RTN 29

I was so startled that I couldn’t answer right away. Kim Do-woon frowned irritably.

“You said we’d help each other, didn’t you?”

Ah, so that still stands. I’d been worried he might get angry and call the whole thing off, but clearly, the deal was as good for him as it was for me.

I felt a little relieved. Bringing up cooperation with Kim Do-woon had been a big gamble for me, too.

“Still, come on. Do you have any idea how ridiculous I looked?”

“You didn’t look ridiculous.”

“And how would you know? I basically ended up doing someone else’s job for them!”

“But Baek I-hyun didn’t even scold you and just let it go. How is that ridiculous? That’s favoritism.”

“That’s…”

Do-woon blinked a few times, then uncrossed his arms.

“Anyway, don’t use people like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s fast.”

“But you wouldn’t have agreed if I’d asked directly.”

“Hey.”

I shut my mouth. I was quietly straightening my rumpled collar when a shadow suddenly fell across my vision.

He grabbed me by the collar again — but this time, it was different. I almost pushed him away on reflex, but stopped.

Do-woon frowned and tugged at my collar, pulling it open slightly, then grabbed the ribbon inside and gave it a yank. The thin black string I had painstakingly tied came undone easily and fell loosely across my chest.

“What the hell are you wearing this for?” he grumbled, flicking the ribbon behind my shoulder with his fingers. Then he started folding and adjusting the fabric inside the collar with practiced hands.

But suddenly, he stopped and frowned again. Letting go of the folded cloth, he pulled the collar wider and peered at the back of my neck, muttering,

“What did you even do here? You’d have to try hard to wear it this wrong.”

“Is it wrong?”

“This isn’t some decorative scarf. It’s a protective weave. It’s supposed to go the other way—ah, this is backwards. Take it off.”

He stepped back, letting go of me. I took off the outer layer of clothing, and he immediately took it from me, spreading it open behind my back. He didn’t touch me directly, but the closeness made it feel like he was wrapping me in an embrace, and I tensed up.

Only then did I realize we were alone in the bathroom. Do-woon, however, seemed completely unfazed.

“Well? Put your arms through.”

I slid my arms into the sleeves one at a time. He drew out the inner layer of cloth, bringing it forward and securing it over my left shoulder. The remaining fabric naturally draped across my chest.

“This isn’t just a piece of fabric. It can block almost anything.”

“Even bullets?”

“That’s basic.”

He muttered absently while folding the cloth several times and fastening it neatly over my chest with some sort of inner clasp. I looked up at him quietly.

We were close enough to feel each other’s breath, yet he didn’t seem bothered at all. The way he dressed and adjusted my clothes was casual and natural — like someone who’d done it a hundred times.

“Do you have a kid?” I asked suddenly.

“What?”

He froze and stepped back immediately. I felt the fastening come loose, the neatly folded cloth slipping back down.

He exhaled sharply, looking incredulous.

“Wow.”

Then he covered his head with both hands.

“Wow, seriously. What did you just say? Do I look like somebody’s dad to you?”

“I just thought you were really natural at dressing someone—”

“I’m just used to taking care of my younger sibling, that’s all! A kid? Unbelievable. You really know how to piss people off with your mouth.”

“I was just asking.”

“Be quiet.”

Then he grabbed my collar again and pulled me toward him. I stumbled forward a few steps.

Jaw clenched, he began folding the cloth again — rougher this time, clearly annoyed. I studied his face silently.

He did look around my age. Sometimes he had this strangely world-weary, detached expression, but his eyes were bright and his face still soft with youth.

Probably the same age as me — maybe a year or two older.

His hair was slightly flattened, like he’d just woken up, yet still glossy and healthy-looking. He wasn’t a sculpted kind of handsome, but there was a clean, lively aura about him.

He was one of those people whose attitude and expression made their looks better. From the start, he’d always carried himself with a kind of easy confidence — the sort that comes from real ability.

No, he didn’t look like a dad. If anything, he looked like the kind of guy who’d go wandering forever, getting into trouble and probably dying in a ditch somewhere.

