Chapter -5

The moonlight slipped through the torn curtains of Jihu’s tiny rented room.

The pale glow revealed cracked walls, a creaky bed, and on the corner of the rickety table—the bag of food items that Prince had practically forced onto him earlier that day.

Jihu lay on his thin mattress, arms behind his head, eyes fixed on the bag as though it were some kind of cursed artifact.

His jaw tightened, and his lips curled into a frown.

"That arrogant bastard…", he muttered under his breath.

"Who does he think he is? Throwing food at me like I’m some kind of charity case. Acting like he’s doing me a favor. Hah! I didn’t even ask for it!"

But no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it, his eyes kept wandering back to that bag.

The rustle of plastic seemed louder in the silence, almost as if the bag itself was taunting him.

"Eat me… I’m free food…"

Jihu buried his face into the pillow, groaning.

And then… his stomach growled.

Loud.

Too loud.

Jihu froze. His cheeks burned.

Even though he was alone, the shame of that noise made him cover his face with both hands.

"Damn it… why now?!"

He peeked through his fingers at the bag again.

His throat felt dry, his stomach twisted.

He hadn’t eaten anything since morning—he’d skipped lunch to save money, then skipped dinner because he had nothing left to cook.

His pride fought desperately against his hunger.

"No. No way. I’m not eating something given by that jerk. If I eat it, it’ll be like I accepted his pity. I’d rather starve than accept anything from someone like him."

Another loud growl from his stomach.

Jihu sat up quickly, glaring at his own abdomen.

"Shut up, you traitor!" he snapped at himself, as though his body could be disciplined.

But in the quiet room, the smell of packaged bread and instant noodles teased him.

His nose twitched.

His lips parted.

He licked them unconsciously.

Finally, with the sulkiest expression, Jihu dragged himself out of bed.

He approached the bag like a soldier walking toward execution.

He stood in front of it, hands on his hips, glaring down.

"I’m only doing this because I’ll die if I don’t eat. Not because that bastard gave it to me. Got it?"

With that, he tore open the bag, pulled out the bread, and shoved it into his mouth aggressively.

"Stupid… annoying… bastard…" he grumbled between bites.

"Acting like some kind of savior… tch… I hate him… I hate him so much…"

But as the soft bread filled his empty stomach, his shoulders relaxed.

His chewing slowed.

His eyelids drooped just slightly.

And though he kept muttering insults, the corners of his lips betrayed him—lifting ever so faintly.

For the first time in weeks, he was eating without worrying about tomorrow’s expenses. And it felt… good.

Meanwhile, in the mansion…

Prince lay sprawled on his enormous bed, one arm under his head, staring at the ceiling.

His room was massive, decorated with expensive furniture, polished chandeliers, and thick velvet curtains.

Yet despite all the luxury around him, his mind was disturbingly restless.

He thought about school.

About his friends. About the usual noise.

But no matter what he tried to distract himself with, his thoughts always circled back to one person.

Jihu.

The image of that tall, slender boy glaring at him earlier wouldn’t leave his head.

The sharpness in his eyes, the defiance in his voice when he snapped back—"I don’t need sympathy!"

Normally, if anyone else dared to glare at him like that, Prince would’ve had them on their knees begging for mercy.

That was how he worked. That was how he maintained his image.

But with Jihu…

Prince found himself smirking at the memory.

"That guy… glaring at me like I’m trash… tch. Who the hell does he think he is?"

He rolled over, pulling a pillow under his chin.

His heart gave a weird little flutter, and he frowned instantly.

"But… damn…" he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. "Why the hell did he look… cute?"

The moment the word slipped from his mouth, Prince froze. His eyes widened, and he sat up straight.

"Wait... What the fuck did I just say?!"

He threw the pillow across the room, glaring at it as if it were responsible for his slip.

"Did I seriously… call that bastard cute?!" He ran his hands through his hair, tugging it in frustration.

"No... No way. Absolutely not. I’m losing it. I’m fucking losing it!"

He paced the room, muttering curses under his breath.

"He’s just some poor scholarship kid who takes beatings for money. Nothing about him is cute. Nothing. At. All."

But then he remembered Jihu’s expression when he had shoved the groceries back at him.

That proud, stubborn scowl paired with flushed cheeks.

The way his hand had felt when Prince had grabbed it earlier—warm, tense, but trembling ever so slightly.

Prince stopped pacing.

His chest tightened unexpectedly.

"Shit…"

He dropped back onto the bed, covering his face with both arms.

"This is bad… This is really bad…"

No matter how much he cursed himself, the image of Jihu’s eyes, that fragile pride, and the way he walked away with the bag of food… wouldn’t leave his mind.

And for the first time, Prince realized something terrifying.

He actually wanted to see Jihu again.

Back to Jihu’s room

Jihu finished the last piece of bread, licking his fingers before realizing what he was doing.

He quickly sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"Ugh… look at me," he grumbled, glaring at the empty wrapper. "I swore I wouldn’t eat it, and here I am… like a stray dog. Damn him."

He flopped back onto the bed, pulling the thin blanket over himself.

But even as he closed his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep, his thoughts betrayed him.

He remembered the warmth of Prince’s hand dragging him to the convenience store.

The way that tall figure walked ahead of him so casually, as though Jihu naturally belonged there beside him.

Jihu’s chest tightened. He shook his head violently.

"No. No way. He’s a bully. He’s nothing but trouble. I can’t… I won’t…