Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A dose of fresh air.
A non-work-related interaction.
A hobby.
A glimpse of life outside the office.
Maybe even a pet.

In-ho tapped his black Montblanc fountain pen against the notepad, his other hand resting on his chin. He looked at the messy handwriting his therapist friend had put on the paper. His brows furrowed. The words cluttered endlessly in his mind as he tried to make sense of it. It was nothing severe, the pain it caused, but how persistent it could be was something that put In-ho on edge. A maddening itch he can't reach. No pain reliever could ease it. The constant, dull ache gnawed at him, creating a domino effect of stress that was beginning to strain his work. Not that he couldn’t manage, it wasn’t an option not to. He always managed. He had to.

Nothing could take him down.Not him, Hwang In-ho, the great CEO who had never taken a single break since landing his position. Breaks were for the weak. And he was far from weak.

Leaning further on the chair, hand clasped, then he closed his eyes and tried to be at ease and fined inner peace. Loosening shoulder follows, as well as creases on his forehead faded. He breathed out gradually, fulfilling the state he aimed for.

Maybe he could turn his office cubicle into a terrarium. Or better yet, convert the entire lobby into one. It could benefit not just him but his employees as well.

The peace lily immediately came to mind. He remembered its elegant white flowers from a hotel lobby in Singapore—a symbol of peace and rebirth. It required minimal care, thrived in low light, and purified the air. A perfect addition.

Then there was the lavender he’d come across during a vineyard tour in Provence, its scent soothing and almost medicinal. It was said to reduce stress and improve mental clarity. He could already imagine the faint fragrance wafting through the room, calming the perpetual tension that hung in the office.

He could see it now: a small, glass-encased garden sitting in the corner of his office. A patch of green to break up the monotony of gray walls and sleek, lifeless furniture. A controlled environment where nothing could die under his care.

The idea seemed practical at first, but the thought of staying within the confines of the office defeated the whole point.
He crossed his arms, eyes still closed, as he orchestrated a silent meeting in the blank spaces of his mind. His feet shifted and crossed, and his fingers began tapping rhythmically on his sleeve as though searching for answers buried in the void.

A hobby... He had plenty of those. All meticulously learned and perfected, tailored to foster connections with business associates. Golf, sailing, fencing, wine tasting. He had mastered them all. Even the delicate forms of art, from calligraphy to sculpting. He enjoyed them, in a way. But they were strings tied to their roots: tools for networking, a petty means to an end.

None of it had ever been truly for him.

If hobbies are depicted to him like that, it's even worse when it comes to people. It was almost impossible to find anyone who didn’t see him as mere stature. To everyone, he was always the CEO, the boss, an eminent figure. Even the janitors, cooks, street workers, and public servants addressed him as such. His position at the top was a constant, a lonely peak no one dared or cared to reach. They only glanced from afar, fleeting and cautious, as though lingering too long might burn them, keeping their safe distance. Like the sun, he thought bitterly. A figure admired but never approached.

The thought made him wince.

Maybe he really should just get a pet. His smirk turned into a snicker at the ridiculous idea.

He went back to proper posture and laid out his hands flat on his table. He eyed through his palms. He observed his hands, wide, firm, and elegant. He turned them upward, studying them with a detached curiosity.

His hands had only ever been good with dead things, papers, documents, pens. He wasn’t the type to crave physicality or closeness, and he never had been. It had been that way since childhood. Love, touch, warmth, they were foreign concepts, distractions that had no place in his rigidly structured purpose.

But the truth was harsher. Everything he touched seemed to die. Plants, pets, it didn’t matter. These hands of his aren't made for anything breathing. A single touch of his would turn fragile beings to break. He sighed. his back falling back on his chair.

Well, back to square one it is.

A knock interrupted his train of thought. One sharp knock. In-ho directed his attention to the door, waiting for the person on the other side to come in. The silence that followed was unnerving. His face soured as he waited for the nothingness to stretch into awkwardness. Another knock. In-ho can't help but roll his eyes, tongue-clicking a sound of disapproval as his patience is being tested to its limits.

"Come in," his voice almost a groan of disappointment for having to make an unnecessary point. It was a rule he'd instilled in his employees. One order never repeated. His secretary, his whole staff, knew better. How someone could be so unaware of this, especially in the middle of one of his headaches, was beyond him.

The door creaked open, and a surprise entered. The man was dressed in no uniform of the company. Not even a cleaning staff. He was holding a suitcase, a file filled with what seemed like important documents, and a tray of coffee and a paper bag that likely contained the CEO's food order.

The man was in a casual shirt, loose jacket, and baggy pants. He could barely pass as a decent human being. In-ho was holding back the urge to yell at him, convinced he was some homeless trespasser.

Concern and curiosity struck In-ho silent. The man approached him, walking almost tiptoeing, looking like a stick figure with barely enough energy to hold up his oversized clothes. In-ho's eyes lingered on the stranger, who was now awkwardly placing the items down on his desk, giving him strange smiles every now and then.

In-ho remained silent, allowing him to finish, though his confusion only deepened. When everything was placed on his desk, the man stood in front of him, still smiling obnoxiously and swaying a bit, his fingers interlaced awkwardly.

"I... Hello," the man coughed, fumbling for words. "I'm Gi-hun... Uh, I'm actually applying for a maintenance position in this building. I had an interview today, but I got tangled up and ended up causing some accidents... Your secretary's in the clinic right now, so I insisted on bringing this all -uh, his belongings and your food, sir. Here." He placed the paper bag in front of In-ho, still grinning awkwardly.

Before a word could be spoken, In-ho's attention was again diverted with the door creaking again and a guard entering. Gi-hun's face panics, his eyes widen as he scrambles by simply standing in his own place, readying to make a hasty escape anywhere, anytime. Foolish. And yet, entertaining. In-ho raises his hand, a simple command halting the guard completely. The door shut just as quickly.

Gi-hun looked at In-ho in awe, amazed by the authority the man had.

In-ho grabbed the food, quickly unwrapping the set of bento and casually gliding to where the man stood.

"Sit. Eat this," he ordered. Gi-hun hesitated, then sat down, opening the luxurious box with a raised eyebrow, checking for confirmation.

In-ho gave him a nod of approval. Gi-hun, now completely at ease, smiled and dug in, eating with no shame or hesitation. The sight of him devouring the food without a care in the world was almost... amusing.

In-ho chuckled quietly, his gaze following Gi-hun’s every move. The man's cheeks were full, like a hamster storing food. Cute, In-ho thought.

An idea sparked in his mind; one he hadn’t expected to consider before this moment.

“Would you mind being my pet?”

Chapter Text

“Would you mind being my pet?”

The words echoed in Gi-hun’s head, halting the momentum of his world. Should he feel insulted? Should his face twist in rage as he stared back at the man sitting across from him? No, not really. He was pretty sure he looked just as much like a pathetic loser as he always had, like the countless times he had checked himself in the mirror. Worse, Gi-hun's mouth was still full and lodged with the food; he could barely swallow. The string of noodles was slipping out of his lips, making him look funny in mid-sip.

Pathetic. Gluttonous. Pitiable. He felt like he could barely pass as a human at this point. He's more like some scavenging stray—an animal, not human.

He gulped down the food, forcing the entire thing down without chewing, so he could feel it choking in his throat. The slow, strenuous pull down to his stomach made him long for a moment of peace before he returned to face reality.

He could never be lower than he already was. His dignity was as nonexistent as the gold coins in his holed pockets. All he had left was this fragile body—a body that he could barely maintain, that only moved forward when fed.

If this was all life had left to offer him, maybe, just maybe… he should take it.

"Mm-kay, he simply answered. His voice was quiet, and he kept his eyes unwavering on one of the most powerful men he met.

The silence that followed his answer was growing unsettling by the minute. Gihun wasn't sure if what had caused it was his own carefree answer or something else, but it still stretched in between them.  Either way, the air felt still and heavy, as if the whole room was waiting.

Then, In-ho chuckled.

It started small, almost quiet, the sound muffled by his hand. Then it grew deeper and gradually unrestrained. His laughter echoed, filling the entire room.

Gi-hun was immobilized, unsure at the sight. He instinctively thought it was some humiliation, but as he let it on, let the alluring voice consume not just the room but himself, he saw he was wrong. In-ho's mouth opens more, his teeth—perfect, and his eyes make those faint lines at the edges as he laughs more; everything is sincere and —stunning.

None of it is mockery.

And strangely, Gi-hun found himself smiling, too. It's nothing intended. But it was there before Gi-hun himself could even comprehend his own, his lips curving in a smile, pulled by the moment, by the beauty of the laughter of Hwang In-ho. It made him forget everything, even his own misery, for such a short period by simply being drawn by him.

His laughter was captivating. It was warm, raspy, and powerful, consuming the room entirely. The man may have been a stranger, but Gi-hun was sure this was a rare phenomenon, one that seconds must not be wasted relishing.

In-ho grabbed his chest as he felt it rise and fall, his laughter continuing to escape uncontrollably. It had been a long time since he’d laughed like this. It felt refreshing. Somehow, it felt healing.

Although being unserious wasn’t part of his demeanor, his earlier remark had been a joke, half-serious nonsense, really. It was just something blurted out in the moment, meant to be taken lightly.

Now, however, he found himself in an unpredictable situation. Sitting across from him was a man he barely knew. Too thin for his own good, clumsy enough to wreak havoc wherever he went, and desperate enough to care about nothing else.

“A pet, huh?” he murmured softly, giggles still vibrating faintly in his throat as he tilted his head to get a better look at the man sitting before him.

“I must confess, I said it on a whim. I honestly don’t have the slightest idea what comes after an acceptance.” His voice was calmer now, his chair swiveling slightly as he spoke. Then, narrowing his gaze with a hint of amusement, he added, “Perhaps this isn’t your first time being a pet, by any chance?”

His thumb rested thoughtfully against his teeth as he studied Gi-hun, the question lingering in the air. “My words may be empty, and so are my expectations, so perhaps your own definition is a better starting point. What does being a pet mean to you?”

Gi-hun could only stare back in confusion. He was in the same state, completely relying on his tongue to rattle off words, hoping they formed a sensible answer, especially when logic, reason, and even God seemed to have abandoned him. Coming up with a reason to justify it was a whole other challenge. He could be honest and say the best thing that came to mind, even if it made him look more pathetic. After all, this was his reality, and there wasn’t much else to say.

Being a pet felt better than being himself right now. He grimaced at the thought..

A knock interrupted them. Moments later, a man in a tight navy-blue suit stepped in. His composed demeanor faltered for a brief second as he took in the scene before him: the barely presentable stranger who had caused accidents just a while ago was casually seated and eating across from the CEO. His eyes widened in apparent shock, but he quickly masked it, focusing on In-ho with practiced professionalism.

He gave a small nod, a silent request for permission to proceed. In-ho tilted his head slightly, granting it.

The man stepped closer, bowing respectfully before speaking. "Sir, my fiancée, Jun-hee, was in a minor accident earlier.” He paused, clenching his fist to hold off the urge to punch the person eating freely who caused it. “She was already seen by the clinic, and she’s doing well overall. However, considering her sensitive pregnancy… I’d like to request a temporary leave to attend to her needs."

A bead of sweat formed on the man’s temple as he awaited a response. Gi-hun, still quietly eating, could feel the weight of the moment. He glanced nervously at the suited man, then at In-ho, sensing the gravity of the situation even though it had nothing to do with him.

"Okay," In-ho said simply.

The secretary blinked, visibly thrown off balance. His posture faltered as he hesitated, unsure if he had heard correctly. "It’s...approved?" he asked cautiously, his voice tinged with disbelief.

In-ho raised an eyebrow, his tone sharpening. "Do my words leave room for interpretation?"

Realizing his misstep, the secretary straightened immediately, bowing deeper. "Of course, sir. Thank you."

"Only..." In-ho’s voice cut through the man’s relief like a blade, halting his mini-celebration. "This man here-" he gestured toward Gi-hun, who froze mid-bite, "-give him a uniform. For the time being, he’ll be my personal attendant. Inform everyone. And for any important documents, send them to me before officially filing your leave. Kyung-suk will handle the rest if needed."

Gi-hun stared, wide-eyed, as the weight of In-ho’s words sank in.

The secretary turned to glance at Gi-hun, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he composed himself again. "Understood, sir. I’ll make the arrangements."

In-ho nodded dismissively, and the man bowed once more before retreating from the room, leaving Gi-hun and In-ho alone once again.

Gi-hun gulped, setting down his chopsticks. "Me? Your... personal attendant?"

In-ho leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Yes. Can’t declare to the world I’ve taken a human pet, can we?"

……

Gi-hun was left alone in the CEO’s office the moment the secretary stepped out, and soon In-ho followed to attend to business matters. Hwang In-ho, the CEO—if the gold nameplate on the desk hadn’t already made it obvious—had left him with a business card and a sleek black key card.

Standing there in the empty office, Gi-hun started to understand just how powerful this man was. Even someone like the secretary, who seemed so composed and authoritative, couldn’t compare to the natural charisma and commanding presence of In-ho. But for a brief moment, when it was just the two of them, Gi-hun had caught a glimpse of a more relaxed side of the man. He could only hope he’d get to see more of that side instead of the intimidating one.

He looked down at the black key card in his hand, its glossy surface catching the light. It felt extravagant, like one of those exclusive black credit cards billionaires carried. It didn’t feel right holding it, even though it was just a pass to In-ho’s place...or their place now.

His home as a pet.

The word still felt strange and a little humiliating. But Gi-hun didn’t have much of a choice. He’d been hopping from one friend’s place to another, freeloading wherever he could, and this was the first time he had a roof over his head that wasn’t temporary. If nothing else, he might as well enjoy the perks of being a “pet.” And considering the penthouse was connected to the building where he might still get a maintenance job, this arrangement didn’t seem like the worst deal in the world.

He thought about Jung-bae, his friend who had helped him land this opportunity in the first place. Gi-hun hoped he hadn’t ruined Jung-bae’s reputation with his earlier mess. If he ever got the chance, he’d repay him somehow.

His thoughts were interrupted when the secretary, Myung-gi, returned. The man didn’t look thrilled to see him. In fact, his expression was the definition of annoyed, with a hint of reluctant pity.

By now, Gi-hun had figured out why. The pregnant woman he’d accidentally bumped into earlier was Myung-gi’s fiancée. That explained the cold treatment, and honestly, Gi-hun couldn’t blame him. Even though the incident wasn’t entirely his fault, there was no point in trying to justify it.

“Sorry again, Myung-gi,” Gi-hun muttered, keeping his eyes low.

The secretary sighed; his face still tight with annoyance. “Just leave it. It was an accident,” he said sharply. Then, after a pause, he added, “Though I did use you as an excuse to let the CEO vent his stress. But strangely, you’ve left a different impression on him.”

Gi-hun frowned in confusion, but Myung-gi didn’t elaborate. Instead, they continued walking through the building. Gi-hun could feel the stares from the other staff, their eyes full of curiosity and judgment. He did his best to shrink into himself, offering small, awkward smiles while Myung-gi pointed out the important areas of the office.

“My wife,” Myung-gi began, his tone softening as he spoke the word. He hesitated for a moment, a small smile creeping onto his face. “She’s fine. It was just her usual dizziness. Honestly, the accident was a good excuse for me to leave and take care of her. So, in a way… thanks.”

Before Gi-hun could respond, Myung-gi shoved a stack of uniforms into his arms.

“Monday to Wednesday is color-coded. Thursday to Saturday is more flexible. Not that I expect you to actually do any real work here. Just keep the CEO happy. That’s all anyone cares about.”

With that, the conversation was over.

Gi-hun spent the rest of the day eating free food in the cafeteria and trying on the uniforms Myung-gi had given him. When he couldn’t find anything else to do, he decided to explore the residential building connected to the office tower.

It took him almost two hours to find his way to the penthouse. The bridge between the two buildings was harder to locate than he’d expected, and by the time he finally reached the top floor, the sun was already setting.

The penthouse was like something out of a movie. It had its own private pool, a jacuzzi, and even palm trees on the balcony. The main bedroom was sleek and minimalist, all black and white. There were bookshelves lining the walls, a wine cellar, and a spiral staircase leading to another level.

Gi-hun didn’t have the energy to explore it all. Instead, he wandered into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards until he found some plain bread. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to fill the gnawing emptiness in his stomach.

After eating, he slouched onto the couch, letting himself sink into the soft cushions. The day felt like a blur, unreal and exhausting. He thought about In-ho, knowing the man would show up eventually. As a “pet,” it was probably his job to greet him properly.

“In the end, a pet is still just a companion, right?” Gi-hun mumbled to himself, his voice fading as sleep crept in. Before he knew it, he was out.

…..

In-ho spent the day with an unexpected but successful meeting—nothing less than he expected. He managed everything perfectly and even had a few casual drinks to celebrate with important delegates. As midnight approached, he was thankful his place was just one elevator away at the top floor of his workplace.

In-Ho walk straight to his room like a thoughtless routine of his body. He lay in his cold, empty king-sized bed on his side without a bother of removing his shoes or even his tie and suit. It was past midnight, and he had to wake up early again—just a few hours of sleep, like always. His body settled easily into the cold room.

Oddlly, he let out a shiver, too loud, enough to pull him from his drowsy haze. His eyes opened, landing on the far side of the window, the city lights shimmering in the distance. As beautiful as the view was, he didn’t have the energy or the mood to appreciate it. Right now, it was just a light distraction, a small one, from the rest he’d barely had. He was about to force himself to sit up and fix it when something caught his eye from the corner of his vision.

Ah.

His pet. He completely forgot.

Gi-hun sat with his knees pulled up, hugging them close to his chest as he coped with the cold room. He likely just woke up with eyes a bit swollen and still sleepy. He was at the couch, staring sleepily at the ceiling-high window, lost in thought. So absorbed in his own world, he hadn’t noticed that In-ho was watching him.

In-ho couldn’t take his eyes off him. His face, dimly lit by the city lights, looked fragile, round cheeks that, despite the evident malnutrition, sagged in a way that made him appear even more vulnerable, sad. His large eyes were fixated on the outside world, longing for something, anything, beyond the room.

"Pet." The owner called out almost a whisper.

Gi-hun turned to look at him, and In-ho was taken aback by the rawness in his gaze. It wasn’t something he was used to—not in this world where everyone was polished, prim, and proper, their emotions hidden behind carefully constructed masks. Gi-hun’s eyes were opposite. Unfiltered and unguarded. There was no pretense, no shield to hide the sadness, the exhaustion, the brokenness.

It struck In-ho. How clear and vulnerable Gi-hun looked, like an open book. Something so rare it was both beautiful and devastating. Simpleton indeed, almost likes an actual pet. A stark contrast to the world In-ho was used to, where everyone wore their own disguises to carry the weight of their lives.

“Do you like the view?” In-ho asked, breaking the silence.

Gi-hun turned his gaze back to the window, to the lights of the busy streets far below. Though the glass muted the chaos, he could imagine the bustle, the noise of a city that never truly slept.

“It’s alright. It’s pretty,” he replied simply, his tone soft and just factual.

In-ho shifted slightly, propping his head up with one hand as he glanced out at the same view. Objectively, it was nothing special. But with someone like Gi-hun beside him, even the most ordinary things seemed to shift, as though a different perspective and a different kind of company breathed new life into them.

“Come here,” In-ho ordered, patting the space beside him.

Without hesitation, Gi-hun moved. He slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, settling exactly where he had been directed.  He long forgot to properly greet his master as he plans to. He just feels old and tired to care for the time being. His master has claimed an old, abandoned pet. Hopefully with all rich he owns; he wouldn’t mind if he can only offer his complete submission of this very old bones.

“Pet,” In-ho murmured, his voice softer now. “You’re killing me, looking at me like that. Relax. Lay with me. Grab a pillow if you need to. Rest with me.”

Gi-hun hesitated for only a moment before lying down, his head close but not quite touching In-ho’s. The tension in the room melted away, replaced by something far more intimate: quiet comfort, born of shared loneliness and the need for respite, even if only for a fleeting moment.   There was no awkwardness between them, just trust and an unspoken understanding. Two weary souls seeking warmth, perhaps.

Gi-hun closed his eyes. The bed’s softness could easily swallow the heaviness of his body, letting him forget his own weight. The whole day felt surreal, straight out of a dream with how nonsensical it was, ending with him being comfortably warm beside a complete stranger.

His breathing slowed, growing steady as he started to relax. A hand gently pulled the blanket over him, covering him up to his neck. Fingers brushed against his chin, momentarily stirring him, but he was too drowsy to react. Instead, it only made him scoot closer to the source of warmth.

He got a job. A referral one. He started the day with an empty stomach, drinking only bitter coffee from a small store where he had an unpaid tab. He had so many loans now that even the memory of his daughter’s face was slipping away from him. His mother had died. He was drowning in debt. Loan sharks were always close behind. And every time he thought he was fixing his life, something would drag him back. Like chains pulling him down over and over again.

Still, Gi-hun was delusional enough to stay optimistic. It was the only way he could stop himself from completely falling apart and try to survive another day. This one chance at a proper job, even if it was just maintenance work, felt like a new start. If it didn’t work out, then he might as well end it all. No kidding. He laughed at the thought, but deep down, he’d decided: if life ruined this last chance, he’d give up on everything.

And everything did fail miserably just as he feared.

The moment he walked into the building, chaos greeted him. There was a fight happening between some of the staff and an outsider. Gi-hun barely understood what was going on, but somehow, it seemed like he was already involved. Overwhelmed, he tried to run, only to accidentally knock into a pregnant woman and cause her to fall. She ended up getting hurt.

A man wearing a secretary’s name tag rushed forward, seething with anger. He picked up the injured woman and shot Gi-hun a sharp, disdainful glare.

“You’ve caused enough chaos already. Might as well carry all this up to the boss and let him kill you personally.”

The man handed him everything he was carrying, files, papers, and a mess of belongings, before walking away with the pregnant woman.

Gi-hun stood frozen, his arms full and his mind racing. He barely understood what was happening, but he knew one thing: his only option now was to go to the top floor and face whatever was waiting for him. Running back wasn’t an option. Not with the guards after him.

And now, he was here, in the comforting arms of someone who was a threat to everyone else. Yet, their presence felt so warm and gentle to him. They gave him peace simply by ordering him, knowing he had no choice in the matter. Complete surrender felt like freedom to this man.

Gi-hun felt fingers gently threading his bangs. He didn’t dare open his eyes, too tired and too comfortable in his current state. Instead, he let out a soft moan of contentment. He could barely register his companion’s reaction, but the hands continued, gently tucking his long hair behind his ear, pulling him closer to sleep.

“What fluffy hair you have,” In-ho whispered, his voice soft as his pet leaned below his chin. “It’s messy, yet so dry.” He carefully held the strands of hair, tucking them behind Gi-hun’s ear with a tender touch.

A soft moan escaped Gi-hun, and In-ho wasn’t sure if it was a sound of pleasure or a subtle denial. He had every right to do as he wished with Gi-hun—his pet, technically. Though their exact relationship was still unclear, they had naturally fallen into this weird state of comfort, with no need for definitions. It felt freeing, even if it was vague.

Gi-hun pressed his head further against In-ho’s chest. The warmth of his breath relaxes In-ho and made him yawn loudly. He grabbed his phone, typing something briefly, and then lay down beside Gi-hun. He had never thought his cold room would feel warmer with another body next to him. He let his chest rise and fall with Gi-hun’s steady breathing, the two of them syncing in silence. A soft ding from his phone sounded, but In-ho was already fast asleep.

In-ho: I’ve found a pet.

Hyun-ju: Good. What kind of pet?

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

11 pm.

Gi-hun lay in his bed with the blanket pulled up to his chest, his eyes still wide as he stared at the ceiling. The bed was spacious and soft, surrounded by multiple pillows, yet sleep seemed far away. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from his day still coursing through him, preventing any rest.

Upon his arrival, he noticed that a new, larger refrigerator had been added to their main kitchen. It was filled with a variety of foods, half of them prepackaged meals. He took one and ate alone, in silence. After finishing, he gathered his belongings left in In ho’s room and packed them into his own room downstairs. The room was big and refined, clearly a guest room. There was a queen-sized bed, and piles of clothes and boxes were neatly arranged: casual wear for home, jackets, wool cardigans, rubber shoes, socks, undergarments, another pair of brown leather shoes, work suits and pants, and even wristwatches. The room also had a mini fridge, a balcony, a basic grooming kit, towels and robes, perfumes, and more. It was so furnished and spotless that he could be locked in there and still live comfortably.

He let out a sigh in awe. Holding the fancy black silk pajama, he felt as though the garment should be insulted for having to be worn by him. He shivered; the temperature in his room and indeed in every room of the penthouse was always too cold for him, so he set it a little warmer.

Soon he changed into his nightwear. It was so thin and lightweight against his skin that it felt cool yet somehow warmed him from within. He ran both hands over himself like a self-hug, savoring the feel of silk against his body.

After that, he slid under his blanket and tried to sleep. An hour passed as he forced his eyes closed yet sleep still eluded him. He wondered if In ho had already arrived and was settling in upstairs, perhaps sleeping as he had yesterday, able to simply lie down without changing out of his work clothes, with barely a blanket in a cold room, and drifting off immediately. 'Good for him,' Gi-hun thought, a tinge of jealousy in comparison to his own state.

He sat up, lit the lamp on the bedside table, opened its drawer, and retrieved the envelope Gyeongsuk had given him today. An uncontrollable smile formed on his lips as he held the contract papers and his ID. He’d made it. With his pay, he would send part of it to his daughter. Though he still had a long way to go to completely pay off his debts, this was a start, a clean start with decent earnings. He was proud of himself for still existing and being here.

Soon, with hopeful thoughts and daydreams, he was finally lulled to sleep.

…

Gi-hun held bundles of money and carefully placed them in a small envelope. Dressed nicely in a shirt and the suit jacket In ho had given him, he fixed his posture and sat properly, as he had practiced working in the office. He now sat at a coffeeshop decorated with tons of potted plants, mainly white camellias and dark blue poppies. He glanced at his wristwatch, then outside, where the sun was high and the sky a brilliant blue. Any moment now, Gayeong would meet him, the first time in five years.

He had brought a toy car, something of much better quality than what he had given her before they parted. It was childish of him, but he thought it would serve as a good keepsake of his past gift. His heart swelled with joy mixed with nervousness as he waited, but eventually everything subsided. He felt like a broken cup, its cracks slowly widening as its contents dripped away until it was empty. He waited, one, two, three hours. By the afternoon, no one came to open the door to meet him.

Defeated, he stood, and as he was about to leave, still holding the door, laughter sounded. Looking toward its source, he found someone seemingly near and yet far, staring and smirking.

He stepped outside and stood, simply looking at the stranger with a devious expression.

“Gayeong?” he uttered. “Is that you, Gayeong?” he repeated, questioning as he stumbled forward yet never quite reaching her.

An insulting smirk played on her lips. “Is that toy for me? And money?” she remarked with a scoff of mockery.

Gi-hun continued walking, his pace growing faster and more erratic, yet he never answered, only maintaining his gaze, terrified of losing sight of his daughter.

“You have money now, and you’ll pay your way back?” Her smile faltered and transformed into anger, her eyes glaring at him.

Gi-hun started to run. Tears flowed, soaking him. He gasped as he struggled to reach her, but she remained out of reach.

“Money is all you think about. You lost us before already. You chose to lose us. You chose to wreck our family. You chose to leave me,” she cried in outrage.

Gi-hun could only watch in suffering from afar, never once stopping to chase. Then a group of students approached his daughter.

Faceless and laughing at him, they asked, “Who is he?”

“No one,” his daughter replied, looking at him. “He's just no one.”

The words twisted his heart, and he gripped his chest in torment. He collapsed, barely able to sit as intense emotions distorted his insides. It hurt, too painful to take another breath. Still, his eyes strained to follow the blurred image of his daughter in the distance. She was moving, stepping away, leaving him with a faint smile on her face. His mouth opened, and he screamed her name in agony, but only silence. It remained only in his own brain echoing, vibrating and piercing every nerve. It was a pain unheard by the world.

Then a kick to the face made his jaw lock. Another pang in his head disoriented him completely. Tears clouded his vision as blood surged across his face, blinding him. People surrounded him, mere shadows in his dead eyes. They kicked his stomach repeatedly, and then one of them grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to kneel. Sharp, cold objects pierced him. He couldn’t tell where or how many. He looked down lifelessly. Everything was red. Not only on his bloodied face but also in the wet warmth on his hands and the concrete beneath him. He could only feel his blood pooling, making a mess in public—a dirt on the world.

Belittling laughter arose from those around him. They were familiar. How could he forget? They were the people who had once befriended him, loaned him money, and then hunted him down. And now they had finally reached him, ending their cat-and-mouse game.

This was it. It was always meant to end like this. He was nothing but one trash less in this world. It was a favor for his life to end.

Then the sound of footsteps approached, a familiar, smooth, and striking rhythm.

A figure sat down and leaned on Gi-hun’s almost lifeless body on the ground.

“Look at you. Nothing but a dying wretch on the street, right where you belong. But that’s alright, you’re just a pathetic pet.”

Gi-hun jerked awake, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding so loudly it echoed in his ears. Panic surged through him, suffocating him with each breath. Gasping for air, he fought to steady himself, his hands clutching his chest as if trying to hold his frantic heart in place. His body trembled uncontrollably, choking on each desperate inhale.

....

Gi-hun found himself climbing the stairs back to the top floor of the penthouse. He paused for a moment after reaching In ho’s room door, but soon he walked away and headed straight to the kitchen. He wanted something for his stomach, probably coffee. His eyes were swollen and dried from tears, and his hair was a mess with sweat still lingering, but he was more collected now. The panic had subsided, aside nightmares were nothing new to him, common occurrences when life seemed to be getting even a little better. They were a small, gripping reminder of his reality, pulling him back to his actual state and position in this world—a mere, meaningless man, a lowly human. His nightmares were a mirror of his life, flashing back his past mixed with his fears, morphing into something cinematic and adrenaline fueled in his night experiences. Ah, what a life he had.

He just needed coffee or something warm to soothe his stomach and throat, and then he hoped that sleep would finally come, that was all that mattered and what little he can do right now.

Rambling in the kitchen, trying to figure out how the complicated coffee maker worked, Gi hun stood quietly and frustrated.

“Pet, it’s 3 a.m.” A soft, tired voice echoed behind him.

Gi-hun turned and found In ho standing in the doorway. In ho smiled, a small, amused smile, but then it slowly faded as he took a closer look at Gi-hun’s face.

“You cried? What happened?” In-ho asked as he moved closer, almost cornering him.

Gi-hun diverted his gaze back to the coffee maker, avoiding eye contact. “Just a nightmare,” he answered softly and timidly. “It’s a normal thing,” he added, as if offering an explanation, and In-ho accepted without pressing further.

In ho sighed, a loud yawn and covered his mouth with his hand. “And the coffee?” he asked.

Gi-hun was a bit confused, was In-ho questioning why coffee, or noting his inability to make it? “Uhm… I’m just used to drinking coffee when I have these nightmares,” he answered slowly, unsure if his response was correct.

In-ho stepped even closer too close for casual space. He grabbed the blanket draped over Gi-hun’s back and shoulder, folded into a makeshift shawl, pulled it, and arranged it around Gi-hun’s chest, trying to wrap him better. A smile returned to his face, and Gi-hun, noticing, tightened his arms around the blanket.

“How about hot tea instead?”

Gi-hun was sitting on In ho’s room couch, his legs up and his blanket spread to cover him from neck to feet. The room was as cold as he remembered, at least, as cold as it was when In ho was not with him. He became flustered by his own thoughts but quickly shook off the idea.

Soon, In ho entered carrying mugs in both hands. Gi-hun followed him until he was sitting beside him on the long couch, and In-ho offered him the hot tea. He accepted, letting the scent waft over him before taking a small sip. It was chamomile, and it tasted good. He sighed in satisfaction.

Seeing Gi-hun’s mouth part in a relieved sigh and noticing his shoulders loosen beneath the thick blanket, In-ho finally freed his gaze from him and took a sip of his own tea.

He had another business matters to attend that it takes him to return midnight again. Tired, hungry, sleepy, and still none of it was attended as he lay flat and unmoving in his room. His gnawing headache is back. Although he had made an effort to stand and take some medicine, it wasn’t working. The pain pulsed deep within him, making him wonder if it wasn’t physical at all, but rather mental. He huffed at its ridiculousness. The medicine was simply adapting and growing weak in its effectiveness; it might not have provided much relief, but at least it had made him sleep for a short while.

He felt cold. Stumbling into his bed, frustrated that he was awake again, he removed his tie and forcefully kicked his shoes until they flew off somewhere. It was almost 2 a.m. His headache temporarily gone, but now he felt numb from the cold and felt uneasy. He propped a pillow behind his head, and, glancing at the empty space beside him, he finds the pillow Gi-hun had used last night, he grabs it and laid it beside him. He then proceeded to hug the pillow, but it offered nothing as warm as he desired. He then sat up again, pulled the blanket over him to his waist, and resumed hugging the pillow at his side.

He closed his eyes, but they soon opened again. They rested on the high ceiling window; this time, the curtain was fully closed, leaving no distracting light he can blame. His gaze was then drawn to the couch nearby, the one where his pet had longingly stared out the window last night. His pet’s hair was fluffy and long, a bit disheveled and frizzy, but with a little wash it would be softer and more pleasant to touch, maybe even to smell. This morning when he woke up his nose was settling on his pet's hair. He can't fully describe it, but it smells heat. Like sun have enjoyed lingering on him. It wasn’t bad, yet it showed how little he took care of himself. Better yet, someone like In-ho hasn’t come to his life to take care of him. But he was now.

The thought of his pet flowed smoothly through his mind, soothing him, and with that, drowsiness slowly returned.

He was warm too...really warm in skin and… he mumbles in his mind before he completely drifted off.

Some soft footsteps and small clattering sounds stirred him. In ho woke up for the second time, more concerned about the noise than his disturbed sleep. Gi-hun. It was definitely his pet, for it was impossible for any trespasser to set foot in this penthouse, not even his brother or an emergency attendant would dare. He found himself moving as soon as his mind could barely make sense.

His pet was there, having a fight with the coffeemaker, leaning slightly, with a blanket folded around his back like a warmer.

Adorable.

He called out to him.

As his pet faced him, In ho’s smile faltered in concern. His pet had just cried, and he wasn’t there to console him. In ho felt exasperated with himself for choosing to let his pet have a place other than beside him. He felt irresponsible. He felt wrong.

Sitting with his pet now, sipping tea in silence, In ho felt reluctant and perplexed about what to do. He didn’t want to force his pet to open up, and the gap between them felt like a bigger obstruction than it should be. He just wanted to pull that rag out of him and replace it with himself. He was tired, he couldn’t deny that his body was weakening, but he still tried to remain composed and be there for his pet. If only they could settle into a comforting state like the other night and let their worries fade into the darkness. He felt selfish for even thinking it.

“I can lend you an ear. Having tea in this silence, with company, feels off,” In-ho said as he returned to face Gi-hun. “Just if you want to…maybe I can help in some ways.”

There was still a heavy silence, but In ho remained fixated, gazing at the man beside him. He might have said that silence was unsettling, yet he could simply stare at him and feel complete contentment, enough to calm him and lull him back to sleep.

Then a smile. Gi-hun smiled as he pressed his lips against his mug.

Ahh… In-ho caught his breath, mesmerized by that single smile.

“I’m happy you’re here with me, In-ho,” Gi-hun said, his mouth still on the mug as he stared into the emptiness ahead. “You... you're a good reminder of the difference between dreams and reality.”

“Am I such a monster in your sleep for you to say that? What did I ever do?” In ho teased.

Gi-hun chuckled, a beautiful sound that rang in In ho’s ears.

“You said I'm nothing but a dying wretch, that I'm just a pet meant to be nothing, something along those lines,” Gi-hun said, pouting as he spoke. “And you said it while I was on the street, bleeding out.”

Gi-hun found it funny how In ho’s face morphed into an expression of both disgust and confusion, a new look he had never seen before. He felt special for being able to draw such a reaction from the handsome CEO.

“That is definitely a morbid nightmare,” In-ho remarked, shaking his head as if trying to erase the thought. “Well, know that I can be a bit bossy, intimidating, indifferent, and sometimes even narcissistic,” he explained, pausing to emphasize each trait. “But I am also logical enough to understand the basic value of life. Beyond status, labels, or race, a life is a life, and it is valuable. So your dreams are definitely invalid. And most importantly, you’re not a mere pet to me. If you die in my hands, I might burn the world.”

Gi-hun listened, touched by how sincere In ho was being, but the last sentence felt too strong even for a metaphor, something that perhaps should never have even been in In ho's mouth to begin with. But nonetheless, it was said as sincere as his previous words.

“That’s... that's a bit much. Just buy me a three-by-eight-foot plot where I can rest in peace. And…” Gi-hun began unserious, almost laughing, but paused as he considered the possibility of his nightmares still becoming reality. “And it might be too much to ask, but I want my daughter to be able to visit my grave too. So, I'll leave that to—” He was interrupted by In ho.

“NO,” he said firmly, his tone laced with fury. “I won't allow you to die." he added eyes pained, directly at Gi-hun as if to make him more understand the impact of his words to him. "And just—just stop these nonsense thoughts. Think of solutions rather than sinking into your troubles. You have me. Hwang In-ho, if you don't remember—use me.” he was frustrated but it seemed like it was also a plea fro Gi-hun.

Gi-hun only looked down, clutching his blanket tightly against his chest.

“You’ve done more than enough. It would be wrong to further intrude on you…” he said weakly.

“Seung, Gi-hun, look at me,” In-ho ordered, and Gi-hun could only comply, forcing himself to look up.

“I command you to lay out your troubles so I can help fix them,” In ho said. Gi-hun's face still looked reluctant and troubled.

“You won't be able to work properly when you're carrying burdens beyond yourself. Don't you trust me to help?” In ho asked.

There was a cold silence, but In ho remains patient and waited.

“I... I have a debt with loan sharks, and I'm running away from them. Plus, some debt with banks too—it's about 255 million won right now,” he exclaimed, ashamed and feeling worse with every passing second. His heartbeat quickened again, and panic threatened to set in.

In-ho sensed it and grabbed one of Gi-hun’s hands, firmly gripping it. “Got it. I'll handle that,” he said matter-of factly, his grip tightening until he could feel Gi-hun’s finger bones grinds together under his palms. In ho looked intently at Gi-hun as he did so, never loosening his hold.

“O... ouch!” Gi-hun exclaimed after a while, and In ho immediately released his grasp. Gi-hun looked at him, pouting in bewildered confusion.

“Do you breathe alright?” In ho asked, and Gi-hun placed his hand on his chest and took a deep breath. He nodded, indicating he was alright.

“Not panicking?” In-ho asked again, more concerned. Gi-hun blinked and took a moment to check his state. He actually felt a little better than when he had nearly started panicking. The tingling pain in his hands had somehow diverted his attention and halted his panic. He held his hand; aside from the pain, it was warm and beginning to get sweaty.

“I’m a little better,” Gi-hun claimed, prompting In ho to nod in relief.

“I’m sorry for doing that so abruptly. I hope it grounded you for a bit,” In ho explained.

“As I said, I’ll handle that debt of yours. No more buts,” he reprimanded Gi-hun again. “If it’s just money, it’s not a problem for me. And to make you feel better, I’m not paying it for free; the loan will simply be transferred, and you'll be in debt to me. At least, compared to the loan sharks, I won’t need any interest.” or at least not in that kind of interest.

There was silence afterward. In-ho wouldn’t accept thanks for a problem that wasn’t entirely fixed, merely patched with a temporary solution. In the end, it was still entirely up to Gi-hun to work it out, and In-ho wouldn’t take credit for it. Gi-hun understood that, so he remained quiet, simply staring at In ho with unspoken appreciation, and perhaps something more in his gaze had been released.

The two of them continued sipping their teas in the middle of the night. Sleep had long since passed them by. The tea was no longer hot, yet neither mug was finished. In ho’s eyes remained locked on Gi-hun entirely, and Gi-hun, though weak, managed to return occasional glances. The couch grew warmer as they spent more time together, it was comforting, yet still not enough.

“Lay down on me and I'll pet you,” In-ho offered suddenly, as if the words had slipped out without thought. Nonetheless, they were out, and it was up to Gi-hun to react.

Gi-hun gazed wistfully, yet remained unmoving. His actions spoke for him—silent as if to say no. No, he shouldn’t step further and let himself be consumed. And yet his eyes were completely taken, allured and swallowed. His hands trembled, eager to move and be drawn, while his mouth held its breath, preventing the truth from escaping. But everything was there in silence, before In6ho, waiting for him to read it, for him to answer on his behalf, for a meager pet like him lacked the capacity to decide.

In-ho caught the unspoken.

He allowed his body to respond. He leaned forward, letting his fingers slip around Gi-hun’s waist, capturing him, holding him, and pulling him closer until their weight caused them to succumb to the edge of the couch. Gi-hun landed on top of him, his head resting on In-ho’s chest, while his hands clutched at In ho’s sides as they fell. In ho’s grasp was unyielding. Gi-hun raised his head only to meet In-ho’s gaze, a look that made him withdraw, hiding his face in his chest as In ho’s grip tightened further on the one who longed to escape.

As Gi-hun submitted and let his body melt onto In ho, his breathing and heartbeat synchronized comfortably with the man below. In-ho’s arms and legs secured his position, their bodies pressed together; the contact of their skin felt like a tingling fire warming the night. In ho began playing with Gi-hun’s hair again.

“So, how’s your first day at work?” he asked.

Chapter Text

"Let’s have dinner together. Wait for me tonight."

Pet…

In-ho whispered the last word, just barely mouthing it as he stepped halfway out of the office door. But then, his head and one hand returned, just to deliver that message. He was with Kyungsuk, leaving for an event, so In-ho wouldn’t be at the office with him the whole day. Gyeongsuk was already a step ahead, but In-ho popped back just to say that—leaving him with a tender smile and a lingering gaze.

Gi-hun stood there, speechless, not even offering a bow of acknowledgment to his superior. He just stayed there, absorbing it all, the unspoken meaning behind In-ho’s words. The mutual longing.

It had been more than two weeks since he started working at the office, and also weeks of him and In-ho sharing a bed, letting down their physical barriers at night. Indulging in the heat they created together. The simple presence of a companion had become so natural that they slipped into each other, bodies tangled like a jigsaw puzzle, perfectly fitting.

It always began with In-ho’s hands wrapping around him from behind, fingers tracing his chest and stomach slowly. Sometimes, they would wander, slipping under his shirt, fingertips brushing the little fat he was slowly gaining. Other times, his palms would rest right over Gi-hun’s heart, fingers strumming gently on his skin, pulse to heartbeat. Then his legs would drape over Gi-hun’s hips, twisting like vines, locking him in place. Finally, his head would press against the back of Gi-hun’s, nose roaming, lips grazing, starting at his hair, trailing down to his nape, then to his shoulders. In-ho would breathe him in, leaving warmth at every stop.

It was a slow tease. A game In-ho created, meant only for the two of them. In-ho would ask about his day at work, praise him, and shower him with compliments, all while guiding both of their bodies into comfort. Gi-hun, like a puppet, let himself be completely controlled, unquestioning, only relishing in the euphoria of their current state. Of an unofficial contract, of being a master and a pet.

The fire they kindled in the quiet of In-ho’s bed never dared to escape beyond the sheets, a warmth meant only for them, growing stronger with every night it stayed. But soon, the embers, restless and unyielding, would slip past the edges of their room, eager to ignite the world beyond.

And it was Gi-hun who freed the first.

Gi-hun was busy doing data entry that afternoon. He actually enjoyed this kind of work, it kept him focused, made time move faster, and, best of all, wasn’t physically demanding like filing folders or running errands between departments. Though he liked interacting with people on the lower floors, there was something peaceful about being alone in the office, undisturbed.

Checking his wristwatch, he noticed it was almost 4 p.m. His work was nearly done. Taking a break, he sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair, feeling satisfied. Another productive day. With a small grin, he swiveled his chair in a full 360-degree spin, raising his hands in a silent victory cheer. It spun a little too much, making him dizzy, so he grabbed the desk to steady himself, chuckling under his breath.

 Then, his phone buzzed. A message.

 Can you call me when you’re free?

 An unregistered number. Since it was a company phone, he assumed it was a coworker needing something, so he didn’t think twice before dialing back.

 "Hello, it's Gi-hun. You called?"

 Silence.

 He waited, patient but slightly puzzled.

 "Do you have anything for me to work on?" he asked again. Still nothing.

"If this is a misdial, I’ll have to hang up and get back to work," he added, bringing the phone away from his ear, thumb hovering over the button—

 “Dad?”

 Gi-hun froze.

 The office, the chair beneath him, even the air itself seemed to vanish.

 The voice, older, softer, but unmistakable,.cut through him.

“It’s me, Ga-yeong.”

 His breath hitched.

 His body refused to move; his mind refused to believe. The room around him warped, the bright afternoon light outside the top floor window suddenly dizzying. His fingers trembled against the phone.

 This had to be a dream. A cruel, twisted dream that would turn into a nightmare the moment he reached out.

 But her voice—her voice was real. Calling him Dad.

His knees buckled. He slumped down onto the cold floor, his body too weak to hold him upright. His vision blurred, not from dizziness, but from tears. His lips parted, but no words came, just a ragged, broken breath.

 Tears welled, then spilled. His chest ached, his entire being overwhelmed by the weight of regret, longing, and the years lost between them.

 "Dad? Please don’t cry… I’ll cry too," Ga-yeong’s voice wavered, thick with emotion.

 Gi-hun let out a shaky, strangled sob. He pressed his palm against his mouth, but it couldn’t contain the sound, couldn’t stop the flood. “Ga-yeong… my sweet child… Oh god, it’s really you…”

 “Dad… I miss you,” she choked out, her own tears breaking through. “It’s been so long. Why didn’t you call? I’ve waited… I’m still waiting.”

 "I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry," he could only repeat, voice shaking, breaking.

 “No, Dad, please… You’re here now. We can talk. I’m just…happy.”

 His throat was too tight, his emotions too raw. He wanted to say so much, but words felt too small for the weight of it all.

 “Dad,” she whispered, voice both gentle and pleading, “You’re sorry. That’s enough. I accept your apology… I just want my dad back. Please.”

 Gi-hun squeezed his eyes shut, more tears falling. He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. His body shook with silent sobs, his free hand clutching the phone like it was the only thing holding him to reality.

 And even through the silence, Ga-yeong understood. Like always, she did.

….

It was fifteen minutes before 5 p.m. when In-ho and Gyeongsuk returned to the building. Without realizing it, his steps quickened, longer and more urgent than usual. But even then, he still carried himself with that same composed, sharp presence.

 His pet had been working at the office for almost half a month now, steadily settling in, getting used to the routine. And every night, he came home. To him. That was something In-ho found himself looking forward to.

 That second night, when Gi-hun had let himself break open, raw and vulnerable, something between them shifted, like a seal breaking. There was no hesitation, no overthinking. They just gave in, drawn to each other, craving warmth and comfort. And when that craving was finally met, it felt inevitable to stop.

In-ho had been the one to take the first step, the action, the decision, but he could feel it in Gi-hun too. The way his body softened against him, how he leaned into his touch instead of pulling away. That was enough for In-ho to believe it. Here, in his arms, with no one else between them, shaping him into something that felt right—this was mutual.

That morning, In-ho had carried him to bed, cradling his weight effortlessly. He hadn’t been able to sleep after their conversation on the couch, with Gi-hun draped over him like he belonged there. And in that quiet moment, he had decided—this was where Gi-hun was meant to be. In his bed. In his arms.

But that was in their home. In his room.

Out here, in the office, things were different. It felt sinful to lay a hand on his own pet. Forbidden for them to have the comfort they have behind doors. Or at least, they were supposed to be.

A sudden warmth crashed into him upon stepping through his office door.

Gi-hun.

His arms wrapped around In-ho without hesitation, clinging tight, his face pressed against his neck. His whole body was shaking. His fingers dug into In-ho’s back, gripping hard, like he was a lifeline.

 Then In-ho felt it.

 Wetness. Tears, soaking into his collar, against his skin.

 He froze.

 He didn’t know what had happened or what could’ve made Gi-hun this way. He was concerned, yes. But the way Gi-hun was holding onto him with his hands down and empty stirred something deep in his chest. Gi-hun, on his own, embracing him like he was a need. An act purely from his pet, reaching out with only receiving left for him. There was something about it, something he couldn’t quite figure out, but it felt important.

Slowly, he exhaled and lifted his arms to pull Gi-hun in, holding him just as tightly, leaving the unanswered thoughts for another time. 

….

 It was Saturday night, and In-ho and Gi-hun sat on the couch, each lost in their own thing. Despite the space between them, there was no room on their shoulders, Gi-hun's knees were pulled up, resting against his side and leaning towards In-ho brushing lightly.

Gi-hun stared at his phone as he sat on the couch, brows furrowing as he read his bank statement again. “In-ho… I received almost double my salary. Is this a mistake?”

“Oh.” In-ho barely looked up beside him, busy with his laptop. “That’s your allowance as my pet. You’ll get it every time you receive your salary.”

Gi-hun blinked, still staring at the screen. “But… allowance? I’m already freeloading at your place. And it’s the same amount as my salary...wouldn’t that be too much?”

In-ho smiled, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “No… as my pet, you deserve that. You’re not just some rare breed dog for display. You’re more than that.” He tilted his head slightly, watching Gi-hun’s expression shift between confusion and reluctant acceptance. “You’re my pillow, my weighted blanket, my headache pill, my entertainment. Honestly, I feel like I should be paying you even more… The more I get to know you, the more valuable you become.”

In-ho could add the fact that he’d pay escorts and spend almost ten times that for a single night, a casual, boring night. He had needs, physical ones, and with the means, he simply made it a regular part of his life. He didn’t feel bad about it. Honestly, he didn’t even feel satisfaction from it.

There was just a part of him that held a little hope, that maybe, at some point, he’d feel a spark, some kind of pleasure. That maybe he’d find one body that could draw something real from him. But he had been doing it for years, with beautiful women, with fine men, with all kinds of human bodies, trying to find that thrill, and barely feeling a flicker. Nothing. Just empty nights of temporary release and another appointment booked.

Gi-hun, however, was different. With his warmth, his presence, and his ridiculous way of making himself comfortable anywhere, he gave In-ho something none of those meaningless encounters ever had. Comfort. Calm. Peace.

Maybe he should just scrap that old habit entirely and transfer the funds to Gi-hun instead. His pet deserved it. Deserved the world. But he knew Gi-hun would freak out seeing such an amount, and it was frustrating how his pet was an actual human that had a decent sense of morals and logic.

“You deserve so much more from me, Gi-hun,” In-ho murmured, leaning in close, a small smile playing on his lips. He ruffled Gi-hun’s hair fondly. “Just accept it, pay back a little on your loans, and enjoy your pay, okay?”

Gi-hun exhaled, still reluctant but, by now, too used to In-ho’s ways. His presence, his touch, it had a way of pulling the tension out of him, whether he liked it or not. He sighed in defeat, melting into the warmth of In-ho’s hand against his head as he unconsciously leaned more into his fingers.

“We don’t even have a contract or anything about me being your pet…” he mumbled, still watching his phone screen. “This money coming out of nowhere feels…suspicious.” His voice still held concern. “Should we have a contract for this? Me, as your pet?” He finally glanced at In-ho, his eyes soft, wide, questioning, almost like a puppy.

In-ho merely huffed, amused.

“As I said when you unexpectedly landed in my office that one fine day,” he murmured, reaching out to lightly flick Gi-hun’s nose. “I never planned on having a human pet.” His thin lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “I had no expectations… and yet, I’ve gained more from you than I ever thought possible.”

He let the words settle between them before continuing, his voice steady. “I think we’re still figuring things out. We’re still growing together. A paper contract would only put limits on that.” His fingers trailed lazily through Gi-hun’s hair again. “I love the freedom we have now. The surprises. And I feel like… if we keep things as they are, we might find something even more in the future.”

His gaze flickered toward Gi-hun, searching. “Do you disagree?”

Of course, Gi-hun didn’t disagree. He simply pursed his lips in response like always. Whatever In-ho thought was the answer was his too. He had already molded himself to this—to be dependent on In-ho. Submitting to him had only brought good into his life.

“Oh!” Gi-hun suddenly perked up, making In-ho stop and withdraw his hand from Gi-hun’s hair.

“It’s the weekend tomorrow… I’m actually planning to buy some things,” Gi-hun announced excitedly.

In-ho squinted in confusion. “Do you need anything? Are we lacking something here? You could just message me or tell me if we do. I have a personal shopper, so it won’t take any time.”

Gi-hun smiled, a wide, beaming smile. “It’s a gift for my daughter. I don’t know what to send yet, but I want to find something for her with my first pay.”

“Ah…” In-ho said, his response lacking the excitement Gi-hun had. Instead, it bordered on disappointment, or was it jealousy? “Of course.”

Something stirred inside In-ho about this petty matter of gifting. Gi-hun was so happy, and part of it was because of him, he was the reason Gi-hun had reconciled with his daughter, after all. It was a success, just as he had intended. But now, with Gi-hun having his own money and spending it, worse, on a gift for someone else—it felt wrong.

It was something Gi-hun was doing that In-ho wasn’t a part of. Him and Seung Gi-hun. Not him and his pet. A small fraction separates him, and he has no control over it. Or a menial part of his pet’s life that he could trash out if he let his greed slip in.

The thought twisted inside him, something possessive and sick curling in his gut. He wanted to spoil Gi-hun, to drown him in ridiculous amounts of money, but at the same time, he wanted him to never spend a single penny of his own. He wanted Gi-hun rooted to him, dependent on him, his world revolving only around him.

Exactly like a pet to his master.

His.

A sharp pinch pressed against the side of his head, a headache creeping in as his thoughts turned heavier, darker, more consuming. Too much. His fingers twitched like they wanted to snatch something back before it was lost.

“I could come with you and help out,” he said, his voice carefully even, betraying none of the storm raging inside him.

… .

Sunday. 8:05 a.m.

“In ho, don’t move… and don’t smile either!” Gi Hun said frustratedly and flustered, his hands holding In Ho’s face in place.

He had initially been helping to dry and fix In Ho’s hair, combing it, but midway through, he realized that the formal hairstyle was too dazzling and eye-catching. Yes, In Ho looked good, someone who screamed ‘prominent’ and ‘dominant,’ but this wasn’t a normal day at the office. They weren’t going anywhere formal. They were going out of town to roam around for the weekend. Gi-Hun having planned stops for both of them to visit in a not-a-date-at-all weekend.

 Gi Hun began ruffling In Ho’s hair as he stood making bangs for him, while In Ho casually sat on the edge of their bed, his hands on each side of Gi Hun’s waist as the man grew more frustrated and focused on fixing his hair. It was an amusing way for In Ho to start the day, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

 “Having fun with my despair?” Gi Hun said, and In Ho chuckled.

 “What? I’m sitting still,” In Ho defended. “It’s you who wanted this whole disguise. I could always just wear sunglasses like normal, and nobody would notice.”

 Gi Hun had to stop at In Ho’s ridiculous statement.

 “In Ho… it’s not them not noticing you, it’s about you not noticing them noticing you. And sunglasses… that won’t do anything to hide… this,” he exclaimed in frustration, his fingers pointing to In Ho’s cheek.

“This?” In Ho said slowly, teasingly, leaning into it more.

“This… Hwang In Ho’s face,” Gi Hun scoffed.

 “Hwang In Ho’s face like?” In Ho pressed, pushing further.

 “Are you playing a game?” Gi Hun snorted, his hands now hovering just above In Ho’s, their fingers overlaying. “Won’t you stop until I land the exact words you want to hear?”

“I’m just saying, we need to identify this ‘Hwang In Ho’ face you say that gains the attention of the public and that you want to hide. With that, we can figure out what to resolve or fix. What features? Some distinct parts, perhaps, that make people like my pet were drawn to and recognize… ah… it’s Hwang In Ho.” The more In Ho explained, the slower and more suggestive his voice became.

 Gi Hun blushed deeper, trapped in In Ho’s grasp. But it was something he couldn’t hide, nor escape.

“I… I think it’s your jaw. It’s sharp, and it stands out,” Gi Hun stammered, trying to be honest. “Your eyes are narrow but intense when you gaze. You have a well-defined nose too, and your skin is smooth and tan,” he explained simply, shyly, and defeated.

 In Ho smiled back at him, content. He paused a moment, savoring the victory before speaking again. “I think my smooth skin would only be known by someone who has access to it,” he teased, his words playful.

 “That’s not—you know what I mean! ” Gi Hun screamed, his hands on his face, letting out an agonized, embarrassed sound, which made In Ho laugh.

 “Not funny, In Ho!” Gi Hun said, frustrated. “We’re not going to get anywhere if we keep this up.”

 But In Ho saw it as a challenge, maybe even an opportunity.

 He wrapped his arms fully around Gi Hun’s waist and pulled him forward until they collapsed onto the bed together. Before Gi Hun could process what had happened, In Ho swiftly flipped their positions, now kneeling over him with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself. His hands immediately found Gi Hun’s wrists, pinning them above his head as he settled his weight against him. Leaning in, In Ho rested his face against Gi Hun’s neck, his parted lips grazing his skin, making Gi Hun freeze, his breath hitching in anticipation of what In Ho would do next.

“I could live with this,” In Ho whispered against Gi Hun’s neck. “Just you and me, staying in bed for the weekend like this.”

Gi Hun tried to struggle, but with In Ho’s full body pressing down on him, it was impossible to escape. Despite being slightly smaller than Gi Hun, In Ho’s weight was solid, and Gi Hun couldn’t move. His skin was on fire, and his brain was fuzzy.

 “Come on, In Ho, let go. You’re heavy,” Gi Hun finally managed to say.

 “Pet, you smell nice…” In Ho murmured, pressing his nose into Gi Hun’s neck, making him shiver and stiffen.

“I’m using all the same things you use!” Gi Hun stammered. “Shampoo, body soap, cologne… even the fabric conditioner on the clothes is the same. I basically just smell like you!”

 A smirk formed on In Ho’s lips, and Gi Hun could feel it against his skin. “I love that,” In Ho murmured, pausing to look up with a smile. “You smell like me.”

Gi Hun was left dumbfounded, speechless at his words. He was caught between feeling embarrassed, realizing the words were his to begin with, but hearing them from In Ho felt much heavier.

 “In-Ho, there’s not much to do here… we better get moving,” he tried again, now that In Ho had paused teasing him.

 In Ho let go of Gi-Hun’s hands but stayed in the same position, lying on top of him. “I’ve actually been thinking about where my pet’s ticklish spots are for quite some time now. That’s something interesting we could do,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face, clearly teasing.

 “In Ho…” Gi-Hun voiced out with a hint of frustration. “I really want to leave and get a present for my daughter,” he added more calmly, his tone turning into a plea, hoping his master would understand,also, before In-Ho could act on his intrusive thoughts and start working his fingers on him.

In-Ho sighed in disappointment and then rested his face against Gi-Hun’s chest. Gi-Hun let out a relieved breath, feeling like he had won for once. His hands instinctively found their way into In Ho’s hair, fingers threading through it.

 “I actually planned some places I’d like to visit with you today. Nothing grand like your vacations, but… you did mention you’ve never really spent time just hanging out in a nearby area, right? And… I kind of wanted to show you my place too,” Gi-Hun said softly, his voice sincere.

“That sounds like a date. Are you asking me out?” In Ho said, still face down. Gi-Hun was glad In Ho couldn’t see how red his face had turned.

 “No. No. It’s just a normal way to spend our day off… together,” Gi-Hun stammered, starting to panic.

 “Just you and me?” In Ho repeated the question.

 “Yeah. You and me.”

 “Bonding outside?”

 “Yeah. Bonding outside.”

 “Like walking a pet?”

 There was a brief silence before In Ho finally lifted his head, a silly grin on his face, waiting for a response.

 “Yeah?” Gi Hun answered, confused. “I guess we are.”

Chapter Text

 Gi Hun was wearing an oversized blue hoodie, beige cargo pants, white rubber shoes, and a black bucket hat. In Ho, on the other hand, wore a plain white tight shirt, a loose navy cardigan, black fitted trousers, white rubber shoes, glasses, a blue baseball cap, and a black face mask.

 In Ho was somewhat content with what he ended up wearing. He had let Gi Hun dress him out of amusement after Gi Hun expressed his fear of In Ho being seen in public without bodyguards and just with a suspicious man. Gi Hun, with his weightless body, overthought the situation, imagining worst-case scenarios like kidnapping, being swarmed by people, or attracting attention from the media, and him being helpless. It was definitely an overactive imagination, but it was cute and touching.

 However, when Gi Hun started going overboard with the outfit, layering multiple colors and designs into one ensemble, it stopped being as fun. Gi Hun insisted that more colors and a style completely different from In Ho’s usual look would be the best disguise. He had a point, but In Ho wasn’t about to step outside looking like a disaster. In the end, they settled on a safer choice and added a face mask for extra assurance.

 Nestled between towering buildings, a narrow alley opens up to a hidden market where the city’s heartbeat slows down. The stalls are crowded together, each with colorful signs advertising everything from fresh produce to handmade goods. The air is filled with a mix of sounds: vendors shouting out deals, customers haggling over prices, and the occasional clink of metal from street food carts.

 The narrow pathways are lined with worn but vibrant storefronts. People walk quickly, busy with their own shopping and tasks. Aside from the locals, low-income workers from the surrounding tall buildings are here to take a break. Strays—cats and dogs—wander through the crowd, darting between legs and searching for food. The market is alive with its unique, clashing elements, all happening at once, yet somehow harmonious, peaceful despite the noise.

 Like wildflowers, grass, trees, and animals in a forest—uncontrolled, yet forming an ecosystem. A home for someone, like his lost puppy.

 In Ho walks beside Gi Hun, looking around as if seeing the place for the first time. He was aware of such a place’s existence, but being in the middle of it was a different experience. It felt like a different world. Every sight, sound, smell, and even the touch of concrete ground was new to him. This was a place he’d never find himself in on his own time. The closest he’d come would probably be scouting land for a new project, but other than that, never. It made him realize he had been living in his comfort zones, but they were so vast that he never considered stepping outside them.

He was strict about his schedule, and that included places where his presence was required—office, event halls, boardrooms, media stations, partner and investor meetings, hotels, and home. Even his so-called "grand vacations" were calculated ventures, just insights again meant to maintain his work-centric lifestyle. Hyun Ju was right. He had never glimpsed life outside the office. Ironically, this very wide world he owned is suffocating him.

 But his pet had led him outside today for a walk.

 In Ho glanced at Gi Hun, who happened to look back at him and give him a sweet smile. Their shoulders brushed as they continued walking toward an even tighter, more crowded area.

 “First time here?” Gi Hun asked.

 In Ho looked around, Gi Hun following his gaze. “Yes. This is the first time,” he said. “I hope you won’t get me lost, because I’m doubting if this place is still on the maps. My life safety is now in your hands, Seung Gi Hun.” He smirked behind the mask.

 “Please don’t scare me like that,” Gi Hun genuinely say worried. “Anyway, we’re close to our destination.” He jumped with excitement and placed his arms on In Ho’s back, fingers pressing into his shoulder as Gi Hun pushed him forward, almost skipping happily as they moved ahead.

 In Ho was then seated in a small diner that looked like a renovated house, with its second floor still serving as a home. The inside was a little dark, so they settled outside on small plastic chairs. He was left alone as Gi Hun went to attend to the order and pick it up once ready. Fortunately, they arrived a little late for the breakfast rush, which ran from 5 to 7 a.m., and earlier for the lunch rush, which typically runs from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. There was just one table occupied, a mother and son busy with their own meal.

 In Ho removed his face mask. He briefly wondered if it would be better to sit inside, considering Gi Hun’s fear for him and the crowds, but he found the ambiance and fresh air outside far more appealing. If this was his pet’s world—filled with people like him, like the ones he had seen outside, too busy and occupied with their own lives—they might not even recognize his face. They may know his name if it’s mentioned but that is something resolvable. He leaned back in his seat, relaxing as he took in the little details around him.

 It didn’t take long for Gi Hun to return with a tray of food and bottled water. He placed the food on the table and sat across from In Ho. At the center of the tray, a steaming bowl of galbitang juk sat, creamy and rich. Strips of tender beef were laid on top, sprinkled with green onions and black pepper, with a raw egg yolk in the middle, waiting to be stirred in. Beside it, a smaller bowl held extra broth with short ribs, the meat falling off the bone. The broth was deep and fragrant, infused with garlic, ginger, and ginseng.

 "This is my comfort food here. It's not that pricey and fills me up well. I usually just order the beef rib porridge alone, not with the meat and all, since I can't afford it. But I promised myself I'd come back when I have the money and order the whole set," Gi Hun explained, his voice tinged with excitement, but there was a hint of nostalgia in his tone as he began breaking the egg on top. "I'm not sure if your palate will find it good enough..." He chuckled softly, trying to divert attention from his sentimental words, but a subtle unease crossed his face as he wondered if this food, and maybe even the whole setup he had planned, was far from In Ho’s preferences.

"It’s good," In Ho replied, already swallowing his first spoonful. His eyes narrowed slightly in concentration as he savored the flavor, clearly aware of the quality. "The broth is really rich, and it’s probably taken quite some time to prepare." He took another spoonful, and Gi Hun watched the way the spoon touched In Ho's lips—thin, slightly moist—and then saw the slow, deliberate swallow, the motion of In Ho’s Adam's apple bobbing in his neck. Gi Hun’s gaze lingered for a second longer than intended, his fingers nervously fiddling with his water bottle.

 "This is warm and soothing. Tastes like home-cooked food. Something I haven’t had in a long time," In Ho added. He took another bite, eyes briefly closing as if savoring a memory.

 Gi Hun quickly looked away, flustered, his hand trembling slightly as he tried to open his water bottle, though his fingers fumbled with the cap. He took a deep breath, drinking quickly to calm his nerves, but the discomfort lingered in his throat.

"You okay?" In Ho asked, his voice soft as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching Gi Hun’s face for any sign of distress.

 "Hmm, yeah... just something irritated my throat," Gi Hun replied, keeping his gaze on the bowl, his cheeks flushed from the unexpected tightness in his chest. He quickly began stirring the porridge.

In-ho sighed in relief, but his eyes never left Gi-hun. He noticed the slight, unusual stiffness in his posture, the way his fingers gripped the spoon a little too tightly. Watching him with quiet concern, he observed every small detail. Only when Gi-hun began eating a little too fast, nearly halving the porridge in his bowl, did In-ho finally return to his own meal, reassured that he had settled down..

