Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 59: Useless

None of them were tolerable.

Kwon Jongseok, who beat Ha Giyeon and tried to cover it up. Choi Mujin, who pretended to be generous after stealing Giyeon’s clothes. Nam Taekyung, who faked familiarity and pretended to care. Ha Giyeon himself, who begged to be ignored.

And on top of that, Secretary Kim, who subtly looked down on Giyeon.

Ha Dohoon had originally intended to ignore Ha Giyeon just as he wished—to watch quietly until Giyeon came to him of his own accord. He hated to admit it, but Kwon Jongseok had a point: when things got hard, Giyeon would eventually come looking for him.

So when Dohoon had spoken to Giyeon, who was sitting off in a corner of the department store, it wasn’t concern—it was more of a notice.

Since he hadn’t worn the clothes Dohoon had given him, he figured: if he didn’t like them, he should just throw them out.

“What clothes?”

But Giyeon didn’t even seem to know what he was talking about. Had he put them away and forgotten? No—if it were Giyeon, he would’ve jumped up and down with joy. He would never forget.

Dohoon even explained when he’d bought them, then waited for a reaction.

“I didn’t get any clothes. Seriously.”

Giyeon sounded genuinely confused. For a second, Dohoon wondered if he just didn’t remember—but that didn’t seem right. If he’d been in a bad mood back then, he would’ve returned them, like he did with Mujin’s.

And Giyeon wasn’t the type to lie. He didn’t have the guts to.

Which meant... he really never got them.

Dohoon asked again.

“That day—you know, the day you flipped the cake. I told Secretary Kim to leave them in your room. You really didn’t see them?”

“If I had, I would’ve given them back. I swear, I don’t know anything about them.”

Dohoon’s expression hardened. The more he thought about it, the clearer it became. He had told Secretary Kim to buy clothes and leave them in Giyeon’s room. And then, he’d brought up the clothes with Giyeon later.

And what was Giyeon’s reaction?

“Then why do you keep doing this? Acting like we’re close, like you care. Even gave me clothes like some kind of gift. What do you want from me?”

“What clothes...?”

Now that he looked back, Giyeon had never once responded to the topic of clothes properly.

Now he understood why it had all felt so off.

“That son of a bitch...”

If Giyeon never got the clothes, there was only one possibility.

Secretary Kim never gave them to him.

Dohoon had spent the last several weeks playing the fool, thinking he’d given Giyeon a gift when nothing had ever made it to him. And all because Kim had dared to ignore Dohoon’s orders—keeping silent as if nothing had happened.

Dohoon immediately stood to go confront him—but just then, their parents texted to say they were almost there.

He clenched his jaw. There wasn’t enough time to pick a fight before dinner. And his parents hated delays or broken promises.

He’d handle it after the meal.

“Let’s go. They’re almost here.”

Ha Giyeon stood from his seat and followed silently behind as Dohoon marched toward the restaurant, his rage barely restrained.

***

The hostess led them to a private dining room in a traditional Korean restaurant. Inside was a wooden table and chairs, with only basic utensils laid out.

The two sat down side by side, waiting for their parents.

Giyeon glanced at Dohoon, who was gritting his teeth to hold back his anger. Watching him, Giyeon sighed internally.

Guess he found out.

Secretary Kim had finally gotten caught—even with Dohoon’s belongings. He hadn’t gotten caught once until the day Giyeon was kicked out... but after that, well... maybe his luck had run out.

Honestly, Giyeon was glad he’d lost the card. Secretary Kim had clearly been using Mihyun’s card regularly, and now that it had been taken, there was a strange peace in knowing it was no longer being misused.

He’d never dared tell the truth—figuring no one would believe him anyway. So he hoped they’d just never give it back. That would be simplest.

Click.

The sliding door opened, and their parents entered. Both were dressed in suits, clearly having come straight from the office. The two sons, still in school uniforms, stood and bowed.

“You’re here.”

“Yeah, traffic was bad. Did you wait long?”

“We just got here too.”

And with that, the conversation died.

Before the food arrived, silence filled the room. Giyeon stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact just in case it earned him a scolding.

Soon, a server entered and began laying out the dishes. Namul, galbijjim, haemul jeon, grilled mackerel, soy-marinated crab...

Damn it...

Nearly everything was seafood.

As he stared at the haemul jeon and crab, Giyeon felt his breath catch. This wasn’t a memorial table, so why was there so much seafood? Just one wrong bite could send him into anaphylaxis.

His seafood allergy wasn’t mild—just a little could trigger a serious reaction. He had almost died once after eating shrimp as a kid. Back then, the housekeeper had rushed him to the hospital. After that, she always made his meals separately.

He missed her food now, more than ever.

Looking across the table, nothing seemed safe. The only thing he could eat was the galbijjim.

Giyeon quietly scooped some sticky white rice and ate it with the beef stew. Only the clatter of utensils echoed in the room—until their father finally broke the silence.

“How’s school been lately?”

“...It’s fine.”

Dohoon answered lightly, as if it were nothing. Meanwhile, Giyeon carefully sniffed each side dish to make sure it didn’t contain shellfish before cautiously eating.

Then he felt it—that sharp, persistent stare.

He looked up.

His father was staring directly at him.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“...Huh?”

The elder Ha frowned at him. Caught off guard, Giyeon just blinked. He hadn’t realized the question included him.

He stammered.

“Uh... well...”

“Forget it. You can’t even answer properly.”

His father clicked his tongue and looked at him like he was completely useless. Giyeon’s already weak appetite vanished completely. His throat felt tight, and he sipped some soup to wash the discomfort down.

“If you’re going to waste time doing nothing, maybe you should study abroad instead. Stop hanging around bad influences.”

Bad ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) influences...?

What was he even talking about?

As Giyeon sat there dumbfounded, it was Dohoon who spoke up.

“Father, what are you trying to say?”

“You’re in high school now. You should get serious and find something to focus on. You can’t expect us to keep supporting you forever. If there are no results, there will be no support. If you don’t listen, you don’t deserve to be raised in this family.”

Ha Giyeon’s mind stopped functioning.

The only thing that echoed in his head was that last line.

You don’t deserve to be raised.

So his father must have found out he’d been coming home late and assumed he was spending time with “bad kids.” It felt like his father was saying: I’m ready to give up on you.

No doubt. His parents fully believed it—believed he was capable of becoming that kind of person.

At that moment, Giyeon realized exactly what kind of “dinner” this was. Why he’d been forced to attend.

A meal dressed up as family harmony, used as an excuse to formally abandon the failure of a son.

Once the truth hit him, Giyeon’s stomach churned. He felt sick.

His throat closed up, but he still forced his mouth to move.

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hanging out with anyone bad.”

“Then why do you keep coming home late?”

“I go to the library...”

His father looked at him with suspicion, and Giyeon couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped.

This was why he hated it. No one ever believed him anyway.

“...I don’t have any friends.”

Not anymore. Not even one. The only person who had ever been on his side—was gone now too.

“You don’t believe me... even when I tell the truth. So... why do you even ask...?”

“Ha Giyeon.”

“If I’m just... an embarrassment to the family... then just...”

His vision blurred. His stomach churned harder. His throat burned like it was on fire.

He couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was strangling him.

Gasping, Giyeon clutched his neck.

“Huhk... kuhk...!”

“Ha Giyeon!”

He couldn’t see. He reached toward his water glass—but his body tilted, and the world tilted with it.

And then everything went dark.

To the sound of a scream from his mother—one he’d never heard before.