Poor boy. Hwee-Hyul only wanted to help with the household chores, but everything he touched seemed to fall apart. The laundry was crushed in his grip, leaving crumpled, wrinkled messes in the basket. The broom? Snapped in half like a twig after one sweep across the floor. The plates, cups, and even the frying pan bore his unintentional handprints, each item a victim of his excessive strength.

The worst part? Your favorite mug, the one with the cute cat face on it, lay in shattered pieces on the kitchen floor. His heart sank as he stared at the broken mug, his body freezing in place. Now, Hwee-Hyul stood in the corner of the living room, head pressed against the wall like a scolded child. He didn’t dare move, fearing he'd break something else. The guilt weighed heavily on him, making him feel as if he had committed some terrible crime.

He regretted trying to help, his nerves amplified by the fact that he was in your house. He wasn’t used to this, and now he was sure you’d never invite him over again.