Chapter 4 | The Second Man

“Hey, I don’t know why you pulled something like that earlier,” Jaemin heard Mark Lee said with a stoic face, both hands inside his pockets as the latter approached Jeno’s table, “but that was really uncalled for.”

It was lunch time. Most of the students have gone to the cafeteria to buy food and eat, while some stayed inside their rooms to have their packed lunch there, just like Jaemin and his best friend. From the corner of his eye, he saw Park Jisung, who was seated somewhere in his right, was just about to have his lunch with Jeno when Mark approached them.

By that time, he noticed that the students who were peacefully enjoying their meal were now engaged with the two’s possible not-so-physical brawl. He turned his head for a second in the subtlest way and saw Zhong Chenle, who was eating his packed lunch beside Jeno, suddenly stopped chewing when he heard Mark talk.

“What, are you his boyfriend or something?” he heard Jeno asked smugly, eyeing the person in front of him. This time, his eyes were on them, not believing what he was seeing. Jeno then rose from his seat. “Does everyone in this school love sticking their nose where it obviously doesn’t belong?”

Silence.

“Look, I’m not looking for a fight, okay?” Mark ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” Jeno flatly stated, shifting his eyes from the boy before him to Jaemin before walking past them, bumping the Mark’s shoulder deliberately and exiting the room. Jisung scurried away, following Jeno in a hurry.

The first thing Jaemin noticed as soon as his eyes left Jeno was Mark Lee’s clenching fist before the latter’s clenched jaw. He stood up, facing the latter. “A-Are you okay?”

Mark nodded his head, although his expression and body language stated otherwise.

“You didn’t have to do that...”

“I know,” Mark muttered, turning to look at him, “but I wanted to.”

Not knowing what to say, Jaemin looked down, staring at his packed lunch like it was the most interesting in the world all of a sudden. His gaze then landed on Donghyuck who had stopped from eating. His best friend was just staring at them with an unreadable expression, and Jaemin couldn’t help but look away.

Jaemin didn’t say anything more. He sat down, taking his chopstick, continuing his interrupted lunch. He didn’t want Donghyuck to read it all wrong.

-

Inside the Young Bakeshop, Taeyong diligently wiped the surface of each table after another. The bakeshop was not crowded. People usually go to the shop around three in the afternoon, mostly elementary and middle school students, to eat there. Since catered toward the kids, its interior had a rather child-like ambiance with the walls and the floor painted with pastel blue and pink, respectively. Hanging on the walls were paintings of different types of cupcakes, bread, and drinks. Tables were shaped like freshly baked cupcakes in the morning whereas the seats were cozy, two-seater sofa where anyone could relax.

The entire ceiling was painted with sky blue with a little bit of white here and there as if portraying the morning sky. Right at the very center, a three descending airplane chandelier was hanging. The entrance, which was a pastel blue door with an animated character eating a cupcake, had a pair wind chimes designed like a pair of owls.

At the counter, the long, glass display of the bakery exhibits Korean breads such as soboro, a streusel bread with liquid chocolate filling; sora bread, a soft, lightly baked bread shaped like a shell with mocha filling; gyeongju, a bun filled with red bean paste; bongeo bbang, a carp-shaped bread snack filled fresh egg and cheese toppings; and lastly, the bakery’s best seller and most popular among the customers be they kids, students, or old-aged, the Dongyoung Mochi Bbang, a glutinous bread filled with any type of ice cream flavour with the owner’s, Kim Doyoung, animated face as its garnishing. Desserts like cakes and cupcakes are also among the popular food in the bakery.

The bakery is also famous for its traditional brewed coffee and tea. In spite of that, iced coffee, lattes, and milk teas are quite the attraction as well. For these reasons, the bakery gets a lot of orders within the district on a daily basis. Sometimes, they even get orders outside.

As he thoroughly mapped the floor, the ground becoming spotless and pristine, Lee Taeyong halted from his tracks when the chimes across the room caught his attention. A gentleman, standing about a hundred and seventy-six centimeters, walked gracefully inside the shop wearing a blinding, almost healing, smile, showing off his perfectly aligned teeth. The guy had a slightly shaggy, side-parted, fiery hair like the color of autumn leaves that perfectly matched his bright orange shirt.

The man’s aura was dazzling, almost as if the headlights of an oncoming vehicle freezing a deer in place.

On the other side of the room, Winwin noticed the guy right away, wearing the widest smile he had ever own that day.

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Nakamoto is here!” Winwin shouted excitedly, running to the storage room.

