A fool.
A hopeless mess.
Twenty-eight years old, and still couldn’t manage a single emotion.
Laughing one moment, crying the next.
Fearful, then bold.
Scold him, and he’d cry.
Praise him, and he’d beam.
Wooheon couldn’t begin to guess what went on inside that tiny weasel brain.
Everyone around him had learned to hide their emotions.
Conversations were always calculated, their true intentions buried.
But this little weasel always made it obvious.
Whenever he was scared, his ears would flatten, his fur would puff out, and sometimes, he’d even cry.
He was a child, plain and simple.
However his old guardian had raised him, it sure hadn’t made him act accordingly to his age, twenty-damn-eight.
「Wow! You’re having bread for breakfast?」
「Don’t you have eyes?」
「I do....」
His feelings were always out in the open—no need to guess, no need to look too hard.
