally, he pulled on socks.  

As he left the room, he froze upon seeing Cha Juwon standing by the sink. At this hour, Juwon was usually still asleep…  

“What were you doing?”  

“Making pollack soup.”  

“Hm,” Juwon mumbled indifferently. As usual, he showed little interest in the breakfast Dongha had so meticulously prepared.  

Perhaps due to last night’s alcohol or the early morning, Juwon appeared unusually relaxed. He leaned casually against the wall, wearing only sweatpants, his tall frame exuding no trace of tension.  

Dongha, on the other hand, was the one feeling tense.  

Despite seeing this body every day, there were moments when Dongha lost his composure.  

Juwon gulped water greedily. With each swallow, his sharp Adam’s apple bobbed. Dongha’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to the lines of his body—from his sturdy neck to his muscular chest. He stared, mesmerized, but flinched at the sound of a crumpling bottle and quickly looked up.  

Having drained the bottle, Juwon wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand. His sleepy gaze fell on his son, now dressed in his school uniform.  

“What time do your classes end?”  

“…Five.”  

“That early?” Juwon tilted his head. “Don’t seniors usually have extra classes?”  

“I got in through early admission,” Dongha replied with a hint of irritation. He was used to Juwon’s inattentiveness, but he still wished Juwon would remember the basics.  

“Oh, right. Work’s been messing with my head.”  

But when Dongha saw the corners of Juwon’s lips curl upward, his annoyance melted away.  

Juwon tossed the crumpled bottle into the sink. Dongha winced, unable to tolerate the mess. He instinctively stepped forward, but Juwon blocked his path.  

Despite his lively appearance, Juwon reeked of alcohol. In a low voice, he said, “We need to head to Changjung-dong today. Chairman Cha’s calling.”  

“….”  

“I’ll send Songtae. You’ll go with him.”  

Dongha’s mind instantly conjured a familiar image. He pictured Uncle Songtae—a typical thug—waiting for him at school, and a wave of discomfort washed over him.  

“No need. I’ll go myself.”  

“You’re not listening.”  

“Don’t treat me like a kid,” Dongha shot back sharply. Of course, this didn’t faze Juwon in the slightest.  

Instead, Juwon smirked and, leaning casually against the counter, deliberately tugged down Dongha’s tie. The zip-up tie was yet another reminder of how young Dongha was.  

Due to certain circumstances, Dongha was still in high school. Naturally, his classmates didn’t know he was a year older. He didn’t like bragging about his age and preferred to quietly blend in. His youthful face, with lingering traces of baby fat and fair skin, made him seem even younger than his peers.  

“You think getting a passport makes you an adult? You’re still a kid.”  

“People my age are practically adults.”  

“Sure, sure.”  

“You had a kid by the time you were seventeen.”  

“So what?” The corners of Juwon’s lips curved into a smirk. It was a handsome, lazy smile, but it carried a clear hint of condescension. “You can’t compare yourself to me, Cha Dongha.”  

“….”  

“If you want to be an adult, grow a beard. With that peach fuzz, you’re just pretending.”  

Juwon lightly brushed his finger over Dongha’s upper lip. The skin under his thumb was smooth. The lack of facial hair, despite puberty, was one of Dongha’s biggest insecurities. As expected, his large eyes widened, and his face flushed with anger.  

Dongha swatted Juwon’s hand away. Suppressing his irritation, he grabbed his bag and blazer and turned to leave.  

“Cha Dongha, don’t forget. Tonight, we’re going to Chairman Cha’s,” Juwon called after him.  

“….”  

Dongha paused for a moment, then left without responding. The front door slammed shut, and silence settled over the house. Juwon chuckled softly. No matter how much he teased him, Dongha never got truly angry. He was far too meek.  

 ***

At the gates of the all-boys high school, the end of the school day brought a flurry of activity.  

Students in identical uniforms, with dark hair, poured out of the narrow gates like ants. Juwon, leaning against his car, watched the stream of boys.  

Tanned guys who looked alike, only knowing how to curse and thinking it made them cool.  