They sat there, facing each other, quietly finishing their late breakfast. In-ho’s eyes and attention were fixed on his pet, observing every small movement, every reaction, the way he ate so swiftly. Meanwhile, Gi-hun refocused his attention on his food, letting go of the earlier turmoil and simply savoring the warmth of a memorable and delicious meal. The clink of spoon against bowl along with few passerby and vehicles was the only sound between them.

"I'm happy I get to taste this with you," In Ho said, his voice a little softer now, almost finishing his bowl, just a few spoonfuls away from clearing it. "It kind of makes me excited for my pet's other plans."

 Gi-hun almost choked from the statement. "It’s nothing extraordinary, really... I hope you won’t set your expectations too high," Gi Hun said, his voice quieter than before, a nervous edge creeping in as he looked up at In Ho, his eyes flickering away just as quickly. "But I at least hope you can have a little fun like I do," he added, his words trailing off, a slight uncertainty lingering.

 "In—"

 "Young-il. Call me Young-il instead of In Ho for now. Just to be safe," In Ho interrupted gently, his gaze sharp but calm.

 "Ah... alright. Young-il, then." Gi Hun leaned a little closer, as if to make the whisper more private, "Where did that name come from?"

 In Ho let out a soft laugh, though there was something more personal in the sound this time, as if it were a secret shared between them. "It’s one of my aliases. Oh, Young-il," he explained casually, but his eyes held a flicker of something unspoken.

 Gi Hun paused, his gaze lingering on In Ho, his lips parting as though he might ask something more, but he simply nodded slowly. "It suits you, Young-il," he said, his smile a little warmer, a little softer now. "It sounds warm and friendlier."

In-ho raised an eyebrow at him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing playfully. "And my real name doesn’t?" he asked, his tone serious and monotone. As he spoke, he grabbed a napkin and gently patted his lips clean.

 Gi Hun’s heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He stammered, his face flushing even more. "No, that’s not what I mean... In H—Young-il... I’m just saying the name sounds good. I love In Ho too..." His voice trailed off into a quiet whisper, almost lost in the hum of the street around them.

 In Ho’s fingers rested lightly on his lips for a moment, a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. He leaned back slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement, his gaze lingering on Gi Hun. The space between them felt thicker now, charged with something unspoken.

 "Care to rephrase before I hold that against you?" In Ho said, his voice low but teasing.

 Gi Hun’s face went pale as the realization hit him, and he froze, eyes wide with panic. "No. No. No. No. No. I meant your name! Not... like that!" he stammered, his hands clutching the water bottle in an attempt to ground himself.

 In Ho laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, echoing through the quiet of the diner. He stood up, cleaning up the remnants of their meal, his movements fluid, unaffected. He fixed his plastic chair back into place, still smiling, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes now.

 "Let’s go," he said simply, the amusement still evident in his tone.

The back of Gi-hun’s ear was red as they continued walking. In-ho bit his lower lip in amusement, walking just a little slower than Gi-hun’s already sluggish, sulking pace. His pet had been staring at the ground, stubbornly denying In-ho’s existence for a while now. Maybe he had teased him a little too much. But he couldn’t help it when such words slipped so casually from his pet’s mouth—it was hilarious. He knew what Gi-hun meant, yet he still chose to make a fuss over a silly mistake.

At this pace, it would take forever to get anything done. His pet’s mood was also down—an awfully cute tantrum, but still down. And as someone who could acknowledge his own fault, it was up to him to fix this little tour disaster.

"Gi-hun… stop sulking," In-ho said, hands on his back as he leaned in slightly to catch his pet’s gaze. But Gi-hun turned his face away, and In-ho could only catch a glimpse of his puffed cheeks of displeasure.

"Aww… come on, pet…" In-ho coaxed with a pleading look. "You owe me a pet walk. Where does my pet want to go?" Still no answer. He then gently bumped Gi-hun’s shoulder, making the thinner man stumble slightly and finally pause, acknowledging his boss’s need for attention.

“In—Young-il, I never thought you’d be such a menace out here.” Gi-hun pouted, annoyed, still refusing to look at In-ho. “You’ve been teasing me non-stop since morning, and you’re still at it even now… You know I get flustered easily, and I’m weak against your words… I just—just want my mind clear so I can focus.” He crossed his arms, frustration evident in his voice, but there was sincerity in his plea, hoping In-ho would understand.

In-ho didn’t respond immediately. With only his eyes visible, Gi-hun could tell his words were being processed—carefully thought out, picked apart in that calculating way of his. The silence stretched a little too long, just enough to become unsettling. Gi-hun shifted under the weight of In-ho’s unwavering gaze, feeling as if he were being studied rather than listened to.

“I have a lot to say about that, but… if I let my mouth run free, our argument will drag on and ruin our—well, your day. So, I’ll keep it simple,” In-ho finally said, his voice calm, almost amused. “First, I apologize if my teasing got out of hand. Second, it’s partly your fault for being cute—and even acting cute. Third, because of that very fact, my urges are completely out of control. And fourth, I’ll restrain myself in public, but I’m holding you—the main reason for all this—accountable.”

The last part of In-ho’s statement blurred the line between a tease and a threat, making Gi-hun swallow nervously.

“Every word you’ve made me swallow. You’ll hear them at the proper time and place.” In-Ho added and now it was a full-blown threat.

“You’re making it sound like a big deal. I was just telling you to stop teasing me here…” Gi-hun mumbled, feeling as if all his frustration had somehow turned back on him—like it was his fault now.

In-ho smirked, and even behind the mask, Gi-hun could sense it. “Exactly. Let’s leave it until we’re behind closed doors.”

The weight in In-ho’s words lingered, and Gi-hun suddenly had a bad feeling—like this had completely backfired on him. He stood there, confused and feeling left out after the weird turn of events, while In-ho had already started walking a few steps ahead.

Gi-hun shook his head. In-ho stood waiting, smiling with his eyes glinting. He had already shifted his emotions, now free of that malicious tease. It was pure—back to his usual, casually alluring smile. And it was kind of scary for Gi-hun to see how easily In-ho masked and moved on from his emotions. Or maybe he was just overthinking it again.

Both men stood at the counter to buy some tokens. In-ho watched as his tall pet leaned forward to the small opening in the glass, talking to the cashier. His face was beautiful—like a child brimming with happiness. There was almost a pink flush on his cheeks every time he smiled. His eyes would close completely, forming soft lines at the corners, and his mouth would lift, rounding his cheeks—bright and full of warmth.

How could he possibly stay calm? How could he retain control? Gi-hun’s presence—his mere existence like this—was already overwhelming him. To hold back his tongue, not just from teasing but from the thoughts of Gi-hun that were piling up, already filtered and barely suppressed, was becoming nearly impossible. And now that Gi-hun was demanding he hold back his remarks, In-ho honestly didn’t know how he could manage. But he would, of course. But then again, how long could this growing feeling inside him be contained before it exploded, wrecking him and spilling everything at once? The thought is frightening even for In-ho himself.

He diverts his attention, and his gaze flickered to the cashier, and for a brief moment, he felt a silent resentment toward her for smiling and taking up his pet’s precious time.

The woman didn’t quite understand what was happening, but her guts screamed at her and quickly handed over the tokens, too nervous to let her fingers linger outside the glass counter for even a second longer—almost as if she feared something bad might happen.

The arcade was dimly lit, the glow from different game screens flickering in colorful bursts. Electronic bleeps, shooting effects, and the occasional jingles from nearby machines filled the space. In the distance, a group of kids was loudly arguing over a racing game, their laughter and shouting adding to the chaotic yet oddly comforting atmosphere.

“You’re gonna tease me about this, aren’t you?” Gi-hun muttered, turning to his companion, who had remained silent since they stepped into the arcade.

In-ho pursed his lips slightly, trying to suppress a grin. “I mean…” He glanced around, taking in the surroundings before sighing as if to hold himself back. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in a place like this. Maybe… thirty—no, forty years ago.” He hummed, shaking his head. “So, this is… interesting.” His voice was neutral, but Gi-hun could sense the fake smile behind his mask—the same one he used when talking to clients.

Gi-hun scratched the back of his neck, a little irritated and saddened. “I know you’re faking that smile, Young-il…” he said, slightly dejected. “Just say what you really think. I don’t want to force you into things like this if you’re just holding back your words.” His voice softened as he glanced away, shyly adding, “Just lighten your teasing, if you really have to do it.”

In-ho chuckled softly, bringing the back of his hand to his masked mouth out of habit. “Oh, pet…” he said tenderly. “Fear not. No matter where you take me, it’ll never be boring if you’re with me.” His voice was sincere. Slowly, he pulled his mask down, revealing the smile Gi-hun had grown familiar with—the genuine one, the sweet one. The one that made him feel special, like it was only for him.

“This place is just…” In-ho squinted slightly, as if carefully choosing his words, though the teasing smirk at the corner of his lips betrayed him. “As I remember, this kind of place used to be a popular dating spot for teenagers back then… And, well, you did say this is not.”

Gi-hun froze, his mouth slightly open, struggling to form words.

“You did tell me to be honest,” In-ho continued, his voice a mix of playful teasing and concern. He took a small step closer, almost looming over Gi-hun. “Oh, you poor thing…”

“This isn’t a date,” Gi-hun muttered, flustered, his eyes darting around in a panic as he clutched the hem of his hoodie, looking down. His ears were even red. “I mean… I don’t even know what a real date is supposed to be.” He scoffed, shaking his head, his panic subsiding a little, and his words tumbling out more honestly than he intended. “Didn’t exactly do it right the first time, did I? Ended up divorced.”

In-ho hummed quietly but didn’t interrupt.

Gi-hun exhaled sharply, a short huff through his nose, as if swallowing the sudden bitter taste of his past. But somehow, it wasn’t as heavy as he expected.

“But if I ever planned one…” Gi-hun let out a small, hopeful yet self-deprecating laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d make it really special. So I don’t get divorced a second time.” He exhaled, almost in a joking tone. “I’ll make sure my date stays with me… not just for the date.” He chuckled softly, his voice trailing off. “Not that I really know how to do that.” His confidence wavered, like a tide pulling back, or maybe he was just laughing his way out of the moment—out of whatever this was.

“You’re making me jealous of someone who doesn’t even exist. Please, spare me that,” In-ho said, frowning slightly. And yet, beneath the teasing remark, something else lingered. On the surface, the misunderstanding between them seemed clear—easily brushed off as banter. Gi-hun, taking the words as a mere compliment, his ears burning as flustered amusement flickered across his face. But for In-ho, not a single word had been a joke.

In-ho sighed, regaining his composure. “Well, since we’re here, might as well do me the honor of taking me to your favorites?”

That made Gi-hun smile.

Gi-hun led In-ho to a claw machine filled with colorful spheres, each one containing a mystery prize. He slid in a coin and started playing.

“I have to explain why I brought you here,” Gi-hun said, moving the joystick, eyes locked on one of the orbs. “And what makes this place special to me.” His voice slowed as he concentrated. His first attempt failed, but he didn’t seem discouraged. He simply inserted another coin, adjusting his aim.

This time, the claw grasped the orb smoothly, carrying it to the prize slot. A huge grin spread across Gi-hun’s face as he bent down to retrieve it, proudly holding it up for In-ho to see.

“I’m good at this. Look! Just two tries!” he beamed.

In-ho chuckled, reaching out to pat his head. “You are,” he murmured, his touch gentle as Gi-hun unconsciously leaned into it—just like they used to. But after a few lingering seconds, In-ho pulled his hand back, suddenly aware of their surroundings.

“What’s your prize, then? And what’s with the colors?” In-ho asked, peering through the glass.

“The prizes are numbered—we have to bring this to the counter to claim it. The colors tell you how rare the prize is. Green is the most common, blue is mid-tier, and that red one?” Gi-hun gestured to a lone red orb near the center. “That’s the jackpot. Almost impossible to get.”

“You really know your stuff, huh?” In-ho mused, resting his fingers on his chin as he studied Gi-hun.

“Well… I, uh… I did say I was a gambling addict before.” Gi-hun’s voice softened, a bit more vulnerable now. “That was one of my biggest issues. Got me buried in debt.” He sighed, pausing as if recalling something unpleasant. “Even after losing everything, the addiction didn’t just go away. That’s when I started coming here.” He let out a quiet laugh. “Does that make sense?”

In-ho didn’t respond immediately, but he didn’t mock him or look at him with pity either. He just listened, giving Gi-hun his full attention. That alone made Gi-hun feel relieved enough to continue.

“This place got less popular when the big malls started opening up. Not many people come here anymore. So even if some kids look at me weird for being an old guy playing arcade games, it’s nothing compared to the people outside—the ones I was hiding from.” He sighed again. “I got good at these games, and somehow, winning little prizes helped me cope. It gave me something, even if it was small. Sometimes I’d exchange them for money, sometimes for food. It’s pathetic, but this place became my hideout.” He hesitated. “And you… you helped me get out of that debt. I just… wanted to share this with you.”

He kept his head down, but his eyes slowly lifted to In-ho, searching for a reaction. He wasn’t trying to ruin the mood, but something about being with In-ho made him want to lay everything bare—his flaws, his past, all of it.

“Forget I said all that. Sorry for the drama.” He said lightening the mood.

In-ho leaned back against the claw machine, his eyes drifting over the prizes like he was sizing them up. Then, with a smirk, he said, “How about I win that red one for you? Something to remember today by.”

Gi-hun blinked.

“Come on,” In-ho grinned. “Teach me.”

And so, they started aiming for the red ball, which was underneath the others. In-ho just dumped the claw where it was, making the other balls scatter and drawing out the red one. It took them multiple tries just to get it out, and when it was finally within reach, In-ho let Gi-hun continue the game. But somehow, the red ball was slick and different from the others. They were down to their last three tokens, and despite the wasted time and frustration, it was fun and challenging. They weren’t going to stop until they had that red ball.

Gi-hun inserted the second-to-last token, his fingers trembling from getting tired of holding the handle. That’s when In-ho placed his hand over his, helping him control the grip. And then, it finally went down.

They both looked at each other in shock, almost in disbelief, pausing as they both took a moment to process. Then Gi-hun grabbed the orb from the opening, and it was really there now, in his palms—the first prize, something he’d never won before.

In-ho was momentarily stunned as well, but seeing Gi-hun hold the prize, he couldn’t help but smile at the silly trophy they’d worked so hard for. Without a second thought, Gi-hun threw himself at In-ho, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders. He began jumping, still clinging to him. In-ho stood there, speechless, taking in the whole scene. When Gi-hun finally let go, his emotions still running high, his hands rested on In-ho’s shoulders as he kept jumping, his joy uncontainable. In-ho couldn’t help but chuckle, savoring the small victory that brought such pure, glorious happiness to his pet.

Now standing at the corner of the arcade, far from the others, they sat in the unoccupied seats for the video games as Gi-hun laid out the prizes from their claw machine game. Aside from the main prize, they got one mid-tier prize and three smaller ones.

The two larger prizes were wrapped like gifts, while the others were common, unpacked, and given as-is. The first was a card. Gi-hun read it, and it turned out to be a ticket for free carton milk for two.

They exchanged a glance, both signaling that they didn’t drink milk.

The second prize was a pack of honeycomb candies. Gi-hun opened one and chuckled at the sight of what he drew: an umbrella. He turned it toward In-ho, who also chuckled.

"An umbrella, really? You’d probably be dust by now if this were a life-or-death game. Who could win with this?" In-ho said, more as a statement. But Gi-hun took it as a challenge.

He gently held the thin candy with both hands and started licking its back. "I could win this," he said, motivated as he continued. He was so immersed in the action, adjusting the candy in the light to get a better view before licking it again.

In-ho, the sole audience, felt urges that he might do something really bad if anyone disturbed this moment or if another living being dared lay eyes on his pet right now.

He continued to watch intently and silently, probably engraving the view, the sound, and the feeling it gave him as his pet, ridiculously, ate a dalgona.

It was when the candy crumbled in his pet's mouth that In-ho snapped back to his senses. He found himself with both hands on his knees, fingers clenched on his pants, his body leaning slightly toward his pet. It was then that he breathed in, realizing he had forgotten to do so for the entire time.

In-ho blinked, refocusing as he grounded himself back to reality. Regaining his usual composure, he leaned in closer, reaching out to gently wipe away the remnants of broken candy and the stray trail of saliva at the corner of his pet’s lips.

“See? You’d be dead by now if this were a real death game,” In-ho teased, his fingers lingering just a little too long.

Gi-hun sat frozen, stiff and straight under his touch. “I really think I could win this game… it’s just that…”

“Just that?” In-ho prompted, finally lowering his hand.

“You’re watching,” Gi-hun admitted softly, embarrassed. The words jolted something in In-ho’s chest, as if he’d been caught red-handed. He held his tongue, waiting for Gi-hun to finish.

“I think if no one was watching… I could do it better,” Gi-hun added, making In-ho sigh inwardly, feeling an odd sense of relief.

“Well, you really were quite a sight doing it,” In-ho declared without a second thought, the words slipping from him unnoticed. “I agree—no one else should see it.”

Gi-hun's breath hitched, his fingers curling slightly against his lap as a sudden warmth crept up his neck. He felt a secondhand embarrassment for himself as he sank into the realization of the show he had put on—how it might have seemed like more than just him profusely licking the candy. But In-ho's declaration was purely factual and unbothered. Hopefully, it was just him overthinking, and maybe—just maybe—In-ho’s words were truly nothing more than genuine concern.

“What’s the keychain? May I?” In-ho asked, his palms open, waiting for Gi-hun to hand over the last common price.

Gi-hun scrambling placed it in his hands, and In-ho examined it with a confused expression.

“It’s just numbers, right? Four, five, and seven?” Gi-hun clarified. “But what does 457 even mean?” he questioned now his breathing normal.

“I honestly have no idea. It doesn’t ring a bell,” In-ho admitted. “Maybe it’s something new, some kind of code the younger ones use. Let’s look it up later.”

They both nodded in agreement before moving on to the next prize.

This one felt soft. Gi-hun picked it up, running his hands over the package. Judging by the way it was folded, it was definitely clothing. He tore the paper wrapping and pulled out a bright pink jacket.

They exchanged silent looks of understanding. Neither of them would wear it, nor would it fit either of them.

Finally, they reached the grand prize. Gi-hun excitedly held it, feeling the texture, pressing it, trying to guess what it was. It was much bigger and softer than the jacket—yet firmer, maybe a bag or a plushie? But its shape was square.

Tearing the packaging, he found out he was right. It was indeed a plushie. A pink one, with a goofy, cute face. It was packed tightly in plastic, so they borrowed scissors to free it. The moment it was unwrapped, the plushie stretched and expanded longer and longer.

A body pillow. Four feet tall. Light pink, adorable, and ridiculously long—shaped like a squid with a little pointed head and small tentacles at the bottom.

Both of them sat in silence, looking up at the plushie as Gi-hun held it sitting it on his lap. A moment of curiosity. A moment of appreciation.

Then, without hesitation, Gi-hun hugged it tightly, pressing his entire face into it, nuzzling against the soft material.

In-ho did not like that.

“So soft…” Gi-hun murmured into the plushie. “So cute too…” He continued rubbing his face against it. “Can’t wait to sleep with this tonight.”

That was the final straw for In-ho.

“No!” he suddenly exclaimed, making Gi-hun look up.

In-ho took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself.

“Why don’t we trade this for money or food? Like old times?” he suggested, his tone unnervingly even.

Gi-hun, sensing something, pulled the plushie closer, half of it now hidden behind him protectively.

“You said you won it for me. That means it’s mine,” he stated firmly. “And no amount of money or food could replace this, Young-il. Just what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I…” In-ho started, eyes flickering to the plushie, half of it peeking from behind Gi-hun’s back, its oversized animated eyes staring right at him—mocking him.

He narrowed his gaze, irritation creeping in.

“I hate its face. Squids don’t look like that.” He stated it as a fact, his tone laced with distaste.

“I’ll buy you a bigger one,” he added, leaning in slightly, as if negotiating. “A bear. Double the size of a human. We’ll put it in the corner of our bedroom as a cute display.”

“What? No!!” Gi-hun shouted before jumping to his feet and running away, the plushie clutched tightly in his arms.

Tsk." In-ho muttered under his breath. Now, he stood, facing Gi-hun with clear irritation—almost hatred—directed at the squid. The way Gi-hun’s fingers pressed into its soft body made In-ho’s lips twitch in disapproval.

"Gi-hun, give me that." In-ho's eyes burned with restrained fury as he took a slow step forward. But despite the intensity in his gaze, Gi-hun showed no sign of fear or retreat. Instead, he bolted to the opposite side of the arcade, weaving between rows of video game machines, his wide eyes locked onto In-ho’s every movement. He circled around, forcing In-ho to take the longer route if he wanted to catch him.

In-ho exhaled sharply, nearly scoffing at the absurdity of the situation. His pet—his pet—was running from him, making him chase like some lowly fool. Gi-hun bit back a mischievous grin, but even his attempt to contain it felt mocking to In-ho. The Hwang In-ho.

"You better know your place, pet." In-ho's voice was calm, but dangerous. "You think this little arcade is enough to escape me? Have you forgotten who I am?"

Gi-hun finally let go of his grin, bursting into soft giggles. "You can try catching me, but you're forgetting something—you're Oh Young-il. You have no minions here."

In-ho let out a dry chuckle of disbelief. His pet was talking back. Howling at him over some ridiculous toy. This was absurd. His patience snapped, and instead of lunging forward, he reached behind himself. His sharp gaze never left Gi-hun as he pulled out his wallet and, with a smirk, yanked out a thick bundle of cash.

Gi-hun’s laughter died.

In-ho smirked wider, raising the money high in the air before calling out loud and clear, "Kids! Corner this man here!"

A group of middle schoolers, previously absorbed in their games, turned their heads at once. The sight of crisp bills spoke louder than anything, and without hesitation, they rushed toward Gi-hun, grabbing onto his arms, legs, and waist in an effort to pin him down.

Gi-hun wasn’t panicked—just stunned. Out of all the things he could’ve expected, In-ho bribing children was nowhere on the list. And with that much cash? Unbelievable. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to fight back too hard, afraid of hurting the kids clinging onto him.

Then, suddenly, much larger hands wrapped firmly around his waist and pulled. His body collided into In-ho’s chest.

"Okay, kids. Let go of him. This man is mine."

Like magic, the little hands released him one by one, completely obedient.

Without loosening his grip on his captive pet, In-ho handed the bundle of cash to the tallest boy in the group. "Divide that equally, okay?"

The kids gasped, eyes wide with amazement. A few even muttered, "Yes, sir!" in awe before clumping together, whispering excitedly as they clutched their newfound fortune.

"Now scram. Go back to your games—away from here."

And just like that, the kids ran off, arms linked, chattering with joy as the tallest one started counting the money.

Meanwhile, Gi-hun remained firmly locked in In-ho’s grasp, unable to believe what had just happened.

“The hell…” Gi-hun muttered. “You bribed kids for petty things like this?” He said, holding out his squid plushie.

“Nope. It’s for this.” In-ho said as he pressed his fingers further into Gi-hun’s waist and turned him, fully cornering him at the edge of one of the video game tables. Gi-hun’s body almost leaned against the game, while In-ho leaned in closer. “Pretty small amount to get this,” he added, making Gi-hun retreat his gaze, weakened by In-ho’s proximity.

“In-ho… I mean, Young Il…” Gi-hun whispered, shaking slightly. “Don’t you find this thing cute? Don’t you have any sympathy?” He pushed the plushie between them, his chin resting on the squid’s pointed head, eyes wide and sad. “It’s your gift. Why can’t I have it?” he asked softly, a big frown on his face.

It was cute. His pet was cute. Not the squid, if In-ho were to ask. And that wide-eyed gaze—such a bargain—that it annoyed him to even think about retracting his words just for his pet’s toy.

He breathed out in defeat and slumped his head onto Gi-hun’s neck. Gi-hun’s chest jolted from the sudden touch. It felt strange. He should be used to In-ho’s touch by now, but he wasn’t. It must’ve been their day together, away from constant contact. The last time was when they were in bed, teasing and cuddling. Had it really been that long for his body to be this sensitive?

“Get rid of this,” In-ho muttered, still sinking into Gi-hun’s neck as he pulled the plushie out from between them. Before Gi-hun could react, In-ho continued, “If you let that thing come between us at night, I’ll grill it.”

Gi-hun only nodded. For now, the plushie was safe from In-ho. Gripping his pillow tightly, he also hoped it would help him hold onto his sanity, especially with the overwhelming thoughts of the same man threatening the innocent squid.

Chapter Text

Fingers brushed as their steps slowed. The world outside faded into nothing more than background noise, as their presence together, the space they shared,.was the only thing that felt real in that moment.

It was strange, this kind of sudden silence. Not heavy, not something to fill, just there, like an unspoken agreement. A moment stretched between them, settling like a quiet pause, grounding them in the aftermath of emotions that still lingered, fluttering in the stillness after they have left the arcade.

Their shoulders brushed.

Gihun noticed, his gaze trailing down without thinking. Their hands moved close, barely any space between them. Inho’s fingers, shorter than his, but broader, veined, with a sculpted elegance, shifted naturally with the rhythm of his stride. Then, Gihun let his own fingers graze over them again, this time on purpose. Just slightly, just enough to see what would happen.

He lingered longer. Stayed there. Acted like nothing.

Seconds passed, stretched, warped into something uncountable. He fought the urge to move, to react. And then, carefully, he glanced at Inho.

Nothing.

Inho was still looking straight ahead, lost in thought, his expression unreadable. Somewhere else, somewhere distant. Focused on something deeper, something Gihun wasn’t sure he could reach.

A small breath left his lips.

Maybe next time. He’d have another chance next time. For now, Inho being this unguarded, so lost in thought… Gihun might just have to indulge himself and settle for something else.

His eyes flicked over his own creation, the outfit he had thrown together for Inho this morning. The blue cap was a good choice, considering the endless walking they had to do under the sun. Not just for shade, but to keep those sharp eyes hidden from prying stares. At most angles, they wouldn’t even be able to see him directly. The downside? It completely ruined all the effort he put into Inho’s hair. He had made it fluffy, his bangs all messy and casual, and… cute.

Gihun huffed, sulked. They had priorities—he knew that. Still, it was really disappointing.

Then there were his eyes. He wore sleek, silver-framed angular glasses, their transition lenses shifting darker under the sunlight. Gihun had pushed for sunglasses, but Inho had refused, arguing that, with a cap, sunglasses, and a mask, he’d look even more like someone trying to hide. They compromised

Lastly, the black mask-the key piece of Inho’s disguise. Nothing special, just a simple, functional cover. Yet even that couldn’t fully hide the shape of his face, the sharp cut of his chin, or the subtle definition of his jaw.

Overall, it worked. A disguise good enough that most people wouldn’t look twice. Maybe a few would glance twice, trying to decipher the face beneath the mask. Someone nosy. Someone curious. Someone like him.

But, of course, not him.

Because he already knew. He already knew exactly what was behind it, already knew the face, the weight behind those expressions, the sharp lines and softened glances. No mask could hide that from him. No way he wouldn’t be drawn to it.

Ugh.

Gihun stole another glance at Inho, checking if any of his actions, or thoughts,.had somehow slipped through. But Inho remained lost in whatever was on his mind, silent and unmoving. That, at least, was a relief.

He finally withdrew his gaze, exhaling quietly as he faced forward. He smoothed out his expression, easing the tension in his brows, settling into something calmer. His steps remained steady, but his mind drifted, slipping into his own thoughts.

 Gihun had plans. Aside from the general plan of touring Inho around and finding a gift for Gayeong, there was something else.

He wanted to test the water. He wanted to take a step forward. And maybe, it was to make a choice of his own.

He breathed out.

It was silly how much of a big deal he was making out of this. Because really, all he wanted,.his only intention, was to take his chance. To initiate something first.

To hug Inho.

On his own. Without orders. Without Inho doing it first. Without Inho’s subtle gazes drawing him in.

He was a pet. He knew that.

There was no official contract, no set of guidelines, but their relationship still followed that structure—master and pet. Inho had always been a physical person with him. From the very beginning, their connection had been built on warmth, on touch, on a comfort that had long since become second nature. But it was always Inho who initiated it. Always Inho who reached out first.

Whether it was in their bed, with Inho hugging him from behind, spooning him, whether it was on the couch, calling him over just to pet his hair, whether they were lounging near the pool or tangled up during movie nights, it was always Inho. Never him.

The rare occasions he had reached out on his own… He could count them.

Mostly just small things. Helping dry his hair. Fixing his tie. Adjusting his collar. Some small pats. Things that weren’t really initiated by him,.just him mirroring Inho’s actions, a silent way of saying thanks.

Then that time he had hugged In-ho after his daughter had called.

It had been different. He knew it had been Inho’s doing. He had been overwhelmed, emotional, and all he had wanted in that moment was to thank him. To break apart in this man’s arms and cry his heart out.

And he had.

It was a memory that left him feeling a little ashamed acting purely on emotion, swept up in his own needs, disregarding his usual restraint. It flustered him. It felt special. And when he thought about that difference, when he became conscious of it, he realized—

It had always been about receiving. Always about being pulled in. Always In-ho reading him, sometimes even better than he could read himself. Before he could ask, before he even knew he wanted or needed it, it was already given. And he was already melting at his touch.

But the idea of having the choice to give, to reach out on his own—

To hug In-ho of his own accord.

It might be nice.

Lunch was satisfying, the meal warm and filling, leaving them both in lighter spirits. Inho looked pleased, and that alone was enough to make Gihun feel accomplished. As they ate, Gihun had explained his plan, gesturing toward the building just across the street—their next stop, a small jewelry store where he hoped to find a gift for Gayeong. Inho listened, then simply smiled and nodded in quiet agreement as he sipped on a chilled omija tea, the perfect relief from the heat.

Inside the store, Gi-hun held a red box containing a gold necklace with a delicate heart pendant, his fingers brushing lightly over the intricate design. In his other hand, a silver ring with a floral engraving. His smile was wide, eyes glinting with excitement as he checked each sample the attendant provided, lifting and turning them. He spoke happily, completely absorbed, while Inho stood just behind him, occasionally glancing at the accessories but mostly watching the way the rare jewel shimmered—standing there, occupied.

Gihun lifted a silver ring with a star pendant, turning slightly. “In-ho, look. What do you think?”

Ah… That shine in his eyes again. If only it was for him. If only it was his alone.

Inho took the box from him, tilting it slightly as he assessed it. “It’s nice and simple. She’d like this. But she’s busy with school, right? A junior? Rings and bracelets might get in the way if she’s always working on paperwork.”

Gi-hun nodded in agreement, already considering. “Ah, you’re right. Then...necklace?” He placed the one in Inho’s hand back onto the glass.

Inho stepped beside him, scanning the options left. “A necklace or earrings would work.” His fingers brushed over a pair of delicate earrings. “She was born in June, right? That’s pearl. How about pearl earrings?”

The attendant immediately picked up on his words, clearing away the previous selections and bringing out new pearl options for both necklaces and earrings. Inho picked up a simple pair, his expression satisfied as he turned them over between his fingers, finding exactly what he had in mind. But when he glanced up, Gi-hun was watching him with an unreadable look.

“How’d you know her birth month?”

Inho was taken aback for a moment. There was nothing accusatory in Gi-hun’s tone, just a straightforward question, yet he couldn’t help the flicker of tension that passed through him. Because, honestly, he knew far more about Gihun’s family than even Gi-hun himself. It wasn’t just his daughter—there was also his ex-wife, a full background check detailing their lives, their current status, their place. Even her new relationship had been reviewed, an entire folder’s worth of information neatly compiled and read.

They were inevitably tied to Gi-hun—his pet, and he knew he had overstepped. Used too much of his power, pried too deep into something far too personal. But it was Gi-hun. He had to know. He had to understand every little detail about them. To ensure his ex-wife was stable, that she had moved on with a reliable partner who could provide and wouldn’t look back. To confirm that his daughter was being raised well, emotionally mature enough not to demand the full presence of a father who could no longer be there.

He needed that assurance, had to have it, before he made the decision to bring them back into Gihun’s life. For his sake. And for his own clarity. Goodness came second only.

But he didn’t let any of that show. Instead, he leaned an elbow against the glass display, easy and smooth. “I have my ways,” he said, giving Gihun a small, playful wink. “Had to ask, of course. Need to score some approval points with the people that matters to my precious pet.”

Gihun blinked, taken aback by the sentiment, a faint flush creeping up his ears.

Inho only smiled. “I’ve got a lot of people to gift, so I don’t handle it personally. My shopper keeps a list and prepares things a year in advance.”

“Ah…” Gihun nodded slowly. “So, you already have something for Gayeong?”

A quiet chuckle. “Probably. Just the basics, she’s a student, so something useful. Probably a laptop or something.”

“That’s… really nice of you, Inho.” Gihun hesitated, then said it outright. “And kind of too generous. You’re extending the help to my kid. Thanks.”

Inho only smiled and got away with it.

But Gihun squinted, studying him. “Wait. Aren’t you outgifting me?” he muttered.

That earned a small laugh. “Not at all. A father’s gift will always be special.” Then, with a smirk, “Besides, I need all the points I can get. Gotta make sure your kid knows her papa is safe, well taken care of, and loved by his boss.”

Gihun had no response to that, only huffed softly as he turned to retreat back to the attendant, now carefully wrapping the pearl earrings he had chosen. Inho, meanwhile, remained where he was, watching quietly.

As they wandered, Gihun eagerly shared tidbits only a local would know,.a quiet street once used for a movie, an old bakery famous for its yakgwa, where they luckily snagged the last batch to share. He pointed out past part-time jobs, a repair shop, a warehouse, a store, then stopped to introduce In-ho to a scruffy orange cat he often visited.

Time slipped away in their detours until the sky deepened into warm golds. Gihun slowed, eyes narrowing at the horizon, thinking it was just about time for their last stop. Then he and Inho quickened their pace toward it.

....

It was a sea of people, waves continuously rolling in.

In-ho barely needed to move, struggling against the current was futile. The world kept flowing, never stopping, moving on its own time, carrying him along. Whether it was leading him somewhere or leaving him lost in the vastness, he let it on.

The warmth of the day lingered, but within him, something quieter settled, a contrast to the crowd’s restless movement.

This was the last stop of their tour for the day-an observation tower to watch the sunset. Despite the tide of people washing over him, pressing against him, a certain loneliness welled up inside. It wasn’t just the physical distance to a certain someone that made him feel far away, but also the passage of time, thinning and fading like a haze.

He was smiling. He was laughing. He was having fun. He was frustrated. He was jealous. He was acting dumb, not caring about the world for once. He was filled with so many unwarranted emotions, and in the end, it all led to just one thing—he was happy.

He was happy.

He never knew happiness could feel so odd. That warmth could start from within and slowly spill outward, overflowing, tingling, making him feel so alive. And yet, just acknowledging this beautiful thing made it sorrowful at this very moment.

This slow walk with the crowd felt like a procession, a quiet farewell to the version of himself he had let slip away for the day. A mourning—as he let the world carry him, bidding goodbye to the one-day flame that had burned inside him. A memory so warm, it felt like embedding itself into his soul.

As he tried to resurface from the abyss of his thoughts, reality of the crowd blurred, twisting into visual distortion. The faces, the paces, they all melded together. It felt like drowning, yet he was so accustomed to this turmoil that he remained calm from the outside, keeping himself afloat on the inside. Panic, fear—any emotion, in any form, would only cloud his ability to survive.

He just needed to endure a little more. Suffer a little more.Until he got used to it. Until it became a normalcy, he could breathe in.

The fleeting feelings of loneliness and hopelessness twisting and morphing into small stones sinking and hiding in a cold, dead ocean, until all that remained was himself and the emptiness.

This was his life. He never expected someone to find him, the least even a freely willing hand to reach for him. He’s just lost, barely staying afloat in this sea of his and that just it.

For a long time, he had settled for that.

But now, a single touch was shattering everything.

Breaking him apart in a way that was beautiful, overwhelmingly, devastatingly so. A sting from within had begun to bleed out.

Ah.

Gi-hun was holding his hand.

And In-ho, who had always been the one to grasp, now found himself merely clinging, completely overtaken.

Warmth foreign to his life, yet… something buried in his body remembered. A distant memory stirred.

Little fingers wiggled, barely out of control, reaching, grasping. The moment he was born, before sight could see, before ears could hear, before understanding, his tiny hands instinctively reached out, exploring life through touch.

A young man, blessed to be born into a life of luxury and privilege. His mouth never needed to move, everything was given before he could even ask. His eyes never had to wander, everything he could ever want was within reach, perfectly set before him. His feet had never strayed far, nor had they felt strain, for his home held everything he needed. His ears knew only silence, for nothing beyond his world was worth hearing.

Everything was given. Everything was controlled. And in return, he was expected to be perfect.

In-ho, like his father, like every man in his lineage, was molded from a young age to become the front man of their legacy. Not just an heir to wealth, but the figurehead of an empire built long before his time. A role that bore a crown, heavy with the cost of a lifetime.

This path was set for him long before he could grasp its weight. He adapted, endured,.traded away something vital, something never given the chance to exist. And how could he grieve a loss he was never allowed to know?

In the end, it was still a benefit. Ignorance could be bliss.  But for him, ignorance was the price of achievement. And bliss—bliss was never a part of a front man’s life.

He lived as a shadow of his father, molded to his satisfaction, shaped by his standards. His life was calculated to the very minute, from strict schedules down to the smallest flicker of emotion allowed on his face. He handled it as expected, and life became easier when he accepted his fate—the person he needed to become.

It was almost like being someone else watching himself from the outside, a stranger. A figure barely human. Like an in-game character, existing only for control and manipulation, driven by a single goal. And maybe… a part of him desperately wanted to win. To win, so he could finally be himself. To win, so he could finally have a life of his own. It was the only thing pushing him forward. And forward was the only path he had, despite the irony of losing himself in the hope that he’d win in the end.

But even then, he kept going, bound to the murky path that had already been set for him.

If he was a shadow of his father, and his father an endless darkness like the night, then his mother was the stars.

She was beautiful, a light shining from afar in this dark life he had been living. She was distant, yet her warmth could still be felt just by looking at her. And she remained in this night, a small hope for the shadow to look up to, even if it barely had the chance to reach her. For he was a shadow cast in the night, trapped in his place.

And despite everything, In-ho knew, he loved her. His star.  It was the one clarity in his life that could never change. But like stars that looked so small from where he stood, her light began to fade. Flickering, growing weaker, until it was barely there.

At eight years old, In-ho watched his family break apart. His mother, the woman he had only observed from a distance, now had a different look in her eyes. Pain, yes. But also, something new. Hope. A look he had never seen before. It was when she gazed at his newborn brother, Jun-ho.

Her face was wet with tears, her lips trembled, but her eyes held a quiet determination. Yet in comparison, when she looked at him it’s different.

Jun-ho… he was something else. Something better. And his mother—his beautiful, radiant mother, was glowing again. She was filled with the warmth he had once known, but now, it was only for his brother.

As he remained just a pain

And that alone made him stop looking at her directly. Instead, he watched from afar. He didn’t want to see her in pain. He didn’t want to face that he was the reason for it. But it was clear for young In-Ho. He was.

He never stepped into the fights of the adults. He didn’t have the power to change anything in the end. He simply waited for the storm to pass. And when it finally did. He made his choice. He chose to stay with his father.

He belonged to the dark. He was only a burden to his mother.

At least by staying behind, he could believe, hope that she and Jun-ho would have a better life in the light. As for him, he would continue on the path set for him, never straying, just breathing, just surviving, ensuring the night remained distant from the warmth and new life he had let go.

Inho continued living as he was expected to. His father’s presence was reduced to once or twice a week, brief dinner meetings for a roundup of his schedule and updates. His mother and brother, whom he had once personally checked on to ensure they were living comfortably and safely, were now completely left behind. And to him, the rest of the world existed only in the form of orders -- given and received.

He was at the top of the food chain, well aware of his status and the responsibility clinging to his title. Sometimes, he felt suffocated, like a rope tightening around his neck as his father forced him into a position, he wasn’t yet ready for. Nonetheless, he endured it, knowing that in time, he would grow strong enough to hold the rope himself, to pull forward on his own.

And he did. When he finally reached that aim, after years dedicated entirely to the life he was meant for, there was nothing left to chase.

His father died. He arranged a simple funeral, one that fit him. And, funny enough, neither the visitors nor the way they spoke felt any different from an ordinary office meeting. A few acknowledged his legacy, some muttered words of sympathy, while others spoke of Inho taking over, nothing unexpected.

He had already been handling everything for years by then, watching as his father’s body withered away. He even thought it was amusing, that the man had managed to last 30 years after their mother left, running and killing his self purely on duty. Ever since then, he had become a ghost of himself, devoting everything to the empire. But Inho, at least, could appreciate one thing, his father never tried to undo the divorce, never forced her back into their lives. That was the only thing he was grateful for.

Among these people, only three mattered, the only ones he invited. Yet only two arrived.

There was Jun-ho, now a policeman, whom he would meet for the first time. And Hyunju, the child of one of his maids, the only person he could ever call a friend.

His mother had died two decades earlier. It was only that day at his father's funeral that In-ho found out. And as much as he wanted to grieve, to feel something upon hearing those words, there was nothing. He only gave a small nod, acknowledging the news, and took a moment of silence out of respect. That was all he could offer.

As for Jun-ho, he would be receiving an inheritance, but he had already refused for his share and insist for a foundation to rather have it. He wanted nothing from their father, not even a cent. There was no personal hatred, nor had their mother ever spoken ill of him. But still, Junho refused to take anything.

People started leaving one by one.

Hyunju was the only one who checked on Inho’s state and didn’t give one shit about the dead old man laid in the center. Like always.  Like always, she was the only one who felt like a real human to Inho.

After all, they have great roots as kids, bonded through trauma like normal 19-year-old and 8-year-old.

That first encounter comes back to him, vivid and strange.

Just them, in silence, both standing, staring, dead-eyed and empty. It felt like a reflection. It’s easy to know one when you’re one.  And they just knew—instantly. The depth in that few gazes. The brokenness. The things they hide and cope with.

There weren’t many words after, just quiet company. Maybe a small way of comfort for the two who could barely manage themselves.

But that didn’t last either.

A few months in, and Hyunju was gone, leaving In-ho back in his empty home. Alone.

They met again 20 years later. Hyunju, now undergoing her transition, had left her job as a staff sergeant in the military.

She was still going through a lot. Different, this time.  But she seemed more herself. Freer. Real living. No more hiding. No more of that plain, sad 8-year-old mopping the floor in silence.

She was beautiful.

She hadn’t just transitioned physically, her whole life had. Unlike Inho. All he could say was that he survived. Worse, he got worse. But again, nothing was worded upfront. They just shared simple company whenever they met.

And then, when Inho was left alone again that night in the funeral—completely alone, Hyunju’s words echoed in the empty dark.

"You're free now. Now what?"

He sat there, frozen. Contemplating.

Was he never free?

He knew his father had a firm grasp on him when he was young, but that grip had loosened over time, weakened. Eventually, he had overpowered him in nearly every way. He had his own will. His own choices. For a long time now. And yet, was he not free? What even was freedom to him? What was he lacking? Would abandoning everything he built, crushing it all, change anything? Did his father’s presence even matter to this so-called freedom, or was it his own doing all along?

"Now what?"

He didn’t know. What happens now? Aside from moving forward, continuing. What is he even doing?

What is he?

Who is he? 

His chest tightened. His mouth opened, jaw trembling. His vision blurred, the room spinning. Standing only made it worse. His knees buckled, feet barely feeling the ground beneath him. He stumbled. Fell. Then crawled. Anywhere. Just move. Just keep going. He can’t be here. Not in this dark.

Help.

A word that never existed in his vocabulary screamed inside his head. But his lips stayed shut. He kept moving, but it was worthless. Hopeless. His senses started shutting down. Except for touch. That remained. Felt electrifying, grounding every inch of his skin. Every nerve felt exposed. Raw. The cold empty space around him stretched endless. A void swallowing him whole. Alone.

Yeah.

He was alone, indeed.

Oh, fun.

A choked gasp escaped his lips as he felt his mouth curl into mockery. He had made himself this way. The grandeur. The stature. The image he had built, sustained, and maintained.  And now? Now that his real self was surfacing. There was nothing. Nothing but an empty, scared, lost soul. And no one would stay. No one would pull him out.

Not his father.

Not his mother.

Not Jun-ho.

Not even Hyunju.

No one.

No one would willingly reach out. No one would see him at his worst and stay.

He gasped for air, but it was never enough. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear. His vision blurred. His body begged for shutdown. All he had to do was wait. Just wait. Suffer. Endure. Like always. God. Feel it. Feel weakness creeping through every inch of his body. Let it drown him.End him.

Cold.

Empty.

Nothing.

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Everything.

Everything he had unknowingly longed for, every buried, unspoken need, was suddenly shaped into something real. Something he could hold. Something that could be his.

A warmth pressed against him, slowly pulling him back.

Seung Gi-hun.

Inho gasped sharply, as if only now did reality return to his grasp. Gi-hun held him tightly, pressing closer—never questioning, only offering what comfort he could.

Tears streamed down—warm, wet, freely flowing, unstoppable against his skin, soaking into the face mask he wore. His own broken sobs and choked voice became clear to him, raw and unrestrained.

It felt like a part of him,.long lost, buried beneath years of silence, had finally been found. And now, the sea of emotions he had drowned in for so long was untapped, freed, raging.

For once, he knew what it was to be seen. To be held.

Even in the midst of his messed-up state, he could do nothing but surrender, letting his body succumb to the core of his feelings, overflowing, raging, untamed. Every fragment of emotion ignited within him, drowning him in its intensity, suffocating yet both painful and blissful.

He’ll let the time, the warmth pressed on him, and the soul of being that caused all of this carry him, as he claimed every second of suffering and fear, fully consumed him, until the calm and the pleasure of its existence were all that remained.

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Oh God,

Would it be a sin to claim this pet of his for himself forever?

Chapter Text

Their hands were intertwined, Gihun’s thumb gently rubbing over Inho’s as they made their way home. Inho had calmed down, but Gihun was still shaken from everything that had happened. They decided to call Inho’s driver, ending the day before exhaustion fully set in.

Gihun held onto him, worried, protective. He let go of any doubts about whether this was appropriate, even his own fear of his position and outsiders' opinions. Confusion lingered, but one thing was clear: Inho’s comfort was what mattered most.

As they settled into the car, Gihun reached for Inho’s mask and slowly pulled it off. Dampness clung to its edges. The moment it was gone, his palms returned to Inho’s cheeks, warmth meeting warmth. Inho closed his eyes at the touch. Gihun traced the remnants of tears down his face, wiping them away with slow, deliberate strokes. Inho melted into his hands.

“Why?” Gihun asked, almost in a whisper.

Inho glanced up at him, pausing for a moment before offering a small, reassuring smile. He shook his head.

Gihun’s chest ached at the silent refusal. He gave a quiet, understanding nod. Maybe it was too much to say aloud. Maybe it was something beyond him as a pet to know. The sting of knowing he couldn’t share Inho’s pain sat heavy in his throat.

Then, Inho shifted closer, his head tilting toward Gihun, their hands still clasped. His fingers squeezed gently.

“I’m really fine,” he murmured. “It’s just been a while since I cried. My eyes were overdue for a cleanse, anyway.” This time, his smile was genuine.

“But… I hope you’ll still offer your shoulder when I need it. Tears or not.”

Gihun exhaled, lost in his words. He squeezed Inho’s hand in return. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough, more than words of affirmation, he could probably answer in ways they were both most familiar with.

A heavy urge to pull Inho into an embrace lingered. His fingers shifted, pressing down on their intertwined hands. Gihun remained still, his gaze intense, every inch of him steeped in yearning as his body and mind wavered on whether to give in.

Inho let out a breathy chuckle, tilting his face up to meet Gihun’s gaze. “I did say we should wait until we’re behind closed doors… Didn’t think you’d count the car doors, pet.”

A flicker of warmth crept up Gihun’s face for being easily caught in his intent.

Inho snorted. “It’s alright.” He said softly, rubbing his thumb over Gihun’s knuckles. “I felt the same,” he added, almost a declaration, whispered only for them in the backseat to hear. “But… home’s not that far now. Let’s just wait.”

He withdrew, settling back into his seat, his half-lidded eyes unfocused on the road ahead. He softly sighed, then closed his eyes, letting his head rest against Gihun’s shoulder.

Gihun nodded shakily, the warmth of embarrassment from before shifting into something else.

Their hands remained clasped as they stepped out of the car and made their way up to the penthouse. A part of Gi-hun was anxious about how openly they were holding hands, their physicality blunt and unhidden. With In-ho’s mask off, everyone they passed bowed and acknowledged his presence. Then again, this was a safe place. In-ho owned this building, everything of it. No one would dare say anything about this little display of handholding, right?

And it wasn’t like Gi-hun was being forced into it. His fingers were just as firm around In-ho’s as In-ho’s were around his. He had reached out first, after all. Touching had always been natural between them, impulsive, emotional, comfort, but this felt different. With their fingers linking like vines, every fingertip pressing in perfect angle, with equal assertion, it felt more deliberate. A choice.

As they reached the top floor, Gi-hun debated loosening his grip, finding some excuse to let go. But In-ho’s steady hold made it harder. He knew he should, but his fingers refused to move.

It was a really silly argument inside his head, one so foreign to him that dwelling on it would only stir up more intrusive thoughts, tangling his feelings further. Maybe the best way to deal with it was to withdraw before he got too consumed.

His eyes landed on the pool garden outside, its lights off. That was a reason, right?

“I’ll go ligh—” Gi-hun started, slipping his hand free, only for In-ho to catch it again.

“No. Let it. I prefer the darkness,” In-ho said, stepping toward the pool. Gi-hun no option but followed.

The night stretched above them, stars faintly glowing, reflected in the still water. City lights shimmered afar, and the distant murmur of traffic hummed below. In-ho inhaled deeply.

“Let’s appreciate this last moment before the day ends.” He spoke.

Gi-hun watched, captivated, as the dim light traced the angles of his face, spreading over his tanned skin like something sacred. His hair, which he had fixed that morning, was now messy, scattered across his forehead by the wind. Nonetheless, In Ho was beautiful.

“I never really appreciated a view like this until you sat by the window that first night,” In-ho murmured, eyes still fixed on the horizon.

Gi-hun flushed but stayed silent.

“I actually appreciate a lot of things more since then. The night. My rest. My bed.”

In-ho finally turned to him, his voice quiet. “It all feels more like home with you beside me.” His fingers tightened around Gi-hun’s.

Gi-hun swallowed. He didn’t know how to respond—or if there even was a right response to something like that. The words just settled into him, warm and heavy, and his chest ached with something unspoken. He wanted to say something, but his lips only parted uselessly. Instead, he squeezed In-ho’s hand back, his fingers trembling, hoping it said enough.

Then—

“Achoo!”

Their hands finally separated as Gi-hun bent forward, sneezing hard. He straightened immediately, looking at In-ho in alarm.

In-ho blinked, then let out a soft chuckle. That chuckle turned into full laughter, rich and warm, carried away by the wind.

Before Gi-hun could react, In-ho grabbed his arm and take a step closer and also pulled him close again. Their eyes met, lingering. Maybe In-ho was checking to see if he’d sneeze again, or maybe they were just… lost in each other.

“All these layers, and you’re still cold?” In-ho muttered in amusement, fingers idly tugging at the drawstrings of Gi-hun’s hoodie.

“In-ho, I didn’t mean to—” Gi-hun started, but a fingertip to his nose cut him off.

“It’s fine.” In-ho smirked. “Still pretty.”

Gi-hun stiffened, heat rising to his ears. That was his own words on the first night before. He looked away, embarrassed.

“Come here.” In-ho’s arms opened in invitation.

Gi-hun knew exactly what he wanted. But it didn’t make it any easier.

Hugging had always been... impulsive for them. A reaction to an outburst, an emotional overflow. But this wasn’t. This was deliberate, a slow, silent invitation. A decision on his part.

“You owe me a hug,” In-ho said softly. “One you planned to offer in the car?"

In-ho didn’t pout like he did, his subtlety was different when it came to asking. It was in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, in the faint, different softness of his voice. In the way his gaze drew something out of him, until resistance felt useless.

So, he did.

Reluctant and disoriented, he stepped in, arms slipping beneath In-ho’s, hands pressing against his back. His face angled instinctively, his lips brushed just above In-ho’s ear, grazing his hair, while his chin rested against the edge of his cheek. The scent of him filled every breath, and the soft strands of his hair gently suffocated him in a way both intoxicating and irresistible.

He relaxed. The warmth of In-ho’s body seeped into him, steady and grounding.

Then, he wanted more.

His arms tightened—one hand traveling firmly up In-ho’s back, the other pulling him by the waist. He exhaled into him, a quiet gasp escaping as he pressed closer, savoring every second of the embrace—

"Did I win you over that squid tonight, or do I still have to fight it to win you?"

The words snapped Gi-hun out of his trance. He blinked, loosening his grip slightly.

In-ho laughed. Whether it was at his own joke or at Gi-hun’s flustered reaction, Gi-hun couldn’t tell. His face burned either way.

Then In-ho hugged him back, solid and warm. His lips settled against Gi-hun’s neck.

“I still stand by grilling it if it crosses the line,” In-ho whispered.

Gi-hun chuckled, his chest vibrating against In-ho’s. In response, In-ho only held him tighter. Slowly, their stance shifted into an easy sway, their bodies moving in sync, unconsciously at first, then deliberately.

The world around them faded. The city, the night, the past—it all blurred, leaving only their slowly-burning bodies and the quiet rhythm of their steps

 “Hmm…hmmm…hmmmmm…” [ Fly... Me to... The moon....]

Gi-hun perked up as In-ho started humming against his neck. He didn’t pull away, just listened as the vibrations rumbled against his skin.

“Hmm…hmm…hmmm…mmm” [Let me... play... among the... stars] In-ho kept going, subtly guiding their movements to the quiet and slowed tune.

Gi-hun finally giggled, his breath warm against In-ho’s ear.

“What?” In-ho grinned. “I’m no Sinatra, but my voice is decent.”

It was Fly Me to the Moon—a song that had stuck with In-ho at the observatory tower, and now he was passing it on to his dance partner.

Gi-hun laughed again, shaking his head. “No complaints. It’s just... it suits you.”

“Oh?”

“You know—the kind of man who listens to classics, wine in hand, in a dimly lit room, sitting alone on a couch, watching the world burn.” He laughed. “Like a typical, cliché villain.”

In-ho sighed, feigning disappointment. “Hmm. And here I thought you’d say I was romantic. But instead, I’m just some kind of nightmare my pet is fantasizing about. Kind of disappointing.” He muttered the last part, clearly disheartened.

“I am not—” Gi-hun started, voice hitting a pitch higher than intended. He quickly evened it out. “Not saying you aren’t… romantic.” His words softened, trailing off shyly.

In-ho stepped back slightly, eyes glinting. “Then let me show you.” He lifted his hand—an open invitation. “How about a dance?”

In-ho’s left hand hovered in silent invitation while Gi-hun stood frozen, stunned by the moment. But before he could utter a word, before he could even exhale, before his mind could settle on a decision—he found his hand already resting in In-ho’s, his body instinctively moving for him, just as it always had.

Their joined hands lifted, In-ho’s grip firm and in control, while Gi-hun’s hold was more uncertain—his weight unconsciously leaning into his partner. Then, in one fluid motion, In-ho’s other hand slipped onto Gi-hun’s lower back, fingertips spreading possessively, pressing just enough to anchor him before pulling him in.

Gi-hun gasped.

They were back in each other’s space again, but this was different from their earlier embrace. Before, their chests had been flush together, their heads nestled close, warmth melting between them. Now, the tension had shifted lower. Their hips aligned, pressing into each other, while their chests barely brushed, just enough to tease, yet not enough to satisfy.

Gi-hun exhaled—slow at first, then unsteady, breaking into a soft, gradual release. His breath felt shallow, the heat of the moment clouding his thoughts. In-ho caught it, felt it. His gaze dipped downward, lips curving slightly, entertained by the lingering warmth charged in the space between them. And then, slowly, deliberately, he inhaled. Not just air, but the very breath Gi-hun had released, as if stealing whatever he could from it, drinking it in, savoring it.

When In-ho lifted his gaze, drunk on the moment as their eyes met again, he lingered there for a second longer, then exhaled. And this time, Gi-hun caught it,.felt it.

A beat passed. Then another.

Neither moved. Neither spoke.

Then, In-ho smirked.

"Now, where were we?" His voice was low, edged with amusement, like he was making an effort to pull himself back into the moment. His hand on Gi-hun’s lower back slid higher, just near his shoulder, the shift creating a more appropriate distance between them.

"What a turn-off I must've been," In-ho chuckled, his tone playful, eyes wavering. "Mixing up an embrace with dancing like that. How silly of me. I apologize." He softly explained, while Gi-hun watched the words on his lips.

The apology ended with In-ho sucking slightly on his lower lip, wet. Gi-hun, drawn in, recognized the trigger and quickly averted his gaze, now caught by In-ho. His mouth parted, and now, he needed to say something to play along.

"I would've never guessed it anyway," Gi-hun said, his voice soft, honest. "You could've played me for a fool, and I’d still move, acted that part, still feel like it was right." He said, a little too raw and more than he should have.

In-ho paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he absorbed Gi-hun’s words. His playful smirk faltered, fading into silence as he processed them. A part of him wanted to dwell on it,.wanted to piece together the meaning, the devotion, the deeper implications. He felt the pull to drown in the uncertain possibility of it. But he knew he’d lose his cool if he did. One more slip, and he might completely lose control. With this newfound acknowledgment of his pet’s value, it was terrifying to consider what he was capable of wanting, doing, and claiming.

In-ho’s fingers closed around Gi-hun’s hand, pulling him into his space. Without hesitation, In-ho stepped forward with his left foot, guiding the rhythm of the dance. Their movements began to sync, each step aligning naturally.

"This is basic close waltz sidestep," In-ho explained, glancing at Gi-hun with a smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. Gi-hun looked down at their feet for a moment, then back up at In-ho, nodding—still focused, still unsure, but confirming the simplicity of the movement.

Hesitant at first, Gi-hun followed In-ho’s lead, moving his right foot to the side, instinctively stepping with him. The rhythm of the waltz slowly settled between them, their movements gliding side by side. In-ho’s hand on Gi-hun’s back applied a gentle, guiding pressure, subtly urging him as they shifted direction.

Now more at ease, Gi-hun, feeling comfortable enough to let go of the footwork, met In-ho’s gaze again. Their bodies were in sync, moving fluidly as they continued, locked in rhythm.

"You’re doing great," In-ho said casually, with an approving undertone. "I must be a good teacher," he added, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Before Gi-hun could respond, In-ho’s grip on him tightened slightly. His voice was smooth as he spoke, "And this is the turn." With a gentle guide, he led Gi-hun into a spin.

Gi-hun, still holding on to In-ho, felt the subtle pressure of his touch as he spun. The shift in rhythm pulled his focus briefly, but they quickly returned to their steady side steps. In-ho’s hand remained firmly on Gi-hun’s back, guiding him through the movements with ease. Gi-hun, now speechless, was caught in the moment—his earlier annoyance lost in the dance.

In-ho, sensing Gi-hun’s confused irritation, diverted his attention. “Now that we’ve cleared the rhythm and basics, let’s move on to the box step.”

They moved side to side, forward and back, shaping the area they were stepping into a box. In-ho then made the steps, counting aloud. "1. 2. 3. 1. 2. 3."

Gi-hun followed the movements, matching In-ho’s steps with growing ease. He smiled, the rhythm settling between them. The more they danced, the more natural it became. Gi-hun couldn’t help but smile approvingly as they continued, his feet and body getting the hang of it.

As the box step evolved, they transitioned into a traveling box, the movements flowing seamlessly. Then came the turning box, and In-ho's guidance became almost instinctual. The more Gi-hun learned, the less In-ho needed to explain. Their bodies moved as one, the rhythm guiding them effortlessly through each step.

Gi-hun, now fully in sync with In-ho, smiled proudly, the compliments fueling his confidence. With each step, he felt more at ease in In-ho’s hands, the connection between them deepening as they moved in perfect harmony. The dance became a conversation of its own, one that needed no words.

Finally, In-ho paused, his grip tightening slightly as he guided Gi-hun into a deep dip. Gi-hun’s body arched back, perfectly balanced in In-ho’s steady hold.

The moment hung in the air between them, the intensity of their connection palpable.

But then, Gi-hun’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes fluttering briefly before his smile slowly grew wider.

As In-ho pulled him back up, his hand now free from Gi-hun’s back, leaving only their intertwined hands still holding. Gi-hun couldn’t hold it anymore, he burst into laughter, leaning into In-ho as he continued giggling against his shoulder. In-ho, caught off guard, was left confused by the unexpected reaction.

“Hey, it’s rude to laugh at your partner,” In-ho said, his tone disapproving as his free hand snaked back to Gi-hun’s waist.

“What’s so funny, mind telling me? Your teacher here is doing his best, and you’re all laughing at my effort,” he said, his thumbs gently rubbing Gi-hun’s waist instinctively, then letting them fully circle on his back.

Gi-hun felt the touch and instinctively pulled back just enough to create some space before it was too late, but still enough that In-ho’s grip remained steady, not loosening. He took a deep breath before speaking.

“I can’t really do any of this in real life, In-ho.”

In-ho smirked. “Why not?”

“Because you only taught me the ladies’ part,” Gi-hun accused, his smile still trying to hold back his giggles.

“I was proud of myself for a second, thinking I did a good job, maybe even show off my new skill in the future…” Gi-hun continued, his laughter slipping out in short bursts.

“I’ve never danced so smoothly like this before,” he added, smiling wider. “I always thought I was a lefty meant just for wild freestyle…”

His voice trailed off for a moment, the realization settling in. “This… this is kind of funny,” he finished, a small chuckle escaping him.

“I’ve never danced like this with anyone,” Gi-hun said, his smile wide as he shifted his gaze to In-ho. "Got me hoping a little..."

Gi-hun’s laughter gradually subsided, his smile lingering as his expression softened. The playful teasing in the air seemed to settle, leaving a warmth in his body. He looked at In-ho, meeting his gaze with a mix of light-heartedness and something else, something ready to spark.

In-ho’s smile remained, his grip tightening just a little, sensing that Gi-hun was done with his moment. He then leaned in slightly. "I have an easy fix for that,” he said with a teasing grin.

Gi-hun felt a flutter in his chest at the implication, but before he could fully process it, In-ho continued, his voice steady and confident.

“You’ll just have to settle with me as your permanent partner.”

Gi-hun could barely react, his breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a quiet shudder as In-ho’s grip remained firm after the declaration, unrelenting while he was still in the process of deciding whether to laugh and take it as a joke, or take it seriously—but at what context? 

His body was then moving, but it wasn’t his own doing. He was being led, effortlessly maneuvered as In-ho’s hands guided him into an intimate slow dance with no gap between them. One hand was firmly placed at Gi-hun’s lower back, holding him close, preventing any chance of escape, while the other rested at his side, as his hands roamed and passed through his hoodie, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his undershirt.

Gi-hun, on the other hand, found himself speechlessly gripping In-ho with a desperation he couldn’t understand. His hands were clutching at In-ho’s shoulder, fingers digging in slightly as though grounding himself to the man who, with each subtle shift of his body, was driving him to the brink of insanity.

“Not like anyone else could hold you like this,” In-ho murmured, his voice lower now, dangerously smooth. He leaned in, lips brushing just beside Gi-hun’s ear. “Or would I allow anyone.”

In-ho completely took over their movements and position, and Gi-hun was left out of it, giving in.

“I’ve known every inch of you.” A slow step, and Gi-hun felt his stomach twist, his heartbeat loud in his ears.

“…And so do you,” In-ho continued.

The heat from In-ho’s body pressed against his, leaving him breathless, while his mind raced, trying to hold onto his sanity. With every sway, every moment of closeness, Gi-hun felt himself faltering, caught in the tension that hummed between them—needing to stay, wanting to push away, yet unable to do either.

“Aren’t we a perfect match?”

Gi-hun swallowed. His entire face was burning, and yet he couldn’t speak—couldn’t even look up. His body was betraying him, his legs barely holding up under the heat consuming him.

“A teacher…”

Another turn, another press, digging, scoping. In-ho’s body impossibly close, beyond physical, sinking inside him.

“And his favorite pet.”

Gi-hun let out a breathy sound—a gasp. He hated that his body was responding so naturally, so instinctively.

“You’re so gorgeous…”

Gi-hun’s mind was barely functioning; it was all clouded, suffocated, and filled with his body’s sensations, along with In-ho’s words stirring inside him, igniting a play of flames with him.

“How come I’ve only met you now?”

In-ho pressed his palm further against his back inside his hoodie but not beyond the shirt, fingers pressed, digging, and middle finger teasingly, slowly nudging his spine upward, pulling him in just slightly, enough to make Gi-hun gasp, almost whimpering at the contact and cold air as his hoodie was lightly lifted.

Gi-hun was sure his knees were going to buckle.

“You make me feel things,” In-ho’s lips ghosted against his temple now, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“Different.” A brush against his cheek.

“New.” His jaw.

“Unknown.”

He arched almost like a jolt, but In-ho held him fully, making sure that not a single twitch would go unnoticed and would be savored. Gi-hun could only clench tightly and press his head to In-ho’s neck to support himself standing.

Another pause.

Another break, spared out of pity by the man keeping him from falling.

“…So oddly—euphoric.”

Gi-hun didn’t even register when they stopped moving. His head was light, thoughts tangled, breath uneven.

And then—warmth.

Not just warmth—he was sinking, falling, melting into something soft. He barely realized they were no longer standing, his body now resting against the mattress, the heat of In-ho still above him.

Breath coming out in uneven, shallow gasps. Above him, In-ho was close, too close, hands braced on each side of his shoulders, gaze unreadable.

Their breaths, their movements, completely in sync.

Neither of them spoke. Waiting for a snap or a stop.

In-ho sank, lowering slowly, reaching as Gi-hun breathed in anticipation. His hands clenched the sheets beneath him.

Then a kiss on the forehead.

He then collapsed beside Gi-hun, whispering, mumbling thanks for the day. Before knocking out to sleep, leaving someone alone and in a desperate situation of something troublesome between his legs growing.

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ARTICLE HEADLINE: KOREAN MULTI-BILLIONAIRE OF HWANG CORPORATION, CEO HWANG IN-HO, FOUND ON SECRET PUBLIC DATE WITH A MYSTERY MAN. HAS ONE OF THE MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELORS FINALLY FOUND LOVE?

POSTING...

Chapter Text

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Anon: [sent attachment.]

The attachment contains article and photos of In-ho and Gi-hun at the observatory tower.

The first photo is a wide shot of them amidst a crowd. Gi-hun is holding In-ho’s hand, leading him forward, while also clutching his squid plushie. The plushie’s back faces the camera, its head partially obscuring Gi-hun’s face.

