DPGR 11

Dojin, who had seated Jiho in front of the vanity placed in one corner of the dressing room, took out a hairdryer.

Soon, a small scuffle broke out between Jiho, who said he could dry his hair by himself, and Dojin, who insisted on drying it for him. This time, however, Dojin had the upper hand.

“I’ll be faster if I do it for you.”

Drops of water from Jiho’s hair fell onto his shoulders. Adding that if he caught a cold, he would have to go to the hospital, Jiho quieted down.

It seemed like he didn’t want to cause any more trouble for Dojin by getting sick here.
The warm air blew with a hum, drying the moisture from Jiho’s hair. Dojin’s large hands, surprisingly gentle, moved carefully as he dried Jiho’s hair.

After a while, his hair was dry and soft. Dojin, brushing through the messy strands, smiled brightly.

“All done.”

Jiho awkwardly tidied his hair while glancing at Dojin in the mirror.
From his expression, it seemed that he didn’t mind Dojin’s touch.

“Shall we go to the living room and talk?”
Dojin, looking at Jiho, extended his hand. There were so many things they should have discussed earlier.

Jiho hesitated before placing his hand on top of his. His soft cheeks seemed to tense up a little.

⸻

‘Should I say everything honestly? If so, where should I start and how much should I tell…?’
Jiho sat on the couch, fidgeting with his fingers, nervously eyeing Dojin.
It was fine that he had come this far without separating from him, but now that Dojin had asked to talk, he had no idea where to start or how much to share.
‘Besides, I can’t talk…’
Mouthing words wasn’t enough to communicate much. During the conversation, Dojin might feel frustrated and think less of him.
Jiho didn’t believe Dojin was that kind of person, but what if?
He had already caused him a lot of trouble due to his needy nature.
If communication didn’t work, there was no guarantee that Dojin wouldn’t get irritated, no matter how kind he was.
Thinking of the worst-case scenario, Jiho’s eyes drooped even further. His neck shrank like a turtle’s, and his lips poked out.
Something suddenly appeared in front of him. It was something Dojin had brought after rummaging through the room for a while.
‘…A notebook?’
It was a pink notebook the size of a palm. The cover had a cartoon character that children would like.
It was an item that seemed entirely out of place for Dojin. When Jiho took it, looking confused, he looked up at him, and Dojin awkwardly explained.
“My nephew left it here last time.”
Jiho learned for the first time that Dojin had a nephew. Actually, he hadn’t even known that Dojin had siblings, so it made sense.
‘Come to think of it, I don’t know much about Baek Dojin.’
Though he had survived thanks to Dojin’s kindness for years, they hadn’t had much personal interaction. The only exchanges between them had been sweet pastries.
When Jiho looked at the notebook with a gloomy face, Dojin cleared his throat and asked,
“You know how to write, right?”
Jiho nodded.
This time, a yellow pencil was placed in his hand. Dojin sat down next to him with a little space between them and continued explaining.
“Just answer my questions. Of course, write your answers in the notebook.”
Jiho’s lips moved as he realized that writing would make communication easier.
In his past life, no one had ever cared about Jiho’s opinions. So, this kind of communication felt unfamiliar to him.
“First, what is your name?”
When Jiho opened the notebook and gripped the pencil, Dojin asked the easiest question first. He planned to ask small, easy questions to help him relax.
Not knowing this, Jiho was puzzled, wondering why he was being asked something he already knew.
Scritch-scratch—
Despite this, Jiho diligently wrote down his answer to Dojin’s question in the notebook.
The pencil scratched the paper as it formed Jiho’s answer, which was a bit crooked.
[Seo Jiho]
“What’s your date of birth?”
[May 5, 20XX]
“What’s your favorite food?”
Why was he asking these things?
Jiho furrowed his brows. After thinking for a while, he cautiously wrote his answer.
[Cookies.]
“Cookies. What kind of cookies?”
[I like all kinds of cookies.]
“What about other foods? Cookies are just snacks, aren’t they?”
Food. Jiho tapped his lips with the pencil and moved his hand again.
Scritch-scratch, the sound of the pencil was small but clear in the quiet living room.
[I don’t know.]
For all his thinking, this was a rather unsatisfactory answer. Dojin raised an eyebrow.
He couldn’t believe Jiho didn’t know his favorite food.
Since he’d been in the hospital, Jiho had only eaten soft porridge.
His stomach and esophagus had been severely damaged, making it difficult to eat regular food.
But now, he needed to start eating proper food, so Dojin had asked to learn his preferences.
It seemed Jiho had been in the facility longer than Dojin had thought.
‘Why is he upset?’
Jiho, unaware of Dojin’s thoughts, began watching him closely again as Dojin’s expression stiffened.
He probably thought his answer was insincere. Jiho, feeling a bit guilty, grabbed the pencil again.

