Chapter 27: Dream
by GideonWas it CEO Moon Woo-jin or his manager, Joo-won?
Either way, Jubin should have checked his messages sooner, but unpacking was his priority.
The two-bedroom apartment was obviously more spacious than a studio, and having a separate walk-in closet was the best part.
“This should be enough.”
He’d scoured the web for the cheapest options and bought only a reasonably sized refrigerator, a microwave, and an air fryer.
The other rooms were mostly filled with a few pieces of furniture, but the living room was still completely empty. With no sofa, TV, or table, the only thing in the room was a single light fixture. Jubin sprawled out on the floor and finally checked the messages he’d been ignoring.
Recommend a movie.
It was a paid message from Zion.
In an interview, Zion had mentioned that he watched movies alone at home whenever he was stressed.
Horror? Thriller-action?
He said that watching mindless movies like those helped clear his head.
“…He must be stressed.”
Is it because of the contract renewal, or something else? Jubin’s thoughts spiraled.
“He’s making me worry for no reason…”
Despite Jubin’s concern, Zion was busy flirting with his fans.
The stream was a feast of his signature writing style and the kind of cute aegyo that made Jubin’s lips curl up even as he watched.
When fans messaged him saying they couldn’t wait to see his next project, he replied with a heartfelt message:
I want to see you guys too. A lot.
No wonder the fans are so smitten, Jubin thought.
“Don’t hold back if you want to see me. Why would you?”
Don’t hold back? He’s practically on his way here.
“Couples in love shouldn’t hold back when they miss each other.”
Right after the message, a selfie arrived. He was lying in bed, half his face covered by the duvet, gazing into the camera.
The partial cover-up only served to accentuate his eyes.
Even for a guy, his skin looks so pale and clear… He looks especially innocent today.
There was a famous meme among fans: “There’s a path into Do Zion’s fandom, but the exit is blocked.” It was a compilation of his various bed selfies.
Though the photos showed only his face—leaving the rest of the room a mystery—each one captured a completely different expression. Fans said saving them all was a delight in itself.
One fan even declared that Zion was the ultimate predator, capable of seducing anyone—man or woman—if he truly set his mind to it from his bed.
It seemed he secretly enjoyed such nicknames from his fans, as he’d drop a bed selfie just when they were starting to forget.
I love you.
For a moment, those three words were all Jubin could see.
Perhaps it was the combined impact of the heart-stopping bed selfie and the three-word confession, but the paid messaging app exploded.
It crashed almost instantly.
Jubin caught his breath, gently stroking his chest with his hand to calm his racing heart.
“What is this feeling…?”
He’d been receiving paid messages from Zion for a long time, but he’d never once fallen for such a ridiculous delusion. Yet, in a momentary surge of emotion, he’d taken the words far too deeply to heart.
How many hardcore fans like that are there?
I needed to reflect on my brief moment of confusion.
“Ugh, I’m exhausted.”
My entire body ached from spending all day moving. Outside, the sky had turned a hazy gray, threatening rain.
My mood sank as my pheromones stirred again, ready to run wild. Just then, my phone buzzed on the table.
Do Zion-sunbae, are you free tomorrow evening? If so, want to meet at the bar?
It was a message from Zion.
“Hmm…”
I’d already postponed our plans once. I couldn’t push it off again. My conscience told me I had to go this time, right?
Fine, let’s do it.
After some deliberation, I agreed to the drinks. Right on cue, the rain began to fall.
Zion appeared in my dream last night.
He kept calling me Sunbae, Sunbae in a voice that could melt stone, before pulling me into a deep, passionate kiss. In the dream, instead of panicking or pushing him away, Jubin wanted him, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms tighter around Zion’s neck. He even went as far as to shamelessly grind his lower body against Zion’s crotch.
“Mmm…”
Even though I knew it was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up. I lingered in the pleasure, savoring the foreplay and the kiss for a long time. It felt like his sweet pheromones were flowing into me, leaving me utterly entranced.
Just a little more, just a little…
But the moment I woke up this morning, I stared in despair at my soaking wet sheets.
“Fuck.”
I bolted straight to the bathroom.
Standing under the gushing shower, I could only laugh in disbelief at myself.
“…What is this, puberty?”
What the hell am I doing, a grown adult? I tried to brush it off, telling myself my libido must have spiked due to recent stress, fatigue, and my pheromone levels. But I’d enjoyed the dream way too much, even knowing full well it was Do Zion.