Korea’s future looks bleak, he thought.  

His mouth felt dry. He wanted to smoke. But he couldn’t light up in front of the school and instead fidgeted nervously with a pack of cigarettes in his hand.  

When the first wave of students thinned out, Dongha appeared in the distance. A smile spread across Juwon’s face.  

Dongha stood out among the crowd of tanned seniors.  

His neatly buttoned uniform and straight posture marked him as a model student. Plus, his skin was so fair that he seemed like a being from another planet.  

Gotta give credit where it’s due—his features are top-notch. The kid should be grateful to me for life, Juwon thought with a smirk. At that moment, Dongha, adjusting the strap of his bag, suddenly looked up and froze, staring at Juwon leaning against the car.  

Juwon beckoned him with a finger, and Dongha, reluctantly, approached and got into the car.  

Unlike the chilly street, the car’s interior was warm. And it smelled like Juwon.  

Dongha inhaled cautiously.  

“…What about Uncle Songtae?”  

“What, not happy I came to pick you up?”  

Dongha shook his head silently, buckling his seatbelt. His ears turned red. He wasn’t good at hiding his good mood.  

Juwon deftly turned the steering wheel. As he slowly pulled out of the school gates, he said without taking his eyes off the road, “The pollack soup was pretty good.”  

“….”  

“But next time, don’t do things I didn’t ask for.”  

“…Okay,” Dongha replied obediently. Though they both knew it would happen again.  

 ***

The drive to Changjung-dong took at least an hour. Seoul’s roads were congested. Despite his outwardly carefree demeanor, Juwon was a cautious driver, patiently yielding to other cars.  

Because of this, they arrived half an hour late. Dongha walked through the garden, nervously swallowing. He could already hear the booming voice of an enraged Chairman Cha.  

The mansion in Changjung-dong, which he hadn’t visited in a long time, still looked imposing. At first glance, it was clear this was the home of a wealthy family’s patriarch. The house perfectly reflected Chairman Cha’s love for ostentatious luxury.  

“Finally! You deigned to show up!” came a thunderous roar.  

“We drove.”  

“What good is your fancy foreign car? It’s no better than a cart.”  

“You wouldn’t understand, old man, since you’ve never put a drop of gas in it. Why’d you call us?” Juwon retorted sharply. He kicked off his shoes with an irritated expression. Dongha, following behind, neatly placed them against the wall next to his own sneakers.  

“Hello,” he said with a polite bow.  

“Oh, Dongha! Welcome!” Chairman Cha immediately put on a cordial tone. Juwon snorted and, grabbing Dongha’s hand, pulled him closer.  

As expected of a family that had amassed wealth through loan sharking, the mansion’s interior was lavish. Expensive vases, paintings, and other valuables were displayed everywhere.  

Chairman Cha silently led them to the dining table, which was laden with dishes. Servants bustled about, reheating cooled food.  

“Dongha, I’m thrilled you got into university through early admission. I’m proud of you!”  

“Thank you.”  

“Finally, our family will have a Seoul National University graduate!”  

It turned out the dinner was to celebrate Dongha’s acceptance.  

Chairman Cha, who only had a middle school education, had always been obsessed with prestigious institutions. Seoul National University, in particular, was his fixation, and Dongha had finally fulfilled his long-held dream.  

“Your father probably wouldn’t have bothered, so I organized this celebration.”  

“Mm,” Dongha replied softly.  

Despite their blood relation, Chairman Cha intimidated him. They met maybe once a year, and even then, Dongha always hid behind Juwon, barely speaking to his grandfather directly.  

Chairman Cha had never treated Dongha like a true grandson.  

“Don’t worry about finding a job after university. Once you graduate, I’ll hand over my business to you.”  

A Seoul National University degree really does carry weight, Dongha thought.  

Their strained relationship had transformed in an instant.  

He didn’t know how to respond and only bit his lip. Despite the abundance of delicious dishes, he couldn’t bring himself to pick up his chopsticks. He sat on edge until Juwon cut into the conversation.  

