PHUW 123

The Vice Chairman, who had personally put underwear on a grown man, even provided drying service, and the whole process flowed as naturally as water. Considering the groundbreaking nonsense Haeri had pulled, Jeong Mok could have said something, yet he did not utter a word. That part was something Haeri truly appreciated.

“Get dressed and come out.”

“Yes.”

After putting away the dryer, Jeong Mok finally left the room.

‘Why did you go and buy that crap again? It’s so embarrassing.’

He stopped dressing, threw himself onto the bed, and thrashed around. After carrying on like that for quite a while, he left the room.

Jeong Mok was coming in with Gom-i, the dog he had locked up. With his head lowered and whining, Gom-i was calm, unlike before.

“Haeri, don’t move. You, follow me, Gom-i.”

The dog, still whining as he kept his eyes on Haeri, was led across the living room by Jeong Mok. He hooked the chain leash onto the stair railing on the opposite side of the room. The house was so large that unless one went that way deliberately, there was no chance of running into Gom-i.

“Wait there.”

At Jeong Mok’s firm command, the dog quickly lay down. Despite his sturdy appearance, his eyes, watching Haeri’s way with a look as if the world had ended, were unusually moist. Did dogs cry? It was not like he had done anything wrong, but Haeri’s chest stung.

He could not bring himself to go closer. When he stared from a distance, Gom-i lifted his head. He looked exactly like a child crying after being abandoned. Haeri felt sorry.

“Sorry I don’t remember.”

Air blew out from between his black jowls with a snort. They trembled with grief. For a moment Haeri felt the urge to pet him, but his fear was even greater.

“Don’t pay attention and come this way. If you give him attention, it’ll only drag on.”

The owner was cold. Wasn’t he moved at all? Well, he probably knew better than Haeri did. Turning back to glance at Gom-i, Haeri headed into the kitchen.

He sat at the table naturally. Jeong Mok set down a small plate and a glass, smiling faintly.

“You look good dressed like that.”

It was an outfit anyone could wear comfortably, regardless of wealth, gender, or age.

On top of that, Jeong Mok was dressed casually too, in a sports brand outfit similar to Haeri’s. The only difference was that instead of shorts he wore long training pants that dropped down to his heels, and while Haeri’s sweatshirt sleeves covered the backs of his hands, Jeong Mok had pushed his sleeves up neatly to expose well-defined forearms.

“This?”

“Yeah. I like it, it feels like the usual you.”

So even when he had no memory, he must have liked this kind of outfit.

Wait. Was there even anyone his age who didn’t dress like this at home? The only difference was whether it was long sleeves and pants or not. It felt like pointless overinterpretation, but Jeong Mok did not seem to think so. He looked at Haeri with satisfaction.

It felt strange. Not just awkward, but faintly unpleasant.

‘What is this. It’s like I’m some kind of substitute.’

Strictly speaking, the one who had lost his memory was the fake, and the one who had found it was the real Haeri. But both that damned dog and its owner, while pretending otherwise, were quietly searching for the fake in him.

Even so, it wasn’t something he could tell them not to do. After all, the only reason he was alive now was because that “fake” who had lost his memory got tangled up with Jeong Mok. No matter how much it made his insides twist, he had to at least pretend.

“Ahn Haeri has to be Ahn Haeri.”

He smiling faintly and he lowered his gaze. What Jeong Mok handed over was sweet potato and barley tea.

What kind of chaebol served this. Not that he expected something extravagant sprinkled with gold powder, but this felt a little wrong.

‘Who knows, maybe it only looked plain. Maybe the sweet potatoes were grown for generations by an old family in a remote valley in Gangwon, each one costing a hundred thousand won. Or maybe the barley was raised grain by grain on the clean volcanic rocks of Jeju, turned into tea by a wrinkled old monk… something like that.’

He ate it anyway. The sweet potato was soft, breaking apart as soon as he bit into it. He swallowed half as it crumbled, he washed down the other half with barley tea. Maybe it was just his cheap taste, but he couldn’t tell what was supposed to be so special. It was just an ordinary sweet potato and ordinary barley tea.

‘But it’s still tasty.’

As he chewed, Jeong Mok prepared a stainless steel basin that looked out of place in the sleek kitchen. He dumped in boiled chicken breast and sweet potatoes. Then he opened medicine bottles Haeri had never seen before, added pills and powder, and finally scooped in two measures of brown pellets from a large storage container under the sink.

Wearing plastic gloves, Jeong Mok mixed everything in the basin with his hands. From the corner, Gom-i, who had been doing his best to look pitiful, stood up. His expression changed, and he even wagged his tail as if delighted.

Carrying the basin, Jeong Mok approached Gom-i and gave a command.

“Sit.”

Gom-i’s rear hit the floor. Jeong Mok placed the basin on the ground.