How am I supposed to face him?
The urge to crawl into a hole and hide grew stronger by the second.
Still, today’s incident was a secret Zion would never know. I was confident I could play it cool.
It took a long time to settle my racing heart, which had been pounding since the first morning after the move.
After stepping out of the taxi, Cha Jubin looked up at the super-tall hotel, its spire seemingly about to scratch the sky.
“So, this is the place…”
It was the tallest skyscraper in the area. He’d taken a taxi because the hotel was a bit far from the nearest bus or subway stop, and it had been the right call.
He’d read reviews that described the atmosphere as casually elegant, so he’d chosen a classic pair of dark-wash jeans that complemented his crisp white shirt. He’d paired them with a black belt and a shoulder bag, adding a touch of flair with a thin chain bracelet around his wrist.
Though he wasn’t one to spend much time on his hair, he’d given it a light styling for the occasion. The result was a more mature and striking look than usual.
Meet me on the rooftop.
He walked along the street, guided by the soft glow of the streetlights. At the entrance, a doorman in a neat uniform held the hotel door open, greeting him with a perfectly measured smile.
“Welcome, sir.”
Jubin returned the greeting with a polite smile.
As they stepped into the lobby, they were greeted by the hotel’s signature warm fragrance—a scent that instantly lifted the mood. Under the brilliant lobby lights, a pianist was playing a classical piece. A crowd had gathered, completely absorbed in the music.
With the classical melody serving as their background music, they waited a moment for the elevator to descend. Just then, Jubin’s phone rang. He’d expected it to be Do Zion, but it was Seo In-ha.
“Hey, In-ha.”
—Are you out?
“Yeah, I’m out for an appointment.”
—Ah, I see.
The sigh that followed sounded utterly deflated, yet strangely hopeful—as if he’d called in a hurry, hoping to meet up.
“Did you finish your deadline?”
—No. I called because I didn’t want to do it.
Seo In-ha was a fairly famous webtoon artist who lived in a constant state of deadline-induced panic. He’d known from a young age that he had zero talent for storytelling.
Once he gained a reputation among readers as the “handsome webtoon artist,” his popularity skyrocketed within the fandom, and his schedule became packed.
—Belated congratulations. I heard about the casting.
Cha Jubin chuckled dismissively. “Things just fell into place.”
—Do you really think your only friend should have to read your news in an article? Wouldn’t it be nice if you told me yourself?
“Ha, you’re just as bad.”
You’re the one who tells me every single detail about your life when you’re picking a new project. You’re complaining to the wrong person.
—Cha Jubin, are you still against marriage?
The nuance and timing of the question sent a chill of intuition down Jubin’s spine.
Why is he asking this again? He already knows the answer.
Seo In-ha was, by all accounts, a stunning man. He was tall, meticulously maintained, and possessed a physique that even other men would envy. He was the type who never missed a beat in his work and, while he’d never say it out loud, quietly looked after his own people—a mischievous sort who showed his affection through actions rather than words.
The only problem was his streak of inexplicable hysteria that flared up every few years, a trait even his closest friends couldn’t wrap their heads around.
—Marry me. Next year.
The elevator’s arrival chime jolted him back to his senses.
“I’m hanging up.”
He ended the call without waiting for an explanation.
“He’s like this when he’s bored.”
One could chalk it up to the stress of deadlines and sleep deprivation driving a person mad, but Seo In-ha had always been like this.
Until now, Zion’s plans had mostly been solo ventures. If it were just a friend, I could have brushed it off as his usual “respectable madness.”
But at some point, Jubin had started inserting himself into those plans.
Marriage? With me? Who the hell decided that? Even as a joke, I would’ve killed him. If he was serious, it was grounds for ending our friendship.
After taking the elevator up, I stepped out onto the rooftop. A bar unfolded before me, its mood completely different from the one on the first floor. It was far more private and luxurious, offering a stunning view of the city skyline.
“Sunbae.”
I turned my head at the familiar voice.
A man in an all-black ensemble—a black shirt and black wide-leg denim pants—immediately drew my eye.
“You’re here early.”
His outfit was accented with a ring and a watch, and his hair was swept back in a classic pompadour that gave him a clean, sophisticated look. Do Zion was as flawless as ever.
“Are you sure you’re okay without a mask?”
“It’s a reservation-only spot for guests, so there aren’t many people here.”
His tone suggested it was perfectly fine.
“Oh, good. That’s a relief.”
“Let’s go inside.”
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