Chapter 7: Consistency Is the Key to a Lie

When it comes to scamming someone, the most important thing is consistency.
No matter how much nonsense a con artist spews, they have to keep their lies straight, loyal to the same brand of bullshit.
The moment they start spouting too many different kinds of nonsense, the whole lie would unravel in an instant.

Why this talk about scams?
Because after lecturing Yoo Hee-ro about the importance of a “kind heart,” Sung Ji-woo found himself doing something he’d never once done in his life — volunteer work — just to make the act believable.

Not that it was anything grand.
He went to his homeroom teacher and asked if there were any volunteer opportunities on campus.
The teacher, without hesitation, handed him a pair of tongs and a black garbage bag.

And so, Sung Ji-woo began his volunteer work — picking up trash around the schoolyard.
It was a high school, and outsiders weren’t even allowed in, so how the hell were there so many cigarette butts lying around?
As he picked them up one by one with the tongs, disgust flooded him.

“These little brats still wet behind the ears…”

How desperate were they to die early, rotting their lungs before their skulls even finished developing?
Everyone would die sooner or later anyway — so what was the rush?
Ji-woo couldn’t understand them at all.
Soda cans and snack wrappers were scattered everywhere — not even worth complaining about anymore.

“Pass! Pass!”

“Where are you kicking, idiot!”

Voices shouting over a single soccer ball echoed across the yard.
A ball rolled to a stop at Ji-woo’s feet.
He kicked it lightly twice.

“Can you kick it back, please!”

Far away, a small figure jumped and waved both arms wildly.
Ji-woo hesitated a moment, then powered up his leg muscles and kicked — thwack!
The ball shot into the air, soaring so high it briefly eclipsed the sun, before plummeting straight down in front of the waving boy.

“Whoa—!”

The sound of awe carried like an echo.
Ji-woo ignored it and went back to picking up trash, silently praying that whoever littered would rest peacefully in the afterlife.

“Seriously… people who litter should all be rounded up for a brainwash—”

“Senior!”

“Huh? I didn’t say anything just now!”

Hearing “senior,” Ji-woo naturally assumed it was Yoo Hee-ro.
He quickly forced his expression into a harmless smile and turned — only to find someone else entirely.

“…Who are you?”

A student he’d never seen before stood there, sweating buckets, his gym uniform rolled up to the elbows.
Probably one of the soccer-playing idiots from earlier.
Seeing Ji-woo’s annoyed face, the boy laughed awkwardly before asking carefully:

“Um, if you don’t mind… would you play a round of soccer with us?”

“Soccer?”

“Yes! The way you kicked earlier looked amazing. I’d really love to play on the same team!”

“…Why would I?”

The rejection came instantly, without a shred of hesitation.

“…Sorry?”

“Why the hell would I run around a scorching field in the hottest part of the day?”
Ji-woo frowned, listing his reasons one after another.

“Pointless sweating? I hate it.

If you’ve got that much energy, save it for training.
I’ve seen too many idiots go easy during drills because they got tired playing basketball or soccer during lunch.
Don’t be one of those guys. You just make life harder for your Supporters.
Damn Dealers always think buffs are free.”

“…How did you know I’m a Dealer?”

“Because obviously Supporters aren’t dumb enough to waste stamina like that.
And as you can see, I’m currently doing volunteer work out of the goodness of my heart, so don’t bother me and get lost.”

“…Uh, Senior?”

“What now, damn it…”

Ji-woo turned irritably — and froze.

“…Did I… do something wrong?”

It was Yoo Hee-ro.
Just moments ago — no, mere seconds ago — Ji-woo had been acting saintly for his sake.
And right when he thought he had a breather from pretending, this uninvited interruption happened.

Hee-ro looked confused.
Ji-woo’s sharp eyes softened instantly, his face shifting from venom to honey in the blink of an eye — like an actor changing masks in Chinese opera.
The violent look Hee-ro had glimpsed a second earlier felt like a hallucination.

“Ah, Hee-ro, there you are~”

His voice was overly sweet, painfully unnatural — the play had resumed.
Hee-ro nervously offered a cold drink can, beads of condensation glistening on the surface.

“I thought you looked tired, so I brought this… Did I interrupt you?”

Apparently, Hee-ro had seen Ji-woo doing his “volunteer” work under the blazing sun and gotten worried.
He checked Ji-woo’s face with concern — the sunlight was harsh today, almost summery despite it being spring, and not a hint of wind softened the heat.

