I have an accomplice with whom I share secrets.
Teenagers on the verge of adulthood often wonder what kind of life awaits them once they come of age. What kind of future had I envisioned for myself? Who knows. Probably just an older version of Kang Jun. That in itself wouldn’t have been a bad life. But from time to time, I was tormented by a small, lonely craving, and I cried over it. Of course, I did it in secret—I hated showing my weaknesses to others.
They say God only gives trials that one can endure.
I had heard that somewhere before. But who had said it? I couldn’t remember. Maybe it was something from a TV show. Or a movie.
Then why had God given me the trial of loving men? What was I supposed to gain from this?
But dwelling on such questions was pointless—and dangerous. If I let myself sink too deep into those thoughts, the overwhelming tide of resentment might one day swallow me whole and strangle me.
Only today did I finally find the thread of an answer. A very arrogant one.
Maybe I was born with the trial of loving men so that I could witness Yohan’s misery.
From a materialistic point of view, Yohan was a blessed existence. Handsome, tall, relatively smart, and born into a wealthy family. Being blessed meant being under God’s favor, didn’t it? That was how people usually thought.
During lunch, the rosary on Yohan’s wrist clinked as he scooped soup into his tray.
For a brief moment, I felt a pang of guilt.
I imagined how my parents would react if they ever found out about my abnormality. They had never truly been angry at me before. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t picture them looking away in disgust. If they did find out, I doubted they would react like Yohan’s parents. They wouldn’t lash out at me.
If that were the case, then maybe I had been born luckier than Yohan.
I thought again of the rosary rattling under his wrist.
It looked just like a pair of handcuffs.
"Ah—fuck. This just killed my appetite."
Yohan scowled and smacked his spoon against his tray.
I slowly turned my head to see what had caught his attention.
Park Dongcheol, Kim Minho, Lee Seokhyeon, and Kim Seokmin were staring in our direction.
Dongcheol hovered at the edges of the group, subtly gauging the mood. Minho deliberately avoided looking at Yohan. But even then, it was obvious that all their attention was directed toward him. It was kind of pathetic.
Meanwhile, Seokmin waved enthusiastically, and Seokhyeon gave a small, quiet smile in Yohan’s direction.
"Do those idiots have no sense?"
Yohan flipped them off and turned away, ignoring their greeting.
To a casual observer, it might have looked playful, but I had watched Yohan long enough to know—he was completely serious. He genuinely looked pissed.
Seokmin, however, took it as a joke and mirrored the gesture.
Yohan let out a low chuckle, mocking him under his breath.
"He actually thinks I acknowledged him. What a dumbass."
I let out a quiet, amused breath.
The scene triggered a memory—the conversation between Seokhyeon and Minho in the bathroom.
What was it again? Oh, right—‘Kang Jun already knows but refuses to leave.’
Back then, the ones who should have been paying attention were them.
"...Ha."
They had acted like they had me all figured out, as if I were just some extension of Yohan.
But in reality, they were the ones desperately clinging to a lifeline.
I sneered at their pitiful display.
In the end, the person Yohan chose was me.
The thought made my shoulders unconsciously rise with pride.
Those guys? They had only survived because they had loud voices in class and happened to end up in the same homeroom as Yohan for another year.
They weren’t like me—someone who had actually worked to get where I was.
My arrogance swelled higher and higher—until suddenly, it struck me.
Wasn’t this exactly how a concubine chosen by an emperor would feel?
The realization made me recoil from my own amusement.
But I didn’t have much time to dwell on it.
The four of them had scraped the leftovers off their trays and were now heading straight toward us.
"Yo, Yohan."
They casually nudged aside the students sitting next to us, making room for themselves.
Seokmin took the lead, acting overly friendly.
"Come on, man. Isn’t this too much? You stopped talking to us the moment we ended up in different classes. We’re seriously hurt, dude."
"Wow. That’s so true."