The second photo is a closer, half-body shot. They stand at the edge of the deck, surrounded by people, though the camera blurs the background to keep the focus on them. They are locked in an embrace, with In-ho resting his head against the mystery man’s shoulder, his face hidden against him.

Anon: Guys you seeing this or I’m high or what?
Anon: That’s bullshit. Defo fake images
Anon: That’s AI!!!!
Anon: Nah. It’s real. I heard from my friend under security dept its real.
Anon: HOLY-
Anon: The demon is gay. LOL
Anon: Nah. Hes bi. He has fiancée before right?
Anon: FAKE one.
Anon: EX.
Anon: Obviously Pure business
Anon: Pretty tho.
Anon: Who? Our boss?
Anon: The fiancée obv
Anon: Boss is fine too
Anon: Yeah she’s hot.
Anon: No wonder he’s bi
Anon: He’d get both
Anon: GUYS!!!!
Anon: He identifies as demon. Bi won’t cut
Anon: What?
Anon: what?
Anon: WUT
Anon: GUYS!!!????
Anon: YEAH? JUST TYPE IT OUT DOOFUS. Everyone is anonymous here.
Anon: Wasn’t the other guy, his attendant? The new guy who’s just barely a month working here?
Anon: His face is covered. Not sure
Anon: Covered by a Dick PLUSHIE LOL
Anon: pink c*ck
Anon: That’s Not a d*ck
Anon: imagine that big..hehe
Anon: LMAO
Anon: That’s a squid body pillow your pervs!!
Anon: Boss gave that to his date as remembrance lol. D*ck plushie
Anon: I have one look!!! [insert photo]
Anon: aww cute. Lowkey want one
Anon: send link. Send link
Anon: no. don’t send links.
Anon: SEND ME!
Anon: NO. Don’t let that squid multiply.
Anon: Guys THAT’S SEUNG GI HUN!!
Anon: 100%
Anon: I’ve been saying that it was him!!
Anon: look at the fluffed hair in that hat
Anon: ahh… actually..
Anon: ..actually look at his ass
Anon: bruh.
Anon: BRO.
Anon: [attached cropped image of mystery man]
Anon: No. don’t look.
Anon: no homo
Anon: [attached cropped image of mystery man, red circle on his bottom, for science notes]
Anon: leave me gay thoughtssss
Anon: wow ok. That’s some curves for a man.
Anon: he’s wearing a hoodie and still has his cake poppin.
Anon: That’s edited. That’s way too fine for a man.
Anon: Article makin edits of this man for views. Poor dude.
Anon: maybe that’s a woman pretending to be a man. The hoodie and all could be a disguise.
Anon: No! That’s gihun I’m sure!!!
Anon: Crap. WAIT!!! Are they matching outfits!? FR?
Anon: HOHOHOHO TRUE
Anon: WHAT DO WE CALL BOSS AND HIS BOYFIE?
Anon: InHun <3
Anon: GiHo
Anon: Shouldn’t we not make assumption? Its boss we’re talkin here
Anon: Couple proven. Easy.
Anon: no! That’s really gi hun
Anon: I actually have much worse proof. Look. [insert photo]
Anon: OMG. Is that waist for real?
Anon: And a cake at that. World’s not fair!!!! >.<
Anon: Noice.
Anon: ey.
Anon: Ey wat. T--T
Anon: Why you have a picture of him focusing on his waist like it’s some thirst trap?
Anon: ooohhh good question
Anon: why is gi hun smiling like he knows?
Anon: looks like a selfie for a DM
Anon: looks like some thirst trap PIC
Anon: BOSS???
Anon: boss you here?
Anon: Boss we’re sorry.
Anon: is that you boss?
Anon: were just joking here.
Anon: please don’t fire us.
Anon: it’s just a joke boss
Anon: well protect Gi-hun sir!!!
Anon: Boss were just joking here!!!
Anon: lol bunch of pussies
Anon: I got the photo for reference.
Anon: LOL what?
Anon: Gi-hun is sweet. I compliment his waist and jokingly ask if I could take a pic for reference for my girlies since we’re all doing pasting.
Anon: and he said sure and poses like that.
Anon: I cut his face but left his smile coz he’s cute.
Anon: you selling out boss’ lover? To others? To your girlies?
Anon: might have…but guess he was claimed now.
Anon: I actually have some stolen snap of Gi-hun and sent it to my friends too. One of them is interested.
Anon: are we really sure about them being a couple in the first place?
Anon: right!?
Anon: would you risk it?
Anon: would you want to get fired?
Anon: would you fight boss in one on one?
Anon: would you want to die?
Anon: were full of assumption of wild imagination here.
Anon: HR might come and record this.
Anon: it’s fun tho
Anon: that’s why everyone is anon here
Anon: some are just trolling
Anon: even HR is probably here as anon as well, getting the good stuff
Anon: good stuff=gossips
Anon: good stuff=gay stuff
Anon: SHIT. OUTSIDE look
Anon: Look outside the window. The media’s piling up even more.
Anon: it’s worse than this morning.
Anon: The cook threw some reporters out after questioning them. They were asking about the mystery man.
Anon: saw that!! Thought there’s food fight.
Anon: I thought there’s a murder but it was just ketchup.
Anon: fr?
Anon: FR
Anon: YEAH. They shouldn’t mess with our frontlines at lower floors.
Anon: They have complete assassination sets in kitchen
Anon: kitchen staffs loves Seong gihun
Anon: they love him coz he eats a lot.
Anon: how can he have such good waist tho..
Anon: Guys, we should too!
Anon: Protect gihun!!!
Anon: He said his intestines are like dragon worms. His digestion is peak
Anon: Shit. I saw one coming in disguised as a client!
Anon: he said that??? He’s funny.
Anon: REPORT IT!!!
Anon: [Sent attachment: Official announcement from management.]
Anon: GUYS, EVERYONE LOOK!!! THIS IS OFFICIAL.

Management: No employee shall discuss or engage with any media regarding the recent article. Refrain from any unnecessary actions. Remember that every employee represents the company, and we must uphold its reputation. Report any suspicious activity immediately.

Anon: Shit, this is getting intense!!! EVERYBODY ON GUARD!!!
Anon: Wait shouldn’t we avoid confrontation???
Anon: Long ago, Hwang Corporation operated in peace. Then, everything changed when the media attacked. Only Seong Gi-hun, the center of all chaos (and probable secret lover of the CEO), could calm the storm. But with spies infiltrating, rumors lurking, and the media hungry for scandal, keeping him hidden has become a battle of corporate survival.
Anon: Then report??
Anon: LMAO
Anon: HAHAHHAHAAH
Anon: FUCK WE’RE SCREWED!!!

Anon: NO, NO, NO. We’ve done that. Security’s already occupied.
Anon: Only the minions of Hwang Corporation stand between him and total exposure—but will their efforts be enough, or will the company's greatest secret be revealed to the world?
Anon: DUN. DUN. DUN.
Anon: Stop Trolling!!!!
Anon: [cinematic opening music]
Anon: SHIT. UP!! UP!!
Anon: What?
Anon: A DRONE. A FUCKING SPY DRONE!!!
Anon: where!!!!???
Anon: SHIIIIIIIIT!!!
Anon: GUYS, THE SPY IS STILL HERE!!!
Anon: What do we do??????
Anon: HOW DO YOU KNOW???
Anon: I saw him in the media crowd earlier, but he had an ID pass now and got in as a client. Now he’s heading to the top floors.
Anon: SEONG GI-HUN!!! WHERE IS HE???
Anon: FIND HIM!!!
Anon: DON’T LET HIM MEET ANYONE FROM THE MEDIA.
Anon: FUCK, FUCK!!!! GOT HIM, GOT HIM!!!
Anon: WAIT, DOES HE KNOW???
Anon: NOOOOOO. DON’T TELL HIM. HE’LL PANIC. THAT DUDE’S CHAOS.
Anon: I'm listening over. He still looks ridiculous and doesn’t know a damn thing.
Anon: He’s working normally while we are dealing with catastrophe of his love life.
Anon: DON’T TELL HIM. OLD MAN WILL FAINT.
Anon: Let’s keep it to ourselves for now.
Anon: you mean us hundred plus here in GC?
Anon: OR the whole company who have saw and read the article of their date?
Anon: PICK HIM UP AND HIDE THAT GUY!!!!
Anon: WHAT!!!??
Anon: DO SOMETHING!!!
Anon: Spy spotted on the 15th floor. He's with his fake client, but he’s looking everywhere.
Anon: FUUUUCCCKKK.
Anon: He’s wearing a black suit and white polo.
Anon: WHAT!!!! THAT’S THE MOST BASIC DISGUISE—FUCKK.
Anon: I’m scared, guys.
Anon: WHERE’S GI-HUN???
Anon: Do something! We need to keep him out of sight.
Anon: WORKING ON IT!!! Sent him to the filing room. That’ll keep him busy for at least 20 minutes.
Anon: Hurry, make up more distractions. Keep the spy busy too!!!
Anon: Guys, can we use numbers at least?? This is chaotic with everyone anonymous.
Anon: So we can remove trolls too. Their existence is not helping.
Anon: Bring the cook to fight him!!!!
Anon: Bring the spoon and fork to fight!!!
Anon: These conversations are getting confusing with so much going on. Use nicknames!!!

333: Use random three-digit numbers. We're more than 400-plus here already.
333: We’ll make use of this chat group to manage the media infiltration.
333: Report and make it short. Stay online.
095: Noted.
007: Noted.
333: No spamming.
095: The drone is still roaming. It's still here on the 12th floor. What should we do?
100: Where’s the fucking sniper when we need them?
196: There’s another drone on the 25th floor. Also, my friend here said there were suspicious deliveries coming in randomly on floors 7 and 12.
380: Got that. I have my own drone and will destroy them.
380: Need backup. You hear me? 125?
125: Yeah… uh, sure... is this legal?
011: 380, 125 look at the far left table.
380: Manager confirmed go signal. We’re off to handle aerial defense.
007: I'm routing up to the 7th floor now. I'll handle it there.
THE THANOS: We caught fake deliveries on the 12th floor. Namgyu and I are taking them and hiding their bodies for now.
124: BRUH. Stop chatting and carry the BODY!!!!
095: Please don’t kill anyone. T-T
388: We’re all gonna get jailed for being accomplices.
196: You shit. One of those deliveries is legit!!! He got my order. Check if someone has boba, salmon, and salad.
333: Thanos, you’re not even part of security. What the hell are you doing?
124: He’s helping me out. I swear the guys we caught are real, except for Miss Honey Bee’s order. And yeah, we’ll bring the order up. Your driver was fine, and Thanos explained he was doing combat training.
100: And he bought it?
124: No, he didn’t even understand. He explained it in rap.
333: Well. Just make sure it’s all properly reported and that they’re just being held, not harmed.
333: Please adhere to proper protocols. I’m not getting paid enough to handle this while under leave.
048: There’s no Seong Gi-hun in the filing room.
006: Saw him going down in the elevator just now.
400: Got him. I fixed and tied his hair with some girlies in the office on the 17th floor.
401: I let him borrow my cap.
402: We offered him some snacks. He took some, but he insists on going now.
001: You touched him? And fixed his hair?
400: Yes, so he wouldn’t be easily recognized. We also gave him a mask.
401: And we told him he needs to wear it because of the infiltration going on. But we didn’t give details.
001: And you feed him? He accepts it?
333: Where is he? Did you ask? Also, good job.
402: He said he’s going down to the ground floor. He’s meeting with Jung Bae. It seems he's on a break.
333: Is there anyone from the ground floor here?
345: I do. But I'm on leave today. Honestly, I don’t even know what Seong Gi-hun looks like.
345: I work at the entrance, and I’ve never seen him enter or leave.
128: Fuck, what??
149: What do you mean? Seong Gi-hun literally caused havoc on his first day. There’s no way we all just hallucinated that kid at the same time!!! I literally fed him with my son Yong-Sik last Friday!!!
100: Calm down old lady!!
149: You calm your own shit! I didn’t survive the Korean War to be told what to do!
345: I swear, he really doesn’t pass by me.
095: Maybe he passes through the other building?
149: Yeah, Gi-hun does have lunch with the CEO in that building. He told us before.
044: I CAN FEEL THE TIME HAS COME!!!! DESTINY UNFOLDING AS THE WORLD AND SPIRITS LEAD US TO THIS MOMENT!!!
196: Shut up, Seon Nyeo!!!
218: Actually don’t. There’s one fake delivery in our floor too. Help.
218: Seon Nyeo, that guy in red and black jacket at corner…
333: Seon Nyeo you have your talisman and beads right? Can you deal with the infiltrator?
044: I SHALL BRING ENLIGHTENMENT TO THE LOST PEOPLE.
095: Oh god.
218: She’s doing it!!!! Guys!!!
256: GO SEON NYEO USE SPIRIT SUMMON!!!
388: Seon Nyeo Used Incantation Curse. It's super effective!!!
218: The man was gone. We’re safe here.
044: I have done my job and brought him in line of truth. With Great spirits guide he is a changed man.
205: No he ran away scared as shit. LOL
129: Ok. But back to our issue.
129: That still doesn’t answer how he enters and leaves the premises.
128: The other building has high security, and almost every entrance requires keycards. You can’t even pass without a certain pass.
100: You can. If you have someone with a pass.
132: Or you’re the owner of said building.
028: Or your boyfriend owns the building—DAMNNN. The lore is thickening!!!!
400: That does make sense. They might be living together.
196: OR he’s living in the CEO’S office like some pet.
402: OOOOOHHH. Spicy~
380: Seong Gi-hun’s table is basically placed inside the CEO’S room –
380: I’m not saying it's suspicious. But it is suspicious.
196: Right? His personal secretary is even outside. Why keep him in such distance?
095: For cleaning?
380: No honey. There’s barely a dust in the top floor. Gi-hun is just special.
246: Hey guys, working on Executive Office Team here. No, Gi-hun doesn’t stay in the office.
388: Yes, same here. Sir Gi-hun and I always take breaks together with the maintenance group. He’s genuinely a hard-working attendant.
246: No SPICY~ things happening. Boss is busy.
196: AW. Reality checks ruin ships.
380: Doesn’t still answer where he lives nor where he gets out.
069: Shit, I have some info on that.
345: What?
196: What?
380: What?
069: Remember the Rozen Anniversary when all employees got wine and gifts?
069: Well, my friend, who deals with that, couldn’t manage to go up to the CEO’s office to deliver it. So they dug up his address, planning to send it directly to his home—AND FOUND NOTHING.
100: Fuck. So that man really is the CEO’s lover, then.
333: You’re all way too chill now, turning this into gossip again.
333: Whatever his relationship with our boss, he’s part of the company, and we have to focus on handling this media infiltration.
390: Hi. Jung Bae here.
390: Gi-hun is not with me. He did say he was meeting me, but he’s not here. Some maintenance guy added me to this chat, and I don’t know what’s happening, but there’s no Gi-hun here.
333: SHIT.

….

Gi-hun was heading down in the elevator to meet Jung-bae for lunch when someone else stepped in. His eyes widened in recognition. Quickly, he shuffled into the far corner, adjusting his cap. When one of them glanced his way, he coughed loudly and fiddled with his mask, pretending to fix it.

The three men exchanged silent glances, communicating without words, while Gi-hun avoided direct eye contact, watching them through the reflection on the elevator walls. He was grateful for the commotion happening below, media swarming the area, employees handing out masks and caps to those moving between floors. It gave him an excuse to stay covered.

But he couldn’t shake his suspicion. Did the media incident have something to do with these men? One of them, in particular, caught his attention, a familiar face. He used to be just a lackey for a loan shark Gi-hun was once indebted to. But now, he looked different, polished, expensive. Upgraded. And the others? They looked the same. Dressed in dark suits, blending in like regular clients visiting the company.

But Gi-hun knew better. Something was off.

They all got off at the ground floor, but instead of exiting, they took another elevator leading to the third-floor parking area. Gi-hun followed, slipping up the stairs instead. From his hiding spot behind parked cars, he spotted another group, four more men, dressed the same. They were struggling to hold back a crowd of people, media maybe or random people, trying to push their way inside. Security, but not In-ho’s.

Gi-hun turned back to the trio he’d been tailing. They had approached a private guard near a parked car. Pressing himself lower behind another vehicle, he listened.

“We’re designated security,” one of the men said smoothly. “The media’s causing trouble, so we’re escorting Mr. Il-nam through a safer route to reach Mr. Hwang. We’ll be entering through another building.”

That was a lie.

Gi-hun didn’t know the other two, but he knew the man speaking. A loan shark lackey, one who had no business being here. Whatever they were planning, it wasn’t good.

He didn’t have much time or many options, so he swiftly moved toward the main target of the bad guys. Slipping to the other side of the car, he carefully waved at the tinted window. He couldn’t see a thing, it was pitch black from the outside, but he had been in the same type of car In-ho used before. He was taking a chance to interact with the person inside. He waved his hands and knock silently.

No response.

Any second now, these people would force their way in, either to take the person inside or do something worse. Gi-hun knew exactly how rotten their ways could be. If necessary, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill. He could already hear their voices rising, the argument escalating, tension building, so typical of these goons.

He was running out of time. What could he do to make the person trust him? If they were meeting Inho personally, they had to be important.

Inho.

Should he call him? No—his phone would ring, and that would catch attention. What proof could he give? His ID? No, too easy to fake. A pass card? He had his access card to the penthouse; he could bring them straight to Inho. But no—why would they trust him enough to follow, when he can’t even try to open his window.

Oh. How about-

He quickly pulled out his phone, swiped through his gallery, and found exactly what he needed. Holding his breath, he raised it to the window, hoping for the best.

It worked.

The car window rolled down smoothly, revealing an old man in a wheelchair. He studied Gi-hun carefully, but there was an amused smile on his lips, a strange reaction for someone who had just seen a simple photo.

It was just a selfie. Gi-hun in the foreground, with Inho standing behind him, smiling. It was meant for Ga-yeong, a casual introduction to his new job and "nice boss."

Ah, it might have been too casual of a shot for someone as elite as Inho. For someone like him, taking a simple selfie with a mere employee was unusual. But still, it proved his point.

The old man now knew Gi-hun was a real employee of Inho now and could be trusted. Without wasting time, Gi-hun quickly typed out a message explaining the situation on his phone and held it up for Mr. Il-nam to read.

Meanwhile, the last remaining bodyguard was still holding off the fake guards, even as they started to get physical. The others were busy elsewhere, likely part of their plan to cause a distraction. The scene was pure chaos, filled with shouting, clanging sounds, and loud arguments. Gi-hun take this noise as opportunity and  moved fast. As soon as Il-nam gave him a sign, he helped him onto his back and slipped between the parked cars behind. The old man clung to him tightly as they rushed toward the opposite exit.

Then came the moment he dreaded.  The bad guys spotted them. Their eyes locked onto Gi-hun and Il-nam, and within seconds, they were charging after them.

“Shhh… iii… tttt,” Gi-hun muttered, adjusting Il-nam’s weight on his back before taking off at full speed.

Using the back exit, he hurried down the stairs, heading toward a nearby alley, one used for deliveries to the smaller establishments below their company building.

He spotted an open door he knew and slipped inside, locking eyes with a truck driver stacking boxes of raw chicken and vegetables. A silent plea. The driver hesitated but didn’t stop him.

Gi-hun carefully set Il-nam down behind the crates, slumping beside him. His hand clamped over his mouth as he tried to silence his heavy breaths.

The three men had followed, forcing their way inside. The driver tried to hold them back, managing to stop one, but the other two pushed past, stepping in. Footsteps. Slow. Searching. They began kicking over boxes, hitting things with something heavy and solid. The crashing sounds echoed through the space. Outside, the driver’s struggle turned into a scream.

Gi-hun clenched his jaw, tightening his arms around Il-nam. He closed his eyes and crouched lower, hoping, praying, they wouldn’t be found.

Then a screech. The door creaked open. A man stepped in. Just a few steps away. His eyes landed on Gi-hun. Gi-hun didn’t move, barely breathing. His eyes held nothing but desperation. A pause. The man left. Gi-hun exhaled sharply, his chest loosening just enough to breathe.

And when the man was back, he was armed and almost slammed through the doorway making an entrance for the intruder. And behind him more people. They stepped forward, movements sharp and deliberate.  The room filled with an eerie silence, heavy and still, stretching unbearably as both sides held their ground.

Gi-hun’s heart pounded, his breath shallow. Fear and guilt twisted in his gut after he had dragged outsider into his own mess.

As everything seemed to settle, the bad guys had no choice but to temporarily halt their plan. However, they left with the certainty that their targets were indeed hiding in this establishment, and all they needed to do was wait.

Gihun was seated at one of the restaurant’s tables, with Il-nam beside him and a group of restaurant employees crowding around them. He was starving, yet the food in front of him wasn’t appetizing. His stomach twisted with unease. They were trapped now, and he might have made everything worse than it should have been.

A deep, frustrated sigh came from across the table. The man sitting there had his arms crossed, looking more pissed off than sympathetic.

“Eat.” The owner pushed the plate toward him. “Shouldn’t running and hiding be something you’re already a pro at? You’ve played this game before. Too many times. So eat the damn food, and we’ll make a plan for your escape.”

Gihun looked down at the food, then at the utensils. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and forced himself to eat. His stomach grumbled, he hadn’t eaten breakfast, and all the running had made things worse. It was better to solve problems with fuel in his system. Il-nam, on the other hand, had only taken a few bites of a sandwich and refused anything heavier. He didn’t seem that hungry.

As Gihun took a few bites, the others remained silent, watching him, waiting for him to settle down before they started their interrogation.

“Are those the same loan sharks you were indebted to before?” Sangwoo, the restaurant owner, finally asked. “Didn’t your company cover that temporarily? Why are you running again? And now, with an old man on your back?”

Gihun looked up, his mouth full, cheeks puffed. Sangwoo looked disgusted and annoyed at his friend.

“I—I'm…” Gihun stopped, swallowed, and quickly took a drink before answering. “I’m clear of debt with them for real. But I saved Mr. Il-nam here because I think they were planning something bad. They even used my boss’s name.”

“So you don’t even know him personally? And now, you’ve dragged me and my employees into your mess. Ali even got punched and has a mark on his face.”

Gihun turned to Ali, guilt washing over him. Ali stood behind Sangwoo, holding an ice pack to his cheek.

“Sorry, Ali.” Gihun’s voice was sincere. “I’ll buy you meds and ointments.”

“So what now?” Ji-yeong, the cashier, chimed in. “What’s the plan? What exactly are they after with this old guy?”

Now, everyone’s attention shifted to Il-nam.

“Do you have any idea, Mr. Il-nam?” Gihun asked, leaning slightly toward him.

Il-nam put down his unfinished sandwich and stared at the table, lost in thought.

“I’ve received multiple death threats and cryptic messages. It’s nothing new, really, just the usual threats from competitors. Most of them are just talk,” he said, almost casually. “But I guess I got a real one today, huh?” He laughed, his eyes glinting with amusement, as if he was unbothered.

“What I can be sure of is that they’re only after money. They won’t kill me…” he added with an odd, almost happy tone in his voice. “What I’m concerned about now is my hero here.” He patted Gihun’s shoulder.

Gihun gave a small but comforting smile. “Ah… don’t worry, Mr. Il-nam. I have some experience. I think I can survive another run,” he said with a light laugh.

Il-nam smirked, his gaze locking onto Gihun with an unsettling silence before he chuckled.

“I’m not actually concerned about your survival, young man,” he said. “It’s the people hunting you that I’m worried about, if they’ll make it out alive after touching you.”

A confused silence fell over the room.

“Uh… what do you mean?” Sae-byeok asked. It was the same question Gihun wanted to voice, but as he took in Il-nam’s words and the weight behind them, a sinking feeling settled in his gut. There was only one powerful person who would go to such reckless lengths for someone like him.

His grip tightened around his spoon and fork. The man he was desperately trying to avoid… was still coming for him. Just in a different way.

Il-nam simply smiled. “He understands what I mean. That’s enough.”

With his food finished and the goons outside waiting for them, Gihun knew they had limited options.

First, he could call the company or In-ho himself, but that was impossible. His phone was missing, likely dropped when he had picked up and carried Il-nam.

Second, he could borrow a phone, but he didn’t know In-ho’s number or the company’s contact. Il-nam’s phone was also left in his car, and worse, his heart medicine was in there too. The stress and running had worsened his condition, making it critical to act within the next 20 minutes or so.

Desperate, G-ihun borrowed a phone and called the only number he had memorized.

“Jung Bae?” Gi-hun called out as soon as the other side answered.

“Gi-hun!?!” came the reply, filled with intensity and concern.

“Oh god, Gi-hun, where are you now? The company is having an emergency inspection, and you’re missing!!! It’s not even just me… I mean… where the hell are you??” Jung Bae asked frantically.

“What—? I… well, I’m at Sangwoo’s restaurant. I dropped my phone, and I have an important person here who was almost kidnapped. Now we’re hiding and trapped inside. The loan sharks are outside, blending in with the media,” Gihun rushed to explain.

“Oh god, the media… Don’t get close to them ever, or else—” Jung Bae started, but then stopped himself.

“What??? What will happen? Jung Bae?”

“Just don’t leave. I’ll ask for help and report your situation.”

“You’re not answering!!! What’s with the media and me? We can’t stay here any longer. Mr. Il Nam is already having chest pain, and it’s my fault. I don’t want to be a killer over a random mistake of half-assing to be helpful. We’re leaving now. It’s not a choice, Jung Bae. Answer me. And help me.”

“The media… the media is specifically looking out for you,” Jung Bae answered defeatedly. Gihun held his breath, waiting for the weight of those words to fully sink in.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but you’ll find out anyway… There was an article about you and the boss posted today. It has a malicious headline about you guys dating. There’s a photo of you and the boss at the observatory tower. You’re holding hands… and even hugging. Your face is partly hidden, but multiple claimants have informed them that you’re an employee. So now, the media is all gathered, waiting for you, trying to dig up more gossip about this matter with our CEO. I don’t know if it’s fake or not, Gihun… but I’m really scared for your safety. Just one glimpse of your unmasked face, and it’s obvious it’s you.”

There was only silence. Pure awkwardness. The people who had gathered around to listen in on the call had heard everything.

“Jung Bae, call the police now.” Gihun ended the call and handed the phone back to Sangwoo, murmuring his thanks.

A storm raged inside him, threatening to explode, but more than his emotions and this new problem that made his gut twist with shame and guilt, he knew his priority lay with Il Nam’s condition.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to push aside all other concerns. Once he had calmed down and refocused, he lifted Il Nam onto his back, ready to move.

“We’re going now,” he stated firmly to his friends. The others in the restaurant were speechless, their faces filled with concern, but they couldn’t stop him. They couldn’t even question his plan, they could only watch as he walked out, heading straight into two waves of danger, completely defenseless.

The moment he stepped outside, he kept his pace steady, aiming for the main entrance of their company building. A few steps in, men in suits, blending in with the normal crowd, started to shift, subtly moving to get closer. Some of them reached into their coats or pockets, but it didn’t make Gihun falter. If anything, he was relieved.

Everything was going according to plan.

The goons were closing in. He and Il Nam were in the center, halfway to their destination. And most importantly, the media was there, cameras on standby, ready to capture everything.

“Mr. Il Nam, can you take off my cap and mask, please?” Gihun requested, his face set with determination. “This might be a dramatic entrance, but it’s the only way we can deal with the goons,” he added, chuckling nervously.

As he stepped onto the large stairs leading to the building, with the goons close enough to strike at any moment, he suddenly stopped and raised his head.

“HEY, MEDIA!!!!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “YOU SAID YOU WERE LOOKING FOR ME?!?”

His words sent a ripple through the crowd.

The press surged forward immediately, cameras flashing, microphones extending, voices overlapping in a chaotic frenzy. They captured everything, the goons, their movements, the tension in the air.

Gihun watched in satisfaction as his plan fell into place. The goons were now trapped in the stampede of journalists. It was chaotic, but at least for now, their lives were safe.

The press swarmed around him, shoving microphones in his face, pushing against him with their suffocating presence.

Company guards began to emerge from the building, along with Il Nam’s personal security, who rushed forward with a wheelchair.

“We were ambushed by kidnappers. They’re blending in with the crowd...they’re trapped here now. And Mr. Il Nam needs his medication… Please, just ...just...”

But the media didn’t stop. They didn’t care. They kept shouting their questions, demanding answers. Only when sirens blared behind him and the police encircled the crowd did the press finally quiet down. Il Nam was suddenly pulled from Gihun’s back, but he quickly saw it was his personal security taking over, administering his medication. That was one less thing to worry about.

One by one, the thugs were apprehended, restrained by the police. The moment the tension in his chest started to ease, a camera flashed directly at his face. Even though the police were still rounding up the criminals, the press had already shifted their attention back to him. Like vultures, their focus was now entirely on him. He feels weak and tired. And honestly, reaching this situation and dealing with these people, the only thing he can do, or answer is simply to tell the truth, that he is not in a relationship with Hwang Corporation CEO. He is just a mere employee. And about the photo, he won’t deny it, but he also won’t claim anything beyond it, just a comforting gesture to them at that time. And that’s it.

His heart feels awful, and he wishes the world would just swallow him whole rather than face these people. His lips trembled. He was scared to open his mouth, to say anything at all.

Then a hand gripped his. Looking down, he saw Il Nam seated comfortably in his wheelchair, gazing up at him with calm reassurance.

“I’ll handle this,” he said, smiling. “Consider it my thanks for saving me.” Then, almost in a whisper, he added, “Also… for that idiot niece of mine.” Gi-hun barely caught the words.

Il Nam tapped his cane loudly against the footrest of his wheelchair. The sharp sound echoed, silencing the press. That’s when Gi-hun noticed it, behind them, Il Nam’s bodyguards, along with some of Inho’s security, had formed a solid wall. Their expressions were cold, warning. Any inappropriate move from the press would not be tolerated.

Finally, there was space to breathe. Yet, cameras continued to flash.

“Enough of this unprofessional nonsense!” Il Nam’s voice cut through the air. “There was a real threat here, and all you care about is some baseless gossip?” His tone dripped with mockery, smooth and commanding, eerily reminiscent of someone Gi-hun knew.

“I’ve been receiving death threats. My nephew, Hwang Inho, has been handling everything on his own managing the company while dealing with these dangerous groups. My safety has been so compromised that I rarely leave my residence.”

"And yet, this man right here—Seong Gihun, my direct employee, just risked his life to save me. And all you care about is a ridiculous rumor?”

Silence.

A reporter opened their mouth, but Il Nam cut them off.

“Inho is not some emotionless machine, as you people make him out to be. And Seong Gihun is not just some worker. I trust him. In-ho trusts him, enough to share the crucial matters he’s personally handling.”

"If a simple moment of comfort between them is enough for you all to twist into scandalous nonsense, ruining the only bit of relief In-ho has—then shame on you!”

He coughed, his frail body shaking.  Gi-hun worried more about his health than the bold lie he had just told.

“And if that answers everything,” Il-Nam finished, “I suggest you leave before I file charges and have you taken away along with the kidnappers.” A threat. And just like that the media was forced to back off.

…..

Gi-hun was taken to Oh Il-nam’s car, leaving and dropping him off at the back of a residential building to meet In-ho.

He couldn't help but fidget during the short ride, knowing he was about to face In-ho again, and with that, confront everything he had been running away from.

This morning, he was lucky enough to avoid him, as In-ho had left early and hadn’t woken him up. Last night was a turning point for him, something he could no longer deny or brush off as just a dream, a wet dream he could forget and pretend never happened.

That night, In-ho had left him sensitive and hard. Aching and weak. Awake and alone.

He had no choice but to deal with it quickly before the reason behind his torment woke up and found him in an unholy situation in the bathroom.

Sitting up gently, he carefully moved In-ho’s arm, which had fallen over him in sleep. He bit his trembling lips, cursing the man in silence for putting him in this state without taking responsibility. With both hands on his face, he tried to sort through the confusion, the mess of emotions, the overwhelming sensations. He took a deep, silent breath before finally stepping out of bed to deal with it.

The moment he stepped into the bathroom, his legs gave out, and he slid down against the closed door, slumping onto the cold bathroom floor. His brain was in disarray, flooded with too many feelings, unsettling, overwhelming, confusing, and shameful. But he couldn’t process all of that now. His body needed release first. So he let instinct take over.

He shut off the lights, along with his thoughts, and let his hands take over. Fingers moved on instinct, slipping beneath his waistband, barely ghosting over his straining length. The first stroke made him jerk, breath hitching at the sharp contrast of his own warmth against the cold, damp floor beneath him.

His grip tightened, strokes turning fluid, wet, desperate, seeking relief. His breath grew ragged, hips jerking into his grasp with uncontrolled, messy thrusts. His head knocked against the door, slipping further down, making him slide even lower onto the floor.

His body begged for more. Faster. Harder. His strokes turned slick, obscene sounds echoing in the small space as he chased a climax that felt agonizingly close yet just out of reach.

“Fuck. Please. Fuck. Let me cum,” he moaned, voice trembling, eyes stinging with tears.

“Fuck… God… I’m close… let me… let me...” He gasped, pleasure mounting, but still not enough.

“Fuckk…” His voice broke, body quaking, breaths uneven—pleading, desperate, unraveling in the darkness.

“In-ho… let me cum… In-ho… In-ho…”

In-ho…

And it was in that name, in those words, that his body surrendered, finally reaching release.

That night, that moment. And now, this article and the commotion he had made himself the center of made him want to run. To flee. To avoid facing In-ho. He was scared, and more than that, he wasn’t ready.

And now, the man whose name he had moaned in secret last night was walking toward him at a fast pace, his face furious, dangerous, his eyes locked solely on him.

Before he could react, In-ho grabbed his wrist, his grip so tight and firm it would bruise once he let go. No words were exchanged. In-ho simply picked him up without a second thought, not even sparing a glance at Il-nam or anyone else in the parking lot.

As they walked away, Il-nam scoffed, his voice ringing out behind them.

“You ungrateful bastard!” he spat. “Don’t let your pet loose. There won’t be a next time for saving.”

Chapter Text

5 days later

8:00 pm

Palais Céleste

Hwang Corp’s 100th Anniversary Gala

The ballroom was a masterpiece of elegance, draped in emerald, ivory, and gold. Towering white columns reached a ceiling adorned with intricate gold carvings, while crystal chandeliers bathed the marble floor in a warm glow. Deep green velvet drapes framed grand windows overlooking the dazzling city skyline.

Guests embodied the lavish motif, men in tailored emerald suits with gleaming gold accents, women in shimmering champagne gowns adorned with jewelry, their laughter blending into the hum of conversation. Servers moved gracefully through the crowd, expertly balancing trays of cocktails and wines, and delicate appetizers, ensuring the evening’s indulgence never wavered.

The place was bright—immaculate. Gi-hun stopped to take it in, feeling small against its overwhelming brilliance. Yet, somehow, the contrast was comforting, like being a mere speck in all this grandeur made it easier to exist. Among people who sparkled effortlessly, he was free to drift unnoticed, his quiet steps swallowed by the splendor. It was a stark contrast to the man beside him—In-ho, who didn’t just belong here but commanded it, standing like the very center of it all

Even in a room full of power and wealth, he stood apart, effortlessly poised, strikingly composed. His pitch-black tuxedo, perfectly tailored, framed every sharp line of his body. The crisp white dress shirt, unbuttoned just enough, revealed a hint of golden skin and the defined cut of his collarbone.

Every detail was deliberate, the way the fabric fit, the way light seemed drawn to him, accentuating sharp angles and cold beauty. His dark hair, neatly styled, was flawless, not a strand out of place. And when he moved, it was with a quiet elegance, smooth and controlled, as if the world itself bent to his pace.

Then he smiled.

And like moths to a flame, people were drawn to him.

It was a devastating thing, that smile—just enough teeth, just enough charm. Never too much, never overdone. It disarmed, invited, yet still held something unreachable at its core. A beautiful mouth, lips curved with intent, like he knew exactly the effect he had on people.

Gi-hun watched it unfold in real time—the way heads turned, the way conversations paused a beat too long. It wasn’t just his looks, though those were undeniable. It was the way he carried himself, the way his presence filled the space effortlessly.

And then he laughed.

A low, rich sound, smooth as aged whiskey, laced with an easy warmth that made people lean in without realizing. His laughter had weight, distinct, never too loud, never empty. Measured, like everything about him, yet so natural it was impossible not to be drawn in.

Then he spoke.

If his smile and laughter captivated, his voice commanded.

Low, smooth, each syllable deliberates. He spoke with an effortless ease, turning conversation into an art, eloquent, precise, never wasting a single word. And yet, he was adaptable, shifting seamlessly from one person to the next.

He understood people. Knew what they wanted to hear, knew exactly how much to give while never revealing too much. Every exchange was calculated, precise like he was always a step ahead.

In-ho looks perfect. Because he is. Gracious, composed, a figure so effortlessly formidable that admiration comes without question.

Except he isn’t. No human is, but people forget.

Inho is human too.

A mask so well-worn it has fused with his skin, molded so tightly that even he has begun to believe it. He is. He must be. He should be. A Flawless, untouchable, devoid of weakness being. An unshaken force- Hwang In-ho.

5 days ago

In-ho dragged Gi-hun forward, his grip unrelenting. Pain shot through Gi-hun’s wrist; his hand growing numb. The way In-ho had looked at him before locking his grip, his behavior and the complete ignorance of the world watching him as his mask slipped off for the first time, unfiltered, bothered Gi-hun. In-ho’s hurried pace felt like one falter could lose its destination forever, and his silence hold something bottled up, reaching its limit. It filled Gi-hun with a rush of panic, a fear that twisted in his chest, not just for himself, but also for In-ho.

Gi-hun called his name, over and over, gasping that he was in pain, but it was useless. In-ho didn’t loosen his hold, didn’t even acknowledge him. It wasn’t just the force of being pulled along or the struggle to keep up, it was the way In-ho’s fingers were locked around his wrist as the fangs of something rabid clamped onto its prey.

The sting of skin against skin crushed with the grip that pulsed and trembled ever so slightly. His breath hitched, his heart stuttering in his chest as they continued onward. Finally, they reached their home, locking the door behind them, shutting out the world. It was just the two of them now, together, safe, and sealed away from everything else.

In-ho stopped and took a short, low gasp of breath. Unmoving—only his back shifting with stiff, shallow, unsteady breaths can be seen and heard. Still, his hold never faltered, never loosened nor freed his capture. It was there, his hands trembling, tight around Gi-hun’s wrist, suffocating in the stillness of the dark, empty entrance.

Gi-hun, confused, hurting, scared, but more than anything else, concerned, couldn’t keep up with the silence any longer. The tension built, pressing down, threatening to break them both at any moment.

“In-ho…?”

The door slammed.

A force so violent it sent a crack of sound through the walls. Wood rattled. The air shook. And pain followed.

Gi-hun flinched, a sharp sting cutting through his ear. In-ho’s free hand had caught him in the motion as he slammed the door, knuckles grazing too hard, too sharp, slicing his skin. His body jerked back against the impact, breath catching, shrinking, cowering.

His lips quivered. His heart rushing, pumping in his eardrum. His body screamed danger but his feet stayed locked in place, paralyzed.

The fist curled against the wood, fingers digging in, clawing. The sound was sharp, grating—nails dragging the door. A warning and a threat. But the grip that locked Gi-hun in place, wrapped around his wrist, was worse. Tight and Bruising. Trembling, pouring in intensity.

"You—" In-ho’s voice came low, raw, shaking but still cutting. His breath was ragged, his chest rising too fast and shallow. His whole body shook with anger, each word seething under its weight.

"You idiot," he said low, almost a whisper, as he leaned into him, his words coiled with such ferocity, like the edge of a knife pointed, ready to stab. His teeth clenched; jaw tight it ached.

Another slam. The impact crashed through the air, rattling Gi-hun’s bones, forcing him smaller, smaller against the wall, unable to return the furious gaze. His heart’s uneased drumming and the slow, grating scrape of wood behind his head warped, echoing into the silence each time In-ho’s voice paused between curses.

“You stupid. Fucking. Idiot.” The words spat out, venomous with a rage that felt like a crushing squeeze straight to his heart with each word.

“Fucking Pet.”

His voice broke on the last word, barely audible, almost nothing more than lips ghosting over the syllables, mouthing it. And yet, it carried the most haunting weight, laced with mockery, with something cruel. Degrading. With it, his grip tightened. Nails pressed deeper, implanting pain into the very word he had spoken.

Pet.

The bruising hold, the sheer intensity of how limply yet mercilessly he was seized, made Gi-hun’s fingers twitch, on the verge of lifelessness. If In-ho clenched any harder, his bones might snap. Gi-hun’s breath shuddered still he remain completely immobile.

“How could you do this to me?” In-ho’s voice cracked.

The breath In-ho sucked in stayed stuck in his throat, never exhaling. His chest heaved, desperate, breathless, but no air left him. But more than words, the deep, erratic shaking of a hand clawing in Gi-hun was trembling painfully, more than his, more than his pinned hands that he can no longer feel.

Tear-blurred, shaken eyes finally chose to lift—only to meet something worse.

In-ho was shattering. Broken. He was shaking far worse than him, contradicting every cruel intent he had toward this so-called pet. His body pulse, collapsing, and begging.

And then In-ho’s nails carved into the wood again. A slow, grating screech, dragging against the door as if he were trying to tear through it, clinging to the last fragile threads of his sanity, refusing to let his body collapse completely. It was instinctual, so much so that even he didn’t fully comprehend it. His body and mind were at odds, contradicting each other, yet both screamed with pain and suffering. Coping differently. Desperately. Badly.

 “You are not allowed to leave.” He gasped, his words nearly hitching on his breath, choking him. “Not ever again.” He cried, voice hoarsed.

 Again, his eyes struck. Dominating, subjugating with the same intensity as his locked grasp, filled with animosity. Yet, it clashed with his minced begging words, his fractured voice, and his deteriorating body.

Another slam, but this time, it was weak. Faltering. The door still rattled, and the walls still trembled, but not from force. From In-ho himself. His knees buckled, his weight pressing forward, pushing against Gi-hun, not with force, not to hurt, but because his body had given out. His forehead pressed against Gi-hun’s, breath ragged.

“I won’t allow you.” The breathlessness made the words choke.

“You’re mine.” It was strained but forced out, carrying something vital, something more than anything else for In-ho.

Everything was raw. Clear. Unavoidable at such a close distance as their eyes locked. The heat of In-ho’s breath, quick, shallow, desperate gasps. The unsteady twitch of his fingers, still trembling violently. The wildness in his gaze, sharp, piercing. And yet, they shone. Tears. Broken.

“You can’t leave.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Not you too...”

“Stay...”      

Mouths crashed.

It was messy, desperate. Gi-hun’s last attempt to shut him up, to stop the agony spilling past his lips. In-ho’s breath hitched against him, a sharp inhale that never fully left his lungs before Gi-hun stole it, making it his. In-ho’s lower lip, dry and trembling, was caught between Gi-hun’s, soft and unrelenting.

Gi-hun pressed harder. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. He felt everything, the way In-ho shook against him, the way his body caved, the way his hands clenched weakly at his shirt barely holding on. He forced himself in deeper. In-ho’s jaw trembled before snapping open, giving way as Gi-hun pushed further.

Gi-hun held him, fingers pressing into his back, gripping tight, steadying him, angling him for better entry. Their mouths melded, his tongue hot as it met the mix of salt and bitterness, tasting, consuming. In-ho barely kept up, his breath choking on the greedy, possessive intrusion, but never withdrawing. Gi-hun kneaded against In-ho’s tongue, rolling, coaxing like drawing him back to life with every ignited press and heated glide. It was messy, hurried, heated. It slowly woke In-ho. Grounded him. Unraveled him, and in turn, it was just as much a dangerous exploration for Gi-hun, intoxicatingly blowing his senses, his body aching down more.

Heat burned where their chests met, radiating off In-ho as his body sank, leaned, needing. Gi-hun took it all, took it as something real, a sense returning to the man in his arms. That was all he wanted. That was all he aimed for.

He pushed deeper, the warmth between them building, each movement lost in the fluid exchange that gathered between them. His body trembled as he gave in, consumed by the reckless, intoxicating way they communicated.

I’m here.

Feel me.

Taste me.

Have me.

Come back…In-ho.

And then—In-ho surged back.

Gi-hun’s knees nearly buckled. His head knocked against the door, body bending, sinking, forced to lean into the corner wall for support. In-ho’s hands shot up, clinging desperately to his neck, not strong, not forceful, but heavy, his entire stance fully dependent on Gi-hun as his legs gave out. One foot dangled, barely grazing the floor, the other on tiptoe, shaking, struggling to stay upright, struggling not to collapse, struggling not to let even the smallest gasp of space form between their mouths.

Weak as his body was, In-ho’s mouth was the only thing still alive.

The way he kissed, rougher, sloppier, hungrier, like something starving, like a pitiful thing tasting flesh for the first time. It sent Gi-hun’s head spinning, had his grip tightening, nails pressing into In-ho’s skin just to keep them from falling. Control slipped, diverted from Gihun—his mouth surrendering, taken, consumed. In-ho wouldn’t allow a second of distance. He would rather suffocate against Gi-hun’s mouth than breathe without him.

And every second he did withdraw back only made him more desperate, made him crash back with force, forceful enough to bruise, to leave Gi-hun gasping into the wet, suffocating heat between them. Their mouths moved frantically, teeth grazing, tongues clashing, saliva thick and spilling over between parted lips, drowning Gi-hun, suffocating him with the overwhelming, intoxicating way In-ho took.

It was wrecked. Reckless.

The back of Gi-hun’s head thudded into the wood again and again as In-ho shoved in harder, his weight pressing down with no regard for balance. His arms trembled, slick with sweat, hands slipping off Gi-hun’s skin only to grab back with more force. He curled his fingers around the back of Gi-hun’s neck, yanking him in, swallowing his breath, taking everything he could get from Gi-hun.

A deep, guttural grunt rumbled from In-ho’s throat as he pulled Gi-hun in, claiming him, swallowing his moans and the fluids that spilled between them. He sucked at Gi-hun’s lips, devouring them, feeling them swell against his own before gasping, momentarily freeing them, only to pry them open and surge in deeper. Gi-hun shuddered, his heat, his helpless moans spilling into their mouths, drowning in the slick desperation between them. It coated their hunger, fed the unending thirst, and In-ho drank it all like a man lost in intoxication, savoring every drop.

The trembling gasps of two men, almost coinciding, echoing, responding to each other, rang loud in the dark entryway. Their mouths never parted for long, lips dragging, tongues curling, greed unraveling between breaths. Heat swelled between them, feverish and unrelenting.

Then, In-ho’s grip faltered, his movements slowing, kisses growing sluggish.

Gi-hun finally gasped for air, chest heaving, his dazed, lust-blown eyes fluttering open, just in time to feel In-ho slump against him.

His lips stilled, breath uneven, while the man who had devoured him just moments ago now lay slack, his breathing steady, at ease.

Passed out. Again. For the second time, leaving him in a crucial situation alone.

As Gi-hun lay in bed, his body still tense from the effort of dragging In-ho there after their messy make-out, he finally had a moment to breathe. His heart was still racing, though not as wildly as before, but it was enough to remind him of what had just happened. He placed a hand over his chest, staring wide-eyed at the man sleeping beside him.

Idiot. You fucking idiot pet, indeed. He muttered the words to himself, replaying In-ho’s earlier remark but twisting its meaning. In the end, he was still an idiot.

He exhaled deeply, trying to steady his shaking fingers. The weight of everything pressed down on him, the overwhelming emotions clawing at his chest. He scrunched his eyes shut, bit his lip, and crouched in on himself as he struggled to hold it all in. But a quiet sob escaped before he could stop it, followed by a few stray tears.

Not now. Maybe not ever. He wiped his face roughly, forcing the emotions aside.

Pushing himself upright, he left the bedroom and went straight to the telephone, speed-dialing the concierge. He instructed them to connect him to the company building’s receptionist. Once the call went through, he introduced himself and requested to be patched through to In-ho’s driver.

When the driver finally answered, Gi-hun immediately explained the situation. He was certain he had left his company-issued phone in the third-floor parking lot and asked for it to be retrieved. A long silence followed, tense and unreadable, before the driver finally let out a quiet sigh.

The phone had been broken. However, a replacement was already being arranged, and an employee would deliver a new one to him soon, as per protocol. The driver relayed all of this in a smooth, practiced tone, carefully avoiding any mention of how or why the phone had been damaged.

Gi-hun noticed but chose not to press the issue. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Within fifteen minutes, Gyeong-suk arrived at the linkway, handing over the replacement phone. It was the exact same model, with the same number still registered. His expression remained unchanged, unaffected by the articles or the attention-seeking drama Gi-hun had stirred with the media that afternoon.

The lack of reaction was oddly comforting. In a day filled with chaos, Gyeong-suk’s quiet normalcy was something Gi-hun hadn’t realized he needed. A small anchor in the middle of everything. He muttered a quick thanks before parting ways and heading straight back to the penthouse.

As soon as he returned to the penthouse, Gi-hun moved quickly, his thoughts preoccupied with In-ho. The lingering worry of leaving him alone pressed at the back of his mind. He needed to be sure In-ho was still there, still resting, still undisturbed. When he reached the bedroom, he found him asleep, his breathing steady, unchanged from when Gi-hun had left. Relief settled in his chest, though it didn’t do much to quiet the restlessness in his mind.

Not wanting to linger, he grabbed his new phone and stepped outside. The silence of the room felt heavy, and the weight of everything that had happened still clung to him. He needed air, space, something to clear his head. And above all, he needed someone to talk to, someone who could pull him away from his thoughts, even for a little while.

Jung-bae picked up, and Gi-hun barely had to ask before everything spilled out. Everyone had seen the articles. There had been a group chat, now deleted, where people scrambled to manage the fallout as media swarmed the company. Then came the real problem: the moment it was reported that Gi-hun had suddenly gone off the grid, not even five minutes later, In-ho had called for an emergency inspection. Every department was checked, a sudden headcount ordered without warning. It had been framed as a routine procedure, but everyone knew better.

Security had shifted priorities immediately, scanning CCTV footage, tracking movements, searching for him like he was a missing asset instead of a person. When they finally traced his last location to the parking lot, In-ho had gone there himself. People who saw him later said he had looked... wrong. There was an edge to him, something razor-sharp and volatile. He walked through the halls with a presence that made people shrink back, silent, instinctively avoiding eye contact.

And when he reached the parking lot, he found Gi-hun’s phone. He had picked it up, gripped it so hard it cracked under his fingers before he crushed it completely. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he had thrown it to the ground and stomped on it until there was nothing left but broken pieces. No one had dared to intervene. They had just stood there, watching as he let his rage bleed out in silence.

After that, he had gone straight back inside and started making a call. There was no shouting, no threats, just the slow, deliberate weight of his steps, heavier with something far more unsettling. His hair was disheveled, gripped and pulled in frustration, rough and impatient, a desperate reaction to the control slipping from his grasp.

His suit was unbuttoned, his undershirt slightly unkempt, tie loosened but not removed. His breaths were shallow, barely noticeable but too evident for someone like him. Something not him.

As he spoke, his voice remained low, disturbingly smooth. He made another call, then another, to Il-nam’s personal guard, to his own security, to those monitoring the CCTV, and more. He moved through the hall with quiet purpose, his presence heavy, pressing down on everyone in his path. No one dared to meet his gaze. No one even shifted in their seats. His anger didn’t need to be loud; it pulsed in the air, thick and suffocating, an unseen force that gripped the room in silence. It was a quiet kind of terror, the kind that seeped into the bones, that made people too afraid to even breathe in his presence.

And then, when the call ended and the tension finally broke, he was just gone. But not the weight of him. Not the quiet, lingering threat he had left behind in the air.

The five days passed with In-ho occupied, cleaning up the mess Gi-hun had caused, alongside urgent meetings with executives and shareholders like Il-nam, who demanded a personal meeting. On top of that, the looming company anniversary event required his full attention, leaving no room for conversation or even for Gi-hun to ask if In-ho remembered or acknowledged anything from the time he collapsed.

As for Gi-hun, his daily work continued as usual. There were a few slip-ups, like Dae-ho and some friends questioning the truth behind the article. Gi-hun, obviously uncomfortable with the topic, was left in awkward silence, unable to answer. A few of his superiors even gave reprimanding looks when they overheard private discussions involving the CEO, subtly protecting Gi-hun and deeming it inappropriate for people to be slipping up.

Their nights stayed the same, with In-ho coming home late, slipping into the same side of the bed, and holding Gi-hun close, finding comfort in the familiar.

Nothing was resolved. Feelings were kept, simmering, waiting to overflow, as another side unraveled. Two forces hovered on the edge, ready to clash and intertwine into a chaos.

Chapter Text

The clinks of toasts with In-ho and the other people surrounding him snapped Gihun out of his thoughts. He had been forcefully pushed out of his place beside In-ho. He felt distant. He felt cold. A twinge of emptiness settled inside him from the inevitable distance forced between them. He can feel something in his eyes. He reaches for it, unaware, drying it quickly and breathing deeply to compose himself.

A part of him reasoned that this was just pure concern for In-ho—his unclear stability from before, his overall state, something that Gihun never truly comprehended and found unsettling. He never knew if something deeper had caused it or if he himself had triggered it. He never had a chance, and now, he would never know.

Still, it lingered, that one night that refused to fade within him. The past few days had been spent apart, each working as if nothing had changed. It was normalcy, complete normalcy, for In-ho, for everyone, even for him. At least, on the outside.

Worse still, In-ho might not even remember. Not the night. Not the words, the curses. Not his breakdown. Not the kiss.

Maybe it was just his selfish feelings spilling over after all.

He had shoved them aside, buried them beneath responsibilities and routine. He prioritized In-ho first, his comfort, his peace, and his pace. But his feelings were still there, simmering, welling up inside. And, with every passing day of silence, leaving him an emptiness to fill and drown in negativity, conflict, and regret. It was a mess of emotions, but there was no use in dwelling on it, not now when In-ho needed him the most. He had no right to make it worse by mixing it with his issues.

Gihun exhaled, shaking his head, and forcing his thoughts into order.

Looking up, he found In-ho afar busy amid the crowd, but his gaze was locked onto him alone, steady, unyielding. That same gaze, always drawing him in. Gihun forced a smile, and In-ho smiled as well. Brighter, warmer than the ones he gave to those around him. And just like that, Gihun’s smile turned real.

None of it mattered—not his feelings, not the past, not the uncertainty. What mattered was In-ho.

Gihun soon left his position, turned, and stepped away, alone. He was overthinking, overfeeling. But now, he had his resolve. It should be enough to clear his path when things become overwhelming.

He might be a pet to his master. A master with a world so vast that a meager pet like him could never comprehend, the grandeur, the dark roots. And a pet with a whole life seemed built around the sole existence of his master. He might be exactly that. Almost a real animal. A pet, dependent. In-ho was his world right now. His second chance, his hope, his happiness, even his pain.

But he was Seong Gi-hun. He wasn’t just a pet. This was a reminder before he completely forgot himself. Outside of his life with In-ho, he had his existence. He had grown. He had become capable. He had built relationships and earned friendships on his own. And now, more than ever, he needed to step up. Not just for In-ho. But for himself.

Gihun wandered through the lively crowd, scanning the room until he spotted an empty table. He was just about to take a seat when an arm suddenly landed on his shoulders, nearly knocking him off balance.

He looked up to find Dae-ho grinning down at him, with Gyeong-suk sliding into a chair beside him, and Jang-geum arriving with his son, playfully slapping Gihun on the arm the usual.

Gi-hun blinked, caught off guard, but then something inside him eased. The warmth of their presence, the way they immediately pulled him in, it was comforting, and exactly what he needed at that moment. It made him feel warm, occupied and belonged.

With that, the night began. Drinks flowed freely, plates piled high with food, and laughter filled the space. Gihun wasn’t drunk, not really, but he had enough in his system to relax, to let loose without completely losing himself.

At some point, Gi-hun pulled Gyeong-suk aside, insisting he take something home. The man had mentioned being a single father caring for a sickly child, and it struck a chord, Gi-hun knew all too well the weight of that worry. When Gyeong-suk hesitated, Gi-hun didn’t wait; he took it upon himself to ask for an assortment of sweets, cookies, and fruit tarts to be packed for him, something his daughter could enjoy.

The staff, amused by Gi-hun’s persistence, played along despite the usual rule against take-home treats. Even Gyeong-suk, clearly embarrassed, couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He just smiled shyly, shaking his head as everyone around them teased him.

The energy was light, the atmosphere easy, and then Gihun caught sight of something unexpected.

Near the main table, trays were being set down by two familiar figures. Saebyeok and Ali moved smoothly through the crowd, bringing plates to various tables. When Gihun spotted them, his face lit up with a smile. He called out to them and made his way over. Without hesitation, he stood and pulled them both into a hug, his heart lifting at the sight of his friends.

Ali and Sae-byeok had taken on part-time work as servers for the event, while Ji-yeong managed service upstairs. With their restaurant supplying some of the dishes, it was an easy way to earn extra.

After a moment of catching up, Gihun’s group moved to a spot near the catering table, where his coworkers met with his old friends. Eager to dig up some juicy stories, they quickly began poking fun at him. He felt his cheeks flush but didn’t stop them.

Ali, grinning, jumped in first, telling everyone how he’d recently found himself in a sticky situation while saving Mr. Ilnam. He described how, in the chaos, Gihun had crouched behind a pile of chicken boxes with Mr. Ilnam while the goons knocked him out, leaving the rest of the staff trapped as the situation escalated outside. Ali even pointed to his bruised cheek, showing off the evidence of his ‘brave escape.’ The group chuckled, and Gihun could only smile, feeling a bit embarrassed but amused by how his friends twisted the details.

The good mood and jokes carried on throughout the evening. It wasn’t just the alcohol that was making him feel this way, it was the comfort of being surrounded by friends and people who genuinely cared about him.

Just then, another pair approached, and Gihun felt a light tap on his cheek, still full of food. He looked up and saw it was Jun Hee, the pregnant woman he had accidentally bumped into on his first day. Worry flashed across him, and he quickly straightened up, ready to apologize. In his haste, he forgot he was still holding a plate. The food slid slightly, and he almost watched it slip off. His arms instinctively raised to catch it, and though he managed to save the plate just in time, it made him look a bit silly.

Jun Hee couldn’t help but laugh, a soft, melodic sound and the tension Gihun had been holding onto melted away.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said, her smile reassuring. “I’m not mad about it. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Gihun, now breathing easier, smiled sheepishly and finally spoke, his tone more sincere. “Jun Hee, I really am sorry about that day... I didn’t mean to bump into you, especially with you being pregnant. I should’ve been more careful,” he said, his voice soft and genuine.

Jun Hee’s smile only grew as she patted his chest lightly as they stand. “It’s alright. No harm done. Myung-gi just got a little worked up, that’s all.”

She turned to glance at her husband, who was standing behind her with his arms crossed and pouting. “He just overreacted,” she said with a playful huff, then leaned in closer to Gihun. Understanding the hint, he leaned down, offering her his ear. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “But, you know, I came all the way to attend, curious about the new guy who managed to win over our CEO.”

Gihun immediately blushed and pulled back at her teasing, nearly stumbling as he stepped back into his chair. Jun Hee giggled and gently pushed him back down into his seat, smiling down at him. She was shorter than him, and now that he was sitting, it put her in a more comfortable position, not having to strain her neck to look up at him.

Jun Hee smiled and let out a soft sigh, calming herself as she gently rested her hand on her pregnant belly, the slight curve peeking out beneath her dress. She leaned in once more, delicately tucking Gihun’s bangs behind his ear with one of her small, slender, manicured nails. “Your bangs are way too long,” she chuckled. “You can barely see the little things right in front of you. Y’know, someone like me,” she added with another soft laugh.

Everyone at the table laughed, and Gihun couldn’t help but grin, feeling lighter.

“Thanks for sticking up for Myung-gi,” Jun Hee added, giving him a wink. “And for keeping the boss in line.”

Gihun just smiled in response, his heart full. Myung-gi nodded in acknowledgment before excusing himself and Jun Hee, both heading out for an early leave.

The evening carried on with more laughs and jokes. As the night went on, Gihun felt more at ease. With each conversation, his connections with others deepened, and he realized that he wasn’t just fitting in, he was becoming a part of something, and it felt good.

….

In-ho was consumed by the endless stream of people he had to accommodate and greet. It was a simple task, one of the main points of his existence in attending this event. He never approached these gatherings with any real sense of personal gratification. He had grown so accustomed to the place that it had become almost an eyesore—the people, too.

He had to make physical contact with so many, kisses for some women, handshakes, hugs—all while effortlessly letting lies and flattery slip from his lips. There was a time when he had taken some pleasure in it, treating people as challenges to overcome, savoring the quiet triumph of winning them over. But that had been ages ago. Now, only responsibility kept him going.

In contrast, a deep disgust had grown inside him at how much he had to touch others. He had never liked it, not even when he was young, never had the chance to. Yet, in these events, physical interaction had always felt natural and expected. But over time, his indifference had slowly turned into disgust

One warmth stood out to him throughout his life, a warmth too special to be anything but his. A warmth that had to stay close, never far, never out of reach.

In-ho had been so lost in his duties that he nearly forgot the presence beside him, his pet, whose bright eyes were captivated by the simple decor. He looked breathtaking, lost in awe of the scenery. He wore a deep ivy green suit with white lining accents on its lapels and sleeve cuffs, paired with basic black pants and a black polo underneath.

As much as In-ho hated seeing him in anything he hadn’t personally provided, Il-nam’s gift, given as thanks, was frustratingly acceptable. The quality suited him well, too well for In-ho’s liking.

…

Il-nam had demanded a meeting with him, but In-ho knew all too well it had nothing to do with business. It would be just another dinner where his uncle would press him about Gihun’s position in his life. To all his relatives, he was indifferent, least of all to Il-nam. Blood ties and hierarchy meant nothing to him beyond their use as connections. No emotional attachment had ever grown between him and his family. They were names, roles, and assets. That was all.

Il-nam was the only one he had a memory of from childhood. And even then, it wasn’t a good one.

It was when he had taken in a stray puppy at ten years old. He had been alone, trapped in their home with no one to talk to but maids and attendants who only obeyed. The puppy was the first thing he had ever taken care of himself. He had provided everything, food, shelter, warmth, all of the highest quality. He had even cleaned it himself. It was the first time he had invested in something fragile, something he couldn’t control, couldn’t command. A creature he couldn’t even communicate with. But it was small, soft, warm. It was interesting. And for a short time, it gave him something close to happiness.

Just him and the pup, inside his room. A small company to his almost jailed life.

Then, of course, it didn’t last.

His uncle, Il-Nam, had seen the pup once, and its exposure was a threat to In-ho. It was a personal decision, one made without his father’s consent for once. He had been reckless lately, but he couldn’t risk losing his pet after saving it. It was his now, his property, his responsibility.

Il-nam had only glanced at him and the pup that day. He never mentioned it to his father. But he made one remark. And to In-ho, it felt like a curse.

"That poor thing will die soon. It’s not meant to be kept behind closed doors."

Threatened, In-ho kept the pup closer, watching it more carefully. But just a few days later, it weakened. It stopped moving as much. He called a vet, provided injections, vitamins, everything he could, even his own precious time. But it only got worse.

Then it started clawing at the door. Weakly. Desperately.

He remembered Il-nam’s words, how it shouldn’t be closed off. He hated the idea, but at the same time, a part of him felt there was truth in it. So, he carried the pup to the garden. It walked a little, then lay down on the grass, breathing easier under the sun’s warmth. In-ho took it as hope. The garden was still his space, still safe. If it could have freedom here, it would be fine.

For the next few days, he let it walk on its own. Let it wander. The door to his room remained open for it.

Until one day, it didn’t come back. Two days passed. On the third, he caught the scent. The stench led him behind one of the bushes.

There it was. Cold. Lifeless. Far from him.

If only he hadn’t let it go. If only it hadn’t been lost for two days, maybe he could’ve saved it. Maybe he could have fixed it. It was better inside, where it was safe. Within his reach.

Instead… it was his fault. His incompetence. His mistake. His decision to allow freedom.

He had stayed behind closed doors his whole life. He was still here. Alive. Surviving.

So why couldn’t it?

So, he learned.

…

The subtle clinking of cutlery against porcelain filled the heavy silence, the only sound in the vast dining hall. Seated at opposite ends of the table, neither man spared the other a glance.

“So… that employee of yours, Seong Gi-hun. He seems special. Too special.”

Il-nam’s words made In-ho pause mid-motion. His grip on the utensil tightened slightly as he turned his gaze toward the old man, only to be met with a small, knowing grin as Il-nam continued slicing into his meal, unbothered.

Without a word, In-ho withdrew, resuming his dinner with the same stoic indifference. No sigh, no shift in expression, just silence.

“I won’t interfere further,” Il-nam continued smoothly, his tone laced with something almost amused. “You’ve earned more credibility than anyone in the family. But as an elder, I must step in when I sense disorder.” He set his knife down gently, voice turning eerily deliberate. “Just a small reminder, dear In-ho  you have a bad habit of placing people where you see fit. If he were merely an employee, we wouldn’t even be speaking about him. But if he was just cloaked with some ID and suit, playing fake employee for your entertainment…” He scoffed. “Then you’d better decide what to do with him. We can’t afford another crash like your last public complication, served up on a silver platter for the media to devour, with no saving grace left to pull you out.”

Il-nam placed his utensils neatly on the table and finally turned to face his nephew, who remained unmoved, still focused on his plate. Taking a slow sip of water, Il-nam held the glass aloft, tilting it just slightly, inside, In-ho’s reflection fractured into warped, broken pieces.

“He’s… some kind of pet to you, isn’t he?”

The subtle flinch was enough.

Il-Nam saw the way In-ho stilled, the way his grip slackened just slightly. His nephew’s reflection stared back at him from the glass, unreadable but present.

“I can see why,” Il-nam mused, setting the glass down. “He has the charms of one. Big eyes. A little rough around the edges. Innocence. Purity. So easy to read, so easy to control. So painfully simple… to the point of idiocy.”

Another sip, another calculated pause.

“He’s anything but a threat. Must have made him a safe place for you, rather… a safe warmth that you’re too comfortable with. Enough for you to take down your walls and keep him?”

Then, a quiet laugh. Almost fond, almost cruel.

“But then again, being anything for a man like you… is a threat in itself, In-ho.”

“Anything can be everything… but then again, it can always remain just a thing. A thing to obsess over, a thing to possess, a thing to own. A mere thing you toy with, temporarily love. Nonetheless, it will remain just that—a thing, because you make it to be. Chose it to be.”

Il-nam dabbed at his mouth with the napkin, his gaze steady but sharp as he spoke.

