Chapter 15: A Delicate Balance

“It’s different. Earlier, you stole from me. Now, I’m sharing what’s mine.”

“…”

“Just eat.”

Hyung Joo glared at me for a while but eventually picked up his spoon. He muttered curses under his breath, pride clearly stung, but hunger won out. Soon, all three were practically filming a mukbang.

I sipped cold water to cool my head. There was another reason for this foolish act.

I wanted to keep Hyung Joo from meeting Do Yoon.

In the novel, Hyung Joo was found bloodied near Do Yoon’s apartment. What’s the chance Do Yoon, with his kind nature, would ignore that? Near zero.

So, the only option is to prevent Hyung Joo from ending up in that state. Since I have no intention of kidnapping the heroine, Do Yoon not befriending a delinquent like Hyung Joo shouldn’t derail the main romance.

They say people can’t be fixed, but he’s not fully broken yet. Stopping him here would be a win. It’s a reckless plan, but I had no other choice now that we’re tangled.

While I was lost in thought, the ravenous high schoolers had finished. I snapped back to see them awkwardly glancing at me. How’d they pull off a theft with that lack of nerve? I spoke first.

“Done? Go. No more bad stuff.”

The two accomplices exchanged looks, stood hesitantly, bowed, and left. Hyung Joo stayed, glaring with shifty eyes.

“Why buy me food?”

“I told you, a full stomach makes you happy—”

“You pity me?”

Tch. I clicked my tongue. Overthinking is a disease. I answered without smiling.

“Do you always talk this much over a free meal?”

“Think this makes you look great? Hypocrite.”

How did Bishop Myriel not smash Jean Valjean’s head? How did Jesus turn the other cheek? Clearly, I shouldn’t mimic people whose personalities don’t suit me. I wanted to deck this punk but barely restrained myself, replying naturally.

“Reminds me of my brother. You’re his age.”

That shut him up. But then he spoke again.

“How’d you know I live with my grandma?”

I flinched. I answered carelessly.

“I’m good at reading faces.”

“What bullshit.”

“Hey, watch your mouth with elders. That’s how I knew you stole my wallet.”

It was a throwaway line, but it oddly worked. For a moment, he looked at me like I was a ghost. Seizing the chance, I pressed on with conviction.

“So stop stealing and live right.”

“Old man.”

“You’ve got a face for math. Think of numbers as money.”

Loan sharking involves math, so it’s not entirely wrong.

Hyung Joo stared at me like I was absurd. Fair—I thought it was a stretch too.

I grabbed a restaurant napkin, scribbled my number, and handed it to him.

“Stealing might seem like a shortcut now, but it’ll get you stabbed later. Don’t mock honest people. If you’re ever in trouble, call me. I’ll help within my means. Like you said, I’ve got money.”

As I stood, he snapped his head up to look at me.

“Why go this far? We’re nothing to each other.”

His eyes showed confusion, distrust, and a hint of hope. I paused, then echoed what my old homeroom teacher once told me.

“Even if we’re nothing, there’s always someone who’d do this much for you. That’s the world.”

His face twisted oddly. Feeling awkward, I left. He might call, he might not. At least we didn’t part on bad terms.

Too lazy to call the driver, I took a taxi home. I wasn’t in the mood to wander anymore. In the taxi, I checked my knee—purple with bruises, blood seeping slightly.

No wonder it hurt like hell. I thought only my palms were scraped, but my foot was swollen, and my knee was wrecked.

‘Damn, should’ve sent him to juvie.’

I stopped at a pharmacy for ointment and large bandages. If this got back home, Seung Hee would mock my “frail act.” Already under scrutiny for memory loss and a cucumber allergy hospitalization, limping in with a busted knee would scream attention-seeker.

Plus, admitting I got hurt colliding with a delinquent teen was embarrassing.

As expected, the massive house was empty except for staff, who stayed downstairs unless called, so I didn’t run into anyone.

I changed into comfortable white shorts, dumped the medicine on the second-floor living room’s glass table, and propped my leg up. Even peeling off my socks stung, making my eyes water. This might need a clinic…

Then—

“You’re hurt?”

“Gah!”

A sudden voice startled me. Turning, I saw Do Yoon, back early from school, standing with a stiff face.

I thought he was a ghost. His expression was devoid of humor. Stammering, I said.

“W-Why are you here? School’s not out yet.”

“It was exam day. Why’re you hurt?”

He answered curtly and repeated his question. Embarrassed, I tried to play it off.

“Just… fell.”

“How?”

It wasn’t concern—it was a demand for a full explanation. I’d expected him to just say “Okay” and head to his room, but he stared at me and my leg. I hadn’t done anything wrong, yet I felt cornered. As I tried to lower my leg from the table, he bent down and pressed my ankle with two fingers. I winced in pain.

“Your knee’s busted, and your foot’s swollen. Traffic accident?”

I flinched. Technically, maybe. But I scoffed loudly to dismiss it.

“If it was, I’d be in the hospital!”

“Bicycle?”

“No, not that.”

“It’s not? You don’t get this without being crushed. What was it?”

This kid’s sharp. He looked ready to start a staring contest. I hesitated, then mumbled.

“…Scooter.”

Silence. Do Yoon stared, disbelief in his eyes. For a moment, I saw him think I was the world’s biggest idiot.

“You ride in a car.”

“I got out for something. I don’t always take the car.”

He took a deep breath, looked away, then asked.

“Did you get hospital fees?”

“Nah, I just got an apology and let it go.”

His eyes flashed, clearly thinking, “No way this guy’s that nice.” Seizing the chance, I waved my hand, playing up my kindness.

“It was just a kid’s mistake, what can you do?”

“You should’ve at least gone after their mom.”

I burst out laughing, tension easing.

“Why’s the mom involved? The kid was a high schooler.”

Do Yoon plopped onto the sofa across from me, locking eyes. His direct gaze was intense.

“How’d you know he’s a high schooler? He could’ve pretended to be a minor to get off easy. Did you check his ID or student card?”

“No, he was in a uniform.”

“Which school? Did you see his name tag?”

His eyes were dead serious. My spine chilled as I realized I’d said too much.

The scooter kid is Hyung Joo, Do Yoon’s future best friend. Mentioning his name now might spark Do Yoon’s interest early. I should’ve just said it was some kid. My mistake was answering reflexively.

“…Didn’t see it. He apologized, so I let him go.”

“What color was the uniform? Gray? Navy?”

He looked ready to hunt the kid down. Why’s he interrogating me? You a cop?