“Why would you give it to Dongha?”  

“You don’t care about it anyway. What, changed your mind?”  

“No. I don’t want it. And Dongha will inherit my company, so don’t even dream about it.”  

Juwon’s tone was icy, as if the matter wasn’t even worth discussing.  

“Then who’s going to take over my business?!”  

“Why should I care? That’s your problem. Do whatever you want, I don’t care.”  

“You really don’t care?”  

“How many times do I have to say it? Dongha’s not interested in your business either.” Juwon glanced at his son. Seeing Dongha’s tension, he flashed a predatory smile. That villainous grin only flustered Dongha more. “Let’s be logical. What’s better: a reputable company listed on the stock exchange or loan sharking with promissory notes?”  

“What’s the difference? It’s all about playing with money!”  

“Your business is tacky. Right?” Juwon turned to Dongha for support. His tone was teasing, but Dongha didn’t dare respond.  

He lowered his eyes, anxiously scanning the table.  

Fortunately, Chairman Cha wasn’t entirely stubborn. In fact, he was rather generous. He answered the question Dongha couldn’t ask.  

“Of course, for a man, nothing’s more important than style. I agree with you on that!”  

The conversation naturally shifted to Juwon’s business. While the adults talked about work, Dongha ate quietly. The table was filled with meat dishes, but he preferred the side dishes. He especially liked the stir-fried anchovies.  

Delicious, just the right amount of salt… Dad would like these… he thought.  

A half-empty plate was refilled with anchovies. Dongha looked up and saw the kind smile of a middle-aged woman. She was the housekeeper who had worked for Chairman Cha for decades. They called her Haejuteok, though Dongha wasn’t sure if that was her name or her hometown.  

Dongha smiled shyly, realizing he’d eaten too much.  

“It’s really good,” he said.  

“Eat more. Want me to pack some for you?”  

“No, I’d rather… have the recipe.”  

Dongha often discussed cooking tips with her. Over the past few years, she’d regularly sent him homemade side dishes. Of course, it was at Chairman Cha’s orders, but she cared for Dongha genuinely, pitying him.  

“Such a good, smart boy,” Haejuteok often said. Now, she brought more side dishes and pushed the untouched meat dishes toward Dongha.  

At that moment, a phone rang. Juwon pulled it from his trouser pocket. Judging by his furrowed brow, it was an important call.  

“Yes, I can talk. Go ahead.”  

He didn’t even excuse himself. With a scrape of his chair, Juwon stood, and Dongha’s eyes followed him. Juwon ruffled his hair casually.  

“Eat,” Dongha read on his lips.  

Once Juwon left, an awkward silence hung over the table. Dongha ate quietly, quickly picking at his food with chopsticks, though little rice made it to his mouth.  

“Ahem, Dongha,” Chairman Cha began, clearing his throat as if he’d been waiting for Juwon to leave. “Is Juwon still working a lot?”  

“…I think so.”  

“And still changing women like gloves?”  

It was an odd question from a grandfather. Chairman Cha had always treated Dongha like Juwon’s mere housemate. There was no trace of familial warmth or particular interest in his gaze. His cold stare was oddly reminiscent of Juwon’s.  

He didn’t seem to expect an answer. Chairman Cha filled his glass with whiskey and downed the strong liquor in two gulps.  

“Juwon’s thirty-six. It’s time he got married.”  

“….”  

“I know he won’t listen to me, so I’m asking you, Dongha. Talk to your father.”  

Dongha felt as if he’d forgotten how to speak. He could only open and close his mouth. His throat tightened, making it hard to breathe. He felt like he might vomit everything he’d eaten.  

Chairman Cha narrowed his eyes, observing Dongha’s reaction, but pretended not to notice and continued, “He needs to start a family before it’s too late. You’re grown now, you’ll be living on your own soon…”  

“….”  

“I’m asking you because Juwon at least listens to you. I’m asking as your grandfather.”  

It was the first time Chairman Cha had called himself Dongha’s grandfather. Instead of warmth, Dongha felt the heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders.  