Yohan’s response was utterly uninterested.
Silence stretched between them. They clearly hadn’t expected this reaction.
Dongcheol forced out an awkward smile, glancing around nervously. Minho’s expression twisted as he tried to fake a grin.
Surprisingly, it was Minho who spoke up first.
"Hey, did you bribe someone or something? What, are you in some kind of elite class now?"
"Yeah, for real. We were just talking about it—how the hell did you end up in Class 1? That class is filled with nothing but straight-A students. And then there’s you? Feels kinda suspicious, doesn’t it? Your family’s loaded, after all."
Seokmin laughed loudly, overcompensating.
He probably felt the tension and was trying to dispel it.
He had always been the type to liven up a conversation, to smooth over awkwardness. That was probably why he even tolerated someone like Dongcheol, even though he didn’t like him much.
In a way, he had a soft heart.
"Seriously, though. Did you bribe your way in?"
"......."
"Come on, say something. Do you like being in Class 1? How’d you even get in? Did you get the test answers from Kang Jun? Fuck, this bastard probably studied in secret without telling us."
Yohan smirked lazily but didn’t answer. Instead, he scooped up some soup and took a slow bite.
I could tell.
He was pissed.
At least, that’s how it looked to me.
"......."
I stared down at the cheap side dishes on my tray, suddenly losing my appetite.
I thought about asking, How’s your new class? Didn’t your group get split up too?
But I held my tongue.
A classroom held thirty students.
Among them, there were always a few pacifists—people who couldn’t handle the tense silence of a social standoff.
Most of them scraped by with a bland reputation.
A good kid. A decent person.
Not a bad impression, but nothing exceptional, either.
"Hey, Yohan’s not denying it. Guess it’s true, then."
Sometimes, the ones who ruined the mood ended up with better reputations.
That was just how human relationships worked.
I knew that if I tried to change the subject now, I’d only end up looking like a peacekeeper.
So I kept my mouth shut.
"Shit, you’re serious? No way."
Hierarchy was being established.
The moment where people subtly pushed and tested each other, figuring out their ranks.
Something pressed against my leg.
"......."
Across from me, Yohan was lazily resting his chin on his hand, chewing his food.
I shifted my leg slightly, thinking I had imagined it.
No.
The sensation followed me.
The deliberate pressure started at my ankle and slowly traced up my calf.
My face grew hot.
I glanced up in panic.
There was Yohan, casually drinking water, looking completely normal.
What the hell are you doing?
I turned my gaze toward the four idiots staring at Yohan.
I couldn’t exactly ask him right now if he was doing this on purpose.
But he was.
This wasn’t an accident.
A dull ache curled in my stomach.
I forcefully shoved my leg forward.
Thud.
Bone collided with bone.
"Ah, fuck!"
Yohan yelped, clutching his leg.
Everyone’s attention snapped to him.
"What the hell? Yohan, what’s wrong? Did you hit something?"
Seokmin reached out, patting Yohan’s back in concern. His eyes dropped to Yohan’s foot, which was still trapped in his grasp as he groaned in pain.
But Yohan calmly pushed Seokmin’s hand away, straightened up, and rubbed his shoulder as if shaking off an afterthought. Then, as if he didn’t even need to think about it, he casually spoke.
"Jun, why’d you kick my leg?"
That bastard. He was pulling this shit again.
For a moment, I lost my words, caught off guard.
He had said it on purpose, loud enough for everyone to hear.
He knew damn well I couldn’t just ignore it. He knew I cared too much about how people saw me.
What a conniving little shit.
"......You should listen when people are talking to you. It’s rude to ignore them."
"This is killing me."
Yohan, who had been chewing his lips in silence, cleared his throat and then—suddenly, as if nothing had happened—spoke in an overly cheerful tone.
"Yeah, seems like my dad threw a bunch of money at the school to help out this piece of shit, huh?"
The tense atmosphere that had been pressing down on the group immediately cracked open.
