One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 10.1

The swelling made his double eyelids thicker than usual. Staring blankly at the dazed face in the mirror, Wooyoon furrowed his brow and tried to scowl. No matter how fiercely he glared, his droopy eye corners and long lashes made it impossible to look tough.

After tilting his head side to side for a while, examining himself in the mirror, he finished washing up and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Good morning.”

Pilsung, squatting by the shoe rack and smoking a cigarette, glanced at Wooyoon and greeted him. Wooyoon silently peeked at Pilsung, who had unbuttoned his dress shirt completely, exposing his broad chest while puffing away.

Thinking Pilsung, who’d shown up at his tiny room at dawn, would’ve naturally left by now, Wooyoon had nearly fainted from shock that morning upon finding him sleeping beside him, sweating profusely in just his underwear. Muttering “Fuck, it’s so damn hot” even in his sleep, Pilsung hadn’t woken as Wooyoon sneaked out to wash up.

Relieved that Pilsung, who’d looked a mess when he opened his eyes, had at least thrown on some clothes, Wooyoon spoke.

“You’re… going to work now, right?”

Pilsung flicked a glance at Wooyoon’s hesitant, foolish voice, snickered, stubbed out his cigarette on the floor, flicked it into the nearby trash pile, and stood up.

“Nah. Gotta go on a date with an unemployed guy.”

At the word “date,” Wooyoon recalled all the times Pilsung had dragged him around one-sidedly. Back then, trailing a thug whose intentions he couldn’t predict had been unpleasant and scary, but now, hearing Pilsung say he’d skip work to hang out with him sparked a little excitement. Left alone at home, he’d surely have dwelled on yesterday’s ordeal at the mart and sunk into gloom.

“Go change into something for going out.”

“This… I just put it on when I woke up?”

Pilsung eyed Wooyoon’s short-sleeved T-shirt—featuring a cartoon character with thick caterpillar eyebrows laughing uncontrollably—and smacked his lips bitterly. Should he buy him new clothes before heading out? He’d been preoccupied with fattening up the scrawny, worn-out Nam Wooyoon lately. Starting today, he resolved to dress him in expensive stuff so he wouldn’t get disrespected like yesterday. A couple of gold chains around his neck or wrists would keep the shabby vibe at bay.

“Me, wear something… else?”

“……”

Scratching his head awkwardly, Pilsung watched Wooyoon rub his chest with his palm, then retracted his earlier resolve. If Nam Wooyoon cleaned up too well, he’d be too anxious to live long. Polishing up a scruffy, pretty little thing was better saved for the bedroom. The T-shirt he had on, after a closer look, wasn’t so bad—way better than that one with a farm photo of growing strawberries or tomatoes.

“Forget it. Wear that.”

Noticing Pilsung wave his hand dismissively in the air, Wooyoon narrowed his eyes. Who likes who here? He claims to like me, but he only calls when he feels like it, disappears when he’s busy, shows up again out of nowhere, and doesn’t even seem that glad to see me…

But I’m glad.

“Back and forth…”

Muttering discontentedly, Wooyoon felt Pilsung’s palm rest on his head, whispering “kid” as he brushed past. Pouting, Wooyoon scuffed the floor with his slippered foot, glancing at the bathroom Pilsung had entered. Soon, a shout—“Ugh! Cold! Fuck!”—echoed out. To an outsider, it might sound like a scuffle, but it was just Pilsung earnestly cursing at the faucet, going on about dying or whatever. Wooyoon’s sulky expression melted into a shy grin.

Today’s gonna be fun…

Maybe because it was the kids’ summer break, Han River Park was bustling with people even on a weekday afternoon. Wooyoon, clutching cotton candy he’d always wanted to try since childhood, boarded a duck-shaped pedal boat with Pilsung. Riding one had been on his bucket list, right up there with eating cotton candy, so he eagerly followed Pilsung’s suggestion.

The duck boat was scarier than it looked on TV. The strong current made it rock a lot, and the weight difference between him and Pilsung tilted it to one side, leaving them drifting across the Han River in a near-sinking state.

