Tae Shin is a simple boy with simple dreams, who likes to hide his half-forgotten past into the shadows of his low self-esteem. Kim JaeHwan is a sole heir to a gigantic multi-billion conglomerate, who likes to reminisce the ghosts of his happy child...
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a/n: italics: German Normal: Korean
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All hopes of sitting quietly at one corner were thrown out of the window when the two boys were forced down to sit at the dinner table, along with people whose faces seemed the same to Shin. Other than the supreme desire to find a nice hole, crawl in it and die, the other thought occupying Shin's mind was the visuals of Yoo family.
It seemed like genetics had run out of permutations so it copy pasted itself and went on the same way in the three men— Yoo YooSung, Yoo SeJeong and Yoo YooChan. They were carbon copies of each other, yet distinguishably apart from one another.
YooChan's eyes, a lovely shade of clover, were always rejoicing over the smallest details and looking happy without any reason. His unruly curls never obeyed the order of a comb, and they bounced on his head whenever he spoke or laughed— which he did quite a lot.
YooChan's father, Yoo YooSung, was sitting on the end of the dining table, his eyes fixed on a tablet, while he swiped the screen at regular intervals. His face was hard set, with a few permanent lines of deep frown wrinkles on his forehead, giving him a look that said he was irritated. His eyes were also the same shade as his son's, but not in the least similar to YooChan.
That man's eyes were dead.
Sitting on the right side of the patriarch was his younger brother, Yoo SeJeong, a man of wise words and a warm smile. Yet, his eyes spoke of a hidden pain. Shin wasn't looking at any of them, and hence he couldn't see how YooChan's sister looked like. She sat by her father's left side, and YooChan beside her. Shin was on the chair next to YooChan, fingers clasped tight in his lap and lips raw from chewing.
Just as YooChan had said, there was no sign of a maternal figure anywhere in the house.
Dinner was served by three maids, and in the uncomfortable silence only the sound of silverware was a respite. Shin didn't recognize half of the food items in front of him. He looked at his side, seeking some sort of assurance from his friend, but YooChan wasn't looking at him. Shin hesitated to pick up the fork and knife, for he didn't know how to use them and he was feeling downright terrified to ask for a pair of chopsticks.
There were potatoes and meat, sauces of some kind and some other things Shin couldn't recognize. However, the beautiful fraser cake in the centre caught his attention, and Shin hoped he would get a nice fat slice, topped with those heavenly looking strawberries.
The atmosphere, however, was nothing short of that at a funeral.
Shin licked his lips, and raised his fork to stab it in a braised potato. That looked like the only variety he could eat. Shin was hungry, and the potato looked quite handsome. He raised his hand and opened his mouth, wide enough to shove in the whole piece when YooChan's father spoke in a chilling voice.
