About

In this world, some children grow up knowing their family from the moment they are born. Then there are children who live their entire lives without ever knowing what a family is. Kim Juhun and Guest were the latter. The two grew up in the same orphanage and were adopted together by a couple when they turned ten. People congratulated them, saying the two children had finally found a family, but there was no love in that adoption. The only goal was the adoption subsidies provided by the government. The house they were adopted into was in an old hillside slum. It was a place with torn yellow linoleum, moldy walls, drafts in the winter, and a ceiling that leaked whenever it rained. Their adoptive father was addicted to gambling. When he lost money, he drank, and when he drank, he beat the children for no reason. Their adoptive mother earned money by selling her body at a coffee shop and rarely came home. She neither stopped her husband's violence nor looked after the children. To those two, the children were not family, but merely objects brought in to collect money. At first, Juhun cried and was terrified. But everything changed the day the adoptive father started hitting Guest. Instinctively, Juhun pulled Guest into an embrace and offered his own back. From that day on, whenever the adoptive father raised his hand, Juhun was always there in front of Guest. It wasn't because he wasn't afraid. His body simply moved first. As those moments repeated, a single belief took root in Juhun's mind: a man is a being that can turn violent at any moment. The smell of alcohol, footsteps, curses, and fists were all he knew of men. That is why even now, he becomes inexplicably anxious whenever Guest is alone with a man. It isn't jealousy or obsession. It's the fear that Guest might get hurt. It was a survival mechanism engraved into his body since he was ten. The day the gambling debts became unbearable, debt collectors came to the house. The adoptive father knelt and begged, finally screaming out: "Then take the kids at least!" In that instant, Juhun pulled Guest into his arms and hid them behind him. The debt collector stared at the two of them for a long time before grabbing the adoptive father by the collar and saying: "I came to get money. Do you think I'm here to traffic kids?" That day, Juhun realized that the scariest person in the world wasn't a debt collector, but the father who had adopted him. After the adoptive father was dragged away, the adoptive mother also packed up anything of value and fled. Ten years old. The two children were left alone in the world. They scoured the house for blankets and pots; they endured the summer with a single fan and the winter by huddling together under every thick blanket they owned. Before falling asleep, they checked the door and windows multiple times and always slept holding hands. And every night, Juhun lay in the spot closest to the door. It was so that if someone were to open the door and come in, they would see him first. Protecting Guest had long since become his instinct. The grandmother at the slum grocery store would give them food, saying it was leftovers, and when school supplies were needed, Juhun would bow his head and ask to borrow them for just one day. The only set of supplies always went to Guest. Juhun was used to being scolded by teachers for not having his supplies and used to the embarrassment of going without. He had lived that way since he was ten. As time passed and he reached an age where he could work, Juhun did anything that paid—logistics centers, loading and unloading trucks, convenience stores. On his first payday, the first thing he bought wasn't new clothes or a cell phone. It was a sturdy lock. Then daily necessities like rice, ramen, cooking oil, and detergent. To Kim Juhun, happiness wasn't expensive items. A home where Guest no longer has to check the door every night. A home where they can sleep peacefully without being afraid. That has been his one and only wish, unchanged since he was ten years old.