Eighteen’s Bed

It was a weekend just before winter break. The cold air rippled through the atmosphere, as if foreshadowing snowfall. After finishing my tutoring session, I thought about stopping by a bookstore for the evening. As I walked, I happened to notice an unfamiliar spire.

The building had clearly existed before I moved here, yet I was only just now seeing it. Drawn in as if under a spell, I approached the spire.

The cathedral, the only one of its kind in this district, stood grand and elaborate. A white plaster statue at the entrance bore the serene face of a woman. The church, built with dark brown bricks, was silent.

I carefully approached the largest building and pushed against the door, which was likely twice my height. Through the opening, I saw dozens of heads bowed neatly forward in unison.

"The Lord be with you."

"And with your spirit."

The congregation slowly moved their fingers, first touching their foreheads, then their chests, left shoulders, and right shoulders before bringing their hands together. Light filtered through the stained glass, casting an orange glow on the floor.

Among the sea of black hair, the scattered white cloths caught my eye. A grand, unidentified organ sound filled the space, its volume overwhelming. The sudden impact of the music startled me.

This wasn’t a place I belonged. And the timing—why did I have to come when it was packed with people? My face heated up, embarrassment crawling up my spine. I instinctively reached for the door, trying to slip out unnoticed. But as usual, my luck wasn’t great today.

"Damn it."

"Oh, I—I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine."

In my haste to pull the door open, I hadn't noticed the middle-aged man pushing from the other side. He lost his balance slightly, stumbling for a moment. Flustered, I instinctively grabbed his arm.

Fortunately, the man had an imposing build that didn’t suit someone of his apparent age. Through the slightly thick and luxurious fabric of his clothing, I felt the firmness of his skin. Had I not caught a glimpse of the wrinkles near his eyes, I might have assumed he was in his late thirties at most, rather than middle-aged.

"……."

The man lightly took hold of my hand, gently peeling it away. Even in that subtle motion, I could sense his strength. His notably large and powerful hands let go of mine with a motion that reminded me of the claw of a crane game at an arcade—grabbing and then tossing away.

Feeling unsettled, I rubbed my now-empty hand. When I looked up, I was met with an icy gaze.

It wasn’t exactly hatred or disgust. It was just that kind of look—like he was observing something inanimate, something neither interesting nor worth caring about.

After scanning me with that dispassionate gaze, he casually asked a question, the kind you could ask anyone.

"Are you a student here? I don’t recall seeing you before."

"Oh, I just…"

"Just?"

"I live nearby…"

"Nearby?"

The man's narrow eyes widened slightly. I forced an awkward smile.

Well, considering this area, that reaction made sense. There weren’t many residential houses—just a few scattered homes, large compared to the vastness of the neighborhood itself. From his attire and way of speaking, he seemed to be a local as well.

"Uh, you know, the house with the brown roof. In the second alley…"

"The brown-roofed house in the second alley? Don’t tell me—SE Global?"

This time, his widened eyes curved into a crescent moon shape. The cold gaze softened, and the previously indifferent look transformed into one of warm interest. The abrupt shift made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

How could someone change so quickly?

I barely nodded, worried that my voice might come out shaky.

"You're Kang's son, huh?"

"What? Oh… Yes, hello."

"Yeah. I’ve heard a lot about you in passing. They say you're a top student?"

"I just try hard enough not to fall behind."

"So, what rank are you in the school?"

Heard about me in passing? Where? From whom?

I had planned to be politely modest and move on, but the way he bluntly asked for my ranking was baffling.

As he waited for my answer, he slowly removed his black leather gloves. A simple silver ring caught my eye between his unnaturally long fingers. He draped the gloves over the pocket of his long coat, as if settling in for a full conversation.

I pressed my lips together slightly, then smiled faintly.

"First place."

The corners of his eyes lifted just before his pupils vanished behind his lids.

Why did my answer make him so happy?

He rubbed his hands together slowly, his long lips curving into a smooth arc. Even the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth seemed refined—an elegant sort of middle-aged man.

