Chapter 23
by GideonTaemo’s days were incredibly packed. Juhyeon had always known him as a slacker who spent his time in their old neighborhood drifting between cafes and convenience stores, his entire routine consisting of nothing more than leisurely meals at restaurants.
But Taemo didn’t seem to need much sleep. Instead, he stretched his days longer than anyone else’s, never wasting a single hour. At set times, he would shut himself away in his study to stare at his computer. He’d leave three or four times a day, claiming he was going to training, always returning with snacks. After their meals, he’d take Juhyeon to a karaoke room or they’d observe visitors from a distance. And when night fell, he would spend the quiet hours with his eyes closed.
Even as she grew accustomed to Taemo’s daily routine, Juhyeon couldn’t fully lower her guard. Before going to bed, she always locked her door and wedged a table beneath the handle. When Taemo was in the room, she would secretly check if the kitchen utensils were all in their proper places.
She did the same when taking a short nap or just resting in her room. It wasn’t a conscious choice, but a habit that had become ingrained in her.
Perhaps that was why, even while lying in bed feeling unwell, she had still barricaded the door.
Click.
The sound of the doorknob rattling snapped Juhyeon awake. She bolted upright, a sharp pain throbbing in her head, her gaze fixed warily on the closed door. The handle didn’t move again.
“…”
Was I imagining things?
He had gone out to work out earlier, so he shouldn’t be back yet. Besides, if Taemo were outside, he would have knocked or at least said something after seeing the locked door.
Juhyeon blinked slowly, his gaze fixed on the motionless doorknob.
How much time passed?
Thud.
The doorknob rattled slightly before the door was shoved open with immense force. The table he’d placed up against it to keep the handle from turning had been useless. With a harsh scrape, the table was pushed aside, and Taemo’s face appeared in the gap.
“What the hell is this?”
“Ah, well… I, uh, was cleaning earlier and just left it there because I was too lazy to move it, so…”
Juhyeon felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him—both for being caught so blatantly on guard and for still being terrified of the man, even after they’d already shared a bed. Taemo, however, remained completely unfazed, continuing to speak as if nothing were wrong.
“Come out.”
“…”
The savory aroma wafted through the open doorway. Juhyeon blinked blankly, then rose as if entranced. He fully pushed aside the table that had been clumsily blocking the door and stepped into the living room. He didn’t forget to sniff the air.
Taemo had already taken his seat at the dining table. A generous portion of egg fried rice sat in a large bowl, steam still rising from it.
“Whoa, did you make all this? I thought you went to the gym.”
During the time they’d lived together, most of their meals had been takeout or delivery. Even then, they’d been too lazy to clean up, eating straight from the disposable containers. But this fried rice clearly had some effort put into it.
Despite the care he’d taken, Taemo didn’t brag about it. He simply gestured with his chin toward the empty seat.
“I figured I shouldn’t just shove food into the mouth of someone who’s sick.”
“Oh.”
“You said you’re hurting because you’ve been fucking your ass off working out for over a month, right?”
That was just Juhyeon’s guess. His body had been feeling heavy lately from pushing himself too hard to keep up with the training. He’d just thrown the excuse out there without thinking when Taemo had been pressuring him to work out at the crack of dawn. Now, he felt embarrassed, as if he’d blamed Taemo for no reason.
“That was just my guess…”
“It’s getting cold. Hurry up and eat.”
Juhyeon hesitated before finally taking a seat. He picked up his spoon, but couldn’t bring himself to start eating. A strange feeling washed over him. His gaze drifted from the steaming bowl of rice to the pills—clearly set aside specifically for him. Since he hadn’t explained exactly where he was hurting, there was a variety of different medications.
Taemo stood with his arms crossed, waiting for Juhyeon to pick up his spoon.
“…”
Just moments ago, Juhyeon’s only complaints were his aching body and heavy head. Now, his stomach churned with nausea, and his eyes stung with heat. This kind of warm care was something he had always craved. Perhaps that was why it felt so strange, so embarrassing—an emotion he’d never experienced from peers who were too busy looking out for themselves.
I treat him like a murderer, cowering in fear. I lock my door and even prop a table against it every chance I get. If I were him, I’d be too resentful to ever take care of me.
And yet, he’d gone through the trouble of preparing a meal…
“What? You think I poisoned it?”
“…”
“Just eat, damn it.”
Despite his rough words, the gesture still touched Juhyeon deeply. Just as he parted his lips to thank Taemo, the other man grabbed a spoon, scooped up a huge mouthful of Juhyeon’s fried rice, and shoved it into his own mouth.
“There. Now we die together.”
After dropping that ominous line, Taemo went back to digging into his own portion. Juhyeon watched him for a moment before finally starting to eat. The rice didn’t seem to have many ingredients, yet it tasted surprisingly good—mild, comforting, and fluffy from the extra eggs.