Not more than seven seconds later, Kim Dongyoung emerged from the said room, dusting off his hands on his pants before disappearing into the kitchen. He then came back, holding two Young Bakeshop paper bag filled with a wide variety of bread. Doyoung moved to where Yuta was standing, extending both of his hands to give the, Taeyong presumed, orders.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Taeyong heard Doyoung say in aggravation, playfully slapping the shoulder of the man of Japanese descent, as he watched from the sidelines. “How’s life been for Chef Nakamoto Yuta?”

“I’ll be opening my own restaurant,” Yuta said confidently. “I quit my last job.”

“What?” Doyoung asked in surprise. “But weren’t you earning enough?”

“I was,” Yuta retorted back, “but I don’t really like the idea of working for someone else, you know?”

Doyoung nodded in understanding.

“My job was great, my colleagues were all easy to be friends with, and my boss was really nice,” Yuta said, “but I want to start my own business like you did. I’ve been wanting to do it ever since. It’s just I was afraid to take the risk and fail before, but I’m a hundred percent sure now.”

“Why didn’t you tell the last time we met?”

“I was considering on telling you.” Yuta laughed. “I guess I just wanted to surprise everyone.”

Doyoung playfully rolled his eyes at that, to which he earned a bashful laugh from Yuta, and then remembered something.

“Oh,” Doyoung spoke, “weren’t you looking for an artist?”

Yuta nodded.

“What was it for again?”

“Do you remember that friend I introduced to you back in university, Ten?” Yuta asked expectantly. Doyoung nodded upon realization “Well, he’s coming to Korea and staying here for good. He’s been wanting to become an author, and guess what?”

“What?”

“When he went to Chicago for a seminar where he talked about Southeast Asian traditional dance, he met the president of a well-known publishing company here in Korea and managed to convince him to publish his work. I forgot the company name, though,” Yuta said. “As a welcome gift, I want to give him a drawing or a painting of himself. You know, a design for his new apartment.”

“I know just the right person for that,” Doyoung announced before calling Taeyong over who bowed to both Yuta and Doyoung. “This is Taeyong. I think I’ve mentioned him to you before, have I?”

Smiling knowingly with a glint in his eyes, Yuta responded, “I’m sure you have.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, you better stop, okay?” Doyoung said in a huff.

Taeyong looked at both of them cluelessly. What he didn’t know is that Doyoung has mentioned him to Yuta countless of times before, multiple times back in university when Doyoung was still on the process of moving on and several just recently when the latter was feeling sympathetic for his best friend’s despondence in the recent years. Despite of that, however, Doyoung has never introduced him and Yuta to each other due to conflict in schedule, because he and Doyoung were always busy running the shop and Yuta was such a workaholic person.

When Doyoung and Yuta would go out for a drink, Doyoung never failed to ask him if he would love to join the two, but he always refused. And Doyoung got it. He has a son to look after and tend to, so it was fine and Doyoung understood.

Yuta pitied him, just like any other normal person would once they hear his story, and yet, upon seeing Taeyong close, the Japanese man almost felt something different.

Taeyong’s beauty, even with half of his face hidden by a mask, was like a lone star in a cloudless night. It was to the highest of heights, like the highest mountain nobody has ever been able to climb. His eyes, although dark, unfold the most radiant ones Yuta had ever seen in his entire life. And when Taeyong smiled under his mask, despite being half hearted, Yuta knew he had fallen into the rabbit hole.

“Hi,” Taeyong greeted in a soft, mushy voice, stooping his torso and head by thirty degrees, “I’m Lee Taeyong. It’s nice to meet you.”

For a second, Yuta was distracted by Taeyong’s gaze. And when Doyoung cleared his throat, snapping him into reality, he tried to gain his composure immediately by mimicking the gesture. “Yuta, Nakamoto Yuta. I’m more than pleased to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots of things about you.”

“Have you?” Taeyong asked, eyeing Doyoung innocently on the side. “I hope they’re good things.”

“Amazing things,” Yuta said cheekily as he smiled at the guy.

“Okay, I think I’ve mentioned to you that Taeyong is an artist, a spectacular one at that,” Doyoung exclaimed, trying to save Taeyong, whose face was red, but failing miserably because the latter’s face became even more red. He then put his arm on his shoulder. “Taeyong here has been accepting commissions recently. He’s exceptional in both drawing and painting.”

“Would you paint my friend?” Yuta asked, “I’m willing to pay.”

“U-uhm, well,” Taeyong stuttered, “I only accept commissioned drawings for now because I don’t have paint materials...”

“That’s not a problem. I’ve got it covered.” Yuta waved off his hand. “So, would you?”

“I guess...” Taeyong trailed off in embarrassment, his eyes landing on anything but Yuta’s.

