Chapter 26
by Gideon“…”
An unnervingly heavy silence stretched between them.
Bzzzz—
The phone Juhyeon was gripping vibrated loudly. He lowered his head, as if trying to escape Taemo’s relentless gaze.
“I… I got a reply.”
Juhyeon quickly checked the screen. As expected, it was from Kang-i.
Check complete!
A sticker with the words Good job~ followed. It was the first time the demanding Kang-i had ever praised him, yet Juhyeon felt no joy.
“Woo Juhyeon.”
“…”
It wasn’t a rough call like Hey, You, Rookie, or Capri. The low voice spoke Juhyeon’s full name. Juhyeon’s gaze slowly shifted from the screen to Taemo. Though the movement was sluggish, Taemo waited with stubborn patience. When their eyes finally met, the corner of Taemo’s mouth quirked up into a crooked smile.
“Let’s grab a beer. I’ll even pay you an hourly rate for it.”
With his words finally carrying a hint of life, he straightened his body from where it had been leaning against the seat. He started the engine, gripped the steering wheel, and as his movements unfolded, the heavy silence that had settled over them began to disperse.
“…How much?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one eating more, so wouldn’t a single bill be enough?”
He narrowed his eyes, a sharp breath drawn through his teeth. The car slowly pulled out of the parking lot. By the time they had fully merged onto the road, Taemo’s expression had returned to its usual, unreadable state.
“Well, since we’re on the same team, I’ll let you drink for free. You know how rare an opportunity like this is, right? Especially for a money-grubber like me.”
“So you’re aware you’re money-mad, huh?”
Haha. Taemo laughed, his shoulders shaking.
But is it just my imagination, or does that laugh not seem entirely happy? This is so weird. Juhyeon suppressed the growing unease in his chest and turned his gaze to his phone screen.
Good job.
…
Yes, I did the right thing. Easing Taemo’s guilt, missing what might have been an opportunity, agreeing to drink with him—it was all for the best.
“Does the sunroof open?”
“You really want to open it in this traffic?”
Despite his words, Taemo opened the convertible top. The air was still lukewarm, though better than the daytime heat now that the sun had set. Trapped among the gridlocked cars, the air felt stale and the surroundings noisy. Still, it wasn’t a bad feeling.
Midsummer was approaching. The season when the fierce, scorching heat would leave them all reeling.
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
They sat in the living room, each holding a can of beer. It was a scene not much different from their usual routine. A bag of potato chips lay open between them, and the sound from the movie playing on the TV was a faint murmur. Juhyeon sat on the floor while Taemo lounged on the sofa, both of them sipping their beers. Juhyeon had rarely seen Taemo drink, and he’d wondered if the man was a lightweight. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
He drank at a staggering pace, his movements as swift and precise as when he wielded a blade. Though he’d been the one to suggest they drink together, Taemo was the only one gulping down beer. It seemed he wanted to get drunk but couldn’t quite manage it.
Juhyeon, who had just cracked open a new can, stole a glance at him.
“By the way, how old are you, Hyungnim?”
Taemo tilted his head back, the can pressed to his lips, and shifted his gaze to Juhyeon. His eyes were piercing, almost a glare, but Juhyeon didn’t shrink back. The sound of Taemo swallowing echoed a few times. His Adam’s apple, more prominent than most, bobbed sharply up and down.
“Took you long enough to ask.”
Juhyeon’s eyes followed the movement as Taemo wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand. It was absurd to be asking this now, after living together for months, but he had only just realized he didn’t even know Taemo’s age.
“Why did you think you’d already told me? I assumed you knew.”
“…That guy you’re looking for.”
“Dongwoo hyung?”
“He’s one year older than me.”
“Ah.”
Juhyeon’s eyes darted as he did the math. Dongwoo hyung was six years older than him, making him twenty-seven. If Taemo was one year older than that, he was twenty-eight. He’s younger than I thought. He didn’t look old, but his aura always made him seem much more mature.
Afraid he’d get cursed out if he said that out loud, Juhyeon swallowed the words along with his beer. As the bitter liquid slid down his throat, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.
“…”
Wait, did I ever tell him how old Dongwoo hyung is?
Before the thought could even fully form, Taemo’s low voice cut through the silence.
“You asked me before why I started doing this.”
“…Yeah.”
Juhyeon carefully set his can on the table. His mouth went dry with sudden tension.