While Wooyoon was distracted by the oversized cotton candy, Pilsung pedaled hard in his place. When the boat reached a quieter spot away from the dock, he stopped stomping and turned to him. Wooyoon was holding the candy—dyed absurdly blue and red—licking his lips without eating it. Chuckling, Pilsung took off his sunglasses, rubbed the lenses on his knee, and asked.

“You begged for it with your eyes popping out—why’re you just staring at it instead of eating?”

“It’s too precious…”

“Tch. I’ll buy you another, so eat it without worrying.”

Frowning, Pilsung slid the cleaned sunglasses onto Wooyoon’s face. The unexpectedly heavy frames slid down his cheeks. Wooyoon pushed them up with the back of his hand and looked around. The sunlight reflecting off the water had stung his eyes, but now, with the shades, he comfortably gawked at the few duck boats floating leisurely and the 63 Building looming close overhead.

“Fuck, this is sneakily annoying.”

Rolling up his shirt sleeves and swearing, Pilsung resumed pedaling, the rusty mechanism creaking. It seemed taxing. Wooyoon recalled Pilsung scolding him for suggesting an automatic duck boat, calling it a dumb idea lacking romance, and giggled softly.

Idiot, Baek Pilsung.

Biting his lip to stifle the laughter bubbling up, Wooyoon stopped admiring the scenery and instead watched Pilsung, panting as he pedaled beside him.

“……”

He’d thought Pilsung was handsome since their first encounter at the morgue. Just that his good looks came with an equally intimidating edge, making him less likable.

Sweeping his hair back with one hand, Pilsung caught Wooyoon’s gaze and grinned, lifting a corner of his mouth.

“What’re you staring at? Your boyfriend sexy?”

“I’ve got nothing to say…”

“Hey, feel my crotch. Fuck, pedaling’s got it pumped.”

Wooyoon shot a disgusted look at Pilsung, suggesting he touch his groin instead of his thigh. He felt ridiculous for briefly thinking Pilsung was cool. Being handsome and being admirable were entirely different things.

“Seriously unbelievable…”

“What’re you mumbling about? Fuck, speak up!”

Pilsung leaned in, tilting his ear toward him. The duck boat tipped toward Wooyoon’s side. Hearing the water slosh, Wooyoon stared at Pilsung’s profile, now inches away.

“What’d you say? Huh?”

The smiling lips drew closer. Pilsung’s scent hit him—a mix of bitter cigarette smoke with something unplaceable, maybe cologne or lotion. The moment Wooyoon registered it, his chest fluttered. Startled by the sudden sensation, his cheeks flushed as he gripped his T-shirt’s chest, crumpling the cartoon character’s face.

I feel sick. Nauseous. It’s not even a pheromone scent, but my heart’s suddenly…

Shaking his head, Wooyoon pulled away from Pilsung’s ear as far as he could.

“It’s… nothing…”

Pilsung chuckled at Wooyoon’s dazed muttering. It was amusing how this cute kid kept doing cute things. Cute ones always had that knack—acting like they knew they were adorable, begging for more affection.

If he’d just let me, I’d fucking pamper him to death.

Smacking his lips regretfully, Pilsung pedaled harder.

Pilsung zipped across the Han River at a fierce pace, as if racing other couples, slowing down only with ten minutes left. The boat stopped near buoys set wide to keep them from drifting too far from the dock. Feeling the boat sway with the current, Wooyoon calmed his queasy chest and picked at the cotton candy he’d been saving.

The long-awaited treat melted instantly in his mouth, an odd texture, but the taste was just plain sugar—nothing special. It could’ve been disappointing, yet Wooyoon felt good. He’d once made a trendy bucket list, and eating “something pretty and useless” was third on it. Fulfilling that alone overwhelmed him.

Silently watching Wooyoon nibble the cotton candy, Pilsung yawned with a bored look and stretched.

“Haah! Fuck, hurry up and eat. Wanna hold hands.”

“……”

Shifting the cotton candy to his other hand, Wooyoon offered his free one. Glancing down at it, Pilsung asked in a suddenly low voice.