The four of them, who had been hesitating and watching for a reaction, suddenly let out relieved chuckles. The air felt lighter in an instant.
But the sharp edge in Yohan’s voice wasn’t remotely welcoming.
“Hey. What the... Hey, Go Yohan. What the hell are you saying? Are you picking a fight with us right now?”
“Who started it first?”
In the end, Kim Seokmin, unable to hold back any longer, threw out sharp words. Go Yohan didn't even glance at him and instead gave a twisted smile. Observing the situation with a contorted face, Kim Minho suddenly cut in.
“Seokmin, did you seriously just now realize that Go Yohan is a fucking piece of shit? That bastard’s always been a complete asshole.”
“Hey! What the fuck, man? We're fucking friends!”
“I used to think so too, dumbass. Hey, do you not remember how that bastard kept calling us trash all the time? Dipshit. Don’t you get it? That wasn’t a joke—he actually meant it. That fucker looks down on us like we’re fucking idiots. Trust me on this, you fucking bastard.”
“And who the fuck are you to tell me to trust your words? You a politician or something?”
Even in this situation, Go Yohan chuckled to himself. Lee Seokhyeon silently shifted his gaze between Go Yohan and Kim Minho, while Park Dongcheol bit his lips nervously, unable to stay still. Even the surrounding students' attention was now focused on them. Damn it. In the end, I had to step in.
“Hey. Stop fighting.”
“The fuck? Who the hell is Kang Jun to butt in?”
“Minho, just drop it.”
“What?”
“Everyone’s staring.”
Do you guys have no eyes or sense? I sent a silent warning. Kim Minho clenched his teeth as he glared at me.
“If you're pissed off, settle it with words. This isn't helping anyone.”
“The fuck? What is this asshole even saying? Acting like a fucking hall monitor. Pissing me off. Ah, fuck!”
Before I could even finish, Kim Minho shouted, and just like that, hundreds of eyes in the cafeteria turned toward us. I cursed under my breath and lowered my head. Fucking embarrassing.
In the meantime, Go Yohan picked up his tray and slowly stood up. Even as he did, his expression remained distinctly provocative, his gloomy and cold face twisting as he taunted them.
“Why are you suddenly squealing like a pig getting slaughtered? Your voice is annoying, so can you shut the fuck up?”
Then, he slightly tilted his head and said,
“Jun, if you're done eating, get up. Let’s go.”
“Oh, uh.”
I had already been preparing to leave without needing to be told. Staying here any longer wouldn’t do me any good. In fact, I was grateful that Go Yohan had created an excuse for me to leave.
Kim Minho, struck silent by the blatant disregard, could only open and close his mouth like a fish before abruptly standing up and yelling again.
“You fuckers, are you ignoring me right now?”
Ah. This is humiliating. I felt the growing weight of the stares and turned my head away. I didn’t want to be here. Go Yohan exhaled roughly on purpose, looking Kim Minho up and down with an expression of sheer disappointment. And then I saw it—Go Yohan’s wickedness.
He was definitely his father’s son.
His narrow eyes swept over the four of them, a snake-like grin creeping onto his face.
“Lee Seokhyeon. Kim Seokmin.”
“.......”
He called out the two guys he had just blatantly ignored, his voice strangely warm.
“Wanna come with us?”
“......Huh?”
“To the snack shop. You coming or not?”
Kim Seokmin and Lee Seokhyeon exchanged glances, looked at the fuming Kim Minho, then finally turned toward me and Go Yohan. Tension tangled between the four of them.
Go Yohan had thrown a stone into the water, and the fish that reacted first was Lee Seokhyeon.
“Oh? Uh, yeah. I’ll go.”
Lee Seokhyeon immediately got up from his seat without hesitation. He walked toward us without looking back, casually waving a hand at Kim Minho as if trying to calm him down.
