IH Ch 11

Chapter 11

The boy who had come up to the table sat down on the slightly pulled-out chair and stared at the steaming rice and meat before glancing back at Hwang Jae-i. Perhaps too entranced by the food, this time he didn’t hide his face behind his hair. That, at least, was an improvement. Hwang Jae-i tapped the table lightly with his fingertip.

“Eat.”

“……”

Only then did the boy cautiously reach for the spoon. Gripping it like a fist, he scooped up some fried rice and put it into his mouth. After chewing tentatively for a moment, his eyes widened, and he immediately scooped up a large bite and stuffed it in.

Now he’s eating. Since he’d prepared it for him to eat anyway, Hwang Jae-i figured he didn’t need to worry anymore. But what should he do with the rest? The meat could be reheated and eaten later. The salad should probably be eaten today, but he wasn’t in the mood for it. He considered giving that to the boy as well… No, he decided to just let him eat what was in front of him for now and was about to step out when he suddenly stopped.

He truly didn’t want to care anymore. But—

“……”

Hwang Jae-i tilted his head. The boy was now practically burying his nose in the food as he hurriedly stuffed rice and meat into his mouth. At first, it seemed like he was just eating quickly—but no, this wasn’t eating. He was simply cramming whatever he could into his mouth without care.

“Hey—what are you—”

Just then, their eyes met—the boy had shoved a large piece of meat into his mouth, puffing out his cheeks, and when he noticed Hwang Jae-i looking, his shoulders flinched dramatically. He took a sharp breath in, and then erupted into a fit of coughing, spitting out the meat from his mouth. It hadn’t even been properly chewed; the half-folded chunk rolled across the table.

“Cough, cough, hack, hic…”

The coughing didn’t stop with a single bout. His entire body jolted with each hack, to the point that it seemed like his ribs might crack. His pale, almost transparent cheeks flushed red in an instant, and Hwang Jae-i had a gut feeling.

He immediately lifted the boy from his chair. As the boy flailed in surprise, he gave his butt a firm smack—loud enough to make a sound—and spoke sternly.

“Stay still.”

“……”

Hwang Jae-i headed for the nearest bathroom. As soon as he set the boy down in front of the toilet, the boy bent in half and began to vomit.

Whatever he’d managed to consume in that short time was a considerable amount. Some of it came out in chunks, barely chewed. Hwang Jae-i wondered why he was even watching this, but couldn’t look away. Once he saw that the boy was gasping, seemingly out of things to throw up, he flushed the toilet and gently nudged him aside by the arm.

The boy stood there in a daze, apparently shocked by having vomited everything he had just eaten. Hwang Jae-i stood him in front of the sink and said curtly,

“Rinse your mouth.”

At least he wasn’t coughing anymore. If he had continued coughing like that earlier, he might’ve choked on the unchewed food stuck in his throat. That would’ve been even more troublesome. If the guy he’d dragged here alive ended up dying, the Association President would be the first to raise hell.

Hwang Jae-i looked at the boy, who had his head hanging low. He’d told him to rinse his mouth—so why was he just standing there? With all that long, ghost-like hair hanging down, he couldn’t even see his face or expression. Irritated, Hwang Jae-i raised his hand to brush the hair away, but the boy flinched in surprise and raised both arms defensively.

“……”

The way he recoiled before even being touched made Hwang Jae-i’s face harden instantly.

To someone like Hwang Jae-i—who was treated as a dangerous menace no matter where he went—this kind of reaction wasn’t unfamiliar. Most of the time, even just standing still resulted in speculative headlines about him. So, mistaking a raised hand as a threat to hit him wasn’t that unusual. But—it left a bitter taste.

His face tense, Hwang Jae-i clenched the hand he had raised, and then he heard a small sob.

“……”

Seeing the boy’s slightly trembling shoulders, Hwang Jae-i let out an incredulous sigh.

Seriously? He couldn’t even eat properly and vomited it all up—yet now he was crying because he thought Hwang Jae-i was going to hit him, when all he was trying to do was help with his hair? It made him out to be some kind of monster. Gritting his teeth, Hwang Jae-i glared.

Whether he sensed the glare or not, the boy’s rigid body trembled and then inhaled sharply. Then, in a whisper so small it was barely audible, he muttered something utterly pathetic.

“…Hungry.”

“……”

“My… I’m hungry…”

He sniffled and repeated the phrase in a tearful voice, and before he realized it, Hwang Jae-i relaxed his clenched hand.