“My dad died in an accident when I was young. He was a taxi driver, and a drunk driver plowed right into him. He died on the spot, without a chance to even fight back.”
“…”
“My dad was the clear victim, but the police claimed he was the one who’d been drinking. He never even touched the stuff, and he had a passenger in the car at the time.”
Taemo gently swirled the remaining beer in his can as he continued.
“I kept wondering why everything was going so fucking sideways. But then I found out that drunk bastard who drove into us was the son of some powerful family.”
“Ah…”
“Since they couldn’t put him behind bars, my father was an easy target. He had nothing, he was already dead, and back then, there weren’t many CCTVs, so there was no evidence.”
Taemo let out a hollow laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He seemed to be struggling to recall the memory, as if it pained him, or perhaps he was suppressing his rage.
“Three people died at the scene that day. Which means everyone involved in the accident died. Except for him.”
Taemo lowered his head. His gaze fell upon three crushed empty cans rolling on the floor.
“And that bastard is still out there, living his fucking best life.”
“…”
“That’s why I want to be the one to send that bastard to hell.”
The seething emotion that had laced his low voice quickly cooled. Taemo, whose expressions were usually so inscrutable, now seemed utterly shaken.
“For the three people who died unjustly… no…”
Taemo trailed off, his voice lingering. His cold eyes slowly shifted, landing on Juhyeon.
“I’ll do it for their families, too.”
Juhyeon felt his breath hitch, trapped by those dark eyes. It was as if someone’s hands were tightening around his throat. His heart hammered against his ribs, pounding with a fury that wasn’t even his own. What was he supposed to say? No words felt like they would ever be enough.
“…So that’s why you only take requests to kill people like that?”
“Yeah. Because this was the only way I could ever get to that bastard.”
I remembered what he’d said on the truck ride home after my first day on the job—the day I’d ended up helping him dispose of a body.
‘The ones who have everything, the ones with high status who live shamelessly even after committing atrocities. I’m cleaning them out. Then one day…’
Only now did I realize what Taemo had left unsaid back then. He was moving toward a single, unwavering goal.
“Today is the anniversary of his death. And that bastard is probably sleeping soundly, without a care in the world.”
“…”
So that’s why he’d been acting so strange today. He’d been out wandering, unable to stop thinking about his father, who had died after being falsely accused.
Taemo drained the rest of his beer in one go and crushed the empty can. That made four crumpled cans on the table. To me, they looked like the three men who were already dead, and Taemo himself—living like the dead as he charged forward, eyes fixed only on his revenge.
Murder can never be justified. No matter the reason.
And yet, I could almost understand why Taemo had stepped into such a dangerous world, and why he chose such a cruel method—driving his victims to the brink of absolute terror before finally killing them. I understood that a younger Taemo must have desperately needed the absolute power to clear his father’s name.
“Still, the end is finally in sight.”
He had no right to criticize Lee Taemo for blindly chasing revenge. After all, he himself had come this far driven by nothing but money.
Juhyeon, leaning sideways against the sofa, rested his elbow on the table. He clasped his hands together and squeezed his eyes shut.
Having never had a family to begin with, he’d never observed death anniversaries or known how to act on such days. He didn’t know how to comfort anyone, either. This was simply the most solemn and sincere gesture he knew.
With his eyes closed, he prayed for the souls of people whose faces he’d never seen. It wasn’t a grand prayer—just an awkward plea for them to find peace in the afterlife.
“What are you doing?”
A large hand stroked the back of his head. Juhyeon’s head bowed with the rough gesture, but he only opened his eyes after finishing his allotted prayer.
“I don’t have a religion,” he said softly. “But they say he helps when you’re desperate.”
“…”
“He’s probably gone to a good place.”
Juhyeon forced an awkward smile. He worried Taemo might get angry, calling it an overstep, but he didn’t regret offering a prayer for the deceased.
His neck grew stiff from staring up at Taemo. Then, Taemo slowly bent his waist, his large shadow stretching long over Juhyeon. The bright light that had been pouring down was now completely blocked.
“…”
Taemo leaned forward, his hand still cradling the back of Juhyeon’s head. Juhyeon wondered if it was just his imagination, but the spot where they touched felt unnervingly hot. Then, Taemo’s hand began to move downward. It wasn’t a caress, but a slow, deliberate descent—a heavy, sweeping motion. Finally, his large, searing palm wrapped around Juhyeon’s nape.
