Chapter 86

“Teacher. Did my dad send a reply?”

Among the child’s chirping little-bird chatter, the word reply popped up sharply like a tab springing out of a picture book.

The teacher stopped what she was doing when small hands tugged insistently at her pant leg. Then, wearing an awkward expression, she gently stroked the child’s head.

“Sorry, Yuli. There’s still no message from him.”

“......”

At the teacher’s answer, lips puffed out between soft, round cheeks. Even his short eyebrows tilted upward in obvious sulking disappointment.

What do I do with him?

Feeling helpless, the teacher patted Yuli’s head again and again.

“Maybe your dad’s busy and hasn’t checked his phone yet? The second he replies, I’ll tell you right away.”

“Dad’s busy every day.”

The muttered complaint slipped out grumpily.

Looking down at the child’s unhappy face, the teacher pressed the back of her hand to his cheek.

“Let’s see... You still feel a little warm.”

“I have a fever. My face feels all hot. Did you tell Dad Yuli has a fever too?”

“Of course I did. I told him everything. So once he checks his phone, he’ll probably reply right away, okay?”

Speaking reassuringly, the teacher disinfected the thermometer and placed it in the child’s ear.

37.4 degrees.

Not alarmingly high, but the fever that had started around lunchtime showed no sign of going down.

“Dad’s stupid. Yuli’s sick and he doesn’t even know......”

Oh dear.

The same conversation was starting again.

“Yuli, what did I say about why your dad works so hard?”

“...To buy Yuli yummy food, and clothes, and take care of me.”

“That’s right. So what should Yuli do?”

“Eat well, play hard, and study hard too.”

The child answered clearly and carefully, like he’d memorized it.

“What about the picture you were drawing earlier? Did you finish coloring it?”

The child visibly flinched.

“...No.”

The teacher laughed softly and patted his back.

“Then hurry and come finish coloring it with me. You need to show it to your dad later.”

In the child’s sketch there were three people.

When she’d asked who they were, he’d proudly answered: Dad, Uncle Hyesung, and Yuli.

Watching the little round head bent earnestly over the crayons, coloring away with both hands clenched tightly around them, the teacher checked the time.

Already 5 p.m.

Yuli was in the extended daycare program. “Uncle Hyesung,” who always brought him to preschool and picked him up, would probably arrive around six.

The number of times the teacher had actually seen “Yuli’s father” could be counted on one hand.

Three or four times at most.

And every single time, he’d come wearing a hat and mask, so she’d never properly seen his face.

Among the teachers, though, he was famous as “that guardian with really beautiful eyes.”

But whenever he came to pick Yuli up, he kept his head lowered and quietly disappeared with the child before anyone could really talk to him.

She hadn’t thought much of it.

He stood out a little, sure, but there were all kinds of children at the preschool, and naturally all kinds of parents too. As the years passed, unusual young parents became more and more common.

Still, on the rare days when Yuli’s father came instead of Uncle Hyesung, Yuli looked unbelievably happy.

From that alone, she could tell that even if he was busy, he must’ve been a good father to the child.

And Yuli proved it constantly.

Every time he opened his mouth, it was “Dad, Dad, Dad.”

Not only that, Yuli’s father was one of the rare guardians who always replied to the preschool notification messages with detailed thank-you responses.

Long, thoughtful messages full of care.

And yet, for the first time in six-year-old Yuli’s life, hardship seemed to have arrived.

He said he was a freelancer... I wonder where he traveled for work.

“Yuli’s father” had left home for about two weeks on a business trip.

Uncle Hyesung handled drop-offs and pickups anyway, but Yuli’s father had still messaged the teacher personally, politely explaining the situation and asking her to look after Yuli.

He’d been someone who never once failed to respond to the preschool messages.

But ever since leaving for the trip, the messages had stopped completely.

Resting her chin in one hand, the teacher watched the child quietly.

Yuli was always bright, cheerful, and fearless.

The unusually adorable child looked like a freshly steamed dumpling. Sometimes he had a habit of chewing absentmindedly with puffed cheeks, and every time he did, the round cheeks bobbed up and down so cutely it melted people on sight.

Poor thing.

Over the past few days since Yuli’s father left home, the child had become noticeably withdrawn.

He talked less.

Stopped showing interest in games.

And now he’d even developed a fever.

Just as the teacher swallowed down an impending sigh, the intercom in the art room rang.

It was a call from the director’s office.

A guardian had arrived to pick Yuli up.

“Yuli, I think Uncle Hyesung’s here. Let’s pack up!”

Yuli bounced upright like a ping-pong ball.

Stuffing his sketchbook into his bag in a rush, he sprinted noisily down the hallway.

So cute.

Smiling unconsciously, the teacher followed after him.

“......”

But the moment Yuli reached the entrance, he froze.

“Yuli, Uncle’s here. Let’s go home.”

The person who came to pick him up wasn’t Uncle Hyesung.

It was Uncle Kisoo.

The teacher knew him too. A middle-aged man who occasionally came in place of Uncle Hyesung when he was busy.

“No! No! Bring Dad!”

Yuli threw himself onto the floor and burst into tears.

It wasn’t that he disliked Uncle Kisoo.

It was just that, on top of his father being gone, his hopes kept getting crushed over and over.

“Y-Yuli. You can’t cry like this, okay?”

The more flustered Uncle Kisoo became, the louder Yuli cried.