“Dongha, you owe me for raising you,” Chairman Cha said, putting an end to the conversation. Dongha clenched his hands under the table. He was a master at controlling his emotions. Despite the nausea and cold sweat, he had to endure this ordeal.  

Juwon didn’t return during this secret exchange. Dongha declined tea and fruit and stepped outside.  

In the lavish garden, Juwon was smoking a cigarette. Seeing Dongha’s weary expression, he flashed a predatory smile.  

“What did the old man say to you?”  

“Just… told me to study hard,” Dongha replied evasively.  

Juwon stubbed out his cigarette on a flowerpot—specifically, on the pot holding Chairman Cha’s prized bonsai. The old man would’ve been horrified if he’d seen it.  

“He could’ve at least given you some pocket money before lecturing you.”  

“He did.”  

Juwon strolled over to Dongha and draped an arm around his shoulders. Pressing close, he slid his hand down Dongha’s back and gripped his slim waist tightly. Dongha flinched as soft lips brushed his ear.  

“How much did he give you? A lot?” Juwon whispered, his large hand slipping into Dongha’s trouser pocket. Dongha recoiled as Juwon’s hand grazed his thigh.  

Seeing Dongha’s reddened ears, Juwon flashed his signature villainous smile.  

 ***

On the drive home, the car was quieter than usual. Traffic slowed their progress to a crawl. Dongha lowered his window and leaned against it. In the side mirror, among the flickering lights, he saw his own somber face.  

Juwon glanced at him occasionally. He noticed Dongha had been unusually silent since meeting Chairman Cha, and it concerned him. But he didn’t show it. Dongha was a calm kid who usually sorted himself out.  

“Dad, you should get married too,” Dongha said out of nowhere. Juwon, reaching for a cigarette, scoffed derisively. He chewed on the dry filter and snapped the cigarette in half without lighting it. The urge to smoke vanished.  

“What a thought. Did Chairman Cha tell you that?”  

“….”  

“Ignore him. The old man’s always spouting nonsense. And what marriage? Who marries a guy who’s had a vasectomy?”  

“It can be reversed,” Dongha heard his own quiet voice say.  

“Look at Mr. Know-It-All…”  

Dongha straightened up and leaned his head back against the seat. The nausea had passed, but a heavy, aching feeling settled in his chest.  

“You don’t need to worry about me. After high school, I’ll live on my own,” he said softly, staring out the window.  

“Who gave you permission for that?”  

“….”  

“What’s this nonsense about living independently?” Juwon laughed.  

Stopping at a traffic light, he turned to Dongha.  

Dongha’s long, pale neck reminded him of a young deer. Juwon reached out and ruffled his hair, already tousled by the wind.  

“Don’t be stupid, Cha Dongha. Who do you think’s paying for your expenses and university?”  

“I didn’t ask for your help. I’ll manage on my own. I’m an adult now.”  

Dongha brushed away Juwon’s hand from his hair. Juwon chuckled softly and lowered the window further. Contrary to expectations, he wasn’t angry—he just started humming a tune.  

The breeze carried Juwon’s cologne to Dongha.  

There was no escape. Dongha could only turn away, wincing.  

He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, inhaling deeply, filling his lungs with his father’s scent. His palms tingled, his heart ached with pain. Why was it so hard to hide unrequited love?  

Dongha was terrified of his feelings, which grew stronger every day. He was exhausted from constantly worrying that his secret would be exposed.  

He must’ve lost his mind. No sane person could love a man, let alone their own father.  

That’s why his feelings could never be revealed. Above all, Dongha feared losing Juwon. He was certain Juwon would abandon him if he learned the truth.  

Even if the whole world points fingers at me, I just want Juwon to be on my side. Even if I’m his son, harboring filthy feelings for him, can’t he take pity on one crazy person?  

Dongha’s nose stung. He swallowed the tears welling in his throat.  

It’ll be fine. I can keep it a secret. I just need to be careful, he told himself, wiping his dry cheeks.