His skin was rough, a testament to the years he’d lived. His body heat, too, was scorching, as if fueled by a lifetime of suppressed emotion. Yet, strangely, his dark eyes seemed to be holding something back. With every heavy ripple of emotion in those eyes, the grip on Juhyeon’s neck tightened.
Juhyeon couldn’t speak, nor could he look away. He could only endure Taemo’s overwhelming presence as it crashed over him.
Sshh.
The fingers wrapped around Juhyeon’s nape slowly stroked his skin. The fingertips eventually reached his Adam’s apple, which bobbed up and down as he struggled to swallow his tension. He couldn’t even tighten his throat anymore. He could only look up with wide, dark eyes, like prey caught by a predator.
Taemo’s lips parted. Juhyeon focused on reading his words with an almost obsessive intensity. His eyes stung, but he refused to look away. A wild thought suddenly flashed through his mind: I wonder if his lips are as rough as his hands.
“…Don’t drink too much. I’m going to sleep.”
His voice, slightly husky, was much lower than before. As soon as he finished the sentence, he stood up. Without a trace of lingering affection, he withdrew his shadow and his touch, then turned his back. Watching Taemo’s retreating figure disappear into the room in a few strides, Juhyeon finally swallowed hard.
“You’re not even going to sleep anyway.”
His mutter was barely audible over the low hum of the TV. Juhyeon rubbed the back of his neck, where Taemo’s warmth still seemed to linger. He turned away, forcing his gaze back to the movie. The scenes changed, and the protagonist’s expression shifted countless times, but Juhyeon remained frozen, his hand still gripping the nape of his neck.
It was just a guess before, but now it’s clear.
It’s obvious that person doesn’t care if I’m a man.
That’s why he’s so used to creating this kind of atmosphere. That’s why he seems so unbothered.
To Lee Taemo, this situation doesn’t mean anything at all.
Besides, he seemed interested in Seo Jinyoung, so there was no need for me to be the only one feeling this tension and overthinking things. It was the only logical conclusion when weighing the pros and cons.
“…”
My mind understood it all, but my heart pounded wildly. I didn’t even know why I was acting like this. I knew I was the only one losing out. Juhyeon’s fingertips, still gripping the back of my neck, were still red, and all my senses were focused on the door firmly shut behind me. This continued until the movie ended and the dawn deepened.
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
Awkward tension frequently crackled between them. For example, like right now, when they happened to lock eyes while eating and neither could find the right moment to look away, staring intently into each other’s eyes.
“…”
“…”
A heavy silence stretched between them for a moment before they broke eye contact as if on cue.
Juhyeon kept his head bowed low, stuffing handfuls of rice into his mouth as he tried to swallow the awkward tension. It’s over, he realized with every fiber of his being. There’s no going back to how things were. At least not for him.
Fuck, I’m so screwed. He cursed inwardly, his spoon moving in a frantic blur.
“What’s with this vibe?”
Kang-i’s voice, tinged with a dry laugh, cut through the air as Juhyeon practically shoved his face into his bowl, eating as if he were trying to drink the rice. Kang-i had clearly sensed the strange tension—or rather, the strange tension Juhyeon was unilaterally radiating.
Juhyeon squeezed his eyes shut and stuffed another mouthful of food into his mouth. With his cheeks bulging, he couldn’t speak, so Taemo answered for him.
“What?”
“What are you two doing? Exchanging glances like that.”
“Why? Feeling left out?”
Kang-i set his spoon down with a sharp clack and crossed his arms. He was sitting right next to Juhyeon, and the intense stare boring into him made his cheek practically sting.
“Hey, Rookie. I told you to get your head straight.”
“What? What do you mean? I’ve always been focused.”
Juhyeon swallowed the food in his mouth and raised his voice for no reason. Kang-i turned his entire body to face him, acting as if he was about to start a full-blown lecture. Even in this situation, Taemo just chuckled and kept shoveling down the hot gukbap.
“I know kids these days like the ‘good-looking but prickly’ type who secretly takes care of you. But not him. Absolutely not.”
“Kang-i. Is it right to talk about someone like that while they’re sitting right in front of you? And…”
Taemo let his voice trail off. He finished the water Juhyeon had just poured for him and even dabbed his lips with a tissue. The gesture was so deliberately elegant that for a moment, Juhyeon wondered if they were in a soup place or a fine-dining restaurant. As he stared blankly at Taemo’s actions, his gaze met Taemo’s dark eyes in mid-air.
