Chapter 11: A Savior’s Secrets

Even as Jo Gi-tae’s words carried over, Jung Ban-ri simply stared at In-tae.

In-tae felt as though his entire vision had dimmed, as if he were trapped in a tiny box, a spectacle for a monster.

He narrowed his eyes, silently conveying his thoughts to the other man. ‘What in the world are you thinking? What if you end up as a mere plaything for them?’

‘Today, this monster feels like a ticking time bomb.’

“Then, perhaps, the same kindergarten? Which one did you attend?”

Finally, the words In-tae had dreaded escaped Jo Gi-tae’s lips. He rattled off the names of renowned private kindergartens, famous both domestically and internationally.

Though unknown to the general public, the period when the nation’s wealthiest elite most densely congregate is during early childhood.

Before individual differences like academic achievement emerge and everything is determined by family background, children from prominent families attend similar institutions.

Jo Gi-tae, with his connections, would likely possess the ability to recognize who graduated from where.

The world of the privileged was indeed narrow. If there was a stage that garnered attention even within that world, it would undoubtedly be Jung Ban-ri’s life.

Yet, Jung Ban-ri’s past remained unknown to anyone, making him an inevitable subject of intense curiosity.

In-tae preempted him.

“No, we met at a hospital.”

“A hospital?”

“Yes. My mother was sick, so we were indebted to Ban-ri’s family’s hospital. Now…”

In-tae added the last words, which no one had asked for.

“She has passed away.”

A heavy topic inevitably shifts the direction of conversation. In-tae hoped that with this, people’s interest in Jung Ban-ri’s childhood would also vanish.

For a fleeting moment, he recalled his mother, whose face was now a fading memory. His mother would never have opposed her story being used in this way.

After all, it was for the sake of those who had given him life.

“Ah…”

Everyone fell silent, but Jo Gi-tae was not among them.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Gi-tae, hyung. Ban-ri’s family runs the Jeonghan Foundation, don’t they? He must have received treatment at Jeonghan Hospital.”

“No, who doesn’t know that? What I mean is, what reason would the chairman’s son have to meet a patient’s son? Especially at a hospital.”

“Do you guys just go to your parents’ hospitals and chat with patients? Even at my dad’s hospital, something like that never happens, so why would it happen at the enormous Jeonghan Hospital?”

Jo Gi-tae’s father reportedly operated a network of dermatology clinics with branches nationwide.

While it couldn’t compare to Jeonghan Hospital, the nation’s top general hospital, it was still the largest-scale hospital owned by any of their classmates’ parents, most of whom worked in the medical field.

Along with being older among his peers, Jo Gi-tae’s background was also why he spoke the loudest among his classmates.

A few classmates made uncomfortable grumbling sounds in their throats, but no one actively stopped him.

In-tae watched as Jung Ban-ri’s eyes, which had been fixed on him, slowly shifted. The pitch-black orbs, like darkness itself, turned toward Jo Gi-tae.

The light gliding over his pristine pupils took on a sharp, dangerous hue.

The moment his eyes met Jung Ban-ri’s, Jo Gi-tae offered a belated apology.

“Ah, my apologies if I asked something awkward. I was just curious.”

“I mean, if Yoon In-tae’s father turns out to be some incredibly influential person, close with Ban-ri’s family, and that’s how he was able to get into this school—”

“Hey, Gi-tae. Why are you bringing that up here?”

Song Hee-yeon cut off Jo Gi-tae’s words, as if she couldn’t bear to listen. However, Jo Gi-tae was not one to back down.

“What? Everyone was curious, weren’t they?”

A few people awkwardly cleared their throats. Perhaps Jo Gi-tae and they had been discussing similar things behind his back.

Sensing the increasingly awkward atmosphere, In-tae suddenly stood up. His abrupt action couldn’t be stopped, not even by the monster’s hand.

He met the eyes of each of his classmates, who wore expressions of surprise, embarrassment, and bewilderment, and then he grinned. He even shrugged, as if it were nothing.

“It’s alright, hyung.”

Although Jo Gi-tae had crossed a line, this situation wasn’t entirely bad. It was better to have a stage set for him to tell his own story than for them to keep prying into Jung Ban-ri’s childhood.

“My father… to be honest, I don’t even know his face. I’ve lived only with my mother since I was born; she was a single mother.”

“Just as you said, hyung, when my mother collapsed, the hospital we went to was Jeonghan Hospital’s emergency room. Frankly, the situation was very bad.”

“Both my mother’s condition and our financial situation for treatment were dire. But then…”

In-tae met the gaze of Jung Ban-ri, who was still looking at him. ‘Even then, he was so dazzlingly beautiful.’

“I met him. Ban-ri heard my circumstances and spoke to the chairman, helping my mother receive treatment.”

“So, for me, he’s sort of…”

‘Someone I can’t help but love, yet shouldn’t love, and still end up loving…?’

Instead of uttering those unspeakable words, In-tae pulled up the corners of his lips in a wry smile.

The man, who wouldn’t understand the meaning unless he died and was reborn ‘as a human,’ tilted his head.

“A savior, perhaps? Thank you. I will remain loyal. Loyalty, loyalty.”

