Chapter 23: Boundless Stamina and a Fateful Encounter

“What time is it for you to be saying such things?”

“You seemed to like it more in the morning.”

That quick-witted bastard. In-tae retorted, bristling, ‘I only wanted to greet the morning with you then.’

“Fine, you’ve made your point. If we do it in the morning and again now, are we just going to spend the whole day doing that?”

“Then what were you planning to do today?”

“……”

“Do you have anything else to do?”

‘I haven’t decided yet,’ In-tae thought. ‘I was just about to start looking for something.’

He doubted Jung Ban-ri knew he hadn’t made any plans, yet he found himself speechless. As the daunting prospect of the day ahead loomed, he couldn’t even think of a clever retort to win the argument.

“Then there’s no reason not to, is there?”

‘No reason?’ His backside was sore, his stomach ached, and his humanity and dignity—things a monster like Jung Ban-ri lacked—had been compromised.

Jung Ban-ri, oblivious to all of this, didn’t wait for a reply and walked toward the bed. With long, pale fingers, he gently stroked the bare mattress where the sheets had been removed.

“…It’s clean.”

The man murmured briefly before sitting down on it.

Jung Ban-ri on his bed—this was a sight almost too beautiful to behold. And one he likely wouldn’t see often in the future.

In-tae felt his susceptible heart once again succumbing to sentimentality and grumbled, “For someone with no desires, your stamina is truly boundless.”

He ate little, slept little, so he should be the same with s*x. Clearly, the heavens had favored him excessively.

“You’re the same, In-tae.”

“I am not!”

“Not stamina, but lust.”

“……”

“Every time I see you—”

“Shut up.”

‘It wasn’t lust; it was unrequited love,’ In-tae thought. ‘Though, admittedly, he did get aroused.’

Jung Ban-ri closed his mouth like an obedient child. Instead, he tapped the mattress with a white finger resting on the bed. The gesture seemed to beckon, ‘Come here.’

“Hey, get up.”

The tapping finger froze. His expression… seemed unchanged. Even across the short distance from the desk to the bed, discerning Jung Ban-ri’s mood felt like an impossible task.

‘If the tutoring stops, we won’t be in the same room anymore,’ In-tae mused. ‘We won’t be together as often as before. Of course, it was an unrequited love that had to end eventually. But the thought of its imminent conclusion…’

“Are you really not going to?”

The man who usually complied so readily remained seated and asked once more. He truly had an uncanny knack for perfect timing.

“There are no sheets.”

“……”

“I can’t do it on that.”

In-tae rose from his seat, stripped off his clothes, and tossed them aside. He bent at the waist, placing his palms on the mattress, and said, “Be careful not to get the bed dirty.”

He overlapped his palms exactly where Jung Ban-ri had tapped.

***

When memories appear in dreams, is it because one misses that time, or because the present feels similar to it?

In-tae remembered the night he first ventured out with Jung Ban-ri as vividly as their initial meeting.

After arriving at Jung Ban-ri’s house with the butler, In-tae had felt more alone than ever before.

Even more so than after his mother passed away or during his time in the orphanage. Perhaps it was due to the unprecedented sense of hope he had harbored.

To In-tae, living with someone meant sharing a space and being in close proximity. He had imagined that even if they didn’t share a bed, he could walk a few steps, knock on a door, and see their face anytime.

However, Jung Ban-ri’s home was a palatial four-story building, and Jung Ban-ri’s family resided on the very top floor. Implicitly, no one else dared to go near that area.

Having lived in rented rooms and an orphanage, In-tae understood well that he shouldn’t disturb the master of the house carelessly.

Moreover, when he heard that Jung Ban-ri didn’t attend school, it felt like a bolt from the blue. All his hopes of commuting together, even if their schools were different, vanished into thin air.

Furthermore, encountering Jung Ban-ri within the sprawling house was like trying to catch a star in the sky.

The time when his loneliness became most acute was at night.

In-tae’s childhood home with his mother was usually plagued by noise and light pollution, always loud with the clamor of drunken revelers.

In the VIP room of Jeonghan Hospital, he could sense the nurses’ presence checking on his mother every dawn. But Jung Ban-ri’s house became a different world at night.

All the staff who had provided human presence during the day disappeared, and everything visible outside the windows was Jung Ban-ri’s property.

Since the garden, farm, and even the undeveloped mountain were all privately owned, access was strictly controlled, leaving only quiet darkness with no one wandering about. The night felt less cozy and more unsettling, sharpening his senses.

On sleepless nights, In-tae would slip out of his room. He went outside the building, not wanting to risk waking people by moving around inside. Perhaps he wanted to get used to the space, which felt alien once the sun set.

One day, while roaming the garden, he discovered a doghouse beneath a tree. Upon closer inspection, it was so large that even a child could stand upright inside—too big to be a mere doghouse.

[Lexy 3]

‘Lexy—three?’

