Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 2: It’s Mine

Kang Jinhee, the housekeeper working at Ha Dohoon’s house.

She lived alone after losing her young daughter and divorcing her husband.

The only thing she really knew how to do was housework, so she made a living working as a housekeeper for various families.

Most of her jobs were short-term due to demanding employers, but Ha Dohoon’s house, which was relatively easygoing, became the place she worked at the longest. She prepared meals for the family every day, packed snacks for the kids, and did the cleaning. Her day started early in the morning and didn’t end until late at night.

In other words, she was the one who had observed them the longest, up close.

Unlike the chatty housekeepers in other homes, Kang Jinhee never involved herself in her employers’ personal lives. She was just a worker being paid to do a job—there was no need to dig into their private affairs.

But that resolve didn’t quite hold when it came to this small boy.

“Maybe I’m just getting old...”

Or maybe it was because he reminded her of her late daughter.

Kang Jinhee had started working because of a sudden debt. Pressed by collectors, she followed her husband into the workforce. Desperate to make money, she had to leave her daughter home alone while she worked, often returning late at night. Her good, sweet girl had never once complained, always welcoming her mother home with a smile. Even the day of the fire, she smiled as she saw her off.

That smile—her little girl’s smile—was reduced to ashes in the flames.

She had wanted to die.

She couldn’t forget the way her daughter had forced a smile every time she left the house, hiding her disappointment. She kept thinking, if only she’d looked back once—just once—her daughter might still be alive. She longed for her and regretted it all.

If she could return to that moment, she would grab her daughter’s hand and never let go.

But then why—her daughter was gone, so why was she standing here again?

For a moment, when she saw Ha Giyeon, she almost mistook him for her child. Not because he looked like her, but because of the way he forced a smile.

Kang Jinhee had worked in many homes, but never in one where a child was treated so coldly—so much like a stranger—by his own family. Her employers, the ones who were supposed to be Ha Dohoon and Ha Giyeon’s parents, cherished their eldest son, Dohoon, with an intensity that was almost frightening. They closely monitored his health, his meals, his vitamins, his clothes, even his mood. But when it came to Giyeon, they were utterly indifferent.

So much so that anyone might think he wasn’t their biological son.

They didn’t know whether he was home, whether he’d eaten, or if he had allergies. And yet, even under that neglect, Giyeon was desperate to be loved. Even as he faced their coldness and discrimination right in front of him, he always smiled. He lifted the corners of his lips because he didn’t want to be hated.

And now that child—now that he’d become a boy—was finally crying instead of smiling.

Kang Jinhee couldn’t bring herself to comfort him. She didn’t feel she had the right to embrace a boy who had finally let go of his family’s hand.

So instead, she did what she could: she made him a warm meal.

“Do you want some more rice?”

Ha Giyeon wiped his tears and gave a small nod.

Seeing that, Kang Jinhee realized—he looked better crying openly than forcing that fake smile.

***

“Thank you for the meal.”

“Would you like some fruit? Or something sweet, like cookies—”

“No, it’s okay. I ate so much, I feel like I might explode.”

When Ha Giyeon gave his belly a gentle pat, the housekeeper smiled.

It’s been so long since I’ve eaten until I was full like this...

Before his regression, he often skipped meals.

Partly because of work, partly because his exhausted body had lost its appetite.

Not that he’d ever eaten his fill before leaving home, either.

He was too busy reading his parents’ mood to even eat properly.

“Um... Miss, would it be okay if I... started having breakfast at six by myself from now on?”

“Every day? Are you going somewhere early?”

“Not exactly. I just think this time works best for me. I’ll make sure not to get in your way when you’re prepping breakfast.”

The family usually ate at 7 a.m.

But Ha Giyeon wanted to eat at 6, an hour earlier. His parents often skipped breakfast altogether, and even when they sat together, they were too absorbed in their own conversation.

He was never really part of that anyway.

...Is there even a reason to keep waiting?

He wasn’t their real son, so of course he wasn’t family. In fact, his presence was probably less significant than the housekeeper’s. He’d never once forgotten the look on his parents’ faces the moment they found out he wasn’t their biological child.

Disgust. Hatred. Contempt.

To them, his existence was no different than a thief stealing their “real” son’s place. From the moment he opened his eyes again, that family no longer existed. It never had.

...This is probably just a hassle for her.

Feeling awkward, Giyeon scratched the back of his neck.

“Never mind. Just forget I said anything...”

“No, it’s fine. From now on, I’ll have your breakfast ready at six.”

For some reason, she said it with a spark of enthusiasm.

“I mean, bread or cereal is fine—”

“Nonsense! You need a hearty meal in the morning! Be sure to come down.”

She handed him a warm plum tea, then returned to the kitchen to prep the next meal.

Watching her retreating figure, Ha Giyeon felt a pang of regret. He’d been so fixated on his family and his brother that he’d never noticed what was around him. Someone warm had been close to him all along, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» watching him.

“...”

He held the warm tea and headed back to his room.

Up the stairs, down the hallway. His small, tucked-away room stood in contrast to the one by the stairs—that was Ha Dohoon’s room. Since leaving home, Giyeon hadn’t seen his brother once. He probably felt the same way as their parents—that it was revolting to think Giyeon wasn’t really his brother.

...It’s best to avoid him from now on.

Dohoon always acted like Giyeon was a nuisance. More than anything, he hated when people called them brothers.

Just as Giyeon was about to walk past the room—

Click.

“...!”

Dohoon’s door opened.

“...What the hell.”

Dohoon’s drowsy eyes, still heavy with sleep, landed on Giyeon. Giyeon froze for a moment. There wasn’t even a single photo of them together, so he hadn’t clearly remembered what his brother looked like.