Still, I had asked only because I didn’t know much about how things worked here. I didn’t know when people usually had children, or even if they did — or if appearances here matched actual age at all.

He might look my age but actually be a hundred years old for all I knew.

But I didn’t bother explaining that. I had the strong feeling that if I said another word, I’d really get hit.

“Watch carefully. You grab this part here and pull the loop to one side. Keep holding with this hand. Then wrap it once around—”

Do-woon’s tone had softened again, more instructive now. The irritation from before was gone, and he focused entirely on teaching me how to wear the outfit properly.

He tied the end of the cloth across my chest and secured it with a strap inside the outer layer.

“The reason you have to re-tie it every time is because the protection doesn’t last indefinitely. You have to treat it with special chemicals after every wash, so—”

Then he suddenly looked up. Our eyes met.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Before I could reply, his voice sharpened again.

“Seriously, are you going to keep zoning out like that? I’m showing you how to do it — not asking for you to ogle me! What, you want me to dress you every time?”

Even while grumbling, he tightened the knot carefully.

“Unbelievable. How am I supposed to train someone like this?”

“You’re in charge of my training?”

He sighed deeply, lowering his head, his hair brushing the tip of my nose as he muttered,

“Damn it… apparently, yeah.”

“Why the cursing?”

“Because looking at you makes the future seem bleak.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Of course you are. You’ve got good instincts for people, I’ll give you that. Still — I shouldn’t be the one stuck teaching you.”

He muttered complaints under his breath, then grabbed my shoulders and turned me toward the mirror. The outfit now hung perfectly, smooth and well-fitted — a night-and-day difference from before.

“See? Got it? Now do it yourself from the start.”

After repeating it several times, I finally managed to put it on properly by myself. Do-woon didn’t look entirely satisfied, but said it was “passable.”

He added that everyone found it tricky at first — and that some idiots still wore it backward, apparently unafraid of dying.

“Do you even realize how high-end this lesson is? I’m top-tier labor. You better pay me back once you start making money.”

He said it lightly, but it wasn’t untrue. I still remembered clearly how others had watched him back at the cafeteria — cautious, deferential.

For someone from a despised background to reach that level meant not just skill, but sharp social instinct.

Only one thing still bothered me.

That violent side I’d seen the first time we met — at the gate. Everyone there had treated outsiders like filth, but it was Kim Do-woon who had led that tone.

He’d made the first move, and everyone followed his lead. Though they all acted casually, it was obvious there was a hierarchy — and he was at the top. He had mocked the outsiders openly.

But now, alone with me, he was remarkably patient. Even when I provoked him, he only got irritated or grabbed my collar — never hit me.

He was far gentler than he’d been back then. Not because I was important, but because there was no one else here to see.

There was reason to think so.

The way he had split his lunch with me. The way he’d backed me up even after realizing I’d dumped work on him. The way he now helped me get dressed, complaining the whole time but still careful with his hands.

He wasn’t naturally cruel. Which meant that the hostility I’d seen at the gate was probably just him blending in with the crowd.

There’s a big difference between leading and playing along. The latter was at least forgivable — and maybe even the reason he’d survived so long here, as a colony-born.

I was thinking I’d chosen the right person to work with when Do-woon checked his watch and headed for the door.

“Finish getting ready and come out.”

“How do I use this?” I asked, holding up a hair dryer.

He gave me a baffled look, then gestured lazily.

“Press underneath.”

“Here?”

I deliberately pointed to the wrong spot — testing his patience.

He looked exasperated.

“No, not there. Below that.”

“Here?”

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

With a sigh, he snatched the dryer from my hand, pressed the button inside the handle, and it came to life.

Then, suddenly, he turned it toward my face. Cold air blasted out, and I instinctively raised my arms to shield myself.

The prank lasted only a moment. The wind stopped, and as soon as I lowered my arms, something flew at me. I caught it reflexively — the dryer.

“Dry your hair and come out.”

He stepped out of the bathroom, then paused as if remembering something.

“Tie your hair up.”