“What’s this?”

His sharp eyes flicked between the outstretched hand and Wooyoon’s clear face. Wooyoon replied triumphantly.

“You said it’s your duty to protect it.”

Pilsung stared at Wooyoon, bringing up the hand-holding clause from their conditional relationship, then spoke.

“That’s… it?”

“……”

Wooyoon blinked wide. The cautious tone didn’t match the low voice. It felt like Pilsung expected something—or dreaded something. Wooyoon had assumed following his self-imposed boyfriend duties would please him, but this reaction was unexpected. Rolling his eyes slightly, he raised his brows and asked.

“Then what else is there?”

He was willing to match whatever answer Pilsung gave. He was grateful for all Baek Pilsung had done, happy to see him after so long, and he was fun to be around.

But Pilsung just snatched his hand with a sharp “snap,” saying nothing more. Held tight by a much larger hand, Wooyoon, like that morning, could only gauge Pilsung’s mood. Staring at his expressionless profile, his calmed chest thumped again. No scent this time, yet his stomach churned.

Am I… seasick?

His droopy eyes narrowed. His neck felt hot, his palms sweaty. Curling inward, he hunched to quiet his pounding chest.

After dining with Pilsung at a window seat overlooking Gangbyeonbuk-ro, Wooyoon gazed at the night-draped Han River. The dessert—cake and ice cream—was nearly gone, leaving just a bit of black tea on the table, blending perfectly with the night view. Though clueless about music, Wooyoon sank into the slow jazz melody enhancing the relaxed vibe, feeling this was far more romantic than pedaling a duck boat.

As Wooyoon swung his sneaker-clad feet, the pristine white tablecloth fluttered. Pilsung, propping his chin, watched Wooyoon watching the scenery. Mentally rehearsing the words he’d prepared that morning while squatting by the shoe rack, he soon frowned.

Whatever Nam Wooyoon says doesn’t matter. Fuck, I’m keeping him by my side anyway.

His head refused to entertain Wooyoon’s opinion, but his lips kept drying out like he was nervous. Wetting them with his tongue, Pilsung cleared his throat with a “hmph.”

“Eat well?”

“Yeah! This place is really tasty and nice.”

“……”

Gazing at Wooyoon’s eyes sparkling at the lit Han River bridge, Pilsung paused, then spoke again.

“Nam Wooyoon.”

“Hm?”

Lost in the mesmerizing nightscape, Wooyoon turned to Pilsung with a rising lilt. Pilsung’s face was more serious than ever—no trace of a smile or mischief, just a cold, sharp edge to his eyes. Wooyoon’s lips twitched blankly at the inscrutable gaze.

“What’s… wrong…?”

“Found your brother.”

His heart plummeted. The constant jazz faded out. Even Pilsung’s voice, speaking across the table with a blank face, sounded muffled, like underwater. His heart raced, breathing faltered, and he could only stare wide-eyed at Pilsung.

“Was gonna tell you later… but no point dragging it out.”

Wooyoon gripped the tablecloth unconsciously. His palms grew clammy.

“Caught your brother. He’s in Incheon now.”

His vision spun from shock. Pilsung’s face blurred.

“Figured you should hear about Nam Hee-jae’s situation first, so I didn’t ask what he’s been up to.”

Feeling his neck burn, Wooyoon twisted his feet under the table. His racing heart wouldn’t settle, eyes darting anxiously as he silently pressed his right foot hard onto his left.

“Going to see him tomorrow. I’ll take you.”

“Uh…”

Clenching his teeth and bowing his head, Wooyoon muttered faintly, trembling.

“How…, how…”

How could this happen? How could hearing news of the brother he’d longed to find make him realize his feelings for Baek Pilsung?

His sunken heart wasn’t from facing his brother soon to demand why he’d been so cruel—it was entirely because of Baek Pilsung. Wooyoon, who’d only wanted to have fun with Pilsung as usual, swallowed dryly with a stiff face.