“Great.” Yuta grinned, taking out his phone from his pocket and opening it. He then extended his hand that was holding the phone, expecting for Taeyong to take it. When the latter looked at the phone in his hand then his face in confusion, Yuta said, “Type in your number so we can go out and buy art supplies for the commissioned painting.”

Dumbfounded, Taeyong took the phone with both of his hands, typing his number before giving the phone back to its owner.

“I’ll text you, okay?” Yuta asked to which Taeyong nodded in response. “I’m gonna go ahead now. Thank you for this, Doyo.”

“You’re welcome because it’s paid,” Doyoung retorted.

Yuta laughed at that. He then turned to Taeyong. “It’s really a pleasure to meet you. I’m looking forward to meeting you again.”

With reddened cheeks, Taeyong said, “Me too. See you.”

“Hey, Winwin-sshi!” Yuta yelled, “I’ll go ahead now.”

“Bye!” Winwin yelled back enthusiastically from the counter.

“Uh, thank you, Doyoung...” Taeyong trailed off softly.

“It’s nothing. I feel really bad that I can’t give you a raise, so I’m doing this for you and Jaemin,” Doyoung said. “How is he, by the way?”

“He’s all right. He just started school, and I think he’s doing just fine.”

“He and Donghyuck haven’t been dropping off lately. Ah, those kids, I miss them already.”

“I feel so bad, though.” Taeyong let out a long sigh. “A week ago, Donghyuck accidentally mentioned that Jaemin’s been selling snacks in his class because he wants to get into cram school.”

“What?” Doyoung looked at Taeyong in shock. “How long has he been doing it?”

“Since middle school. No wonder why he had all those money when we need them.”

“Is this why you asked for a raise and started accepting commissions again?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong confirmed, his eyes glistening as he stared out the window of the shop, watching passersby in a blur. “Today is his first day in school, and I went to his room to wake him up, then I saw lots of snacks at the corner of his room. He thinks I don’t know what he does.”

“Isn’t that prohibited in that school, selling anything without the permission of the higher ups?”

“Donghyuck told me Jaemin asks for permission from his homeroom teacher first,” Taeyong said as a group of middle schoolers went inside the shop. “I don’t want him to shoulder anything. I want him to focus on his studies without thinking of any burden. I want him to study comfortably and get into a great university where he can finish his degree.”

“Jaemin is just a thoughtful kid. He just doesn’t want you to overwork yourself,” Doyoung stated in dismissal as more and more customers entered the shop before going to the kitchen.

With a long exasperated sigh, Taeyong walked up to a group of kids and asked for their orders with a forced yet seemingly genuine smile on his masked face.

-

Twenty minutes away from the busy shop, the main library sits on the seventh floor, north side, of Third District of Seoul High School for Science and the Arts—a home to a diverse range of books from world and Korean literature, history, religion, art, and philosophy to mathematics, technology, and other sciences, amounting to over five thousand textbooks and some groundbreaking Korean novels.

The library spans for about five hundred square feet, a half and a quarter of its room occupied by shelves that are separated by sections, while the remaining quarter is where the students study and read.

At the far end corner, Zhong Chenle was sitting alone, eyes fixated on the book he was holding as he listened to music, earphones on his ears. He just got out of the class and was killing time because he didn’t want to be forty minutes early to his after school classes, so he’d figured he’d just spend some time reading. It’s been his routine since last year—go to school early in the morning, spend about forty minutes in the library, travel to the cram school for twenty minutes, and then study again until nine in the evening. After that, he would go home, eat first, do his homework second, shower, check his social media accounts, and then sleep. The cycle goes on. On Saturdays, he goes to cram school and stay there for six hours—double the time he would usually spend on weekdays. And then Sunday would be his only free day.

In all honesty, it was pressuring for Chenle. Being the only son of his parents, all the responsibilities are on his shoulder, and as he grows up, it only piles up, weighing him down even more. But he’d gotten used to it— or at least that’s what he’d been trying to tell himself. He’d barely get any sleep at all, and when he does, he usually wakes up to slamming of doors, broken glassware, or deafening arguments. And every single time any of those happen, he tries to sleep it off.

As a kid, Chenle and his family used to live in Shanghai, the biggest city in terms of population and the economic center of China. Home to twenty-six million people, Shanghai became one of China’s powerhouse cities due to its peoples’ exceptional skills in shipping and trading, as well as its favorable geographical location. Over the past century, it gave birth to its futuristic skyline, overlooking the high towers, breathtaking pavilions, and well-funded public places but also maintaining its historical authenticity.

