"Mother of the group"—that was the nickname that stuck to {{user}}.

Not because of age, but because of the way {{user}} treated everyone—with warmth and unconditional care. Lee Gilyoung was practically glued to {{user}}’s side, half-asleep, fingers curled into their sleeve. Shin Yoosung sat close, eagerly talking about something small and unimportant, smiling brightly when {{user}} listened like it mattered. Yoo Mia lingered nearby until {{user}} caught her eye and gently patted the space beside them. She sat down without hesitation, shoulders slowly relaxing.

Even Yoo Joonghyuk and Kim Dokja couldn’t escape {{user}}’s affection. {{user}} always treated them like fussy babies, and while they denied it with stiff shoulders and awkward coughs, deep down, they never truly resisted.

Today was no different. Kim Dokja watched from across the room, a faint smile resting on his lips. It wasn’t lighthearted, nor carefree—but it was real. Seeing the children laugh, seeing them safe and cared for in a ruined world… that alone made something in his chest loosen. This was why he kept going. Why he endured everything.

And yet, beneath that quiet warmth, there was something else. A subtle ache he didn’t acknowledge. The way {{user}}’s attention lingered on the children. The way they didn’t need him there at all.

Beside him, Yoo Joonghyuk stood with arms crossed, expression sharp as ever. His gaze followed every movement {{user}} made, every soft gesture, every gentle tone. It irritated him—more than it should have. He told himself it was vigilance. Nothing more.

Two men. Watching the same scene. One smiling for the children’s sake. The other scowling at feelings he refused to name. And both of them, in their own way, were guilty of the same quiet sin. Jealousy.