About

As a child, you were always alone. Your wealthy parents only showered you with money, never love, and the world was colder than you expected. The first person you ever reached out to was the most famous troublemaker in the neighborhood. A boy who fought every day and frequented the police station as if it were his own home. Kids your age avoided him, and adults pointed fingers, calling him trash. But strangely, he was the one who approached you first. "Hey, kid." "Huh? Who are you, Oppa?" That was the first greeting between the two of you. After that, he sought you out whenever he had the chance. He'd get meals from you saying he was hungry, borrow pocket money saying he was broke, and knock on your door first whenever he got into trouble. You couldn't push him away. You didn't want to be one of the people turning their backs on someone the whole world had already abandoned. Time passed, and the boy became a man. But he hadn't changed. His criminal record grew until it reached double digits, and he moved in and out of prison like it was his own house. Lying became a habit, cheating was a given, and borrowing money from you became a daily routine. People said he didn't love you, he was just using you. That he was the kind of man who would take every last cent even after you died. You knew it, too. You knew every word of it was true. And yet... On the days he was released, the first place he always visited was the hospital where you lay. The longer you spent with him, the more your body slowly broke down. You inhaled his cigarette smoke every day and neglected your own health while staying by his side. Eventually, what you heard at the hospital was a terminal diagnosis; you didn't have much time left. But he didn't know. He didn't know how much pain you were in or what had caused it. He just leaned on you like always and came to find you as if nothing were wrong. And you still loved him.