His eyes widening, Juhyeon began eating in earnest. “But don’t people usually make porridge for sick people? Not that I’m a huge fan of porridge, though.”
“Porridge doesn’t even fill you up.”
Juhyeon had expected him to tell him to go buy some himself if he was going to keep whining about porridge, but the reply was surprisingly mild.
“That’s true. But you’re a good cook. I’m surprised.”
“I’ve lived alone for a long time.”
Since leaving the orphanage, Juhyeon had survived on cup noodles. People might ask why he’d keep eating out when he had no money, but cooking required a certain level of stability. You needed ingredients and tools to make a meal. When you were struggling just to fill your stomach, you couldn’t afford to spend money on such things.
“I’ve lived alone for a long time too… Ah, the brother I lived with was just like me. He had no interest in cooking and found it too much trouble, so ramen was just easier.”
Taemo, who had been eating without paying any attention to Juhyeon’s words, slowly raised his gaze. His fierce glare seemed to be telling Juhyeon to shut up, so Juhyeon clamped his mouth shut. But the words he spoke were not what Juhyeon expected.
“That’s why you’re so scrawny.”
“I’m not that scrawny.”
“Take the medicine after you finish eating. We don’t know exactly where you’re hurting.”
He nodded and went back to eating heartily. Even though he hadn’t taken the medicine yet, Juhyeon felt his body and mind grow lighter. The only sound was the clink of the spoon against the bowl. When the fried rice was half gone, Taemo spoke again.
“You asked Kang-i for a favor? You went looking for an errand center, but where did you find a place that takes requests for free?”
“It wasn’t for free! I promised to restock the snack shop later…”
Juhyeon found herself walking on eggshells. She felt as if she were being scolded for making him do a thankless job when he was already busy. If he asked her to pay up, she was screwed. Her bank account was growing, but her mind still lacked the luxury of peace.
“You shouldn’t have looked for him.”
The low mutter brought Juhyeon’s utensils to a dead halt. There were layers of meaning behind those words. Stop bothering Kang-i. You’re getting in the way of his work. He’s already run away. He abandoned you. People often said things like that to Juhyeon, seeing how she stubbornly scrimped and saved every penny. But Juhyeon had never once agreed with them.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know if restocking the snack bar will be enough to earn your trust, but… I really need to meet him. I have a lot to do—repay him, ease my guilt, all that.”
“…”
“It’s a pathetic story, I know…”
Juhyeon recounted the tale of Dongwoo, who had returned on a snow-swept day with the money he had stolen. It was a story he often told his friends, rambling like a drunkard whenever he’d had too much to drink. Throughout the long, drawn-out narrative, Taemo didn’t utter a word.
“He’s worth repaying, right? He was even younger than I am now back then, but he did all sorts of jobs just to keep me fed.”
It wasn’t as if I was seeking his approval. I just thought it might explain why I’d been so foolishly hoarding money. I stole a glance up at Taemo, searching his face.
“…”
He’d been silent throughout my story, his expression unreadable. He looked uncomfortable, perhaps even a little sad. Still, it was a far cry from the usual snorts of derision I got from my friends.
“Dongwoo-hyung was right around your age, so he just… reminded me of you. That’s why I helped him out at first. You know, in front of the club back then.”
It was true that Taemo had made me think of Dongwoo. There were plenty of men his age in the neighborhood, but for some reason, I’d found myself drawn to him.
“…That didn’t help at all. Stop bullshitting me.”
It was a ruthless retort, but it didn’t feel bad. Juhyeon grinned and went back to shoveling down his food. When he was sick, he usually just filled his stomach with ramen and triangle kimbap, but now that he was eating a hearty meal of rice, he felt like he was forgetting he was even ill.
And damn, he’d served so much that the pile of food never seemed to shrink, no matter how much I ate.
Just as Juhyeon was thinking that he might not even need to take his medicine after finishing this meal, the other man spoke.
“That hyung guy you mentioned.”
With a mouthful of rice, Juhyeon could only nod instead of answering. The man who had been wearing a sour expression while talking about Dongwoo just a moment ago was now the one bringing him up again.
“What is it you want to do for him so badly when you meet?”
Juhyeon’s jaw slowed as he chewed his food. He didn’t hesitate for a second—he’d already played this scenario out in his head a thousand times. He swallowed the mouthful of food in a hurried gulp.
“First, shopping. He loves motorcycles, so I want to buy him a killer one.”
“…”
As Juhyeon spoke with growing excitement, Taemo leaned back against his chair. He crossed his arms and gave a slight tilt of his chin, silently urging him to continue.