With his brother found, there’s no need to keep pretending to be lovers with Baek Pilsung. No more boyfriend duties. No holding hands, no seeing his face, no taking his calls.

No more care from Baek Pilsung. No more meals together. No more hanging out. It’ll be boring. Lonely. Anxious.

Without lifting his head, Wooyoon rubbed his flushed neck with the back of his hand.

He’d vowed to cut ties with this thug once his brother was found, thinking they’d become friends somehow—but it wasn’t that…

Tears welled in his big eyes. Slowly raising his head, Wooyoon looked at Pilsung across the table.

Baseless irritation and joy. Constantly reading his mood. Heat from casual touches that wouldn’t fade. It was all the clumsy onset of first love.

A tear dropped from his wide eyes onto his red cheek. His pupils trembled in confusion as he gazed at Pilsung, who tilted his head silently watching him.

How could I like a thug?

“N-No… way…”

“……”

Pilsung looked at Wooyoon, mumbling “no way” as tears fell, with a heavy heart. Facing the brother who’d abandoned him must be a shock. Everyone has someone like that—a person whose existence is a wound.

Fiddling with the long scar on his throat, Pilsung waited for Wooyoon to calm down. Seeing no sign of the anxiety fading from his shaky eyes, he spoke again. What he really wanted to say came now.

“Say everything you want to your brother. Or fuck, beat the shit out of him.”

“……”

“Then end it with me.”

At “end,” Wooyoon’s wet eyes quivered. Another word from Pilsung sank his heart again. His choked voice cracked.

“End… end it…?”

“We agreed to play lovers until I found your brother. Let’s end that.”

“……”

“Meet Nam Hee-jae tomorrow, sort it out, ditch that shitty room, and then. And then…”

Struggling to speak, Pilsung fumbled in his jacket pocket as if struck by a sudden thought. He’d forgotten the sunglasses he’d put there after the duck boat. Nearly fucked up at a crucial moment. Yanking them out, he put them on and said firmly.

“Live with me. I’ll take care of you.”

“……”

“Fuck, no conditions or anything—just… be my boyfriend. I’ll cherish you like crazy.”

“Urgh…!”

Wooyoon clamped his mouth, feeling his heart might burst, and hunched under the table. His sweat-soaked back clung, knees trembling.

Nauseous. Gonna puke. My chest’s gonna explode…

“Hey. Nam Wooyoon.”

“Ugh…, hic.”

Unable to bear the confusion, Wooyoon let tears fall. Feeling close to a thug who’d come to collect money was worlds apart from liking him.

How could I…! How could I with Baek Pilsung…! He’s not all bad, he’s been good to me, he’s handsome, but still. Still…!

Liking was always Pilsung’s thing, not his. But realizing it was his problem now left Wooyoon at a loss. Love from videos and books, sprawled out in his tiny room, wasn’t like this. He’d imagined a pleasant thrill, not this body-shattering shock.

Before he could sort his chaotic mind, his body, newly aware of love, thrashed as if proving how much it liked Baek Pilsung. No time to feel relieved that Pilsung’s “end” wasn’t what he’d feared—his heart raced at the promise to live with him, terrifying him like a panic attack.

“What’s wrong? Sick?”

“Hoo…, hoo…”

Sensing something off in Wooyoon’s curled-up stillness, Pilsung pushed his chair back and stood. Kneeling beside him, he lowered himself, removed his sunglasses with one hand, and bent deeply to see his sweat-drenched face clutching his stomach and chest.

His neck was red, trembling noticeably—suspicious, but not a heat. If he’d taken the suppressants Pilsung got him, the cycle should’ve passed.

Worried that Nam Wooyoon, who’d eaten the couple’s course fine moments ago, might be sick from hearing about his brother, Pilsung reached out, saying “Let me see.” Just then, Wooyoon, hunched and still, shot up.

“Don’t touch me. I really… might puke…”

Squeezing out his voice with effort, he stood. Fear had silenced him when they first met; now, his racing heart choked his words. How could this be?