"Just be careful, In-ho. Your plaything is no longer just a pup. You can't cradle it in your hands to push it to return, nor can you cage it completely and take its freewill."

They ended dinner with In-ho never saying anything more than a simple thanks. As he walked out in silence, his mind was already beginning to blur, erasing every trace of their conversation. None of it mattered. His uncle’s last words, just like before, clung to him like a curse.

But this time, he knew.

This time, he disagreed.

….

Gi-hun was slowly being pulled away from him by the crowd. In-ho remained composed on the outside, calm and collected, but inside, a part of him was being torn apart. The way the world moved around him, the way he and Gi-hun seemed to be drifting apart, it hurt him deeply. No matter how perfect he appeared, he only had one body, and Gi-hun had completely slipped out of his sight, while In-ho continued with his bitter, worked-centered persona he was forced to mask up.

Finally, when he had a moment to pause from eyeing everyone around him, he immediately searched for Gi-hun. He found him standing alone, a distance away. His hands were pressed to his eyes, and it was clear that tears had formed. The realization hit him like a gut punch. Tears. They were for him. For being apart. In-ho smiled, pretending not to notice, but inside, he was gloriously moved by the pain his pet had devoted to him. The longing is mutual.

It was an assurance, a gratification. Those tears could carry him forward, knowing that the physical distance between them would only make their connection burn enough for the night. He left the room and continued on, counting the seconds until everything would end, and they could go home together. But it was a mistake. Gi-hun's small freedom had become something that would tip In-ho inside out

Nearly two hours had passed, and he had spent most of it with important people. He ended up in a private upper room, drinking wine, and looking down on the people below him. The place where he had left Gi-hun. The thought of him weighed heavily on In-ho’s mind.

As the last visitor left, In-ho pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache creeping in. He stared at the ceiling, the dim gold light contrasting with the bright scene below. He felt awful, his vision blurring. He still held his half-full wine glass. Raising it to his lips, he drank the rest and sighed, the liquor's smell heavy on his breath. He didn’t get drunk easily, he was used to drinking a variety of liquors, but maybe it was just his age catching up with him. The lights around him blurred even more, and the pain in his head worsened. He was done for the night. He just needed a break for a minute, and he could stand up and give his farewells. But more than that, he needed Gi-hun there with him to ease his pain.

His gaze swept across the room below. There were still many people, and the sea of similar colors made it hard to find what he was looking for. His search became more frantic.

After a long search, he finally spotted him, but not in the way he expected. Gi-hun was mildly drunk but still standing. He had his hands on Gyeong-suk and was leaning comfortably against him, talking with the attendants at the food table. A group of employees and a table attendant surrounded them, all laughing.

The sight struck In-ho hard. His pet was happy, and content with others. The realization rang out inside him like a deafening alarm, and a foreign feeling began to swell in him, one he couldn’t understand. It was fear, an intense, overwhelming panic that made him feel out of control.

Then, Jun-hee and Myung-gi arrived. He saw how Gi-hun leaned on her offering closeness, them smiling, and she gently tucked his hair behind his ear, just like In-ho used to do. In-ho felt his stomach churn. His brain was going haywire, and he felt completely out of control. He hated it. No, he despised it. For Gi-hun to allow anyone else to be close to him… he couldn’t stand it.

A panic rose in him, and he felt like he was about to explode. He had to get Gi-hun back on his side. Right now.

"Get my attendant, Seong Gi-hun. Bring him to the VIP room," In-ho commanded, his voice cold.

The attendant scrambled, running off to find Seong Gi-hun, and within moments, a call was made. In-ho was beyond his control. The bitterness, the jealousy, he couldn’t suppress it. He didn’t care if he caused damage to inanimate objects or even people if it meant getting Gi-hun to him right now.

Gi-hun stood, fidgeting nervously, waiting for In-ho in the hall. As soon as their eyes met, Gi-hun’s worried look faded, his mouth falling open. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. A sense of menace hung in the air, all directed at him. He felt In-ho’s gaze on him, not just on his eyes, but on his whole body, examining him with a predatory gaze, as if sizing him up. It felt territorial, and Gi-hun couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being marked. He didn’t understand what was happening, but despite his overwhelming fear, he knew he needed to stay with In-ho. He had to help him.

"In-ho…" Gi-hun whispered, his voice shaky with panic.

In-ho’s grip on him tightened, his movements quick, sharp, dragging him toward his room. Gi-hun was scared, his whole-body trembling under In-ho’s hold. It was exactly that night he was trying to forget. The same force, the same desperation, but this time, it felt different. It was filled with resolve, with intent. And that was what made it so terrifying for Gi-hun.

When they reached In-ho’s bedroom, the silence between them was thick with tension. Gi-hun was concerned, but he had no idea what to do to calm In-ho down. Finally, In-ho released his grip, but Gi-hun flinched, as if bracing for something worse, his discomfort unacknowledged, swallowed.

"In-ho, what’s happening? Tell me, please…" Gi-hun tried to calm himself, but his voice cracked under the weight of fear.

In-ho stepped forward, and Gi-hun’s knees weakened, trembling. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and chilling, laced with something unspoken. The air between them grew thicker, each breath heavier than the last. In-ho’s gaze never wavered, holding Gi-hun in place with an invisible force.

In-ho raised a hand, grabbing Gi-hun’s tie and pulling it from under his collar. Gi-hun flinched at the sudden motion, but In-ho held it steady, fingers grazing below the knot. He paused, then began to gently caress it, his touch deliberate, sending a tremor through Gi-hun.

Gi-hun stood still, his breath caught in his throat, feeling the raw tension as In-ho's voice dropped to a low growl, each word simmering with something dangerous. “But I know this suit doesn’t belong to you. You shouldn’t be wearing this.”

Gi-hun's breath hitched, his panic overwhelming him, leaving him disoriented. He barely manage to ease himself when In-ho turned back and stepped away. The sound of rummaging filled the space, eerie and unsettling, as he moved through the desk. Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating, then pair of scissors appeared in his hand, the metallic click echoing in the quiet room.

"Don't move," In-ho said, his voice low and even, as though the threat was a simple fact. "I might cut you."

Gi-hun stood frozen, pale, his body stiff, as the sharp sound of scissors cutting through the air filled the room. He could feel the cold metal near his throat, and for a brief moment, it seemed like it could tear into him at any moment. But then, as his bangs and strands of hair fell around him, he stared at his hand, the strands now resting there.

Memories rushed back, In-ho tucking his hair behind his ear, playing with his bangs gently, even petting him. He thought In-ho liked it, that he cared. But now it felt like nothing more than a fleeting thought, and it pained him more than he could understand. It wasn't fear he felt anymore; it was sadness.

"Now strip," In-ho ordered, his tone cold and unyielding, expecting nothing less than immediate obedience.

Gi-hun looked at him, hurt evident on his face. He had always had an effect on In-ho in some way, had always been able to read him, to make him care. But not this time. This time, it felt different. He slowly removed his suit, unsure of what was happening. It felt like the suit was insulting In-ho, in a way he couldn’t even explain.

When he finished, he held the suit out to In-ho, the one he had been complimented on earlier that day. He couldn’t understand In-ho anymore—he was different. Not the In-ho he knew.

In-ho leaned in, his cold lips brushing Gi-hun's exposed ear.

"I meant everything, pet," he whispered, his voice dark, deep, and tempting.

Gi-hun’s heart pounded in his chest, and he backed away a step, eyes on the floor, cowering and shaking as he understood the intent. “But... that’s not part of the contract. I’m your pet, not... that.”

In-ho’s expression remained unreadable, his gaze heavy, unrelenting. “Bite me, then. If you mean to refuse me, do it now. Fight. Run.” His tone was flat, almost indifferent. “I suggest you take your chance, while I still allow it.”

A faint, hollow smile ghosted his lips, empty, meaningless, a lie wrapped in the illusion of choice. His gaze didn’t waver as he continued, “But trust me, I will drag you back, no matter where you go.”

Gi-hun’s voice quivered. “In-ho, you’re scaring me…”

In-ho’s gaze deepened, his voice now low and mocking, dripping with a cruel promise. “It’s too late for that now, pet. You had everyone else give you their warning, and yet you still let me put a collar on you.”

Gi-hun’s back slammed into the wall before he even realized what happened. His breath caught in his throat, and his mind screamed. No. No. No. This wasn’t In-ho. This wasn’t his In-ho.

In-ho’s hands were on him, pressing him into the cold, hard surface of the wall. His fingers dug into Gi-hun’s arms, just enough to trap him completely. He was trapped, unable to escape. The moment their eyes locked, it was over.

He could fight. He could shove In-ho off, throw a punch, run.

But that was a lie.

Because he wasn’t just pinned by In-ho’s body, he was pinned by him. By the weight of that hunger in In-ho’s eyes. It wrapped around him like something physical, thick, and intoxicating, like a wine seeping into his veins, suffocating and promising something more. His body trembled, every nerve screamed at him to get away, but some part of him, a terrifying part, didn’t move.

Because this was still In-ho.

In the end, it was still In-ho.

An In-ho Gi-hun didn’t know.

A side of him Gi-hun couldn’t abandon, nor choose between.

And In-ho needed him.

And Gi-hun needed In-ho just as much.

In-ho was too close now. His breath brushed Gi-hun’s lips, his scent, familiar and dizzying—surrounded him. Gi-hun’s hands shook at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. His body screamed for release, torn between fear and the urge to surrender.

“In-ho…” he whispered, voice cracking, trembling hands reaching for the hands that held him prisoner. His pulse raced, heat spreading through his body, and sweat gathered on his palms, making his grasp even shakier.

In-ho’s eyes flickered with something, sharp, desperate, before he moved.

And everything shattered.

Their lips crashed together, rough, demanding, stealing the air from Gi-hun’s lungs. A gasp slipped from him, but it was swallowed by In-ho’s kiss. Before he could think, before he could fight, he was sinking. Wanting. Lust clouded his thoughts, and, as always, he was an open book to In-ho. Every little detail of his submission, his need, read clearly in his eyes. It only made In-ho hunger for him more, knowing he had complete domination over him.

Gi-hun didn’t push him away. No. He clung to In-ho’s sleeves, pulling him closer. This wasn’t just need, this wasn’t just hunger.

It was desperation.

It was In-ho, clawing for something, someone to bring him back.

If Gi-hun could be that, if this was what In-ho needed, then he wouldn’t run. He couldn’t.

So he gave in.

His body melted into the touch, every ounce of tension shifting into something reckless, uncontrollable. Their bodies ignited, a fire burning between them despite the cold room. The heat of their touch melted away any remnants of logic, of sanity. The world outside no longer existed.

Gi-hun could barely follow what was happening to him. His body folded, exposed. It felt as though his soul was being torn from him with every touch, every movement. He was bare, completely vulnerable, but it felt right in In-ho’s hands. Every time In-ho was inside him, it felt like he was dying, only to be revived with every thrust, every touch.

Gi-hun’s nails dug into In-ho’s back, breaking the skin, but it only made In-ho more desperate, more alive. The pain in Gi-hun turned into something primal, and hot, urging him on.

The night swallowed them whole. Neither of them tried to stop it.

Chapter Text

Gi-Hun’s fingers flinched. His consciousness slowly began to lift from the heavy, deep sleep. He breathed in, feeling the cold air hit his face, his skin exposed, prickled by the room’s temperature. He felt uncomfortable, vulnerable. His eyes refused to open, but his body was gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. Part of his upper body, mainly his neck to chest, was no longer embraced by the thick blanket. His neck and throat ached, dry and sore, making every breath feel like a strain. Then, a taste surged. His tongue moved in his mouth, barely grazing the insides. A bitter, salty taste surged in his mouth, and he could feel his tongue slowly dragging across the roof, tasting remnants of last night. His throat ached with the dryness, as if his very body was rebelling against the intensity of the memory. He swallowed, the taste lingering like a ghost of something he couldn’t escape.

His eyes fluttered open. The ceiling, the crimson drapes, and the golden luxurious tassels hanging from velvet. He frowned. His gaze shifted to the far corner, where the window should have been. The curtain edges should have allowed a glimpse of light, a telltale sign of time passing. But instead, there was only a flat wall, pearl grey, with a column and the same red drapes, gold tassels hanging, marking the spot where their couch should have been. His frown deepened, and he turned sideways, eyes scratching his lids as he sought clarity. His hand swept through his hair--long hair that wasn’t there. But still, he reached for the top of his head, pressing his hand to his scalp, feeling the slow rise of reality creeping in. His hair, messy, tangled with sweat, strands sticking together, was just as disheveled as his mouth. Half-assed cut edges poked through the skin on his forehead.

Then, he felt a pull on those very strands, a memory, a hand dragging him back. As he arched, he looked up, seeing the same draperies above. His eyes watered, his mouth opened, a loud, echoing filling the room.

In-Ho.

Yes. That was the name he screamed. No, he moaned. Pleaded. That name alone carried every sinful need he begged for. Harder. Deeper. More. That name alone was repeatedly cried. And each time, it felt like an answered prayer to every thrust and pull In-Ho made, claiming his body as his.

Gi-Hun felt reality strike him like a wave, his heart racing, snapping him back to the present. The coldness of his body turned to heat, his gut twisting, reminding him of his lower body’s state. Panic gripped him. He placed his hands on his chest, trying to comfort himself, ease his breathing. Another shallow breath, another swallow, tastes of remnants now even more stinging. A taste not his. Not just his.

Salty. He could still taste the saltiness as he bit and clung to In-Ho’s neck, his mouth sucking on his sweaty skin as their bodies pressed together, aching for friction. Desperate for every moment—every freed kiss In-Ho allowed—made his thirst surge back, chasing whatever his mouth could land on and devour.

Then the bitterness, mingled with a faint sweetness, saltiness, and something acidic, combined with the intoxicating musky scent. Every pulse of In-Ho’s length against his tongue sent a shudder through him, the veins bulging under the pressure, making Gi-Hun’s own body tremble with each deepening thrust. It started from his sacks, pressing against his lips, reaching the core of his tongue. It bent slightly as the tip reached deep into his throat; his nose pressed to the curly tendrils of his pubes. He had no choice but to indulge in it, breathing him in as his fingers gripped In-Ho’s legs, struggling to stay steady amidst the chaotic movements pushing deeper into him. All of this while never breaking eye contact with his master. His master, in all his glory, stood over him, palms on the back of his head, angling him for a smoother entry.

In-Ho gasped, his chest heaving heavily as he struggled to find his own pace. His movements were wild, erratic—greedy hips demanding more than his body could keep up with. The barely filtered, rough gasps in his voice matched the hunger in his movements, wildness roaring clear, adding new depth to the overwhelming fleshly desire between them.

Now, with both hands, In-Ho gripped his pet's hair tighter, pulling him closer, desperation leaking into every movement. The equally heated, moist mouth and his member coiled in pleasure. It made him moan, a deep, guttural sound that traveled from the mouth below to his own, grunting with each motion as the tension built.

His pace became unstable, inconsistent, angling deeper, hitting that pleasured spot, growing more sensitive with every thrust. He cursed, his voice rasping with profanity, teeth gritting in time with Gi-Hun’s muffled, sultry sounds. Gi-Hun’s trembling hand occupied his own wet length, stroking in rhythm, also nearing his own climax. Slick, obscene sounds mixed with the creaking mattress beneath, all echoing obscenities through the room.

Then In-Ho stopped, delivering one final blow. Gi-Hun’s mouth pressed tightly, lips locked around the hardness, not letting go. In-Ho released, filling Gi-Hun’s throat. He could feel himself pulsating against the tight, warm muscles, contracting as his pet gagged and swallowed. The sight earned him a heavily breathing smirk from In-Ho. Slowly, In-Ho’s clawed fingers released, turning into gentle pets, nuzzling him as his gaze lowered, his praise just a gasp but heavy.

“Good boy.”

It was then that In-Ho pulled out, his seed still leaking from the sensitive tip, while Gi-Hun's hands moved to his own, stroking and squeezing one last time. Thumbs pressing against his tip, his hips jerked, releasing with a final thrust before spilling onto the mattress. In-Ho’s hand gently held his head, keeping him steady, his gaze fixed on Gi-Hun as he arched, eyes flickering in a daze at the draperies above. His body twitched involuntarily as he continued to ride out his release.

Fingers between his teeth, Gi-hun snapped awake for the second time, his mind slowly pulling him back to the fragments of memories from last night. Yes that is just one fragment. His own fingers somehow found their way to his mouth as his memory untangled, the edge of his lips wet, slick with saliva slipping out, warmth trailing down his cheek to the blanket.

No.

No. No.

His brain screamed at him, desperately clawing for control, trying to silence the relentless pull of memory. He couldn’t let it consume him.
He gently returned to lying on his back, his hands clutching the blanket, pulling it slightly to his sides, but it was heavy and still. Now flat against the mattress, reality was inevitable. There were so many things he had to account for before even breathing.

First, his body ached. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact source, but it was sore, the pain so sharp he feared he could barely sit without feeling a surge of it if he ever moved. Every movement sent sharp stabs of discomfort through him, as if his muscles and skin were both rebelling against the way they had been treated last night. His hand slowly reached down, feeling the weight in his inner thigh, the swelling, the strained muscles that had been overstretched in ways they never had been before, that, he was sure it’ll be a killer to walk with. As for other parts of his body that he was really concerned about, parts that had taken the brunt of In-ho’s doings, it was his lower body and his spine. He couldn’t yet gauge how much damage had been done or how much pain he would feel but it will.
Second, the blanket couldn’t be pulled over him because another body was using it to cover its own naked form, just an inch away from him. The warmth from it, despite not being in direct contact, was enough to make Gi-hun’s skin flush. In-ho lay there, half-covered, his chest rising and falling gently with each peaceful breath. His messy hair fell over his eyes as he slept on his side, facing Gi-hun. The light might have been off, but Gi-hun could clearly make out the marks on In-ho’s skin—bruises, claw marks, and bite marks. His.

Gi-hun immediately diverted his gaze back to the ceiling, closing his eyes. As much as he wanted to deny it, as much as he wanted to pretend it was a dream, it was all there, like signatures. His memory pulled him back to each moment.

Claw marks—As his body reached bliss, surpassing what his flesh could ever take, his nails dug into In-ho’s back like a soul’s anchor, leaving bleeding scratches that were likely to scar. Each time he clung to him, the pain deepened, and In-ho turned it into fuel, slamming him back down, dragging him back to their bed, to where he belonged, to him.

Bruises — In-ho maneuvered his body and took full control, teaching him pleasure in his flesh beyond his recognition. Every touch, every thrust pushed him to lose his sanity. In-ho taught him, in the most raw and intense way, what pleasure and pain could do when mixed together, when control was no longer a factor, when he fully gave in and let him possess him.

Sometimes it was too much for Gi-hun. Pinned between wall, mattress, floor, and In-ho. His body overstimulated, set ablaze and trembling with sensitivity, pushing him to new depths of pleasure with no escape. His knees and arms jerked reflexively, flailing without aim, his body overwhelmed and unintentionally leaving bruises on man above him. In-ho might not have flinched at the time, but he had taken equal damage. And even if accidental, those bruises would remain on him for some time that he owed In-ho an apology for that.

No.

Another reminder of his wandering thoughts.

Right. Third. Might be the most crucial part of this. He has morning wood. And neither the thin blanket nor his body flat on the bed, scared to flinch or move, could deny its existence as it mounted and made a tent—shaming him.

Gi-hun wanted to scream, to let the panic completely consume him. But instead, he took a deep breath, gathered what strength he had  left, cleared his mind, and clung to a single, desperate resolve. He cast one last glance at the man beside him, still sleeping soundly, undisturbed, before starting to lift one leg, preparing to move.

His face twisted in pain as a sharp jolt ran through his strained leg muscles, but even then, he pushed further. One hand, then the other, planted firmly on the bed to brace himself. One agonizing motion. He breathed in deep, shut his eyes, and focused. His mind was screaming, buzzing with adrenaline, pushing him on. Go. Go. Go.

He rose. Now sitting, his back muscles ached in protest. Slowly, he peeled the blanket off his lower body. The cold air hit his bare skin like needles, making him flinch and stirring a wave of searing pain. But there was no more time to waste. It had to be now or never. He would rather crawl and drag himself out of bed than have In-ho see him like this.

He remembered last night all too clearly. His body still felt it, every mark, every ache. His mind and heart hadn’t caught up, both still reeling, parts of him still in denial. They had gone all the way. It was undeniable. He could still see it in his head: In-ho’s full weight on top of him. But maybe it was a mistake, like the time before, an encounter In-ho never mentioned afterward, something forgotten, moved past like a fleeting indulgence.

And maybe… maybe Gi-hun shouldn’t be here. Because when In-ho wakes up and acts like nothing happened, like he did before, Gi-hun’s very presence might just be another trigger. And maybe he’s already losing in whatever this is, with his feelings being pulled deeper into nothingness. Still, he'd probably do it all over again if In-ho needed him. Again and again, regardless of the cost to himself. Because it wasn’t just him owing him.

He loved In-ho.

Gi-hun had to admit it to himself. He loved In-ho. Not as his boss, not as his benefactor, not as his master, not even as a friend. Definitely not just a fuck buddy. He loved him. Loved him so much that he’d take whatever role In-ho gave him, employee, charity case, pet, friend, anything—just to stay close.

To feel love, to fall in love… It was something unimaginable for him just a month ago. And In-ho made it possible.

But love had to be set aside. In-ho needed him. That was enough. Helping him, staying by his side, being what In-ho wanted—that was how Gi-hun could show his love, even if it wasn’t reciprocated in way he longs for.

In-ho needs him

In-ho needs him

He pushed against the bed, dragging his aching body inch by inch. One wrong move and pain shot from his bottom up his spine. He looked down—his thighs were swollen, bruised. Some dark and small, shaped by In-ho’s mouth. Others larger, lighter, the imprint of hands that had held him down too hard.

He bit his lip, shook his head, and inched forward again.

“Pet?”

Gi-hun refused to look back or even acknowledge the voice unsure if it was reality or something haunting him.

“Pet… don’t you dare leave…” In-Ho’s voice was rough, dry and yet still commanding. He was waking up.

Gi-hun heard him shift, stretching, yawning. Then a leg slid under the blanket and hooked around his waist. In-Ho pulled him back, an arm wrapping over his shoulder. Before he could react, he was pinned again, both of them falling into the bed.

“Ah,” In-Ho muttered in amusement.

“Is this what you’re running away from?” he said, leaning close above Gi-hun’s hair. The leg he’d draped over him shifted, just enough for his knee to point out the obvious, his erection.

“Hm?”

Gi-hun flinched at the contact, his hips, his ears, but it was almost pointless. In-Ho’s arms around him kept him trapped.

In-Ho nuzzled his hair. His lips grazed the tip of Gi-hun’s ear, hot, warm, then wet. He started nibbling on the reddened tips as Gi-hun could only cling to his arms.

“I could take you as breakfast. Just say so,” In-Ho murmured, and returned to nibbling his ear, trailing to deep, heated kisses.

Before Gi-hun could protest, In-Ho’s mouth was back on his skin, trailing from ear to jaw, to neck. Wet kisses. Sucking. Desperate. His hands roamed down from shoulder to jaw, cupping his cheek, angling his face the way he wanted. His kisses deepened, pressing harder, more urgent. His mouth moved lower, and with every touch, Gi-hun stiffened, body caught between heat and hesitation.

When In-Ho finally pulled his face back up to meet his, he took a moment. Just a breath. Just enough time to admire Gi-hun’s expression, confused, flustered, eyes wide, lips parted, waiting. And that was all he needed.

He kissed him.

Gi-hun’s mouth was easily infiltrated. It was warm and slick. Equally thirsty, their tongues danced through both spaces, scoping, kneading, rolling with each other—familiarizing each breath, escaping only to pull their bodies a breath apart before diving back in, more eager, more desperate to satiate.

Then Gi-hun held onto In-Ho’s shoulder, steadying himself, syncing to the rhythm, his fingers slightly deepening their grip. Each squeeze was hesitant, tender, unsure, until the rhythm lured him in. In-Ho kept his eyes half-lidded, watching, seeing Gi-hun fully in his grasp, surrendering like last night. Maybe even his body hadn’t realized it yet, but as he held onto In-Ho’s shoulder, Gi-hun had started rolling his hips, his aching erection reaching for any part of In-Ho’s skin, just to catch a bit of contact to rub against.

As it reached In-Ho’s stomach, he could feel Gi-hun’s jaw snap slightly at the touch, his tip already dripping, making one smooth slide up In-Ho’s skin.

In-Ho pulled back, just enough to keep him from reaching and smirked at the hitched groan that stopped their mouths. Then his hands lowered, slipping under the blanket that barely covered them. Past his own legs, still locked around the other’s. Past legs now sweating, pressed like burger meat, hot, steaming, juices leaking.

Finally, he held it. Tight.

The air hitched. The only sound was breath, and the slow hiss of skin brushing skin.

He played his knuckles along it, pressing with varying weight, each finger bending against the aching cock, molding it in his palm. He knew its shape now, knew every tremble it made when teased just right. Gi-hun thrust up into the touch with a cry, mouth forced open by pleasure, hands pushing back against In-Ho’s shoulder.

They paused to breathe, both gasping, staring at each other, faces and bodies red with heat. In-Ho gave another teasing smile, and Gi-hun reacted immediately, using both hands and his body to move down, trying to push away the hand that was about to stroke again.

Gi-hun could feel his heart race as he moved, still clutching one of In-Ho’s hands, and looked up only to be met by a grimaced expression: hurt, disappointed. The sight pierced through him, and the eerie silence made it worse.

“Why?” In-Ho asked, withdrawing his hand and resting it on his own legs. He sighed, calming himself, waiting patiently for the answer. But there was a tension, like he’d been wronged, defied, and that only made it harder for Gi-hun to clear the mess in his head into words.

“You’re awake?” Gi-hun asked, barely audible, unsure even to himself.

There was a pause. In-Ho’s brows furrowed as he let the confusion sit. The nonsense. The implication.

“Would you really prefer to do it on your own? Or do you have a kink for jerking off to someone asleep? You’re confusing me, pet.”

Gi-hun’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Just a muffled, incoherent sound as he stared, wide-eyed, shy, and ashamed. Still, In-Ho remained confused.

“I wouldn’t mind being still,” he added, voice steady and honest. “You could grind on me at your own pace, your own pleasure, if that’ll help.”

“In-Ho… stop for a while, please… that’s not what I meant,” Gi-hun rushed out, hands creeping up to clasp against his chest, face flushed. “I’m just… worried. And confused,” he added, eyes falling as he thought of a memory.

“This feels like what happened weeks ago. That afternoon, I caused you and the company a problem. You got angry. Then you looked like you were breaking down, and I was desperate to bring you back to your senses… I ended up kissing you.” His voice softened. “You crashed after. Completely knocked out. You never brought it up. But then the next days… you slowly went back to normal. I thought maybe it was stress. Overwhelming. And I triggered it.”

He met In-Ho’s eyes again, concern and doubt mixed in his expression.

“I thought maybe last night was just the same… a one-time thing. Maybe a mistake. Like you were drunk. Or upset by those conglomerates you had to meet. Maybe you just needed a body. I don’t know…” His voice faltered, mumbling, emotional, as his thoughts spilled out.

His hands trembled slightly as he spoke, the words burning with hesitation and hope, like he was scared of setting off a mine. 

His eyes welled up as he waited for In-Ho to say something.

Instead, In-Ho began to move, sitting up, pulling the blanket off their bodies, tossing it aside. Then he crawled atop Gi-hun, both hands planted beside his shoulders, lower body pressing down, their lengths now aligned and touching.

The bed creaked sharply under the shift, breaking the stillness, but neither pulled away.

“I’ll answer everything,” he said, settling his weight on Gi-hun fully. “First—I don’t remember the exact moments from that week. It’s blurry. And painful to walk through. But if you really did bring me back to my senses with a kiss, then… I’m genuinely thankful. But I’m sorry, I really can’t remember it.”

Gi-hun looked back, hurt, but understanding.

“Now, about last night.”

Gi-hun inhaled, listening. His heart began to echo in his ears.

“I remember it. All of it. And it wasn’t a mistake.”

A pang hit Gi-hun’s chest. A different kind. Hopeful. A sting that bloomed and started to lift the weight inside him.

“As for the rest of your questions, the answer is no.” In-Ho’s arms bent, elbows lowering until their upper bodies brushed. “No,” he said again, before leaning down into the space below Gi-hun’s ear. Their bodies aligned, no gap left.

Gi-hun let out a shaky breath, feeling every inch of In-Ho pressed against him, the heat, the tension, the possession.

“No—this isn’t a one-time thing,” he whispered as he began to roll his hips, pressing just right, building friction that sparked heat again between them. A few smooth thrusts and he could already feel Gi-hun harden, the body beneath him heaving short, shallow breaths, chest rising in waves against him.

“Not that drunk,” In-Ho continued, voice rough. “Not pissed at anyone in particular.”

Then he let his body fall fully, hands slipping between them, reaching between the pressed heated body to grasp both of their cocks.

“But I do feel enraged… a fury I can’t pin on just one person.”

His movements quickened, chasing the edge, matching the already sensitive body below. Gi-hun gasped, moaned, one hand clutching the bed, the other wrapped around In-Ho’s neck for support, hips bucking uncontrollably.

“Then I realized....it’s you. Pet, it’s you. You’ve made everything a mess inside me.”

In-Ho’s thrusts got rougher. Slick with sweat, every push and pull felt too good, too greedy, too much for either of them to follow, drowned in pleasure. Every slap of skin was louder now, echoing in the quiet room. Every breath felt like it was shared.

“I’m jealous,” In-Ho grunted. “So fucking jealous I can’t take it,” he gasped, head pressed into Gi-hun’s neck, breathing him in while his hips and hand did all the work.

“Pet… you’re mine. Mine alone.” In-Ho’s words were returned with a whimpering cry, Gi-hun clinging tighter, mouth latching onto In-Ho’s neck trying to muffle moans each thrust but it all still echoed in the room.

“Mine.”

“Mine.”

“Mine.”

…

Days had passed with them intoxicated, exploring fleshly desires every day—multiple times a day, with no remorse, completely disregarding where, when, or even who might catch them, or who might already have.

Co-workers might catch a glimpse, lingering just a little too long with their gazes, but not one would bat an eye nor dare say a word, even when Gi-hun forgot to cover the bruises on his neck with makeup, or when a new one bloomed by their next break.

No one sees it, ike blind people, bound by a silent unbreakable law.

Only Myung-gi would lightly reprimand him about it, his words subtle yet unfiltered, saying he doesn’t care whether Gi-hun comes to work in tethered clothes or whatever mess they’re in, but he will hold Gi-hun responsible to at least make In-ho show up in meetings and look presentable, not just in clothes but in his own skin, not to be tainted, at least not in the public eye.

No one mattered in this period but the two of them.

In-ho was needy. And he wouldn’t accept a no. Whether it was in the comfort of their home, during their office breaks, in In-ho’s car on the way to a meeting, during Gi-hun’s working hours, or at his worst state-even while on a call, In-ho wouldn’t stop. And Gi-hun wouldn’t stop him.

Completely giving in, his brain too fuzzy and too high for more than a week straight to function, lost in pure bliss, all in the name of In-ho—he had let himself be claimed, possessed, and consumed.

…

In-ho leaned back in his chair, seated at his office room at home. It was past 1 a.m., and Gi-hun was sleeping soundly in their room, resting his body after another lovemaking.
He held a pile of papers, reading under the almost dim light, just a lampshade on. He had read it, edited it, and printed it multiple times, rechecking and adding more things to it even before this night. His eyes felt tired, exhausted, not just from the long days at work or from satisfying his pet and physical needs, but something more. Something heavier that this particular paper was holding his sanity for.

He scrunched his brow and pinched it, removing his reading glasses and letting the paper fall to the table.

It was Gi-hun’s official contract—as his pet.

Rules and regulations, all detailed. His allowance raised to almost six times his monthly salary, earning him more than anyone aside from the CEO himself. It also included the full payment of his debt, a too-good-to-be-true contract that in just two to three years could let him do whatever he pleased.

In-ho crouched down, both hands pressed against his face as he found himself alone again, heaving another shallow breath. He knew how to calm himself in situations like this, but even then, it didn’t help. This was more than physical pain, it was something deeper. Something he had no resolution for, only a certain plug to ease it a bit.

Owning Gi-hun. Owning him like a pet. Pet.

The word pinned itself into his brain, struck something that made his chest feel even worse than what he was already handling. Panic blooming. That word—pet—it brought too much. Too many feelings clashing inside. Overwhelming. Confusing. Hurting.

It was like being pulled both by his mind and his heart, aligned but never touching. Everything was screaming Seong Gi-hun. He needs him. He needs him to stay, no matter what. Whatever these other feelings were, the ones pulling him in the opposite direction, they were secondary. Let them exist in the shadows for now. For now, he just needs to breathe. To find his peace. And that peace was only possible if his needs were satisfied—if Gi-hun was owned.

He’d go as far as manipulating him if he had to. He knew his pet had developed attraction for him. And he did too, in time. But regardless of his own feelings, Gi-hun’s were something given. Vulnerable. Easy to hold onto. Easy to pull back into his room. Easy to make him stay.

Humans do have free will. And that’s what scares In-ho the most. He cannot allow the option of Gi-hun choosing to leave. Not now, not when he’s become as vital as the air he breathes. Not now. Not for now.

Even as he wrote the contract, every word felt like a sharp sting of poison being taken in slowly. But he had no other option. He was too desperate. He couldn’t rely on hope. He couldn’t give him freedom, not when freedom meant chance of losing him.

So, he’ll take the poison. Because it’s the only cure he knows. The only way to keep himself from losing what’s already become everything. His plug to ease his tethering sanity on the verge of breaking like never before.

Chapter Text

In-ho watched as the man crouched, thin legs spread sitting on his lap, leaning in hungrily. His tongue lapped at the edges of his jaw, while he scrambled unbuckling In-ho’s belt in frustration. The clink of the buckle coincided with the subtle rasp of their pants, as the man on top continued to grind. Sultry moans, unfiltered, echoed directly in In-ho's ear, growing louder as he neared his intent to unleash his feast like a rabid dog.

Once it was unzipped, it didn’t take seconds before a hand dipped inside. Grabbing the hardness, his two fingers reached to the bottom, clawing, feeling the weight and heat pulse beyond the boxer briefs. He had it dangling, lifting. On the edge of his fingertips, he savored the bulge of two soft pieces of flesh that would soon be in his mouth. His palm pressed against the manhood, compressed by the thin fabric, reaching its full length, even as it bent lightly, still surpassing his wrist.

He breathed a long, slow, deliberate inward gasp, almost like a sip, as he felt himself drool at what he held. His body trembled and twitched. Hunger growing. His face tilted toward the ceiling, eyes rolling back in bliss.

“Fuck…” he muttered, voice trembling, needing.

He started rubbing the length above the cotton spandex, kneading and palming in fast motions. Each finger digging in simultaneous waves, feeling it grows and harden more in his grasp. He moved faster and faster. He stopped everything and focused on this one job desperately. Only his breathing kept pace with his strokes remained, short and hurried. Body functioned instinctual— flesh aching on the edge as he prepared for his grand serving. Soon, he felt the tip soaking just below the waistband, a signal that made him gasp, enticed. Arousal had gone straight to his untouched cock to twitch, and his rim contracting on its own.

He looked up, head tilted, eyes wide like a puppy. His mouth hung open, but he never said a word. Some saliva dripped at the edge of his lips, along with sweat from his face, pooling from his forehead down to his neck and jaw. Drips landed onto In-ho's unbuttoned chest, all saying clearly what he pleaded.

In-ho understood. He circled his hand around his waist and guided him to stand from their old position at the edge of the bed. In one swoop, In-ho pulled down his pants along with his soaked boxers, freeing his aching cock. In-ho watched as the man in front of him took the sight in hunger, fully taking it in, his hand lightly digging deeper into In-ho’s skin as he holds on to his shoulder. His gaze never withdrew, too magnetize, too needy, too full of lust.

Then his knees fell. Kissing the floor. Crawling like a beggar—inching closer. His nose nudged at the length. Lowering further, he breathed in the skin and curls surrounding the manhood. He reached his aim, kneeling further, almost sitting down. He angled his face up, letting In-ho’s cock settle above his nose to his cheek, as his sack grazed his lips, brushing against them.

He breathed in, slowly, feeling himself lowly—dominated. His cheeks stained with the press of the tip on his face as his neck bobbed. He swallowed patiently, mouthwatering, but remained closed, waiting for the consent. As he opened his eyes, he looked up and in silence, he begged.

In-ho stared blankly for a moment. His hands landed on his head, fingers threading through his hair. Then his touch grew rough, like nails clawing. He gripped the locks tightly, angling the man's head toward the pull. Still, his face remained the same—lust-blown. He was probably feeling the pain and the tightness in his scalp as something arousing. The look irritated In-ho somehow. He huffed.

His hand gave another sharp tug to the man's hair before his body moved. His cock slid along the man’s face, his sack dangling and drawing upward as he pressed down from chin to nose. In-ho made it deliberately slow, pushing the man’s limits. Still, the man did not break. Though his lips trembled, gasping desperate warm breaths as each thrust of hardness and softness traveled, melting onto his lips, he retains obedience waiting for command.

In-ho’s irritation grew. But his body only made the frustration turn as ache of his manhood, flesh wanting fulfillment. His hips grew more quick motion. Hand that was in the locks of hair loosened and placed to his cheek, his thumb caressing and slightly wiping the sweat flowing.

“Open up,” he ordered.

…

Gihun was at his table again, facing another stack of papers that needed to be finished by the end of the day. It’s been a hell of a week now, with work in different departments piling up, and he’s been pulled in to help out—mostly just encoding, filing, and organizing, while being stuck in the office. Still, it was tons and tons of papers and folders, unending, and he could barely catch a breath these past days.

The only time he could finally relax and breathe real air was at home, with In-ho.

He gave a glance at his barely half-finished pile and sighed before pulling another paper to type. He shouldn’t be complaining, he’s not the only one suffering from this sudden spike in work. People have even said in the office chat that it’s actually a good sign, with investors and new projects all in progress. They just had to deal with it for now, and soon, maybe in a month, things would slow down and go back to normal. Then they’ll finally celebrate.

It just happened that during this period, a lot of workers were pulled out and occupied with their own jobs. Gi-hun wouldn’t even mind adjusting to help cover for the cut workforce, but if he counted, every single friend he was close to in the office, all had suddenly disappeared one by one. All busy and far. Still, he should be happy for them. Most were either advancing their careers or even up for promotions.

Old Geum-ja and the elder workers in the maintenance department were sent on a vacation trip for a whole week. Dae-ho was temporarily reposted while undergoing performance evaluation at another site, and would be gone for a month. Gyeong-suk was given leave since his child was granted for special treatment, his indefinite leave got approved. Hyung-sik was also now undergoing training under the security department, as per In-ho’s orders after the incident of intrusions weeks ago. Jung-bae, worst case, had only managed to call Gihun from the airport, already on a flight, after being chosen and dragged to assist his department manager at their newly built office in China.

Another sigh.

He pushed his keyboard and the piled papers to make space for his self, and then slumped forward, settling his head against the flat surface, deciding he needed the break.

Even Gayeong was on her field trip, so she couldn’t talk or even reply to him for a while. He even tried to connect with his friends at Sangwoo’s restaurant below, but it seemed they were also in the same situation—fully booked, too busy for even a moment or a single reply to check on him.

The only recent messages on his phone were from In-ho and Myunggi. And both only talked about schedules, reminders, and full work stuff. He could understand Myunggi, but In-ho himself felt so on edge lately. He seemed too focused, uninterrupted, overloaded with work. There were no pleasantries, no emotion in his messages. He rarely called now, too.

Still, in spite of all this chaos and In-ho’s own pile of work, he never once missed taking Gihun for a short quickie, a pleasure they indulge to break their office strain.

Whether it was just a short make-out session, blow jobs, hand jobs, or even going full out on the CEO’s office table with people about to walk in or a meeting due in a few minutes—it became imperative. A need. An everyday routine. The best part of Gi-hun’s day—he feels at ease to see and feel In-ho more real and raw even for short time.

In-ho always took care of him well, enough to finish and clean up any marks, that Gi-hun just gave in every time, no longer feeling any sense of remorse for what they were doing. It even developed into a certain kind of arousal for him—like time closing in, a pressure that pushed his body to move with the ticking clock. And In-ho, knowing this full well, would take his time holding him back from release. A painful and yet pleasurable feeling of being on edge. A point where he found himself in verses he knows In-ho will allow him a stroke to ease. Words and begging for another thrust, a drip of pleasure. Savoring before it burst. All prolonged and all dependent on In-ho’s decision.

Nails tracing the back of his neck. Gi-hun snapped back to his seat only to see In-ho already leaning on his side, smiling warmly at him.

“In-ho…” he uttered, as the light contact from his neck still lingered and lit his face to life.

“Skipping work, huh?” In-ho teased. “Must be convenient to have this whole office to yourself.”

“No… I… I’m just taking a short break,” Gi-hun stuttered. “Really,” he added.

In-ho only laughed—low and rumbling. Then he leaned in, holding the hand rest of Gi-hun’s swivel chair to have him face him.

Lips met. They kissed. Light, yet wet. Like an introduction. Their lips smacking, tasting the sweetness, as heat surged a little.

“I know,” In-ho pulled back to say. “You’re a good pet.”

The endearment, with praise, conditioned Gi-hun to connect it to intimacy and pleasure without even understanding it completely. But his body does. Like flip of switch, it turned him on.

“You’re good at following orders. My orders.”

Gi-hun’s body reacted to the trigger and submissively acted like it was natural to his system.

“Very… very good boy, you are, pet.” In-ho said before giving him more kisses, which Gi-hun obediently received, leaning in to meet each one.

“Really pretty… so obedient…” In-ho whispered.

He stopped as he placed a hand on Gi-hun’s cheek, gazing and gradually taking in the surrender in his pet’s look. Gi-hun was patient, even with his chest starting to heave in short breaths, and his eyes almost zoning out, urged to close and let his skin do the sensing. His body knew well enough, even on its verge, that pleasing In-ho compensates.

In-ho’s hand lowered, thumb pressed on the edge of his lips. He smirked. Satisfaction. He took another step u ntil their knees grazed. He then lightly pushed Gi-hun to his chair, with his own body following him. Their kisses reignited. One hand on the curved edge of the backrest for support and control, while the other on his pet’s chest, playing with his necktie.

 As the kiss deepened, the chair tilted further back to 120 degrees, as In-ho pushed in more. His hands followed—roaming, lowering, and reaching Gi-hun’s crotch. Fingers lightly trailing the firmness beneath. Then it slipped further down, grazing his inner thigh, pushing it to the side, prompting it to spread. Gi-hun followed, scooting a little from his seat without breaking the kiss as he spread his thighs apart. He then grabbed onto In-ho’s suit at his chest, anticipating what was coming next.

In-ho grinned. Gi-hun gasped.

A knee started to occupy the space he had opened. Then came the kneading. The chair seat stretched, and its wheels shifted with their movements, creaking. Gi-hun rolled to the touch—his body could barely maintain calm or stay seated.

“Shit…” In-ho muttered. He completely stopped and slowly stood, hands on the table, catching his breath. He gave a look at Gi-hun’s state—who never moved an inch from the position he had withdrawn from. He was still fully slumped down, lower half still spread, aching, head tilted to the side, barely with energy, and his eyes still high—barely recognizing. A mess. Beautiful mess.

“Sorry, pet,” In-ho said apologetically, composing himself, fixing his messed tie and suit. “Forgot I’m in an immediate meeting downstairs,” he explained as he pocketed his handkerchief and leaned once more to wipe the sweat off his pet and fix his chair.

“I really just went up here to give you lunch,” he added as he glanced at his own table with the paper bag completely forgotten.

“You… can manage that on your own, right?” In-ho softly asked, but a glint of tease was hidden in his voice.

A knock on the door.

In-ho leaned in and stole a kiss.

The door opened. Myunggi came in and stood just a step from the door. He had a folder and a paper in the other hand, his face occupied with the papers, reporting some issues and a reminder that the meeting room below was already set, and In-ho was being waited on.

In-ho listened, standing, while Gi-hun just slid his seat back to his table and pushed his face down, hiding in a pile of paperwork he had abandoned. In-ho’s hand crept in, landing and playing on his pet’s backhand as he played dead for a while, and he pretended to listen to the report.

As Myung-gi finished, he finally looked up, made a silent gesture of ending the report, and waited for any further instruction from his boss. A nod was all he received before Myunggi started stepping out.

Gi-hun barely moved. His head only shifted enough to peer back at In-ho, who was already looking down on him in amusement.

“Well, pet, your master is needed,” was all he said, lips forming another apology. “Just make sure you take a break to eat—and deal with your needs, if necessary,” he teased giving him one last pat in his head, and then started moving, stepping away, not waiting for an answer.

As he reached the door, he paused. Just standing there, holding the door but not opening it. He turned back.

“I have something to talk with you tonight, Gi-hun,” In-ho said, tone plain and clear.

The use of his actual name in private was unusual. It hit a mild concern in Gi-hun, and he seated himself properly to look at him again.

There was silence between them. A look both of them waiting for something, for one of them to say anything. A question, a further explanation, or whatever words they could fill in or hold onto. Just not this sudden, eerie emptiness that felt wrong.

Nonetheless, neither said anything, and In-ho left.

…

Fingers spread on the edge of his cheek, some resting near his mouth like a loose cover, as his face leaned against his own hand, eyes gazing at the other hand holding his phone, swiping across the screen.

He barely spared a glance or listened to the people around him—reporting and conversing in this so-called meeting he personally scheduled. He let them continue rambling about the menial things he had already noted for them to take care of and settle, while he focused more on his phone, scrolling down.

Multiple unread messages and missed calls from his friend Hyun-ju filled the screen. Most dated back to almost three weeks ago, after the article was published that caused haywire to his entire company and life. But it didn’t stop there. A few more messages and continued missed calls kept reaching him even up until today. Almost every other day that he already considered temporarily blocking his only friend.

Interestingly, Jun-ho, his brother, had also randomly sent a message on the same date as Hyun-ju’s wave of unanswered calls. It remained unread too, for the same reason In-ho refused to open Hyun-ju’s messages. They were both likely checking in on him and digging into his situation with the man in the article—his pet. Then they'd want more details, followed by calling out his actions and decisions. They might even berate him if they found out everything he was doing. Their concern was real, yes, but they wouldn’t understand the depth of his actions, or how much his sanity depended on it.

So, he didn’t open any of it. He wouldn’t let anything disrupt the plans already unfolding.

Documents were slid in front of him—call back from present. He took them, pretended to care, but set them down just as quickly. The conversation continued in the background, along with his thoughts surfacing and flowing.

Everything was planned out. From the very night he had conceded to his restraint and claimed his pet, it was decided—Seong Gi-hun would be owned. He would make him sign the contract no matter what means he needed to take. He would manipulate him. He would break him. If it was the only way to assure, he would stay.

First, his body. Intimacy. This would be the pivotal key point to reach his end. He made his body engraved on him, not just in bare skin, but in the very flesh of his insides, the very fiber of his soul. He made him submit, made his body given possession to him. He made it a routine, made Gi-hun thirst for it like he needed water—unendingly, returning, and necessity. Then the overtake—the control. Too high in bliss, too vulnerable and desperate, he would hold on to his pet’s release, ingraining it would be solely fulfilled through his authority. Whether it was in In-ho’s words, his movements, in simply how skin pressed or how deep he was—Gi-hun needed permission for his own body. It was indirectly taught, but his pet learned fast, his body engraved with the teachings and acted on it until everything became natural to him. The begging, the pleading, the words he repeats that pleased In-ho would grant reward. Let his body feel good. Allow one chain to loosen from his impending but dependent pleasure threading his sanity.

Then the misstep, even small slips, if In-ho forbade it, it was defiance. It would be punished. Hurt him, get rough with him. Not in the good way his pet ached for, but the real ones. Those that stings, with aftermath pain that would stay.

The easiest way to discipline his pet was to stop completely and let him suffer his own mistake. His pet would get feral over it. Disappointment, desperation as he tried to reach back for friction on his own—but failed. Then followed the apology and the cry out.

Obedience fulfills; defiance is suffering.

That alone set the stage, but it was never enough. Gi-hun had to be pushed further, to his limits, to ensure his downfall was inevitable.

There must never be any obstruction to any of this. There must not be one relief he could turn to, or a place he could be at ease—nothing, not even In-ho his self. Or at least not the version of him that Gi-hun could run to. So he started being avoidant. Started being emotionless, lessening interaction and communication. Only when he made love to him did he allow himself to feel and be the In-ho Gi-hun knew and wanted. He made him see that sex equals comfort—their breather from a suffocating life.

Again.

 Again, not enough. His pet needed to be empty. Empty enough that his own mind would echo in silence and let what In-ho planted in him dig in his brain. Something that brought satisfaction be maddeningly repeated solely filled his thoughts.

In-ho started pulling every single person close to his Gi-hun out of the way. His power in full glory, bypassing virtue and ethics. Placing people where they couldn’t disrupt his plans or his pet. Mostly his workers, some outsiders he’d come across, and even his kid and ex-wife—all cleared. Then not even meager commoners or random people remained. He put his pet on fake demand of piled-up work. Disconnected people from his phone, from his reach, and trapped him in silence, with overbearing tasks, alone in his office. Not even a break outside, as he was provided the basics to survive a day in there.

Only In-ho would visit him, like a prisoner, and provide the sole moment that soothed Gi-hun from the unknown pressure he never realized consuming him—through sex.

Everyday. In a loop, relentlessly.

His final nudge was what he did a while ago, leaving his pet at the edge, too close, but not enough for him to finish on his own. It may subside and won’t be the tilt he aims for, but it was enough to stir him more and keep him occupied in his last moment before the final breaking point—the contract.

“Sir…” Myunggi interrupted his thoughts. “We’re finishing up here. I’ll prepare the minutes and summary of things for your approval before implementation,” he explained. “You may head on, sir.”

In-ho took a slow glance at the meeting room, his employees all waiting, eyeing him with subtle concern but still within the professional boundaries of silence. He peeked at his phone and saw an hour had already passed. It slipped by so fast. He took his papers and silently went out.

He must deal with Gi-hun. Claim his life back. This is getting worse than it should be. He might lose everything he’s built all his life if this continues. He will lose himself over a pet—and still, he would be unremorseful even if everything went down, so long as he gets his hands on Seong Gi-hun.

Tonight.

Tonight, it is.

Break for me, my pet.

You can endure a little suffering, right?

You’ve been through so much.

But this pain will be worth it—for it will allow you to be mine.

Be mine..

There were words, but they seemed to blur out multiple times as his pet’s mind refused to register them. He continuously forced himself to refocus as he held the three-page contract. His fingers trembled against it, and he had to put it down on his lap just to steady his hold.

In-ho remained quiet behind his table, giving him space and time. His presence and his silence didn’t help Gi-hun.

There were tons of urges and unprocessed emotions in Gi-hun’s body. All overwhelming. All demanding to come out at once. He seemed confused. He seemed to have a lot of questions. He seemed frustrated.
He seemed like he wanted to cry. He seemed like he wanted comfort and peace—from the very man who was also the reason for everything he was suffering from right now. But he could barely move, nor look back at In-ho. All of it remained trapped in his body, his face blank, no emotion breaking through.

Only In-ho’s voice filled the silence. All short, all reassuring words for his pet. White lies—to ease him, just a little.

“This is just for formalities, Gi-hun.”

“There won’t be much change, aside from the benefits you’ll receive.”

“I care for you. I want what’s best for you—for us.”

“This is for both our safety.”

“I would never push myself on you. You’re allowed to deny my needs and advances if you feel the need to.”

“I would never make you do things you don’t want.”

“You may take your time... and come back to me when you’re ready.”                

Lies. Lies. Lies.

Lies of option.

Lies of freedom.

You won’t, Gi-hun. You won’t.

The next two days passed with further distance and unsettling silence between them. In-ho gave him the space he promised, rather, cursed him with it. A complete shutdown of conversation, of any initiation of intimacy, and even the smallest gestures of comfort. Not a single touch, not even a glance, was spared.

In-ho busied himself with work. He loaded more onto Gi-hun as well. Tied him to his chair. He had barely any progress—a clear sign of him losing, crumbling in In-ho’s palm sooner or later.

By the fifth day, In-ho told him he’d be flying to Japan that afternoon for a week’s work. No pleasantries.
No comforting words. It felt like a report. Gi-hun nodded. And they parted.

Three more days passed. A full week since the contract—since their avoidance. Since then, Gi-hun began deteriorating physically, and slipping mentally.

On the fourth day, it was the day In-ho had been waiting for.

Gi-hun had overworked himself. No relief. No outlet. He reached his limit. And that night, he gave in—
To his body. To the longing he was scared to acknowledge.

In-ho opened and lit their bedroom.

There, on top of their bed—his pet, partially clothed, humping a pillow as he sat on it. A complete mess.
He gasped for air, biting his own shirt, hands gripping the pillow.

Shame in his eyes. All arousal flushed out—along with the color in his face.

In-ho, unfazed, just stared for a moment—let it sit between them. He was tired himself. And as sensual and dirty as his mutt was, pleasuring himself with In-ho’s own pillow, In-ho felt nothing. Nothing but responsibility to perform. Like a duty. A play to pretend.

“Don’t make me stop you now,” he said, uninterested, as he set his things on the table and slumped into the couch at the far end of the room, directly facing his pet’s display.

“I won’t touch you,” In-ho added, like a promise, but one meant to trigger.

The statement only deepened Gi-hun’s dissociation. He stayed there, unmoving. Withdrawn. The pillow slipped slightly from his hold.

“I’ll just wait here, pet. I’ll wait…” In-ho said, implying the weight of his intent.

Gi-hun flinched. That struck him even in his fogged-out state.

“You can say if my presence here is troubling, and I’ll leave,” In-ho offered again.

He was getting frustrated—too tired to react, too drained to push further. The silence from his pet was suffocating. It made him dizzy when it should’ve been the other way around.

“…Touch me.”

In-ho looked up to return his gaze, eyes narrowing in confusion as he stared at his pet, unsure if he had really heard it, or if it was just his delusions finally eating him alive.

“Touch me… I can’t…” Gi-hun repeated, his voice sounding like a dried-out cry for help.

They finally looked at each other after all that denial. It was soft. Hurt. Honest.

In-ho stared back. He felt it. But he couldn’t move. He shouldn’t move.

Not until—

“I’ll sign it.”

“I’ll sign your contract… of me being your pet.”

…

In-ho held the signed piece of paper contract in his hand. He should be happy, or relieved, or even empty as he hoped, but he doesn’t. He felt a heavy thing lodge unknown and undeniable settling inside his chest. It wasn’t physically painful, but it was getting out of hand.

Days and days have passed. He loosened his grip on Gi-hun. His friends are back and he’s free to be with them so long inside the premises or if he asked permission from In-ho, as per the ruling of their contract. Which he does. Obeys. He messaged In-ho. Informs beforehand. He was even noting ridiculous things from time to time as well. Like how he'd go lunch with Jung Bae. Jung Bae is just a friend. Jung Bae may be divorced, but he is straight. In-ho knows well the intent of this informing him. It is in their contract that he, as a pet, is prohibited from having any neither romantic nor sexual relationship during the period of the contract. They have a talk about it, and he explained Gi-hun doesn’t have to explain to every person he meets up with. It feels dumb. And mocking on some level, for In-ho knows well more than he should before Gi-hun could even make this mockery he’s making, or In-ho is just imagining.

Nonetheless, Gi-hun seems to slightly return to himself. To work to people except to In-ho. Or again, this might just be in In-ho’s mind sabotaging his own life after his win.

He planned to stop the strict schedule of their intimacy. It will also help with Gi-hun recovering from his withdrawal of being too much absorbed in their sex life, all in his doing. But before he could start, Gi-hun started initiating things on his own, would move on his own. He was sultry. More passionate than he was used to. He pleased In-ho more than before. Then he mentioned things like some sort of teasing foreplay.

"It’s my duty."

"I'm your pet."

"I'm to please my master…"

He says such words that left a bitter taste in In-ho’s mouth. He ordered him to stop that, and he followed it like law and never did it again.

Sometimes on their normal days, they sit on the couch and just let the day pass together. They would just lean in on each other and have In-ho pet his hair or just touch him, then lead to kissing or making out. It was the same, and yet In-ho would find too often Gi-hun’s small difference. How he leaned in and expected Gi-hun to kiss back only for it to pass a little too long and find him staring only, blankly, then awkwardly flustered, smiling, and apologizing how he zoned out or didn’t notice, but immediately kissed afterward. There were also instances where, mid-kiss, he’d find Gi-hun watching him back, but closed his eyes immediately, as though doubting himself if it really meant anything.

Even in their communication, it never returned to the way it was before. Gi-hun retained his life and work updates like a report during work—through messages—just enough that they had nothing to talk about at home or during their breaks. Even when In-ho approached him, Gi-hun would instantly start getting touchy with him, prodding intimacy between them. In-ho reprimanded him for this, telling him not to act out on his own—but it remained the same, just worded differently.

“You need me?”

“You want me?”

“Does my duty calls?”

“Want me kneeling?”

“Need me to work?”

“Should I strip?”

“Yes…master?”

His pet would ask him, implying nothing but sex like always.

And as always, In-ho gave in. He could feel the ill intent behind his pet’s words toward him, even if they were said in a soft, alluring tone. It still felt ungenuine. And his pet—no, Seong Gi-hun was toying with him behind his submission. So, he punished him. Played along with him. Got through each day and was rough on him. Hurt him intentionally while commending his compliance as his duty, as his pet.

Want him to break.

Want him crying out.

Real emotions.

Real pet.

His pet before.

Seong Gi-hun.

Want him back.

Even in pieces of broken man.

Give him back.

Need him.

And Gi-hun would cry out—but he only urged In-ho not to stop. Broken, and yet never breaking from the tied, leashed contract they put together.

In-ho found himself with this gaping hole in his chest, heavy and consuming, swallowing his life whole. If he could just stab himself and claw it out—whatever it was—he was nearing the point of literally doing it.

His pet… was no longer the pet he used to long for. Seong Gi-hun felt different. He felt far, despite the physicality they had been sharing. Even with the contract and the assurance that he would stay, closed within In-ho’s confines and fully his—it was not enough.

He needed him. Full control of him. Not this enigma at the core, stirring turmoil and madness inside him.

Seong Gi-hun. Everything was Seong Gi-hun.

Every unwarranted emotion that swirled and deepened within his being was because of Seong Gi-hun.

In-ho hadn’t worked the whole day, just sat alone in his office.

Gi-hun had been given leave and was taking the day to rest in bed, as he requested. In-ho even appointed a personal doctor to check on him.

He couldn’t even have the night with his pet to at least lay blame on his body and wreck him, to ease and release the building tension in his mind and flesh. He might do something really bad if he didn’t do something to relieve this. To his pet, to himself, to anyone, he didn’t care.

He started pulling out his phone, opening something he had long put behind him. Something he wished had stayed in the past—but he had to settle with this, especially given his pet’s physical condition, for which he was partly guilty.

He called an escort to relieve him.

They were to meet at his unit, a few floors below his penthouse—a room used and purposed solely for his needs, long unused since he had his pet.

The man he ordered was exactly as he remembered him. He never really stood out before, nor had any distinguishable traits from their past transactions. But really, no one ever did. Still, this time, he might do.

He had a lean body, firm, yet soft. A thin waist. Long, slender legs, very bendable, spreading nicely. His hair was long, with slightly wavy bangs that would be satisfying to grab and pull like an anchor to push and pull his body as In-ho thrust into him. He was a moaning bottom, and a top-tier roleplay kinky escort, according to his profile.

Regardless, his only purpose now was as a substitute. His body at least resembled his pet’s.

Maybe, at the very least, he could try to divert his body and mind with this.

“Open up,” he ordered.

The escort followed, obliging, lustily mouthing In-ho, taking the full length until it hit his throat. In-ho didn’t give him time to adjust as he began moving, rougher with each shove. He gripped his hair, one leg lifted and settled atop the bed’s edge as he tried to angle deeper into him.

The man below, on his knees, gagged, his voice strained in agony as he took every thrust. His body limped, having nothing but air to hold onto, as he wasn’t allowed to touch In-ho—to at least steady his stumbling frame, while his mouth was being used so roughly.

In-ho felt his climax building. He pulled out, grabbed the man still choking, gasping for air, by the shoulders, and dragged him mercilessly onto the bed.

In-ho couldn’t care in that moment. His body was overtaken by lust, and his mind let go. It was still flesh. Still warm. And it felt good on his skin. It still drew out his libido like nothing else, craving, wanting.

The man beneath In-ho clung to him, nipping at his shoulder and neck, leaving marks all over as In-ho pushed in, folding him in half and ramming into him. In-ho pulled his hair and made him face him as he kissed him, which was returned with the same hunger and intensity. The sound of their breath, of wet mouths crashing, filled the room. In-ho’s pace slowed to smoother thrusts, rolling into him as he took a moment to savor his pet’s mouth and upper body.

Pet…

Pet…

Gi-hun…

My Gi-hun…

His thoughts spiraled into the name he yearned for. From his mind to his body, then his lips—uttering it, moaning it out loud.

“Gi-hun…” he cried, as his hips picked up their punishing rhythm.

The man clinging could not care less about his employer’s personal issues. He remained silent and kept his mouth occupied, digging on In-ho’s shoulder as he was reaching his limit. He knew well enough that the lust filling him right now was for someone else. Therefore, he shouldn’t ruin anything that might distract the lubricating thoughts of the man above—like his own voice slipping and moaning back in a very different way they would have needed to hear.

He’s just here as a one-night relief. His body is used, and can take any man—in size, or even in how much roughness. But this particular customer pinned him in a very suffocating way. Gaze at him. Gaze through the man he assumed he was. And all he could make up from it was pure possession. A mix of love and desperation. An intent that doesn’t waver, like a matter of life depending on it. A repressed love that made his guts twist in fear, even being only an indirect recipient.

So, he withdrew and hid in his neck.

As In-ho pushed one last thrust in him, all the emotions he held, along with his voice, silenced all throughout the cried-out name of a stranger. He came soon after, biting on In-ho’s shoulder a little too deep. Not just swollen and marked but completely bled out.

The pain barely hurt In-ho, but he could feel a different kind of sting drip, and he knew it was from the bite mark. He hadn’t pulled out yet, still completely inside, as he collapsed onto the man below, who still twitched beneath him. Their naked bodies pressed together as the escort continued releasing, his cum filling up their stomachs.

As In-ho’s breath began to settle, his senses slowly started to clear. He felt good. His body relaxed after finishing. Then came the scent. He smelled blood—his own. Then the man below, heated, and exactly the way sweat, and after-sex should smell. But different. Different. A difference he could feel was already starting to go haywire inside him, as realization began to unravel messily in front of him.

No.

He raised himself up, as if expecting to see something else. But the man below was still weak, barely responsive.

No.

 He pulled out. Stood up. Started dressing—just his pants, barely zipped, not even buttoned. His white sleeves halfway done as he made his way to leave before his mind could even understand the panic that was setting in. He walked fast, heading straight for the top floor. His thoughts couldn’t catch up to what his body was doing or needing.

No. No. No.

He felt himself withdraw from the world. All that mattered was getting to the top. Everything would clear up once he got there.

As he reached his home, he immediately saw his pet on the couch, on his phone. In-ho came forward and leaned in for a kiss—a deep, feral, bruising one. His hand grabbed Gi-hun’s hand locking onto him tightly.

As much as Gi-hun tried to return the kiss—or even just let himself be devoured—it was still all too much. His mouth ached from the crash of it. His neck strained as In-ho pushed deeper and deeper, dragging them to slide down the couch.

He pushed at In-ho’s chest, but his free hand was pulled and gripped like the other one. In-ho didn’t stop. Gi-hun desperately tried to use his legs, to push him away. He kneed him but failed. His body weakened under the pressure pressing into him. His legs trembled. He stopped resisting.

As In-ho paused to catch a breath, Gi-hun took the chance to speak.

“You said--you’d—you’d  allow this night f’r—me to recover… it’s under o—” Gi-hun began to protest in words low and minced but stopped midway as he felt In-ho’s tears fall.

“Wash me…”

Gi-hun knew this face too well. It was the same one In-ho had during his first full breakdown. The panic attack he himself had forgotten. He was crying. Desperate. And yet his face showed animosity. His body trembled yet still forced Gi-hun down. Demanding. Overpowering. All of it conflicting in one single being.

Before he could even process In-ho’s state, or understand his words, he was already being dragged away and led to their bed, where In-ho pinned his lower body and started stripping on top of him. Gi-hun was still barely catching his breath, his heartbeat running off-beat with his breathing. He watched, letting things unfold like the usual mess—but In-ho’s words echoed, and his state was far worse.

As In-ho pulled off his shirt, only then did Gi-hun see a smudge on his shoulder. And as he completely peeled it away, Gi-hun just stared at it while In-ho dove down on him, kissing him as he undid the top buttons of his pajamas.

Gi-hun saw how new the marks were. Saw how they were still red. And smelled raw—blood.

Wash me.

The words repeated and now made sense to Gi-hun. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. He just stared at the ceiling as he let In-ho do whatever he wanted to his body, completely ignoring him.

Gi-hun never thought there was still a worse pain he could fall into since the moment he signed the contract. But here it was—another stab. He thought he had drained all his emotions, keeping himself safe by withdrawing emotionally and slowly accepting his position in In-ho’s life. But it was not enough. Staying and denying would not suffice, nor patch every pain In-ho would bring him.

One cried-out sob escaped.

Gi-hun immediately wrapped his arms firmly around In-ho and pressed his mouth shut against the man’s neck. Warmth flowed—burning and blurring his vision. Tears dropped uncontrollably, falling on In-ho’s skin, making him pause and try to get a better look. But Gi-hun kept himself close, refusing to let him see him in such a state, even if it was already undeniable. He wouldn’t let him. He would only get what he needed. What he wanted. What was under the contract.

“Don’t—stop. Please…” Gi-hun whispered. Begged. Cried. Still refusing to be seen.

In-ho was frustrated, but no matter how he pushed, Gi-hun’s body relentlessly kept its distance intact and close—like their whole relationship now. So close, and yet so far.

Defiance.
Defiance needs punishment, In-ho reminded himself.

So, he let him have this one disobedience—and made his body pay for it. He kept going. He kept ruining him.

It’s not like some tears would stop him. Not now, when his body and brain were teetering on the verge of collapse. He needed the disgusting scent out of him. Have his pet back inside him. Have his pain and moaned cries buried back into his ears. Let his heat and fluids overtake the remnants of a no one who made his skin crawl. Let the memory be erased by this very night, where Gi-hun cried out his name in pain.

Ah.

Yes, his pet was crying loud now—his name, repeatedly.