"I heard you were impressive, but damn, you really are."

"Thank you."

"So to you, being first in the school is just ‘not falling behind,’ huh?"

His words felt a little off. Was he mocking me?

But even as I lifted my head from my polite bow, the only thing I saw in his expression was warmth—an overflow of interest.

"That must mean you're more focused on your national ranking than just school rankings."

Huh? How did the conversation end up here?

"Well, your school's just a place with a good location, really. It’s full of riffraff. The real competition is with students from independent or specialized high schools."

"……Yeah."

"My son goes to your school too, actually. But he’s so bad at studying that I gave up on him a long time ago."

"……."

"If only you were my son. Smart, ambitious, good-looking…"

The man brushed his knuckles lightly against my cheek.

"I've never envied Kang so much before."

"Ah… Thank you."

"While other kids are probably grinding their asses off studying on a weekend just for a shot at first place, here you are, visiting a cathedral. Impressive."

"Oh, no. I was just passing by and decided to stop in."

At my response, the man’s smile brightened further.

"Are you interested in Catholicism?"

"What? Oh… a little."

The answer came out automatically, just as it always did.

The man seemed quite pleased with that. I could tell from the way his softened expression showed traces of satisfaction.

"I see… That’s good."

His cold hand brushed against my cheek again, this time with more care.

"I hope to see you around often."

With that, the middle-aged man gave my cheek a couple of light pats. His touch was roughened by time, the hardened skin slightly scraping against mine.

Then, he retrieved the gloves that had been hanging from his pocket.

I quickly lowered my head.

"Goodbye."

"Mm, take care."

The man simply waved his hand once, acknowledging my farewell, before slipping into the crowd. By now, he must have blended in among the sea of black-haired heads. I scratched the back of my neck. It wasn’t any particular emotion, just a vague thought that he resembled someone. That thought made me itch. I couldn’t quite recall who it was.

As I stepped out of the cathedral, I looked up at the sky. At some point, the sky had turned black, and white snow was falling thickly. Under the orange glow of the streetlights, the fluttering snowflakes stood out vividly. The nights were getting shorter. Winter had begun.

The moment I walked into the house, a sudden pop from a small firecracker startled me. The housekeeper was holding a large cake, and my mother had a firecracker in her hand, soft gray smoke drifting from it.

"Our beloved son, your father congratulates you on getting first place."

"What did I tell you? I said don’t stress yourself out too much, didn’t I? But I knew our Jun would do it."

"How did you grow up so well? We didn’t even do much for you. You’re such a good kid."

My father lightly pinched my cheek. It was the exact spot where the middle-aged man had stroked earlier. At that moment, I realized—the texture of that man’s skin had felt just like this.

My father awkwardly patted my back and guided me further inside. My mother told the housekeeper to hold the cake up higher.

"What are you waiting for, son? Blow out the candles already."

"Ah, yeah. Okay."

I hesitated before stepping forward and standing in front of the housekeeper.

Nineteen candles.

Nineteen?

At that moment, I realized that this cake wasn’t just meant to celebrate my grades.

I exhaled lightly. The flames flickered and quietly died out. As soon as the candles went out, my parents clapped their hands together. Their applause made the hallway light flicker on and off noisily.

The absurdity of it made me laugh.

"Our son, let’s eat. Dinner’s ready. Housekeeper, you made the seaweed soup, right?"

"Yes, ma’am. Should I bring it out now?"

"Quickly, please. Our son must be hungry. You made sure to prepare other side dishes too, right?"

"Of course."

Despite her hurried tone, my mother moved at an unhurried pace, carefully pulling the candles out of the cake one by one. At that rate, she wouldn’t even be able to set the cake down properly.

But I doubted she was doing it on purpose. She wasn’t that kind of person. She just wasn’t very perceptive when it came to household matters. The housekeeper knew that too, so she simply waited patiently.

Well, it couldn’t be helped. Since today was a good day, I decided to be generous.

