Chapter 29: The Dimple

Woo-joo suddenly thrust his face right in front of Ji-tae.

Startled, Ji-tae awkwardly leaned his body back.

Maybe it was effective after all, because the moment he heard that, Won Ji-tae’s brow began to twitch.

“…You too?”

“What.”

“You also like neat people and stuff like that?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

There probably isn’t anyone in this world who likes dirty things.

As Woo-joo nodded vigorously, Ji-tae irritably ran a hand through his hair.

Then, after clearing his throat, he reluctantly stepped aside from blocking the doorway.

Looks like he does want to get married after all.

The hastily improvised plan worked better than expected.

“For now, you start with the suitcase. I’ll organize your clothes.”

“I can just take things out whenever I need them.”

Won Ji-tae kept grumbling, but he faithfully folded his large frame down to the floor and began unpacking the suitcase.

With a satisfied expression, Woo-joo first picked up the clothes scattered across the floor.

Even if they were only staying here for a month, it was such a nice house with good furniture everywhere.

Why wouldn’t he make use of it?

Woo-joo truly couldn’t understand.

At the same time, he realized once again that there wasn’t a single thing about them that matched.

Opening the spacious wardrobe, Woo-joo began organizing.

A loud clatter came from beside him, and when he turned his head—just as expected—Won Ji-tae had dropped all his belongings onto the floor while unpacking.

Haah.

Woo-joo shook his head as if he found him pathetic.

After quickly finishing the clothes, it was time to organize the items Ji-tae had spread out.

Surprisingly, he didn’t have that much stuff.

What was a little shocking, though, was that he had more skincare products than Woo-joo did.

Maybe because he was an actor, he must take good care of his skin.

As Woo-joo casually arranged the items into the drawers attached to the table, he felt a gaze on him.

“What.”

When he turned, Won Ji-tae was sitting cross-legged, chin resting on his hand, staring at Woo-joo.

And he didn’t look pleased.

“About what you said earlier.”

“What about it?”

“The marriage thing.”

“Yeah, what about it.”

“So you’re planning to get married someday?”

Woo-joo shot him a look that said, I’m busy as hell, why are you asking that.

Ji-tae flinched slightly at his glare and his shoulders twitched.

“If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

If there’s someone, then I will, Woo-joo added casually.

Ji-tae could only stare silently at Woo-joo’s profile as he focused on tidying up.

“Hey, what’s that next to your leg?”

Nearly finished organizing, Woo-joo pointed beside Ji-tae.

There was something square lying face down.

It must’ve fallen there when Ji-tae dropped his things earlier.

Woo-joo slowly reached out and picked it up.

“This is……”

Looking closely, it was a picture frame.

An old wooden frame, and inside it was none other than Won Ji-tae—more precisely, a much younger Won Ji-tae.

“Is this you?”

“Who else would it be.”

“Wow, how old were you?”

“Elementary school graduation, I think.”

In the photo, young Ji-tae stared straight at the camera with an oddly indifferent, almost weary expression that didn’t suit his age.

He was wearing what looked like an expensive school uniform, probably from a private elementary school.

And beside him stood a very beautiful woman.

“Your mom?”

Ji-tae nodded.

It was obvious.

She looked almost identical to him.

Snow-white skin.

Slightly upturned large eyes.

And even the small dimple that formed on the left side when she smiled.

They were alike in every way.

No matter how you looked at it—forward flip or back flip—she was unmistakably his blood relative.

“She’s incredibly pretty.”

Woo-joo had first gotten to know Won Ji-tae in middle school.

So he didn’t know anything about Ji-tae before that.

That’s why this unexpected relic-like photo excited him a little.

“You were cute back then. Why are you like this now…….”

Woo-joo turned his body to face Ji-tae.

Holding up the frame, he aligned it level with Ji-tae’s current face.

On the left was elementary school Won Ji-tae.

On the right was present-day Won Ji-tae.

“What do you mean, now. I’m way more handsome now.”

“You’re really saying that yourself?”

Woo-joo burst into laughter.

It was true that Ji-tae had changed since he was young.

At least back when they first met in middle school, his eyes had sparkled.

Even when he smiled faintly, there had been something—pure anticipation and joy unique to that age.