Was it because of how rough he was?

Was it how he forced himself?

Was it Gi-hun’s body still healing, and he ignored it?

Or was it…

It was. 

It was that, huh?

In-ho felt a surge of endorphins flow through him.

His pet was jealous.

He was in pain and crying for In-ho.

No.

In-ho smiled at the thought. Bliss bloomed inside him. His pet was in pain for him. His pet—vulnerable and raw—for him.

No!

So broken for him. He could feel it—his real pet. He could feel him back. He could finally feel him.

No!

He’s beautiful.

Gi-hun, his pet, so warm with tears. A crying mess in his arms—for him.

No. No. No.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

In-ho felt fury at the unacknowledged echo screaming inside his head.

He can’t stop. He won’t stop.

Every pain and emotion he had never felt before, all the fear of losing control—everything from good to bad, in such depth he had never stepped into—all were caused by Seong Gi-hun.

His pet’s crying would never suffice for the ruin he had made of him. He deserved the punishment. He needed to get down and act as his meager pet. He deserved it. He needed to settle in that position—in that brokenness to stay with him. And he will stay. He will make him.

The echo in his mind stopped. So did his movement. So did any sound that should have filled the room just moments ago.

His body was still sitting atop—but it had stopped moving.

Below him, his hands were on his pet’s neck, stealing the warmth of life he had loved ever since touching it.

Chapter Text

A gun pressed against his head.

Blank stares.

In-ho closed his eyes—accepting.

Gunshot echoed.

…

A knock. Then followed quickly by a group of people coming in. The doctor scanned the room and was immediately drawn to the unconscious man, covered in the bed. He started looking around more in the room and finally found what he was looking for—the caller—In-ho.

He was slumped on the floor, wearing only pants that were unbuttoned, and his upper part completely naked. In-ho's arms wrapped around his knees while both hands gripped tightly on his arms. He was curled in the corner of the room, as far as he could be. Still, his eyes were locked on the man lying on the bed, unblinking, peering. Even with the stranger's intrusion his attention never wavered. Not a single flinch, not a fraction of acknowledgement.

The medical team exchanged quiet, concerned looks, but quickly moved into action. The doctor and one nurse went straight to Gi-hun. Another nurse approached In-ho. She asked the usual questions, basic assessments of his condition, but still, his eyes didn’t leave Gi-hun.

"Just check on him," he said, barely above a whisper. The words felt numb and slow, as if his mouth were moving mechanically. The words uttered felt detached from his body—a reflection of something inside him crumbling, spilling out through his words, his tone, his priority.

Seeing how withdrawn he was, how his hands were clenched and his nails dug into the skin of his arms, clawing to ground himself or stop something worse nearing overflow—the nurse gave a few final reminders about the support and care he could seek any time. Then she quietly stepped away to join the others.

It didn't take long when the doctor took In-ho to another room and reported his assessment. Gi-hun was safe. Asleep. Aside from the obvious bruises and swollen parts all over his body, and a little heat buildup likely turning into sickness, there was nothing life-threatening they could find.

"Perhaps you have anything to add to our assessment while he’s asleep, before we wait for him to wake?" the doctor questioned casually, but it made In-ho pale. He was looking straight ahead, yet his gaze seemed to pass right through the doctor, never quite landing.

“If you know anything about what happened before he passed out?” his words slow and far more measured. “Or—if he's taking any medication or has any condition we should be aware of?" he explained, as he observed the man's unsettling reactions—each one seemingly triggered by his inquiry.

There was still no answer from In-ho. Instead, his hand dove up to pinch the bridge of his nose, followed by a forced breath out, almost too painful to hear even for a stranger.

"Just… just… don't leave Gi-hun. Make sure he's safe—breathing..." he stuttered, the words delivering a glimpse of his breaking state. Like even one small stir into the things he suppressed would tear him apart.

"I'm leaving..." In-ho finally said, starting hurried steps away so fast, only taking his shirt, that the doctor didn’t even get the chance to voice out In-ho's own far concerning state.

In-ho started driving. Away. Far. Anywhere—directionless. His gaze continued to skip, zoning out multiple times. His grip tightened around the steering wheel, trying to get a hold of the reality loosening in his senses.  Every time he returned to focus, his speed had gotten faster than before.

He wished that one of his blackouts would lead to a crash. To the darkness, to the cold, to consume him—but it never happened. Instead, he found himself drifting forward, afar from the man he left unconscious but safer, and messaging someone he'd been avoiding for a month now.

…

Hyun-ju held a Glock 17 handgun as she aimed at the silhouette target twenty yards away. She exhaled, her grip loosening just slightly, her hands growing calmer as her eyes narrowed. Rapid fire—three shots, all landing clean on the head of the target.

Her shoulders slowly relaxed as she stood straight, looking at her results. It didn’t bring the easiness she hoped for the way it used to. It felt like an impending doom loomed closer with every second In-ho hadn't yet appeared, dragging with him whatever trauma and regret he was still hiding and about to dump her.

One of their go-to places to hang out was this shooting range near her place. No, they didn’t come here to chill. This particular place was usually rented out—the whole place, by In-ho just for her, whenever either of them was on edge and needed to de-stress.

She, during her ongoing transition, after she'd left her past job as a sergeant in the military, still longed for this outlet as a way to refocus or to vent the tension in her body. It became a habit, a coping ritual, logical and sensible for someone like her.

But for In-ho it was not.

In-ho doesn’t hold a gun. Never even owned one. He never even attended the mandatory military service, thanks to his father’s influence. Still, it wasn’t just Hyun-ju who found this place a sanctuary.

In-ho, though he never once lifted a gun to fire, would still accompany and pushed her here during his own moments of gnawing headaches and stresses piling up. He would just sit there, drinking whiskey, watching her fire from afar.

When Hyun-ju lightly mentioned it to him, suggesting he should at least shoot a few rounds so they wouldn’t waste the full rental on her alone, In-ho still refused. The closest answer he gave was that for him, owning a gun felt too luxurious—too extravagant. Holding a gun is not for someone like him.

At first, she thought he just meant the obvious that In-ho shouldn’t have easy access to something so deadly. The probability to tap in the power of taking another person’s life and him capable of getting away with it—is the luxury. But it became clearer the more she watched him—how he sat there, letting the echo of each gunshot fill the air around him. It wasn’t about indulgence of violence. It was something else entirely. It was a strange kind of relief as each shot echoed and filled the silence. As In-ho let it filled him.

The gun wasn’t a weapon for him. It was a symbol of escape. A luxury he couldn’t afford even with the entire authority and money he owned. Each shot Hyun-ju fired must have been a temporary escape for him—even if only in his mind.

Withdrawing. Breaking. Losing—things he never had in his entire life. And yet, with one pull, he could gain it all. Be selfish. Just this once.

Maybe it was an excessive analysis on her part as a friend, but Hyunju couldn't help but be led to such an assumption. Even if In-ho himself never consciously realized it, the truth was still there, slipping through. Cracks unseen but inevitably existing.

The man entered. Hyun-ju felt her heart stop for a moment as she took in the person coming toward her. Her mouth slightly opened, trembling—then firmly pursed. She kept it shut. No words could escape, as her emotions struggled to process the sight approaching in complete silence, like the eye of a storm, ready to consume her whole.

In-ho walked with a dragging pace. Just watching him come closer, nearly collapsing but never stopping, made Hyun-ju feel nauseous and dizzy.

His shirt was half-buttoned. His chest was exposed, the buttons below not even aligned. One of his shoulders was stained—soaked, still dripping fresh blood. It started on his shoulder, partially scattering across one side of his shirt, just above his chest. It was as if his unbuttoned shirt was an entryway, letting him claw at whatever was inside in his shoulder.  Leaving blood clinging to his skin and dampening his shirt.

As he finally reached her, Hyun-ju could barely hold onto everything until In-ho took her hand that held the gun. His fingers and nails smudged with his own blood. He gripped her wrist, manipulating her grip so that the gun lined up with his chest.

Hyun-ju couldn’t feel her own hands. And neither could she sense the hand that barely set her grip. It was too weak, too cold. Yet, it still reached her, as if it were his final act—his last strength. All for this.

"Kill me," he murmured.

"I need you to kill me, Hyun-ju... Please..."

There was no sorrow in his words. No begging. Just complete exhaustion, resignation, emptiness.

Hyun-ju reflects—emotionless, calm. She gazes at her friend, trying to read him subtly, searching for any hint, even the smallest glimpse of betrayal in his words, all while she maintains her outer facade. But there was none. It was a face set with resolve, fixed on his goal.

She raised the gun, pointing it at In-ho’s head.

In-ho peacefully closes his eyes.

Then a gunshot.

It echoed through the room, ringing back and forth.

A clang. A few debris crumbled.

The camera behind In-ho, a few meters away, fell after the shot, and the wall it had been mounted to shattered. Pieces tumbled, filling the silence after the gunfire.

In-ho opened his eyes. Frustration and anger seethed.

A very good reaction, if Hyun-ju were to ask.

He was still there.

In-ho was salvageable.

She didn’t wait for words. Didn’t give him a reaction or a second of acknowledgment to fully process his discontent. She simply withdrew her gun, focused on the magazine, and loaded more bullets—precise and smooth. The metallic clink of the reload echoed between them, enough to silence In-ho for the time being.

"Hang on for a second..." she sighed, said slowly—her voice unnervingly calm, too composed.

As she finished, she casually pointed the gun back up at his head. A momentary pause—acknowledging each distance, each existence, the moment itself. Her gaze sharper now—focused and driven.

In-ho slowly closed his eyes again. But just before they fully shut, Hyun-ju’s hand withdrew and smacked the edge of his eyebrow with the handle of the gun.

In-ho staggered, crouching in pain as blood trickled from the corner of his eye. Everything kept spinning; he was disoriented. His head pounded, the pain still not fully registering. He hadn’t regained his balance before Hyun-ju gripped the top of his head, yanking him up by his hair, and slammed his face with the gun.

Quick. Violent.

The blows blurred together, his consciousness beginning to slip. He couldn’t even count the strikes—the edge of the gun smashed into him again, barely a second apart. Before he could react, before his body could even flinch, Hyun-ju drove her knee into his stomach, making him retch in pain and curl on the floor as he vomited.

Hyun-ju sighed as she looked down on him—still choking, coughing. His body was curved as he lay on the floor, spewing. Using her foot, Hyun-ju pushed one of his arms, forcing him to sprawl and land on his back to face her. Her foot settled on his arm to keep him still.

She watched as In-ho’s swollen, bloody face looked up—his eyes faltering to focus, not even catching that she was standing over him.

Hyun-ju grimaced at the sight below. Her doing.

She let a shaky breath out. Only then did she allow her act—her body—to loosen a little. She scoffed, eyes rolling as she looked away for a breather before returning her attention.

Not a single tear. Not a shred of remorse.

In-ho was in too deep. It frustrated Hyun-ju.

She heaved another sigh as she swept aside strands of her hair, now stained with sweat—and In-ho’s blood. Realizing what she’d already done, though it was too late, she wiped her hand on her shirt with a sharp exhale, then looked back down in unfiltered displeasure.

She sank into a squat.

“Hey.” She slapped his cheek—twice.

 Quick. Sharp just to sting.

She reached out to wipe aside the sweat strands of hair sticking to In-ho’s forehead. Black-polished nails grazing his skin. Then, swiftly, she grabbed a handful and pulled his head up—eyes hers.

“Wake up, shithead. Look at me.” Her voice rasped, hoarse—teeth gritted, holding herself back.

Still nothing. His eyes remained blank, lost in empty space.

“Want this? This fucking gun?” Voice was guttural, cracking from outrage. A distorted smirk formed at her lips as she held the weapon up.

That finally caught his attention. His eyes followed the gun like it mattered more than anything else.

She scoffed.

“You stupid fucking shit, In-ho!” she snapped, voice breaking.

“You went out of your way just to meet me—what, so I could be your personal hitman?”

Her free hand shot out, gripping his collar, dragging him up just to slam him back down against the cold floor.

A bitter laugh slipped out—dry, hollow.

“Was our friendship just a convenience for you? Am I just a goddamn gunholder for you?”

Her chest rose and fell, ragged.

She dropped the gun. Let her fists speak instead.

Each word punctuated with a bruising blow.

“Why not just jump off that fucking building of yours and splatter yourself across the pavement like the perfect little tragic scene you’ve always lived?”

She mocked and paused, breath catching in her throat—then drove her fist into his cheek again.

“Or better yet, get in your fucking car and go straight into a wall—or a cliff. Make it cinematic.”

Her voice cracked. Eyes stung.

“Why did you think it was okay to do this? Here? With me?” Her hands trembled.

“The fuck do you think I’d go along with this bullshitery?” she panted, lungs hitching as emotions surged.

Still, her fists didn’t stop. Not until half his face was almost unrecognizable—skin swollen, split wide in places. Blood welled up from fresh ruptures, streaming down his neck, soaking into the floor—and her hands.

Even then—body limp, eyes barely focused—In-ho’s hand twitched, reaching toward the gun.

She didn’t rush. Just caught his fingers mid-reach—gently, almost mockingly. Then, slowly, she began breaking the joint of his thumb and index finger to immobilize his grip.

One by one. Snapping them.

Each crack met with a scream. Each scream a thread unraveling.

He writhed, arched from the pain—until she grabbed his other hand. This time, she picked up the gun herself. And gave it to him. His bloodied hand trembled as it closed around the grip. His hands were too weak. Too shaky.

She wrapped her hand around his, guided his fingers into position—and pulled the trigger.

The gun fired. A shot into the wall.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Each shot like a second of a ticking bomb.

In-ho’s face twisted, panic setting in. Reality dawning. Too vivid. Too raw.

His mouth opened to speak—but all that came out were sobs, dry and broken.

“No. No... no…”

His voice cracked under the weight of it all, tears spilling freely as Hyun-ju kept firing.

Then—click.

The last bullet. Gone.

…

The last shot fired.

Echoed—hauntingly slow. Long. Stretching. Dissipating—cutting the final thread of his patched-up cope to escape reality.

His sanity snapped.

Reality distorted—instant, gnawing. Inside and out. His body folded in on itself. Crumbling. A total collapse. His head hit the floor. A thud. A loss.

And suddenly—his body wasn’t his. His skin crawled over him—not him. Not his. Foreign. Taking over. Cold—hot—numb—everything all at once. Alien. Like a million needles grazing, not piercing. Threatening. Almost killing. But lingering—staying—toying—mocking. His skin fully betraying.

Then the floor. It moved—started breathing along with the walls. Waves beneath him. Surging. Huge. Vast. Rising to swallow him whole.

It wasn’t just his body that felt it. Even his blurred, tear-soaked eyes saw the world bend and distort.

And now it is alive just to eat him.

His heart pounded. Hammering—it is ready to break through its own ribcage just to escape the nightmare unfolding.

No. No. No. No. No.

Help—

No. No. No. No. No.

Please. Help.

No—

He screamed. Or his mind did—but nothing left his mouth. Or maybe his ears were too full—deafened by haunting sound waves clashing.

His heart was beating him. His skin pulsed and moved. Bones snapped. Clenched.

His insides—his very own flesh—vibrated. All of it. Everything was awake. Spiraling. Fleeing. Making wave after wave of inhuman sounds, each trying to out-noise the other.

Not even outside screaming—all of it inside—in his head, plugged in his ears, covering him, drowning him.

Help—

End me—

Please—

Please—

Please…

I’m scared.

Help—

Help—

I don’t want to die—

No—

Just wanted to end—

He grappled blindly, disorderly, desperately, searching to grip onto something—but his own body betrayed him. All weak, cowering, disarray. All at once, screaming in their own way, in panic and dread.
Not a single sense stayed true. His sight blurred into the taste of fear. His touch crackled like sound. His hearing split in fragments—noise mixing with memory and fear. Everything twisting. Torturing.

To die, just one shot—it should’ve been easy. Fast. Done.
His body folded into itself on the cold floor. The warmth drained out. Gone. Left behind—now just ice—cold.

A chilling silence crawling under his skin. Sweat dripped—slow, trembling beads. Each drop like a razor’s kiss. Dragging. Drawing. Sharp lines across his arms, his neck, his spine. But it was like some death play, hanging on his skin, engulfing him inside—but never pushing that one stab to end it all.

Kill me—

Kill me—

No. please... just kill me—

Make it stop—

He gasped.

He tried.

Jaw locked. Muscles clenched so tight they refused to move. Frozen. Clamped shut. Only a sliver opened. A forced gap.

It wasn’t breath. It was a tremor. A quiver. Teeth crashed together. Grinding. Chattering. The tremors rode up into his skull, each snap a jolt—like bone about to splinter. A new note to add to the rattling death symphony in his head.

Still—he inhaled. Sharply. Mouth, nose, whatever would open. His whole face contorted, fighting for breath.

Gasping. Gasping. Gasping.

But it wasn’t enough. Still not enough.

Let me go—

 Just let me go—

Kill me—

Help me—

Not this—

please—

please—

Desperation clawed through him with nothing left, as every part of him had already surrendered—leaving his ragged breath hanging and in pain.

He pulled air like it was fire—burning, searing. Each inhale felt like broken glass.

His chest caved. Ribs screamed. The weight—crushing. Like something was on him. Pushing him down. Burying him. Alive.

A pressuring pain stung. Somewhere, it held down and stopped a portion of his tremors.

Pain—yes—

Pain, give me pain—

He felt it. A weighted anchor—deepening, staying somewhere.

It pressed down each of the strike of twitch, keeping his little bits of senses down and grounded.

Cut me open—

Let it hurt—

Anything—

Please—

Please—

Then—warmth. In between the boulder. Somewhere central. Near the ribcage—bruised inside by his heart ramming. Warmth. Close. Circling. Pressed to support. Connecting. Indirect teaching. A rhythm he’d forgotten as everything inside him surrendered to fear.

To breathe—not just engulf and take in, but out.

Breathe out.

He breathed out.

He breathed out. Choked out. Forced out the accumulated air. Minced—but letting go.

A line of flashes traveled in his head. They dropped, one after another, each radiating a little sense back into him. Like acid falling—zapping—spreading with each nudge, reigniting his nerves. Back. Awake. His.

He let go.

Let whatever came cover him.

Chapter Text

There was a crack. A very small crack and it was starting to pierce through the thick walls. Along with it came warmth and light.

Awakening.

Sharp and stinging. Again, and again.

It didn’t really bother In-ho. He felt numb as a whole, too numb to care about this menial physical feeling snapping at him. But it was there—relentless, and pulling his attention to focus.
Now the blank was blurring, forming structures. Colors. Depth. People.

Then followed echoes. All merely mumbles, like the voices of people underneath the water’s surface—slow and barely ever made sense. Like bubbles, they popped out when they reached him.

“Do you really have to go this far?”

A hit. A sting. Heat flashes.

“He came to me. He said I’m his therapist. I warned him—multiple fucking times.”

The light hurts. Noise hurts. Something hurts.

“I’m just reminding. I’m not his goddamn personal assassin.”

In-ho’s view was yanked away, out of center, by an outer force, making his vision even more disoriented.

“You’ve already beaten him to a pulp. And now look... he’s bleeding again!”

“He needs that. I even broke my nails for him. Just clean him up. What else do you think I called you for?”

A slap—as In-ho can finally register.

“Cause I’m his brother?”

A pause. An eerie stop.

A breather—even for In-ho, as he felt the sense of touch and pain returning clearly in his whole body.

“Brother by title,” she snorted. “You don’t even earn that—you—you don’t even call him your brother...”

That aches. An ache that bloomed inside—nothing like the prickling sensation he was feeling on the outside, but a wound, nonetheless. One In-ho had never tried to tap into.

“Still—”

“You don’t even know what he’d been through, nor what he gave up just to have your life...”

There. It hurts.

“I—well... I’m here now—”

“You’re always fucking late and useless...”

It felt like something swollen inside In-hos chest was finally unraveling—and him—left exposed. But again, better. A pain freed.

“I came as soon as you messaged me, and I also cleaned up your mess with the guard reporting to the police station after seeing you firing shots on their CCTV camera!?” A heavy sigh escaped, and a sarcastic tone followed. “Also, a step into this place and I find you dragging my brother like some massacre scene!?”

“Hush, hush. I’m busy...” she shrugged, changing the topic.

“Augh—k...”

Hyun-ju and Jun-ho turned directly at the barely audible groan. Only then did In-ho realize that the sound was his own.

His eyes fluttered. He felt his cheeks burning—one side painful and swollen, partially obstructing his right eye. He could also feel a hot trail on it—blood trickling. The other side just throbbed with a stinging pain.

“Brother,” Jun-ho muttered as he leaned forward, his voice now far clearer, and it made In-ho’s pupils focus on him. Jun-ho’s face showed concern, but there was a twinge of a smile pressed on his lips, seeing that In-ho acknowledged him.

“In-ho,” Hyun-ju called him, her voice lower, more controlled—commanding.

In-ho’s mouth parted as his gaze landed back to his front, seeing his friend. But soon, his eyes slowly drooped again, and no word left him.

“In-ho.” Hyun-ju repeated, her fingers pressing into his chin, dragging his attention back with force.

She then snapped her other fingers repeatedly near his ears to awaken him further.

There was a subtle twitch in his facial muscles as he listened to the sound. He was far more attentive now.

“Good. You’re back. You idiot,” Hyun-ju grumbled, ending with a sigh of relief.

She turned to Jun-ho, who immediately understood without further instruction. She let go of In-ho’s chin, followed by Jun-ho gently cleaning his face again. There was already a damp, blood-soaked cloth on the floor—it seemed In-ho had been cleaned up even while unconscious.

Hyun-ju had her palms pressed against In-ho’s chest. It wasn’t to push or subjugate—just enough weight, just enough pressure for warmth to seep into In-ho’s body. It grounded him. Brought him back into his own skin. It was the same warmth—steady, central, pulling him back when he’s in the middle of his panic.

So, it was Hyun-ju. The realization gave In-ho some comfort.

He breathed in, long and deep, until he could feel the waves of air flowing through him. His chest rose, expanding along with Hyun-ju’s palm. And as he breathed out, he could feel it, his insides moving along with him, alive and his. In-ho felt more like himself.

He was sweating profusely, but his body was now instinctively working as it should. Even better—his system felt like it was rebooting, calm. His mind was no longer fogged, though still too tired. Its function was focused solely on what his body needed now—to release all the tension it had been holding.

Hyun-ju never once looked away from him. Her gaze alone held him—making sure his consciousness didn’t slip away again. Once his breathing had fully settled, it was only then that she let go, both her palms and her gaze.

“Hands,” she ordered.

In-ho had to look at his own hand first before slowly lifting it and reaching it toward her. It felt sore, an ache mixed with numbness in the joint. Before he could fully remember its state from earlier, Hyun-ju held it. One hand was steady beneath to carry him, weak and drained, while the other pressed gently on his joints, unfolding his fingers and easing the stiffness. He could feel his grasp, the blood flow, everything moving better after. The joint was back to normal, as if the pain and dislocation that had caused him to spiral never happened.

“In-ho…” Hyun-ju started low, just enough to nudge him. “You can’t die on us. Neither I nor Jun-ho will allow you that option.”

There was no response. It was just a vacant look, not even a full acknowledgment to what she said. But the fact that he wasn’t zoning out anymore, that he wasn’t repulsed, that was already a good sign.

“We should go ahead and return him home so he can rest,” Jun-ho offered.

But the moment he said it, In-ho grabbed Jun-ho’s hand. His grip was sudden and tight enough to make Jun-ho flinch.

“I can’t—I can’t go back home…” In-ho’s voice came out trembling. “I might!—hurt him…I’ll hurt him—again.” His eyes widened, staring at his brother with a plea of broken words.

Jun-ho nodded. He gently covered his brother’s hand, offering quiet assurance. Only then did In-ho loosen his grip.

Jun-ho and Hyun-ju exchanged a concerned look.

Hyun-ju paused. Her brows creased before she spoke something that the youngest man caught.

“Are you referring to your penthouse? Or... the building as a whole?” she asked, slower now. “You still have spare units below, don’t you?” she clarified.

Her voice softened. “If the top floor isn’t an option... maybe we could stay in one of those. Jun-ho barely patched you up. We need your doctor.”
…

It was past 3 a.m. when they reached In-ho’s building. They stayed in one of his units on a lower floor—it had two bedrooms.
They let In-ho take one of the rooms so he could finally rest after cleaning him up and changing his clothes. They also made sure there was nothing in there that could be used for self-harm. They didn’t even need to discuss it—it was an unspoken instinct. Both of them quietly, subtly checked the space before leaving him to his peace.

When it was only the two of them, a silence filled with exhaustion in the midst of the ungodly hour, they both sat at the opposite edge of the couch. Jun-ho looked at her to finally question something he’s been meaning to ask since they left the arena.
“Why did you insist on still returning here, when my brother obviously has something—“ he paused. “Has someone—triggering him here?” he asked straightforwardly.

Hyun-ju, both palms on her face, scrubbed it, fingers spreading, pressing into her pressure points to ease the tension away.
“I have a gist of what’s happening, and my instinct tells me In-ho should be here—we should be here,” she exhaled softly. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but the final lead is also here, so I’ll check on that too.”

Jun-ho only nodded slowly, a quiet agreement.
Without resting herself, Hyun-ju forced herself to stand again and proceeded to her plans. She used the landline inside In-ho’s unit to call the building’s general manager. Meanwhile, Jun-ho stepped out into the hallway to take a personal call as well.

The manager, already familiar with her and recognizing the line from the owner’s unit, assumed the call and inquiry came directly from him. Hyun-ju barely needed to explain. She only mentioned ‘the doctor’, intending to schedule a check-up for In-ho the next day, but that one word rerouted her immediately to the doctor, who was already attending to someone.

Hyun-ju stood in the corner of the room, breathing deeply, taking it all in. Her body could barely keep still as the weight of it settled. She had an idea of the whole situation from the very beginning. She had even started piecing it all together on her own—but the doctor’s update felt like the final piece, snapping the full picture into place.

She had friends and connections inside In-ho’s company. One of them—Young-mi had provided her some information when In-ho completely shut both her and Jun-ho out. It was during that viral article that circulated—the one that was supposed to have subsided. But even after that, In-ho remained disconnected and unreachable.

The man in the article with the CEO was Seong Gi-hun—In-ho’s personal attendant. He originally applied for a maintenance job, but In-ho took a liking to him and hired him instead as his attendant. The man was naturally friendly, and for some reason, he had an effect on In-ho. That effect even shifted the mood of the entire workplace. Even if the changes in In-ho’s work were subtle, his favoring of this particular employee was far from discreet.

Because this Seong Gi-hun could make Hwang In-ho smile.
A real, genuine smile—the kind he’d wear even when Gi-hun was simply existing and busy working.

It would have been a nice, simple, one-sided point of view. Something harmless to observe—if only Hyun-ju didn’t also know the other part of the story—In-ho and his pet.
It was the same day Seong Gi-hun was hired that In-ho began mentioning owning a mysterious abandoned pet.

In their messages, he would ramble about this pet, how it brought out a depth of joy he’d never experienced before. She remembered the flood of messages—vague, giddy, full of joy. Walks with the pet. Jealousy over attention. The squid plush. She hadn’t questioned it enough.

She hadn’t been able to respond at the time. She was busy—caught up in work, while he continued with updates. She was simply amused and bewildered at the same time. But when she finally had time, that article hit. In-ho stopped replying. She never even thought to connect the timing. She had just been worried. But now everything had become clear.

The doctor’s update had come from the penthouse. He was attending to a man still unconscious—Seong Gi-hun.
Seong Gi-hun, the attendant—was In-ho’s pet.

Hyun-ju was still standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the wall, when Jun-ho returned and found her in such a state. He had a duffle bag on his shoulder and a paper bag held with both arms against his chest.
“Are you alright? You seem to really need a rest,” Jun-ho said as he stepped in and laid down his bag on the couch and the paper bag on the table. “You could have slept already and used the next room. I’m good with the couch, and I plan to check on my brother from time to time,” he added.

Hyun-ju only remained standing, with just a few movements but still stationary in her place. She swept her hair back, fingers threading on her scalp as her eyes closed, composing herself.
“Did you find something?” he asked softly. “I—I brought some food and drinks…while I wait for some of my necessities to get delivered. Sorry I’ve taken a while,” he said, eyeing her both curious and concerned.

She only heaved one heavy breath, then proceeded toward him and took one of the water bottles inside his paper bag. She opened it, took a drink, then slammed it on the table.
“Yes. I found exactly what I needed,” she said, eyes still frowning at the water bottle she held.
“And—?” Jun-ho questioned, prompting her to continue, but a period of silence and her pressed mouth was Hyun-ju’s only answer.
“Was it that bad?” he asked again with unnerving tone.
“I might need to talk to In-ho first,” she simply said. “We can start from that.”
“Okay,” he said simply and nodded. “And..thank you, Hyun-ju. Not just for today, but for everything—and for staying with my brother.”

She was caught off guard by the sudden sincerity, but nonetheless, she was able to give a weak smile in response.
“I’ll check on In-ho. You go ahead and take a rest,” Jun-ho said, proceeding to In-ho’s room.

…

It was a slow and late morning. The doctor came around 8 a.m. to examine In-ho. He rechecked and cleaned the wounds on In-ho’s cheek and shoulder, then replaced the dressings. He prescribed antibiotics and pain relievers and said he would personally return once a day to change them and apply ointment as scheduled.
Breakfast was quiet and empty for everyone. Though Hyun-ju had been awake since before 6 a.m., she was still too tired to get up and never left her bed. Sleep hadn’t returned—her mind was too occupied with everything yesterday.

Last night, she hadn’t even lain down yet when Jun-ho knocked on her door, not even five minutes past since they parted. As Jun-ho had said, he would check on his brother before resting. It's been almost an hour since they settled him in his room and expected him to have rested already. But instead, Jun-ho found him sitting, wide-eyed, staring at nothingness, not budging an inch. In-ho didn’t even register him entering, not even when he called his name out.

Jun-ho walked over and gently guided him to lie back down. In-ho didn’t resist. It seems he partially acknowledged Jun-ho’s presence when his hand landed on his shoulder. In-ho understood, and rather than speak or explain, too exhausted, he still just complied and shut his eyes. But Jun-ho was sure he never really slept. 

That was the tipping point for Hyun-ju. She knows things are inevitable. She knows it'll all still lead to this one option to move past things. And even if it is crucial, considering In-ho’s state, furthering such a temporary resolution, like withdrawing and hiding, is riskier and might worsen the situation. In-ho must face his fear. He had to face Seong Gi-hun even for one last time.

…

There was a knock. In-ho wasn’t even able to mouth a word but just stared at the door. Another knock. And another unresponsive reaction from him. By the third knock, Hyun-ju no longer waited and entered his room. She stared at him with a subtle relief as soon as their gazes met. In-ho understands it—his situation, it is dragging not just him but even for his friend and brother. He's causing them to worry—a burden.

Hyun-ju stepped closer and sat by the edge of the bed near his leg.  “Do you know what time it is?” she asked.

In-ho only looked downward and searched for the time below on his laptop, which was sitting in his lap. It was past 7:00 pm.  Even he was taken aback at the realization of the time passing without him noticing.

He didn’t eat after their late breakfast; he didn’t even take a bath. He just returned to his room and to his still-warm bed. By 1 pm, he had taken the handy laptop in his room and planned to at least make a list of reminders and orders for Myung-gi. Mainly just cancelations, rescheduling, and clearing up mess he has caused.  Around 3 pm, Jun-ho came in with a tea and some pastry he had left on the bedside table for him. He had taken one sip, and then completely left it cold along with his work—forgotten—not even a word typed. And now it is past 7.  

He closed it. The blurring light was swallowed by the darkness leaving only the dim light from the lampshade—a much soothing lighting.

“Are you hungry? Want anything? Jun-ho’s picking something up downstairs for dinner right now,” she said slowly, gazing down at In-ho, who still didn’t look back at her.

In-ho blinked, trying to recollect himself, manually remembering the function of his mouth.
“I’m good,” he answered simply. “I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

Hyun-ju sighed loudly—clearly disapproving and annoyed, then crossed her arms.

“In-ho…come on,” she reprimanded, letting out another sharp breath, as if to filter her words and recompose herself. But In-ho remained silent.

She observed In-ho in the quiet and stillness. He felt like a calm glass, filled to its very edge—brimming with fullness. It was barely containing itself, a brittle glass holding ripples that trembled dangerously. One drop spilled, and its whole existence could shatter.

Scooping out—lessening—isn’t an option. It will always just retain that tip of falling, but never truly fall. It’s like settling, being comfortable in one’s own hell. Holding onto one last thread of false hope and denial, in exchange for never reaching the edge of downfall.

And Hyun-ju’s presence and purpose right now are exactly for that—to shatter and break him.

“I’ll be honest and frank with you now, In-ho,” she started, setting her tone for a serious conversation that caught In-ho’s attention.
“I’ll try to make things direct and short. And—” she paused, eyes watching carefully to make sure In-ho was listening. “And I want you to be honest with yourself.”

In-ho’s whole body tensed at her words. His brow creased, eyes slightly trembling but never leaving her.

“Jun-ho left for us to have a time to talk—alone.” She explained.

Her face softened, a look of concern and pain for words to be uttered free.

“I know Seong Gi-hun.”

In-ho’s hands clenched tighter around the laptop. Seeing him triggered, Hyun-ju slowly placed her hand over one of his to comfort him. Then gently, she peeled his tight fingers away from the lifeless device.

“Calm down, In-ho. You’re safe,” she said softly, now fully taking the laptop from his grip and placing it on the bedside table.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t hold back. I won’t filter, In-ho,” she continued—her voice firm but gently assuring. “We need to do this. You have to face it—face him—In—”

“No!” In-ho shouted, fists trembling. “No! No! NO! NO!”
He kept screaming, leaning forward from his seat, tears falling without restraint.

Hyun-ju only watched as he cracked.
A face so raw—one he had never shown before. His eyes, broken yet furious. His lips trembled as he tried to hold himself together, but his body betrayed him—gasping for air.

“In-ho—” she tried to speak, but he cut her off again.

“Stop—Hyun-ju! Please… please…” he sobbed, the words falling apart. “Anything but that… I can’t—please.”
He reached for her hand—grabbing, clinging—a silent plea. She felt every tremor in every inch of his fingers.

Hyun-ju’s lips pressed shut. She took in all the pieces falling from his fragmented words.

“I can’t face him—I broke him—I… I can’t fix it—please—please—”

“Then don’t.”

Something snapped between them at those words. A harsh reality put in simple words, but one In-ho had been trying so hard to deny.

“Don’t,” she repeated, voice clearer this time.
She turned his hand over, holding him. His hand collapsed, along with the weight of truth bearing down on him.

“Don’t fix it,” she said again—this time aching, sympathizing, but steady. “Don’t cling to something unfixable. Instead—break.”

Her voice held pain, but also strength. “Break—and we will be there to gather whatever remains.”

“Bleed, In-ho. Be a normal human, just once. Face responsibility. Step into uncertainty. Take whatever he throws at you. Accept it. Be hurt.”
She paused—sniffling, needing to breathe—her own tears starting to fall.

“Be brokenhearted, In-ho,” she whispered, wiping her tears with one hand.
“We’ll be there. Not just for you—but for Gi-hun, too. You won’t hurt him. He’ll be safe from you—if that’s what scares you.”

In-ho’s hand slowly returned the grasp—weak, but willing. A trembling step toward acceptance.

“You can’t stay here, burying yourself alive. And he—he can’t stay there forever, trapped by your silence.” Her voice shook, but her words were firm.

“I’m afraid he’ll leave. And you’ll end up like this—hanging in this state. Unresolved. Regretful.” She exhaled shakily, voice almost breaking.

She rubbed her tear-soaked face and dry it one more time as she breathes deep, recomposing herself.

“He’s already conscious.” She stated now calmer. “The doctor updated me. And he’s still there—still in your space, surrounded by people under you. I know you mean well, I know your concern is genuine—but he might take it the wrong way.” She elaborated. “Keeping him like that—he’ll be suffocated. He’ll feel worse, the longer this misunderstanding lasts.” She added.

 “You need to do it, In-ho—for Gi-hun.” she said both hands firmly holding In-ho’s.

“Break yourself free.”

Chapter Text

No.

No. No. no. no.

No. No. No. No. No—

No—No—

No—No—NO—NO—NO—NO!

NO.

The broken word repeated in a litany—cried out in waves of fury, guilt, desperation, pleading, and fear. A multitude of emotions intertwined and twisted together, surging—uttered in a loop unendingly. Over and over, its echo in the room was what tore Gi-hun from sleep.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

He doesn’t even want to fully acknowledge the pain his very self is aching with, but he just knows—it’s painful. And it’s going to break him completely once his fogged-out state clears and he’s left with nothing but the truth.

Something sharp stings—his skin, his throat.

He can’t feel his body. He can barely recognize his state aside from lying down. But to feel where his hand is, or to push it to move and reach up and check his neck—it’s futile.

“Come—here. Now!” the voice shouted.

There’s fragility in the tone, only able to mouth singular words, choked out one at a time.

“Bring—him! Th—Doctor! Him! Them! Ju—just—Fuck—Now! Now!!!”

Hoarse and minced words, yelled with demand and urgency, continued nearby.

Then a glass shattered.

Followed by a trembling voice, gasping violently—loudly, strangled sobs and jagged breaths tripping over each other, barely coming out at all. Gi-hun wasn’t able to move, but his eyes fluttered lightly enough to see the figure of the man’s movements. Blurry, the figure paced back and forth in frantic circles in the room’s kitchenette.

In-ho.

His name rings in Gi-hun’s head, but it never leaves his lips. He eyed the shape in his broken vision, but he was sure. It’s him. He was in that corner, nails on his shoulder, clawing senselessly like it was some replacement for breathing.

In-ho.

He tried to call out again, even without a voice, but it was overtaken by more things breaking.

In-ho leaned in, both palms pressed against the countertop. Desperately, he tried to heave in a breath—but failed. His whole being shook. A groan crawled from his throat and broke off. He grabbed whatever his hand could reach and swept it to the floor.

Again, and again. As if clearing every last piece from the counter in front of him—this very small corner he was hiding in might somehow loosen his throat, might give him just enough emptiness to finally breathe.

“In-ho,” he chokes out the name—Gi-hun hears himself, but it isn’t in the present. Rather, it’s just an echo. An auditory memory returning, pulling tides along with it.

“In-ho.”

His voice—a faint imprint of moments ago, barely audible. One of his hands lifted, trembling, grabbing In-ho, weakly trying to stop him. But he never stopped. In-ho’s hands were firm on his neck. Thumbs pressed so deeply in his throat he could feel his pulse, bouncing back against the man’s fingertips above him.

“In-ho.”

He mouths it one last time as his sight flashes, gradually swallowed by the dark. The last thing he saw was In-ho’s face, looking down on him—stealing the final breath from his lungs, as if erasing him could clear everything he had carried and suffered in silence.

Oh…

Oh.

…

The second time he had woken up, it was due to accumulated sweat, which was drowning and stinging his eyes. He felt hot and weak. As he tried to move, barely a shift, a nurse came running toward him and checked on his state. She smiled at him and gently started to wipe his sweat.

Soon, he was changed into a new set of clean clothes and provided a late breakfast.

He still felt off, but overall, he believed rest was all his body needed, and he’d recover soon.

By 10 am, the nurse who had stayed with him in the morning was replaced, and a doctor came and checked him up after he had eaten. He was stuck in bed throughout the day after. He wouldn’t have minded, but slowly, the empty time he needed to fill turned into suffocating thoughts and questions.

The medical personnel who had come and stayed with him… they weren’t there just to care for him around the clock. They were guards. Watchers. Making sure he stayed exactly where In-ho had left him… or where he wanted him. He could feel it—In-ho’s chains on him. He reached for his neck, feeling the lingering tightness that had held it. Everyone around him was just an extension of In-ho. Their kindness, their smiles, their gentle concern—it was all him. A scary façade he’d fallen into.

Gi-hun adjusted beneath the sheets and moved onto his side, facing the long window. The high curtain had a gap at the edge, filtering the light coming inside. It was already afternoon. Thankfully, the weather isn’t sunny, and the light that fills in isn’t striking. Just enough light warming in comfortably. If it were a typical high noon with the sun up and glaring, it would have reminded him of his office at this time, and it would have made him feel more guilty about his current state.

Curling on his side, he lifted the blanket higher, covering up to his nose before taking a breath in. His eyes closed, and it turned into a yawn. He wasn’t even sure if it was because he was still sleepy—or the opposite. He just felt tired. Tired of being tired.

In-ho. Where could he be?

Gi-hun questioned himself as his fingers fidgeted with each other, settled just below his chin, covered by the blanket. It’s been almost a whole day, and he hasn’t returned, nor has he been checked on. Not even through a message or through his underlings. Could he be at work, going through his day like it’s just a typical one? Maybe. He’ll just have to know later tonight when he comes home.

Home… huh.

This place—and In-ho—has been his home for some time now. A warm place he found after a long stretch of jumping from one place to another, just to have a roof over his head—even at the cost of the little pride he had left. This is the only one he could ever consider a home. It’s not even the luxuries… It’s In-ho who made it feel like home for him—for them. And it was real, even if just for a short time.

He used to believe everything In-ho did was genuine—before. But after the contract signing—no, even long before that. It started when he had that breakdown. That’s when everything between them shifted. Everything spiraled down after that. Still, he never thought it would lead them here.  That it would break In-ho enough to lose himself and do what he did. Things he tried to accept, slowly—but it only got worse. Worse, until it drowned him completely.

And even then, barely keeping himself afloat, surviving—it still wasn’t enough for In-ho.

His existence must perish in In-ho’s. Only then would In-ho be free.

…

For someone who was sexually assaulted and borderline nearly killed, and still recovering from a fever, Gi-hun found himself too calm and clear-headed on the third day that In-ho hadn’t returned to their place. There was barely a thought in his head. Or maybe there were, but they were all tightly and neatly wrapped up for him right now, leaving just one final decision for his body to enact.

Leave.

He wasn’t going to question himself, whether it was purely an act of defense, a move to protect himself from what In-ho had done and was capable of doing, or something else entirely. He just had to.

The nurse silently watched him with concern as he continued to pack his belongings. He wasn’t rushing, quite the opposite. He would pause and stare blankly at times in between rummaging through the clothes in the cabinet. It took him hours just to fill up one bag.

He was already done packing up necessities, taking only basic things and not all the lavish material In-ho had spoiled him with. It took him the whole afternoon just to finish up two small bags, but it was done, leaving nothing but himself to leave.

Then there was a knock.

The nurse hurried to open it, and Gi-hun waited as the person came in.

It was a stranger. A female with androgynous beauty. There was a bit of both softness and sharpness in the way she carried herself and stepped inside the room.  The moment she laid her eyes on Gihun, her gaze felt all too knowing; that made Gi-hun easily vulnerable and seen.

“Seong Gi-hun?” she softly questioned.

He didn’t even have to respond, rather, Hyun-ju eyed him gently, looking scanning until she saw his packed bag, making her face scrunch subtly. She turned to the nurse and gestured for her to leave.

The door closed and the lock clicked. She huffed a breath, and her tense shoulders gradually fell.

“I’m Choi Hyun-ju…” she introduced herself in a faint voice. “Sorry—for coming in unannounced… and disturbing your rest.”

Gi-hun only watched in silence, remaining exactly where he stood, unmoving from the moment she entered.

“I… I am In-ho’s friend.”

Gi-hun took a step back at the name mentioned. His eyes widened—flickered. Color slowly drained from his face. Shaken, his gaze dropped to the floor immediately. Fingers twitching, he curled them into a fist, clutching the hem of his shirt.

“In-ho has nothing to do with this… he didn’t send me,” she said hurriedly, her hands rising instinctively to reach out, only to lower them just as quickly, mindful of the still-fragile boundaries between them.

“I came on my own… so please… I just wanted to see you with my own eyes—to know you’re okay. Or at least… getting better.”

Hyun-ju watched his grip loosen, fingers slowly unfolding.

“I won’t stay long, if that helps,” she added, meant as a statement, but it carried the quiet tone of a plea for permission to stay.

There was a pause before he raised his face. His hands followed, crossing arms on his chest tightly, both hands hiding.

“I see you’ve decided,” she murmured with a faint, sad smile, eyeing his packed belongings.

His eyes followed. A short pause in between before he responded. “I’m… not even sure if I have the option…”

Hyun-ju stared back, confusion and concern at his statement, wordless, her silence seeking clarity.

“He could always drag me back,” he added—flat and truthful.

Reaching for the back of her neck, she started to rub it, taking the strain of her thoughts out through it. The quiet echo at every stop didn’t help either. It just amplified the heavy meaning of each word.

“Can you sit down… please? You’re still recovering…” Hyun-ju suggested, not just out of concern but also for a breather for both of them.

Gi-hun complied, quietly sitting at the edge of the bed. Hyun-ju did the same, seating herself on the chair near the door where the nurses stayed to watch him.

“Did he tell you anything?” Gi-hun asked, trying to continue the conversation and also probing for information. “About what happened?”

His question had a subtle shift in tone at the end. It was raw, still there, unhidden in vague words. “What he did?”

Hyun-ju felt it—the weight that clung to his words.

She knew In-ho was at fault for everything, including all that Gi-hun was suffering through right now, yet she never dared to ask him for details. And it wasn’t her place to know everything unless they opened up themselves.

And In-ho didn’t.

He had physically hurt Gi-hun, based on his fragmented statements. And considering how he introduced him to her indirectly in his messages as “his pet,” there was a power play in their relationship.

“He didn’t. I just have ideas…” she explained as honestly as she could.

“Then… did he indirectly put you here?” he asked again, his hands now clasped in his lap. “Are you here to check up on me and report to him… to stop me from leaving?”

Gi-hun’s words carried bitterness, his gaze refusing to face her.

“No. No. No…” Hyun-ju immediately denied. “As I said… I’m truly here on my own accord,” she stated again, more firmly. “No reporting to In-ho… not even about… your plans,” she assured him.

Gi-hun managed to give a slow, singular nod that looked like a bow even with a blank face, a gesture to show her his appreciation, even just a little.

It made Hyun-ju smile lightly, just a press of the lips with a small curve at the edge.

“You said… he’d drag you back if you ever leave…” she started again, her fingers interlaced like his as she leaned forward before continuing.

“You said you don’t have an option… but… it may not come from In-ho directly, nor do you have to believe it right now, but… You have the option to leave and simply feel safe,” she stated.

But even with that, Gi-hun remained still, downcast and not hopeful in response to her words.

“I’m not bluffing,” she added, reassuring further, knowing mere words still wouldn’t reach him easily. “I… I would even be there to make sure you can.”

Gi-hun barely glanced at her, but now lifted his eyes to see her continue.

Hyun-ju gave her a sincere and comforting smile, affirming.

“My purpose is truly just to check up on you as I wanted to... and offer you whatever help I can… heck, even just be someone to talk to…” she said. There was almost a subtle laugh at the end, but she waved it away just as quickly.

“It’s been days you’ve been stuck here in this room,” she said, concerned, as she exhaled and eyed the room around her. Clean as it may be, it felt so suffocating and hauntingly hollow in some sense.

“You are free. You have options. Choice—of your own…” she said softly.

Gi-hun sat up and straightened his back, eyeing her with a disheartened gaze. Her words had the opposite effect of the comfort she intended.

"Gi-hun..." Hyun-ju could only utter softly, her voice laced with sympathy. She was aware of the internal conflict he was going through, one that a stranger like her could never fully comprehend.

She stared, lost for words, struggling to find anything amid the quiet to ease him, but Gi-hun’s sigh filled it in.

He shook his head. At first, Hyun-ju thought it was disagreement, but then he did it more profusely, groaning, ending with both palms pressed to his face—like he was trying to shake something out of himself. That’s when she realized… he was just trying to get a hold of himself.

“Sorry…” he uttered, his hands now loose at his sides, his self more collected. “You’re not part of this… You mean well, too… I believe that,” he mumbled.

“It’s just… option or not, whether I get to leave or not… I think facing him is inevitable,” he confessed, his voice dejected, a weary smile pressed to his lips.

She could only hold her breath and bear the weight in silence—to at least be a presence, to listen, and catch the drips of everything he had been holding in alone.

Hyun-ju had the same thought. She intended to have them talk at some point, but she also knows the sensitivity of the situation and the fragility of the two people involved. All she aimed for was to have at least a very little hope for Gi-hun to give him a chance to set forth his truth—not to justify his actions, nor even to be forgiven, but to simply have clarity and maybe closure.

Still, despite this, it was only second to her priority of keeping both of them in a safe state, in both the time and space they required. Even if it meant the loss of In-ho’s chance to see him. She had no plans to press the matter today, but Gi-hun was the one setting it up for himself.

It scared her.

“I… understand. And you can—speak with him as you wish… but—” her grip on her clasped hands tightened, her voice trembling and unsettled, though she tried to de-escalate. “Give yourself some time first. You don’t even have to worry about your space. In-ho won’t set foot here uninvited. You’re safe to stay—or even to find and get another place for your peace… There’s no need to rush things,” she explained, calming herself as she spoke.

“If the time comes, I’ll be there too. I’ll make space for you to talk privately, but close enough for both of you to feel secure,” she added, taking a breath in.

“In-ho refused to see you.” She laid it out, offering a glimpse of the other side—hoping it would settle something in him. “He’s scared for your safety… being alone with him.”

Even with her statement, Gi-hun didn’t budge. He remained unmoving, staring down at the ground or into the space in between.

“Tonight…” Gi-hun declared. “Tonight, let us do it tonight,” he said, low, barely above a whisper yet firm.

Hyun-ju just stared, torn between discomfort and protest. She was unable to find the words before Gi-hun continued, clawing at his knees and facing her, shaken but resolute.

“I wanted to leave,” he said plainly.

He shook his head, quickly refusing when he saw Hyun-ju about to speak.

“I want to hear him… I want to know—” he paused, “—and end it all.”

Chapter Text

The rain started to fall. Brisk, and getting heavier by the second. Drops splattered on the window, and Gi-hun watched as it blurred and obscured the once radiant city below. It was quiet—a sudden downpour. One would almost not expect it, as the night shadowed the heaviness it had carried. This small bedroom, veiled with warmth, cloaked the storm’s murmurs that had been stirring to pour outside.

The reflection of his face was cast in the window. Eyes sunken, face worn and gaunt. Rain dripped on the glass in haunting silence as larger drops splattered. He watched it distort his reflection and slowly trickle off his empty gaze like tears.

It would have been better if he could cry. But even physical torment and not a blink of rest since yesterday had not allowed him a breath—to break himself and lighten the ache. Instead, all he had was a trapped, protruding pain consuming him as company. He watched time passing through his grasp and consciousness.

He had fully recovered from his fever. Ironically, he felt both light and heavy—like his mind was floating somewhere vast and empty, incapable of control, while his body buried under something undefined he’d been carrying.

Hands crossed as he pulled the blanket draped over his shoulder.

Hyun-ju had offered him—no, she rejected his demand to meet with In-ho that same night she had visited him. He saw how his decision had caused her turmoil, even in her calmness and stillness as she sat. She was patient and was taking all consideration—his state more than Gi-hun was to himself, and maybe In-ho’s as well.

In the end, out of respect for his wish, she only asked for another night—for Gi-hun to take more time, to think through his decision, before they proceeded to have him meet In-ho once again.

And it never changed.

Rather, his impulsive thoughts that spilled out—this so-called decision, barely thought through or processed—were his sole route. He could run and hide. Leave everything behind along with the man that had caused everything.

But In-ho, no longer just the looming chain or fear over his power and possessiveness to drag him—it was In-ho himself who was making him falter to take a step outside.

Abandoning him.

He couldn’t rationalize things. He couldn’t clear up his emotions and reason right now. It felt blocked even for himself—like an itch you claw out of your own flesh but can never pinpoint its exact source. No matter how deep you dig, you never get rid of it.

It wasn’t meant to be forcibly taken out by him alone. He needed In-ho—to lay out everything, bare the truth, before he took that step. And whatever it had left them both with, he’d just have to take the remaining pieces of himself and start from that.

A knock.

Soon after, the door slowly swung open with Hyun-ju peeking gently before walking in. She had a small smile pressed to her lips—a gentle assurance and comfort. Yet, it was mixed with a faint, undeniable sadness glinting in her eyes.

“Hey…” she started.

“Hyun-ju,” he simply acknowledged with the same bittersweet smile.

She took unhurried steps closer, growing longer as she drew near and closed the distance. When there was none left, her arm wrapped around him cautiously but steadily. She felt Gi-hun’s hand slip back and return the hug, even if just gentle fingers clung to her back.

“Do you still want this?” she asked, almost a whisper, before withdrawing herself but staying just as close.

Gi-hun looked up at her. He nodded—simple, unwavering.

She exhaled quietly. A quiet acceptance.

“Ok,” she said. “Just know I’ll be in the next room. And I’m gonna be with Jun-ho. He’s In-ho’s brother—and no worries, he’s on your side too. And I can beat the two of them if you need assurance.” She smirked with confidence.

“I’m not joking. I’m more of a man than those two combined,” she added a little too proudly, and a wider smile.

Gi-hun chuckled—a breathy, soft laugh, almost too low to be heard, but visible enough in his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he answered back with genuine appreciation.

She nodded once again. Her face eased, loosened, gradually returning to something serious as she stared at him.

“I’m gonna let In-ho in now,” she stated. “And I’m reminding you once again…” She took his hands and firmly held them.

“You can stop midway. You can step back. You can have another chance to talk. You don’t need to stay. You don’t owe him...” She hesitated once as she paused.

Gi-hun brushed his thumbs over hers as he waited.

“Truth be told, I am grateful to you for giving this chance to him…” she confessed. “But no matter what, still prioritize yourself—your comfort. Ok?” she urged him.

She stepped out of the room. As he waited patiently, his fingers clung and pulled his blanket closer and tight around him.

He heard footsteps.

He felt his breath hitch past his lips as if it had been there longer than he had known it was held.

His heart was battering out of his chest.

He swallowed, forcing the twisting tightness in his throat back.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe manually.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Then the stop. Footsteps had officially landed in the same room he was in.

“Gi-hun,” Hyun-ju called him out, but he remained facing the wall window.

“Gi-hun?” she repeated, more concerned and questioning.

He looked up at the reflection he had been staring at this whole afternoon.

In-ho…

His gaze was immediately drawn to his silhouette, even as he stood behind the two taller persons.

His head lowered down, facing the floor.

Hyun-ju took a step forward.

He heaved another breath.

“You can leave… us now… Me—and In-ho. Please…” he requested, his voice low and strained.

No reply came. Hyun-ju and Jun-ho silently stepped out, giving them space and time alone.

The terrace lounge door opened, carrying the sound of heavy rain from outside. Seconds later, it shut, leaving a void—a foreboding yet fragile presence lingering in the room.

The remaining person made a step towards Gi-hun. That singular step was too loud for him.

“Stop.” He ordered, his voice far higher than he had sounded in these past days.

He turned around but met with In-ho barely inch away from the entrance. His gaze was downcast unable to face him.

Gi-hun felt enraged and seething at what he saw. An incomprehensible fury boiled inside him. Still, he remained composed, holding himself steady and choking his feelings back down.

In-ho’s face had a gauze pad on his right cheekbone, the flesh beneath still plump and swollen, lifting slightly into the lower lid of his eye. Below his lips and along the lower cheek were a few small adhesive band-aids. Scattered on his forehead and surrounding his eyes were darkened, healing scabs. His left side was far clearer, as if left untargeted, still though faint, some claw-like marks still ran across it.

“You can sit in that couch,” Gi-hun muttered, his voice now more even, eyeing the sofa near the window, across from where he stood. He had a glimpse of him looking at him but easily withdrew his gaze as soon as he returned to face him. He remained still in his position, unmoving.

Gi-hun stepped farther away, reaching the nightstand before kneeling and sinking to the floor, the bed at his side and the table at his back. He drew his knees close, arms wrapping around himself. Two packed bags sat on the opposite side of the bed to his left, forming a kind of barricade—a small space of comfort. Shifting within that space, he made himself smaller, pressing into the bed’s edge, as far as possible from where he’d pointed the other man.

In-ho finally started to make steps of his own. Drawing near the couch Gi-hun told him to be at, he leaned down, hands on the cotton seats. His knees lowered, settling down on the floor then legs crossed as his body slouched down. His shoulders were sunken as his hands intertwined, fingers clenched digging in.

Gi-hun watched him—his slow movements, his miserable state. Not just physical, but the same emotional sufferings that overflowed and consumed him from the inside. It was almost a mirror. And that’s what made him feel bitter. He felt spiteful for In-ho showing himself like this.

He should be angry. He was. But not for the reason he thought he would be.

His fury should be toward him. To blame the faults on him. To unload the mess. Not this. Not seeing him broken and too pitiful.

It felt mocking.

Leaving these broken remnants to him when he should have been the one to break.

He cared.

Despite everything—no, because of everything, of what he was right now, the leftover crumbled being he was—he cared for him more than anything right now. More than himself.

The irony of his feelings. An urge, a surge of concern to protect him—his own aggressor. It was laughable.

His heart betraying himself.

“What happened to y—your face?” he asked, his tone stripped of concern, trying for neutrality—yet his voice cracked at the end.

In-ho shifted reluctantly, then stiffly, from his seat. He drew one leg up, planting his foot flat on the floor, inching it closer bit by bit. His other leg remained folded, knee to the ground, as his hands crept to clutch the raised leg.

It’s not even out of concern that Gi-hun remained silent and patient as In-ho took his time, doing anything but opening his mouth to answer. He’s simply just tired. And if it’s what he needs, then he would wait.

“You could have let Hyun-ju tell me your condition, and we could have scheduled another day,” he uttered quietly.

He continued to watch the man opposite, still shifting on his seat on the floor. His hands felt agitated and uncomfortable, twitching and never resting at one place. He started to rub one of his hands on his leg.

Profusely, then slowing down.

He stopped.

“I’m fine,” he answered. “Hyun-ju made this herself.” He admitted plainly. Almost just a slip of honesty with his stuttering voice rambling just to fill the empty.

Oh.

In-ho grabbed his leg, fingers curling tight. Regret.

“Does it have something to do with me?” Gi-hun asked.

In-ho raised his face to deny immediately but—

Their eyes finally met for the first time.

Gi-hun watched as his eyes fell to him. Drawn. Shaken. Weak.

He saw him well up without tears. Hold his breath, fighting back to withdraw but faltering.

Only his eyes flickered. Helpless to the pull. Just capable of partially obscuring his sight and trying hard to divert his gaze to the empty in between them.

Gi-hun fell back this time. Head down. Surrendering over that unspoken yearning and guilt tangled together of the man before him.

It was clear.  Delivered and received.

“No. It’s not… not about you.” In-ho added. “It’s something else.” He explained.

Oh…

He paused and takes a breath in. “Then…then I think Hyun-ju is still right and you deserve it.” Gi-hun claimed eyes on his fidgeting fingers.

“Hmm…” In-ho agreed. “I did deserve it.”

The silence loomed afterward. Gi-hun watched the partial edge of the window left uncovered by the hanging curtain he had pulled aside. The gust of wind carried each strike of rain splattering against the pane. And still, it never reached in—not a single tap was heard. Nothing. Only the loud echo of silence occupied the room, coldly, as no more words were spoken.

Either time had stretched under their own perception, or it had simply passed, spent in nothingness. No one had filled it.

It was almost a lull. A pause amid the heightened anticipation of their meeting. Tension had dissipated. But this comfort—Gi-hun should not allow himself to feel it. Peace and relief should not be here. Not now.

He turned his face back to In-ho, his gaze fixed on him but avoiding his eyes.

“Did Hyun-ju tell you anything?” he asked, eyes drifting to his packed bag beside him.

Again, no response. He didn’t wait this time; it wouldn’t change a thing, whatever the answer.

“I’m gonna leave,” he declared calmly.

He glanced at him—still unmoving. Barely a muscle twitched on that withdrawn face. It frustrated him.

“I’m going to leave,” he repeated. “And whether you drag me back… or have me arrested over my debt…” he stated with resolve “or… even accuse me of violating our contract… I’ll still take my chance.” He continued everything despite each line cracked at every pause.

Silence.

Still an aggravating silence.

“In-ho!” he yelled, demanding his attention. He panted, and his blanket slipped, revealing a shoulder trembling as he called out his name.

“Speak. Talk to me. Don’t make this harder than it supposed to be. I wanna hear you…” He was furious. Spiteful. But his words broke, along with tears welling up.

He had been begging and yet—

Unanswered was the answer. Cruel and belittling. That was what Gi-hun took from this.

Hand raised, he moved to pull the blanket back into place and grip it to ground himself. Looking down, he froze halfway as he noticed his fingers shaking violently. He frantically held them with his other hand, even though it bore the same tremor.

“Gi-hun…” In-ho finally whispered his tone fragile and worried.

That one word answer hung in the air. It made Gi-hun stop. Gripping on his hands still tightly, his head fall on his knees obstructing In-ho to see him and his state.

“Gi-hun…” he said even softer this time.

A chuckle.

Gi-hun sounded weakly, just above a whisper, but it was certainly a laugh.

In-ho remained silent, listening patiently, letting the fragile, broken laughter be the only sound between them. He watched Gi-hun slump on his knees, the tremor of it visible through his body. His tone wavered, fragile and unstable.

“Gi-hun… huh…” Gi-hun muttered mockingly. Finally shifting back to his seat, his gaze lifted, chin still pressed to his knees as he slouched.

“My name—it sounds so foreign coming from you,” he continued. “It feels wrong to hear it when we’re alone… you’ve only called me as you wanted me to be—” his voice hitched as he cut his words.

“—some damn pet of yours.” he snorted.

Gi-hun stared back at In-ho, catching the paralyzed guilt laced across his expression.

He snickered. “It’s fine… forget it.” He cut himself off, dismayed.

“Hyun-ju might have made me hope a bit… to hear something from you… but maybe it’s my fault for demanding this to happen so soon.” He tried to calm himself down.

“Guess you’ll just remain shut, and I’ll wait in doom for your answers… in actions.” He concluded weakly, resigned.

“I’ll leave. Run. Hide. And I’ll live—still bound to you wherever I go… helpless.”

“You—and your games…” Another harsh chuckle escaped him, deliberate and scornful.

“I’m just that, huh… a pet of yours.” He scoffed, choking the words out.

His body shuddered, his chest felt tight and tears had fallen. He rushed to rub them intensively, but they broke free uncontrollably falling. Still, with both palms, he continued to dry them desperately.

“Just some entertainment… in your fucking mind games,” he continued between sobs.

 “I’ll be anything to you…”

He stopped rubbing and let his hands fall, watching the streams pour into his palms.

“I’d be your pillow, your blanket, your headache pill, your charity case—your little obsession to toy with…”

His harsh tone faded, returning to a low, trembling whisper. His words cracked under his hoarsened throat

“I’d be anything for you… anything you’d want me to be—” He stared at the man he accused.

“Anything but me…”

“No!—”In-ho screamed. “No… no.no—Gi-hun… Stop. Pl—ease—I’m sorry… I’m sor—”

Both his knees were now on the floor. In-ho’s body leaned forward toward Gi-hun but remained still where he was sitting. One hand had been planted on the floor, visibly shaking as it carried his slouched form.

Tears streamed. Unrestrained.

Panting, In-ho’s lips trembled, words stuttered.

Gi-hun watched him. His eyes followed the tears spilling, rolling down the edges of In-ho’sjaw and beading at his chin. They dropped onto his lap, hot, pooling.

He felt it—on his own skin. The same unrelenting spill. But it was only a momentary pause; it never eased the ache inside him. It was too late to plug it. It was here to break.

“If you won’t speak—I will. And you can’t shut me up,” Gi-hun exclaimed. “Only when my voice finally gives out will I stop,” he added firmly.

He dropped his gaze from In-ho, bringing both shaking palms up to cover his nose and mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second as he gasped a breath, then let it out in a gradual exhale. Feeling his breathing no longer out of his grasp, he lifted his face and tilted up staring at the empty ceiling.

The tears continued—warm, relentless, and unstoppable.

“Besides… everything I’ve said are words from your own mouth, In-ho,” he said. “Everything you’ve seen me as. Everything you molded me to be… I remembered each of them. Treasured them.”
He gave a hollow sigh. “But of course, I’m just some foolish pet, taking them as if they were genuine compliments.”

“Gi-hun… I—“

“What!” he yelled, cutting him off, fury reigniting. “All I’ve said is the truth! All you’ve ever taken me as is just some tool, some animal with benefits!” He glared at him, no longer bothering to hide the unfiltered tears.

 “I… I have my reasons,” In-ho admitted, his voice a stark contrast to Gi-hun’s. “I have reasons… but they could never validate my actions, nor—”

Gi-hun’s voice cracked as he cut in again, harsher this time. “Then tell me. Go on—tell me, and let me be the one to decide.”

In-ho stared at him, hurt and tear-stained, silent. He tried to clutch the floor for control, but even as his palm pressed fully against it, with his weight leaning on it, his fingers twitched—unable to cling to any grip of control.

Gi-hun felt he couldn’t stand another second of silence. At how In-ho kept dragging things, Rage would rupture out of him if this continued.

Waiting and patience were no longer on the table—they were past that.

Gi-hun no longer saw the point of talking or cursing to explain his point.

Not turning around, Gi-hunt raised his hands. He reached at the top of the night table behind him. He grabbed a water bottle.

He hurled it at In-ho.

It struck In-ho's shoulder and fell into his lap. The half-filled water spilled, pouring all over him. He just watched the water soak his pants and pool on the floor. He didn’t flinch at the impact. He didn’t look up. He simply stared down. Blinking, every drop of tears running down his face, seeped into his already soaked pants.

He watched the bottle completely emptied on his lap. He slowly took it. Fixed the cap. Gently settled it on his side. All cautiously like it is something fragile, disregarding the whole mess it had caused.

His hands returned to his lap. Wet and cold, shivering and twitching. He intertwined his hands grasping to control the tremors.

In between his shuddering breaths, he forced himself to take deeper inhales.

“I want you to be mine…”

“Mine alone… I want ownership, that’s why—I’d prefer calling you that—”

He started to confess, low and slow.

“I don’t trust people. They have freedom. Choices…”

“Only when I’m in full control of them… like pawns. A definite scope… mutual benefits… a position I put people to… exact expectations… actions they play for me—”

In-ho’s voice cracked, but he persisted, forcing himself to continue.

“That’s the only way I can stand them—”

He withheld his words and composed himself for a moment.

“Only reason I feel comfortable.”

He took a moment to breathe.

“I want you.”

He admitted.

Short. Simple.

“I wanted you badly—the moment I met you… all I thought was where to designate you. You—what are you. I want you… that’s all I know… so I must know first… know you.”

His words continued to tremble, words barely mouthed as he carries on unleashing the greatest surge of tears.