After murmuring “I’m hungry” a few more times, the boy stopped speaking altogether. He just trembled and sniffled. Hwang Jae-i still couldn’t see his face through that messy curtain of hair, but he didn’t need to. It was obvious how pitiful he looked.

Holding back a breath that had risen to his throat, Jae-i turned on the faucet.

“Wash your face and rinse your mouth.”

“……”

“I’ll give you food, so hurry up.”

Perhaps he picked up on the unspoken warning not to make him repeat himself. Or maybe it was just the promise of food. Either way, the boy, who had been standing rigidly, finally began to move, however sluggishly. As he bent over to splash water on his face, his hair got in the way, so Hwang Jae-i reached over from behind and held some of it up.

The boy hesitated for a moment as if he might look back, then stopped himself, cupped some water in his hands, washed his face, and rinsed his mouth. After repeating the process thoroughly a few times, he straightened his back. Hwang Jae-i grabbed a towel hanging nearby and tossed it over the boy’s small head.

He caught it and wiped his face, then brought it to his mouth and looked at Jae-i with slightly raised eyes. He was watching Jae-i, as if trying to gauge his reaction—but it was obvious what he wanted. He wanted food.

Meeting those eyes without looking away, Hwang Jae-i watched as the boy’s dark pupils flickered side to side, then slowly lowered. He dropped his gaze to the floor, as if already resigned to disappointment. Like someone used to giving up.

“Follow me.”

Hwang Jae-i went out first. Back in the kitchen, he cleared the mess from the table. He gathered the containers, spilled rice, and other debris into a recycling bag, then wiped the table with wet tissues.

He stored the untouched food in the fridge and took out a packaged porridge from the freezer. It was rock solid. He put it in the microwave for a minute and, while waiting, took out a pot. Pouring in a bit of bottled water, he began to boil it—his attention fixed entirely on the slow, snail-like movement he felt behind him. He could sense the boy inching closer, but didn’t rush him.

Once the water started boiling, Jae-i added the thawed porridge. A few minutes later, the warm aroma of food began to fill the kitchen. When it was properly heated, he transferred it to a bowl and turned around—there the boy was, standing at the kitchen entrance like he was being punished. Jae-i gave him a nod. Apparently, he understood that as a sign, and timidly returned to the chair he’d sat in earlier.

Hwang Jae-i pulled out a chair beside him and sat down. The boy seemed surprised—he hadn’t expected him to sit next to him—but Jae-i ignored it. He placed the bowl of porridge in front of himself and stirred it briskly with a spoon. After about thirty stirs, a loud gulping sound came from beside him.

“It’s hot.”

If he left him alone, he’d probably try to gulp it all down straight from the bowl.

Some of the people in that cult had diminished cognitive abilities. Judging by how he ate ravenously and even soiled himself earlier, this one might appear normal but clearly had deficiencies somewhere.

Pausing his stirring, Jae-i raised his head. The boy, with a towel draped over his shoulders, flinched and quickly averted his gaze. Pretending not to have been watching, he looked elsewhere. His side profile was soft, with cautious eyes, a wrinkled nose, and lips pressed tightly together.

“Before you eat, stick out your tongue to see if it’s hot. And chew each bite at least ten times before you swallow.”

“……”

“If you swallow it without chewing again like earlier, you won’t get to eat any more.”

Maybe that last line hit him hard. The boy flinched but then nodded, and only then did Jae-i slide the bowl of porridge toward him. The boy, watching Jae-i carefully, gently reached for the spoon in the bowl. He held it in that awkward, childish way, which made Jae-i’s brows twitch—but he didn’t say anything.

The boy scooped up a full spoon of porridge and tentatively stuck out his tongue. Apparently too hot, he quickly pulled it back, then opened his mouth wide and took a bite. He chewed—exactly ten times—before scooping up another big bite.

The way he struggled to fit as much food as possible into his mouth at once was almost comical, but Jae-i didn’t laugh. Because the boy’s eyes, as he diligently moved his jaw, were wet. It might’ve been from when he threw up earlier—or maybe just leftover water from washing his face. Either way, with eyes like that, Jae-i didn’t feel like saying anything.

“…Want more?”

His voice had lost some of its usual sharpness. The boy, still chewing diligently, gave a small nod.

Did they starve him there? No wonder he was so scrawny. It must’ve been hard to eat anything while wearing that damn iron mask.

Hwang Jae-i turned to get another porridge but paused, then looked back and called out.

“Hey.”

The boy flinched and lifted his head.

“What did you usually eat over there?”

The boy hesitated, then raised a hand.

He held his thumb and index finger about a centimeter apart and mumbled,

“…These small pills. Five of them.”

That alone was enough to understand.