I barely slept after the ice cream. My chest still felt tight — not bad tight, just… strange. Like someone had cracked it open and let cold night air in.
The next evening, I thought I'd shake it off. Go back to the master's place early before he found out. Yesterday I barely survived.
Flash back
"Where the hell were you?" Hyok asked with great temper.
I tremble in every syllable. I was afraid I'd be in trouble and worse another punishment. I fear him, from the pain he put me through. "You sent me for an errand, and I…Well got stuck in lots of traffic."
"Okay I'll let it go for now but next time I won't spear you!."
End of flash back.
I Kept my head low. But then —
tap, tap, tap
I froze and trembled. I didn't want the master to touch me again,I breathed heavily like I was having a panic attack. But this all came to an end.
"Hey Dohyun, it's cold here, isn't it?"
"I looked up, saw the bright smile of Jihwa."
"Oh look, it's the shining star." I said, trying to mimic his smile.
He put a finger to his lips and motioned for me to come down.
"Come on, I found something."
"Found what?" I hissed.
"You'll see," he said, tugging me along like I didn't weigh anything.
He led me through back streets I didn't even know existed until we stopped in front of an all-night arcade glowing like a carnival. The glass doors slid open with a cheerful chime, spilling bright neon onto the pavement.
"An arcade?" I muttered, narrowing my eyes. "Is this your big plan?"
"Yup," Jihwa said, holding up two game cards like he'd just discovered buried treasure. "Have you ever been to one?"
"…No," I admitted before I could stop myself.
"Perfect," he grinned. "Tonight you're gonna beat me at something. If you can."
He dragged me to the racing machines first. He lost by a mile — and threw his hands up like he'd been robbed. Then we tried basketball hoops, claw machines, even those ridiculous dancing games. I didn't know how to laugh, not really, but something inside me cracked a little every time he groaned in fake defeat or cheered like I'd won the Olympics for hitting a single bullseye.
Halfway through, I realized something. He wasn't here for the games. He wasn't here to have fun. He was watching me — only me — like every flicker of amusement on my face was worth more than all the neon lights in the place.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked as we sat at a corner table with two paper cups of soda.
Jihwa looked at me like I'd just asked why the sun shines. "Because you never smile. And I want to see what it looks like. The real one. You said you wanted to learn how to smile, am I wrong?"
I blinked at him, throat tight. "Maybe you are wrong.."
"Then prove me wrong," he said, leaning closer, chin on his hand, smiling like it was the easiest thing in the world. "Smile brighter than me."
I looked away quickly, afraid he'd see something in my eyes. I didn't understand myself. But deep down, I knew the truth — I wasn't winning anything tonight. I'd already lost.
After the arcade, I expected Jihwa to call it a night. But apparently, I still hadn't learned — Jihwa never quits when he decides something.
"Where are we going now?" I muttered as he tugged me down another narrow street.
"You'll see." He flashed that mischievous grin, like a kid planning trouble.
We walked in silence after the bridge, Jihwa talking about everything and nothing at once. I kept my hands in my pockets, head down, pretending to listen.
I wasn't good at this — at being with people. My words always felt too small, like they'd crumble if I used them too much.
Jihwa didn't seem to care. He filled the air with his voice, light and careless, like he was afraid of quiet. Or maybe he just wanted to drown out mine.
He pointed out stupid things — the crooked sign above a bakery, the cat sleeping on a motorcycle seat, the way the moon looked like a coin someone had forgotten to spend. He kept glancing at me, looking for something I didn't know how to give.
I should've gone back to my master's home. If he found out I was wandering around again, I'd pay for it. But every time I thought about leaving, Jihwa would laugh at something small — and I stayed.
At a small roadside booth, he bought skewers of fish cake, pressing one into my hand without asking.
"Eat," he said. "You'll freeze."
I did. Not because I wanted to, but because saying no to him felt harder than saying yes.
"See?" he grinned. "Food tastes better at midnight."
I didn't answer. I just chewed, staring at the steam curling into the night. But in my head, everything was loud. Why was he doing this? Why did he care if I smiled? People didn't do things for me unless they wanted something. So what did he want?
When we passed a dark shop window, he stopped suddenly and leaned close to check our reflections.
"Look," he said, pointing at me. "You look like someone stole your soul. You gotta fix that."
I stared at the glass. My own face looked distant, hollow. He wasn't wrong.
Then, without warning, he pulled me into a cramped photo booth outside a convenience store.
"What—" I started, but he shoved coins into the slot.
"Come on, these are fun," he said. "Don't make that face."
The flash went off before I could react. First picture: me glaring, him grinning like an idiot.
"Next one, try not to look like you're at your own funeral," he teased.
Second flash: I looked startled, his arm suddenly slung around my shoulders.
Third flash: He held up two fingers behind my head, laughing. I didn't move.
Last flash: He turned toward me just as the camera went off, his face too close, his smile too bright.
When the pictures were printed, he studied them like they were art.
"Look," he said softly. "That second one. You almost smiled."
I didn't answer. I just shoved my hands deeper into my pockets so he wouldn't see them trembling.
Jihwa tucked the photo strip into his pocket like it was worth something. To him, maybe it was. To me, it felt dangerous. Proof I'd been here. Proof I'd let someone close.
We started walking again, slower this time. The streets were almost empty, only the hum of signs and the distant buzz of traffic far away. Jihwa kept talking, but softer now — about how winter air felt cleaner at night, about nothing that should matter. I let him. His voice was warm, even when I barely listened.
My chest hurts. Not in the way Hyok's blows hurt, sharp and burning. This was deeper, like something pressing down from the inside. Every time Jihwa looked at me, it got worse.
Why me? Why waste time dragging me through arcades and photo booths and freezing streets? Didn't he see I wasn't worth it?
At the crosswalk, he stopped walking. I stopped too, more out of instinct than choice. The night wind caught his blonde hair glowing like a star and for a moment, with the streetlight behind him, he really did look like that stupid name I gave him — shining star.
"You really don't smile, huh?" he said quietly. No teasing now, no jokes. Just disappointment, soft and real.
I looked down at the pavement. My throat felt tight, like I'd swallowed something sharp.
"You don't have to, you know," he added. "Not for me. But…" His voice wavered, just barely. "…I kinda wish you would. Just once. So I know you're okay."
I wanted to say I'm not okay. I wanted to say stop wasting your time. But my mouth wouldn't open. Words felt useless, too small for the weight in my chest.
So I just stood there, fists buried in my pockets, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
He took a step closer. Our shoulders brushed. "You're not alone, you know."
He meant it. I could hear it in his voice. And that scared me more than Hyok ever could. Because I knew what would happen if I let myself believe it.
I turned my head away before he could see whatever was in my eyes. If I stayed here another second, I might've actually said something. I might've actually smiled.
And smiling for real? That felt dangerous, but I wanted to smile, I really do.
I didn't know what to do and I ran as faster than the lights turned on, all the way to Hyok's place.