The teacher crouched beside them and tried to soothe him too, but the child showed no sign of calming down.

There was one thing the teacher didn’t know.

Yuli was a smart child.

He’d long ago figured out that if he pushed Uncle Kisoo hard enough, there was a high chance his dad would appear.

But this time, even clever little Yuli’s tricks were useless.

Because Yuli’s father, Gyeol Go—was trapped on an island.

***

Maybe it was because he’d suddenly entered water deep enough to reach his chest.

Breathing felt strangely difficult, as if the oxygen around him had thinned.

Gyeol wasn’t an idiot.

He understood perfectly well what it meant when someone—especially someone like Sun Choi—approached him this aggressively.

“......”

Words didn’t come easily.

As Gyeol silently searched for something to say, Sun suddenly took hold of his other hand beneath the water and lifted it carefully above the surface.

His injured hand.

The absurdity of suddenly ending up in something resembling an oath-taking pose almost made Gyeol laugh, and he couldn’t bring himself to say Sun wasn’t adorable when he was still worrying so carefully about him even now.

A soft laugh escaped him like air leaking from a balloon.

“Sorry. I really don’t want to laugh.”

“......I’m sorry too. I don’t want to keep doing things I should apologize for.”

Looking at the bandage now soaked with water, Sun added gloomily.

The bold momentum he’d shown earlier had vanished completely, the ends of his brows drooping in dejection.

“It was only in the water for a second. I used a waterproof bandage, so it’s fine.”

“Just a moment. I’ll be right back.”

After glancing around, Sun cut through the water toward the opposite side of the pool.

“Huh? Wait...”

The pool was fairly large, so Gyeol could only stand there blankly watching him.

After walking a few steps, Sun slipped fully into the water and started swimming freestyle.

Then suddenly—

Gyeol’s gaze drifted elsewhere.

Maybe he’d felt someone watching him.

Or maybe he’d simply been pulled by something unavoidable.

The only thing Gyeol knew for certain—

was that Yo Han Sung was standing there.

The annex pool was an infinity pool jutting outward over a steep cliffside.

And unfortunately, the spot where Gyeol stood faced directly toward the western main-building pool.

Yo Han stood at the edge of the infinity pool, staring outward.

More precisely—

he was looking at Gyeol.

Their eyes met.

How long had he been watching?

From where?

It felt like getting caught in a moment he shouldn’t have seen.

Which, turned around, meant something else entirely:

Gyeol himself hadn’t wanted Yo Han to see him together with another Alpha.

It wasn’t disgust.

Wasn’t discomfort.

He didn’t think Yo Han had been spying on him.

Honestly, it would’ve been easier if he had felt something negative like that.

But no matter how deeply he dug through the mess of emotions inside him, there wasn’t even the thinnest thread of resentment.

He just—

didn’t want Yo Han seeing him with another Alpha.

Without even understanding what that feeling meant, or what kind of emotion it really was, regret flooded him simply because the moment had been exposed.

“Gyeol?”

At the sound of his name, Gyeol hurriedly looked away.

Sun had already returned, and floating beside him was an inner tube.

Gyeol’s heartbeat pounded violently.

Puzzled by his reaction, Sun turned to look toward the direction Gyeol had been staring.

“It’s Yo Han Sung. Looks like they’re swimming over there too.”

They meant Yo Han and Jaekyung Park.

Because Jaekyung—who’d won the Ivory Mansion date pass together with Sun—

had chosen Yo Han as his date partner.

“...Yeah.”

Sun’s response was calm.

Gyeol glanced sideways toward Yo Han again.

Unlike before, Yo Han now stood with his back turned. It seemed Jaekyung had entered the pool.

“Here. If you rest your arm on this, it won’t get wet.”

Acting as though it were nothing important, Sun turned back and handed him the inner tube.

So that’s what he went to get.

Thanking him quietly, Gyeol accepted it.

Gyeol rested his arm atop the tube while Sun walked beside him through the pool, the two of them chatting quietly together.

Gradually, night deepened.

As darkness settled over the surroundings, the underwater lights shining up from the bottom of the pool grew brighter and brighter.

And the brighter they became—

the more brightly lit the other pool became too.

The one where Yo Han’s group was.

Part of him wanted to ignore them completely.

But with the surroundings dark and deserted, the only visible movement anywhere nearby came from that direction, and his eyes kept drifting there despite himself.

Finally, Gyeol turned his back to them entirely.

Holding onto the tube, he slowly kicked toward the deck and asked Sun,

“Sun, should we head inside now? I’m getting hungry.”

“Sounds good. But before that...”

Seeing Gyeol lift the tube onto the deck, Sun gestured for him to wait a moment.

Then, bracing a hand against the edge, he climbed out of the water alone.

Not using the handrail.

Not struggling upward.

He simply jumped and landed on the deck in one clean motion.

Gyeol couldn’t even begin to understand how that was physically possible.

“...Huh?”

“Just a second.”

Did he just leave me behind?

Standing there blankly staring upward, Gyeol watched Sun smile and gesture for him to stay put.

“No, wait. Sun.”

I want to get out too.

Before Gyeol could protest further, Sun disappeared across the deck with long strides.

Then he returned carrying a large towel draped over one arm.

Walking right up to the edge of the pool where Gyeol stood, Sun brushed back his wet hair and held out his hand.

“Here. I’ll lift you up.”

The underwater lights reflected across Sun’s soaked face and body, making him glow softly in the dark.