Chapter 13

‘What kind of bizarre behavior is this?’

Gyuyeon frowned instantly.

Told to get away, yet Naru deliberately touched Geonhyuk, then glanced at him—testing his reaction. Spiteful.

‘He’s playing with me.’

Up until now, Gyuyeon had endured Naru’s innocent-seeming pranks. But this was different. This was deliberate provocation. After spreading ugly rumors, refusing to apologize, now he was trying to toy with him?

Rage boiled over.

He seized Naru’s arm. “Hey, are you kidding me?”

“W-well, this is—”

“You think I’m easy just because I’ve stayed quiet? Someone like you—!”

Jerking him forward, Gyuyeon dragged Naru toward the parking lot. Geonhyuk, too stunned by the sudden outburst, only stood watching their retreating backs.

Naru’s stomach tightened with fear. He’d only wanted to test Gyuyeon’s feelings, not drive him into fury. The grip on his arm hurt, and keeping up with Gyuyeon’s long strides made his legs ache—but the words hurt worse.

‘‘Someone like you…’’

It shouldn’t have stung. He was used to harsher insults. But if such a trivial phrase now pierced him, then living with Gyuyeon this past month must have healed him more than he realized—and left him more vulnerable.

Thud!

Gyuyeon shoved him into the passenger seat and slammed the door. He climbed into the driver’s side, expression grim.

Before, he would sigh and buckle Naru’s seatbelt for him. Today he didn’t.

Naru sat still, waiting, hoping.

“Buckle your seatbelt.”

“…”

Hope dashed, he pouted faintly and buckled up himself.

The drive home was silent. Gyuyeon’s eyes stayed fixed on the road. Maybe at first, indulging Naru’s antics had been a fluke—but he had no intention of tolerating them anymore.

‘To be toyed with by someone I brought in. Someone so insignificant.’

His pride was bruised raw. He should never have given Naru room to think he could play around. From now on, he would keep a tight rein.

‘Yeah. I loosened up too much. That’s why he got bold.’

Back home, he yanked Naru by the arm and marched him to the door. Once inside, he decided, Naru would never set foot out again.

“You seem to be mistaken just because I treated you a bit well.”

“…”

“From now on, I’ll control you properly. Be prepared.”

But Naru wasn’t shaken by the words. Unlike his previous owner, Gyuyeon fed him, let him use the bathroom, even gave him a warm bed. For someone warning him, he was still… kind.

Blankly blinking, Naru simply nodded and followed him inside. The moment the door opened, Gyuyeon’s familiar scent—fresh, warm, faintly heavy—wrapped around him.

‘Sniff, sniff… nice. This is why I like Gyuyeon’s home.’

It felt like stepping into a nest. Comforting.

In the living room, Gyuyeon turned him firmly to face him, sharp eyes locking onto his round, docile gaze.

“Eating, washing, even the smallest movements—everything. Don’t do anything without my permission.”

“…Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Yesss…”

Tail metaphorically drooping, Naru agreed easily. Asking permission wasn’t a hardship. Once, he’d even had to beg to ‘speak.’

If Gyuyeon could read his thoughts, he’d be furious. Fortunately, he couldn’t.

From that day, Gyuyeon began tightening his grip. He stopped Naru from napping, ordered him to stay still, shadowed his every move. Petty, exhausting. Sometimes he wondered if he was pathetic for it. But he couldn’t stop.

And Naru—secretly—was pleased.

“Hey, wake up.”

“Ugh, okay.”

Daytime naps ruined his nights. Having Gyuyeon wake him up himself felt almost… considerate.

“Where are you going? Sit. Don’t move.”

“…Yes.”

Being ordered to stay by his side made him happiest.

That was how dog-people were. Once they recognized someone as their owner, they gave their whole heart and wanted nothing more than to be close. And Gyuyeon, unknowingly, was fulfilling Naru’s every desire.

Commands like ‘Don’t move,’ ‘Stay by my side’—to Naru, they were bliss.

In the kitchen, Gyuyeon poured coffee and set out pound cake from the café. He meant to spend the day quietly.

The terrace was practically another café: potted greenery like a garden wall, a small table, a breeze drifting through.

He crossed his legs, sipping coffee, thoughtful.

Naru, chewing a macaron he’d been given, snatched a fly mid-air without hesitation.

“Throw it out.”

The twitching insect ruined the mood. Naru nodded, carried it to the bin, and tossed it.

Watching his back, Gyuyeon shook his head. ‘What kind of person is he? I can’t understand him at all.’

Then another thought intruded.

‘Her family still hasn’t contacted anyone after a month.’

Even if Naru lived alone, wasn’t it strange? Parents usually went searching when a son vanished—especially if they were wealthy. Something was off.

‘Should I look into it?’

An apology was long gone. Naru didn’t even seem to understand what he’d done wrong. Letting him go had been the logical step—but he’d missed the timing. And more importantly, Naru didn’t ‘want’ to leave.

Odd. Suspicious.

Decision made, Gyuyeon changed clothes and headed out. Errands needed doing.

“Where are you going?”

“You, stay home.”

“I want to go out…”

“Stay. Quiet.”

Naru sulked, dragging his steps, but couldn’t resist. He liked being trapped with Gyuyeon—just not being left behind.

When Gyuyeon put on his shoes, Naru clung close, like a shadow.

“Don’t kneel in front of me.”

“I was just waiting…”

“I said don’t.”

“Yes.”

Startled, Naru sprang upright. Gyuyeon sighed and left. Him disappointed face through the narrowing gap tugged faintly at him, but he ignored it. He couldn’t take him to the errand center.

The agency was in a dingy corner of Seoul. Old building, dusty stairs, yellowed film on the glass door. A smell that mixed dust and stale food clung to the air.

‘Looks like the kind of place you shouldn’t enter.’

He kicked the door open.

“Boss, come out.”

“Who’s—ugh! Who’s blocking the door at this hour?”

“You the boss?”

An employee, spoon still in hand, gawked at him.

“You contacted me a month ago. Don’t you remember my voice?”

Recognition dawned slowly. “Ah! That customer!”

“Don’t ‘customer’ me. I asked you to investigate someone. Song Naru. Where’s the file?”

The man fumbled, shuffling through papers. Under Gyuyeon’s sharp gaze, sweat beaded. The investigation had been half-baked; there wasn’t much. Just scraps of rumor.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, right. Lives alone. Parents bought him a house and kicked him out. Headstrong type.”

‘Headstrong? Naru? He’s stubborn, but not like that.’

“And?”

“Living off his parents’ money, showing off, but empty inside.”

Gyuyeon frowned. The words felt wrong.

Still, he paid—a thick wad of bills slammed on the table—and left. But unease gnawed at him.

The Naru he knew was clumsy, not calculating. Gentle at heart. If he made mistakes, it was ignorance, not arrogance. Could parents really expel a child like that?

Maybe that’s why he clung so hard. Maybe he’d never been loved.

Back in the car, Gyuyeon dropped his forehead onto the steering wheel, shame prickling. ‘Did I drag down someone already pitiful?’

Vrrr. Vrrr.

His phone buzzed. The caller ID showed his unused home line. Only Naru used that phone.

He answered. “Why are you calling?”

— Hey… when you come, macaron…

“What?”

— I want more macarons.

His voice timid, yet insistent. Gyuyeon let out a hollow laugh. Here he was, worrying—and he was calmly asking for sweets.

“Ha… damn it.”

— Hello? The macarons—sky blue and pink…!

He hung up irritably, tossing the phone aside.

‘I’m the idiot for worrying.’

With a scowl, he pressed the accelerator harder.