Maybe people called that innocence.

But the kid in this photo, and the Ji-tae standing before him now, weren’t quite like that.

“Still, there’s one thing that’s the same.”

“What.”

Woo-joo curved his lips slightly.

He slowly extended his right index finger.

Ji-tae blinked lazily.

Woo-joo’s finger headed toward Ji-tae’s face—more precisely, the faint dimple on his left cheek.

“This.”

In Ji-tae’s vision, Woo-joo’s smiling face seemed to pass in slow motion.

The softly curved lips were beautiful.

The spot where Woo-joo’s finger touched burned as if it might catch fire.

It felt like time in the room had slowed down.

“Hey, why are you spacing out like—”

Just as Woo-joo tilted his head, Ji-tae suddenly slapped his hand away and sprang to his feet.

“Hey.”

A heavy voice dropped down from above.

Woo-joo stared blankly at his hand still lingering in midair before looking up.

“Don’t touch me so carelessly.”

Ji-tae turned his head away, even biting down on his lip.

He looked like he was barely holding something back.

Maybe angry.

It felt like déjà vu from last time.

When they were gardening and Ji-tae had suddenly crouched down, Woo-joo had worried he was hurt—and he had reacted similarly then too.

Leaving only those words behind, Ji-tae strode out of the room.

“……”

Woo-joo kept staring at the hand Ji-tae had knocked away.

Right.

Some people might not like being touched casually.

There are all kinds of people in the world.

If someone’s sensitive, even small contact without permission could bother them.

So he understood.

Logically, he understood Ji-tae’s reaction.

But still….

“…What a rude bastard.”

Woo-joo muttered while glaring at the spot where Ji-tae had left.

Strangely, the room felt empty after he was gone.

If he had to describe the Won Ji-tae Kang Woo-joo knew, he was simple.

First of all, the guy was good at sports and tall.

In middle school, he had been overwhelmingly taller than his peers.

Same in high school.

When he walked around in casual clothes, people mistook him for an adult.

At one point, Woo-joo had envied that height and teased him daily, asking if he was a giraffe—only to lose every time.

As for his personality, simply put, he was a competitive, mischievous jerk.

He always walked around with a sly grin, picking pointless fights.

He even responded rudely to students who liked him.

And yet, maybe because his face was decent enough and he was good at sports, he was popular.

There were always people around him.

That was the Won Ji-tae Woo-joo knew.

Back then, he had never deviated from that pattern even once.

So if someone asked, “Are you close with Won Ji-tae?” he’d answer, “No.”

But if they asked, “Do you know him well?” he could at least say, “Yeah.”

But the Won Ji-tae he met again after nearly seven years was… different.

“Hey, are you planning to burn all the food?”

“…I did that on purpose.”

“Yeah, sure you did.”

First of all, Won Ji-tae couldn’t cook.

And not just a little—he was terrible.

He looked like the type who could open a cooking class and charm all the students, but his actual cooking skills were hopeless.

“It’s all stuck to the pan.”

When Woo-joo glared at him, Ji-tae—now used to it—avoided his gaze.

As the one in charge of meals, Ji-tae had confidently declared he’d make pasta.

Exactly thirty minutes later, he had managed to stick all the sauce to the pan.

When he had said he couldn’t cook, Woo-joo had assumed it was modesty.

Now he realized how naïve that thought had been.

“I should’ve known when you said you’d show me authentic flavor.”

“When did I ever say it like that?”

“You want me to check the footage?”

“……”

Now he’s even playing dumb.

If only he could at least talk properly.

In the end, Woo-joo cleaned up everything.

Lunch that day ended up being instant ramen.

And that wasn’t the end of discovering Ji-tae’s other sides.

“Oh, hey, isn’t this that movie from last year? The one everyone said was insanely scary?”

It was a slightly late evening.

Woo-joo was eating fruit and casually flipping through TV channels when a familiar title appeared.

It was a foreign horror movie released last summer, notorious for making audience members run out crying.

“…Yeah. I think so.”

Ji-tae naturally stole a slice of Woo-joo’s apple.

Woo-joo shot him a glare before setting the remote down.

Then he felt Ji-tae staring at him.

“What. Why.”