Kim Minho’s face twisted, but Lee Seokhyeon only looked mildly awkward—he didn’t seem to have any intention of changing his decision.
“Hey. Lee Seokhyeon. Where the hell are you going?”
“Minho, I’ll call you later, alright? I’ll call.”
“You fucking bastard! Where the fuck do you think you’re going? You know they’re just gonna throw you away, right?”
“Ah, we need to smooth things over, you know? I’ll talk to Yohan, alright?”
Lee Seokhyeon sent some kind of subtle signal to Kim Minho, one only they could understand. At that, Kim Minho, who had been practically growling, abruptly stopped moving and slumped back into his chair.
Even so, he didn’t stop swearing under his breath—“fucking bastard,” “piece of shit,” and every other insult he could think of.
Kim Seokmin, who had been hesitating, looked back and forth between Minho and us. Eventually, when we took a step, he quickly patted Minho’s shoulder and said,
“Alright, Minho, I’ll see you during break.”
“Hey! You—!”
Minho let out a sharp yell, as if he hadn’t actually expected them to leave. But honestly? Out of everyone here, I felt the worst for Park Dongcheol, who hadn’t been mentioned once.
Park Dongcheol was the only one left sitting beside Kim Minho, watching us with something that looked a lot like envy.
“.......”
As soon as Kim Minho was out of sight, Kim Seokmin’s mood visibly brightened. It was like he had the memory of a goddamn goldfish—out of sight, out of mind. He began glancing at Go Yohan with a playful smirk.
“Hey, you really shouldn’t have said that earlier. Shit, I was actually kinda hurt.”
“Oh.”
Go Yohan slung an arm around Kim Seokmin’s neck. It might have looked like a casual gesture, but I knew—it was the classic move of someone subtly overpowering another with sheer force.
Go Yohan was textbook in every way.
As always, Lee Seokhyeon smoothly inserted himself between them, cracking jokes that never quite crossed the line into being outright offensive.
And just like that, with a single act of manipulation, Go Yohan had planted distrust among four so-called “friends.”
What Kim Seokmin and Lee Seokhyeon would say once they went back didn’t matter to us.
In the end, the ones left behind to talk shit about us were none other than Kim Minho and Park Dongcheol.
There was no comedy greater than this.
Kim Minho and Park Dongcheol, suddenly bound together by their flimsy excuse for friendship?
Where else would you find a combination this ironic?
Go Yohan was truly a menace.
Instead of just picking one, he took two with him—how utterly devious.
A single person might hesitate to break away, fearing isolation. But with two, the situation changes.
That’s why Lee Seokhyeon was able to get up so quickly.
That’s why Kim Seokmin followed without a second thought.
Two people in the same predicament strengthen their bond.
Two people become partners—partners in crime.
Just like me and Go Yohan.
****
When we arrived at the snack shop, Kim Seokmin and Lee Seokhyeon were too busy snatching snacks from each other to notice anything else. Meanwhile, Go Yohan quietly slipped beside me. In his hand was a chocolate-filled pastry. His long, slender fingers slowly peeled off the wrapper. As the transparent packaging was removed, his gaze—strangely laden with something almost carnal—fixed on me. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me, but I felt as if my shirt was being stripped away. Instinctively, I clutched my collar.
The source of this c𝐨ntent is freёwebnovel.com.
His fingers dug into the wrapper, pressing against the soft surface of the bread. Even as he did, his gaze never left me. My eyes drifted down to the slightly raised wooden floor.
Ever since I caught onto his emotions, Go Yohan had changed—into something strange.
As the vertical tear in the packaging widened, the dark pastry inside was revealed. Slowly, Go Yohan lifted the bread toward my lips. I decided to ignore his pitiful attempt at temptation. To keep things from looking weird to the others, I flashed a casual smile and grasped the half of the bread he wasn’t holding. A line appeared between Go Yohan’s brows. He didn’t seem pleased. I smirked and tore the bread in half.