[…Ramen. Triangle kimbap. Boiled eggs.]
Jiho wrote down the foods he often ate when he was at the center during his lifetime. Since he usually ate convenience store food, all the foods he listed were simple instant items.
Upon seeing this, Dojin’s expression darkened further. Jiho, feeling anxious, quickly wrote more.
[I don’t have food preferences. I only eat a little rice.]
Jiho looked up at Dojin with teary eyes. Dojin, realizing his mistake, softened his expression.
“Not having food preferences, that’s excellent. You should eat more rice.”
Jiho nodded eagerly. He wasn’t sure what Dojin wanted, but he decided to follow his advice and eat more rice without being picky.
Afterward, more questions followed that Jiho couldn’t understand.
What’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite season? Do you have a favorite song?
Jiho thought carefully and diligently moved his pencil.
Every time he lowered his head, his messy hair kept falling over his eyes, but he didn’t mind at all.
It was actually Dojin who seemed more bothered by the inconvenience.
“Your hair is long, so it seems uncomfortable.”
Jiho shook his head, then hurriedly wrote something in the notebook.
[It’s fine.]
Dojin gently lifted Jiho’s bangs with his hand and said,
“I’m not fine with it. Wait here for a moment.”
He stood up and went back into the room.
A short while later, Dojin came back with a cute hair tie.
‘Pink…’
The hair tie was a deep pink, the kind often called “flower pink.” At the end, two cute strawberry-shaped pom-poms were attached.
Was this also something his nephew had left behind?
“It’s my nephew’s.”
Dojin spoke softly as he lifted Jiho’s bangs and tied his hair into a single ponytail. With his chubby cheeks still present, the strawberry hair tie made him look even younger.
‘He should probably get a trim at a beauty salon.’
Dojin thought to himself, though he didn’t show it.
A beauty salon was still unfamiliar territory for Jiho, and Dojin figured that taking him there might stress him out or scare him, which wouldn’t do any good.
For now, this would have to suffice.
Luckily, Jiho didn’t seem to mind the newly tied hair, only fidgeting with his forehead as if it felt awkward. He didn’t pull his hair out or refuse.
Dojin patted Jiho’s head, then pointed back to the notebook.
“Shall we continue our conversation?”
Jiho, his cheeks flushed red, nodded. As if the tension had disappeared, his hand moved smoothly as he wrote his answer.

⸻

“Sigh…”

Dojin sighed quietly as he gazed down at Jiho, who was sound asleep.

In his hand was the notebook Jiho had written in.

[I have no family.]

[I was left in front of an orphanage when I was a baby.]

[I entered the facility when I was eight.]

[The owner bought me.]

Dojin had learned a lot from their conversation.

For example, Jiho was an orphan, and the head of the facility had “purchased” Jiho when he was eight from the orphanage director.

He also learned about what Jiho had done at the facility and why he had been in the hallway when he was rescued.

[I dealt with customers.]

[If I yelled or resisted, I was punished severely.]

[Products that didn’t listen had to be hit.]

[I wanted to escape from there. That’s why I was running away…]

The scattered, disjointed words painted a horrific picture. Despite reliving these terrible memories, Jiho’s expression showed no change.

Only his trembling fingertips and slightly ragged breathing made Dojin realize that he was swallowing his fear.

Eventually, the conversation ended there, and Dojin hurriedly began preparing dinner to divert Jiho’s attention.

Meanwhile, he struggled to suppress the intense anger boiling within him.

The orphanage director who had sold an eight-year-old child to an unidentified man.
The head of the facility who had physically and mentally abused young Jiho.

The staff members at the facility who had hurt Jiho and the customers who had bullied him and exploited his guiding energy.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. At the same time, he felt proud of Jiho for enduring all that time and trying to escape.

‘Maybe… he even thought of death.’

Jiho’s desire to escape might not have been about the facility itself. Perhaps he had been trying to escape from that horrifying life.

‘What if I hadn’t met him there?’

What if the operation had been delayed, or if someone else from the facility had found Jiho before him?

A deep furrow appeared between Dojin’s brows.