“Wait.”

Though drool dripped, Gom-i only kept his eyes fixed on Jeong Mok’s hand. After holding eye contact for quite a while, Jeong Mok finally gave the command, “Eat.” The massive head immediately dove into the basin. The way he devoured with loud chomps made it seem as though a war had broken out.

On the sink, frozen sweet potato wrappers were piled high.

‘So this is… dog food, right?’

He looked back and forth between the empty plate in front of him and the stainless steel basin Gom-i was licking clean in an instant. The feeling was strange. If he had to judge it simply as good or bad, it was clearly on the bad side. But it wasn’t something he could just dismiss as bad. It was more like a deep, fundamental kind of self-contempt.

‘That one’s a pet dog, and I’m… a pet human.’

What difference was there between a monster dog eating from a bowl on a leash and him…

As soon as that thought took root, Haeri smacked both his cheeks with the palms of his hands.

Get a grip! Was this the time to be feeling sorry for yourself? Being a pet human for a chaebol was the dream of every office worker, damn it. What was there to complain about? Some people lived their whole lives without a single moment of luxury, only to die unfairly. And here he was, shamelessly whining about self-contempt.

“Haeri, what’s wrong?”

Watching Gom-i polish off the bowl, Jeong Mok rushed over. He cupped Haeri’s face with both hands and looked him over closely. His expression and manner were deadly serious.

“Why are you hitting your face?”

“Ah, a mosquito.”

Pressured by the atmosphere, Haeri made up an excuse about a mosquito that didn’t exist. He even glanced around at nothing to make it look convincing.

“A mosquito?”

“Ah, it’s gone now.”

“A mosquito, this time of year?”

It had been a careless excuse, but Jeong Mok took it seriously. He pulled out his phone and called somewhere.

“There are mosquitoes in the house. Call pest control immediately.”

Was pest control really necessary just because of a mosquito? Even if they found a cockroach egg case in the house, he wouldn’t expect this kind of fuss.

“Wouldn’t one or two be fine?”

“Not fine at all. Especially if that one bit you.”

At that moment Haeri was left speechless. A joke? Nonsense? No, madness. This was madness.

“Ah! There’s a mosquito here!”

Haeri pointed randomly and clapped his hands together.

“Did you get it?”

Lowering the phone, Jeong Mok asked. Haeri glanced at him, then opened his clasped hands just a crack toward himself and put on a show.

“Ugh. Disgusting.”

Then he rubbed his empty palms against his shorts.

“Wipe your hands.”

Jeong Mok pulled a tissue from nearby and handed it over. Haeri stopped wiping on his shorts, took the tissue, and rubbed his hands with it.

“It’s fine now, right? Tell them not to come.”

At this hour, he just wanted quiet.

“Alright.”

Jeong Mok made another call, and Haeri let out a sigh of relief inside.

‘I’d better watch what I say. This guy’s crazier than I thought.’

Once he hung up, Jeong Mok cleared away Gom-i’s spotless stainless steel bowl.

Instead of some master chef whipping something up, Jeong Mok himself started cooking.

The menu was simple: aged kimchi stew packed with Korean beef belly, rolled omelets, store-bought side dishes, and plain seaweed.

For a chaebol household, it was a very modest dinner. But Haeri, sick of bland hospital meals, ate it with great relish.

“You’re good at cooking.”

“I only make simple things.”

Jeong Mok smiled and cleared the empty dishes and brought out yogurt ice cream. Sweet after salty was always the best. Haeri scooped the cold ice cream, but suddenly something was wrong.

Wait. Wasn’t this strange? What kind of vice chairman personally cooked kimchi stew, served it, cleared the dishes, and even brought dessert? He hadn’t seen anything like this in dramas or movies either.

The way Jeong Mok did it all so naturally only made the realization come late. Haeri carefully set down his spoon.

“Do you always prepare meals yourself?”

“Yes. When I can, I do it.”

“Then what did I do?”

“Sometimes you helped, but mostly you just sat and watched TV.”

There was not the slightest hint of reproach in his answer about Haeri only receiving.

“Then what was my role?”

“Just being cute beside me?”

…So he really had been a pet human.

Honestly, being a pet human was the best fate in the world.

He was fed, given a place to sleep, clothed. He was doted on just for existing, without any effort. How comfortable, how nice was that. All he had to do was follow orders and not do what he was told not to do.

What everyone wanted most in life was a wealthy protector who showered them with unconditional affection. It was such a universal dream that even people with perfectly fine parents sometimes fantasized about being secretly the child of a chaebol, that their real parents would come for them. How much more desperate was it, then, for an orphan.

‘Get it together, Ahn Haeri. From now on, if he says strip, you strip, if he says bark, you bark.’

If there was any “effort” he should be making, it was figuring out how to keep being doted on.