Chapter 22: A Life’s Crossroads

However, as he approached the age when he would have to fend for himself, a stark reality hit him.

During his brief time at the orphanage, In-tae had learned one crucial lesson: the moment he became an adult, he would be solely responsible for his own life.

After intense deliberation about his future path, he found a university on Jeju Island. The department was linked to local industries, and good grades could secure him tuition and living expenses.

As a specialized field, it boasted high employment rates, and, most importantly, it was related to the family business Jung Ban-ri was set to inherit.

Though he regretted the physical distance from Jung Ban-ri, it also felt like a golden opportunity. It was a chance to finally give up on his hopeless unrequited love.

At the same time, he could still remain on the periphery of Ban-ri’s life. What their relationship needed was not friendship, but common ground and necessity.

If their paths diverged too much, Jung Ban-ri wouldn’t even consider seeing him. So, if In-tae worked in a field connected to Ban-ri’s family business, he thought, at least they would have a lifelong topic of conversation.

He immediately transferred to an arts and physical education major and began preparing for the practical exams.

His academic performance was top-tier in the arts and sports department, and his natural athleticism developed remarkably day by day with his strenuous efforts. Everything felt perfect.

That was, until he suffered an accident that shattered his ankle, just six months before the college entrance exam.

His future seemed to crumble and pour out before him. For a moment, he even thought of his mother. He felt as though he could finally understand her tranquil acceptance of death.

That was what it felt like to lose everything. So—

‘Ban-ri, what do I do now?’

Just like in the past, he clung to Ban-ri and wept.

‘Then come to the same place as me.’

Jung Ban-ri said that. In-tae hadn’t only asked about university, but Ban-ri seemed to have interpreted it that way.

Knowing it was impossible due to their significant academic difference, In-tae still agreed. With his leg and spirit completely broken, he simply wanted to continue being with Ban-ri for a few more months, as if nothing had happened.

However, Jung Ban-ri made his words a reality. Not only did he stick by In-tae’s side, tutoring him constantly, but he even found a way for In-tae to enter medical school.

It was through a special recommendation.

In-tae, despite his insufficient grades, possessed a compelling story: his mother, who had passed away after battling illness and receiving new drug treatments, her body donation, and his own transformation into a poor, diligent student with no family.

Despite a challenging life, he had outstanding grades and a glowing student record. With a recommendation letter from Ban-ri’s mother, the director of the Jeonghan Foundation, In-tae miraculously became a Korea University medical student.

Jung Ban-ri’s magic didn’t stop there.

In-tae wiggled his ankle, where a faint scar remained. He had thought he would never walk again, yet it felt perfectly normal, without any foreign sensation.

After the accident, Jung Ban-ri had taken him to the hospital. Two surgeries, performed by leading medical professionals from around the world, had fully restored his ankle.

“Honestly, meeting him was the miracle of my life.”

“Meeting who?”

“Oh, you startled me.”

Lost in thought, In-tae hadn’t even noticed Ban-ri’s presence. He turned his head to see Jung Ban-ri, looking perfectly composed, a stark contrast to his appearance that morning. He was, as expected, even wearing brand new clothes.

“I asked, who did you meet?”

“Someone. Someone beautiful only in my eyes.”

‘If I just said ‘beautiful,’ he’d think I meant him.’ As expected, Jung Ban-ri tilted his head, not understanding. That adorable gesture made In-tae internally sing a second and third verse of praise.

‘The one who looks stunning in new clothes. And even more beautiful without them… Ah, I haven’t seen that. Anyway, she’d be beautiful no matter what.’

‘Someday, someone else will see it, won’t they?’

“So, did you have a good meal with Ye-eun?”

“Yes.”

“That’s unfair. Isn’t my stomach a stomach too?”

“……”

“Would it kill you to wake me up and take me along?”

“It wasn’t food you’d like.”

“…What did you eat?”

“Brunch.”

“Ugh.”

The thought alone made his stomach churn. Drinking that much at the MT and then greasy food… Na Ye-eun probably wanted a date more than a hangover cure.

“…Yeah, I’m not craving it right now.”

“Right now?”

Jung Ban-ri seized on the word In-tae had carelessly inserted. As Ban-ri implied, it wasn’t the kind of food In-tae typically sought out. More accurately, he hadn’t had many opportunities to try it.

Still, he did wish he could go to a nice restaurant with Jung Ban-ri at least once. “Yeah. It’s not something I seek out, but I don’t dislike it. Isn’t that kind of place more about the atmosphere than the taste?”

His words tumbled out, long and rambling, fearing his true feelings might be exposed. He even—

“But didn’t you break up too quickly? Ye-eun must have been disappointed.”

He added words he didn’t mean, empathizing with the cute girl who was probably half his weight.

“No, if we just eat and then immediately part ways, it feels… cold. Lacking warmth.”

He couldn’t quite hide his embarrassed expression. Lies often show on the face more than in words. Jung Ban-ri looked straight at In-tae and approached him.

In-tae turned his head, fixing his gaze back on the desk. The tutoring materials Ban-ri had made for him lay neatly folded.

“So, why did you come?”

It was time to subtly change the subject. A large paper bag was placed before his eyes.