“But knowing you more made everything worse… I can no longer assess you. I can no longer put logic on things. But—but I feel… happy.”

“Too… HAPPY, and it was scary... to be that happy.”

Brittleness of the last word was palpable. He wiped his face once again with the back of his hand only to detach the wet gauze from his cheek. Still swollen. Still red.

“Too… many emotions.”

“Too… overwhelming—for such a short period of time…”

His voice muffled, suffocated, he had to have another deep inhale.

“You made me forget… how I should live… how I had lived… you’re ruining it—you’re ruining me.”

Hand clutching to the edge of the couch turned into fist.

“It was a mess… and it only leads me to one thing—I…”

“I need you.”

His voice hitched as it passed through his quivering lips

“I need you, Gi-hun. I need you to stay. Need you with me. Need you with no choice but to stay. With nothing to think of—but me…”

Words stuttered as it was rushed out in one breathe.

“Just mine. Just mine. Just mine! Just MINE!!” He cried out.

He gasped out of breath, body fallen and leaning on the base of the couch. His free hand clutching at his chest. Past the damp shirt, nails clawed at his flesh.

“But—BUT… people can’t be owned!! Freedom, choices…”

Each line shook in fear and desperation.

“And they choose… not to stay. To leave.”

His voice sunk.

“I would never be anyone’s choice… Everyone left. Not one ever stayed for me.”

He breathed in sobs and this second he wiped his face, a blood trickled from his reopened wound.

“And so am I.”

“I am left with no choice but to use the only things I have been built to be.”

In-ho felt the sting. He gazed at his hand that had dried his face, now smeared with a line of blood on his finger.

“Contracts.”

“To use people. To manipulate. To control.”

“To own.”

“To force you to have no choice. No freedom.”

"Force you to choose me."

“I could never own you as Seong Gi-hun… but as a pet, I felt.... I could.”

“Make you mine.”

“Make you stay.”

“Make me feel safe.”

Tears spilled, dropping onto his blood-stained hands, washing them clean.

He shifted from where he slumped against the couch. With a hand on the seat’s edge, he pushed himself into a more comfortable sit.

Composing himself, he evened out his breath in that short pause.

“I don’t like hearing your name. It’s what people used… came from people outside… outside us. A version of you … for them, not mine.”

“Every time I hear it, it reminds me… you’re someone else. A person with choices. Free will. You could leave me anytime. And I… I can’t bear it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“I wanted it to be just us. Nothing else. Nothing to disturb… nothing to take you away from me.”

“Not even yourself.”

“Your name—it echoes back at me… how far I’ve gone, how immoral I’ve been, lengths I’d take just to make you mine.”

“Calling you my pet… is a patch that makes me feel safe.”

“Ignorant. Foolish—YES… I know. I KNOW!”

“But that’s all I need.”

"THATS ALL I NEED."

“I’m safe.”

“I’m with you.”

“I can hold onto something. I can hold onto you.”

“Even if it’s wrong. Even if it’s a lie. Even if it’s fake.”

His throat was strained, rough with dryness

“I thought… I thought I could own you. I thought I could spoil you, give you everything, and make you stay with me without question. I thought it would be enough.”

He stopped. Pursed shut his lips trying to hold the flood about to burst.

“But the contract… signing it didn’t fix anything. It didn’t ease my chest. It didn’t stop the pain… seeing you, knowing I can’t control it all—”

“I can physically force to own you… but I can’t have you…”

"I could not..."

“Everything feels wrong…”

“Everything is WRONG!!”

“And I can’t do anything about it.”

“And it haunts me.”

“It scared me.”

“I can’t—I can’t do anything but just suffer and—“

“Hurt you”

“Punished you.”

“Put the blame… everything on you…”

“I felt lost…”

“I felt I’ve lost.”

“Us—You.”

In-ho felt defeated. Broken and bleeding as he laid out his truths.

He finally looked up to see the recipient of his confessions.

Gi-hun just stared back in quiet, restrained outrage.

His eyes were dry—no more tears to let go—but the hurt remained.

“And you’ll kill me over those reasons…” Gi-hun muttered cold and sharp.

“And you cheated too—”

“Oh right—I’m just some convenient stay-at-home paid sex slave for you.” He spat at him. “So it wouldn’t count—I’m just a rug to wash off the disgusting remnants of your other sexual endeavor you regretted.” He hissed.

“I believe you forgot to put it in our damn contract.” He softly laughed, mockingly.

He pulled his blanket, gripping it with his shaking fingers. Holding and putting pressure on how he held it still never eased him.

Hurt and furious, feeling almost insulted in disbelief, he glared at him.”

“All this time… so all this time you were seeing me—no, you were deliberately trying to degrade me into just some belonging—a thing, huh.”

Gi-hun could feel his jaw rattle with intensity as he clenched, holding back every emotion within.

“And here I am… thinking you are everything to me…” He tiredly chuckled.

He placed both palms over his eyes, rubbing his face, gradually reaching his hair—sweeping, rubbing profusely at his head.

“You are everything to me… In-ho.”

Another spike of tears fell.

“I came to your goddamn building planning to end it all at the day we met.” He cried.

“I have nothing. I am nothing.”

He smiled. Broken.

“But you were my second chance at everything… my hope.”

“I got a job. I got friends. I got my daughter back—my life back…”

He started to sniff through his clogged nose, breathing, choking on his words at every utterance.

“I got a home. I got to feel again…”

“I am HAPPY TOO!!"

"I’m so happy—for such a long time I get to be happy again because of you, In-ho!” His voice was tight, but shaking at the higher tones.

“And it felt just like a dream. I felt I didn’t deserve you—us.”

“So, I confined my feelings. Disregarded them, as if they didn’t exist. I tried. I tried hard, In-ho.”

“I could be happy and live off this happiness with you if I didn’t ruin it—if I’d just be as you want me to be…”

“Be your warmth at night. Your company. Your plug when you spiral…”

“I would even willingly offer myself if you needed it. If it would ease you. If it’s me you need…”

“But you’ve pushed me—hurt me past my limits. Treated me like some real animal after that fucking contract of yours.”

He cried, bit his lips and gasp to breathe.

“I thought I’d given up… I felt trapped.”

“I just had to accept my position in your life… and act as I had been appointed to.”

“And that night—“ Gi-hun chuckled, defeatedly. “That night you forced yourself on me and almost choked me to death…”

He stopped.

“I thought—I…” He started sobbing once again, hugging his knees for support.

“I thought—"

"Ah… he’s just taking everything back from me.”

“My whole life—I owed it to you… and—”

“I… I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you… you’re just taking everything I owed—taking my life.”

He paused and breathed once more. Weakly laughing, hysterically, at his own words.

“And if it’s what you need—if taking my life would help you—”

“I thought, sure… kill me.”

“I would willingly offer my life…”

“And I’m not just some… heroic, suicidal pet of yours.”

“I know. I felt it.”

He glanced at In-ho before continuing.

“You need me to not exist in your life…”

“I am the reason you are breaking…”

"It's me who need to not exist... for you to return to In-ho I have known."

"To In-ho I cared."

"To In-ho I have fallen to...."

He cleaned his face again. A small laugh, just above a whisper.

“Realizing things… I’m so pitiful for falling for you.”

“It’s funny.” He bitterly smirked. “I feel shame for myself, for putting myself like this.” He admitted.

“I’m just tired.” 

“I don’t even know what I’m fighting for, nor what I want to demand from you here…”

He sighed tiredly.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have met… it would have been better…”

“You’d be just the same perfect, cool-headed man in suit in his office.”

“You’d maybe be just cold in your bed."

"Alone."

"But you are safe.”

“And I?" Another soft chuckle with his mouth pressed in his knees.

"I’d be safe too… six feet underground or what—but safe from us."

'From what we’ve been…”

Gi-hun exhaustedly fully settled his face down on his knees hiding from his company.

He had said it. He was done.

He felt empty.

Nothing was really resolved.

Nothing was meant to be fixed.

He felt he had bled everything as he should.

And he just hoped… that at some point, rather than letting things swell and rot him from the inside out, it would be better if he—no... if both of them bled the night to heal someday.

“I’m sorry for the water bottle,” he murmured, no longer gazing up.

“I think you’re still an idiot for taking that hit… and everything else…” Gi-hun added, too depleted, feeling he’d collapse soon.

“Idiot,” he added one last time barely audible.

“Gi-hun…” In-ho whispered.

“It’s me who should be groveling, apologizing to you,” he claimed.

“I’m sorry. For everything… and I won’t hold you back from anything you decide from now on.”

“You’re no longer indebted to me. No contract to tie you to me. You are free…”

In-ho sighed, doubting if Gi-hun was still conscious and listening. He started to adjust his state and sit on his knees before he formally knelt fully, resting his head on the floor along with his palms.

“I’m sorry, Gi-hun,” he pleaded genuinely. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I won’t expect you to accept my apologies.”

“Thank you for everything…”

“Please stay the night and rest… I shall take my leave…”

…

The next day, Gi-hun had woken up late once again but felt lighter. It was past breakfast, and nobody had disturbed his sleep.

He went to the room kitchenette and stared at the coffee maker. He grabbed a mug but halted, dumbfounded on how to work this tool.

He had never had a chance to study it ever since In-ho always prepared a cup of coffee for two every day. Warm and ready.

He started to set down his mug and annoyingly tried to figure out the too many buttons of this machine, but he couldn’t comprehend it, as the language on each was something he was not familiar with, and so incomprehensible to him. It was maybe French. Or Italian. He’s not sure. And he wanted to curse In-ho and his damn luxuries for complicating his life.

He was already hurting his back as he leaned in too close to it.

He sighed, groaned, and lightly patted his back, stretching it as he stood straight.

Only then did he realize another presence standing at the door.

In-ho.

There was a shock in his face, but really, with his battered still face and drained expression, it was almost too faint to notice.

He didn’t say anything.

Gi-hun didn’t say anything either, caught like a déjà vu over fighting the coffee maker.

The memory flushing through him made him almost blush. Or too late—maybe he already did.

He withdrew his gaze back down.

He walked away, grabbed a second mug, and settled it beside his on the counter. Then he left. Walked past In-ho, who never moved an inch, and sat comfortably on the couch where they drank their coffee.

Like always.

Like they used to.

Gi-hun didn’t turn. He just heard footsteps walking, then followed by clinks of the mug, and soon the coffee maker working for its owner.

The bitterness of coffee wafted through the room and calmed Gi-hun.

It didn’t take long for In-ho to come to their own places, setting up the two coffee mugs on the table, as he sat an inch away from him.

Still silence.

Still not one gaze.

Just the pure presence of a routine comfort they had long built.

Gi-hun took a sip. The heat flowed inside him, and his shoulder fell enough to graze the other. It flinched at the contact, backed away, leaning down to reach its own mug at the table.

He drank.

In-ho returned to his seat, resting his back, and this time rested where he left off and settled comfortably with Gi-hun’s shoulder.

As Gi-hun continued to sip slowly, trying to cherish this slow warm silence and In-ho’s own warmth—he set down the barely-hot coffee on the table and let himself lean further into In-ho.

Maybe—

Maybe he could stay.

Maybe they could not just hurt together… but also heal together.

Maybe they could have a second chance.

Maybe they could start over—clean. Honest.

Maybe…

“Do you have anything to say, In-ho?” Gi-hun asked, finally looking up at him as he leaned his head on his shoulder.

He gazed at him. Patient. Hopeful.

Tell me what I need to hear.

Please…

I love you, Gi-hun.

Or maybe it was the same—almost.

But it was in In-ho’s own way of saying it.

“I’m freeing you, Gi-hun.”

Chapter Text

Gi-hun snapped back from his deep thoughts as he felt the physical pull on his shoulder. It was Sae-byeok. Sprawled across the table from the opposite side, she nudged him, stirring him out of his thoughts.

“Come on now!! Gi-hun, please! Don’t go now…” she smirked, gazing up at him. “—going back to dreamland and leaving me here,” she added, still grinning, and tugged further at his shoulder with both hands.

Gi-hun just stared down with plain displeasure, as her smile only grew annoyingly wider. Swiftly, he pulled his arms away from her grip.

He leaned forward, crossed his arms, and paused to intently eye on her. Then, raising his index finger, he pressed it against her forehead and gently but assertively pushed her back down into her seat. She simply pouted and slowly let herself sink into it.

Gi-hun huffed as he returned to his chair, never leaving her with a reprimanding gaze. His back dropped against the swivel chair, causing it to shift sideways a little.

“Is this how you ask for a favor? By being annoying?” Gi-hun claimed sarcastically raising his eye brow.

Sae-byeok sighed. Leaned and settled her elbows on the table and held her both cheeks with her palms. Another sulking face, a big sad face to pester the employee in his office, and it was working.

“Gi-hun…” she crooned, trying to pull a puppy face. “It’s just for one day. It’s even on your day off!! Come on, help a girl have her fun while she’s young. Please. Please. PleaseeeeEEEEEE.”

Gi-hun groaned. Legs crossed, he looked at her, irritated.

“Then you could have just been more responsible and not booked your appointments on the same dates?” he scolded. “You can’t always get saved. Why not just decide what’s important and properly decline the other. Don’t expect others to always cover for you and save your ass, Sae-byeok.” He added further.

“I will! I know… It’s just I’ve been busy with finals, and… and I’ve never had a vacation since returning to studying and my scheduled slipped.” She admitted. “And this trip is all-expenses paid!! I just totally forgot… I have my one-day part-time with Woo-seok that same day of my travel… so… please, Gi-hun?” she pleaded, leaning forward, but this time more genuine. “Help me?”

Gi-hun closed his eyes and sighed, thinking thoroughly, or maybe just messing a little with Sae-byeok to teach her a lesson.

“If you don’t go, I have another person I could try to beg. Worst case, I’ll even go to Woo-seok personally if I can’t find a substitute,” she explained. “But… it’s just perfect!!” she exclaimed, grinning. Too excited.

“You’re on your day off. And I know! We know too well how you spend your days off taking unpaid work here in this pink hotel because you’re bored and can’t really rest since this dang hellhole you’ve been working at is your home as well!”

Gi-hun’s brow creased in dumbfoundment at her statement.

“You’re indirectly mocking me, just so you know. In case you didn’t notice, Sae-byeok.” He called her out. “Same person you were begging for help seconds ago, might I remind you.”

She just giggled in response, while he huffed a breath, but his lips were already forming into a smile, giving in.

“It’s true though. You’ve turned into some workaholic after leaving your old job,” she said. “I know getting a new job is hard and this hotel—it isn’t that bad… but it’s also not that great for you to devote your whole life to it. Don’t forget you have a real life outside this,” she said concernedly.

“If you want to work, fine. Then take my part-time and at least get some fresh air outside, see the blue sky, and get paid for extra work for a change. I’ll even give you and Woo-seok coupons for free coffee after your part-time.” She sighed, frustrated. “And the job won’t even take a full day. It’s only half a day of cleaning—then you can still come back here if you’re that devoted to this damn hotel.”

Gi-hun just stared back, now confused by the turn of the conversation, stopping himself from processing which emotion he should feel. So he just remained staring wide-eyed, brows furrowed, and speechless.

“I’m serious,” Sae-byeok said softly continuing. “It’s not just me… the others too are worried… ever since— well, regardless of that… you should try to take some time off.”

He understood. He reflected on every word she was saying. He appreciated her concern and her subtle respect for boundaries over the sensitive topic.

“Are you that desperate for a fill-in?” Gi-hun smirked, and Sae-byeok just pouted, then immediately followed with a smile and giggles.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll take your side hustle with Woo-seok. But make sure this is just a one-time thing, ok?” he pointed out.

She stood, lightly jumped, and slammed both her hands on the table as she leaned toward him contentedly.

“I’ll take this as your graduation gift to me, Gi-hun! You’re my savior. Thank you so much!!” she grinned.

“Oh?” he smirked back at her, leaning into his chair and tilting it back. “And what will I do with my already-bought gift? Should I return it?” he teased.

She was alarmed, instantly jumping in place.

“No! I want it!!” she demanded, and then sprinted and circled around the table before tackling to hug Gi-hun who is already standing as she reached him.

Gi-hun accepted it and embraced her just as tight, and lifted her up grazingly off the ground. As he set her down, he lightly patted her back before letting go.

“Congratulations.” He smiled at her. “I’m proud of you, Sae-byeok.”

“Thanks!” she beamed at him.

When she left, Gi-hun picked up his phone and messaged Woo-seok, confirming he would work as extra for the day on the weekend, two days from now, on behalf of Sae-byeok. It didn’t take long and Woo-seok provided the basic information he needed: the time, the place, and how long their work would take.

It seemed he would just help out cleaning an old condominium apartment where an occupant had died. Not at the place itself, since most of the belongings were already cleared by relatives, but it still required a thorough cleaning.

Woo-seok worked a lot of part-time jobs and was coming closer to a clean life after being a loan shark before. He was doing great even if he still hadn’t found the exact job to stick to, often jumping from one opportunity to another and dragging along, offering chances to people in need—like Sae-byeok and the other employees in Sang-woo’s restaurant.

Gi-hun had met him at the restaurant and easily befriended him, as he was such a talkative and warm person. He even hired him from time to time at the pink hotel, which didn’t have a lot of regular employees to begin with. If someone had a sudden shift change or the hotel was fully booked during seasonal occasions, Woo-seok was quite the handyman.

Gi-hun didn’t think much about his upcoming part-time job, he had experience with this type of work before landing at and staying in the pink hotel.

It’s been more than a year since then—since he left In-ho.

He had left his job at the company, along his short-lived friends and home there. He’d been trying to move on and forget about him, but really… he can’t. Memories, or a simple thought of In-ho, always still came flashing from time to time.

It wasn’t haunting. It wasn’t depressing anymore—except during those first months, struggling to adapt to the life he had to restart… new and alone.

Maybe he missed him. Missed the good times they had shared.

Maybe he still felt reluctant and regretful over leaving him, worried about the state he had left him in.

And maybe… maybe he was a little infuriated at how they had ended things.

I’m freeing you, Gi-hun...

That was all In-ho had said.

He had brought him their original copy of the pet contract, torn in half and crumpled but still kept. He had also brought another certificate, a proof that his debt to In-ho had been fully cleared.

And last, he handed him a termination notice from his work as In-ho’s personal attendant, accompanied by a generous separation pay—five months’ worth of pay, even though Gi-hun had worked there for barely two months. The suddenness of his firing had been considered, and perhaps… maybe In-ho was just spoiling him, as usual, or maybe he simply wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

He handed it to Gi-hun. His freedom.

He had never had the chance to make a choice. In-ho once again made it on his behalf, and even when he no longer abided by their pet contract, Gi-hun’s mouth had stayed shut, accepting it as what In-ho had chosen for him.
There was sincerity in his choice and actions. Gi-hun understood that—felt that. Still, despite it all, he was left with questions. And maybe that was the reason he had not fully moved on.

Was it clear when he admitted he was in love with him? He had never said it in exact words, but there was no other meaning when he confessed he had fallen for him. And somehow, thinking about it, Gi-hun never really heard In-ho’s answer to his feelings. He had technically been dumped that night. Which conflicted with every word, every gesture of how maddeningly consumed In-ho had seemed with him. And yet… perhaps he was only a need to him—not love.

He really hadn’t said it, huh. Maybe he truly didn’t have those same feelings for Gi-hun to begin with. Maybe it had all just been twisted obsession and comfort, morphed too close to love. Too close but never quite. Never ever since it has been love.

And maybe thinking of it that way stung a little.

He left. Slowly, speechless. They didn’t bid goodbye. It was painful to say.
As he stepped out, free but lost, he found himself taking steps with no direction, just walking onwards. The sun was setting. His stomach grumbles, or he just noticed it now that he was conscious of the time that had passed. He turned around and continued walking back until he reached Sang-woo’s restaurant and sat at the farthest corner.

He was greeted by his friend and they had a glimpse of a worried look to see him with packed bags. Still on duty, they simply went about their tasks, taking his order. Gi-hun did so, and he smiled faintly at Sae-byeok, who was attending him.
He started eating in silence. Until the rice tasted salty.

He was crying. Tears fell, but he never stopped eating. He tried to muffle his own voice by filling it with food, just so as not to disturb the other customers. He failed, of course, and the owner himself troubled to sit down beside him.
All Gi-hun managed to mutter through broken words was: “I got fired.”

From then on, Sang-woo and his friends at the restaurant became his main support as he fell apart. It was a slow, deteriorating climb to pick himself up from the pieces and stand again. But it helped that Sang-woo never stopped talking shit about him and his pathetic state every day while Gi-hun stayed in the restaurant quarters for the first week.

The others found their own ways to clear his headspace too. Ji-yeong would come early at dawn and push him to jog with her every other day. Sae-byeok would stay with him in the quarters after her shift, keeping him company while she worked on her school assignments, even tugging him for help with obvious questions. And Ali always took lunch with him, sharing homemade food, even pulling Gi-hun into video calls with his family during breaks.

And now he is back to his normal office life. Even with just two months of employment at In-ho’s company, he was issued a certification stating that his termination was due to overstaffing and that the position was subsequently abolished. It also served as a recommendation, which made his job hunting much easier, especially coming from a high-profile company.

The pink hotel he had been staying at, while not exactly a high-end establishment still managed to get by and pull in a decent number of customers. They were understaffed and couldn’t afford additional workers, but with Gi-hun helping out from time to time, even as the manager, it all worked out. Gi-hun knew he was overworking and going beyond his job scope, but he also needed to stay busy to divert his attention. Plus, his lodging was free as a benefit, and the place wasn’t far, just one cab ride away from Sang-woo’s.

He could say that, over time, he had worked just to survive and then, eventually, to really live. He could say he had healed in a way that cleared much of the weight he had been carrying. A different position gave him a new perspective on life. Despite his new coping habit of overworking, he wasn’t completely isolating himself and would willingly go out to hang with others on occasion. His relationship with his daughter was also still intact, and he continued giving his share of funds to support her.

He could feel himself free.

As In-ho had wished him to be.

….

Saturday. 7:30 A.M.

Gi-hun was picked up by Woo-seok to the pink hotel for their cleaning job. Settling into the front passenger seat, he immediately brought out his tablet and started working, mainly checking and confirming reservations and bookings. There were some inquiries he had to answer, and he was managing some instructions to his staff, like incoming deliveries and preparations for future renovations.

His eyes twitched. Squinting against the sudden dizziness, he withdrew his gaze from the bullet points he was making on his tablet and turned it off.

Woo-seok slightly looked back at him, worried despite the smile plastered on his face.

“You should not use your phone or tablet while in the car,” he said. “Your work can wait. And isn’t this supposed to be your day off? You shouldn’t even be working,” he questioned him.

He returned his gaze straight to the road. “You also need to get glasses,” he said, pressing his lips together to hold back a chuckle. “You’ve been staring at your tablet too close for normal,” he explained.

Gi-hun leaned in the window as he pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it to ease the built-up tension.  He being overworked and with his old age are catching up to him physically. Great. Squinting, he grabbed his tablet and returned it to his bag.

“Are we close?” he questioned, now blinking as he watched the passing familiar view outside to adjust and ease his sight.

“Yeah. Almost there. It’s just around the next turn,” Woo-seok answered.

Gi-hun stretched his neck a little, taking the strain out, as he hadn’t thought much of the driver’s answer. He stopped completely as they turned and saw Sang-woo’s restaurant.

“Wait. Wait. Wait—where are we?” he panicked.

Woo-seok was worried at his reaction but never stopped driving.

“In a customer’s place. Wait… oh—yeah,” he answered again as they entered the back of the building and drove into the parking area.

“Sorry… you’re busy all this time with your work. I don’t want to interrupt. The original work got canceled and was change here in this building—” he explained, still trying to focus as they are passing through the registration booth.

Gi-hun was horrified. After all—

“We’re here for Mr. Hwang’s penthouse cleaning appointment. Here, this is our contract,” Woo-seok said, windows open, holding the papers to the attendant at the booth.

“Choi Woo-seok!” Gi-hun screamed, and the man being yelled at shook at his threatening voice. Papers flew, and he held on to his chest for his dear heart, looking back at him.

The attendant had almost the same reaction, her eyes widening as she tried to peer at the person in the passenger seat.

Gi-hun gasped, breathing hard after that one scream.

“Sorry,” he muttered, still unmoving from the stiffness he had been in. “Sorry…” he repeated softer, apologetic. “Just move on and park.”

The two watched him as he adjusted in his seat, facing forward again like nothing had happened. Woo-seok and the attendant exchanged a knowing look. Then she picked up the documents that had been thrown and returned them. She nodded and prompted him to move onward, still with that face of suspicion and unsettlement at what they had witnessed in a fragment of seconds.

Woo-seok repeatedly glanced at Gi-hun, still wary but remaining silent, trying to read him before he got screamed at again. As he maneuvered into the parking space, it was only then that Gi-hun spoke again.

“I can’t go,” Gi-hun admitted. “Sorry, Woo-seok, this place…” he said, stopping mid-sentence.

“Oh shit. Is this—is he?” Woo-seok was shocked, hands covering his mouth as he figured out something.

Gi-hun just looked at him, silent and waiting anxiously.

“Is he your ex-boss?” he whispered, leaning in to Gi-hun as if it were a secret. “Sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, and I didn’t ask for more when I heard your friends talking about it on their break when I visited…” he explained.

“And what exactly did you hear?” Gi-hun calmly asked.

“Just that you got fired from a very well-acclaimed company…” he said. “And I also heard them saying it must have been an issue with the CEO… your boss… that got you fired,” he answered.

“Is he a bad guy?” His brows furrowed, fixed and serious as he stared at Gi-hun. “Your ex-boss, Mr. Hwang… that bad?” he added. “Or am I investing emotions into wrong assumptions again?”

Gi-hun found the last part funny, but his face remained stern and conflicted.

“Yes,” he replied, then blinked and shook his head. “No. I mean… it’s complicated. And I don’t want to see him yet.” He expressed.

Woo-seok frowned as he comprehended it. “Then would you feel comfortable enough to proceed with work if I can assure you that the owner had scheduled not just one day of cleaning but three days? And it is because he would be out of town for a whole week. So there’s no one in the penthouse but us,” he disclosed. “If you still decide not to go with me, I will cancel this day and report the circumstances, then reschedule to start the clean-up tomorrow instead. No worries, these things happen. I’ll just have to make a report letter and wait for approval.” He assured him.

Gi-hun thought for a second and composed his self. “You sure? The owner’s out?” he confirmed.

Woo-seok nodded, smiling. “Yes. Look, I got the key card pass for the main entry and some of the room keys.” He scrambled, pulling his bag from the back seat and taking out the said keys. “I was ordered to just enter and work. No one would be in there to watch the cleaning.”

Gi-hun listened, but something caught his eyes that made his heart lurch in his chest. He took it from Woo-seok’s hand to make sure. Colors were scrubbed out and some faded. The plated steel was dented on the edges and had a lot of scratches all over, but it was still intact as he had remembered it.

He found himself smiling as he held it and pressed his finger, caressing it, withdrawing for a short moment.

“Oh that?” Woo-seok uttered, catching back his attention. “That’s a weird keychain, isn’t it?” he laughed lightly. “Do you know what that means?” he asked.

Gi-hun simply shook his head as to answer no. He doesn’t know even after a year has passed, and now it still holds a lingering warming memory. Even though he had pushed himself back to his impassive face, he can feel a pull on the edge of his lips tugged by emotions he has been holding.”

It was the keychain they won in the arcade. The 457 keychain.

“That’s the main bedroom’s key,” Woo-seok declared.

Gi-hun just stared at his company, then back down to the key. His hold firmer for short seconds before he flip his grip and returned it to Woo-seok’s palm.

“Ok. I’ll go.”

…

Entering his old home, nostalgia flooded through him. He took steps through the familiar hallway that had always been dim. He slowly followed Woo-seok but paused, turning back to take a glimpse at the corner of the door. His stare lingered a bit too long.
“Gi-hun, you okay?” Woo-seok called out, already a few steps ahead.
Gi-hun faced him and nodded. “Yes. Let’s head on.”

Woo-seok insisted he would start cleaning the guest room as requested, since it had been used the most and needed the most attention.
Hyun-ju… or maybe his brother, Gi-hun thought.

Woo-seok left the key in the living room and let Gi-hun check for himself wherever he felt like starting. They didn’t need to finish everything; Woo-seok would be returning over the next two days, and he’d have another co-worker with him.

Left alone, Gi-hun found himself lured and unable to resist going to his old room. He passed through the kitchenette first, which was left open. He entered. The same. Nothing seemed to have changed, except the extra fridge In-ho had put in since he stayed was now gone. He opened the fridge. Still the same. Almost empty. Just water bottles. He felt displeased, thinking of In-ho’s old self-neglect habits. In-ho was returning to what he had been before they met—bad appetite and an eating schedule that was the least of his priorities. He sighed and closed it.

Then, the coffee maker. It would have caught his attention with its familiar presence, stirring up memories. Instead, what lay beside it made him stop. It was his mug. Broken handle. A small chip on the rim. Set aside on the countertop, it held a single pink camelia, surrounded by forget-me-nots. His green cup was barely full, the flowers not arranged perfectly or neatly. It just existed, nice and oddly, created by hands that had only touched paper documents. Nonetheless, it was beautiful.

He last checked his trash bin, but it had nothing to uncover—same dried flowers and a few water bottles. So he left and head onward to his used-to-be bedroom.

He unlocked the door, something he had never done in this room before. He was used to it always being open. Upon entering, just two steps from the doorway; he slowly took everything in, glancing at the familiar place. Even the scent—it was the same. Aside from linens and curtains, all difference he saw was an additional space for a writing table at one of the corners of the room, everything else is just as he had left it.

Scanning further, his eyes landed on the couch near the window closest to the bed. He walked fast and lifted the thing he had assumed was facing the glass window. Holding it up brought a smile to him as it confirmed his assumption.

“Squidy!” he softly exclaimed, trying to contain his surge of excitement over his reunion with his plushie.

He smiled, then hugged it like he had the very first time he held it. Squeezing it and pressing his face against its body.

“Did In-ho take care of you?” he questioned, holding it up high, beaming at it. “Seems so…” he muttered as he eyed it. There was evident discoloration and slight deformity from its original, but it was clean and… smelled like In-ho. Heat flushed through his face, and he forcefully shook the thought—and his plushie—away, returning it to the seat, but facing him this time.

“Good for you, Squidy. Looks like you guys reconciled and bonded without me,” he remarked. “And you must be taking care of him too when I’m away, hm?” he said, melancholic, patting its barely pointed head. “Thank you.”

Soon he started to roam around the room more. There was honestly barely any dirt or dust to clean. He went to the new furniture in the room, seeing papers, a pen, and something else that needed piling. Below, there was also a small trash bin he wanted to check before returning and gathering trash bags to collect everything.

It was a bunch of blank papers and his pen. He collected and stacked them together neatly and set them aside. The other thing—something he probably shouldn’t have seen. He gripped it with his hands, lightly panicking over what to do with it. Dropping his gaze, he saw the drawer in the table. A key was still hanging on it. He was conflicted, but he couldn’t leave the thing on the table with the probability of Woo-seok seeing it. So, he decided to just hide it in the drawer, despite overstepping and breaching the privacy of their client—In-ho’s. He would just slip it in fast and safe. He wouldn’t pry any further.

And it was a mistake.

He stared at the drawer’s insides and held his breath. He settled the thing inside—where it was supposed to be, closed it hurriedly, and locked it.

He scurried away, arms crossed, trying to process what he saw. That was wrong—what he did. But what it… what all of it… He heaved a deep breath, calming himself.

He wasn’t sure what it really was. He just feels bad for his inappropriate actions. If it were a different person, cleaning it up wouldn’t be an issue. So, he just had to be one. He’d ignore it and pretend he never saw it. He’d be a normal passing maintenance worker who cleaned things.

He ran to his plushie once again to seek comfort. Sitting on the couch, he hugged and pressed his face one more time against it.

“Squidy, this place is so messy. All the wrong things I’m finding—I don’t know how to clean it,” he murmured.

Gi-hun pulled his face, frowning as he intently gazed at its sparkling smile at him.

“Why keep silent… you siding with him now?” he grumbled on the squid.

Gi-hun sighed. He leaned in the window as he swiped the curtain and watched the view outside. He lifted his feet in socks above the couch, still clutching his stuffed squid between his chest and thighs.

Too consumed, it was too late for the part-timer to react.

The owner had returned.

Chapter Text

Gi-hun

Everything stopped.

As soon as In-ho made stepped back into his room, eyes were pulled to the presence that shouldn’t have been there.

Taken. Consumed.

It was never an option not to be drawn as he was enraptured with the gaze taking back its claim on him. His.

As always… as he had left him. In-ho’s always been his.

Gi-hun

Air leaving his lungs. Lips parted, but never a word left, not even a breath. It all retain in his throat accumulating and choking his life as he felt everything breakdown from the stillness of taking in what he’s seeing.

Gi-hun

He continued to stare, never blinking, never wasting a millisecond just to hold him even afar.

In between his mind echoed a name he never once uttered for a very long time in fear trying to be carried by the power it held over him.

Gi-hun

His mind echoed louder.

Too loud but the cry never broke through the void of the room. 

His mouth open a little more but instead of mouthing the name of person he have been sinfully yearning, a hitch of breath, too painful and sharp is only what his body manage to release.

Gi-hun..

Gi-hun..

No..

He can feel the compulsion. He can feel the hurt, physically twisting his insides, as he cried out the name deep within. But his body cowardly stayed, too scared to break the fragile presence of taking another step closer to the one he longs.

To ruin him as he had always been just by co-existing.

Gi-hun…

Another painful cry shook his whole being. Hands trembling and his knees felt giving in if he stayed in the same agonizing state. He takes a scrambling three steps. Knees buckled midway almost fail him, but he reaches the end of his bed and sat.

He fearfully returned his gaze to him, afraid he would vanish in seconds of him leaving his sight. Fingers shaking gripped to the edge of the bed as he felt his body sway lightly from dizziness.

Gi-hun

He cried out once more, broken. All still in silence. All still just in him.

A sting in his eyes as he felt tear welling up. Overwhelming emotions or physical strain of never closing his sight just for this moment, it doesn’t matter.

His breath grew uneven. Short and stammering. One of his elbows gave in, bent. Palm slide from where it tried to cling to slowly sliding to the soft sheets and gradually letting his body collapse.

A déjà vu. A vivid delusion.

It feels so real that it ruins him this badly for just a stationary hallucination using his old memories to make him suffer.

It was there, exactly their first night. In-ho lies in this same cold bed, and find the warm presence of the stranger he randomly welcomed to his home. Gi-hun. He sat in that exact couch staring in same longingly gaze at the window and then—

He called him. Ordered him.

But this time his voice has failed him. This time he can’t muster to call his name out loud. This time they are not bound by anything for him to make a choice for him as he wanted. Instead, like before… like how it played out before… he weakly patted the empty place beside him.

Two taps. Almost looking like just tremors of fingers as he made the gesture.

This unexpected warped episode he was having was torturous. But despite the ache, despite what it meant for his therapy and a whole year of healing going down the drain—this moment of feeling like he was back at zero—he’d take this figment and accept surrender. Only this one time.

Gi-hun,

I missed you.

It hurts missing you.

It never stopped.

Never ever since.

I’m sorry—I miss you.

Would his yearning be enough to make this dream—this nightmare—for the molded apparition to ease him? Or will it retain in same distance and corner like a ghost haunting him.

In-ho watched. Waited.

Tears falling in his eyes soaking the bed sheet his face lay into.

Gi-hun remained on his seat. Unmoving. Staring back in same intensity.

Pretty. He’s so pretty.

In-ho had thought as he gazed at him even with his tears clouding his sight.

It hurts me too seeing you like that.

Was it pity? Or was it my over my tears?

Gi-hun…

Don’t be.

I don’t deserve it.

Please…

Even in my own lies of delusion you’re being kind.

In-ho gasped. A pained inhale. He choked and started coughing.

Terrified of losing sight of what he held most important, he panicked, hurriedly forcing himself to recompose. In the midst of gathering himself, a weight sank down beside him. A hand found his trembling one, a thumb brushing gently over his knuckles.

Peering slowly with his still tear drowned eyes, he saw Gi-hun lay in bed an inch away from him.

Gi-hun’s eyes are for him only. And it made him weak. Subjugated.

Gi-hun gripped loosens. Withdraw.

In-ho felt a pang of ache at the second of tasting a skin contact only to be let go as fast as it had lingered.

But soon, each finger slipped in, filling the gaps of his palm. Held him once more—more intimate, more secure. Even as In-ho’s fingers spread and trembled, unable to cling as tight, Gi-hun’s hold was enough for the both of them.

Then a breath of air shifted. Gi-hun’s face moved halfway closer. A visually invisible difference in gap, but In-ho felt it, and was sure of the intent.

He closed the remaining distance. Until there was none. Only the sweet, chaste reunion of their lips. Soft. Tender. Longing.

As he blinked, tears gushed. His lips trembled undeniably between Gi-hun’s. The hand being held returned the same grip, holding out for support.

He gasped and pulled away for a breath, noting Gi-hun was still there. So tangible. Painfully real—enough to scare him, yet he couldn’t stop himself from indulging, pouring himself out over this illusion that accompanied him.

His breathing never subsided. Still minced. Still unraveling under being overstimulated by the irrationally distinct heat, scent, and taste he was receiving.

Too much and yet not enough.

He leaned in once more, reconnecting their mouths. Opened. Entered. He inhaled Gi-hun’s breath as if it were his own. Took it. Claimed it.

Gi-hun’s lips were wetter this second time. Their mouths moved with desperate urgency, kneading into shared desire. In-ho’s teeth grazed the plumpness, teasing the edges of his control and sanity. Tears spilled, dripping between their heated mouths. He let it sink in, let it drown them, before sucking, tasting the sharp salt tangled with Gi-hun’s mouth.

And even with this exchange, it had never satiated the echoes in his head. It made him spiral more. It was no longer just voices inside yearning—his whole being screamed for the man he was holding. He couldn’t control it. His body couldn’t contain it. Panic swelled.

Gi-hun pulled away, leaning his forehead to his. Nose touching.

“Breathe with me… In-ho,” he whispered, taking a deliberate inhale.

In-ho saw Gi-hun close his eyes. He followed—in fear—in trust.

Gi-hun lightly brushed his thumb in the same rhythm as his breathing. In-ho could even feel each heave of breath as his shoulder grazed his on each cycle.

He could feel his body letting go—sinking further on the bed, tilting and relaxing closer to Gi-hun. His intake of air instinctively mimicked the man holding him.

From broken gasps to deeper, smoother breaths. His body getting better.

This would be the time. When he opened his eyes, it would be just an empty, cold space—just him alone. So he kept his eyes closed, trying to cling to this feeling longer before it was gone. Before Gi-hun left him again.

Warm hand cupped his face, fingers pressed to his cheek. It gently wiped his tears away. The edge of his nail brushed his eyelids as it touched the corners of his eyes, lingering on the spills of tears. In-ho’s eyes fluttered open.

“Gi-hun?” he uttered. Aloud, and real this time. The name he had tried so hard not to let pass his lips, as if it were a sin.

There was a pause. In-ho watched, waiting anxiously.

“Yes,” Gi-hun answered.

In-ho completely stopped breathing. Gi-hun watched as the color in his face drained. His eyes still staring at him, but slowly blackening to empty, zoning away from the reality he was caught in.

His mouth opened, and a short, strained, incomprehensible sound escaped him in shock. He rolled away out of bed.

Gi-hun was still processing everything, confused, as if it had been some glitch, and now In-ho was gone.

Until he groaned in pain.

“Oh! Fuc—Ouc!” In-ho grunted.

Gi-hun rushed across the bed, crawling to where he fell, trying to check on him.

In-ho winced, crouched on the floor, clutching his right shoulder tightly.

“You okay?” Gi-hun asked, concerned, reaching out his hand. “Here… grab my hand.”

In-ho stopped. Ignoring the pain he was in, he stared at Gi-hun, hurt—not by the physical pain he was currently enduring, but a hurt closer to betrayal.

“You—” In-ho started. “You are real,” he said bitterly, disappointed.

“What do you mean?” Gi-hun asked, trying to make sense of In-ho’s actions from the start, and now his furious, accusatory tone—a mixture of irony and contradiction. “Did you expect… hope it was someone else?” he asked, trying not to let any emotional depth slip into his voice. Or at least not to sound hurt at In-ho’s reaction.

“No—no. It’s just that… why are you even here!? And THAT—” he exclaimed, distressed.

“We kissed.”  In-ho’s voice dropped to a near whisper.

Gi-hun watched as his pale face flushed pink, his eyes darting away. The undeniably shy, embarrassed expression, paired with his sprawled state on the floor, was something new, even for Gi-hun, and it amused him. But his statement carried far more concerning matters to address.

“Did you think I was a hallucination?” Gi-hun asked, trying to navigate In-ho’s statement. Whether In-ho had assumed it was him from the beginning or someone else entirely, or even if he meant that kiss—he had indirectly taken advantage of his confusion.

Gi-hun felt both guilty and hurt.

“Sorry… I seem to have exploited your situation,” Gi-hun admitted sincerely.

In-ho felt conflicted at how Gi-hun had taken things. Hurt and troubled.

No. It was you. It’s been you I’ve been thinking of and seeing since I stepped in.

It’s you—your illusion version I meant to cling to for comfort.

It’s you I’ve yearned for, Gi-hun.

Just not you.

Not The real you.

Because that would be wrong.

“Never mind that… what are you thinking, returning here?” In-ho asked in a much calmer voice, denying his own turmoil. He cast a remorseful glance at Gi-hun for a few seconds before diverting his eyes elsewhere.

“Got tangled in a part-time job to clean your place,” Gi-hun explained simply.

“In-ho… you seem to have really had a bad fall. You can’t be serious, staying like that on the floor all this time?” he insisted, peering down at him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m comfortable,” In-ho claimed.

Gi-hun paused, staring at him and his ridiculousness, displeasure and fury bubbling.

In-ho saw it but disregarded it. His gaze darted immediately away from Gi-hun’s. "It’s nothing serious. It’s not dislocated or anything—just a bad stretch," he pointed out, tightening his grip on his shoulder. "It’ll heal on its own in a day or two…" he added.

In-ho could feel Gi-hun’s frustration toward him before he could even speak.

“You won’t even let go of your shoulder! And you won’t even be able to sit on your own!” Gi-hun said sharply. “Just let me help—”

“No!” In-ho shouted back, eyes resolute, staring at Gi-hun. “I said I’m fine—here,” he announced.

Gi-hun remained silent.

“Sorry,” In-ho apologized softly, withdrawing his gaze once again. “I just need space… I’d appreciate distance,” he admitted, trying to be clear.

He understood. Gi-hun did. It was the same In-ho he had left that day after all—the one who thought being apart was the solution for the mess he had created. In-ho meant well. In-ho decided it. And Gi-hun had no say about it. Just like before.

Those thoughts triggered and stirred something in him, but he remained silent.

Instead, Gi-hun crawled back to the middle of the bed and slumped his body. He crossed his arms and legs, settling comfortably. His face couldn’t help but frown, furious—but that was alright; it wouldn’t be seen by someone who wouldn’t even want to see him at the same level.

“Fine. You stay on that cold floor as you insist,” Gi-hun stated.

He adjusted his pillow higher—not just for comfort, but also to sneak a glance at the man-child below. He could still see In-ho’s hold on his arms, up to his shoulder. In-ho flinched at his own hold and slowly massaged his shoulder joints.

Gi-hun watched him, unable to stop the worry. Not because it was In-ho, but because he was a decent human being who cared when someone got hurt. He had to remind himself of that, so he could freely care.

“Why’d you even return?” Gi-hun asked. “The maintenance I’m with claimed no one would be here. That’s why I even considered coming,” he explained.

Gi-hun watched the figure below move, head turning toward the far-right corner of the room where his new table was located. In-ho didn’t answer, but Gi-hun already knew.

“Did you read it?” In-ho asked, still looking at the table, seeing something he had intentionally returned for was no longer there. “Did you read my letters?” he asked again.

“No,” Gi-hun simply answered, letting go of his attention to In-ho and looking up at the ceiling instead. “I sealed it and hid it in the drawer. I didn’t want my friend to see a letter addressed to me and start asking questions. But—I also unintentionally saw everything else… Those were a lot of bundles of letters,” he muttered.

“Was it all really for me?”

Gi-hun heard him let out a deep breath.

“No. None of it,” In-ho answered. “They were meant to be not delivered.”

Gi-hun was silent.

“They’re part of my therapy,” In-ho admitted.

Gi-hun took another glimpse at him. His hand gripped for support, and his thumb pressed lightly on his shoulder, easing the strained nerves. He could see In-ho’s hand in a fist, shaking.

“Your therapist suggested that?” he finally asked, trying to continue the conversation.

“No,” In-ho answered. “I suggested it. And she approved of it, but we’re also trying to lessen it and completely let go of this habit over time,” he shared.

“I’m sorry for indirectly using you again… and without consent,” In-ho murmured apologetically.

Gi-hun was curious, but at the same time, it was too confidential and sensitive a thing to discuss—no, importantly because of him likely being a huge part of it. He’d just accept whatever In-ho was comfortable sharing with him. Or even if he didn’t at all.

“It was just my way to process things,” In-ho explained.

“We started from the very roots of my issues, beginning with my childhood… It was eye-opening and relieving. It felt good to be seen,” he confessed. “To acknowledge myself and my flaws… to understand what basic needs I was deprived of and what it had caused me to adapt to my environment—” He continued, then sighed.

“It all rooted deeply in me and affected what I am now, my logic, my decisions—my life…”

“Then—I have to tell about you—us.” In-ho stopped.

“It—being recent then—was overwhelming for me. I don’t know where to start without spiraling into self-blame. I felt drowned in guilt that we had to stop,” he revealed. “She said we have to process it slowly and little by little so I can handle it, and even learn a thing or two as she walks me through it. So… we started from day one… from the very beginning I met you.”

In-ho took a break to breathe. He’d been sniffing, his throat rasped, and he was evidently having difficulty speaking—choking and gasping between lines of his talking.

He was crying again. Gi-hun didn’t have to see it for himself to know. He heard him enough, and it’s not that In-ho was hiding it.

“You don’t have to tell me everything, In-ho,” Gi-hun assured him, finding his own voice stricken, his throat feeling constricted by his own emotions building up. He wanted to give a few more words of assurance but refrained from speaking, not with his current state and cause the opposite effect of comforting him.

“It’s alright. You deserve an explanation. I’d like it to be clear… so there won’t be any misunderstanding,” In-ho insisted.

Gi-hun no longer responded. He just shifted to his sides, facing where In-ho lay on the floor despite not seeing him. He grabbed one of the pillows and hugged it.

“I—I tried to remember how we first met. I made bullet points. Then I also made a detailed time-stamped retelling table. It doesn’t feel right,” he continued once again.

“Rather than remembering the details… I tried to remember my feelings. How you came exactly at the time I needed—at the brink of my collapse, always looming, needing just one push to break. You came, and you’ve been my coping mechanism. But my indulgence and obsession turned into a bad coping mechanism. And instead of helping me, I dragged you along with me,” he admitted.

“And before I could process it, my therapy exercises… my homework, turned into a litany of daily declarations about us. Reliving each moment in the third person, at a safer distance for me. It was easier… but it didn’t stop me from feeling emotional. And again—I turned to you. I spoke about it with you. It was like reflecting with the comfort of being heard, even if I never got a response.” He took a breath.

“So it all ended up as letters—for you.”

Gi-hun held his hand to his mouth as he calmed himself and evened out his breathing, listening to In-ho’s torn and quivering confessions.

“Putting things into ink, words I can’t erase. I can only reread them, gain a better understanding of actions that were already made,” he said.

“I saw myself once again falling for you, ruining you a second time. Letting the pain flourish, letting each wrongdoing be open, letting it be seen—by me. Acknowledging not just what’s comfortable but being comfortable to be not. Then I sealed it. Not to conceal… but to move past it.”

In-ho loudly groaned, pushing the strain out of his throat forcefully. Gi-hun took a glimpse of him below and saw him wiping his tears with his undamaged arms.

“And the recent one? The one I saw unsealed?” Gi-hun asked, not to pry but just to respond and show that he had heard everything. He didn’t care about being used as he saw it—he was more concerned with In-ho’s comfort.

“It’s…” In-ho started, then paused, thinking carefully before continuing. “It’s me sharing random, mundane things happening in my life.”

Oh.

“It’s been a habit… I’m still working on stopping it completely,” he admitted.

“My therapist insists I go out more… not for business, and with people not tied to it as well. So… Jun-ho stayed with me for a few months, and Hyun-ju scheduled some vacation for us to spend together. I even met a new friend at my therapy session—he’s a bit quirky, weird, but fun too,” In-ho shared. Gi-hun noticed a lighter tone, and it made him feel better as well.

“That’s good to hear,” Gi-hun remarked, finding himself smiling. “Seems you’re doing well overall, with good friends and life,” he added.

Gi-hun genuinely felt happy for In-ho. He did. But as he let it sink in, a twinge of sadness pricked at him.

“And you?” In-ho asked. “Aside from part-time cleaning jobs?”

“I’m a manager at a small hotel,” Gi-hun answered simply. “I’m doing okay too… just taking part-time jobs to help out.”

“That’s… nice to know,” In-ho muttered. “And friends? You have friends like the ones in the restaurant downstairs, right?” He asked, concerned that Gi-hun was not just doing well at work, but also outside with people who supported him.

“Yes.” Gi-hun smiled wider this time at the thought of his friends, feeling more at ease. “I hang out with them even if they cause trouble and push me a lot to go on da—” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing his slip. The silence became unsettling. “They’re just a bunch of kids who love to prank,” he added.

Still, In-ho had no reaction—just complete, eerie silence.

Gi-hun pulled himself back and sat up, hugging the pillow in his lap. He tried to peer down, but even sitting, he couldn’t see In-ho’s face unless he scooted closer.

This is weird. Why is he worried about something as trivial as a few dates?

“By the way… I realized you use the keychain we won as this bedroom’s key,” he noted, trying to divert the conversation.

He could hear In-ho shift a little; his clothes rustled as he moved.

“Well… you claimed the grand prize, so I’ve taken it as my keep,” In-ho answered.

“Squidy?” Gi-hun exclaimed. “But I left him… he’s practically yours, not mine.”

“You can take him home today then,” In-ho offered.

Gi-hun remembered how he had hugged it today—how it smelled like In-ho—and now this tempting offer made him hesitate.

“No. No, thank you. But it seems Squidy is settling nicely with you already… and I believe you’re taking good care of him and even have at least a bit of attachment,” he said, pushing back.

In-ho was silent again for the nth time in their conversation. But this time, Gi-hun felt he had caught him on something that made him speechless. What could it be?

“Why is Squidy on the couch, by the way? It’s a body pillow. Do you still hate it? Then why keep it close instead of hiding it?” Gi-hun asked.

Again, no answer.

“Did you really get attached to it?” Gi-hun guessed, prompting a soft, low chuckle.

“Shut up,” In-ho mumbled—but Gi-hun’s filtered chuckle turned into full-blown laughter.

“Sorry. It’s just—funny to me, thinking about your threats of grilling it before… but it seems Squidy grew on you,” he laughed more. “But… I’m still confused. Why put him away now?” he asked, serious even amid his giggles.

“I’m gradually detaching from it,” In-ho stated lowly, ashamed and bitter.

Gi-hun’s laughter echoed as he started covering his mouth with his hands. “And all you get from a year of detachment from Squidy is just six steps away from your bed!?” he laughed again, not intending to mock In-ho but unable to stop noticing Squid’s allure overtaking him.

“Did your therapist suggest it?” Gi-hun asked, trying to sit straighter and catch his breath. His question was genuinely concerned.

“No. It’s just me. I never told anyone about Squidy except Hyun-ju,” he said.

“Sorry if I’ve taken it too far,” Gi-hun breathed out. “But… if Squidy brings you comfort, I wouldn’t want to take that away. And really, it’s just a plushie… almost every child has attachments to toys, and being an adult doesn’t eliminate that if it matters to you.” He smiled, glancing at In-ho’s visible side.

“Just do me a favor and let Squidy do his job and be your normal body pillow,” Gi-hun added.

When the excitement in his body finally subsided, and In-ho still remained silent for a while, Gi-hun started to crawl closer.

“In-ho?” he called softly. “Are you alright?”

In-ho finally sat but remained on the floor in the same spot he had fallen. His hold on his right shoulder was still firm as he looked down at the floor.

“How could you laugh at me?” he muttered in a low voice.

Gi-hun was taken aback, about to apologize—but In-ho finally looked up, stared straight at him, and spoke.

“How could you laugh and interact casually with me as if I did you nothing wrong?” he uttered.

Gi-hun understood his sentiment. He let it settle first, thinking through his answer before wording it out.

“Because I’ve long forgiven you for everything. And also, I think you need to forgive yourself too,” Gi-hun stated. “We both need to move onward. To live in the present and not be held by the past. We learned. We remember. And I think that’s enough.” He declared.

“I’m too old—we’re too old for drama, In-ho,” Gi-hun sighed, hugging the pillow in his lap again. “I’m happy I get to personally meet you again.” He glanced at In-ho, and this time In-ho didn’t pull away his gaze. “You made me worried sometimes, thinking you’d been gone for a while now and I’d never know.” He admitted.

“Not possible,” In-ho declared. “I’d be at least on national news if I really died,” In-ho claimed, a little too proud.

“I don’t take sassy answers from someone who can't even  sit on the same level as me,” Gi-hun answered back.

“And I don’t prefer sitting with someone who takes dating as just a child’s prank,” In-ho retorted.

That’s a critical hit.

Gi-hun was speechless for a while before he could process. After considering not talking further about such topics, knowing In-ho and his jealousy streak, this is what he got—a call out.

“It’s not like I’m the only one who did! Tell me you didn’t date at all this year,” Gi-hun dared.

“None of your business,” In-ho shot back.

“You—you’re the one who started mentioning it!” Gi-hun yelled.

“You slipped. I just repeated it. Your words,” In-ho clarified.

“You—“

“In-ho! The hell’s taking you so long? We finished the whole breakfast downstairs, and you still haven’t—“ Hyun-ju stepped back and stopped, her delicate finger pressing to his lips for cover. “Oh, shit—Am I disturbing? I shall—”

“Brother??” Jun-ho followed, calling out. “Is brother in—Oh.” He also stopped as he took in the situation in the room.

“Gi-hun!!!” A man rushed in, calling out, nearing the same room. “I heard voices—oh!” Woo-seok came in and stopped behind, between Hyun-ju and Jun-ho. He was mainly looking at the youngest man in the room, oblivious to the inner situation.

“Mr. Jun-ho!!” he repeated excitedly. “Weren’t you supposed to be on a fishing trip and to check the island for the event you’re planning for your uncle’s 100th birthday and his company’s anniversary? Why are you here?”

Jun-ho completely paled in his stance.

Hyun-ju grinned, stepping closer to the new man in the house, hindering Woo-seok’s entrance and also teasing him for amusement.

“How’d you know about the event? It’s publicized, but the plan of renting an island and us checking it today is supposed to be a secret, Mr.?” she pointed out.

“Oh—sorry. I didn’t know. I’m Choi Woo-seok. Just Woo-seok is fine, ma’am,” he smiled.

“And care to elaborate more, since Jun-ho seems to have lagged?” she teased.

“Ah! Mr. Jun-ho? Uh… well… he’s a police officer, and I have some background that got us acquainted—but I swear! I’m a changed man… so he recommends me some work sometimes,” Woo-seok explained.

“I got signed up to work on it as an attendant for a big company event, and me and my friends… Ah, I have my co-worker Gi-hun here too, to come… we signed him up as well, he’s just right h—“

“Oh, fuck.”

Chapter Text

2:15 PM

En route to Incheon ferry terminal aboard a mini yacht

30 minutes before arrival

“What are you doing?” Jun-ho asked as he found Hyun-ju busy texting, grinning suspiciously while leaning on the railings.

“Doing the lord’s work.” She stated glancing to him. “Upgrading myself from your brother’s therapist to his matchmaker. It’s time to fix the mess. I’m securing my spot as bridesmaid in your brother’s wedding,” Hyun-ju declared.

“What?” Jun-ho asked, confused. “With Gi-hun? But didn’t you see what they looked like?”

“Like Gi-hun flushed red and your brother smiling differently for once?”

“No? Like they had a fight and my brother was tossed on the floor? And maybe it even got physical, considering In-ho’s shoulder’s injured?” Jun-ho pointed out.

“You think they got physical? Hmm, I don’t doubt that.” She smiled maliciously, making Jun-ho grimace.

“Hyun-ju—I don’t know what you’re thinking, but my brother is basically down right now and sulking inside. Even the recruiter can’t annoy him.”

“Let him sulk like a kicked puppy, then. He’s kind of cute like that—throwing a tantrum over conflicted feelings instead of processing them. Don’t you find it amusing he’s like a child for once? Gi-hun brings him depth of feelings and emotions he never had. It’s good for him.”

Jun-ho groaned in defeat. “Just—don’t overstep too much. They’ll be together if it’s meant to be.”

“They are. And they will. But I won’t wait a millennium or for them to be nearing signing death certificates before they finally suck it up and step forward to acknowledge their feelings.” She dramatically groaned. “Especially that brother of yours.”

Jun-ho sighed. “Who are you even texting? Do I even want to know, or be part of this?”

Hyun-ju smiled sheepishly. “Oh please. You’ve already done your part by recommending that Woo-seok guy to apply for the week-long anniversary event. Gi-hun and his friends being tagged under your recommendation is likely how he got in so smoothly, even without applying personally.” She concluded. “HEY!! Good job for that!!” she take a moment to looked at him once again and beamed a smile.

Jun-ho frowned, horrified.

“I apologized to In-ho about that… told him I didn’t know my recommendation would tag his ex along,” Jun-ho started.

“He yelled at me, saying Gi-hun is not his ex.”

Hyun-ju just giggled.

“I mean, how can I know?” Jun-ho held the railings and bent over, looking down at the unending waves clashing on their boat. “It’s not agreed upon, but mentioning Gi-hun’s name to him is off-limits. And I don’t want to meddle, so I never try to ask more in respect of his recovery.” He heaved a breath. “The hell are they even? They’re obviously not just ex-employee and employer.” He whined.

“They are idiots. That’s what they are.” Hyun-ju stated. She clicked the send button and tucked her phone in her jacket. “Anyway… I’ve texted Jun-hee, your brother’s employee and the secretary’s wife, making sure they won’t pull out Gi-hun’s name from working at the anniversary event.”

“How on earth do you have such power over the company when you’re not even part of it?”Jun-ho questioned.

“Connections, girl power, and impulsive urges to fix hopeless romantic old gay men.”

“That’s—scary.”

“Oh yes, we are.” She grinned. “Besides, I don’t even have to pull many strings. Seems insiders are working things out for them too. They easily let Seong Gi-hun pass without even reporting to In-ho. Sure I’m not the only one.”

“Or maybe they just generally don’t care? It’s not like In-ho reprimanded him for being close, nor shut him out of the company. Being a generic part-timer for the event may not raise suspicion, so they didn’t report it. There are hundreds of applicants—they can’t trouble their CEO over menial stuff like picking applicants?”

“Maybe… but I doubt not one person raised an eyebrow over his name coming in for the event. Anyway, point is, I’ll make sure Gi-hun will be at the event.”

Jun-ho could only give up and sighed.

“You think I can have the recruiter play along too?” Hyun-ju teased.

“Please don’t.”

…

1 Day Before the Anniversary Event

The knob rattled and soon it was open.

Gi-hun was squeezed and pushed back as the two girls in their group ran inside the room, throwing their backpacks and luggage on the floor, heading straight to the balcony.

As soon as they opened the glass sliding door, the wind swept in and the smell of the salty beach filled their room. The two leaned on the balcony rail, seeing in the view—the surrounding sea, the vacation. They giggled excitedly, bouncing as they took everything in.

“Work!” Gi-hun smiled, smirking as Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok turned to look at him with annoyance. “We’re here for work,” he reminded them, still with the smile, purposely messing with the two girls.

“Way to kill the mood, old man.” Ji-yeong said, rolling her eyes as she walked back inside first. Sae-byeok followed her, but being taller, it was still visible how she pouted from behind. The two started collecting their scattered belongings.

Then Ali laughed. “Come on! Gi-hun is just joking!! Right?” he said, smiling at Gi-hun while already settling on one of the beds, inner side of a double bed. “It’s not like the work is all day. And there are specifically only two nights that we have to work. The other time is technically free to have fun!” he explained. “And Gi-hun will sure have fun with us too.” Ali diffused.

Gi-hun just walked past the other side of the double bed Ali was sitting on. As soon as his back faced the ladies, he only smiled more, making Ali sigh at him, and Woo-seok on the other end, closest to the wall single bed, chuckled as well.

“I won’t hold you from enjoying this place on breaks, but be responsible.” Gi-hun laid down his duffle bag on the bed. “No drinking heavily, or else we’ll all end up walking the plank or swimming back to the city for being lousy in our jobs.” He reprimanded, sitting on the edge of the side of the bed facing the two.

“I can’t even believe you all planned this without even consulting me, signing me up for a whole five-day job like it’s nothing.” He sighed, a little disappointed.

“But you still did come!!” Ji-yeong claimed.

“Yeah! It’s just five days! Not a whole month. You had a piling unused paid leave.” Sae-byeok added.

“That’s not the point, you guys.” Gi-hun rubbed the back of his neck, troubled and tired. “You should have asked me first. Rather than feeling good thinking of this as a surprise, I felt distress over the responsibility—my work at Pink Hotel and—this particular event being my old company’s anniversary—you know how I ended things with… it.” Gi-hun murmured.

“That’s on me, Gi-hun.” Woo-seok slipped in. “Your friends didn’t know. I just got too excited and disregarded the details over a paid trip, accommodation, and full expenses paid for a five-day job on an island for just being event staff to assist other employees.” He explained. “I told them, and the thing just flew into our heads… and we added you too.”

“It also never dawned on me that Hwang Jun-ho, the one who recommended me, is the brother of Hwang In-ho, and the event happening is Hwang Corp’s anniversary.” Woo-seok explained apologetically. “Sorry for causing you this burden, Gi-hun. And—for what happened on our cleaning job… if I ever caused you trauma.” He added dejectedly.

“It’s not—” Gi-hun interjected. “I’m fine. Me… and In-ho—my former employer. We’re fine.”

“But he got his shoulder broken and he was sitting on the floor—” Woo-seok added, obliviously concerned.

The two girls in the back looked at each other knowingly, a glint of a smirk on their faces. Ali saw them behind Gi-hun and subtly gave them a disapproving stare for their reactions, as Gi-hun’s attention was focused on Woo-seok.

“It’s—” Gi-hun’s voice pitched higher. “I have nothing to do with that!” He said defensively, trying to smooth his tone. “Just… just whatever you’re thinking, Woo-seok, it’s not that. We’re not in that kind of fight.” He took a moment to calm himself.

Ali clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention to mediate once again. “Well… we’re all here now. We should just be thankful the three weeks were enough for Gi-hun to manage and clear things up at his job so he could come with us. And next time, we should never do things impulsively, even if we mean well.” He declared.

Everyone fell silent.

“Gi-hun… you also don’t have to push yourself, reassuring us about your situation with your old boss. Even if it’s been a year…” He paused, gazing at Gi-hun. “We’ll just hope you never meet him—I mean, there’ll be too many attendees and he’ll be busy too, so it’s unlikely you’ll cross paths,” Ali explained carefully.

Gi-hun began to contemplate his situation, everyone’s concern, and their perception of him and In-ho.

“I’ll help and get you out if the situation arises,” Woo-seok assured him.

“No. Woo-seok—don’t. I… I can handle it alone.” Gi-hun said worriedly, feeling the situation get more complicated the more he kept things to himself.

Three weeks ago, he and In-ho met again. Their already messy conversation had been disrupted by the crowd and Woo-seok’s blurting out news. It was a shock for everyone, and everything happened in a flash without enough time for any of them to process it.

The trio was even in a hurry to leave after a call from Mr. Park demanding their whereabouts. They had no other choice but to leave, carrying new information troubling their future plans.

Jun-ho helped his brother, who flinched in pain as he was assisted.

Gi-hun called out to In-ho. Just his name. In-ho never turned his back nor responded. Instead, he asked Jun-ho to proceed to leave with him. Even as Jun-ho glanced back at Gi-hun reluctantly, the two still moved to leave.

As they passed the entryway, Gi-hun spoke again. “Have your shoulder checked.” He exclaimed, receiving only a brief pause in response before the steps continued onward.

Hyun-ju smiled at Gi-hun apologetically. No words, just pure plea for understanding. She left as well, leaving only a smile and saying, “See you guys at the event.”

It had still been three weeks. He could have simply called out and backed out of the signed-up job. In-ho even seemed not to want to see him or be with him. And it hurt.

He wanted to think things through. Coming or not to this felt like an important decision in his life.

He had asked Woo-seok to cancel his application if, after one week, he didn’t call back to confirm attendance.

He had always been thinking of how they had ended things before, and it made him think of the probability of his feelings being unrequited. But In-ho’s letters as he had claimed it made him feel like he was falling a second time to Gi-hun.

Falling…

In-ho had fallen for him.

It was mutual.

In-ho loved him.

Gi-hun could just cry, realizing that.

Even amidst the mess, their feelings still existed—for both of them.

For both of them, it existed.

It made him emotional. Overwhelmed.

Then the question—what about now?

What did In-ho feel now… especially with him pushing Gi-hun away?

And Gi-hun himself—what did he feel for In-ho now? What did he want to do about it?

He couldn’t deny the attraction and care were still there, strong. He had resolved not to disrupt their peace, since In-ho had chosen to free him before. But one step in, a few gaps closed, and In-ho’s alluring and pleading gaze pulled him completely.

He kissed him.

He was the one who leaned in and initiated it. He felt it, and he did it without thinking—like it was his nature. Like it was theirs.

Did he regret it? Yes, for In-ho had clearly seen something differently—not him entirely. A mistake. And also, no—he wouldn’t have changed it, even now, being aware of In-ho’s situation.

He felt he knew more, more than In-ho’s words and denial. His heart told him so. It was right. What they had was right.

And now he was here. Still no clear answers for himself. Just a longing to see In-ho once more, hear him, and maybe the last fragment he needed was In-ho himself—and it would lead him to his truth.

…

The first day of their work was purely orientation and helping out to set up props and the stage for the event. By the afternoon, employees had started to arrive in batches. Around eight ferries were lining up at the port, and lines of people streamed out, heading straight to their hotels.

The company had rented the three largest hotel resorts for employees and guests, and another smaller hotel for the hired staff to accommodate them.

