Youn-jun had always thought rich people's houses would feel warmer.
Maybe it was because every television drama insisted that wealth came with polished sunlight, laughter echoing down grand staircases, and tables crowded with food no one could possibly finish. Maybe it was because Seung-min never spoke much about home, and Jun's imagination had filled the silence with things that looked better than the truth.
Instead, the mansion stood behind iron gates like something carefully preserved rather than lived in.
The car that had picked them up from school rolled to a smooth stop beneath a stone awning. A row of staff bowed as the doors opened. Jun nearly tripped getting out.
"Why are there so many people?" he whispered.
Seung-min adjusted the strap of his bag and glanced at him. "Because my grandfather dislikes doing things himself."
Jun stared for a second, then burst into a laugh. "You say that so casually."
"It's true."
He said it with the same expression he used for weather reports.
Jun followed him inside.
The entrance hall was enormous, marble stretching out in gleaming silence. Their footsteps echoed too loudly. There were paintings in gold frames, vases taller than Jun's waist, and flowers that looked expensive enough to apologize before touching.
It was beautiful.
It was also freezing.
Not in temperature. The air was perfectly controlled, the room warm enough. But the house itself felt still in a way that made Jun instinctively lower his voice.
"No one lives here," he murmured.
Seung-min looked at him.
Jun corrected himself quickly. "I mean—obviously people do. You do. I just mean…"
"I know what you mean."
There was no offense in his tone. That somehow made it worse.
A housekeeper approached. "Young master, your father has returned early."
Seung-min gave a small nod. "We'll greet him first."
Jun straightened automatically, smoothing his hair. "Wait, should I bow? How much? Like ninety degrees? Forty-five?"
"Try not to injure yourself."
"That doesn't help."
For the first time since arriving, the corner of Seung-min's mouth lifted.
They were led into a sitting room lined with bookshelves and dark wood. A man stood near the window, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, reading through a stack of documents. He looked up as they entered.
Jun recognized Seung-min immediately in the shape of his eyes.
The man set the papers aside. "You brought a guest."
"This is Youn-jun," Seung-min said. "We're studying."
Jun bowed quickly. "Hello, sir. Thank you for letting me come."
The man's expression softened in a quiet, almost surprised way. "So this is Youn-jun."
Jun blinked. "...Am I famous?"
"In this house?" the man said. "Somewhat."
Seung-min looked faintly inconvenienced. "Father."
A hint of amusement crossed the man's face. "I'm Lee Hyun-woo."
Jun bowed again, less dramatically this time. "Nice to meet you."
"You must be hungry. Has Min fed you anything?"
Jun gasped. "Sir, with respect, he barely remembers to feed himself."
"Youn-jun."
"What? It's true."
To Jun's delight, Seung-min's father actually laughed—a small, rusty sound, as though it had not been used enough recently.
"I'll have snacks sent up," he said. Then, after a pause, "Thank you for staying beside him."
The room went quiet.
Jun looked at Seung-min, expecting annoyance, but Min only looked away.
"I like being beside him," Jun said lightly.
Something unreadable flickered through the father's eyes. "I'm glad."
They were halfway to the door when another voice cut across the room.
"So this is the distraction."
The temperature dropped.
An older man entered with measured steps, silver hair combed neatly back, posture straighter than anyone Jun had ever seen. His gaze moved over Jun once, not lingering long enough to be rude and somehow making it ruder.
Seung-min's shoulders went still.
"Grandfather," he said.
The old man ignored him. "You are Youn-jun."
Jun bowed. "Hello, sir."
"I have heard your name often enough."
Jun forced a smile. "Hopefully good things."
"That depends who is speaking."
Silence pressed in from every side.
Seung-min stepped slightly forward, not enough to be obvious to anyone except Jun. Enough to place himself between them.
"We need to study," he said.
His grandfather's eyes narrowed a fraction. "And yet your grades were highest before you became so... socially occupied."
