Chapter Text
Baekjin was nervous on his first day at the new school. He didn’t know anyone in his class, and that was fine by him. He had no intention of making friends. For as long as he could remember, other children had only ever hurt him, and he didn’t know things could be any different. Everyone used each other. They were friends for convenience, helped each other for convenience, even hurt each other for convenience. That was how things worked at his old school.
Baekjin had grown used to seeing the world in shades of gray. Every day, he faced violence, lies, and indifference, so he didn’t expect anything good from this school either. He braced himself to be hurt again.
His new classmates looked cleaner than the kids from his old school. At least they all wore the same uniform — otherwise, he knew from experience, he’d have been singled out from day one. Kids always picked on those who were different, and he was different in so many ways. He was poor, weak, alone, and most of all, there was no one to protect him. Baekjin was a child no one wanted. His father had left before he was born. His mother died when he was seven, and Baekjin stayed in their old apartment with her body until his screams finally drew the neighbors’ attention. His childhood ended that day.
They sent Baekjin to Tayang Orphanage, on the northeastern edge of Yeongdeungpo District. Among the other children, he was an outcast. No one wanted to be his friend. His dark, empty face scared them at first, but soon their fear turned to hatred, and he became one more victim of the bullies. He didn’t know how to fight back. Pain ran like a red thread through his entire childhood.
The first person who ever showed him kindness was a new caretaker — Ms. Kim. She became a symbol of hope for all the abandoned children. Somehow, she found time for each of them, trying to make their lives a little better. Among themselves, the kids called her “Mom.”
Baekjin still missed his own mother too much to call another woman that, but he grew attached to Ms. Kim. With her around, the cold inside the orphanage seemed to ease. She cracked down hard on bullying, always telling the children to speak up if someone was hurting them. She couldn’t stop it entirely, but it got easier to breathe. Baekjin and the others found an anchor in her.
Ms. Kim was attentive and caring. There were no unloved children in her eyes. She noticed how badly Baekjin was struggling among the other orphans and gave him special attention. She met with each child, wanting to get to know them better.
When it was Baekjin’s turn, he sat in a chair in the small room she’d fixed up for these talks, feeling deeply uncomfortable. Talking about his feelings was as hard for him as taking off his clothes. Ms. Kim had to coax every word out of him, but she was patient. She spoke gently, smiled, and kept jotting things down. By the end, Baekjin felt like she’d scraped out his soul.
Five months later, he started fifth grade. Every year, his surroundings changed, and it stressed him out terribly. Ms. Kim understood. On the first day of school, she walked the children to the building, trying to encourage each one.
“Baekjin-ah,” she called, gently touching his shoulder. “Remember, you’re not alone. There are plenty of children here who feel the same things you do. It’s okay to be scared. That doesn’t have to mean anything bad.”
Baekjin looked up uncertainly. The caretaker smiled and patted his shoulder.
“The world isn’t all bad people. You might even find someone here who can be your friend. Just don’t shut yourself off. Try to stay open.”
Baekjin looked at the crowd of kids gathered in front of the school.
“Good luck, Baekjin-ah,” Ms. Kim said, then moved on to the other children from the orphanage.
He waited until the crowd thinned out, then walked into the building. He found his classroom, took a seat near the back, and ignored his noisy, rowdy classmates. He pulled out a notebook and a pen and waited for the first lesson.
A loud burst of laughter cut through the chatter. Baekjin’s head snapped up. He shot an annoyed glare at the boy laughing, then looked back down at his notebook. Kids like that, he’d learned, were always bullies. First they laughed with their friends, then they went after anyone who didn’t fit in. He glanced at the boy again. He didn’t look dangerous, though. Round-faced, with a wide smile, he seemed to make everyone around him happier just by being there. Even Baekjin felt it.
Their eyes met. The boy smiled even wider and waved. Baekjin looked away quickly. The word “weird” popped into his head. Weirdly happy, weirdly carefree, weirdly open. He didn’t look like a bully, but Baekjin wasn’t about to be naive. Maybe the boy thought they were the same — that was why he was being friendly.
Later, Baekjin learned that his classmate’s name was Park Humin. It seemed like he was friends with everyone — except Baekjin. But Baekjin didn’t reach out either. He threw himself into his studies, quickly becoming the top student in the class. Math came especially easily to him. Soon, the school council took notice, and he started competing in math Olympiads, winning prize after prize. Everyone in school knew him as the nerd, the kid teachers held up as an example. That was what made him a target.
The teachers were blind to the bullying. All they cared about was grades and awards. Baekjin couldn’t be the best without suffering for it. For all his brains, he was still weak. He’d gotten so used to things being better at this school that when the bullying started again, it paralyzed him. He told himself he’d known all along how this would end. Things couldn’t just be good.
They hurt him at school. They hurt him at the orphanage. Old bruises faded, new ones took their place. His body was constantly sore. He couldn’t focus on his studies anymore. He was so tired he felt like giving up.
Park Humin stayed just as cheerful as ever, blind to Baekjin’s suffering. Baekjin wondered how some people got everything while he got nothing. He hated Humin’s stupid smile, his cheerful energy — like everything was fine, like everyone was happy.
Baku, as his friends called him, didn’t run with the bullies. Baekjin had learned all their faces over the past two years, and the cheerful boy was never among them. That could only mean one thing: Humin lived in his own little world, pretending nothing was wrong. Baekjin decided he was no better than the rest. If anything, he hated Humin more than the bullies. At least they were honest. Baekjin didn’t believe anyone could be truly happy in this world — unless they were stupid or crazy. The question was, which was Park Humin? Baekjin was leaning toward stupid.
