PROLOGUE
M/N'S POV

I have known him for the majority of my life.

I lived in the same street, or more like a neighborhood. But not once have I ever heard about him. He was not one to show up or make himself relatively known. Or rather, I was just a careless child who was not curious enough about the elite family.

It was when I was 6.

And I could still remember it vividly.

In a cloudy afternoon, the sky already gray and grumbling with the threats of thunder - I stood by the park, pleased with the thought of having the playground all to myself since the other kids were most probably held back by their parents from going outside in this weather where rain was expected to fall.

I was an unruly child. Hair stuck out in every direction, specks of dirt evident on my clothes, and a pair of red boots that was a size too big for my little feet.

I did not care for appearances, and it was something my parents eventually gave up on trying to teach me - convinced that once I get older, I'd change.

Recklessly, I dragged my feet towards the playground, already coming up with ideas to make the most out of my time.

I walked towards the supposed empty section, ready to jump up the swings, but I paused midway as soon as I noticed a pair of black and shiny leather shoes peeking by the side where the slides are.

And out of curiosity, I stepped back to get a clearer view, slowly walking towards it.

Under the orange slide, I saw a boy.

He had dark hair, fair skin, and an overall neat appearance. He reminded me of the kids that I would frequently meet during fancy gatherings, and most of them were children of rich people that my parents are friends with.

And I didn't like them at all. Whenever I tried to play with them, they had the highest ego and arrogance found in a single person. When playing pretend, they would always insist to be the higher-up, absolutely hating to play the role of a peasant.

That's why my first thought was to contemplate whether to leave the boy alone, after all, he didn't seem to see me directly in the eye.

But for some stupid reason, my stupid feet moved on its own accord, and one second I was standing a good distance away from him, the next - I was in front of him with wide and curious eyes.

His eyes were unreadable, and his face was blank. It was odd to see a kid about my age having this kind of expression you would often only see on adults, and it ignited my curiosity about him further.

He stared up at me from his seat under the orange slide, his peace now disturbed upon seeing another person. I could see a slight twinge of annoyance evident behind his orbs, but being a foolish child who could care less - I remained unfazed.

"It's gonna rain soon."

He didn't reply right away so I continued without a care.

"Hey, what's your name?" I spoke without an ounce of reluctance. I was a bold and shameless child, and the boy with an uninterested look on his face caught my attention.

His eyes shifted visibly, slipping up slightly. I saw a variety of emotions, his thoughts almost loud without flavor. Despite putting up a blank facade, he was only a child. Like me. He has yet to perfect whatever front he wished to put up.

For a second, his eyes scanned mine, determining my worth. And after seeing that I held not the slightest recognition of him, he paused before his lips finally parted.

"Gun." His voice was relatively dead. It sounded quite lifeless without a colorful tone. It was simply as bland as my father's coffee.

"I'm M/n!" I exclaimed in a chirpy tone, a great contrast to his previously lifeless one.

I can see his face scrunch up slightly at the volume of my voice.

"What are you doing here alone? It's gonna rain." I pointed out the obvious. He looked like someone who was fed with a silver spoon, I doubt the adults would just allow him to be out at this weather.

He was silent for a few seconds, taking his time to answer.

"I like the weather." He stated simply as if it was self-explanatory. And I could only stare at him, trying to determine his odd character.

He definitely was different from all the rich kids I've met so far. And perhaps, that drew me in. The idea of someone different, someone who broke the stereotype. I was simply curious beyond compare.

And now that I think of it, it was also curiosity that killed the cat.

I opened my mouth, but before I can speak out the words - rain started pouring, slowly at first before it gradually became heavier. It was getting colder and I was simply glad that I was more than ready for this scenario.

I moved quickly and pushed him slightly to make space for myself under the slide, sitting beside him the cramped space. I knew he was annoyed but I also didn't care.

"I wanted to play on the swings." I spoke up in disappointment, speaking whatever was on my mind at the time.

And as usual, he was silent, it was like talking to a log of dull wood.

"This is okay, right?" I happily gestured towards the current situation we were in; both seated under the slide, shoulders and knees touching, and I was slightly worried that this was too close for his comfort since he looks like a typical germaphobe.

But much to my glee, he only grunted and I took that as an 'okay' sign.

"Do you live around here? I haven't seen you around before. Do you also go to a private school? I'm on 1st grade, that means I'm 6. How about you? You look about the same age!" I bombarded with questions.

Each increasing question, I feel his energy fade even more.

After 10 seconds of silence with the sound of the of the heavy rain in the background - he finally spoke up.

"Around here." He stated shortly. "Homeschooled. Same age."

His vague answers were enough for me. Noticing the small droplets of rain slowly invading our little shelter, I reached for my cat umbrella and opened it, putting it above our heads so that we wouldn't get soaked and be exposed to the possibility of catching a cold.

"Are your parents strict?" I asked out of the blue, and I could tell he was also wondering about my random question.

Nonetheless, he was silent as ever, as if contemplating it.

"So-so." He replied.

I figured what he meant. It wouldn't be surprising if he came from a tight household. The clothes, the appearance, the mannerism - he was undoubtedly raised strictly.

And I know that most strict households can be overbearing by the littlest things. So, without thinking twice, I removed my red boots and placed it in front of him.

He stared in clear skepticism.

"Wear it over your shoes. They look expensive and you might get a scolding if you manage to get dirt on it." I stated casually, letting my bare feet land on the wet soil beneath me. It felt nice and cold. I've always preferred feeling the earth this way anyway.

He looked a little. . . Amused? I could no longer figure it out. But there was a short momentary look of interest that flashed on his face that left as soon as it came. I only caught a glimpse, and a glimpse was not enough to crack the puzzle.

And then our eyes met.

I felt a kind of contradiction in him. He's seeking something, but at the same time, he is running away for all he's worth.

In the cold and rainy weather, sheltering under the orange slide - that was where I met Park Jong Gun.

I was the one who initiated it first. I offered the friendship and he simply took it for granted.

In the years after, I considered him a precious friend. A very important one. But in me, he only saw a loyal subordinate.

And I sometimes wondered if I hadn't approached him that day, maybe all of this would have been avoided.