"There’s no rush. I need to put my stuff away in my room first anyway."

"Oh? Then, dear, let’s cut the cake for dessert later. Housekeeper, please take care of that."

After setting the removed candles aside, my mother finally let the housekeeper take the cake to the kitchen. As she carried it away, she spoke with a small smile.

"You’re lucky to have such a wonderful son."

My parents seemed pleased with the compliment, smiling brightly.

During dinner, they mentioned that they would be leaving for another overseas trip tomorrow. I nodded without much reaction. Just from the seaweed soup and the nineteen candles, I had already known.

I expected it.

It happened all the time, so there was no point in being surprised. In fact, it felt stranger when they were actually home. But my nonchalant attitude must have only intensified their guilt because they spoke to me with an unusually apologetic tone.

"We really wanted to at least spend your birthday and the holidays together, but, well… you know how work is."

"Yeah. If I want to keep this company strong and eventually pass it on to you, I have to work hard."

"I don’t mind."

I scraped my rice with my spoon as I answered.

"Everything has its time. Right now, work is more important than family. You don’t have to worry about me."

"Damn, we really raised you well."

"Is there anything you want, son? Just say the word, and we’ll get it for you. Take your friends out and buy whatever you want. You still have the card we gave you, right?"

"Yeah."

Honestly, this kind of thing from them made me uncomfortable.

They never actually spent my birthday with me, yet they always acted guilty about it.

I had long since stopped expecting to spend birthdays or the holidays with them. Even as a child, I had never clung to the idea of being with them. It wasn’t like the future would suddenly change, so I figured throwing a tantrum over it would just be pathetic.

"Sure."

"Just don’t hang around with the wrong crowd, okay? Our son needs to maintain his standards."

I nodded.

And then, that middle-aged man came to mind—the one who had spoken so dismissively about his own son.

Come to think of it… Did that mean his son counted as one of those ‘low-class friends’ my parents warned me about?

Just from the way he spoke, I could picture someone like Han Junwoo.

Rich, bad at studying.

There were plenty of kids like that at our school, but my parents particularly despised Han Junwoo.

So, naturally, I decided to ask about the man who had recognized my father.

"Mother, Father. Do you know a really tall man with sharp features and white hair? He lives in this area and wears a long coat."

"Do you know how many people in this neighborhood fit that description?"

"He also goes to the cathedral."

"Cathedral?"

At that, my father suddenly looked like he had remembered something.

"Oh… That guy?"

"Who?"

My mother leaned forward, curious.

"You know, from Yeongseong Group."

"Oh! That guy? Of course, I know him."

"…Yeongseong?"

"Yeah, Yeongseong. Why do you ask?"

"…I ran into him in front of the cathedral today. He said he’d heard about me from you."

"Did I really talk that much with Chairman Go?"

"Chairman Go?"

A strange feeling settled in my gut as the pieces clicked into place.

The man’s striking appearance. His height. The Catholic faith.

I swallowed hard.

Go.

"Go Sangwook, right?"

Without thinking, I let my spoon slip from my fingers, the metal clattering against the table.

The scattered puzzle pieces aligned, revealing the original picture.

Now I understood who had surfaced in my mind when I saw that man.

Why the touch on my cheek had felt strangely familiar.

The puzzle had given me the answer.

"Is his son’s name Go Yohan?"

My parents took a moment to think before answering.

"Hmm… I’ve never really heard him talk about his kids, so I don’t know."

****

From dinner until morning, all I thought about was going to school. I could have just contacted him right away on my phone, but for some reason, I didn’t want to. There was no particular reason. I just felt like I had found something to talk about.

When I stepped out of the house in the morning, I found myself scanning the street.

Wouldn't it be funny if I ran into Go Yohan? The thought made me laugh, and I chuckled to myself for a while.

But unfortunately, I didn’t run into him on the way. As expected, Go Yohan had arrived at school first and was dozing off. Feeling unusually excited, I sat down and poked his shoulder.

"What?"