“What’s this?”

Inside were plastic containers. As soon as he opened a lid, a spicy aroma wafted out; it was kimchi bean sprout porridge.

“You said you were hungry.”

“I…?”

“Before you passed out.”

In-tae nodded. He dimly recalled saying something similar to end their session. Suppressing his wildly thumping heart, he replied nonchalantly.

“Thanks. I’ll eat well.”

He scooped the porridge into his mouth. He expected Ban-ri to leave now that his task was done, but he instead sat down in the adjacent chair. In-tae immediately asked,

“Want some? Should I get you a bowl?”

“No.”

He had asked just in case, but the sharp, definitive answer was as expected. Ban-ri was naturally a light eater. Unable to experience pleasure, he couldn’t enjoy gourmet food; meals were a dry routine.

He never struggled to eat because of an uncomfortable setting, nor did he crave sweet snacks after a hearty meal. Eating was simply a necessary task, nothing more, nothing less.

‘Then why?’ In-tae looked at him as if asking if he had something to say, and Jung Ban-ri slowly opened his mouth.

“Is it good?”

“Yeah. f*cking delicious.”

He must have been curious about the taste. In-tae took a large spoonful, as if to show him.

“I thought you’d like it.”

‘…This, too, was a meaningless remark.’ With his brilliant mind, he knew others’ tastes perfectly, so it was merely a comment that his prediction was correct. There was no need for a reply.

In-tae swallowed the porridge, pretending to be unbothered, though his heart was pounding furiously.

As he scraped the bottom of the bowl clean, Jung Ban-ri reached across the desk and picked up the paper In-tae had neatly folded. It was the human anatomy diagram Ban-ri had drawn himself.

“Why that?”

“You said it’d be a shame to just eat and leave.”

‘…That wasn’t what I meant by studying.’

“Then why did you fold it?”

Jung Ban-ri asked, smoothing out the paper. ‘Honestly, his keen eye.’

“Ah, well—”

Their eyes met. Those eyes seemed to pierce straight through him. ‘Should I just tell him now?’ He thought he should prepare well before speaking to his professor, but there was no need for such formality with Ban-ri.

He wouldn’t be particularly moved anyway. He would probably ask for a reason, but no matter how In-tae answered, he wouldn’t object. Though, he wouldn’t exactly cheer him on either.

“…I’m thinking of quitting my studies.”

Still, he uttered the words cautiously, all because of everything Ban-ri had done to get him into this school. The college entrance exam tutoring, the university application preparations, and the continued tutoring even in university…

Of course, for Ban-ri, these might have been meaningless favors, but for In-tae, the recipient, they were immense blessings.

“……”

As he had predicted, Ban-ri showed no reaction. Not only was there no change in his expression—no surprise, no confusion—but also—

“……”

…Such complete unresponsiveness? ‘No, shouldn’t he at least ask why?’

Even if he had no interest in In-tae, making years of effort since middle and high school go to waste—or, to use Jung Ban-ri’s phrasing, making such an inefficient choice—In-tae thought he would at least be curious about the reason.

Then, In-tae had planned to explain how hard he had worked during the last semester and how many times he had agonized over this decision.

“……”

Seeing Ban-ri just sitting there blankly instead of asking, a wave of embarrassment washed over In-tae. Of course, he had repeatedly told Ban-ri not to act in front of him, but this level of indifference was a bit… hurtful.

It wasn’t just a lack of great emotion; it was a complete absence of it.

“You don’t have to tutor me anymore.”

Ultimately, this was all In-tae could say to the monster. Instead of pouring out his life, feelings, and thoughts, he simply delivered the information Jung Ban-ri needed.

“……”

Still, there was no response. ‘Is he… zoning out with his eyes open?’ Indeed, he had been up all night and then had a meal with Ye-eun, so he must have been tired.

But even so, to be told that years of tutoring could end? This was too much.

“…Hey, Jung Ban-ri?”

In-tae waved his hand in front of Ban-ri’s eyes.

“Did you hear me?”

Only then did Ban-ri’s long eyelashes flutter.

“Yes.”

“……”

“Alright, I understand.”

The belated reply was utterly calm.

“Oh, okay.”

In-tae smiled bitterly. It felt hollow. The tutoring, which he and Jung Ban-ri had done for the longest time, something In-tae had considered theirs alone, had become nothing in an instant.

Of course, for Ban-ri, it had always been nothing… just like In-tae’s unrequited love.

“Then—”

Jung Ban-ri rose. He was the type to leave immediately once his business was done. In-tae didn’t need to see off the guy who lived next door, and he didn’t want to wallow in self-pity, so he merely nodded.

“Shall we have s*x?”

“…What?!”

“You’ve finished eating, and you said you’re not studying.”

“…Ha.”

So that’s what he meant; he must have interpreted In-tae’s comment about it being ‘cold’ to just eat and leave that way. ‘Wait, was he wondering what to do earlier too?’

In-tae pressed a hand to his forehead. ‘How exactly does he see me?’ As someone who neglects studies and is just constantly trying to get into bed with him?…

While not entirely wrong, In-tae wasn’t so foolish as to forget they had been together just a couple of hours ago.