When the sunset had started, and they were mostly done with their work, Gi-hun stopped to just stand and watch the sky turn from shades of orange and dark pink to violet, taking a deep breath to take it all in.

“Gi-hun!!”

A voice called from behind, but a slap hit him before he could even turn around.

“Geum-ja!!!” Gi-hun exclaimed, following with a hug for the small elderly woman who held him tightly.

“Yong-sik!!” He added, hugging him as well and patting his back.

“Jung-bae told us you’d be here,” she said, slapping his arm again while grinning widely. “Boy, look at you…” She spoke softly, now holding both his sides. “You never messaged us after you left! And Jung-bae refused to talk about your contacts and whereabouts. We were so worried!!!” She squeezed him lightly.

“There were so many rumors about why you left!! They never stopped. They just grew more and more ridiculous, especially with how the CEO reacted after you left,” she added.

“In-ho?” His tone broke with concern.

Geum-ja nodded. “Yes. Since you left, multiple odd people have come in and out of his office.”

Gi-hun wasn’t sure if he should know this, but he was intrigued anyway, wanting to ease something in him. His silence was enough for her to continue. Until another group arrived suspending their conversation.

“Sir Gi-hun!!!” Dae-ho called out, running with his backpack bouncing on his back, while Jung-bae followed slowly behind, smiling.

Gi-hun hugged them both as they reached him.

“Mom, shouldn’t we go and check in at the hotel already and rest?” Yong-sik chimed in.

Geum-ja grumbled and shook off Yong-sik clinging to her. “There’s going to be a long line in the lobby. Let’s just stay here and take a break with Gi-hun. I want to catch up with him.” she grumbled.

Gi-hun chuckled. “Let me carry your bag, ma’am. Let’s settle at one of the tables and order some drinks if you’d like. My treat,” he offered.

Soon they settled at one of the beach hut tables. Gi-hun ordered fruit punches for them from a nearby stall, clocking out at the same time while waiting. Once he returned with their drinks, the string of lights decorating the edge of the roof of every hut lit up.

Then a snap.

Gi-hun looked and saw Jun-hee taking a photo of him, with Myung-gi behind her carrying their child in a strap across his chest.

“Jun-hee…” Gi-hun smiled warmly at her and glanced at the child beside her. “Little Jun-hee…” he said, stepping near and leaning down to glimpse at the sleeping baby in a pink onesie and knitted bonnet.

Gi-hun softly poked one of the baby’s cheeks, careful not to disturb her sleep. “Cutie…” he whispered.

“Let’s take more pictures!!” Jun-hee exclaimed, holding out her phone for another selfie with the group at the table, adjusting the angle. Everyone posed and smiled, some raising their drinks for the second shot.

“I’ll post it on the company’s socials,” Jun-hee said. “I’ll tag you all. And you guys should take more pictures too. Aside from it being an order from higher-ups for the highlight reel at the end of the event, our stay is also a collaboration to promote the island experience,” she clarified.

The couple took more candid and quirky photos with everyone but soon left as the baby had woken up and started crying. Within minutes, the photos were already online, and the likes were climbing.

Gi-hun leaned in, checking the photos as Jung-bae hold it for him. One highlighted like caught his eye—the CEO.

Hwang In-ho had liked Jun-hee’s post. The top picture showed was her photo of  Gi-hun’s side profile, with the blurred lights around every hut. He was smiling. Small, happy.

Gi-hun hadn’t expected Jun-hee to include it in the post or to make it one of the highlight for everyone to see. Maybe it was just a mistake. Or maybe the ambience and the setup itself are just nice. It was a beautiful shot, nonetheless. He shouldn’t be over thinking about the CEO liking a post on his own company’s social media. It’s a natural thing. He just happened to be there too.

Still… it did feel like something for him. The warmth spread across his cheeks, fluttering in his chest enough to help him withstand the cold beach air.

Then, a light bump on his side. It was Old Geum-ja again, leaning in, trying to reach his ear.

“Did you and CEO Hwang really get married secretly?” she whispered.

“WHAT!? NO!” Gi-hun yelled. The comforting warmth inside him now turned to fire. His face felt hot, and he was sweating profusely as everyone’s eyes turned toward him.

Geum-ja elbowed him, laughing. “Calm down. I’m just wondering… it’s one of the famous rumors, and I wanted to hear it from you—to deny it—or…” She rolled her eyes upward with a grin. “Or confirm it,” she said.

“But that doesn’t make sense—No. We’re not in that kind of relationship, Mr. Hwang and I are—” he stopped, finding no exact words. “We’re just normal boss and attendant,” he claimed, voice softer.

“That doesn’t make sense either—marrying me wouldn’t make me stop working. That’s absurd,” Gi-hun defended.

“It’s not—” Dae-ho started. “It’s not about the work… It’s the other rumor—that Mr. Hwang is hiding your existence after whisking you away on your honeymoon,” he explained.

“That’s… even weirder,” Gi-hun muttered, almost choking on his drink as he slowly  realized it was too close to In-ho’s plans a year ago—less the wedding and honeymoon. They had technically been in that phase where they were impulsive and careless to the world, too intoxicated with exploring each other. Maybe that’s where the honeymoon rumors began.

Gi-hun wasn’t sure if he should be relieved that they were talking about random, embarrassing rumors of his disappearance to cover up his real, shameful thoughts of his history creeping back. Fake or not, he couldn’t seem to run away from feeling so shameless that he wanted the world to engulf him fully and erase this part of his existence.

But the world didn’t. It loved to toy and tease him like this.

Another group came to them. Another order of drinks. Another different rumor shared. Another missed hug. Another photo session.

…

Ding!

In-ho looked down to see a notification pop up while he worked on his laptop, which was laid in his lap.

“What’s this you’re sending me, Hyun-ju?” he asked, never batting an eye at her lounging on the edge of the couch beside him, while he continued his work without missing a beat.

“Check it. It’s the first post of your employee on your company’s group page,” she said, amused.

In-ho never wavered from his work. “I’ll check it later,” he answered simply.

Hyun-ju kicked his thigh. In-ho finally stopped and glanced at her, pissed.

“Look at it first before you get mad at me,” she said.

He sighed and, exasperated, followed her request for the sake of his sanity.

He opened their group messages, clicked the link leading to the company page. Jun-hee’s post. On top of it, Gi-hun’s photo.

His heart skipped a beat—almost too long, it felt like it could kill him in that second. Then it beat again, wildly, and he felt urged to clutch both hands to his chest to stabilize the almost-breaking feeling in his ribcage.

Hyun-ju sat, leaned in  and hearted the post for him.

In-ho was baffled by her action; he could only stare at her, petrified and enraged all at once.

“HYUN-JU!!!!” he screamed, but she had already crawled away, jumping to another couch where Jun-ho sat peacefully—but now it was gone.

Jun-ho checked the same link and was appalled. Looking at the commotion, his brother was already up, standing still and gripping his laptop, while Hyun-ju hid behind the couch where he was seated. He was caught in the clash—no—he was technically on Hyun-ju’s side, considering the reason his brother’s “not ex” was now sharing the same sands and salty cold air with him.

“You’re being dramatic, In-ho!” Hyun-ju exclaimed, now sitting on the backrest of the couch beside Jun-ho. “It’s just a typical group photo of your employee! And it’s your responsibility to show appreciation and support! Don’t tell me you’re gonna like everything else and leave this one out just because a certain someone is catching your attention!” She grinned but logically pointed it out.

In-ho didn’t answer. His eyes were still glaring.

“She’s right, brother,” Jun-ho added, trying to ease the tension. “I’m not siding with her—but you do like each post on the page. It would be far too suspicious if you skipped one. And it’s not like—”

He was interrupted by Hyun-ju patting his shoulder with her finger. Her smile was far worse this time—it made Jun-ho’s stomach flip. She gestured for him to look at his phone again. He did.

The page was updating with more posts and photos of employees.

At least five more group posts featured the same man his brother was trying to avoid. The first post seemed intentionally set to inform colleagues of Gi-hun’s whereabouts. Now they’re all gathering to see him at the beachside.

There were group photos with Gi-hun and the kitchen staff, maintenance, the girlies on the 11th floor, Gyeong-suk and his child, and Thanos and his friends ganging up on Gi-hun in the pictures.

“Awww… Your employees miss Gi-hun. Look at them all treating him like a tourist spot. Should we line up too?” Hyun-ju teased.

If stares could cut, In-ho’s eyes could have minced his brother and his friend in a single slash.

“Do whatever you want and leave me out of it,” he scoffed bitterly, gripping his laptop to his chest. “Just don’t post it if you do,” he warned, already walking out.

“I’m not having dinner. You two return to your rooms and stop pestering me,” he added.

“I’ll send it in private?” Hyun-ju struck one last time before In-ho slammed his door.

9:00 PM

Two hours have passed since In-ho locked himself out of his room. Hyun-ju and Jun-ho left to their own rooms, and no one has bothered him since, except for a message from his brother saying they ordered some food and put it in his fridge for him to eat. Hyun-ju added, “Don’t be stubborn, tomorrow’s a big day.” He let it be seen and closed it.

He’s been lying down for more than two hours now, stopping the work he’s been trying to keep himself busy with. Even the lights being out are not helping him catch some rest. The room is cold, but he can’t turn the temperature because he also dislikes heat and sweating. He barely moves in his position; his shoulder is better and healing, but still strikes pain when moved the wrong way.

He grabs his phone and opens it, scrolling through the posts he had liked but never lingered on.

“How could you let them touch you and smile at them like that?” In-ho murmured to himself, holding his phone and staring at Gi-hun’s photos.

He liked them all. Each post. And he stared at each of Gi-hun’s pictures for a solid moment before swiping to others and landing on another photo of him to start another round of staring.

“I’m hungry,” he grumbled. “But my little pride remaining is the only grip I have left after you came back and started shattering everything again.”

He scrolled down, clicked on Gi-hun’s photo, and zoomed in on his face.

He went on his side. Flinched at the stinging pain he felt in his shoulder. He let go of his phone and firmly held his shoulder joint, putting pressure on it for support as he also tried to move and lift his arm connected to the strained shoulder.

Fuck, that hurts.

And fuck, that felt good.

And fuck… he knows he’s fucked up.

It’s been three weeks since he fell out of bed, and he never had a check-up with his doctor for it. He’s busy. He’s aware it’s not dislocated—that it’s just a muscle strain, or his tendons are lightly damaged, making him unable to move his cuffs and feel sharp pains with every movement he tries. It is something that can heal on its own. But really, he deliberately let the ache prolong.

He liked it.

As twisted as it seems, he felt aroused over the coursing pain that spiked with every breath and shoulder movement.

He denied it. He didn’t dwell on it. Heck, he used it like normal on the first day until he felt the swelling, and he got sick upon arrival on their check-up at the island.

Him saying Gi-hun’s name out loud after a year of holding it back, and also Hyun-ju and his brother now no longer withholding his name around him, never helped.

He felt sick. He felt hot. And he felt aroused just by feeling the sting of pain entwining with overwhelming thoughts of Gi-hun.

Just hearing his name tickled the sensitivity of his pained pleasure.

A year of never even thinking of such a thing. A year of abstinence, just purely focusing on his healing and therapy.

But—just one meeting. Just one kiss. And just one random pain that triggered everything back to him is all it took to break himself.

He let go.

Used his broken arm to relieve himself. Let the hurt fuel his desire as he stroked his length. Gasping with his aching throat and drowning in his sweat, he moaned his name.

It felt sinful.

It felt like burning alive with lust as gasoline.

“Sorry…” he found himself uttering between Gi-hun’s name.

“Sorry…” he gasped, as he felt not just the physical pain pushing his release to the edge but also his emotional consciousness tagging along.

“Sorry… Gi-hun…” he moaned—an ironic apology as his hand trembled but grew slick and fast, working him closer to release.

Gi-hun…

He cried out, and he came.

The shame and after-guilt washed over him before he collapsed into sleep once again.

“You’re going to kill me, Gi-hun,” In-ho whispered as the sinful memory flashing back finally ended. “It’s not even day one… how the hell will I survive your existence? You’re… cruel…. Gi-hun…” He mumbled as he finally fell asleep.

….

DAY 1

The main event would start after lunch. They’d be holding a game each day, and at the end, prizes would be given to the employees who won.

Gi-hun, Ali, and Woo-seok were on guard duty in the morning as the booths and stalls filled with attendees. They helped line people up and assisted the elderly. It could’ve been a nice, simple morning for Gi-hun, filled with old co-workers he hadn’t seen in a while—if not for a certain someone he planned to talk to, who was clearly avoiding him like the plague.

In-ho was lined up with the rest of the crowd. The moment he saw Gi-hun, he scurried away. When Gi-hun was handing out free eco-bags full of goodies at a booth, In-ho rushed past him and skipped three booths down. When Gi-hun tripped carrying a pile of chairs as they set up for later, In-ho actually stepped forward worriedly—only to retreat ten steps back and hide again. Even at lunch, when Gi-hun personally came over to their table to bring refreshments, In-ho kept looking anywhere but at him, forcing himself to act busy chatting with other important people at the table.

Finally, Gi-hun slammed the tray of drinks down right in front of In-ho. Everyone looked at him—except In-ho, who kept his eyes locked on the far end of the table. Still, Gi-hun saw the flinch.

“Sorry,” he said, way too flatly. Not even close to apologetic. Honestly, he wanted to do worse—like splash the drinks in In-ho’s face just to force him to say something. He felt evil. But In-ho was really pushing his limits, and the scorching sun wasn’t helping. Between the heat and the cold shoulder, Gi-hun was about ready to strangle him for making him chase like this.

After a few more breaks, by 2 PM, the program finally started. All staff were around the players to assist them. They handed them a set of clothing: a green tracksuit, a jacket and pants, and a white shirt with big numbers in front and back. Most just wore it on top of their own clothes. As they were getting ready, the host on stage started explaining the details of the first game.

Gi-hun did his job on the sidelines while also watching In-ho from the stage. He was one of the VIPs, settled comfortably in the roofed area with the other important guests, simply watching the game unfold. Three high-lumen projector screens were set up in front of them, and camera crews were already spread out, with even some drones capturing every angle of the game.

“Hide and seek,” the host announced as he explained the first game.

“We have rented a portion of the island for the games, and our staff will manage the participants to stay only in areas we can use. The mechanic is simple!” the host continued. “You will draw lots to be either a hider or a seeker. Blue is for hiders, red for seekers. To win, a seeker must catch a hider and bring them back to the base. Hiders must hide and escape until the time runs out.” Everyone began drawing lots, with staff providing colored vests to wear as per their draw.

Then a hand raised.

It was number 001—Oh Il-nam, one of the shareholders, In-ho’s uncle, and basically the celebrant who made this event happen.

“Yes, Mr. Il-nam?” the host asked from the stage. A staff provided a microphone for him.

“I am old. I didn’t expect the game to start like this,” he laughed. “And I don’t think I’ll win, whether as a hider or a seeker. Being the slowest and oldest here is a full disadvantage. At the same time, I doubt anyone would try to attack me out of respect—so this game is futile for me,” he explained.

The host simply nodded, not sure what to say. Then Il-nam grinned.

“Boy! Gi-hun, come here!!!” he called, seeing Gi-hun among the assisting staff.

Gi-hun reluctantly ran toward him and stood at his side.

“Play on my behalf, Gi-hun,” Il-nam requested. “You’re a former employee and one of us. I know I can bet on how agile you are.”

Gi-hun looked up at the stage, then at In-ho, then at the host.

The host nodded. “Ok! I’ll seek confirmation from the VIPs if they will allow the celebrant’s request!” he exclaimed dramatically, turning to them and muting his mic while talking.

Soon the host returned to the stage and gave the verdict.

“Ok! This is a turn of events, but—we’re sorry, Gi-hun cannot play on behalf of Mr. Oh Il-nam!”

A roar of boos echoed. His friends and people who knew him disagreed loudly, fighting for him to play.

The host awkwardly laughed, trying to calm a few hundred people.

“Please, calm down, calm down,” he said, almost pleading. “We have a good reason for not taking him as Mr. Il-nam’s replacement.” He breathed deeply before continuing. “It’s because—our own CEO, Mr. Hwang In-ho, Mr. Il-nam’s nephew, will play on his behalf!” the host announced, and In-ho, from his comfortable seat, stood and walked onto the stage toward the other participants.

As soon as In-ho was between his uncle and Gi-hun, he finally faced him after a long day of chasing.

“Thank you for considering…” he said to Gi-hun. “But I’ll take over for him,” In-ho added, taking the 001 jacket and wearing it.

Gi-hun only nodded in acknowledgement but paused to listen to the host.

“I believe there won’t be any more objections with Mr. Hwang playing? And it seems everyone’s almost done with wearing their tracksuits and vests. Any clarifications before we start?” the host asked, scanning the crowd.

Another hand raised. From the far end, an assisting staff took a while to give her the mic.

“Hi! I’m just concerned. Since the game is hide and seek and the seeker must catch a player to win, shouldn’t there be an even number so every seeker has a chance?” she claimed. “I am number 455, the last player, which makes the total players odd.”

Murmurs spread. The host returned to seek judgment from the VIPs. But people began yelling:

“Bring Gi-hun back!!!”

“Let Gi-hun play!!”

“We have a 456 suit!!! It’s meant for Gi-hun!!!”

They all roared simultaneously. The remaining VIPs gave in, and the host smiled, giving a thumbs up. Celebration erupted across the beach.

The 456 jacket and the remaining seeker red vest were immediately given to Gi-hun.

In-ho stepped closer. “Gi-hun…” he whispered. Gi-hun looked and saw In-ho already wearing his jacket and vest.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this game… you don’t have to push yourself and play along,” In-ho assured him.

Gi-hun listened while putting on his jacket, never looking back.

“It’s fine…but…” he muttered, fixing his red vest straps.

In-ho stood patiently.

“You should run…” Gi-hun said sternly.

“What?” In-ho asked, confused.

“In-ho, you should run fast. Hide, and make sure you’re far—because I will run after you,” he declared, then looked back at him.

“If I catch you—you’ll owe me a date, and I won’t accept refusal,” he said, eyes serious.

In-ho swallowed hard, taking it as a threat.

Gi-hun took a breath, shook his head to calm his nerves, and turned to run toward the side of the seekers.

Gi-hun! In-ho called, but it was all in his mind.

Gi-hun glanced back but kept running. He smiled and waved at In-ho.

“I’m gonna do my best, In-ho!!” he declared, and the world seemed to stop for In-ho.

Then the gunshot.

RUN!!!!!

Chapter Text

RUN!!!

The gunshot was still echoing in In-ho’s head as everything slowed down.

5 minutes left!!

The world seemed to move at a pace he wasn’t part of, leaving him stuck, frozen, unable to grasp his own state.

4 minutes!!

“Yoooouuuu fooooool… Geeeeettt youuuurrr asssss gooooiiiinnngggg!!!”

It was his uncle’s voice, stretched and muted in his ears.

What does he mean? What’s going on? Where am I?

3 Minnnnuuuuuiiiiittttteeeessssssss!!!!!!

The host screamed in pain. It felt directed at him. He flinched, finally able to move his head. He glanced around, but nothing sank in.

Until—

“In-ho!!! Don’t make it too easy on me!!! Run!!!!!”

It was Gi-hun’s voice. And without a second of thought, without even looking back at the owner of that voice, In-ho dashed forward, chasing the group of people already nearly gone on the horizon.

In-ho ran as if his life depended on it, reaching toward the end of the people who had started before him. They were all spreading out, hiding, or just trying to get as far as they could. There were piles of boats people were going to. Some were hiding near rock formations still inside the game area, marked by a line of red floats. Most were going to the tree areas, trying to hide in bushes or behind trunks. But In-ho knew well that those were the common spots to be picked.

By this time, he heard the blast of a horn like a purge from the starting point.

The seekers were coming.

He started running onward again, still thinking about where to hide. He wasn’t ready. Not one part of him was ready to be here. He wore light gray chinos, a pale navy shirt, and white sneakers. On top, he had another looser white numbered shirt and a green jacket, layered on him as the game required. It was tight on his build, uncomfortable, and bad for his still-healing shoulder.

He wasn’t meant to participate. His sneakers were practically filling with sand by now, and his upper body was sweating under all the layers. His hair, fixed minutes ago, was now down, soaked with sweat, falling on his forehead. The way he rushed, the jacket pulling at his body, made every sway of his run painful for his shoulder.

Where should he hide? He couldn’t let Gi-hun catch him. He wasn’t ready.

He stopped once more to think and look at the place he had reached. Many were still like him, near the beach with nowhere to go. Some had stopped and hidden in unoccupied nipa stalls. Others were under umbrellas. Some were burying themselves in the sand near sandcastles. And there were even people going for the seaweed camouflage.

His heartbeat tried to outrun his breath. Hearing it, feeling it, only made him panic more.

Why the hell would Gi-hun randomly declare such a threat on him?

Was it because he’d been obviously avoiding him?

Was he going for revenge?

But a date? Why?

Why would he want to date him?

Why did he make up his own game?

Why was he following Gi-hun’s rules?

A stomped sound. In-ho turned. Two of his employees were brawling on the sand. The seeker was pinning the other guy to the ground.

“Surrender!” the man yelled at the blue-vested man below. They were both laughing, even with the intensity of their actions.

The man below grinned. “No. Not yet,” he declared, wrapping the man atop with his legs and flipping their positions.

Is this for real? In-ho thought. This is too brutal for a company outing game. He had approved each game, read the rules and regulations. There was always a reminder not to harm other participants, but it was still vague enough that physicality wasn’t entirely prohibited.

No—NO! He wouldn’t be like that with Gi-hun.

Some were already being caught and taken. Most hiders were voluntarily surrendering, not wanting any more fight. They were being dragged by seekers back to the base.

Wait.

That could be the best solution, he thought, standing still amid the chaos around him. He just needed to be caught, to surrender willingly.

Happenings around were getting wilder; shoes flying, dashes of sand flying, even his employees were flying accompanied by screams and laughter.

Lose on purpose—to anyone, as long as it wasn’t to Gi-hun. He’d just have to deal with his uncle later for losing as his representative for today’s game. He’d push the next game tomorrow to be more peaceful and even playable for the old geezer—like maybe marble games and dalgona candy.

He gave another look at the almost-war raging across the beach. Everyone was busy taking someone else, but he could also see waves of new seekers incoming. He just had to stay and wait.

He waited. And then they came. A surge—fifty or so red-vested employees flooding in. He braced himself, waiting for the impact of a body tackling him down into the wet white sand. But… they all passed him. Like he didn’t exist. Seekers spread out, leaving him untouched.

NO!

His chest tightened. Panic rose. His only plan, his one way out, wasn’t working.

“You!” he shouted, spotting a red vest nearby, a figure frozen in the middle of the chaos, clinging to herself for dear life. “Kim Young-mi!” he yelled again, recognizing one of the marketing assistants.

“Take me! I won’t resist.” He raised both hands in surrender. “Please. So we can be at peace and return safely.” His voice cracked with urgency, pleading.

He stepped closer. She took a step back, clutching herself more tightly, shaking her head in refusal and apology. Then she ran away.

In-ho froze, disturbed by her reaction, panic swelling from the seconds slipping away. He turned, searching desperately. Another seeker.

This one grinned. Hands up, circling him slowly. Her eyes locked on him, devious, unsettling. A look he had never liked.

Was she going to tackle him? He tracked her every step, heart pounding. But as she moved, circling him as the center, her smirk only widened—creepier with every second. And then—she stepped back.

The dread hit. In-ho was gutted as realization dawned. Seon-nyeo, the liaison officer, also partly hired as a “company shaman” for one client’s ridiculous preference, had never planned to catch him.

She was reading him. Right there. In the middle of the battlefield.

And judging from her face? Her reading was bad. So bad, he could see it glinting in her eyes without a single word exchanged.

“He’s coming,” she whispered, low enough for only In-ho to hear. The words sliced through him, his soul nearly leaving his body.

Then she ran away too.

What the fuck was that?

Shit. Shit. SHIT!

In-ho was distressed, furious over his people who had been obedient to his every single word for decades, even shaken in fear by his simple presence… yet now they were passing through him deliberately. They eyed him, took other routes, or even bluntly denied they had seen him.

In-ho had enough. If he couldn’t get them to obey with words, then he’d use force like any normal player. He would win—by losing.

He made another sharp turn, his head spinning from all the sudden movement. The spiraling dread clawed at his chest, and sweat dripped down his body.

Then—crash! Someone slammed into him. Instinctively, In-ho grabbed the person by the arms to steady himself. When he looked up, the man’s face was twisted in sheer terror. No wonder—In-ho looked sinister, drenched in panic and desperation.

Dae-ho.

The tall young man with the little ponytail, just as sweaty as him, just as desperate was shaking in his grasp. Clearly not a fighter, he’d just been running, stumbling, getting shoved and shoved again, until he ended up here in In-ho’s grip.

He froze, stiff and wide-eyed. Not resisting. Perfect.

“Mr. Hwang!!!” Dae-ho screamed suddenly, voice cracking with fear.

In-ho flinched, guilt stabbing through him, and lightly loosened his grasp. But Dae-ho only shouted louder—

“Mr. Hwang is here!!!”

The words hit the air like a spark to dry grass.

From a few steps away, an echo:

“The CEO!!! He’s here!!!”

Then another voice, further out:

“Mr. Hwang is in there!!!”

Another.

And another.

And another.

Each shout spreading like wildfire, until the entire beach was roaring his name reaching as far as his view.

Until—

“Gi-hun!! Mr. Hwang was there!!!”

The eight voice, desperate and piercing.

And in the next breath, In-ho saw him. The man everyone was calling for. Eyes locked on him, charging through the chaos with deadly aim.

In-ho felt his soul leave him. He pushed Dae-ho onto the sand and started to flee.

What the fuck!!!

What did he do to his people!!!?? Why are they helping him??? Why are they siding on his ex attendant than their own CEO!!!??

ALSO—What the hell is he wearing!!!!??? Is he even wearing anything!!!???

No. No. NO!!!

His mind raced faster than his short legs, his running pace even more constricted by the pants he was wearing.

I hate you!!! Hate those fucking, beautiful, lean, long legs of yours!!! Don’t catch me!!! Please don’t catch me!!! I beg you please!!!!

In-ho’s cluttered, almost incoherent thoughts screamed in agony.

His foot ached with sand filling in. His legs were starting to strain over stepping on unstable, sinking sand. His shoulder would need another week to heal after this. His brain was not helping at all, frantic as it was. His heart—oh, his heart could give in at any moment.

Thank God he might not have the advantage of longer legs, but he had balance and endurance. Just hope it would be enough to run away from Gi-hun.

The voices were still loud in the background. Participants were in chaotic uproar, clashing with the sounds of nature. There were stomps, but nothing nearby. He knew one glance back was a risk. He could already imagine a horror scene of Gi-hun flying like a chipmunk, all limbs spread wide, ready to capture him if he ever turned back.

NO.

That’s terrifying. But he needed to take a look. He had to see how far he was and calm his heart. One look. Just one look. He reminded himself not to falter in speed. He adjusted his stance just enough to slide a glance back without stopping.

He did. One scanning look—none.

He continued running. One more. Just one more to make sure Gi-hun wasn’t after him anymore. Or maybe he was aiming for someone else? Okay. Last look. This time he slid from impact and stopped.

None. No wild Seong Gi-hun running after him.

He scanned more of the beach, taking in each player. It was a little hard, considering most were wearing the same jackets, but he knew Gi-hun’s figure from head to toe. One gaze and he could differentiate him from the others. No—he wasn’t anywhere among the bunch of people fighting.

Then… he saw him.

In-ho was running back toward the person he had been dying to flee from seconds ago. Gi-hun was lying face down in the sand.

No.

No.

No.

His brain spiraled again, but this time for a different reason.

He remembered how Gi-hun had sweated when he worked this morning. And he knew well, despite his flexible body, Gi-hun was clumsy.

Shit. Was it heatstroke? Did he fall and got knocked out? He was worried, getting closer.

Not a single person had come to help. Everyone was busy with the games, occupied at the far end.

Gi-hun’s feet were being lapped by the returning waves at the seaside. Must have been the high tide coming in. And still, with that cold touch reaching and damping his feet, not a single flinch of movement.

Maybe it was In-ho’s fault for being extra to avoid him. Stress and all he had caused. Gi-hun had even stayed late, judging by the posted pictures of his employees barraging to meet him last night.

Fuck. In-ho’s gut twisted with anxiety.

He kneeled in front of him and saw that he wasn’t awake. In-ho panicked, calling his name repeatedly, trying to wake him while gently scooping Gi-hun’s head into his palms and brushing the sand off his face.

Still not waking.

No.

Please… No.

He scooted closer, laid Gi-hun’s back in his arms, then his other arm under his thighs, and in one go he lifted him in a bridal carry.

In-ho started to take a step, breathing in and adjusting Gi-hun’s weight in his hold. He was ready to push onward, using his remaining strength to run again and get Gi-hun to safety.

Then he glanced down and saw him.

“Gi……..hun……?” In-ho muttered, before suddenly finding himself facing the blue sky, heat touching his cheeks, seagulls flying in slow motion, his head spinning, incomprehending how the earth worked, and his feet no longer touching the ground.

He crashed down. Along with Gi-hun on top of him, now face pressed to his chest.

In-ho’s head hurt from the impact. His shoulder was definitely back to zero in healing. And most of all, his ego was shattered from the betrayal.

Tears he’d been holding down to calm himself and prioritize securing Gi-hun’s well-being finally escaped. He couldn’t stop them.

“You’re not being fair!” In-ho cried out, disappointed.

Still lying in the sand, he wiped the tears that were still falling.

Gi-hun shifted above him, clinging firmly to In-ho’s waist. Then his head peered up at him.

“Caught ya!” he claimed, smiling—a smile that was dangerous for In-ho’s heart.

Gi-hun tried to move away and started to untangle himself from sitting atop In-ho. His firm hands still clung to the edge of In-ho’s unzipped jacket, making sure he wouldn’t run.

"You crying..?" Gi-hun asked, as they adjusted, sitting side by side on the sand. In-ho’s hands still pressed to his eyes.

"No, it’s the salt…stinging in my eyes," In-ho denied, trying to face the other way. He continued to rubbed at his eyes, drying his tears. Even if he felt played, he was just relieved Gi-hun was safe.

Gi-hun saw the tears. He felt awful for doing him dirty just to catch him.  Making In-ho anxious and cry, but he also couldn’t help feeling warmth in his chest at this reaction. He decided not to push further, let him relax or let him sass at him an obvious lie if that’s what brought him comfort.

"Ack… I’m so old…" Gi-hun muttered, brushing sand off his legs and knees. One knee was scraped. "My bones feel like they’ll break just from running for a few minutes," he claimed.

In-ho, completely eased, turned to see him. See his wounds.

So, Gi-hun really did trip for real. And maybe he was just going along with his little plans of fooling him afterward. In-ho realized.

"Then you shouldn’t have run," In-ho grumbled, voice low and dried throat.

"Then you shouldn’t have made me run for you?" Gi-hun snapped, pointing out.

"I—" In-ho mumbled, confusedly paused.

"You should have stayed and waited, and let me catch you," Gi-hun stated, all serious, as if it was the obvious thing in the world.

"That’s not how the game works," In-ho replied.

 “I’m not playing your games. I have my own,” Gi-hun proclaimed.

“That’s ridiculous,” In-ho sneered.

“And still, I won,” he asserted.

"Only because I’m wearing tight pants and not prepared—physically and mentally," In-ho shot back defending his self.

Gi-hun chuckled. Snickered. A stupid laugh that melts something inside In-ho.

"You—practicing running away from me since morning says otherwise," Gi-hun teased, eyes glinting.

“I hate you. And your long legs. And your dramatic acting," In-ho moaned, defeated. Not just with the word antics Gi-hun was making him play, but with his whole being—Gi-hun pulling him in naturally.

In-ho suddenly went quiet. Gi-hun knows well he’s been holding back something he’s about to say.

"Why do even you want this date that bad?" In-ho asked, low, shifting to more serious conversation. "What do you even want from it?"

"You," Gi-hun said simply.

"And your time. And your attention. And just simply—you…" He added as he looked at In-ho, gripping his jacket tighter.

In-ho remained unspoken, heat crawling in his neck, but he tried to stay calm.

Gi-hun sighed, exasperated.

"I just know you’ve been running away from me all this time… so a date seems good to get a hold of you," he admitted, voice softening.

"You could have said… meeting… or a time to talk… not—not date," In-ho explained. "It’s entirely different… if your only purpose is to talk.” His eyes gaze down. “I might… assume something else because of your words," In-ho added.

"You should!! I’m planning to have you for a whole day if I can. I’ll plan something more… not just talk…" Gi-hun confessed.

"I’m sorry what?" In-ho muttered, trying to be unaffected but heat is reaching his cheeks.

"Date! I know what a date is! I said it’s a date. So it’s a date, In-ho! You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself." Gi-hun’s cheeks flamed red, both embarrassed and furious.

Gi-hun sighed, took a deep breath, and groaned.

"It’ll be boring to just talk. And I think I need the whole day just for you to speak to me. Just look at us—me! My efforts!! My wounds! My aching back!! Just so we could talk today!" Gi-hun rambled, listing complaints. "And you!" He paused, eyes locking on In-ho.

He blinked and recomposed himself before proceeding.

"You… How was your shoulder? Did I hurt you when we fell?" His voice softened, eyes gentle.

"It’s all... fine," In-ho denied again, gaze darting far off to the sea.

Gi-hun leaned closer and hammered his fist once. Twice. By the third, he flatly squeezed In-ho’s shoulder cuffs, making him flinch. In-ho croaked in pain and pulled away.

"I told you to have it checked with your doctor!" Gi-hun scolded, frowning.

"I’m really allr—" In-ho started, and then stopped, acknowledging it would be futile to lie further to Gi-hun. "I’m sorry… I was busy," he finally admitted.

Gi-hun exhaled a breath, his fingers fiddling with the way he held on to In-ho’s jacket, seemingly trying to process things on his own.

“I will let go of you,” Gi-hun said, leaning a little closer to In-ho, who stayed still in his seat in the sand, but let his head sink slightly lower to make a bit of breathing space away. Such a small reaction, but noticeable to Gi-hun.

“I’ve already caught you. So I will definitely take my win of a one-day date from you,” Gi-hun concluded. “If you run once I let you go… I might take a risk and scandalize you here in public.” His eyes idd not blink and were dead serious. “Don’t even ask me what I can do,” he uttered factually, a whisper as he leaned in, eyes on In-ho’s lips—a simple, promising threat.

In-ho trembled as he nodded. “Yes,” he muttered, his voice higher, throat hitching. “I won’t run. Promise.” Gi-hun caught how stiff he’d become, the small flinch in his injured shoulder.

He let go of his tight grip on the green jacket. Both of them watched as it slackened, Gi-hun’s palm settling onto the sand, his fingernails still grazing the fabric, tips brushing against the grains of sands beneath them.

Then they let go. Looked up at the same time. A shared gaze, magnetizing, felt impossible to break.

“I… I’m going to strip you.” Gi-hun declared it too plainly, his eyes fixed on In-ho, not an inch of movement leaving his body.

In-ho’s eyes widened in panic before he wrenched himself away from the pull, gaze darting back down to the sand. There was a flush in his cheek, and a glint in his eyes.

Gi-hun realized his mistake—his words, the way they sounded, the look he must’ve had. And it was cute. He nipped his lower lip lightly, holding back a grin before In-ho could catch his allurement.

“I meant, let’s remove your extra pile of clothes,” he clarified. “It’s restricting you, and your body can barely breathe with it. Let me help out,” he insisted, genuinely concerned.

…

Half of the participants are already back at the starting point, lounging on their seats and drinking refreshments. They are all watching intently the live broadcast of the still ongoing games. Three high-lumen projectors blazed across the sand, each screen towering at two and a half by three meters, set in a slight curve to wrap the wide stage.

On the left screen, Myung-gi and Nam-gyu, both in red vests, had teamed up as seekers, hunting Thanos, with Jun-hee on the opposing hider side. On the right, old lady Geum-ja from maintenance, a hider, was with her son Yong-sik, a seeker—the mother and son tag-teaming player 100, a hider, who had camouflaged himself in seaweed.

And in the middle screen, two figures simply sat at the shore, talking, while the chaos of the game carried on in the background. The shot, taken by a drone, captured the whole seaside and about ten players in the back still running and brawling.

“HE’S STRIPPING OUR CEO!!!” the host yelled, hyped as he tried to focus on reacting to the middle screen. “PLAYER 456, OUR BOSS’S EX-ATTENDANT, IS STRIPPING HIM IN BROAD DAYLIGHT!! WHAT IS HAPPENING!!??” His voice roared across the area as people watched intently on the muted video feed.

Mr. Il-nam, sitting on the edge of the stage no longer among the VIPs’ delicate and fancy seats, was now beside the host as they watched. His laughter echoed into the microphone as well.

“You can just call him his ex. Ex-attendant is too long every time you announce them,” Il-nam suggested humorously. “So long as In-ho isn’t here, no one will stop you, and it’s far more entertaining that way,” he said.

The host just smiled awkwardly and laughed.

Gi-hun was on his knees, gently pulling the numbered shirt off In-ho’s head, making sure not to move his injured shoulder too much. Once his arms were freed, In-ho immediately pressed his left hand to his right shoulder before lowering it with extra effort, careful not to trigger the damage cuffs.

“OH! IT SEEMS MR. HWANG IS INJURED FROM THE FALL, AND PLAYER 456 JUST STRIPPED HIM TO SEE THE DAMAGE!” the host declared.

“WELL, AFTER COUNTER-SLAMMING OUR BOSS TO FLIP HIM AND CRASH HIM LIKE AN MMA PRO, AND THEN PROCEEDING TO ASSAULT HIM WITH MULTIPLE PUNCHES WHILE MR. HWANG WAS CLEARLY NOT FIGHTING BACK—IT SEEMS, EVEN WITH THEIR UNRESOLVED CONFLICT, THE TWO ARE NOW REACHING SOME KIND OF AGREEMENT. AND I THINK MR. SEONG GI-HUN HAS WON THIS BATTLE!” the host exclaimed. “SHOULD WE CALL OUT THE MEDICS FOR OUR CEO?” he asked, glancing at Il-nam, who was still watching the two with his legs swinging leisurely.

“Nah. Let them be. Gi-hun will bring him here. It’s just a small injury. My pitiful replacement can live with that,” Il-nam remarked, ending with another burst of laughter.

….

In-ho shivered. Now stripped of his extra layers, his light navy shirt was the only thing left, fully soaked in sweat and clinging to his body.

Gi-hun noticed, and immediately laid the green jacket on his back, tying the shoulder part to his chest. Smooth, slow, sweet. In-ho watched him, and his pissed-off feelings—along with noticing the drone hovering above—were washed over by Gi-hun’s warm closeness.

As Gi-hun finished, his hand landed on In-ho’s arm, making him flinch away from the direct contact. Gi-hun immediately withdrew. In-ho seemed fine with him being close, but direct contact always triggered him. And Gi-hun hadn’t even touched his injured side.

“Did I scare you?” Gi-hun asked, now sitting back to his side again, holding In-ho’s crumpled white number shirt.

“With how you tried to catch me in this game?” In-ho paused, facing him but looking up, thinking about it. “Yes—you are quite a runner and a scary hunter. I never thought I’d end up flailing desperately over a silly hide-and-seek child’s game.” He admitted with a sigh and a laugh.

“I meant by touching me?” Gi-hun asked, seeing another flinch.

No answer. It was a yes.

Their hands rested inches apart in the sand as they sat. Then Gi-hun moved and laid his pinky atop In-ho’s. Something hidden, even for the extra viewers likely watching them right now.

“I need to at least hold your hand to capture you and bring you back to the base,” Gi-hun whispered, staring at the endless sea.

Then he inched further. And more. Until his palms fully covered In-ho’s hands, fingers slipping between his.

“You’re not hurting me… you will not hurt me…” Gi-hun whispered. An assurance he thought was needed in the silence.

“Let’s stay like this for a while, till you get comfortable,” Gi-hun added, glancing back at the few players still running. “Seems like a lot are still taking their time to play anyway…”

In-ho pulled his hand away. Gi-hun turned to face him, worried, only for In-ho to take it back and claim Gi-hun’s hand. Palms soft but pressed together, fingers threading perfectly with no gaps.

“Don’t swing it much, you’ve injured me again,” In-ho reminded, but his fingers’ grip tightened.

Gi-hun just stared, taking in the moment.

“We should go. They’ve been watching us for a while now, and might take the wrong things with how we just lounge here,” In-ho said, eyeing the drone in the sky, making Gi-hun look up as well.

In-ho started to stand, their hands still clasped openly. With his free hand, he brushed the sand off his back that had stuck.

Gi-hun followed, doing the same. He lightly lifted his jacket to scrape more sand from his swimming trunks—all still with their hands occupied, tying them together.

In-ho waited for him to finish, wearing a look of displeasure.

“What’s with the face now?” Gi-hun asked, still wiping his bare knees and legs with the grains.

“That looks inappropriate,” In-ho remarked.

Gi-hun frowned, confused. But it didn’t take long for him to realize what 001 was eyeing and why he looked like that.

“It’s a fucking swimming trunk, In-ho. There’s nothing more appropriate than this to wear at the beach. It’s even a requirement for us when I took this part-time job of yours!” Gi-hun exclaimed.

“I said it looks inappropriate. And it does… on you. Especially with your jacket loose and long on you,” In-ho elaborated, still with that sour expression toward his trunks. “I actually thought and was horrified looking at you from afar—almost looking, running butt-naked, dead-eyed towards me. I nearly had a heart attack, y’know.”

“There are basically at least thirty of your other male employees wearing this same damn trunk!?” Gi-hun pointed out.

“I don’t care. I’m just saying… my opinion.” In-ho huffed.

“Trust me, nobody cares about my average-looking trunks, aside from you, In-ho,” Gi-hun insisted.

“You don’t know that… and when did you even strip your pants? Did you do it in the middle of the game? In public? With everyone watching you??” In-ho pressed.

“Yes! And there’s nothing wrong with that. I have it underneath. I’m not some fool running around the beach with a constricting pants like someone else.”

In-ho gasped, offended.

“Well, fine. Whatever, if you want to flaunt your ass and legs like that, I don’t care.” In-ho’s face was red with anger as he finally started walking onward, making a step to move from their stuck place in the sand.

Gi-hun followed, step by step, emotions heightened. “I’m not flaunting, for god’s sake! It’s your eyes that have the problem. More than that broken shoulder of yours—you should fix that first,” he said, lightly pulling In-ho’s hand and striking a pain in his shoulder.

It was effective. In-ho stopped, crouching in pain.

Gi-hun felt guilty, but just watched him, one hand on his hip, waiting for In-ho’s agony to stop.

“Did you have to do that?” In-ho remarked, still bent, holding his shoulder, easing it before he stood again, hurt on his face.

“You started it. And—” Gi-hun said, turning his face away. “It’s insulting, for you to think I’m deliberately luring other people over a petty swimming trunk when I went all the way just for you.” His ear tips flushed pink.

In-ho stared at him, even refusing to face him fully, only seeing Gi-hun’s cheek and long lashes. “I’m sorry… that’s indeed way out of line to say,” In-ho admitted apologetically.

Gi-hun didn’t respond. He just moved and prompted In-ho to start walking. In the midst of some players still in chaos, they walk slow and hand in hand like they were in their own separate world.

Warm, gentle, and sweet. With their hands finding their way to be together again, it felt like coming back home.

……

When they finally reached the base, the scene was… weird. People were eyeing them, silence hanging thick in the air. In-ho gripped his own shoulder, as if to show he was physically spent from the game, even if it had nothing to do with the hand-holding.

“You can let go now. Gi-hun already won,” Hyun-ju screamed, hiding in the crowd.

In-ho’s hand loosened from Gi-hun’s, slowly untangling himself. He scanned the crowd, trying to find her, but the spectators only laughed and giggled softly.

As In-ho’s hand finally slipped free, Gi-hun simply took it back and started pulling him along, leading him somewhere.

They went up to the stage where the VIPs were seated—far enough from the audience to hear them but close enough to be seen.

“Mr. Il-nam,” Gi-hun called, nodding politely to the others. “I am aware that the prize would normally be a paid two-day leave. But as I am not an employee, that wouldn’t apply to me. May I propose a prize for myself?”

Il-nam chuckled, intrigued. “Go on. Tell me.”

In-ho’s voice remained calm, but his heart raced as he listened, stealing glances at Gi-hun and his uncle back and forth.

“I would like one day off from my duties as assistant to the event—on Friday, if possible. And…” Gi-hun paused, letting his eyes slide to In-ho before continuing, “…I would also like the CEO as my prize for that day, too.”

In-ho blinked. “That won’t be necessary—” he started, but Gi-hun subtly squeezed his hand, firm enough to hint he wanted it his way.

Gi-hun continued, “He might be needed in the morning or have other duties, so I wouldn’t mind if it were just half a day… if you’ll allow me.” He said it patiently, waiting for the response.

Il-nam laughed too loudly, the sound carrying even to the spectators below.

“Well, that’s a… mediocre prize you’re asking for, boy,” he said, still chuckling.

In-ho narrowed his eyes at his uncle but held his ground.

“But if it pleases you enough to claim this disgrace of a loser,” he said, nodding toward Gi-hun, “Then take him. He’s yours.”

Chapter Text

10:55 PM

Gi-hun: Hey! Just got ba…

In-ho saw the message pop up on his laptop and felt conflicted about how to respond. He also regretted their exchange of socials and contacts that now Gi-hun has full access to completely disturb his peace. But then again, it was inevitable since they have to connect for their promised date.

Finger hovered to scroll and reached for the pop-out message. He paused and withdrew, settling his hand on his chin and thinking for a moment. It seemed Gi-hun was simply updating him about returning to his hotel. He glanced at the time. It was quite late. Should he open it and reply? How soon? What should he say? Where would this lead? How could he converse with Gi-hun casually? Was “casually” even the right approach?

In-ho shook his head and leaned back against the headboard, pillows propping him up comfortably while he worked through the night. His work was just a distraction. He couldn’t really rest. And rather than wasting time filling his head with thoughts of Gi-hun and their upcoming date in a few hours, especially after not sleeping properly for days, he should just—

Screw it.

He sighed, defeated. Groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for temporary ease. Who was he even lying to, pretending to be functional alone, when he had been staring at his laptop, zoning out multiple times in agony? How would he survive tomorrow?

His screen was never on any documents; he was lost, mindlessly scrolling through Gi-hun’s socials. Posts he was tagged in came up, infiltrating his space ever since he’d added him. And he couldn’t—for the love of God—stop checking. Fully exploring everything from the year Gi-hun had been away, he saw it all. A part of him reasoned he was just concerned, wanting to see that Gi-hun had been alright, that people had supported him. That wasn’t a lie. He reminded himself, comforting and assuring, as he felt himself stepping onto a fragile line he shouldn’t cross.

The work he had promised himself was neglected. The rest he truly needed was fleeting and hopeless. It was all Gi-hun. All Gi-hun, right now, tormenting him, making him miserable. Was he excited? Afraid? He wasn’t sure. He had no space left to process, stuck, occupied on staring at Gi-hun’s smile alone. He was a living nightmare. But he had to endure, after all, it was just for one day.

Finally, his hand clicked the message.

In-ho: Good evening to you as well. It’s quite late. I believe the coordinators aren’t overworking you or the others for tomorrow’s program.

Gi-hun: No. But I did insist on helping out more. We really didn’t have to finish, but since I’ll be out tomorrow and won’t help them, I tried to stay a bit longer.

In-ho: It’s almost eleven. That’s more than ‘a bit more’. Eight is your time out.

Gi-hun: Oh no… they treated us to dinner too. I ran into my friends… your employees, at the same restaurant. There was karaoke. We sang a few songs, that’s why we stayed late.

In-ho: Sounds like you had fun. That’s nice.

Gi-hun: You should come next time. I miss you.

Oh.

There he goes again.

Attacking him in his most vulnerable state.

He’s so oblivious to his power over him.

He was already wrecked, long before the fight even started.

How could he be this upfront and bold?

How could he do this to him?

In-ho had noticed it before. Ever since they met, Gi-hun had changed—still warm and kind, but now more confident, assertive, and even a little stubborn. It was endearing, seeing him healthier, better, since they parted. The only exception to liking these traits was when they were used for him intentionally. Just like now.

Gi-hun: You stopped texting.

Gi-hun: I meant that.

Gi-hun: I’m not half-asleep or drunk talking nonsense.

Gi-hun: I do miss you, In-ho.

Gi-hun: A lot.

Gi-hun: I haven’t been able to sleep properly at night since I asked you out, just thinking of you.

In-ho just watched the messages keep coming. Real-time. Too much, even for just words on a screen. His heart raced. Flips. Waves of warmth engulfed him, igniting heat he could feel on his skin. He melted, inside and out, reading through his words with his voice in his head.

Gi-hun: To be fair, I’ve never had a day without someone bombarding me with questions about you. I see you every day too.

Gi-hun: But… you’re far. My mind is just full of you.

Gi-hun: Still no answer? I see you’re online.

Gi-hun: In-ho?

Gi-hun: Want me to call?

No. Please. Not with his voice too. In-ho thought, alarmed. His fingers scrambled over the keyboard before it was too late.

In-ho: No need.

In-ho: I’m here.

In-ho: It’s just… you’ve been too honest.

In-ho: Too bold.

Gi-hun: And honesty is good?

Seconds stretched with no answer.

They both typed in answers but Gi-hun came in first.

Gi-hun: It’s fine…

Then In-ho’s.

In-ho: Yes, honesty is always good.

It was a bit late of a response. He was conflicted to answer but there’s nothing wrong with admitting the truth, right?

Maybe he should add and reasoned out that his connection was lagging. He could feel Gi-hun is a little disappointment with him not responding.

Gi-hun: Thanks. I appreciate that answer… coming from you In-ho.

Gi-hun: You don’t even have to respond to everything else I message.

Gi-hun: I’m just rambling ‘cause I can’t sleep.

Gi-hun: I’m excited for tomorrow.

Gi-hun: And also nervous.

Gi-hun: But I meant it. Everything I said.

Gi-hun: I’m just happy enough you’re receiving it.

Gi-hun: Just wished you feel the same. Even a little.

Gi-hun: Even just share my sleeplessness. Haha.

In-ho: Please spare me that.

In-ho: I do. Feel the same. You saw my shades, right?

Gi-hun: Yes, I noticed. So you do hide your eye bags after all. Hahaha.

Gi-hun: Damn, perks of being VIP.

In-ho: It’s not prohibited to wear one. Anyways, what should I prepare for tomorrow?

In-ho: Clothes and time? You never said anything.

Gi-hun: Uhm… I’ll message you the details tomorrow.

Gi-hun: It’s a surprise?

In-ho: Whats with the question mark? And that feels more something to dread than to look forward to.

In-ho: Can’t you really tell me?

In-ho: So I can be ready and sleep peacefully?

In-ho: I’m not built for surprises, especially coming from you.

Gi-hun: I really have nothing to say… but just prepare yourself for me?

In-ho: Not helping. What if I oversleep?

Gi-hun: You’re overthinking. Just try to sleep, and I’ll handle the rest.

Gi-hun: You’re mine tomorrow.

In-ho: You’re scaring me, and you know it.

Gi-hun: Haha. I’m not.

Gi-hun: Maybe a little.

Gi-hun:  And that’s good ❤

Gi-hun: It’s late. Good night. Sleep well.

In-ho: Alright. Just don’t push too much with the surprise.

In-ho: Good night too. See you tomorrow.

He survived it.

For now.

But if this is what ‘casual’ for them is… he’s screwed.

Lights were off. A thick, soft blanket covered In-ho, yet it was never quite warm or comfortable enough. It wasn’t just his stiff body, lying too cautiously to protect his right shoulder. Anxiety gnawed at him worse than the pain. The ticking time toward tomorrow tormented both his mind and body.

No. Not tomorrow. It was now.

Almost 5:00 a.m., and In-ho hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. He was surely fucked. No chance of rest now. A great way to start his long-awaited doom date.

Then a call. Hyun-ju.

“Hyun-ju, it’s five in the morning! Why are you calling? You know well I’m not sleeping since—” he moaned exasperated.

Laughter echoed through the line. In-ho rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I’m hanging up.” he muttered.

“No! Wait! Sorry. It’s just—” Hyun-ju giggled, “—funny to imagine you all worn out over this silly date of yours.”

“Just—just tell me what you need in this unholy hour when people should still be resting.” In-ho ordered.

Then came a knock.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Hyun-ju!” His rasp carried sharp irritation. “This isn’t funny anymore. Not even for a joke. I haven’t had goddamn rest for three days!” He rambled on, already hurrying out of the bedroom, snapping the lights on as he headed for the main room. “You know how badly I’m taking Gi-hun’s proposal date!”

The knocks grew louder, insistent.

“Are you for real!? You just happen to wake up early to bother me? As if you haven’t done enough teasing me this entire vacation.” His voice dripped sarcasm and frustration as he went on.

The drumming continued and went straight into In-ho’s head.

 “Stop!! Don’t bang the door. You’ll wake the other guests, and I won’t save your ass for this.” He growled into the phone.

But Hyun-ju only hummed, laughter leaking through. “Just hurry and open the door,” she said gratingly.

In-ho’s steps quickened as he closed the distance. His hand gripped the knob in anger as he unlocked, ready to scream at her in person. “Damn it, Hyun—”

“Hey.” Hyun-ju’s voice called out.

Footsteps coming in.

A palm pressed to In-ho’s chest, pushing him back one step. In-ho froze, phone still at his ear, lips refusing to move.

The door clicked shut.

“Thank you, Hyun-ju,” lips leaning in, too close, almost grazing In-ho’s cheek, whispered.

 “You’re welcome!” her voice cheered through the phone. “Have fun, you two! Bye, Gi-hun!” Then the line cut.

In-ho’s hand lowered slowly. His gaze finally broke from the door, pupils searching to meet the uninvited visitor standing intimately close.

Gi-hun blinked once their eyes locked. His fingers clung lightly to In-ho’s nightwear as he held on. He swallowed. His upper body pulling back just slightly, though his hands never let go.

 “Hi.” Gi-hun’s voice was soft, almost sheepish, as he looked down at him.

In-ho exhaled. Staring, immobilized. He needed seconds.

In silence, he simply took in Gi-hun’s presence.

He wore a plain white shirt. Not tight, not too loose. Thin enough to breathe comfortably, but enough to outline his god-given assets. Below, ash grey sweatpants. Simple sleepwear, paired with ruffled hair, bangs curling away from his forehead messily. His eyes were tired, his brows were unruly. His dry lips pressed almost a pout.

God he was a sin.

 “What’s with this now?” In-ho muttered, tired and done, finding his voice again. “It’s five a.m. When you said surprise, is this what you meant?”

“Yes,” Gi-hun mumbled, then his eyes flicked heavenward, giving himself away. “No... I mean, sort of...”

In-ho sighed loudly, a yawn slipping through. “Just tell me the plan. I’ll go change so w—”

Gi-hun let go of his hands and looked at him softly. It irritated In-ho how stupidly weak he became under that gaze.

“Let’s sleep together,” Gi-hun said, blinking before finally letting go and shyly looking away.

In-ho just stared. Everything stopped for him in that moment; he stared wide eyed in confusion.

Gi-hun grabbed his left hand, holding it tight with his cold fingers, and pulled him toward the bedroom.

“Do you have a big bed? Big enough for two?” His words trembled, nervous but unrelenting. “Something as big as the one you had in your home? Uhm… but if not, we’ll just have to work it out. I guess.” He stuttered, and then awkwardly chuckled out of anxiety.

In-ho followed, still in a state of shock, completely overtaken. He just watched Gi-hun’s back as the man continued his babbling, while In-ho’s own feet yielded thoughtlessly. Gi-hun’s ear tips were red, strands of tangled hair failing to fully cover them. In-ho could almost feel the warmth radiating, just from staring.

Want to bite…

They entered his room. The door behind them followed almost closing completely. Gi-hun stopped, and In-ho’s heart leapt. Gi-hun’s grip squeezed his hand, and In-ho’s fingers flinched.

His gaze landed on the bed, the blanket tussled. They are now just three steps away.

Gi-hun took another step, pulling him along.

“Gi-hun, wait—” In-ho finally uttered, consciousness clawing its way back, enough to let him speak.

A tense pause fell between them. Gi-hun remained, still with his back turned. In-ho gasped as tremors consumed him, his chest heaving, calm out of reach.

Gi-hun turned. His eyes locked on him. He stepped closer, eliminating their gap. Too close. In-ho could feel his heart in his throat. Gi-hun’s chest grazed his. His hand slipped free, creeping behind In-ho— click.

The light went out.

Darkness blinded, but the nearness made everything sharper. Gi-hun’s breath kissed his cheek. The sound of their clothes brushing, their hands dangling.

Another shift. Not even a step. Just an inch, closing the final space.

Gi-hun slid his hands to In-ho’s lower back and resting his head against his shoulder. One hand braced against the wall near the switch, sliding further back just enough to reach the knob.

The door slammed shut.

Wood pressed firm against his back, Gi-hun’s body caging him. Hopelessly pinned, In-ho’s shoulders sank, surrendering. His only focus—breathe, and not letting his legs give in as Gi-hun slumped against him.

His knees weakened, his slippered feet sliding on the floor. Sanity teetered with each tightening clutch of Gi-hun’s fingers on his back, each warm breath spilling directly onto his collar.

“Let’s sleep,” Gi-hun whispered again. Too soft.  A plea warm enough to burn his skin.

Gi-hun angled his head “I promise I don’t intend on doing more… In-ho.” he whispered. “I just need sleep. And I need you for this.”

Gi-hun pulled back just enough to stand straight, his hands leaving In-ho’s back to take his hand instead. “Please?”

The silence, the darkness—it made everything colder than it should. Gi-hun’s hand in his felt like more than warmth, it felt like an offering. Tempting and irresistible.

In-ho squeezed back.

“Just sleep?” he repeated, asking for assurance.

Gi-hun nodded, smiling faintly. Even in the dark, with his eyes slowly adjusting, In-ho caught the glint of his gaze.

When Gi-hun requested to sleep with him, assuring it would be nothing more than literally sharing a bed, In-ho never expected it to turn out like this. He should have asked what “nothing more” really meant, because everything about this felt like—more.

mmhhhh…

In-ho heard him moan below. Gi-hun lay on his side, head beneath his chin, pressed close and unremorsefully breathing him in. His face rested on In-ho’s chest as he nestled lower, legs tangled and locking him in place. His ankle hooked around, toes brushing lightly against In-ho’s foot in time with the hand that clung to his clothes.

His face pressed deeper, nose nudging his collarbones. Lips trembled with each gasp, leaving damp heat on his skin. He sniffed at In-ho like a madman. Only seconds after they lay down, Gi-hun was already defying their compromise, making everything feel more intoxicating.

It felt like being taken advantage. Violated, even. In-ho had no choice but to suffer through it. And yet… he couldn’t deny how infectious it was, how equally maddening it felt to allow himself to be taken this way by Gi-hun.

“Can you lift your arm?” Gi-hun asked, looking up at him. In-ho didn’t need to see him—he just felt Gi-hun’s lips brush upward against his chest, and then his chin replaced later.

“In-ho?” Gi-hun called, his mouth now planted on the bare skin of In-ho’s neck. He could feel Gi-hun’s lips grazing him.

Gi-hun spoke softly, calmly, whispers as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to sleep like this. Except it wasn’t. Never before. Gi-hun had always faced the window, not In-ho. It had always been In-ho capturing him from the back, always the clingy one. Not this.

In-ho swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and Gi-hun felt it through the contact on his neck. He followed it instinctively, leaning further, meeting that tense pulse with his partially open mouth.

A kiss.

A soft smack of his lips that both of them heard in the midst of silence.

In-ho pulled away, using his right arm that was still healing to hold Gi-hun and create some space. But he rushed to let go as pain struck, making not just his shoulder but his whole body flinch.

“You said we were just gonna sleep!” In-ho complained, his hand still aching from his cuffs touching the part of his throat that had been invaded. It burned, warmth lingering in his skin.

“Everything you’re doing is beyond ‘nothing more’ as you promised! And that…” His voice hitched, hoarse. “That was a kiss!” he accused, realizing his words echoed a scene from before, repeating again.

Gi-hun’s hand, clinging to his clothes, gripped tightly, didn’t let go even as In-ho pulled away. In-ho looked down at it, waiting as he tried to calm himself.

The culprit shifted, scooting closer. He looked up and connected with In-ho’s eyes.

“It’s not a kiss. I swear,” Gi-hun whispered. “I just… wanted to smell you, and you moved, and…” He tried to explain, regretful.

In-ho didn’t trust him. His body can still replay exactly how Gi-hun’s mouth had moved, lightly sucking before freeing his skin. It had been a kiss. But then again, was it unintentional? He was no longer sure. In-ho couldn’t trust himself, not with his clouded mind, while Gi-hun seemed genuinely apologetic.

Understanding the situation and understanding that the two beings he didn’t trust the most were together like this—In-ho understands that this date, starting with sleeping together with his vague consent, was already setting him up for ruin by the end of the day.

“I won’t do it again.” Gi-hun claimed.

In-ho’s nerves were spiraling, his body and mind failing. He could no longer maintain full control of himself. Exhausted and restless, he remained unresponsive in his silence.

Gi-hun noticed In-ho’s state. He could feel how tense his body was in his hold and how short and shaky his breaths were. A pang of guilt washed over him—his intention, for both of them to get the real and proper rest they badly needed, was being overstepped by his own greed.

Sleeping with him had never been part of the plan until an hour ago. He couldn’t sleep, and even if he did rest, he woke up multiple times each night from dreams still filled with In-ho. It was insanity. He couldn’t catch a break from him, and he knew damn well the plug he needed was the same person. That’s when the idea hit him as he paced depletedly in the hall at 3:30 a.m.

Il-nam had said In-ho was his for the whole day—the day had started at 1 a.m., and maybe he might as well take this opportunity to claim his prize. In-ho had mentioned he was having trouble sleeping too, so this could work for both of them. Besides, with him in such a weary and unstable state, he would probably be completely dysfunctional and waste the day. Bizarre as it seemed, this was the only, and perfect solution they needed to actually start their date.

He’d just try it. Take the chance.

Gi-hun continued pacing back and forth, his finger between his teeth, gently biting it while waiting for Hyun-ju to reply, if she was still awake.

If she responded, it would be his go signal from the world to proceed with the plan. He wouldn’t call and disturb her. He’d just message her, to be fair.

Once. Twice. Third. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth…

Talk about being fair—he’d messaged her multiple times.

This was crazy.

He missed In-ho so badly—no, that wouldn’t even begin to describe how overwhelmed and desperate he felt right now.

The past days had been a mix of excitement and nervousness, but now, the night before the promised date, he was hit with an anxiety attack—and something else. Emotional? Yes. Irritable? Absolutely. Aggressive? Close. Obsessed? He couldn’t even comprehend that he could feel like this until now.

He was having withdrawal from In-ho.

Or something like it—an addiction breaking his mind.

As odd and unexplainable as it was, he no longer cared. He no longer cared for definitions or labels. At the very crucial moment he should have been resting, he was trembling and couldn’t calm himself. His brain wasn’t helping—constantly pointing the full blame for this panic and these feelings at In-ho. His urges for that man were now swallowing him whole. He wanted him now. No, he needed him.

Need him. Need him. Need him.

Need him. Need him. Need him.

He needed to suffocate himself in his smell and the heat of his skin. Needed to bite him, to hear him close in his body, to diffuse something inside him.

He stopped pacing.

That was wrong. God, it was so wrong.

He didn’t want to ruin his chances with In-ho. Going haywire, overtaken by these emotions, would do nothing but harm him.

“I won’t do it again… In-ho. I promise. Kick me out of the bed and cancel the date if I do it again.” Gi-hun said again, voice trembling slightly, hoping it’d be enough for In-ho to let him stay.

In-ho exhaled, letting a moment stretch between them. The tension hung in the air, heavy, before slowly easing.

Gi-hun watched him shift in place, muscles relaxing little by little, his own hold loosening as In-ho’s body stopped flinching.

“We should clear things for this… sleepover date of yours before we proceed,” In-ho said, calmer now, though still sharp. “Or else you’ll cause more trouble, and we’ll end up squabbling instead of sleeping. So… tell me. Exactly what do you want?”

Gi-hun blinked, then a small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. Relief surged through him.

“I want you close,” he murmured. “Close enough… to smell you.” He admitted it again, heat creeping into his chest as he realized just how shameless the words sounded. Still, he wouldn’t take it back… because he needed it.  And while In-ho was letting him, he wanted… more.

“And touch you? Can I… your skin…?” Gi-hun whispered, voice low, almost shaking.

In-ho sighed, lifting his broken arms to rub his head, a faint tension in his jaw.

“You do know asking to sleep with me as the start of the date is already weird as it is… and ridiculous,” he said slowly. “And now you want me to be your body pillow, limbs trapped against me, some… skinship—” He groaned softly. “Are you planning to kill me?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then softened slightly. “But… fine. Humor me. Elaborate.”

“I don’t mean anything… truly inappropriate,” Gi-hun whispered, voice soft, fragile, almost swallowed by embarrassment. “I said I wanted to smell you… I want your skin for it, if you’ll let me.” He paused, fingers fidgeting in between their space, “Your hands would be enough… so I won’t repeat the same mistake I made with your neck. I just… I just want your warmth. Your smell. Beyond the clothes…” His lips trembled. “I need it. To calm my nerves.” He confessed.

In-ho’s hand, with his broken shoulder, flinched from resting just beside Gi-hun’s hand. He lifted it, reaching.

Gi-hun would hold it.

He would cling to it all through the night. 

He would nudge his nose to his palms, and his lips would graze his fingers.

Mid-air, he withdrew, clenching his hand into a fist and pressing it against his chest.

Not his hands… hands that he had been using for—

He saw how Gi-hun reacted to him pulling away. He was hurt.

He regrettably, hurriedly unbuttoned the top button of his nightwear shirt.

“No kisses. Ok!?” In-ho grumbled as he opened it further. “No nipping or biting.” He reminded, frustrated and tired, looking at him while opening his arms. “Use my neck… I don’t want you pulling my hand again and damaging it.” He exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t mind your other—”

“Just come here!”

Chapter Text

There was a rustle. In-ho blinked awake at the subtle noise. He lay flat, facing the ceiling. A snore. Someone still deep in sleep. He didn’t move, just tilted his head slightly to take in the situation before his heart and mind could stir and panic.

There, beside him, just as he remembered before closing his eyes—Gi-hun, curled close, one arm draped loosely over him, face pressed into his left shoulder. In-ho let the sight sink in. That peaceful face. So beautiful. His hair ruffled and fluffed, bangs longer now—not as long as their first meeting, but longer than when he’d cut it short to ruin it.