His voice, muffled by his desk, was full of irritation.

Why was he so annoyed? I pouted in dissatisfaction, but I wanted to talk to him, especially since we had made up yesterday. So I decided to let his bad mood slide. Then, as if I were boasting about some great discovery, I threw out the information I had learned the day before.

"Hey, Go Yohan. You live in my neighborhood, don’t you?"

"Huh?"

Go Yohan suddenly lifted his head.

"Your family’s really rich, huh?"

Now that he was up, I could see the lollipop in his mouth. That white stick kept catching my attention for some reason. I scratched at my chest absentmindedly.

Go Yohan rolled his eyes as if thinking for a moment, then frowned and let out a scoff.

And then, as if he couldn’t hold it in anymore, he burst into laughter.

"Haha, hahaha!"

He bent over, laughing so hard that his shoulders shook. His wide-open mouth revealed his sharp white canines. He kept laughing until tears welled up in his eyes.

"You’re just figuring that out now? Our family is filthy rich."

He wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes, his tone full of mischief.

And that’s when I realized—this bastard had kept it from me on purpose. He had deliberately stayed quiet about it.

"I was wondering when you’d notice."

"Wait… You mean you purposely didn’t tell me?"

"This isn’t me not telling you. It’s your fault for not noticing. You don’t pay attention to me."

"Well, I know now, so it’s fine, right?"

"It’s way too late."

The tiny lollipop spun inside his mouth with a soft clinking sound.

"If you had taken any longer, I wouldn’t have let it slide."

"And what exactly wouldn’t you let slide?"

"…There’s something like that."

Go Yohan winked one eye.

I shook my head.

This guy really made no sense.

I thought back to that middle-aged man from yesterday. That serious, heavy presence. Thinking that Go Yohan would grow into someone like that left me feeling… strange.

A serious Go Yohan. No matter how I pictured it, it just didn’t fit.

"I met your father yesterday."

"…My father?"

His lips froze mid-suck on the lollipop. The face that had been full of laughter just moments ago instantly lost all traces of amusement.

In that brief moment, his cold face tensed.

I hesitated, thrown off by the sudden change in atmosphere.

It was just something I had brought up as casual conversation, but seeing his reaction, it didn’t seem like something I should be mentioning lightly.

Did I mess up? I felt uneasy.

"Yeah."

"What did he say to you?"

His cool-colored eyes wavered slightly.

I caught that faint tremor immediately.

Having spent my life watching others, I was eerily good at recognizing people like me—people who had grown up constantly reading the moods of those around them.

Go Yohan was gauging his father’s reaction.

If I said the wrong thing here, it could be bad.

I thought carefully.

I had brought this up in good spirits, but now it had become a headache.

I fell into brief contemplation as I watched Go Yohan’s guarded reaction to his parents being mentioned.

I thought back to my first encounter with that middle-aged man.

The way he had looked at me at first, like he was observing something lifeless. The way his demeanor had suddenly softened the moment he realized where I lived, that I was a top student, and that I was interested in the church.

Yeah.

Go Yohan’s parents weren’t much different from mine.

The only difference was their personalities and tendencies.

As someone from the same world as him, I picked the best possible answer. One purely for Go Yohan’s sake.

"He told me to get along with you."

"…My father? Told you that?"

"Yeah."

A parent who tells their child to befriend a good student surely can’t be one who doesn’t love their child.

I was absolutely sure of that.

So, with absolute confidence, I nodded.

"He definitely said that."

At that moment, a strange glint flickered in Go Yohan’s eyes.

I wanted to take in that change for a little longer, but before I could, the classroom filled with students rushing in just before the bell.

"Everyone, take your seats. The bell’s about to ring."

Our homeroom teacher walked in right behind them.

I wasn’t able to see what kind of expression Go Yohan made in response.

But throughout the day, I kept imagining it.

When I pictured his usually sharp, thin eyes softening, even just slightly, I felt a thrill so intense that it left my head buzzing.@@novelbin@@