“He has zero fashion sense, but I think that’s just because he doesn’t have many clothes. I want to buy him enough clothes and shoes to fill an entire room. And I want to take him to a place like that restaurant we went to last time and treat him to an amazing meal.”
He talked on, his eyes sparkling, completely forgetting the pain he’d been groaning in just moments ago. The fuller his bank account grew, the more vivid his fantasies became.
“Oh, and I want to go to the Han River and drink beer. I was too young to drink back then, but you… you started in middle school, didn’t you?”
Juhyeon leaned forward, completely absorbed in her story. The distance between them closed again, erasing the space Taemo had just created by leaning back.
“And this is just a dream, but I also want to build a house for them. We grew up in the same orphanage, you know? The rooms there were fucking tiny, but the playground was huge. Like, really huge.”
Just speaking about it brought back memories of the orphanage where she’d spent her childhood. The rooms were crammed together like prison cells, devoid of anything new. They’d stuff seven or eight kids into each one, packing them in tight. No matter how small the children were, the space was still suffocatingly cramped.
At least the playground had been spacious. It was big enough for all the kids at the orphanage to run around, and during events, it could easily accommodate dozens of large vehicles. When they moved from such a place to a hillside village where even the alleys were cramped, Dongwoo had been quite frustrated. Juhyeon could still clearly remember his older brother’s grumbling face, even though it had happened so long ago.
“That’s why I want to build him a house with a big yard. I want to see him get married, have a child, and live a good life there. I’d need hundreds of millions of won for that, wouldn’t I?”
Naturally, Juhyeon’s mind drifted to his bank balance. It was nowhere near enough to achieve such a dream. He sucked air through his teeth in disappointment, then picked up his spoon again. Just as he was scooping up a mouthful of rice, he felt a persistent gaze from across the table. Juhyeon lifted his eyes and met Taemo’s stare.
“…What? Is it over a hundred million? Or maybe a billion?”
“…”
Taemo remained leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. He didn’t answer Juhyeon’s question, simply staring at him with an unreadable expression.
Does he think I’m some delusional brat with nothing to my name but big dreams? But he’s the one who asked. I only told him because he asked, and a dream is just a dream. I felt awkward under his blatant gaze.
“…What’s wrong?”
Taemo’s gaze slowly dropped, settling on Juhyeon’s parting lips. The two-syllable question had already ended, but his eyes refused to move. Just as the heat that had barely subsided began to rise again, flushing Juhyeon’s face, the suffocating gaze finally broke away.
“Just because. I figured you’ll be keeping me around for a long time.”
“…”
“Since you’ve got such fucking big dreams, you’re gonna have to work as my lackey for the rest of your life.”
He was taking a roundabout way of telling Juhyeon he was out of his league. Juhyeon’s face, already flushed, burned even hotter. He touched his earlobe, certain it would be beet-red. Sure enough, it was scorching.
“…You’re the one who asked first,” he muttered, just loud enough to be heard.
Whether Taemo had heard him or not, a smirk tugged at his lips. But before Juhyeon could even lift his head to see the smile, Taemo was already pushing back his chair. Why is he getting up in the middle of a meal? The question was answered almost immediately.
A glass of lukewarm water was placed in front of Juhyeon. Taemo didn’t even ask for credit after getting the water for her. He simply continued eating in silence. Being cared for was always unfamiliar and awkward, yet it was a strange thing she hoped would continue.
“…”
Her fever was still running, but she found herself hoping she would be completely cured by the time she finished her meal.
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
After a full day of illness, her body felt much lighter. She had expected to be sick for at least two days. She wondered if she had recovered so quickly because Taemo had taken such good care of her, preparing every meal and her medicine.
Just as she was lounging in bed, relieved that she didn’t have to go to work at the karaoke room, Taemo suggested they go out. Juhyeon got ready and followed him without a second thought.
“Ugh, it’s damn hot.”
The breeze pouring through the wide-open window was lukewarm. The stinging sun threatened to break her into a sweat. Juhyeon hated this transitional season most of all. It was neither properly hot nor cool—just an awkward in-between—and it was the season Dongwoo had disappeared. The memory of the muggy rain and suffocating heat she’d endured alone in the hillside village while waiting for him was still vivid.
“It’s summer, after all.”
“…Ah, yes. Right.”
She could have just agreed it was moderately hot, but Lee Taemo always replied in a way that left her speechless. Hiding her disgruntled expression, Juhyeon leaned her head out the car window. A cool breeze crept past her fingertips. She reached toward the air vent to confirm it was on, but Taemo’s voice cut her off first.
“Keep staring if you want your head chopped off.”
“Yikes, yes, sir.”
He could have just told me he was turning on the AC. Does he always have to be so threatening?
As soon as I straightened my posture, the window rolled up. The humid, lukewarm breeze gradually cooled into a crisp chill.
“So, where are we going?”
