06

“You think these grades are okay?” Mr Kim hissed. “Bs? You think you can go out and party whenever you want, with my money? You’re nothing without me. You’re worthless. I’m ashamed to call you my son, how the hell do you think Bs will get you into a top college?”

“Abeoji—”

“SHUT UP WHEN I’M TALKING!” Mr Kim roared and I flinched. Kai, however, showed no emotion on his face. “I’ve let this slide for years because I thought you were just growing into yourself. You sleep with random women, you get pathetic grades — and only because we pay the education board to give you extra time on assignments! — and you make an of yourself.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” Kai responded. I jumped when a searing slap crossed his face and his head snapped to the side. Kai snorted and wiped his lip, his father’s wedding ring having cut it. “Huh. Thanks, dad.”

“Enough of this , Jongin,” Mr Kim spat, saying his son’s name like it was the vilest thing on earth. “When will you stop acting like a child and grow into a man? Do I have to beat the stupidity out of you, huh? Do I?”

“What, are you giving me the option for once?” Kai asked sarcastically. My chest tightened; was Mr Kim of Kim Consolidated beating his own son? Did anyone else know and if they did, why didn’t they do anything about it? Kyung seemed to be aware of the situation, now that I thought about it…why didn’t he say anything?

But just like that, my naïvety faded. Mr Kim was one of the most influential men in Seoul, if not all of South Korea. Going against him was like going against an army with only a water gun to protect yourself and fight back with. If Mr Kim was really hitting Kai, there was no one who could help him but himself. And maybe not even then.

“Aish…that mouth of yours is too much like your mother’s,” the man commented, shaking his head at Kai. “This is your last warning, Jongin. Come home like that again or get another B and I won’t hold back next time.”

“Whatever,” Kai snorted, turning around. 

“What was that?”

“Are you deaf now, too?” Kai snapped. Neither of us saw the punch coming. The brute force sent him to the floor. Mr Kim stood over him and slapped his son repeatedly. 

“Don’t you see I’m trying to help you!?” he demanded, grunting with every hit he delivered on Kai. “I just want you to be successful. I want you to not be such a ing waste of breath. Do you want your brother to get the company instead of you?” He grabbed his son by the neck and hauled him up.

I was about to push the door open to go help my friend but immediately thought against it. I’d probably only land Kai into more trouble. So, I swallowed my rage and stepped back so that I wouldn’t be seen.

“Do you!?” Mr Kim roared, squeezing Kai’s neck. Then, he dropped him. Kai fell to the floor and started coughing violently. “You know you’re my favourite, Kai-ya…your mother was always my favourite. You have to make her proud and take over the company. You can’t let that bastard, Jongup, win.” He never did address Kai with a sweet voice, using his real name. It took me a long time to notice that.

“He’s your son, too, you ,” Kai growled, though his voice was hoarse. “I’m the bastard, you’re actually married to his ing mother.” Mr Kim raised his fist. “Go on, hit me. You never really grew out of that habit, did you?” He slowly lowered his fist. “Talking about how you loved my mother…how she was your favourite…you’re the one who killed her, you sick —”

Another astounding slap was bestowed upon my friend. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed myself away from the door and ran back to Kai’s room. I felt like I’d just listened in on a conversation that never should have been heard by anyone other than those two. I had just touched someone’s dirty laundry and it revolted me.

What kind of people were the chaebol Kims, really? Beneath all the glamour and the riches, behind the scenes of all the parties and extravaganzas, under all the makeup and smiles and smooth lines. Who were they really? Did I even want to know?

I picked up my bag and turned to leave the room but rammed into a body. 

“What are you doing here?” Kai asked, his voice low and calm, but ever so cold. I slowly lifted my eyes up to look at him. The skin around his black eye was swelling and darkening, his face was red from the brutal slaps and his lip was cut in more than one place. He had another cut on his left cheekbone. “Yah. Are you deaf or something?”

I gulped and shook my head, “I just…I wanted to…wish you a happy birthday.” His face twisted into one of disgust. “I got you a—”

“Get out,” he hissed, stepping aside to let me through. 

“But—”

“God, are you ing stupid!?” he barked and I flinched, hunching my shoulders. “Get the out before I throw you out!”

“K-Kai…you’re just angry…” I didn’t know where I was going with this. “Your father…” I should have shut my mouth, I really should have.

He clenched his jaw, “Hasn’t anyone ever told you to mind your own business? Why the were you listening in on our conversation?”