But the longer Baekjin watched Humin, the more he became convinced that he was deeply unhappy. Did his friends see it, or did they just not care? How much did it hurt to keep up the act of being cheerful all the time? And why did he do it? What was he like when he was alone?
Humin sparked something in Baekjin — a curiosity he’d never felt before. He was like a puzzle Baekjin couldn’t solve. He’d never been interested in another person until now.
One day during break, two boys in their class bumped shoulders and nearly came to blows instead of just going their separate ways. Baekjin’s eyes went to Humin. The boy’s face was tense, even though he was trying to hide it. He watched silently until the boys started swinging, then stepped between them, putting on a casual smile.
“That’s enough, you two! Fighting over something stupid like that?” He laughed lightly and turned to the rest of the class. “Nothing to see here, everyone. Break it up.”
To Baekjin’s surprise, the boys listened. They didn’t say a word, didn’t go after Humin — they just left. Something clicked in Baekjin’s head. After Ms. Kim, this was the second person he’d seen who didn’t just look away, and he was just a kid like him.
Their eyes met, and Baekjin suddenly realized he’d been staring, mouth open. He looked down at his notebook quickly, but not before he saw Humin’s bright smile soften. Baekjin was mortified.
They ran into each other again in the cafeteria. Humin was talking animatedly with his friends and didn’t notice Baekjin carrying his tray. Baekjin couldn’t get out of the way in time, and Humin bumped into him. The tray clattered to the floor, plates breaking and scattering food everywhere.
“Oh my god!” Humin cried out, throwing his hands up reflexively. His face was a mix of shock, guilt, and regret. He was looking right at Baekjin. Baekjin froze. The broken dishes were suddenly the least of his problems. Humin crouched down and started picking up the pieces. His friends snickered and walked off. Baekjin felt sick from their mocking glances. He stood there like a statue, not knowing what to do, watching Humin try in vain to fix his mistake. Humin stood up, holding the tray of broken dishes, and gave Baekjin an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
Baekjin didn’t answer. He just stood there, staring at the boy he’d been thinking about so much but had never spoken to before.
“I-It’s fine,” he managed to get out.
Suddenly he was ashamed of all the things he’d thought about Humin. It was just curiosity — there was nothing wrong with that. But Humin looked so guilty, his eyes wide and pitiful.
“I forgive you,” Baekjin said, just to say something. His lips twisted into a faint smile. Humin’s expression softened, his scared look easing.
“I made you miss your lunch. Let me make it up to you!” Humin exclaimed, as though he’d just had a brilliant idea.
He took the tray to a scowling lunch lady and came back, slinging an arm around Baekjin’s shoulders and steering him out of the cafeteria. The touch sent a strange prickle through Baekjin’s skin — uncomfortable and pleasant at once. Uncomfortable because he hated being touched; usually, it meant he was about to get hurt. Pleasant because Humin’s touch wasn’t violent at all, and his arm was wonderfully warm.
A shiver ran down Baekjin’s spine, but he didn’t show it. He tried to keep a little distance from Humin’s body to ease the discomfort, but he didn’t want to pull away completely. It was a strange feeling.
Baekjin only came back to himself when Humin led him out the school gates.
“Classes aren’t over yet!” he exclaimed, shaking Humin’s arm off his shoulders. Humin grinned and lifted his chin.
“Right. You’re Na Baekjin, the top student at Yangpyeong Middle School.”
Baekjin frowned without meaning to and stopped, looking at the other boy. Humin stopped too.
“Where are you taking me?” Baekjin finally asked.
“My place. My dad runs a diner. I don’t have any pocket money, so I usually eat there.”
“But we’re in school for six hours.”
Humin shrugged easily.
“I’m used to it. I bring something sometimes.”
Baekjin frowned and looked down. He turned toward the school.
“I don’t need you to feed me. I’m going back to class. You should too.”
He started walking without looking back. Baku ran after him.
“Hey, Jin-ah!”
Baekjin whipped around. His face was a mask of surprise.
“What did you call me?”
“Jin-ah. Short for Baekjin-ah. Is that okay?”
Humin couldn’t stay still — even when he was standing, he fidgeted. It was annoying.
“Stand still for a second.”
Baku went motionless immediately. Baekjin was taken aback. Humin was so strange.
“My name is Baekjin. Call me Baekjin.”
“Okay,” Baku said obediently. “Baekjin-ah.”
Baekjin snorted softly and turned back toward the school. Baku followed him like a stray dog that had picked its owner. Baekjin didn’t know what he was feeling — a heavy, clenching sensation in his chest, strange and bittersweet. He was aware of Baku’s presence like someone close to him. Without looking back, Baekjin went inside and returned to his classroom. For the first time, he was late for class.
“I don’t believe it!” Ms. Chan screeched. The students couldn’t stand her — she was always yelling and making a big deal out of everything. “Is something wrong, Baekjin-ah? You’re never late! As for Park Humin, I expect nothing less from him. He’s never been disciplined a day in his life!” She waved her pointer in front of Baku’s face. “One more tardy, and you’ll be expelled in disgrace! What kind of example are you setting for our top student, you good-for-nothing?”
Baekjin quietly took his seat, burning with shame. Baku shrugged off the teacher’s words like he always did. He walked past Baekjin’s desk and muttered, “Baekjin-ah, sit with me.”
“Park Humin!” Ms. Chan snapped.
Baku held up his hands in surrender.
“Got it. I’ll be quiet.”
Through his shame, Baekjin felt something flutter in his chest — a sense of belonging. With one gesture, Humin had put him in the spotlight, right beside him. Baekjin couldn’t hold back a smile. Humin was acting like they were already friends.