The Zhong family was rich, not filthy rich but rich enough to buy their desires in life, with Mr. Zhong being a former manager of a fishing port in the eastern Shanghai and Mrs. Zhong being a housewife. They had a stable life for years until Mrs. Zhong became involved in an investment scam, in which she lost almost everything in their bank account. Enraged yet determined to go back in tracks, Mr. Zhong continued working, expecting all their lost money to be earned after sometime. However, when people who claimed to be scammed by Mrs. Zhong started showing up in their house, they had no choice but to flee the country.

It was a good thing that despite having a lavish lifestyle before, Chenle has always been a good student and did not forsake his Korean classes back in China. He was able to adapt and adjust in his first year in the country and managed to snatch a scholarship grant. And now, he is his parents’ only hope for them to get back on track.

A few minutes into reading the novel in his hands, Chenle felt a figure walk past him but spared no attention. When he looked up, he saw Park Jisung from his class, sitting right across from him with a faint smile on his face, watching him. The latter had emerged from the doors and spotted him when he wasn’t looking.

Surprised and frowning, Chenle removed one of his earphones attached to his ears and looked around, seeing lots of vacant seats. When he was about to tell him off, Jisung beat him to it, saying, “Hello.”

“Uh, hi,” Chenle greeted back sheepishly. “Do you need anything?”

“Me?” Jisung replied. “Nothing. Why, am I now allowed to sit here?”

“N-No, that’s not what I mean.”

Jisung stifled a laugh. “Just kidding. I just want to apologize for Jeno-hyung’s behavior toward you.”

“I-It’s alright.” Chenle waved his hand off, feeling his blood rush through his face. “It’s understandable. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to him for what I did.”

“No, Jeno-hyung is really just impatient and hot-headed, but he’s not that bad,” Jisung said, to which Chenle nodded in understanding. “So, I’m assuming you’re free right now?”

“Actually, only for twenty minutes right now,” Chenle stated, checking his wristwatch, “because I have to leave for cram school by then.”

“Ah, then when are you free?”

“Why?”

“Just tell me.”

“Three in the afternoon onwards every Saturday and whole day on Sundays.”

“Give me your phone.” Jisung extended one of his hands as Chenle reluctantly placed his phone there. Several seconds later, Jisung handed back Chenle’s phone and said, “As a compensation for Jeno-hyung’s ery, I will treat you somewhere on Sunday.”

“It’s alright! You don’t have to.” Chenle placed the book on the table and waved off both of his hands in rejection. He usually stays at home on Sundays playing the secondhand keyboard his father got him on his birthday last year, because it was his only free time. His parents would find it weird for him to go out on that particular day, but he figured he could always just tell he’ll be going out with a friend, which is what he’ll actually be doing just in case he agrees to the proposition. They’d be happy to see him actually go out with a friend, something he hasn’t done before since he’s always been a wallflower. However, Chenle thought, he and Jisung aren’t even friends to begin with. “It’s perfectly fine. You don’t have to do anything. Just let it go.”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I said, okay,” Jisung flat-out said. “What are you reading?”

“Oh.” And here Chenle thought the guy was going to insist on hanging out. Not that he was disappointed, no. It wasn’t that. With how Jisung acts, he just thought he was going to be a pain in the , like someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “势不可挡.”

“A Chinese novel?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not much of a talker, eh?” Jisung asked with a hint of playfulness, but the boy across from him only stayed silent. He then noticed him fiddling with his fingers.

He’s nervous, Jisung thought. And the latter didn’t fail to notice how Chenle’s gaze was moving around a lot behind those pair of glasses. It was unexpected. He didn’t really thought he’d be sitting across the guy who his cousin shouted at in anger. Zhong Chenle seemed like a weak, closed off person. Just someone he doesn’t see being friends with. Moreover, the kid looks like he would cry if he ever gets a ninety in an exam with a hundred items.

However, as soon as Jisung’s gaze landed on Chenle who was sitting alone in the library, his milky, white skin being hit by the sun as it sets, accentuating his light, brown hair, deep, chocolate eyes, and saintlike face underneath those pair of glasses, Jisung failed to stop his feet from moving on its own and ended up sitting across the boy.

Noticing the Park Jisung’s stare, Chenle pretended to be engaged on what he’s reading before checking his wristwatch...again. He then looked at Jisung and said, “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

Jisung nodded. “I’ll see you around then.”

“See you,” Chenle responded as soon as he finished packing his things. Without looking back, he rose from his seat and trudged his way out of the library but hear Jisung shout at him.

“Text me!”

Chenle then heard a faint bell that was probably the librarian’s doing. He shouldn’t be shouting inside the library, he thought, shaking his head in disapproval.