So this is what he looked like...

Even with bed hair and sleep in his eyes, his good looks were arresting.

“What are you doing up this early?”

Snapping out of it, Giyeon answered quickly.

“I woke up early, so...”

“Tea? Plum tea this early? The hell...”

Dohoon ran a hand through his hair and reached out.

“Give it.”

“...?”

Dohoon held out his hand like it was only natural.

Giyeon blinked, confused. He couldn’t possibly be asking for his hand... right?

“Plum tea first thing in the morning? Fucking stomachache waiting to happen. You bring something, and it’s always this crap...”

“It’s mine.”

He thought it was for him?

Well... I guess whatever he wanted, he always got.

Recalling the way he used to act, Giyeon turned and walked to his room.

“...What?”

Dohoon, half-asleep, seemed confused, but by the time he asked, Giyeon had already closed his door. Dohoon stood there, staring blankly at Giyeon’s door, looking thoroughly dumbfounded.

***

Back in his room, Ha Giyeon searched on the computer for nearby libraries and study materials.

He’d felt it back when he was studying for the college entrance exam too—if you don’t have the basics, you can’t even begin. Unlike his brother who had private tutoring, Giyeon didn’t even attend a cram school. He had to study using only textbooks, free online lectures, and practice workbooks.

And he had to earn the money to buy those workbooks himself.

“Ah... You need to be eighteen... Okay, I understand.”

He ended his sixth rejection call and let out a sigh.

At seventeen, finding part-time work at a convenience store or café wasn’t easy. Warehouse gigs were technically possible, but unless he got kicked out immediately and had no other choice, it was better to avoid them. Just one shift there could end with him in the hospital—especially with this skinny body.

Should I go outside and look around in person?

Rubbing his aching forehead, Ha Giyeon left his room. He hadn’t realized while cooped up inside, but the time had already passed two in the afternoon.

Guess I’ll just eat some bread or something.

As he came downstairs, he heard voices from the living room.

“You dumbass. Can’t play for shit.”

“It’s the controller. You want me to bring the one from my house?”

“You get wrecked and start making excuses.”

“......!”

The voices—he froze.

It had been so long since he’d heard them. He thought he’d forgotten what they sounded like. He’d wanted to hear them, but never could. And even when he tried to remember, all that came back were those cruel, final words. He hadn’t wanted to recall them.

But now, hearing them again, his heart slammed against his chest.

Ha Giyeon let out a shaky breath and headed to the kitchen. Once the voices were out of earshot, he calmed himself a little and drank a glass of cold water to steady his nerves. The icy water stung his teeth and shocked him awake.

He quietly opened the fridge to grab some bread and go back upstairs.

“Strawberry tart...?”

A luxurious dessert sat front and center in the fridge. Just the sight of it made his mouth water. Looked like the housekeeper had prepared it before heading out to do the shopping. Giyeon pulled it out, cut a slice, and placed it on a plate.

“Giyeon, you’re up?”

Someone entered the kitchen.

He didn’t even need to turn around—only one person called him “Giyeon” like that.

“You sure sleep a lot, even though it’s break.”

Soft brown curls, gentle eyes, a calm smile on his lips.

Kwon Jongseok—Ha Giyeon’s first love and the one who broke his heart.

It had been so long since he’d seen that face. Giyeon stared for a moment, stunned. Even in dreams, his face had always been blurry. But now, it was clear.

So this is what he really looked like...

“Giyeon?”

“Oh... Yeah.”

Snapping out of it, Giyeon nodded vaguely. Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen each other in so long—it felt strange. To Jongseok, though, it had only been yesterday.

Giyeon turned to the espresso machine, popped in a capsule, and pressed the button. As the coffee brewed, Jongseok spoke up, half-pouting.

“I don’t even like coffee, you know~”

“...Huh?”

Of course he knew. Jongseok liked sweet drinks—he always went for hot chocolate.

Giyeon had once known everything about them. What they liked to eat, their favorite colors, their preferences. He’d tried so hard to learn every little thing about his crushes.

But in the end, he hadn’t known a single thing about himself.

Because everything he did had been tailored to them.

Only after leaving home did he realize he liked bitter coffee. Giyeon inhaled the rising aroma of espresso. It was different from the stick coffee he used to drink three or four times a day before his regression, but that stick coffee had still been the one comfort that got him through those grueling days.

“Your mom went out earlier.”

“...Huh?”

What was he doing in the kitchen, spouting random info like that?

As Giyeon placed the tart and coffee on a tray, Jongseok looked at him, puzzled.

“Who’s that for?”

“It’s mine.”

“...Yours?”

“Yeah.”

Wasn’t it obvious? The espresso wasn’t even something his brothers liked. Who else would he be giving it to?

As he walked past the confused Jongseok to leave the kitchen, someone else stepped in to block his path.

“What the hell is this.”

Sharp eyes glared down at him. Sleek black hair fell to the base of his neck. A boy with a cold, cutting expression.

The one I least wanted to run into... Of course it had to be him.

Choi Mujin.

The last person Giyeon had confessed to.

It’s only been a day, and I’m already running into everyone.

So much for avoiding them. This house was a landmine.

Mujin looked him up and down, then glanced at the tray and scowled.

“What is this, coffee? Who’s gonna drink that? You planning to scarf it all down yourself?”

The way he casually spit out those sharp words—it was just like before. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

“Why is everyone gathered here.”

Even Ha Dohoon, standing a step behind and watching indifferently.

And yet...

Something felt strange.

Is it because I’ve regressed?

Mentally, Giyeon was twenty-nine years old.

So maybe that’s why—these boys, who had once seemed so dazzling, so out of reach—

Why do they seem so... childish now?

Just high schoolers. Nothing more, nothing less.