“Conversation?” I repeated incredulously. “That was a beating, Kai! He has no right to talk to you like that or to treat you like—” I was cut short by Kai grabbing me by the shoulders and shoving me against the wall. Thankfully, the back of my head didn't hit the wall too hard.

“Stop. Talking,” he hissed so lethally that I felt my voice wane completely. “Stop acting like you know what you’re talking about. You don’t know me and you don’t know my father. You never saw anything. Understand?” My mouth was open in shock and I was shaking slightly with fear. “Understand!?”

I nodded quickly, my eyes beginning to sting. 

“M-mianhe,” I whispered, willing my tears not fall. Kim Jongin hated crying girls. I didn’t want to anger him further. “M-mianhe, Kai-ya. I’ll…go.” He stepped back and released me. I walked behind him to pick my bag up from the floor, where it had fallen when he shoved me. I saw the plastic case on his bed but before I could pick it up, he did so.

“What’s this?” he asked. He sniffed it. “It reeks of poverty.”

“I got you fried chicken,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper. “For…for your birth…never mind. It was stupid. Never mind.” I reached for it but he held it back, keeping it away from me. “Don’t throw it away, please.” I looked at him pleadingly.

“It’s mine,” he said tautly. “Isn’t it?” I nodded. “Then I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Don’t throw it away, Kim Jongin,” I repeated, this time with more force. “An ajumma gave it to me…to give to you. She was nice and it’s rude to not make the most of her gift.” He tilted his head and studied me for a while. "You know what? Do whatever you want with it. It's your style, isn't it?" He didn't reply and I pressed my lips together, and turned around. His hand shot out and he grabbed my wrist. “Yah—”

“Are you angry at me?” he asked, all hostility gone from his voice. Frankly, I was a bit thrown back by his question and the sudden change in his attitude. What the hell did he think? I looked him up and down, then nodded. “Kim Nara. Are you…afraid of me now?”

Maybe. “No,” I replied, then reconsidered lying. “Maybe. I don’t know how to feel about you, Kim Jongin. You’re not an easy person to like.” He smirked hollowly and nodded. 

“I know,” he admitted. “I can’t help the way I am…I’m too much like my father.” I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true, that he wasn’t at all like his father…but then I’d be lying. I saw snippets of Mr Kim in Kai every time he rudely rejected a girl’s confession or bullied a classmate until they transferred schools.

Kim Jongin was mean to his friends, cruel to his peers and unfathomably heinous to his enemies.

“You don’t have to be,” I said and he looked up from the plastic case. “You don’t have to be…like your father. You could be nice.”

He snorted.

A question pricked at my mind.

“Kai-ya,” I looked at him, really looked at him, “why do you hate your birthday so much?” He dropped my wrist and looked away. “Answer me, just this once. I promise I’ll leave afterwards.” He was silent for a long time. I started to think that maybe he forgot the question or he forgot how he was going to answer.

“I was nine years old,” he finally answered, still not looking at me. “I was nine years old and she’d gotten into an argument with my father. He was cheating on her but she was the idiot for thinking he wouldn’t. After all, he cheated on his ex wife with her. So, they argued, he hit her and she fell.”

Another long silence followed; I kept my mouth shut.

My heart was beating at a hundred beats per minute.

“She hit her head on the corner of the coffee table,” he continued, his voice going so quiet I had to strain to pick it up. “He apologised and he showered her…with useless…. Five days later, it was my birthday. She was walking down the stairs with my birthday cake and she collapsed. She died from internal bleeding in her brain.”

“Kai-ya…” I murmured, seeing how red his eyes were. Without thinking, I reached up to his cheek. His eyes flicked to me and a tear slid down his face. I wiped it away with my thumb. “Mianhe, Jongin-ah.” I put my arms over his shoulders, going up on my tiptoes, and hugged him.

He smiled into my shoulder, “She used to say my name just like that.” He pulled back and stared at me so intensely, I thought he was really looking into my soul. “Softly…not with disgust. Or anger, or shame or…or…” He clamped his mouth shut and looked away again. I stepped back and cupped his face, forcing him to look at me.

“Don’t let your father hurt you anymore, Jongin-ah,” I pleaded, his tanned skin. “Don’t let him treat you like…like garbage. Get self defence classes, do something! Beat him up!” He laughed, and it was real and hearty. 

“Kim Nara,” he said warmly, smiling — not smirking — at me. “Now I see why Baekhyun hyung and Chanyeol hyung keep you around. I see why Chanyeol hyung called you perfect.” 

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