“Wanna go home… I’m going…”

“……”

Clenching a fist with a gold ring glinting on his pinky, Pilsung straightened his bent knees and stood. Silently watching Wooyoon, head bowed in the shadow he cast, he turned away.

Pilsung’s car stopped at the familiar gate. They’d ridden together plenty, but this silent drive was a first. In the passenger seat, Wooyoon fidgeted with his nails like a guilty child.

It was fine on the duck boat. No, even during dinner…

“……”

“……”

The car’s AC brushed Wooyoon’s bangs lightly. Watching them flutter over his brow, tickling to onlookers, Pilsung broke the long silence, calling him abruptly.

“Hey.”

“……!”

Stopping mid-motion from picking at the rough skin around his nails, Wooyoon’s eyes widened as he turned to Pilsung. Leaning an arm on the steering wheel, Pilsung looked at him. His stiff face and faintly trembling eyes mirrored that time at the valley.

“Seeing your brother tomorrow?”

Wooyoon shook his head quickly. He’d been lost on what to ask, what face to make, what to do when meeting his brother—but that wasn’t the issue now. All he could think about was how to handle Pilsung and this confusing emotion.

“Well, see him whenever you feel like it. My guys will keep him safe…”

Trailing off, Pilsung reached for Wooyoon, whose lips were sealed tight. His palm slid over the fidgeting hand. But the small hand, easily overpowered if grabbed, slipped out defiantly.

“……”

Retracting his hand, Pilsung twitched his thick brows silently. He’d been unsure earlier, but now it was clear. Nam Wooyoon wasn’t nauseous from hearing about his brother. He’d freaked out at the idea of living together. Thinking things were going well lately was, once again, his delusion. A hollow laugh escaped him.

“Ha…”

Rubbing his jaw awkwardly, Pilsung smirked. Wooyoon’s opinion didn’t matter to his plan of taking him in—but it wasn’t entirely irrelevant. Wooyoon’s reaction soured his mood.

Hardening his self-mocking expression, Pilsung asked quietly.

“You said you didn’t hate me. So when’ll you like me?”

“……!”

Startled, shoulders jolting, Wooyoon bit his lower lip instead of answering. Thump, thump, thump. His heart felt like it was pounding in his head. Opening his mouth might spill it out.

I already like you.

He couldn’t say it. The freshly realized feeling was still so strange and confusing that he bowed his flushed face deeply, silent. Watching him quietly, Pilsung smacked his lips bitterly and said.

“Doesn’t matter if you never do. Feels shitty, but fuck it, I’m keeping you anyway, so know that.”

Anyway. That one word from Pilsung dragged up the voice he’d struggled to muster.

“No, I…!”

He opened his mouth urgently. Just then, the old iron gate screeched open harshly.

“Damn it! What uneducated bastard’s illegally parking in front of Oh Choong-man’s house?!”

The landlord stormed out, baseball bat in hand, swinging at the air furiously. Interrupted mid-crucial talk, Pilsung shut his eyes tight, brow furrowing. He swallowed the rage surging up.

Already feeling like shit, one swing of that bat to the head, fuck…

“Who’s shamelessly sticking around in front of me?”

At the landlord’s yell, Pilsung’s eyes snapped open, twisting to get out of the car. Wooyoon, who’d been watching nervously, grabbed his arm as he moved to the driver’s side.

“I’m going in. You go too.”

Before Pilsung could reply, Wooyoon bolted from the car like a fugitive. Darting past the landlord jabbing the air threateningly with the bat, he raced down the dark stairs.

Kicking off his shoes and entering his room, Wooyoon locked the door and rubbed his pounding chest.

— I’m keeping you anyway, so know that.

“Ha… Can’t breathe…”

With trembling hands, he clutched the cartoon face printed large on his chest.

He’d ignored or brushed off Pilsung’s reckless words before, but not anymore. Their weight had shifted, too heavy to let slide. The promise to keep him despite abandoning blood family echoed in his ears.

Anyway. No conditions, just because. No reason or need—just me…

Wooyoon fiddled with his hot ears with both hands.