To lighten the stiff atmosphere, In-tae exaggeratedly bowed low. Song Hee-yeon clapped her hands, as if something had just occurred to her, and chimed in.

“That’s right. I once read about it in the Jeonghan Medical Newspaper.”

“It was an article by the chairman, and it said the reason he became interested in pro bono work was because of his son.”

“I saw it too. Wasn’t it the special edition for Jeonghan Hospital’s thirtieth anniversary?”

Ye-eun also chimed in. Several others joined in.

In-tae, who knew Ban-ri’s family hospital published a medical newspaper but had never actually seen it, tilted his head and asked again.

“There was such an article?”

“Yes. It said the chairman’s son’s first request to his mother was for his friend’s mother’s surgery.”

“The chairman couldn’t forget that moment, so as a memorial, he started a program to protect the medically vulnerable… That was the gist of it, and it was really touching.”

“Was that your story?”

“I’m not sure if that was our story. Back then, rather than a friend… I just grabbed the first person I saw and poured out my heart.”

In-tae said, feeling awkward.

“Well, I doubt I’m the only one Jung Ban-ri has helped.”

Jung Ban-ri would have acted the same way in similar situations, both before and after In-tae. This was because he diligently followed the social norm of helping those in need.

“Wow. To have clung to Jung Ban-ri in such a situation. Did Yoon In-tae use up all his life’s luck right there?”

“I know, right? I think so too.”

“But isn’t that too much of a coincidence? You didn’t know he was the chairman’s son and sought him out on purpose, did you?”

Jo Gi-tae asked, his eyes full of suspicion.

“No, I didn’t. I truly didn’t know back then. I’m not that smart.”

He even waved his hands at Jo Gi-tae, who still looked doubtful. A low voice suddenly cut in.

“I was first.”

In-tae turned his head and asked, “What was?”

“I spoke to you first.”

“……”

“You didn’t seek me out; I came to you.”

‘Ah.’

The moment their eyes met, In-tae inwardly let out a brief sigh. Jung Ban-ri’s ‘mood’ had registered in his mind before his words.

‘Again, that unpleasant look.’

It was the same subtly unpleasant expression he had seen outside their dorm.

‘Was it because of the uncomfortable past story?’ No. If that were the case, he wouldn’t have even brought up his childhood. Until now, Jung Ban-ri had handled questions about his past with extreme skill.

He didn’t exactly lie, but merely offered a brief answer like ‘I was educated at home’ along with an embarrassed yet shy smile, effectively silencing any further questions.

After that, people would interpret it however they pleased: that Jung Ban-ri was a genius who received gifted education, that he was hidden away due to the risk of a successor’s kidnapping, or that his unusual appearance led to bullying in childhood, causing him to be homeschooled.

In-tae had preemptively intervened today, worried that this monster, who seemed drunk, might make a slip of the tongue.

‘Then why did he suddenly become displeased?’

As In-tae furiously racked his brain, something subtly approached his neck, as if to grab him by the nape. In-tae, feeling its presence belatedly, flinched in surprise.

“You’re warm.”

A cool hand, from the back of the hand to long fingers, and then hard nails, brushed against his neck. Jung Ban-ri was still playing the part of a kind, old friend diligently caring for a sick person. But…

“You must be so sick you can’t even remember clearly.”

Even that gentle remark sounded subtly displeased.

“Why don’t you lie down again and get some sleep?”

The hand that had been stroking his skin suddenly flipped. Jung Ban-ri pulled In-tae’s head, wrapping his hand around the back, and In-tae’s body rotated halfway towards the monster’s abdomen.

Now, In-tae was lying with his back completely to his classmates. All he could see was the hem of Jung Ban-ri’s shirt. Glistening sand was visible on it.

Since he had changed clothes after playing foot volleyball, it must have gotten on him in the shower. Probably… when they were doing *that*.

“Oh no, what’s wrong? Look at your back, aren’t you sweating? In-tae, you really need to rest.”

Ye-eun’s voice reached him, and a sharp fingertip poked his back. His shirt seemed to be damp with sweat. In-tae, recalling the events in the shower, gave a slightly exaggerated twitch.

“Exactly.”

After Ye-eun’s touch, a large hand settled on him. Jung Ban-ri began to pat his back as if putting a child to sleep. Like a skilled actor, his touch was soft and gentle.

It was so gentle that In-tae wondered if all the displeasure he had felt from Jung Ban-ri just moments ago had been a figment of his imagination.

“Ban-ri, you must have helped a lot of people since you were little.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“What? No false modesty between us.”

“It’s true. The friend in that article was In-tae.”

Listening to the conversation, In-tae glanced up. Jung Ban-ri, with his head slightly bowed, was smiling as he talked with Ye-eun. Not just Ye-eun, but no one here would think Jung Ban-ri was in a bad mood.

“Then… you only helped In-tae? Why?”

At Ye-eun’s subsequent question, In-tae momentarily stopped thinking about Jung Ban-ri’s mood and listened intently. Ye-eun’s question mirrored In-tae’s own hope.

The hope that, perhaps, he was a little special to Jung Ban-ri. Perhaps that was characteristic of someone in unrequited love.

“At that time…”

All his attention was focused on the man. It felt as if the man’s palm was tapping not his back, but his heart.

“In-tae was crying.”