A stream of melted chocolate oozed from the split, trickling down his fingers. I popped the half that had landed in my palm into my mouth, then leaned back slightly, flashing Go Yohan a wider grin.
“Tastes good.”
Go Yohan stared blankly at the chocolate dripping down. It slid along his forearm, soaking into his shirt. His gaze, however, traveled in the opposite direction—chocolate, arm, hand, pastry, then back to me.
He reached out again, this time pressing the soft bread against my lips.
Ugh.
Chocolate squeezed between the cracks and seeped into my mouth. I frowned, licking away the chocolate that smeared at the corner of my lips.
“I’m full.”
That was my way of telling him to stop. But Go Yohan only looked disappointed.
“I was trying to feed you.”
“Are you an idiot?”
Go Yohan had no sense of caution. It was a trait born from his inherent dislike for bothersome things. He often acted without thinking too deeply.
“That’s why you got caught. You should’ve been more careful.”
“Oh, like you?”
Didn’t he fear getting caught? His blatant shamelessness made me break into a cold sweat.
As I glared, the mashed bread that had touched my lips found its way into Go Yohan’s mouth. He grinned, his lips now smudged with chocolate, as if mocking the lie I told last night.
I had expected this ever since he started repeating my words as his own excuse. But hearing confirmation that he didn’t believe me still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I lightly tapped his shin with my foot and muttered,
“Shut up.”
But Go Yohan didn’t seem even remotely affected. He merely glanced at the spot where I had kicked him. That was it.
A bit humiliating.
Why the hell is he so damn big and sturdy?
I pouted, pushing out my lower lip.
“I hit you lightly on purpose.”
“Oh, really?”
Then, as if he’d thought of something amusing, Go Yohan raised an eyebrow. Without warning, he bent down.
I was caught off guard by his sudden movement. My instincts kicked in, and I immediately shut my mouth, watching him carefully.
Go Yohan flashed his sharp canines as he grinned, then clutched the spot where I had kicked him.
“Ow.”
“What?”
“Jun, it really hurts.”
His cold eyes drooped, his expression exaggeratedly pitiful. The lie was plain as day.
Cunning bastard.
I reached down and ruffled his bangs, covering his eyes.
“Stop lying and get up.”
“Wow. You hit me and now you’re acting shameless.”
No trace of playfulness remained. Now he was outright acting. But if he was going to commit this much, I had nothing to say.
I crossed my arms and asked,
“So? What do you want me to do about it?”
“Wipe it off.”
Go Yohan stretched out his hand toward me, spreading his five fingers like a blooming flower.
I caught the faint scent of something sweet from his hand.
His shirt was already a mess, smeared with chocolate. It was a result of his own careless actions.
Who the hell waves around a hand covered in dripping chocolate like that?
I internally blamed him. His shirt was probably ruined beyond saving.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It looks weird. People will think it’s weird.”
“No one will think anything.”
Go Yohan frowned.
“You think wiping chocolate off a friend’s shirt looks weird?”
So he was talking as if it was already a given that I should do it.
As I listened to his usual leaps in logic, a question suddenly popped into my mind.
I had thought this was strange for a long time.
I had always wanted to ask.
And now seemed like the perfect moment.
“Yohan.”
“Yeah?”
“Why do you act weird on purpose?”
“Weird?”
“Why do you make people look down on you? Don’t you think that’s really stupid?”
At my words, Go Yohan’s brows furrowed. Resting his chin on his fingers, he seemed to contemplate something before finally answering.
“Why do you think Han Junwoo lost to me?”
What the hell was he talking about?
I had no idea what he meant.
As I frowned and tilted my head, Go Yohan chuckled softly.
“What are you talking about?”
“That guy was raised too well. He never understood the mindset of those at the bottom.”
“...And that’s why you make people look down on you?”
“People need to be underestimated sometimes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“To get what you want, you have to know how to lie.”
“......”
“Just like you.”