Leaning against the locked door, he slowly recalled love scenes from dramas and movies. Chewing over the countless faces confessing in various settings and languages, he realized one thing.

Love must be spoken. Today, his heart raced too wildly, too frighteningly, to say anything—but it had to be said. To Baek Pilsung.

I like you. I already do.

How they met, how he could like a thug—those didn’t matter anymore. He wanted to say it. To tell him.

A faint smile curved Wooyoon’s lips as he gripped his chest. The body-shattering shock, followed by overwhelming fullness—that was love’s true face.

***

After coolly eating the chilled bean sprout soup Pilsung sent that morning, Wooyoon had nothing to do. He’d lived as a jobless drifter before the mart, but feeling bored now was oddly new.

He used to reread books dozens of times to kill time, but now, no matter how bored, he didn’t want to touch them. Same with TV. So he sprawled in front of the fan, staring at his phone. Pilsung had told him to pack, but there was little worth taking—just a few worn clothes.

“……”

He had to say he liked him, but when? Closing his eyes, he rested the silent phone on his forehead. Confessions in videos and books usually happened in special places—rooms decked with balloons and flowers, or scenic travel spots meant to linger in memory.

Hands clasped neatly on his stomach, Wooyoon basked in the fan’s breeze, lost in daydreams. But he soon stopped, realizing he lacked the means for such things.

He should do what he could. Like Baek Pilsung, who fed him breakfast, bought him necessities, and cared for him.

Lazily sprawled, Wooyoon shot up from the floor. Rummaging through the Nike bag Pilsung gave him, he found the cash stack from his last workday, forgotten in the chaos. Giving a gift bought with his first and final earnings while confessing seemed fitting enough. His lips curled up slightly.

“First, the rent…”

Clutching the cash in one hand, he changed clothes. Securing the broken strap with a clothespin, Wooyoon slung the messenger bag diagonally, slipped on his sneakers, and dashed up the stairs. He headed straight for the landlord’s.

The landlord, stepping out the gate, eyed Wooyoon—who’d boldly rung the bell—up and down disapprovingly. Bowing, Wooyoon pulled the money from his bag and offered it.

“This month’s rent. I meant to give it sooner, sorry…”

Taking the bank envelope, the landlord spat on his hand and counted the bills one by one. After triple-checking the small sum, he shot Wooyoon a suspicious look.

“Where’d you get this kind of money? Those shady alpha punks coming around—did you really…?”

Cutting off the landlord’s attempt to label him a gold-digger again, Wooyoon said,

“I worked at the mart. That’s it.”

Bowing again to avoid more sour words, he turned and sprinted down the alley. No time to deal with the landlord. Today was crucial—he had to confess. His steps quickened.

Entering an underwear store for the first time, Wooyoon scanned the sections divided by trait and headed for the beta corner. Men’s underwear was plainer than women’s, but even that overwhelmed him. In his twenty years, he’d never bought his own—how could he pick someone else’s?

He wasn’t there for anything shady, yet he felt embarrassed. Running over with cash had been tense but exciting; now he just wanted to buy and leave. Scratching his head, he paced aimlessly in front of a mannequin.

“Looking for a specific brand?”

“Huh?”

Startled by the sudden voice, Wooyoon stumbled back from the employee. Unfazed, she pressed on smoothly.

“This is the beta section… A gift?”

Sizing up Wooyoon’s appearance and guessing his trait, she grinned. Overwhelmed by her friendliness, he dropped his gaze and mumbled, “Yes.”

“Who’s it for? Age range…?”

“My boyf—boyfriend… Twenty-five…”

Sweat beaded at his temples. Why she needed age for underwear baffled him, but he answered dutifully. Leaning an arm on the display, the employee pulled out some non-discounted new items and spread them out for the flushed customer.

“These are popular with young folks.”

Staring at the floor, Wooyoon flicked his eyes up briefly to scan the new drawers, then dropped them again. Pointing to the red one in the middle, he said,

“That one, please.”

“Alright, I’ll get it ready. Size…?”

“Th-this…?”

