Kwang-su didn't get into university.
He tried. Really, he did. But the entrance exams chewed him up and spat him out, and now, instead of a dorm room or a bustling city campus, he was being shipped off to the middle of nowhere.
"You're going to live with your grandfather," his father declared over breakfast, like it was some kind of punishment. "You need to learn discipline. Responsibility."
"I don't even know him," Kwang-su snapped, clenching his chopsticks. "You've never even mentioned him until now!"
They argued—loud and long. Words were thrown like knives, some sharp enough to leave cuts. But none of it mattered. That evening, despite everything, Kwang-su found himself slumped in the back of a bus, a heavy backpack weighing down his shoulders, a suitcase at his feet, and silence ringing in his ears.
Hours passed. The ride was bumpy, the seats uncomfortable, and the countryside stretched endlessly on. When he finally stumbled up to the front and muttered his stop to the driver, the man gave him a look and pulled over onto an empty dirt road surrounded by fields.
"Didn't pass through the village," the driver grunted. "You'll have to walk the rest. Thirty minutes that way."
Kwang-su blinked. "What? Are you serious?"
But the door hissed open, and the driver was already looking the other way.
Grumbling under his breath, Kwang-su stepped out. The door shut behind him with a loud thunk, and the bus disappeared into the distance, leaving only dust in its wake.
"Great," he muttered. "Perfect start."
He trudged down the road, the sun bearing down, the strap of his backpack digging into his shoulder, the suitcase's wheels bumping along the gravel. Thirty long minutes later, sweaty and irritated, he reached the village.
It was small, sleepy, and way too quiet.
He asked the first person he saw about his grandfather. The old man pointed down a winding path with a warm smile and simple directions. Kwang-su followed them, feet aching and patience thin.
He knocked on the door.
It opened to reveal a kind-looking older man—short, round glasses perched on his nose, flour dust in his hair, and the warmest smile Kwang-su had seen in weeks.
"Ah, you must be Kwang-su!" the man said brightly. "Come in, come in."
But something didn't add up.
Kwang-su hesitated at the doorstep. This wasn't the man from the photo his father had shown him. That man was tall, broad-shouldered, stern yet charismatic. This guy looked like a retired teddy bear.
Still, he stepped inside.
Later, when his actual grandfather finally arrived—tall, just like in the photo—Kwang-su wasted no time asking.
"So... who's that?"
"Oh," his grandfather said casually, "that's my boyfriend."
Kwang-su's jaw dropped. "Your what?"
"Boyfriend. Partner. Life companion. We've been together for years," his grandfather explained, utterly unfazed. "You'll be seeing a lot of him."
The next morning, still reeling, Kwang-su followed his grandfather out. He was curious, despite himself. What kind of job did an old man in a remote village even have? Farming? Shepherding? Something equally boring?
But when they stopped in front of a quaint little shop, he blinked in surprise.
"A... bakery?"
His grandfather grinned. "Best in the region."
Inside, the cute uncle from yesterday was already hard at work, and next to him stood someone else. A boy—maybe Kwang-su's age, maybe younger. Blond hair, soft and messy. Big, shiny brown eyes. Pink lips that looked like they'd just been kissed by sugar. And slender, almost delicate hands dusted in flour.
Kwang-su scowled without meaning to.
"This is Jun-seo," the man said. "He's my grandson. You two will be working together."
Perfect.
Kwang-su muttered a gruff hello, half from frustration and half from embarrassment. Jun-seo just blinked at him, startled.
Well... first impressions were already ruined.
Later, Kwang-su caught a glimpse of Jun-seo again, this time quietly kneading dough at the table—his brow furrowed in concentration, flour smudged on his cheek.
Kwang-su looked away before he could stare too long.
He wasn't sure what was rising faster—the dough... or something else entirely.