At a café near Haran Market’s bus stop, Sihoo and a man sat across from each other, drinks in hand. Sihoo nudged the man’s glass. “Ice is melting. Drink it while it’s cold.”
Sihoo smiled lightly, while the man, Hwijun, fidgeted awkwardly. Sihoo sipped his iced café latte, recalling their encounter moments ago.
“Long time no see,” Sihoo had said.
“Kang Sihoo?” Hwijun stammered.
“Know how much I wanted to meet you?” Sihoo asked.
“Why me?”
“To pay you back for what you did. Back then, I held back, but in high school, I realized how stupid that was.”
Sihoo had dreamed of confronting Hwijun, his middle school bully. The pain lingered through high school, and he’d asked around for Hwijun’s whereabouts, but no one knew where he’d gone after middle school. Now, face-to-face, Sihoo wanted to see remorse, to settle the score.
But running away the moment I recognized him? That surprised me more. Sihoo had chased him, grabbing his collar. “If you feel any guilt, come with me.”
That’s how they ended up at the café.
Sihoo spoke first. “Thanks to three years of your bullying, I found my inner strength. Should I thank you for that, Hwijun?”
Hwijun, speechless, stared down. In elementary school, they were classmates, but in middle school, Hwijun turned tormentor. Driven by a need for his mother’s attention after his parents’ divorce, he stole a classmate’s wallet, only to be caught by Sihoo. When confronted, he lashed out, rallying school delinquents to isolate and harass Sihoo. At first, Hwijun enjoyed it, but guilt crept in as Sihoo grew quieter.
He was like poison, Hwijun thought. Sihoo never reacted, his silence unnerving. By eighth grade, the bullying escalated, even involving older students. Hwijun remembered Sihoo’s piercing gaze at graduation. I knew we’d meet again.
Rubbing his face, Hwijun answered Sihoo’s question. “I do food reviews.”
Sihoo’s lip curled. “You know Ddakddaguri?”
“Yeah, the ‘Fact Check’ YouTuber, right? Big channel,” Hwijun said, nodding. His own channel was nearing 100,000 subscribers, but Ddakddaguri’s million-plus was another league.
Sihoo’s gaze sharpened, sending a chill down Hwijun’s spine. That’s the look he gave when he caught me stealing. It was the same look that got Hwijun called to the teacher’s office with Sihoo. His mind screamed warnings.
Hwijun broke the silence. “Sihoo, this might sound like an excuse, but…”
Sihoo smirked. “Go ahead. I’ll hear you out.”
Listening quietly, Sihoo waited until Hwijun finished. “I heard your excuses. But was I your emotional punching bag?”
Hwijun bowed his head, unable to respond.
Sihoo closed his eyes, recalling the despair after losing his parents. Hwijun, though, had endured his parents’ divorce younger. At least your parents are alive, Sihoo muttered.
Hwijun’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” he whispered, guilt weighing heavier.
Sihoo’s emotions churned. He’d hoped never to see Hwijun again, yet part of him wanted to lash out. Sigh. Recalling his father’s words—Hate the sin, not the sinner. Give three chances—Sihoo’s gaze hardened. “Let’s settle the past.”
Hwijun’s eyes bulged.
At Sihoo’s house, he tossed Hwijun an ice pack from the fridge. Sitting on the sofa, Hwijun nursed his bruised face, muttering, “Crazy bastard, even dogs would bow to you.”
Sihoo, brewing tea, scoffed. “That’s an insult to dogs. I’m nicer.”
Hwijun snorted. “They say reformed quiet kids are scary. You’re proof.”
Sihoo grinned, feeling lighter. “They say enemies meet on a single bridge. A gentleman’s revenge isn’t late, even after ten years.”
“So this was revenge? Feel better now?” Hwijun grumbled.
“Hell yeah,” Sihoo said, smirking. “Next, I’ll find that senior who joined you in bullying me—”
“He’s dead,” Hwijun interrupted.
“What?” Sihoo’s eyes widened.
Hwijun explained the senior’s death, mentioning a strange note in his will about a “shadow” chasing him.
“Drugs?” Sihoo asked.
“Don’t know. That’s what I heard,” Hwijun said, icing his face and glancing around. “You live alone?”
“Yeah, my parents died in an accident senior year,” Sihoo said.
Hwijun recalled Sihoo’s earlier mutter about his parents. Guilt surged again. Sipping the tea Sihoo offered, he asked, “What’s this? Not poisoned, right?”
Sihoo’s eyes flashed. “I’m a chef, not a poisoner. You think I’d taint food?”
“Chef?” Hwijun blinked.
Sihoo explained he ran 56804, four months into ownership, and mentioned Ddakddaguri’s upcoming visit. Hwijun frowned. “That ‘Fact Check’ channel? Nothing good comes from them.”
“Why not? Just eating and reviewing, right?” Sihoo asked.
Hwijun leaned in, sharing what he knew about Ddakddaguri and the “Fact Check” channel.
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