Flustered, Wooyoon raised a clenched fist, gauging Pilsung’s size from the few times he’d seen it. Should he base it on when erect for comfort? But he’d mostly be out of them then—maybe flaccid was better? Though Baek Pilsung didn’t always get hard just when stripped.

Tilting his head, he adjusted the length with his propped hand. The employee, expertly handling the clueless first-timer, clamped her mouth shut, staring at Wooyoon with an incredulous look.

Back home, he called Pilsung, but no answer. Placing the neatly ribboned shopping bag on the dresser, he plugged in his wireless earbuds. Pilsung’s singing flowed out. Humming along, Wooyoon flopped onto the floor.

“…Ha, I’m nervous.”

Just imagining confessing to Pilsung made his heart race. How did Baek Pilsung say such things so casually every time he saw him? It baffled him, but now he understood why Pilsung grinned at him so often. His own lips kept twitching upward uncontrollably.

Closing his eyes, Wooyoon listened to Pilsung’s song, giggling aloud with a “hehe.”

Maybe the fatigue from the mart piled up, or the tension from yesterday’s date and thoughts of Pilsung wore him out—when he opened his eyes, dusk had fallen. The earbuds, battery drained, were silent.

Rubbing sleepy eyes and sitting up, Wooyoon pulled them from his ears and checked his phone. No word from Pilsung.

Busy again? Why does he always vanish for work out of nowhere? Is that just a thug’s life?

Guess most of it’s illegal… Baek Pilsung’s a thug, after all…

That he wasn’t all bad didn’t erase that fact.

Does he… do a lot of bad stuff?

Narrowing his brow, Wooyoon pondered, then shook his head. Believing otherwise was foolish—he knew that. The Baek Pilsung who’d rambled about eyeballs at the morgue during their first meeting wasn’t above it.

But he didn’t want to dwell on the bad. Right now, he just… wanted to like him.

There was no way it could’ve disappeared, but Wooyoon still checked with his eyes to confirm that the shopping bag he’d placed on the dresser was still there. Only after seeing it exactly where he’d left it did a smile spread across his lips.

Should he try calling Pilsung again? Hesitating with the phone in hand, he picked up the remote instead.

It feels embarrassing, like I’m gearing up to confess…

With a flushed face, he turned on the TV. Flipping through channels on the old set that occasionally buzzed with static, he paused at a news report about a fire that broke out at dawn.

“Huh…?”

The building with its blackened exterior walls and gray smoke billowing from shattered windows was the mart Wooyoon had quit just the day before. Wide-eyed, he stared blankly at the manager being interviewed against the backdrop of the burned-out structure.

[Ugh, everything’s gone up in flames, I tell you. Someone set the fire and ran off right before the staff showed up—real clever, huh? This isn’t just a fire; it’s arson! Arson! Me and my employees lost our jobs overnight. The government needs to step in…]

Watching the manager pound his chest in appeal, Wooyoon turned off the TV. It was an unbelievable coincidence. A place tied to him had gone up in flames—his heart raced. From the manager’s interview, it seemed no employees were hurt in the blaze. He thought it was a small mercy amid misfortune that it happened before anyone arrived, yet a strange feeling lingered. The place that had unjustly cast him out was gone.

Trying to clear his mind of overly dark thoughts, a loud bang came from outside—someone pounding on the door. In this smelly, dilapidated basement room, only one person would visit at this hour.

Baek Pilsung. Baek Pilsung is here.

Dropping the remote and springing up, Wooyoon rushed to the door, not far away. Rubbing his already warming cheeks with the back of his hand at the thought of seeing Pilsung, he flung the locked door wide open.

“Baek…! Oh…”

Confirming the visitor’s face, Wooyoon furrowed his gentle, droopy eyes.

“What’s the matter…?”

He pulled the door he’d thrown open slightly shut, eyeing the landlord standing outside warily. Even when he lived with his brother, the landlord rarely came down the stairs. Except for unannounced inspections, the man usually just glared down at them from above like they were vermin, shouting.