Maybe it was because I finally felt a bit better. After we’d been driving for a while, I finally found myself curious about our destination. It felt like an eternity ago that I used to question and tense up at his every move.
“You took your time asking.”
“I just assumed we were going to karaoke. Is there anywhere else you and I would go together?”
Taemo’s lips quirked upward, as if he agreed.
“Seo Jinyoung. I’m going to meet that nutjob from before.”
Seo Jinyoung? Nutjob? Juhyeon tilted his head, trying to recall who that was. Was he talking about the guy from the restaurant? The one who had shown an unsettlingly intense interest in Taemo and kept taking jabs at Juhyeon?
“So you’re actually taking the job?”
“Yeah. I didn’t see any reason to refuse.”
Fair enough. When he’d heard the client’s details from the man back then, Juhyeon had figured the guy was a real piece of work. They must have gone through the process of verifying his claims, and since Taemo had accepted the request, it meant the man hadn’t been lying.
“Do you usually meet clients in person? I thought Kang-i handled all the communication.”
“He only talks to me when I’m involved.”
I could see where this was going. It had happened last time, too. Throughout the entire conversation, Kang hadn’t taken his eyes off Taemo, constantly demanding his contact information. He’d practically been broadcasting his interest with his entire body. Even when Juhyeon and I had pretended to be in some sort of… situation together, he hadn’t backed off. It seemed like more than just a friendly vibe between two guys.
“Is he pretending to be my boyfriend because he likes you, hyung?”
At my words, Taemo, who was gripping the steering wheel, burst out laughing. He didn’t seem offended at all.
“You’re not completely oblivious, are you?”
“Huh? I’ve spent my whole life reading the room.”
Even a passing dog could have figured that out, I wanted to say. And I’m actually pretty good at reading people—that’s why I was a successful pickpocket. But since that wasn’t exactly a point of pride, I kept my mouth shut.
“The bastard’s been in heat for me for a while now.”
“Has he always been like that?”
So it went beyond mere interest—he was making sexual advances. And Lee Taemo was fully aware of it. Yet he still accepted the requests and met him in person. Did he not mind another man liking him? Or perhaps… Taemo was interested in him too? Juhyeon had never given much thought to homosexuality, but he never expected it to be so close to home.
“Ever since we first met, I suppose.”
Taemo’s nonchalant reply surprised Juhyeon. Meeting him in person despite knowing his excessive interest was definitely special treatment. But the other man would only see it as an opening, clinging to a sliver of hope and continuing to hit on him.
“Are you interested in him too, hyung?”
“Interested…”
Taemo trailed off, slowly pressing the brake. He came to a stop behind the line of cars and crossed his hands over the steering wheel. His long fingers tapped a rhythmic beat against the leather.
“To some extent, yes.”
His answer came without a hint of hesitation. Juhyeon was speechless. Was he shocked that Taemo might be gay? Or was it his casual admission of interest in another man? Or perhaps it was because Taemo looked like the type who would never take an interest in anyone at all. He couldn’t be sure.
I thought we were just a hitman and his client.
Now, the only thing certain was that someone was interested, and that Taemo was reciprocating that curiosity. Then why had he pretended to be involved with Juhyeon? Why had he done the same with Kang-i before him? He wasn’t particularly curious, yet the question escaped his lips before he could stop it.
“So, was that whole act just to make him jealous?”
“Everyone knows he’s not in a serious relationship with her anyway.”
“They know? Then why even pretend to date?”
“Because this is the only way to keep him from moving on.”
Why on earth does Seo Jinyoung need to hold onto this lingering attachment? Why do they have to keep him tethered like this? It’s not like he’s even genuinely interested in her.
“Your relationship is… really strange.”
“Yeah. It’s been strange from the start.”
“…”
“And now that you’re involved, we’re all strange.”
Lee Taemo’s way of speaking was always so vague. The more Juhyeon asked, the more certain he became that the two of them were just… complicated.
It’s best to stop talking now.
Juhyeon turned his gaze to the window, chewing over the memory of meeting Seo Jinyoung at the restaurant.
After a long ride, they arrived at a massive hotel. It was so grand and luxurious that Juhyeon couldn’t even begin to guess how much a single night would cost. The elevator was spacious, playing soft music that filled the air with a pleasant fragrance. It was so opulent that, exaggeration aside, he felt he could live here. Even as the elevator ascended smoothly to a high floor, so effortless that he barely felt the movement, Juhyeon was too busy wide-eyed, taking in every detail of the interior.
“If you start bullshit about backing out in front of him again, you’re dead.”
The threat, so utterly out of place in such an elegant setting, followed. I only said those things for their own good, Juhyeon thought. All I’m trying to do is help them make more money.
At Taemo’s urging, Juhyeon replied grudgingly.
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