“I know better than anyone what’s off-limits.”
Taemo held his gaze, enunciating each word with deliberate force as if making a point. It was a statement that dismissed all the awkward tension that had been building between them lately. Juhyeon didn’t particularly like him or regret anything, but the firm words still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Averting his eyes from the steady gaze, Juhyeon lowered his head and stabbed his spoon deep into the steaming bowl of soup.
“Take your time. I’m going out for a smoke.”
Taemo shoved his hands into his coat pockets and stood up. Juhyeon stole another glance at the broad back as it strode away, then lowered his head. He still had a lot of food left. He could usually polish off a whole bowl without a problem, but for some reason, his appetite had completely vanished.
This was the first time the three of them had eaten together, but the atmosphere had turned strange. Is it because I’m overthinking things with Lee Taemo? He looked like he wasn’t happy about being tied to Juhyeon like this. Maybe he already has someone he likes, and he hates being jokingly linked to me? Juhyeon recalled Taemo’s dark eyes staring intensely at him. He felt as if he were sitting on a bed of nails.
In the end, he couldn’t finish his meal. Even after Kang-i, who ate slowly, had finished his own portion, Taemo still hadn’t returned. Juhyeon, still mindful of the empty seat opposite him, cleared his throat. Then, he spoke in a low voice.
“But, hey… why not?”
“…”
Kang-i paused mid-sip of his soup, his head turning slowly to face Juhyeon. His large eyes stared intensely. Though he didn’t say a word, Juhyeon could swear he heard the words Are you crazy? echoing in his ears.
Juhyeon quickly waved his hands in a frantic gesture of denial. “No, it’s not like I have some ulterior motive! I was just wondering if there was some other reason. Like, maybe you have someone you’re interested in? Or a super dramatic past?”
“Whatever.”
The blunt reply brought a sudden wave of relief.
“…”
Why am I feeling this way about Lee Taemo?
It must be because I left the neighborhood I’d lived in for so long and was torn away from my friends. Now that I have no one else to lean on but Lee Taemo and Kang-i, I keep craving their affection and even harboring these petty feelings. That has to be it.
“Well, I thought I’d found something to tease you with. I guess not.”
Juhyeon forced a smile, fighting back the turmoil in his chest. He continued, feigning a playful grin. He could only hope Kang-i hadn’t noticed the slight tremor in his voice.
“No. Absolutely not. Not a chance.”
“…I get it, okay?”
“Seriously, no.”
No matter how much Juhyeon denied it, Kang-i kept hammering the point home. As he listened, a thought suddenly struck him: What if the reason it’s impossible isn’t because of Lee Taemo, but because of me?
Because I’m just a pathetic human being who doesn’t deserve him.
“…”
If that’s the reason, I can understand, Juhyeon thought. My background is trash, and my only claim to fame is my skill as a pickpocket.
He couldn’t keep pretending to be calm when Kang-i insisted that Lee Taemo was absolutely out of the question.
After finishing their meal, the three of them headed to a karaoke room. Though the space was cramped and enclosed, Juhyeon found it surprisingly comfortable, as if he’d already grown accustomed to it. He was even able to follow the conversation, picking up on the subtext with ease.
“Let’s try to dig around the neighborhood. Rumors like that spread fastest among the bottom-feeders,” Taemo said, idly flipping his lighter up and down.
Despite his casual gestures, the conversation was far from light.
“Yeah. Should I get a place ready?”
“A place? Hmm.”
Taemo let out a long breath, his gaze sweeping up as he turned his head. His dark eyes fixed directly on Juhyeon. Thud. He flipped the lighter he’d been fiddling with face-down on the table and covered it with his palm. Then, he asked bluntly, “Woo Juhyeon, are you going to be a pain about where we stay again, like last time?”
“I’m not usually picky about where I stay,” Juhyeon said, glancing sideways at Kang-i. “It’s just that the lighting in the karaoke room was so bad… I mean, it was unfamiliar, that’s why…”
He tried to word it as gently as possible, but Kang-i’s eyes narrowed. As Juhyeon pretended to be preoccupied, avoiding that sharp gaze, the large hand pressing down on the lighter moved. Soon, it rested lightly on Juhyeon’s head, almost as if cupping it.
“Is that so?”
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