Knowing Ji-woo’s tendency to avoid sunlight despite having a Light ability, Hee-ro couldn’t help but worry even more.
He even lowered his sleeve and gently wiped the sweat from Ji-woo’s forehead.

“Such a kind boy, thank you, Hee-ro.

I was just having a nice, friendly chat with this… delightful junior here.”

No one would have called it “friendly.”
The poor junior, who’d just been chewed out, looked at Ji-woo like he’d grown a second head.
Hee-ro flinched briefly at Ji-woo’s tone, but his face stayed composed — serene as always.

“Well, it’s hot out, so please don’t overdo it.”

“Of course, of course. How could there be such a kind and righteous kid like you in this world? Don’t you agree, my friend?”

Ji-woo slung an arm around the bewildered junior’s shoulders, laughing heartily.
The boy, cursing his quick wits, forced a laugh to match Ji-woo’s awkward tone.

“Haha, yes! Absolutely!”

“Hahaha! Hahahaha!”

After about ten seconds of that hollow laughter, Ji-woo patted the boy’s shoulder as if rewarding a good performance.
Hee-ro, however, was staring at them both — his expression subtly frozen, smile just a bit too tight.

“Well then, you should head back. Your friends are waiting, aren’t they?”

Sure enough, the kids on the field were watching like meerkats, waiting for their friend to return.
Seeing the two shoulder-to-shoulder, their eyes sparkled with ridiculous fantasies.

The junior stumbled back to his friends, dazed.

“What the— why are you back alone? Weren’t you supposed to bring Sung Ji-woo sunbae?”

“He actually talked to me. How do I look?”

“He was smiling? Damn, I’m jealous! Should’ve gone myself. Thought he was scary as hell.”

“If he’s that scary, would Hee-ro hang out with him? Honestly, I always figured those rumors were crap.”

“True that.”

Whatever his friends said, the boy stayed silent, still unnerved.
Ji-woo had been terrifying — but the look in Yoo Hee-ro’s eyes, the instant Ji-woo laughed and put an arm around him, was far worse.
Cold, sharp, and filled with killing intent.
He’d never felt such a deadly gaze in his life.

After the junior left, Ji-woo kept his polite smile fixed tight, as if welded on.

“Did you have a pleasant lunch break?”

“…Yes, Senior. What about you?”

“As you can see, I’ve spent it joyfully — in a spirit of service and devotion.”

His hands, tossing the full trash bag into the bin, were rough and quick.
He dusted his palms and grabbed the drink Hee-ro had brought.

Fsshh—click.
Gulp, gulp.

He drained it in one go, letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Ahh~ because the Earth is precious.”

With that line — straight out of a public service announcement — Ji-woo turned toward the training room.
Time for their now-familiar mentoring session.
Hee-ro followed, smiling faintly.

“Are we meditating again today?”

“Of course.”

Ever since Hee-ro had mentioned seeing his shadow move, meditation had become their daily routine.
Now both sat cross-legged on their cushions, eyes closed in calm focus.

At least, Ji-woo thought Hee-ro was meditating.
In truth, Hee-ro had never once done it properly.
But he enjoyed this time — so much that he never wanted to skip it.

Silence filled the room.

Hee-ro, as always, studied Ji-woo’s face — pale and smooth like kneaded dough, lips a soft shade of rose.
He’d observed it often enough to know the lower lip was just a little fuller than the upper one.
Short lashes curved gracefully upward, the outer corners of his eyes lifting slightly.
Every time Ji-woo blinked, a faint double eyelid appeared, then vanished again.

Beneath them, his deep brown eyes matched his black hair too perfectly.
Hee-ro found himself staring, entranced — until Ji-woo blinked once more.

“…Huh.”

Only then did Hee-ro realize — Ji-woo was looking back at him.
He’d been so focused on watching that he hadn’t noticed Ji-woo open his eyes.

“I told you to focus, not stare at my face.”

Those lips he’d been admiring moved — and Ji-woo’s voice sounded dreamlike.

“Why are you zoning out?”

Hee-ro stayed silent. Ji-woo’s tone rose slightly, teasing.

“Wait… don’t tell me you’re feeling it? Think you can do it this time?”

The shadows stretched, brushing lightly through Ji-woo’s hair — but Hee-ro only frowned softly, pretending not to notice.
He knew Ji-woo’s temper melted easily when it came to weakness.

“…No, not yet. I still don’t really get it,” he murmured.