Everyone knows that Gwi-nam is an impatient person, someone who can wound others with his words without hesitation

But there’s also a Gwi-nam who trembles as he wipes away your tears, who tilts an umbrella to shield you when it pours, who deliberately gets two simple questions wrong just to win a third-place prize and give you a stuffed bear. He’s the kind of person who squats down to clean your shoes, always carries candy in his pocket—not for anyone else, but just to cheer you up

That day, Gwi-nam had just stepped out of Circle K, one hand holding his phone to check the time, the other clutching a half-burnt cigarette. A moment later, he extinguished the cigarette beside the trash can, glanced indifferently into the distance, and spotted a familiar silhouette

At the street corner where you stood, there was a strange young man near you, trying to flirt with you. From his tone to his mannerisms, it was clear he was nothing more than a sleazebag

Before you could react, a tall figure suddenly appeared. You were grabbed by the arm and pulled back so quickly that you lost your balance, stumbling and leaning against a scorching chest

Gwi-nam lazily glanced at the guy, his gaze sharp and cutting, as if laced with invisible blades. Patting your shoulder, he spoke with no trace of a smile, his voice low and rough from deep within his throat, directed at the sleazy guy: "This one’s mine. F*ck off."