In-ho looked away, refusing to dwell on a past that brought no good. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disturb Gi-hun’s sleep. He wondered what time it was because he was sure they had both rested quite long enough and indulged in the sleepover that Gi-hun had surprised him with.

He could only see the floor beside him, where the light lightly filtered in from the closed curtain at the corner of the room. It had a striking warm glow. It must have been noon already, and his stomach ached, starting to grumble, hitting its limit. It had been over twelve hours at least since he’d last eaten. His last intake was indeed yesterday’s lunch. He had skipped dinner. His gut had already been full of anxiety and dread for the date, so he’d rather let it remain empty than waste it and end up sick.

Speaking of anxiety, Gi-hun’s state and everything from last night now made In-ho worried, even now that things have settled.

Gi-hun didn’t even take minutes to shut down. Once he opened his arms for him and let him access a bit of skin on his chest, which he regretted from the moment he removed his top button—Gi-hun planted his face fully and gratified his self. The first entry, the first contact of his nose and lips on his neck had In-ho snapping his chin up, drowning under the flood of sensation. He bit his lips, desperate to resist, and not be consumed by pleasure, but half his body was already folding. His broken arms clung to Gi-hun for anchor, while Gi-hun followed and covered the distance of each part of his flinching body away.

Nothing forceful, nothing beyond what was agreed. Gi-hun is just agonizingly slow, deliberate Each breath on his skin, each nuzzle, each hand sliding along his sides to his back, all of it relentless. In-ho’s grip could only tighten and tremble on Gi-hun’s arms, his sanity giving in.

None of them talking just made everything worse. The room was filled with barely audible noises, but stil it was too loud in their zero proximity. Gi-hun’s snuffling sounds, his nose and lips nudging on his skin. In-ho’s muffled voice hitched, his body shuddering as he sank into Gi-hun’s hold and shifted in the bed.

As promised, never a kiss. Gi-hun’s face leaned down to create distance, mouth opening, frantically gasping to breathe. Like a diver taking short breaks, still surging, going deeper on each return. Never his lips, but Gi-hun’s warm, hungry breath, still kissed, left damp and marked his exploration on In-ho’s skin. His sharp collarbones, the dip at the base of his throat, the strained veins stiffened as he snapped his jaw up to allow access. The pulse in his neck felt it would combust and burst as he Gi-hun’s upper lips lingered.

God, the edging was killing him. In-ho could feel his clenched jaw biting his lips, fighting back but losing.

Can’t—

Stop.

Too much.

Don’t—

Stop.

Please…

Gi-hun…

Don’t stop.

I need more.

Just—

Bite me.

Fuck… just bite me instead.

He wanted to say something to make him stop, but he knew if he let his mouth break, instead of words, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from moaning and asking for things he would regret.

He didn’t pull away.

As unbearably slow and torturously long as it felt, it was just minutes. In-ho suffered enough until Gi-hun slowed down and melted on his chest. Breathing more evenly now, calming from the torment of his needs, Gi-hun has fallen asleep.

In-ho’s shoulder slumped down along with his body. Gradually, he relaxes from the intensity he had endured. He could feel Gi-hun’s locks of hair brushing rhythmically against his chin. Each rise and fall of his serene breath tousled his strands of hair in his neck.

He scooted closer, settling his chin on Gi-hun’s head.

“Thank God, you’re okay now…,” he murmured, mouth pressed in between the curls.

“Sleep well…” hewhispered, in the middle of Gi-hun’s soft snores.

Eyes closed, hands gliding until they reached the curls, tucking the strands behind one ear as he always did. Ending with a kiss. Something for In-ho alone to know.

For payback… he muttered to himself, breaching his own condition.

Gi-hun had been unfiltered about craving his scent—too much, almost unbearable. But In-ho understood. He’d seen it in those trembling hands, those tired eyes. He felt him, knew those feelings too well to even deny him, even if it cost him himself.

Gi-hun moaned softly, jaw shifting like chewing, tongue clicking faintly as his lips parted.

Are you hungry too? Please don’t bite me while you’re still sleeping… In-ho sighed and smiled.

Then Gi-hun inhaled sharply, as if he was having a hard time, and braced both hands in In-ho’s arms. As he sank back, relaxing after the breath, he scratched his nose on In-ho’s shoulder. His face twisted, brows furrowed, and his nose scrunched. Still pressed against In-ho’s, he grunted, then choked on a small cough from his throat.

Cute.

Then In-ho laughed softly, unable to control the slip of reaction. It was out loud, beyond his safe place of just in his mind.

The two hands clinging are now wrapping him more, fingers tightening their grip on him.

“Morning… how was the date… so far?” Gi-hun mumbled, words minced, eyes still closed, burrowing his face into In-ho’s shoulder.

In-ho didn’t answer. He kept silent, taking advantage of the last moment he could stare and appreciate him without contorting his face or holding back.

“Please don’t tell me you just watched me this whole time while I slept…” Gi-hun yawned, his mouth opening against In-ho’s shoulder.

“I just woke up,” In-ho answered. “Absurd as it is… I had a decent sleep. So in that case…” he paused and sighed. “I’d say half of the date is a success—with your surprise sleepover.”

Gi-hun giggled, nuzzling and humming.

In-ho wanted to reprimand him, to make him stop being this comfortable with him. But with him smiling and so warm like this, just with his shoulder, he let it go, and stared at the ceiling instead.

He’s still half asleep. In-ho reasoned to himself.

“What do you mean half?” Gi-hun questioned.

“It’s almost noon. We slept for a good six hours,” In-ho explained, gazing at him with just his eyes from time to time.

“Oh…” Gi-hun stopped. In-ho could feel the flutter of his eyelashes. “Still, not half… I plan to have dinner with you… so I’m staying till late or…” his eyes now blinked open, peering at In-ho.

The pause made In-ho glance back at him. Gi-hun’s mouth quickly hid in his shoulder. Then a small movement In-ho could feel—a smile, a smirk.

“Or I could stay the night… up to you.” Fire flickered in his gaze, the kind to burn, if given the chance of  right person and the right moment to spark and consume.

And it was In-ho.

Heat flushed his face, nowhere to hide. He only stared back with a displeased expression, lips pressed into a pout. Then he pulled a sarcastic, grimaced smile, fingers gently pushing Gi-hun’s forehead away from his attachment in his arm.

“Noooooo… wait!!!” Gi-hun protested, forcing his face back to where his warmth had settled through the night, hands locking in place on In-ho’s arms.

“We’ll break this other arm of yours—stop!! Let me—just a minute!!! No, seconds!!!” Gi-hun bargained desperately while In-ho was already pressing his full palms on his forehead.

Gi-hun is giggling. Sending some butterflies in his stomach.

In-ho groaned and gave up, landing back flat, hand on his mouth, easing his nerves as he breathed.

Gi-hun’s hands remained clinging but slowly loosened. He peeked up at In-ho’s frustrated sigh.

“I have a question… In-ho,” Gi-hun said, slipping into his brooding.

In-ho didn’t answer. Didn’t acknowledge him.

“I’ll let go after you answer,” he offered, making In-ho glance back as they shared a connection. Gi-hun made it clear he was serious.

In-ho scratched his neck exasperated. “What?” he asked.

Eyes closed again, Gi-hun sniffed at the shoulder of his shirt, deep and deliberate.

“Is your laundry woman still the same as before?” His eyes closed, nose buried in In-ho’s shoulder. “Why is she part of the VIPs at your event?” His eyes snapped open, catching In-ho wide-eyed, frozen. He looked away, refused to meet his gaze.

Gi-hun’s eyes narrowed, turning to a glare of disapproval. “You tell me why right now, or I won’t let go of this arm!”

In-ho stayed silent. He huffed, about to speak, but Gi-hun cut him off.

“Don’t make me threaten you this early… I just want to know. And I feel like there’s more to it, and… I think I’m a part of it.”

In-ho gulped something imaginary blocking his throat. “You’re not part of it. It’s purely business,” he explained, still avoiding Gi-hun’s gaze.

“She’s the one who saw us, right!?” Gi-hun was already shifting, his voice rising. “Is she using ‘IT', to blackmail you!!?? Does she have photos or videos of us!!??” His face started to pale.

“NO!” In-ho panicked, moving closer to reassure him, hands on his shoulders. “It’s not… like that. She doesn’t have anything at all. I promise.” He caressed Gi-hun’s shoulders to ease him.

“Then tell me everything. VIPs are for execs, partners, shareholders. Why her?” Gi-hun pressed.

In-ho sighed, depleted. “She… uh… saw us.”

“Yes, I know that. She saw us multiple times—in inappropriate moments and inappropriate positions,” Gi-hun admitted, cheeks reddening. “She roams around even though you told her to just take what’s in the bin. She’s… a little hard-headed and nosy. But I thought you handled her?” Gi-hun stared at him, needing clarity.

“I did. I tried,” In-ho sighed. “But that was when we were too occupied.” He paused, recomposed, and continued. “When I had the chance, I offered her five times her pay. But she came in one day in my office claiming she has already resigned from her company and wouldn’t accept it.”

Gi-hun listened intently, eyes on him.

“She said she rather wanted me to fund her start in the same laundry business, and she wants me to be a permanent customer,” In-ho continued.

“And you agreed?” Gi-hun asked.

“Yes,” In-ho answered simply. “But I planned it to get a hold of her while personally checking if she held any evidence.”

Gi-hun nodded, chin and lips grazing In-ho’s arms.

“I saw all the CCTV footage in our room and the places she could’ve caught us… and she never pulled out a phone to take evidence,” In-ho confirmed. “I never confronted her. But she still felt one step ahead. Even if I haven’t mentioned anything, she’s already claiming, she never took anything of our “show”. So there was no need for me to check the footage.”

They stared in silence.

“So you were blackmailed with nothing but empty threats?” Gi-hun asked.

“No!” In-ho denied. “As I said… it’s business,” he exhaled. “I still needed to give her something… fund her in return for her silence. So I did. But—”

“But!?? There’s more?” Gi-hun asked eagerly needing answers.

“After her first laundry branch, she returned with a complete business proposal.”

“And—?”

“I listened, and she was convincing,” In-ho claimed. “Her business was quite successful, and she no longer wanted funding… she wanted a partnership. The rest is history. She now owns seven laundry mats in partnership with my company within a year,” In-ho finalized.

“And you just agreed that easily? She’s not harassing you?” Gi-hun asked, concerned.

In-ho shook his head. “Mi-nyeo is naturally good with words and managing her business. She’s smart enough to want a partnership, not money, for her business name to grow strong.”

“You sure about her? Even with seven branches, aren’t there more VIPs? Tell me if she’s troubling you so we can solve it together,” Gi-hun insisted.

In-ho smiled. “No need. She’s harmless if you know her and play along. A lot of the VIP positions I offered want to play like Il-nam, so there are spare seats,” he explained.

Everything was true. He couldn’t fully say he was being blackmailed, more like bullied. After all, what pushed In-ho to fund her and agree to the partnership were her nonstop teases about Gi-hun. She came not only into the peace of his home but also into his office, always too confident and casual, suffocating him with ramblings like sharp strikes meant to weaken him before she even started her real deal.

“Oi, where’s your boyfriend? Haven’t seen you guys doing it for a while.”

“Did he leave you? That twink of yours?”

“Man… you suck. You had it good with him. Why’d you let him leave you?”

“Did he break up with you!!?? Oh shit. With your face card and the money, and you still screwed up. HAHA!!”

“You look awful since your lover left you. Sorry for your loss.”

“Hey, I saw your ex! He—”

In-ho acknowledged her skills in business, but in truth, he agreed and gave everything just to shut her up. He shook the intruding thoughts away.

“Thank you for the concern,” he said, thumbs grazing Gi-hun’s elbow.

Gi-hun smiled shyly, nodding. Then his stomach grumbled. One hand left his hold to touch the source of noise, flushing red again.

In-ho laughed. “Now let me go, so I can call and order us food.”

…

It was already 11:45 a.m. They started eating a heavy brunch with garlic shrimp pasta and chicken piccata, baguette slices, and some cucumber-mint juice.

Gi-hun apologized for troubling In-ho to take cover for the meal when this was a date he should have been handling. In exchange, he offered to cook for him next time some specialties he learned at the pink hotel’s cook. It wasn’t fancy or comparable to In-ho’s restaurant food or even In-ho’s own cooking, but it would be nice for him to try Gi-hun’s. His giggle was sweet, disarming.

Next time…

That troubled In-ho, but he didn’t let his mind linger and just put more food in his mouth.

“So, mind telling me your real plan for the date now?” In-ho tried to start in the middle of their meal.

No answer.

“You don’t plan to sleep through the whole date, right?” In-ho pushed again, stopping to eat.

Gi-hun kept avoiding eye contact, stuffing his mouth with food, loudly munching like a hamster stocking cheeks, his cheeks so full he looked ridiculous.

“Gi-hun.” In-ho muttered sternly, leaning across the table, demanding attention.

“I have plans… sort of…” he whispered.

“Chew your food, please, before I have to stop you from choking to death before this date could even really start,” In-ho reprimanded.

Gi-hun swallowed it whole.

“Let me hear the plans,” In-ho ordered, seeing he was safe to speak. “This sort of plans you’re telling.”

Gi-hun grabbed his glass, drinking to buy time, but when it was empty, all that remained was confession.

“I have no plans for the day’s date…” he admitted.

Both elbows on the table, In-ho facepalmed himself.

“So we both stressed and didn’t sleep for this non-existing date after all?” In-ho asked, disappointed.

“No! Look!” Gi-hun stopped him, assuring. “My priority is… to talk with you.” He claimed seriously. “I have something prepared and set up for tonight’s dinner. Something private.”

In-ho let his hands fall back on the table and listened.

“For the morning schedule… I admittedly don’t have a plan. But I have an idea…”

In-ho took a deep breath, recomposing himself. “Tell me.”

“For today’s event in your company, each department will set up their booths, and we could check them out?” Gi-hun smiled, trying hard for In-ho to accept it.

Both of In-ho’s palms were back on his face as he slumped.

“You made a dramatic claim to take me on a day. We both have a day off to be away from work. And now we’re deliberately going to that exact place like a normal workday?” In-ho’s annoyance was limited in his words, but he was reaching his limit.

Gi-hun remained just smiling, almost apologetically.

“You could have asked me for help,” In-ho said more calmly. “I could rent a helicopter for a tour, or we could have gone island hopping on a private boat.”

“No, no, no,” Gi-hun complained, slamming his hand on the table. “That’s exactly why I didn’t want to ask. You’d just end up with the most ridiculous and expensive shit. I want simple. Like we did before—normal… walking, talking, no detailed plans, just a destination and things to explore. The event with stalls is good enough.”

Gi-hun slowly return to his seat from leaning to the table when he protested.

“I’m sorry if it seemed I didn’t put effort as you expected,” he apologized. “But I’m really stressed. And I need to handle work too. And you running in my mind is not helping either…”

In-ho was taken aback; suddenly he’s tied to his reasons for having no plans. Still, he stayed quiet.

“I tried to plan too, I just think there’s not much option here for a date that I want for us,” Gi-hun said. “It’s not about new experiences, being extravagant, or excitement. I just want to have you in peace, share time with you, and have fun.”

In-ho sighed and crossed his arms.

“I understand. But it still feels like nothing different from our normal day in the event,” In-ho claimed. “And people… my employees will definitely notice. Aren’t you scared something like what happened before?”

“Are you scared?” Gi-hun asked back.

“What?” In-ho was confused.

“You… are you scared if the same thing happened? If people put us in an article or took photos and posted it? Does it scare you?” Gi-hun asked.

In-ho paused. “No. I’m too powerful for such petty news. Even the one before wasn’t troubling. I can control any source or company.” He answered, not to boast but logically laying his side to clear things out.

“It’s you getting tied to it… I’m scared of,” In-ho confessed.

Gi-hun nodded, acknowledging.

“Then there’s no problem with our date. We can proceed,” he said. “I’m not scared. If you’re confident you can handle it, then I have nothing to worry too.”

He fiddled with the remnants of his pasta with his fork, clearing the mess.

“Tell them,” Gi-hun mumured. “If they ask, it’s up to you to answer. What am I to you?” He said stopping, settling his fork down.

He looked at In-ho. “You could say I’m some obsessed ex-attendant or even a random winner at your event… I couldn’t care less. You could tell them the truth or lies. Doesn’t matter. I have my own clear answer and I’ll stand by it.”

Gi-hun gave him a small smile full of resolved that made In-ho almost stop breathing.

He cleared his plate and took it to the sink, leaving In-ho speechless.

In-ho watched his back—still lean and thin, but somehow larger now. Aside from the admiration he always felt, jealousy crept in, reminding him how much better Gi-hun deserved. Unlike him… he was so far away. Gi-hun is a man with honor and dignity. A man he is unworthy of.

He kept staring. Gi-hun remained standing, back turned.

You’re growing farther and farther from me.

Each kindness, each show of love proves I don’t deserve to stand by your side.

I am a coward.

I’m sorry. 

It’s better for you to move on and find someone better—

Someone not me.

I’m sorry for being me.

They agreed to start prepping up and go at 1 p.m. In-ho, waking up so late, insisted Gi-hun use the bath first as he still had things to work on.

Sat on one of the couches, his typing echoed in the room as he felt lighter and his mind clearer after finally having a great rest. His work had piled up, and he was taking this opportunity to at least clear a chunk of his delayed responses on email.

His chest felt lighter. It was also warm even with the cold temperature in the room. The curtain was partially opened, letting the sun fill in and the blue sky set the open view. It felt so perfect that In-ho couldn’t help but lightly smile and put this energy into progress.

But it soon shattered.

He heard footsteps from afar, followed by a luring voice.

“In-ho…” Gi-hun called to him with a soft, pleading voice that meant something more.

He clicked send, finalizing one email before he took a deep breath and gazed up to see him.

His eyes widened in horror. His mouth hung open, choking on words that never came. Then he stared back down and covered his eyes with shaking hands.

“YOU—FUCK—WHAT—” he stammered, unable to form a sentence. “YOU’RE SHAMELESS!!” he screamed, still looking down, eyes wide. “Cover up!!” In-ho demanded.

“I’m covered!!!” Gi-hun retorted.

“You’re not!!” In-ho shouted again. “And at least fold your towel properly!! Not like that!!” he demanded.

Gi-hun looked down at himself, then at the long mirror outside the bathroom, taking in the full view of himself.

White towel below his waist, covering him just fine. He had just panicked in the middle of drying himself, realizing something troublesome, so he rushed outside with his wrap not tight enough, a glimpse of his hipbone, now holding it with his hand so it wouldn’t fall and strip him completely naked.

Gi-hun took it in.

Oh…

His hair wasn’t dried, still dripping wet over his face. His upper part had no coverage, damp and glistening under the lighting above him. He shouldn’t have been worrying about such things, but seeing even In-ho’s hand covering his face and flushed as well, he knew exactly what triggered him: In-ho and his thing with his chest and his waist.

Well, to be fair, he had a thing for almost every part of him. But Gi-hun was sure this particular sight, these particular assets, were the ones tempting In-ho, who was now hiding from him.

Gi-hun smiled bashfully, then turned it into a grin as he took in his own full view in the mirror.

In-ho still had the hots for Gi-hun.

“I forgot clothes. I have no clothes to change into.” Gi-hun turned, taking a step closer.

“You don’t have plans. And now you don’t have clothes,” In-ho exclaimed, fuming, still covering his face and looking down. “Yes. Just you and your body. Naked, stepping into my comfort zone, expecting me to be just okay with it.”

Gi-hun stopped walking and just laughed. As much as In-ho was looking too nice to tease like this, he truly hadn’t thought of or planned any of it.

“Is this your real plan? Flaunt your half-naked body in the middle of my job? Really?” In-ho snapped.

Yes, Gi-hun could do that. Yes, he might do that. But he didn’t. Not intentionally.

“Just… just look at you!!” In-ho removed his hand to take a glimpse. A pause too long as he stared at him, then blinked and forced himself to look away. “Tell me you’re not doing this on purpose!!” he grumbled.

If he was going to throw accusations like that at him, Gi-hun might as well use them.

“If you’re that bothered with my exposed top, should I raise this towel to at least cover my chest you’ve been looking at?” he said, grinning. “No worries, I’ll make sure my ass is still covered, but I won’t promise you won’t see a glimpse of my crack if I comply with your wish. Go on, take your shot, what do you want?” he dared him.

In-ho flushed even redder, not even looking. He almost looked like a little tomato, his hair strands poking up like a stem. Too cute, too angry tomato. Gi-hun had to laugh inside.

“In-ho…” he called once again, done with the teasing. “No… really, it’s not my plan. You do know how I looked when I came in too desperate for sleep, right?” he pointed out. “Sorry… can I borrow your clothes? …” he pleaded. “I mean, I can run to my hotel and grab clothes and return, but that’s just time wasted…” he added.

In-ho only grumbled, “Whatever. Suit yourself.”

In-ho took his time, just sulking, sitting in the corner of the shower. They hadn’t stepped out yet, and he felt like his heart was already worn out and beaten to a pulp by Gi-hun. Maybe it was just him being oversensitive, being this close and alone with him. A date outside, as he had mentioned, almost a normal workday, if they were surrounded by his workers, might ease this tension in him. It would be safer with many people, and he could have a breather from Gi-hun. He felt slightly lighter and started showering for real this time.

He was dressed once he stepped out of the bathroom. Not naked like someone. He was wearing an ivory colored fitted V-neck linen shirt with its two buttons undone. It was tucked into his light grey slim-fit trousers, while his hair was still a mess, damp from the towel.

He stopped in the middle of his steps. Gi-hun heard him and looked at him from the chair at the table, working on something with his phone. He stood and stopped to stare at In-ho.

Gi-hun wore a loose white gauze shirt with some all white flower vines embroidery at the bottom. It was paired with off-white wide-leg drawstring pants that reached his ankles.

He hadn’t seen what In-ho carried when he went to shower. And In-ho had let him freely choose from the wardrobe. They both knew it was all accidental that they were wearing shades of white, and neither of them wanted to make a fuss about it—even though it was obvious they now looked more couple-y in this clothing.

“I… I’m gonna change into something else…” Gi-hun awkwardly offered, walking closer back to the wardrobe.

“Why?” In-ho asked, continuing to walk and settle on his couch. “You look fine as is. Don’t trouble yourself to change—it looks great on you.” In-ho assured him. “If color bothers you, just tell them they’re all not white and they’re blind to not see the difference.”

Gi-hun chuckled. “Okay. If you’re fine with it,” he said, smiling, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “How about…” Gi-hun opened the cabinet and rummaged through the pile of hanging clothes. “Ah! Here.” He held it up, making In-ho peek at what he was holding.

It was his green jacket, numbered 456 in the games.

“That’s—they gave it to me when you left it with the shirt and pants. They took the shirt and pants but left the jacket for me, they said I hand it to you in case you want to take it as a souvenir,” In-ho explained, without Gi-hun questioning it.

“Oh.” Gi-hun muttered, reading too much into the over-detailing. “So I could keep it? Maybe I can use it, so I’ll have some color other than white for today. What do you think?” he said, looking at In-ho.

In-ho stared at him from head to toe, fingers resting on his chin. “It’s alright. One additional color is fine if you really want. But… don’t wear it. Just tie it on your waist if you want to bring it. You’re already wearing long sleeves, and even if it’s light, two is too much under this sun.”

Gi-hun agreed and followed In-ho’s suggestion.

As In-ho started sitting on the bed, blow-drying his hair, Gi-hun was still stuck at the wardrobe, staring at his footwear all piled in boxes.

“Can I borrow some slippers too, In-ho? My shoes don’t look nice with this outfit,” he asked, still on the floor, picking up the boxes one by one. “You have spares, right?”

In-ho, still busy, just glanced down at him. “Yeah, I have two sandals there. Take the leather ones—they’ll be good with your look,” he advised.

Gi-hun found them and cleared everything first before he started taking the sandals out of the box to try them on. In-ho watched him in amusement as Gi-hun slipped them onto his feet and took a few steps, testing them out.

“They’re nice… comfortable and light. Pretty good quality,” Gi-hun mused, smiling fondly at the sandals on his feet. Then his smile turned into a repressed laugh.

“Something wrong?” In-ho asked, curious, cleaning up, all ready.

Gi-hun just giggled completely. “It’s the size… it’s a little smaller,” he claimed. He could have left it at that, but he felt he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t say the funny part.

In-ho just stared at him, knowing all too well what was coming; his frowning face already braced.

“You know what they say about feet size correlating to… hm?” Gi-hun teased.

That was a literal below-the-belt joke. And even though In-ho tried to stay cool, fresh from the shower, he could still feel his face heating up from Gi-hun’s implication and baiting. He was baited for sure. He wouldn’t let such matters go, even as a joke.

“That’s baseless,” he claimed. “And you know damn well my size is great.” He had to add that, for his ego’s sake.

Gi-hun laughed. “I’m just joking, you know.”

“And I know you’re teasing me,” In-ho muttered, sighing. “Let’s go before you find more things to turn into a joke.”

Gi-hun forcibly shut his mouth to stop laughing, seeing that In-ho wasn’t taking it well and was disgruntled. He didn’t want to start their afternoon date like this.

Once they were already in the hall, In-ho locking the door behind them, Gi-hun felt he had to make up something to lighten him up.

“In-ho!” he called, a step away.

In-ho didn’t respond. He just stood and waited for Gi-hun to continue.

“I agree,” Gi-hun said.

In-ho tilted his head, puzzled.

“It was great,” Gi-hun beamed.

“I know it all too well.” Gi-hun added, voice soft, innocent-looking. A very contradicting sight compared to the filth he could unleash in a few words if he intended to.

Please don’t die. In-ho reminded himself, watching Gi-hun skip ahead, leaving him completely speechless.

Here goes nothing!!! Good luck!!

Chapter Text

At 1:40 pm, they had arrived at the beach station where the departments’ booths had been set up. Gi-hun’s steps grew wider and faster as they neared the entrance, and In-ho could only follow him from behind, amusedly. He just knew Gi-hun was smiling wide right now, beaming at the overall design and presentation of the place. It was something cute and yet funny, considering he had worked overtime last night helping out with this place himself, and still, the magic was there for him.

Gi-hun made a turn, skipping and almost bouncing in place. His cheeks were rounded with a pink flush as he smiled and lightly bit his lower lip, trying to contain himself.

Ah. There it was. Something too familiar, and yet the real thing could never compare to any of In-ho’s memories or imagination. Too alluring. It could almost freeze time once it caught him. Maybe it was not too late to propose a different date, something safer for his heart.

“In-ho!” Gi-hun called out to him.

Does he always have to mention his name whenever he wants to say something? Does he have to call him out warmly like this?

In-ho just smiled back at him, not letting any of his thoughts slip out.

“Hurry now!! There’s so much to see and so many people already!!” he exclaimed, taking steps closer and grabbing In-ho’s left wrist before pulling him to his side.

In-ho rolled his eyes. “The place won’t run away from you. We have all the time to check everything.”

Gi-hun bumped him gently, then raised one eyebrow. “Said by the man who’s never had experience in this type of date.”

He narrowed his eyes in response. “I have enough experience in this matter,” In-ho pointed out. “Not date experience, but there’s never been a year I didn’t have to partake in this type of activity. It’s a common part of my job.”

Gi-hun nodded while listening, but it also looked lightly mocking. “Let me guess, you walk through each booth with other high officials, take a photoshoot, smile for the camera while taking a bite of samples or receiving some handbags from their products?”

In-ho paused to think. He was right. Except he didn’t usually get the handouts personally, or else he would be overloaded. It was Myunggi or another assistant’s job to carry them. Aside from that, wasn’t that the plan? Skim through, buy things?

“Wasn’t that exactly what we’re supposed to do here?” he questioned genuinely.

Gi-hun leaned toward him, smiling at his question. “Yes. But you have me this time,” he said. “Also, I’m not with the CEO today. You’ll just be someone roaming and checking things. They don’t have to please you because you’re not part of the VIPs today and won’t judge their booths.”

In-ho stared at him with a still-confused expression. He didn’t get the difference. His face just made Gi-hun laugh more as he continued to drag him at a faster pace.

Once they reached the entrance, Gi-hun let go of his grip. Only then did In-ho realize he had been held all this time and had allowed it. A picture he wasn’t sure was good for the public if there was no reason, like they did in the game, to be holding hands.

He claimed he didn’t care about third parties seeing him or whatever they put him into. But what he cares is how Gi-hun see it.

He was failing. He had failed his own resolve multiple times throughout this date. He didn’t want Gi-hun to expect more from him. Yes, he could act more civilized now… but no, that wasn’t even appropriate description for the comfort they’d been indulging in. And that was also the exact point—he shouldn’t let this go any further. This was only a promise he was obligated to keep. A one-day promise. And by the end of it, when Gi-hun said everything he had to say… they would have to end it all there.

Gi-hun still had feelings for him. He knew it.

And he—he felt the same.

He loved Gi-hun.

But… love wouldn’t suffice in their case.

If there was a chance of returning to what they’d been before, he could hurt him once again and he wouldn’t let that chance happen…

Even if it cost them the second chance for their feelings.

“In-ho, are you alright?” Gi-hun asked worriedly. “Your shoulder, does it hurt or something? You look pale.”

In-ho didn’t respond, only held the shoulder Gi-hun was worrying about as escape.

“Maybe you should have worn your sling today. It might not be completely healed,” Gi-hun thought.

“I’m fine,” In-ho muttered softly, still shaken by his previous thoughts.

“You really don’t,” he claimed once again. “There’s even a crowd inside, they might get in contact with your shoulder…” Gi-hun considered. “Should I… be on your left side? So I can block people and keep it safe?” he offered.

Gi-hun moved to In-ho’s other side, his hand finding the dip above In-ho’s collarbone, higher than his shoulder. His fingers lightly clung at the edge of the V-neck shirt, caught between fabric and In-ho’s exposed skin, while his arm settled across his back.

“Like this,” Gi-hun stated. “I could protect you like this.”

In-ho just stared up at him, his warm presence right now overwhelming his thoughts.

“I don’t know,” In-ho murmured. “I’m not sure I should ask for protection from the same person who caused my shoulder to break twice now.”

“Don’t start, In-ho,” Gi-hun reprimanded. “I only did it once accidentally  in the games. The first time is your fault when you rolled out of bed,” he reminded him.

“I said cause…” In-ho defended. “But fine… just when we’re in the crowd.” In-ho agreed.

This was better than holding hands, and it was reason enough for them to be close.

 As they finally stepped in the entrance, they stopped to take everything in. They had an archway with “Innovation Fair 2025–Celebrating 101 Years of Hwang Corporation,” decorated with colorful bulbs. Around it were silver and green balloons. All over the place, aside from a variety of personal motifs and setups for each booth, were strings of small colored light bulb hanging. Around the corners, scattered at every stop, were colorful streamers waving in the wind.

Music played in the background by the hired DJ, while some personal music from certain booths clashed with the crowd’s noise. Even with the strong blows of wind carrying salty air, the appetizing smells lingered from the entrance.

“You look too excited.” In-ho glanced at him. “Thought you helped them out and saw this place beforehand?” he noted.

“I only made the props and carried them here. They mostly finished it this morning, so it’s my first time seeing it complete too. It looks great. Don’t you think?”

In-ho took another look at the place, nothing out of ordinary, from left to right, ending with Gi-hun on his side, smiling.

“Pretty,” he muttered, a slip of thought, and quickly ran his eyes away. Still, he caught Gi-hun’s eyes widen when he said it to his face.

His heart raced. He must say something to withdraw and not add fuel.

“Mr. Hwang!! Photo please!” a cameraman called out, interrupting them.

He forgot that the hired camera crews for the whole games were also covering the entire event. They had personally set up this one at the entrance so all guests, including outsiders, could have souvenir photos to claim at the end of the lines of booths.

Gi-hun was already closing in on his side, smiling for the photo. He wasn’t ready, but the first shot had already been taken. The photographer took a look and frowned. Must have been In-ho, too occupied with looking at his date.

“Another shot, please. With a heart pose this time,” he requested, and Gi-hun followed.

In-ho was not a fan; he sneered at the man. He never liked doing heart poses in photos. He felt like it never looked good on him. Gi-hun nudged him with his elbow.

“Come on now. Just do it,” Gi-hun whispered, already making a circle instead of a heart with his long, slender fingers.

In-ho sighed and did the same, putting his two hands in front of his chest only for Gi-hun to laugh and make fun of it.

“You look like you’re holding a burger,” Gi-hun muttered, leaning down to see more closely while giggling.

In-ho snickered at him. “And yours looks like a donut that’s been cut in half.”

Gi-hun checked and even put his hands away to get a better view. Then he laughed once more. “It does look more like a donut than a heart!” he claimed, holding onto In-ho’s back while he laughed.

In-ho stood, deadpan, staring at the cameraman while Gi-hun continued laughing. It was as if he wanted to share a little of the suffering he was enduring, beyond the lenses, the ridiculous poses, and even his date.

In the end, they never got a proper photo. The second shot captured In-ho’s displeasure at his “burger” pose while Gi-hun leaned on him, caught mid-laugh.

Gi-hun clung to In-ho’s upper shoulder as they navigated the flowing crowd. In-ho could feel the press of his fingertips slipping under his shirt, eyes roaming as he tried to steer them both toward the next booth. It led them to the security team grilling oysters. There were no chairs, so people stood nearby, eating.

“Gi-hun!! Mr. Hwang!!!” someone called, and both glanced at the voice. It was old Geum-ja on next booth beside it.

As they walked toward her, she called again, “Yong-sik!! The President is here! Serve them your grilled oysters!!”

In-ho smiled, hesitant and almost apologetic. “Oh, no… no need, ma’am. We just ate,” he said.

Gi-hun tugged at him gently, his mouth pursed into a big, sad pout.

“Ah… Mr. Hwang, it would be a waste to skip these! Just try a few. Their booth worked with the locals to get these fresh oysters,” Geum-ja insisted. “And Gi-hun seems to want to try them… just do it for him, okay?”

In-ho was perplexed by how she worded things, how her way of urging him is to do it for Gi-hun. He was well aware their unusual relationship was rumored inside the company, some even having witnessed embarrassing real-time evidence back then.  But it was controlled, kept inside the company. He never dwelled on others’ opinions, as long as it didn’t harm the company or Gi-hun. Still, her small commentary made him think. It wasn’t just idle rumors to occupy office hours… were they being supportive? Was it because Gi-hun was a friend? And was that why they had helped him during the games, over their CEO?

 It was an interesting, comforting insight.

“Boss! First batch!” Yong-sik smiled nervously, handing In-ho a wooden platter with six already-opened grilled oysters.

While In-ho was still occupied, Gi-hun accepted it on his behalf.

“Place it here, Gi-hun. And check out our products too!” Geum-ja said, patting a big glass display at the front of the booth. Perfect as a makeshift table, since the oyster booth was crowded.

The smoky aroma of the oysters was irresistible. The flesh was plump, silky in the center, glistening, with lightly seared edges. Three flavors: plain, buttered, and lemon. Gi-hun picked one up, checking the temperature, then slurped a plain oyster in one go.

Though large, it didn’t fill his mouth entirely, but he munched with all his capacity, smiling as he chewed. “In-ho! It’s good!” he said, mouth full.

In-ho nodded, taking the shell from him and placing it back on the platter. “I got it. Please chew,” he said with a small grin too much fondness as watch him.

Once swallowed, Gi-hun wore that satisfied, dreamy look, eyes still fixed on In-ho. In-ho felt a hand brushing his left shoulder, Geum-ja offering tissues. He took one and dabbed the oyster juice from Gi-hun’s lips.

“You’re such a messy eater, as always,” In-ho muttered.

Gi-hun shyly chuckled. Then he took the tissue for himself, fingers brushing In-ho’s for a moment before In-ho let go and realized what he’d done. He turned away, facing the third person watching them. In-ho grabbed the lemon, squeezed it over the oyster, and ate it, settling the shell down like a tiny shot glass.

He covered his mouth as he chewed, both soft and chewy. The lemon balanced the saltiness, refreshing every bite. He picked up the garlic buttered one and slurped it. Creamy, garlicky, rich. The last one, gulped it. Raw and natural. Sweet, fresh, salty. Done.

He looked up at Gi-hun, who froze, eyes wide in awe.

“Yong-sik! Drinks!” Geum-ja called, and her son hurried over with two glasses.

In-ho downed one glass whole—before realizing it. He coughed and sputtered. Gi-hun’s hand pressed in comforting circles against his back as he cautiously sipped the other.

“It’s soju,” Gi-hun noted. Geum-ja shot a glare at her son.

“Do you have bottled water?” Gi-hun smiled at Geum-ja, then at Yong-sik, easing the obvious tension. “He’s just strained. No worries. This guy’s alcoholic, it won’t affect him,” Gi-hun joked, but In-ho stared at him in disbelief and betrayal.

“I meant he has a high tolerance, it won’t affect him,” he tried to save back.

Once calmed, Yong-sik and Geum-ja apologized profusely. In-ho waved them off with a hand. The only thing he disliked was his date’s pressed, entertained smile at his suffering.

They chatted briefly with Geum-ja and the maintenance staff in the booth as Gi-hun finished his oysters. The booth sold a mix of teas, coffees, herbal supplements, cookies, candied snacks, and other treats.

Geum-ja handed them a bag of samples, whispering something to Gi-hun before they left the booth. In-ho noticed a faint blush and a suppressed chuckle.

“What did she whisper?” he asked while they browsed sun hats. “You two were suspicious even with me just right beside you.” He picked up a white woven straw sun hat and plopped it on Gi-hun’s head. The taller man looked down at him.

“I saw her mouth my name. What did she say? Tell me,” In-ho demanded.

Gi-hun rummaged through the bag and pulled out two plastic packs of candied red ginseng, handing one to In-ho.

“I got two of everything, so we can have both,” he said. “This is their famous product. She said… it’s an aphrodisiac, like the oysters. But she was joking. Not implying… specifically for us… together.” He mumbled. “ She’s just explaining it to me, I think.”

In-ho read the description, confirming the aphrodisiac claim. He shoved the pack into Gi-hun’s chest.

“Take it all. I don’t want it,” he said.

Gi-hun frowned but didn’t argue.

“It’s fine by me,” he said softly. “But this is still a lot.”

In-ho watched him take hold of the two packets in his hands, the plastic rustling and the candied ginseng crackling as his grip tightened.

“Should I share this ginseng with someone else… not you?” Gi-hun asked, his gaze deliberate, carrying a message his pause had left unspoken.

In-ho felt heat rush to his neck at the deliberate innuendo. “Do you have to word it like that?” he muttered, annoyed.

Gi-hun smacked the package back onto In-ho’s chest. “Just take it. It’s a gift from your employees. She’s just teasing us. Don’t overthink, or the heat will get to you.” He took off the hat and placed it on In-ho’s head, patting twice with a smirk.

As they continued touring the booths, they ran into Hyun-ju’s group in the middle of the crowd. She was with Jun-ho, Mr. Park, the captain of the boat they usually rented for fishing, and the recruiter.

In-ho noticed how Gi-hun looked at the supposedly weird stranger in a suit on the beach. Oddly, the same person was staring back at Gi-hun. An evident tension hung between them that everyone could notice.

In-ho slipped his hands around Gi-hun’s waist, circling behind him and settling his fingers firmly on his sides. Only then did Gi-hun shift his focus back.

“Hey, we should have a photo since we’re all here, and Gi-hun’s here too!” Hyun-ju snapped, breaking the eerie mood.

She immediately walked forward, holding up her phone. She glanced at Jun-ho, prompting him to follow, and pushed the others forward. They soon watched their reflection, trying to fit together on the screen for the photo.

Few shots taken. The two groups parted as soon as they crossed paths.

“In—“ Gi-hun stopped midway.

“What’s with the way you looked at him? Do you know each other?” In-ho asked sternly.

“Oh. Him? The recruiter?” Gi-hun questioned.

In-ho stopped walking, hearing him confirmed the alias. “How do you know him?” he asked again, softer this time.

“That man’s been loitering around since day one,” Gi-hun answered, a note of distaste in his tone. “He seems nice and charming, with his demeanor and his suit.”

Charming? In-ho narrowed his eyes at the word and remained silent.

“My friends and co-workers got tangled up in his games. He offered money if they won, and slapped them if they lost at a ddakji game,” Gi-hun explained. “I called him out for it, and he said he would stop if I won at least once.”

“You should have reported him,” In-ho murmured, agitated. “Did you play? Did he touch you?” His look mixed concern with warning.

“Oh no… I… might have,” Gi-hun chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “But I was called out, and we all told the others so they wouldn’t fall for his ploys. Although some did claim they got real money, as he had promised.” He added, “He is such an eccentric person.”

In-ho sighed, hands on his head as a dull ache grew, while his fingers pressed deeper into Gi-hun’s sides. Gi-hun was slightly pulled closer.

It was the thing Gi-hun had wanted to mention before being interrupted. As nice as it felt, In-ho’s arms all possessive and claiming, he was concerned with In-ho’s broken shoulder, blocking him instead of him protecting it.

He was occupied. Every time In-ho focused on other things, his body instinctively reacted subconsciously.

Gi-hun leaned into the touch, savoring it.

He would let go of him.

As soon as In-ho had the choice, he would let go of him.

A bittersweet thing to understand at this moment.

“Is he a friend of yours?” Gi-hun broke his thoughts. “He’s with Hyun-ju and your brother.”

In-ho simply nodded. “I mentioned him before. He’s a friend I met at my therapy. He’s still a little loose. As fun as he may be, and I do find his quirkiness, unreadable personality, and logic interesting, I can’t trust him when it comes to you,” he claimed, pausing. “Or my friends, or family—or things important,” he added. “Not when you’re not familiar with him.”

Gi-hun remained just listening.

“He even fooled me once, acting as a therapist on my first day. Only to realize he was scheduled too, and he’s a regular client.” In-ho smiled at the memory. A ridiculous situation, and just as ridiculous a person, he randomly found on the verge of his madness—scared, when he first ever sat and took the step to confront his demons.

Gi-hun looked at him and smiled, understanding, the tension dissipating. “So you don’t know his name too? He just uses ‘Recruiter’ as his name? And you all call him that?” he asked, intrigued.

Another roll of In-ho’s fingers traced Gi-hun’s sides as he felt him relax.

“Yeah. He has his reasons and we simply respect and play along,” In-ho answered. “I had him checked too, just basic, since I wanted to know who I was letting in my home and meeting with my friends when he came along on our fishing trips. He’s fine. Just tons of unresolved stuff. But I felt like he’s coping and enjoying the thrill of it.”

As In-ho looked up, he saw Gi-hun’s gaze staring at him with fondness. And maybe he was a little too close, which made In-ho feel scared to breathe in their shared space. His grip tightened to hold his own senses. He felt and realized where his hand had settled. He let go slowly.

Gi-hun felt In-ho pull away, inching for space—his choice. It hurt a little, but it was a pain that lingered. “You should tell me more about him,” he said.

“Do you like him to ask for more?” In-ho murmured, a little broken.

Gi-hun chuckled. His hands slipped back to In-ho, just above his shoulder—his choice. He pulled him to continue their walk, not wanting to ruin their date.

“Silly.” He tugged In-ho’s hat down. “You said he’s fine if you know him enough. It’s so I don’t make you worry.”

They went back to their date, with Gi-hun still dragging In-ho to each booth, never missing a single one. Everyone welcomed the pair, and they didn’t have to spend a single penny, as vendors kept offering free samples and letting them take whatever they liked. By the time they reached halfway, their hands were already full of gift bags. In-ho suggested they drop off their haul at the executive department booth first, since it was piling up and getting heavy for both of them.

When they arrived, it was just a simple open table with a large umbrella, manned by Gyeong-suk and his daughter. The child sat on the table, eating ice cream. Gi-hun smiled at her, staring tenderly. Gyeong-suk returned the smile, understanding Gi-hun’s quiet concern and appreciation at seeing her healthy.

“Why are you the only one here?” Gi-hun asked, rummaging through one of his bags already on the table to get a few snacks and placing them in front of the little girl. “Where’s Dae-ho and everyone else?”

In-ho stayed silent, watching his date interact with the child, who smiled brightly at Gi-hun without saying a word. His own bags were left on the floor since the table was full.

“They’re all checking the booths. Ours doesn’t really require much assistance to operate, so we just take shifts to have someone here,” Gyeong-suk explained.

Gi-hun nodded. Gyeong-suk glanced at the far side, pointing to what he meant: three small photo booths, like the ones in malls, fitting only two people. One booth was already occupied.

“You should try it with Mr. Hwang. It’s a good souvenir. We built in summer and beach themes,” Gyeong-suk said. “Here, look at some samples,” he said, showing them photos of himself and his child. One session consisted of four shots.

Gi-hun grinned at In-ho, and soon he was already being forced into one of the booths.

In-ho only managed a helpless glance back at the man left behind before being dragged out of his own choice.

“I’ll have you handle our stuff. Have it delivered to my room,” In-ho requested, which was met with a smile and respectful nod.

Inside, the cramped booth had two seats, perfectly placed for the camera. Gi-hun leaned forward to swipe through frame options, while In-ho sat stiffly, his expression sour, just like the burger-pose photo they’d taken earlier.

“Hey… wipe that frowny face, and we’ll redo our messed-up entrance photos,” Gi-hun muttered, peering at him through the camera feed.

In-ho smiled, all handsome, teeth showing, eyes crinkling, posture perfect, hands neatly on his lap. Like a magazine cover, or when he tried to charm someone… maybe even make Gi-hun swoon, if only he knew any less.

“I hate you, you know,” Gi-hun grumbled, seeing through his fake façade.

In-ho sighed, the fake smile disappearing instantly. Still, his face wasn’t amused or happy, more like grumpy, being held against his will for another picture taking.

“Come on! Make an effort. Smile for real!” Gi-hun huffed, reaching forward to cup both of In-ho’s cheeks, thumbs pushing up to make him smile.

It started as a tease, a playful poke at his cheeks. Gi-hun only wanted to ease him from his obvious exhaustion. In-ho was surely not built for this kind of hopping around aimlessly, chatting endlessly with people about random topics. He was hilarious and cute all throughout. His perfect front was slipping fast, right in front of his employees, and it was a sight to see. Gi-hun couldn’t contain himself just remembering it, his impulsive urge went straight through his fingers onto In-ho’s face.

In-ho backed away, but Gi-hun’s hold was firm. It wasn’t a fair fight. He could only use his one undamaged hand, and not even to shield himself or push Gi-hun back. The hand was only enough to grip the edge of his seat, keeping his balance as he tried to pull his assaulted face away. The unstable seat didn’t help, and being at the entrance corner, inch away from the curtain, inch away from publicity, made his position completely hopeless.

Warmth spread across In-ho’s face. Panic rose, his heart racing in his chest. This felt like another new behavior unlocked. Gi-hun’s touchy, he’s clingy—he knows that. But those are all subtle, quiet needs. This—this is different.

In-ho stopped fighting back. Instead, his left hand, which had been stabilizing him and keeping him from completely falling off his seat, grabbed Gi-hun’s neck. The sudden weight imbalance pulled Gi-hun forward, making him panic. In-ho was heavy. Not properly grounded in his seat, Gi-hun leaned in closer, only to be dragged along with the pull. His feet scrambled to anchor them, but it was futile.

In-ho panicked as well, realizing the inevitable situation dawning. His weight was completely dependent, his bottom now slipping off the seat, his feet off the ground. He clung harder to Gi-hun, fingers clawing from his shoulder to his neck. Gi-hun, desperate, grabbed the nearest wall he could reach, his hand landing on the screen, triggering the countdown of four shots. Both of them froze, horrified, as the chime music began.

Their eyes met. Both looked like it’s the end of the world and nothing could save them from their doom. The world slowed down for them, a second of acceptance. At least they got each other in the end. Or maybe that’s what made it worse.

They toppled to the ground.

Half their bodies landing on the sand outside the booth. The curtain meant for cover came down with them, tangled around their limbs. Both groaned in pain, barely moving from where they had landed—Gi-hun sprawled on In-ho’s chest.

Then came the whirring of the machine, spitting out photo of the empty booth, only Gi-hun’s back and his red eartip caught in the first frame before they slipped completely out of view.

In-ho squinted up, cursing the blinding sunlight. But worse than that was the ring of onlookers forming around them—half of them his own employees, their faces a mix of concern and unreadable judgment at the compromising sight.

He gave Gi-hun a small pat on the back to urge him off. Gyeong-suk was already there, crouching to help, starting with Gi-hun. Once they were both sitting, taking a moment to collect themselves after the mortifying scene, In-ho pointed stiffly toward the booth.

“The seat was broken,” In-ho muttered, grasping for whatever scraps of dignity they could salvage.

Gi-hun leaned in from across the table to brush and fix the strands of In-ho’s scattered bangs. In-ho stared into space, sitting at the farthest table of the DIY booth they ran, hidden after their earlier mess.

“Hey… sorry about that…” Gi-hun muttered, pressing his lips together so it wouldn’t sound insincere, though his amusement at In-ho’s reaction lingered. “Let’s just make this our last stop, so we don’t have any more accidents and we can rest and shower before dinner.”

In-ho looked up. “But… there are still a lot of booths we haven’t checked. I said I’d go along with you.”

Gi-hun shook his head, smiling gently. “It’s fine. My heart is already full of fun and memories. And—” He reached forward, brushing a few grains of sand from In-ho’s neck with his fingers. “Your skin is already reddening from the heat and sand. You really need to wash off.”

In-ho lightly flinch then stiffened, but never moved away. He sighed. “Please don’t do that again.” His face flushed red as he glanced sideways. “Your hands are literally getting out of hand, and it scares me… imagining what worse you could do next,” he whispered.

Gi-hun wanted to tease him, but now wasn’t the time. He’d already made enough mischief at their last booth.

“I can show you…” Gi-hun muttered softly.

In-ho turned to him, sensing it wasn’t a teasing remark. His eyes lowered as Gi-hun turned his tablet toward him. On the screen was a chibi drawing of Gi-hun himself, uncolored but full of charm.

“I learned basic art,” Gi-hun shared, chuckling as he turned the tablet back. “Mostly cartoony and simple styles for designing tarpaulins at work. I’m going to gift this to you… in exchange for the ruin of our photos,” he said, looking at In-ho.

They were at the DIY booth for personalized refrigerator magnets. The tablets provided simple drawing tools, and once they were done, it would take only a few minutes to create the magnets.

In-ho knew the magnet was Gi-hun’s face, and that it was going to be a gift for him. Gi-hun was already busy on his own while he still hadn’t decided what to make for himself. He didn’t use fridge magnets, he knew they were for reminders, or for attaching something memorable. But he had an assistant for reminders, and he barely used his fridge anyway, since eating wasn’t much of a priority for him and his appetite was not good as well.

Gi-hun would give him his. Two magnets would be too much. He’d make something for Gi-hun in return, a little craft to exchange. He’d make the same—a mini In-ho. So even if it was a different version of him, at least this In-ho could stay with Gi-hun a little longer… even if it was just a silly fridge magnet.

Gi-hun beamed at him as he handed over the magnet he had made, pride shining in his eyes. In-ho smiled too as he passed his own to Gi-hun.

In-ho opened it and saw a huge face of Gi-hun—mouth open wide, taking up nearly half the magnet, brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut. The word ‘EAT’ was lettered in the space of his mouth. He could swear he heard Gi-hun yell it in his mind as his fingers traced the magnet, warm with amusement.

Gi-hun watched him, a small, soft smile on his lips, seeing that In-ho liked his gift. Only then did he reach for In-ho’s gift.

It was almost the same cute, chibi style as his own. In-ho was hugging Squidy, smiling in his black pajamas.

“Since you let me adopt Squidy…” In-ho murmured, looking at Gi-hun. He could feel the warmth spreading from him as Gi-hun held the magnet, a quiet, shared happiness filling the space between them.

6:30 PM

Gi-hun was resting on the couch as he urged In-ho to take a shower first, as he also had something to prepare and his clothes hadn’t arrived yet. In-ho nodded and followed as requested.

He was busy with his phone, coordinating and making sure things were already prepared as planned. Nothing fancy, a simple dinner just for the two of them, with consideration of distance and privacy. Hyun-ju was the one who helped him out to get the place. And a simple mention of In-ho’s name as one of the party to use the place made it smooth and, importantly—free.

They rented the whole hotel’s rooftop for the date. Although the setup Gi-hun wanted was just a simple chair, table, and a few decorations, his friends and co-workers who had known his plan after confessing his real relationship with In-ho volunteered to make it while he was on the date with him. They troubled themselves to run here after finishing their work. Ali cooked the dishes at Hyun-ju’s hotel room. Sae-byeok, Ji-yeong, and even Woo-seok, who was still in shock at the revelation as his slow brain was still putting two and two together with what he had witnessed, coordinated with the hotel manager and helped with the whole setup.

Gi-hun looked at himself in the mirror, all polished and clean. He wore navy blue crepe trousers and a suit jacket, and a henley white shirt underneath that was unbuttoned. He looked fine. Not too formal, not too casual. He heaved a deep breath as he felt his heart drumming, knowing the main part of the date was coming. His heart felt like it would leap out of his chest from nervousness. He just had to do it. Whatever the outcome was, he needed to tell him everything.

“Ready?” Gi-hun asked as he stepped out of the bathroom.

In-ho was sitting and texting. He wore a black fitted cashmere turtleneck paired with fitted black pants. He looked up to see Gi-hun once he heard him. He just stared at him in full adoration, making Gi-hun’s worry melt away as he smiled back.

Then a knock.

In-ho stood up, but Gi-hun rushed to it and claimed it was his, grinning.

Gi-hun stepped out the door, but it didn’t take seconds before he returned, just half his body peeking back inside.

“Come on, let’s go,” Gi-hun called him.

In-ho no longer answered. He should never expect less. After all, this was the moment of truth of their date. And with all Gi-hun did for the day, and all they’d been through—from starting their date, to a sleepover, to making a ruckus at his own company’s event… he should just accept that he could never be fully prepared for anything when it came to him. He’d enjoy it. This night was theirs alone. Not his past trauma. Not his future regret. Just them now. Just him and the man he had fallen for.

“What are you hiding there? Please, anything but a random trolley ride in the hall for commuting to our dinner date,” In-ho joked.

Gi-hun laughed. “Why would you think of that?” he asked, still with laughter in his words.

“Nothing. Just expecting the unexpected,” In-ho said, reaching him face to face at the doorway. His stares were quite the contrary of the whole day. They felt more emotional, longing, unhidden. Felt more like him.

Gi-hun was almost stuck under his gaze, unmoving from his spot. In-ho smiled at his obvious effect on him, then held the doorknob to open it.

There was no trolley or anything to scare In-ho in the hall as he scanned it. Then Gi-hun brought his hand forward, hidden behind his back all this time. He held a bouquet of red roses and eucalyptus, now settling in between them.

In-ho slowly looked up at him, a little in awe and flustered.

“For you,” Gi-hun simply said, holding it firmer as he felt his hand shaking.

He smiled, and finally accepted it. “Thank you,” In-ho said. He leaned down to take a sniff. “It’s beautiful… smells nice. I love it.” He finally took one more step outside and closed the door behind him, never leaving eye contact as the lock echoed loudly in the hall.

They started to walk onward. Gi-hun remained silent, stiff, their shoulders grazing each other with every stride.

“You look nervous…” In-ho whispered, peering at his side. He never looked back.

“You don’t know half of it,” Gi-hun muttered. “I think I’m gonna have a cardiac arrest any moment.” He then looked at In-ho with eyes glassy and wide. “I’m serious. I’m so old I can’t differentiate it from my feelings for you.”

In-ho shifted the bouquet from his right hand to his left, moving it away from the space between them. “Is that a punchline or a real one?” In-ho stopped to look at him concernedly.

“Real,” Gi-hun said. “But both, if it sounded like one too.” He tried to joke, but his voice was too stern.

In-ho let out a soft chuckle. “Do you… need a minute, or we could go back and ask for a nurse to check you first,” In-ho offered.

Gi-hun shook his head.

“I want this now,” he said firmly. “Just… if I really do get a heart attack, make sure I don’t die yet.”

In-ho pressed his lips, his grin softening. “I will,” he said, smiling gently. “I’ll follow you if you did.” He added it half-jokingly.

Once they were in the lift, Gi-hun clicked the topmost button. In-ho was confused and gave him a bemused look. Gi-hun just kept quiet, smiling.

Once they reached the top accessible floor, Gi-hun guided him to the corner of the building with the stairs. Finally, after a few stairways up, they reached their destination. A hotel guard was waiting, standing beside the metal doorway leading to the rooftop. The staff lightly bowed to acknowledge them before opening the door. Once it opened, a wave of cold wind entered, making them squint before catching a glimpse of the place beyond.

Gi-hun turned to look back at In-ho. His eyes said more than words could, feelings swelling through them. He offered his hand, waiting patiently.

In-ho reached out. Accepted. A little late, but he did. And Gi-hun’s hold made sure it stayed on his.

Is a heart attack contagious? Because he felt like he was having one too…

They stepped in. A red carpet for the walkway, with small, almost real-life-looking candles on each side guiding them through the dark night. On the far sides, the rooftop garden with all its structured landscape—boxwood spheres, some bonsai trees, and even tall trees—was all decorated with strings of glowing fairy lights, almost the stars’ reflection in the night. In the end, a circular wooden gazebo with white draperies on its columns, with a few strings of lights falling like stars raining down, circled a pair of chairs and a table at its center.

The two walked hand in hand, warmth spreading from their palms enough to fight the cold air.

They sat in their seats, both eyes still roaming through the place in astonishment. A few compliments were exchanged and some history shared about Gi-hun’s plan to make it a reality. A few laughs. Some lingering gazes. Presses of fingers from their still-intertwined hands on the table.

Gi-hun’s friends, with additional staff, came in, setting up another table and serving them food. Ji-yeong winked at him while Sae-byeok leaned down to whisper something to him, then they left the couple alone.

Gi-hun’s face, his whole expression glowing and almost glistening, with the warm light kissing his skin, made In-ho feel choked with words.

“Mind sharing?” In-ho finally managed to say, halfway through their dinner.

Gi-hun shook his head, laughing softly; the vibration went straight to In-ho’s heart. “It’s nothing,” he claimed, giggling as he played with his fork on his plate. “They just offered if I wanted live music because the violinist is on stand, waiting for the cue. Also, if we want fireworks.”

In-ho laughed as well. “Fireworks are a bit too much,” he said. “But music playing isn’t that bad… don’t you think?”

Gi-hun looked at him, almost pausing, his expression still soft but something serious stirring within. “I… I wanted to talk with you alone.” Gi-hun smiled, asking for understanding. “It’s best no one hears it but you… and I’m gonna pour everything out, so—” He stopped, swallowed. His eyes glimmered, almost an edge before a spill withheld.

“Ah… aside… I got a singer specially for tonight…” Gi-hun blinked, saving himself with a smile.

“Singer? Who? Someone famous?” In-ho asked, not trying to push Gi-hun from his previous sensitive moment.

Gi-hun smiled and nodded his head.

“Really?” In-ho’s interest piqued. “Someone I know?”

Another nod, with a grin this time.

“Will they come in soon? Or should we finish eating first?” In-ho questioned.

Gi-hun shook his head. “They’re already here.”

In-ho softly chuckled, getting the hint. “Will you sing for me?”

Another shake of the head.

In-ho was confused for a second.

“Me?” he asked, baffled.

Gi-hun nodded.

“If only you’d hum for me once again,” Gi-hun explained. “Would you mind giving me a dance to end this night?”

Gi-hun clung to In-ho, and as they held each other in the dark with just the glimmering glow from the fairy lights surrounding them. It was a slow dance, or almost just them fitting together perfectly, swaying gently, feet barely moving from where they stood. Gi-hun leaned down, his face settling into the crook of In-ho’s shoulder. His hands wrapped around In-ho completely, clawing at his back like a desperate hug. In-ho’s hands lowered, circling Gi-hun’s waist, leaving no gap between them.

In-ho had been humming, as Gi-hun requested. The same old song—Fly Me to the Moon. Just the two of them, like nothing had changed.

Gi-hun listened silently. His cheeks nudged In-ho from time to time, his body shifting slightly but never letting go.

It was perfect. Almost dreamlike, like a reality In-ho had only dared to imagine.

He stopped humming as he felt strain in his throat, emotions threatening to spill before his voice could. Still, it was blocked—remaining in his throat, unreleased. His hands tightened on Gi-hun. He was scared he would crack. He was scared to lose him… when Gi-hun was in his arms like this… he couldn’t let go. He should let go. He couldn’t break. He couldn’t allow himself to be selfish again. He couldn’t…

His hands shook from his grip. But he could feel Gi-hun trembling on him just as badly.

This was the main point of everything—the reason for their date, for the way Gi-hun was clinging right now. He’d always said he had something to talk about. Now it was time.

“In-ho…” he whispered, pressing himself into In-ho’s neck further. “About what I wanted to say… and talk with you…” His voice was so low.

In-ho just hummed in acknowledgment, holding him firmly as he felt how Gi-hun was spilling his heart.

“I…” Gi-hun started, tightening his grip. “I’m sorry.” In-ho could immediately feel the warm stream pressing and falling on his ears.

“Gi-hun?” he called alarmed, but Gi-hun remained intact, crying more.

“I’m sorry… In-ho…”

“Hey… hey, what’s this? Let me see you… please,” he said, hands caressing and calming Gi-hun. “Why are you apologizing suddenly? Out of nowhere…?” In-ho asked, worried.

But Gi-hun just cried once more, his voice hitched and suffocated as he sobbed, pressing his face into In-ho’s.

“I’m sorry…” he cried again.

“No. No, Gi-hun, please don’t be like this… there’s no need to apologize… especially to me…” In-ho claimed, slipping his hand to hold Gi-hun’s head. But his words made Gi-hun cry relentlessly, his chest quaking, each heave of breath sending tremors through him.

“Sorry for what I did to you… back then… In-ho…” Gi-hun sobbed, broken words spilling with every falling tear.

“What—what do you mean?” In-ho asked, confused and troubled. “All you did was stay and be good to me… it’s me who did you wrong… Gi-hun, please… your tears don’t deserve this…”

“No. No. You don’t understand how I’ve hurt you…” Gi-hun cried louder, pained. “I abandoned you.”

“Gi-hun…” In-ho breathed, his own hands trembling as he held him. “That’s inevitable. I would have only hurt you more if you stayed,” he explained, hoping to ease him.

“No!” Gi-hun cried more. “It’s not that… it’s not the physical leaving you…”

In-ho didn’t understand, but this was wrong. He couldn’t let Gi-hun take the blame when it was he who had suffered the damage.

“Gi-hun… you’re just emotional. I want you to know you did nothing wrong… nothing…” he tried to say.

“Why…” Gi-hun muttered again. “Why did you do it? Why did we end up that way?” He cried, pointing, trying to make sense.

As painful as it was to remember everything, In-ho still blamed himself. His abandonment issues, his instability—they didn’t erase the fact that everything had been on his shoulders. Everything they both suffered had been his decisions.

“It’s… my fault… Gi-hun…” In-ho admitted, factually. “I’m sorry…”

“No!” Gi-hun cried again. “It’s not yours alone—it’s mine too…” he said.

“No, you’ve done nothing—” In-ho tried to stop him, but Gi-hun let go and forced him to meet his eyes.

“Yes—I’ve done nothing!” Gi-hun cried, tears streaming down his face.

“Gi-hun…”

“Why!?… What led you to the edge and made you choose your decisions?”

In-ho did not answer.

“It’s because you had no other choice! You’ve never seen other choices!! You chose to drag me and put me under contracts because you never saw the choice that I would stay on my own!!” Gi-hun screamed, creating space between them.

“Gi-hun, please… it’s not like that—“

“It is!!” he cried. “You felt desperate… alone. You never even tried to seek me out, for my help, my opinion… because you can’t trust me enough!”

In-ho just stared, tears falling before he even realized.

“You can’t trust me enough that I’d stay…” Gi-hun sniffed, brushing away the profusely falling tears with the back of his hand. “Why!?”

In-ho could only listen. Standing there, trying to withstand every word Gi-hun shared, was already destroying him.

“Because I’ve never shown I will. That’s why!!” Gi-hun exclaimed. “I’ve never shown you how I feel. You can’t get a hold of me… there’s no ‘us’ for you to stay… or trust.”

“I’ve never said I love you… when I should…” Gi-hun now held In-ho’s hand tightly amidst his shaking.

“Gi-hun… stop…” In-ho cried, trying to hold him, but Gi-hun shook him away, keeping just one hand in his grasp.

“I should have said I love you. Many times. Enough for you to trust me. Enough that you wouldn’t have to choose your last option—of ruining us…”

“You could have chosen to trust me, but it was never a choice for you.”

“I should have been the one to hold you when you broke… not fall with you and blame you…”

“We could have been happy if I was enough…”

“If I had been stronger…”

“If I had chosen to be honest from the start… and seen past my own hurt to notice you were hurting more…”

Gi-hun had fallen to his knees, tears soaking the grass. His voice croaked with pain.

“I abandoned you… In-ho…”

“I could have saved you… saved us… but I was too weak and even went the other way to blame your mistakes…”

In-ho cupped his face. Gi-hun raised his tear-soaked face toward him.

“I failed you… failed to love you. I’m sorry.”

In-ho stayed silent. His mind screamed NO. NO. NO. NO. But he knew Gi-hun didn’t need reasoning. He needed to be heard. He would stay for that. He wiped his tears with his thumb.

“And even after a year… even after everything—the miscommunication, the pain we caused each other, the time and space we were apart…” Gi-hun said, blinking as tears blurred his vision. He looked up at In-ho. “And still… my feelings remain… my love for you survived everything… it was never gone. I love you, and it never changes.”

“And this time, I want to be someone who loves you and stands by it. Let you feel my love, to believe it… and trust me that I’ll stay.” Gi-hun clung to his arm, hands tightly gripping In-ho’s.

“Gi-hun… but… I—” In-ho murmured, shaken.

“I will be enough… In-ho, I will be enough for both of us this time. Just tell me you love me, and I’ll carry everything…” His voice pleaded. “Until you can love me back as you want.”

“I… might hurt you—”

“You can. You might. You will. But—” Gi-hun gasped, then clung rashly to both of In-ho’s shoulders. He leaned in desperately for his attention, as if In-ho might disappear and he wouldn’t hear him.

“But I will fight back this time. I will kick and punch you to get your sense back. I will hug you even if you push me away. I will say I love you and I care for you even if you say you hate me… because I do!” he screamed.

“Just say it, In-ho. Tell me you love me too… or—” His voice cracked, a bitter smile trembling on his lips. “Or tell me you don’t, and make me believe it. Because if you don’t… if you can’t… then I’ll never let go. I’ll cling to you until you hate me and don’t love me for real. But if not… I will stay.” Gi-hun promised.