"Second highest," Jun said before thinking.
Everyone turned to him.
Jun cleared his throat. "This year. He was second highest this year. Because I distracted him, apparently."
Seung-min closed his eyes briefly.
The old man looked unimpressed. "You are bold."
"I'm nervous," Jun admitted. "It sometimes looks similar."
To Jun's surprise, Seung-min's father made a choking sound that might have been another laugh disguised as a cough.
The grandfather's gaze hardened. "Min, your time would be better spent remembering what carries weight in life."
Seung-min's voice was calm. "I remember."
Something passed between them—old, sharp, familiar.
Then Seung-min turned. "Come on, Jun."
Jun followed at once.
They did not speak until the bedroom door closed behind them.
Jun exhaled loudly. "Your family gatherings are terrifying."
Seung-min set his bag down beside a large desk. "You can still go home."
Jun stared. "Why would I do that?"
"Because he was rude."
Jun snorted. "Please. I survived middle school group projects. I'm unkillable."
Seung-min didn't smile.
Jun's grin faded. "Min."
The room was spacious, neat to the point of severity. Books arranged by size. Bed made so precisely it looked untouched. Curtains drawn back in exact symmetry. Nothing out of place.
Nothing personal, either, except for a framed photograph on the shelf.
Two children in school uniforms. One grinning wildly at the camera. One standing beside him with the resigned expression of someone already tired.
Jun picked it up. "You kept this?"
"You gave it to me."
"So?"
"So I kept it."
Jun set the frame down carefully.
There were a hundred things he wanted to ask and none that felt safe enough.
Instead, he dropped into the chair beside the desk and pulled out his notes. "Come on then, tragic rich boy. We have calculus."
They studied for an hour.
Or tried to.
Jun answered two questions incorrectly because he kept glancing at Min. Seung-min, meanwhile, solved everything perfectly while somehow looking farther away with every passing minute.
When tea arrived, Jun waited for the staff member to leave before speaking.
"Does he always talk to you like that?"
"Yes."
"Your father too?"
"No."
Jun looked down at the untouched cup in front of Min. "Then why doesn't he stop him?"
Seung-min was quiet for a long time.
"Because surviving someone and opposing them are different skills."
Jun had no reply to that.
He stood abruptly, walked around the desk, and shoved Seung-min's shoulder.
Min looked up.
Jun shoved him again, lighter this time. "Move."
"For what?"
"I'm sitting there."
"There is another chair."
"I know. Move."
With visible reluctance, Seung-min shifted just enough for Jun to wedge himself into the space beside him. Their shoulders pressed together awkwardly against the narrow chair.
"This is impractical," Seung-min said.
"You're welcome."
"For what?"
Jun leaned his head briefly against Min's arm. "Improving the atmosphere."
For the first time since downstairs, Seung-min laughed softly.
The sound was quiet enough that Jun almost missed it.
They stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon, pretending to study while sharing one chair badly.
When evening came, Jun packed his bag slowly.
At the front entrance, Seung-min walked him to the waiting car.
Neither spoke for a moment.
The mansion loomed behind them, all lit windows and perfect stone.
Jun turned. "Do you hate it here?"
Seung-min considered the question as if it required precision.
"No," he said at last. "I just don't stay in most of it."
Jun's chest tightened.
Before he could think better of it, he reached out and grabbed Seung-min's wrist.
"When exams are over," he said, trying for casual and missing entirely, "come to my house for three days."
"Three?"
"Minimum."
"That's specific."
"My mother likes you. My sister uses you as free labor. I need someone to carry groceries. It's a busy household."
Seung-min looked at Jun's hand still around his wrist, then at Jun's face.
"Okay," he said.
Just that.
Okay.
Jun let go too quickly. "Good."
The driver opened the door for him.
As the car pulled away, Jun looked back through the rear window.
Seung-min was still standing where he had left him, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable in the falling dusk.
The house behind him was enormous.
And Seung-min, somehow, made it look empty.