The number three (3) referred to generations. It meant this was the third generation of dogs named ‘Lexy’ raised at Jung Ban-ri’s house, but at the time, In-tae thought it was a three-year-old puppy.

Having never owned an animal, he vaguely imagined a small, three-year-old dog. However, what emerged, poking its head out at the sound of its name, was a massive hunting dog, large enough to be mistaken for a wolf.

The hunting dog, having heard its name, wagged its tail and started to approach. But when In-tae, startled, took a couple of steps back, it settled neatly in place.

The dog was clearly well-cared for and well-trained. Its gleaming coat and dignified posture were unlike any dog In-tae had ever seen. Yet, he hesitated to reach out. Things too unfamiliar often elicited such caution.

At the same time, In-tae didn’t want to leave. Just gazing at the hunting dog somehow alleviated his loneliness, making him feel less alone.

He continued to visit for several more nights. Sometimes, he’d tuck fruit from his meals into his pocket to give to Lexy, but he never managed to place it in the dog’s mouth.

When its large snout opened, fearsome teeth were fully revealed, sending an instinctive shiver down his spine, even though he had never been bitten by a dog in his life.

Still, he kept visiting and offering food. They simply stared at each other, a significant distance separating him from this other living creature, yet he somehow felt he understood its inner world.

Lexy was always the same, but somehow, it seemed to welcome him a little more each time. Perhaps it was because he brought food, being a gluttonous dog.

It was the same that day. Lexy’s slightly droopy eyes were endearing. As they looked into each other’s eyes, Lexy’s ears suddenly twitched slightly, and it darted back into its house.

‘Lexy?’

It was then that In-tae heard someone’s footsteps.

The figure that emerged from the shadows was Jung Ban-ri. Though it was the face he yearned to see, it felt unfamiliar. Perhaps the night made not only places but also people seem alien.

“Come here.”

At a single quiet command, the large dog lowered its body completely and crawled out. Its tail disappeared between its legs, and its whole body trembled slightly. The dog was terrified.

“Oh…”

Impulsively, In-tae’s hand shot out in pity. But it only brushed lightly against its fur; he couldn’t bring himself to stroke it. Lexy, without even looking at In-tae, kept its dilated pupils fixed solely on Jung Ban-ri, cowering.

It was as In-tae’s hand hovered in the air.

“Touch it.”

Jung Ban-ri spoke in a flat voice.

“Still…”

He hesitated. ‘Does Lexy really want me to touch it right now?’

“It won’t bite.”

“……”

“I don’t forgive animals that harm people.”

Jung Ban-ri continued to list reasons why it was okay to touch Lexy. However, his perspective differed from In-tae’s, who was considering Lexy’s feelings.

“You always wanted to touch it, didn’t you?”

But the next words pierced through In-tae’s long-held feelings.

“Oh, I did want to stroke it for a long time, but…”

As if entranced, he reached out his hand. He ran it along the sleek back of the animal. It was softer than he had imagined. The skin, which had been subtly twitching, momentarily stilled. He stroked it several times, but nothing significantly changed.

After some time, Jung Ban-ri took another step closer. Then, with one hand, he placed something he was holding down in front of the dog. It was a food bowl larger than Jung Ban-ri’s head. The silver bowl shimmered distinctly in the darkness.

In-tae expected the gluttonous animal to immediately bury its nose in the bowl. However, Lexy, with its neck stretched out, only sniffed and did not eat.

‘Why?’ In-tae inadvertently peered inside and was startled. What lay within was raw meat. Though meticulously drained of blood, dark red veins remained sporadically in the chunks of raw meat.

“Hey, what is this?”

‘Animals as animals.’ This was how Jung Ban-ri’s family raised their animals. It was a saying In-tae had memorized from his first day there, but he hadn’t recalled it then. The animals in that house didn’t eat kibble. Herbivores grazed on the vast farm, and carnivores ate raw food. Now, he knew it was nutritionally better, but at the time, it felt strange and horrifying.

“…Lexy.”

“Who asked for its name? You still can’t speak properly.”

Without answering the retort, Jung Ban-ri turned his gaze to face the animal.

“Eat.”

The quietly spoken voice, and the piercing black eyes, seemed to command. Whimpering and hesitating several times, Lexy reluctantly opened its snout.

The dog, gulping down the raw meat, looked pitiful. In-tae felt he ought to comfort it and was about to reach out his hand again when Jung Ban-ri swiftly grabbed his hand.

“Don’t touch it.”

“Uh, why?”

“Not now.”

‘Why was he suddenly being so contradictory?’ In-tae thought. ‘Now seemed like the perfect time to comfort it.’ Yet, instead of retorting, In-tae looked down at his tightly held hand.

“No matter how well-trained an animal is…”

“……”

“When cornered…”

Jung Ban-ri’s cold hand had a surprisingly strong grip. For a moment, In-tae wondered if Jung Ban-ri expressed himself better through actions than through his limited words.

“It will do anything.”