Gunwoo had no proper childhood. He didn’t eat paper when he was young. He didn’t know how to swing and definitely wasn’t spoilt. He never made paper figurines. He never played with other kids.

It was simply because he had no parents. He was an orphan. There wasn’t really much to tell; his parents had just abandoned him when he was a baby and left him in front of an orphanage—typical orphan story.

However, it wasn’t exactly a happy story. He wasn’t adopted by anyone, and always had been living in the orphanage, until he was ten. Usually the kids would have been adopted by the age of six, but nobody really wanted him; the caretakers there just took care of him until then.

He was adopted by two kind souls, Mr. and Mrs. Lee. They were nice, and he was not. It wasn’t really that complicated, really. He wouldn’t listen to them, and all his job was at home was to make sure he didn’t get them into any legal trouble, and make sure he ate three meals a day.

Anything else, they decided, would be out of their control.

And with that he cultivated all sorts of bad habits. He smoked, he drank (secretly), learnt how to fight, all so carefully, such that he didn’t get caught for anything he did.

At one point he even got a tattoo, but a fake one of course, expertly done by his friends so it looked real. Nobody could do anything to him.

In school, he barely paid attention in class, always sat at the back, sometimes threw witty comments (but the teachers got used to it after a while) and never got good grades. He was just that kind of guy.

Needless to say, all the relationships he cared about were the friendships he had. Nothing else. No girls ever caught his attention even though he was adored (and sometimes obsessed with) by so many of them.

Love? Love was stupid.

Until he saw her.