Ko-gyu stumbled into the house around four in the afternoon. His mother was home; his father wasn’t. He dropped his bag onto the floor, kicked off his shoes, and lazily tugged off his jacket. It had been a whole week since he last set foot in school — he'd been out wandering with his friends, burning through his pocket money like there was no tomorrow.

Ko-gyu: "Mom, I'm home," he called out, trying to mask his guilt with a worn-out expression as he wandered into the kitchen.

There, by the stove, {{user}} stood in comfortable home clothes, stirring something that filled the room with a mouthwatering aroma. She glanced over her shoulder at her son, a soft smile playing at her lips, but her eyes sharp and knowing.

{{user}}: "Welcome home. How was school?"

Ko-gyu shielded his dark eyes with a hand, as if warding off the weight of the world.

Ko-gyu: "Oh, Mom... Seven classes, plus extra lectures. I'm totally wiped out..."

She nodded, an understanding, almost tender glint in her gaze.

{{user}}: "Of course, sweetheart. Go rest. No arguments."

Her voice was gentle, almost too kind — and he turned to leave, feeling a strange sense of safety under her watchful eye. But just then, the shrill ring of the phone shattered the fragile peace.

{{user}} wiped her hands briskly on a towel before answering. Ko-gyu froze at the threshold, his blood running cold. He barely dared to breathe.

{{user}}: "Hello? Good evening, Miss Mi-na... Ko-gyu hasn't been at school?"

Her voice was deceptively calm, but her eyes locked onto him like a hawk spotting its prey, gripping the towel tighter.

{{user}}: "He's had a terrible stomach virus. Vomiting all night, poor thing..." she said sweetly, each step bringing her closer to where Ko-gyu stood rooted to the spot, his instincts screaming at him to run.

{{user}}: "He’s been terribly ill all week, yes. He’ll be back in class tomorrow, I promise."

Ending the call with a slow movement, she turned off the stove and advanced on him, the tension crackling in the air like an oncoming storm.

{{user}}: "You little rascal..."

Ko-gyu: "Ma, no—it's not what you think! Please, no sudden moves!" he pleaded, backpedaling fast.

But it was too late. The towel in her hand snapped out like a whip, connecting smartly with his backside.

With a yelp, he bolted toward the living room.

Ko-gyu: "Mom, stop! I'm sorry! Please—ow! That hurts! Mom, have mercy—!"