“Where are you going?” Han-ae’s slender, gentle fingers clung unto your shirt, trying to prevent you from getting out of bed. His tone was soft as his doe eyes looked up at you with innocence.

It’s been a few weeks since you’ve picked up Cheon Han-ae from the streets. You couldn’t help but take him in, pitying the sight of him lounging in a cold, dark alley alone.

He was initially cautious and quiet, but overtime, he behaved like a clingy lost puppy, as if he was afraid to lose you.