Having paid the rent that morning, Wooyoon looked at the landlord suspiciously, wondering what business brought him to the room.

“Heyy.”

The landlord’s slurred call sounded off. Dressed in a white tank top with stretched straps under an unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt, and wearing either boxer briefs or shorts—it was hard to tell—he reeked of alcohol, stronger than when Wooyoon had paid the rent earlier.

“I’ll… just close the door.”

The landlord quickly pushed past Wooyoon as he tried to shut it. Though they were similar in height, the landlord’s stocky build had more brute strength. Forcing his way in, he drove the retreating Wooyoon to the center of the room, grabbing his hand and rubbing the back of it repeatedly.

“Imagine how tasty the food would be if these soft hands cooked it?”

“What? Why are you doing this all of a sudden!”

Startled, Wooyoon tried to pull his hand free, but the landlord gripped his wrist tightly, his booze-reddened face pressing closer with a question.

“Youuu, an omega?”

“……!”

Wooyoon’s eyes shook wildly. He’d been living here for two years, hiding his trait from the trait-hating landlord. Pilsung had said he’d take him in soon, so he’d leave this place, but he still felt guilty about the deception.

“That’s, uh, there’s a reason…”

“Don’t bother selling your body for cash—live with me, Oh Choong-man, and keep house instead.”

Wooyoon’s face twisted in confusion. The landlord, who’d always clicked his tongue at him and his brother, calling them omega-like gold-diggers and ranting at trait-hater rallies, now leered at him despite suspecting he was an omega. It didn’t add up.

Snapping out of it as the grip tightened on his wrist and hand, Wooyoon realized the man’s gaze wasn’t normal. With a surge of effort, he shouted.

“G-Get out! Don’t come near me!”

“That guy I saw yesterday—your sugar daddy? You should learn sex from a real man.”

Rage surged to his head, nausea rising. Wooyoon shook off the landlord’s thick hand with all his might. Despite his small frame, a trait of omegas, he was a twenty-year-old man. In a pinch, he had enough strength to resist an aging landlord.

Stepping back, he warned,

“Stop it. If you keep saying weird stuff, I’ll push you, mister.”

“They say omegas get wet down there even as guys—did he check how wet you are? Should I?”

Slapping away the hand reaching for his crotch, Wooyoon yelled a final warning.

“I’ll really push you! If you keep being rude, I’ll use force! I-I might even hit you, mister!”

“Touch mine and compare it to an alpha’s. Your brother gave discounts of fifty thousand won.”

“Wh-What…!”

The sudden mention of his brother twisted Wooyoon’s face into a fierce scowl as he shoved the landlord’s shoulders. With a thud, the man fell backward, groaning “Aigo.” Ignoring him, Wooyoon moved to leave, but collapsed in place. The landlord had grabbed his ankle and yanked his leg.

Unaware of the numbness in his chin from hitting the floor, Wooyoon grappled with the landlord on the sticky, humid floor, struggling against his overpowering force.

“Move! Why are you doing this to me!!”

“Damn it! Stay still!”

Tussling back and forth, the landlord gained the upper hand, pinning Wooyoon’s waist down to immobilize him. Memories of nearly being assaulted by a gang of thugs flooded back. His breath caught in his throat.

“Haa, haa, haa…!”

“So soft and tender—are you really a guy?”

“Ugh! Move, I said move!”

Thrashing to push off the heavy body crushing his stomach, Wooyoon’s hand caught his bag. Desperately fumbling, he pulled out the self-defense pepper spray Pilsung had bought him and, without a second thought, sprayed it repeatedly at the landlord’s face.

“Arghhh!! Gaaahhh!!”

The landlord, lunging with half-lidded eyes, clutched his face with both hands and toppled backward. Rolling on the floor, he flailed his legs like an upturned bug. Scooting away on his backside, Wooyoon crawled toward the open door.

“Agh, my eyes!! I can’t see! I can’t see! Gah, hack!!”

“Haa…, haa…”

Unable to straighten his trembling legs, Wooyoon knelt, gasping as he glanced back at the landlord. The man, flushed red all over, writhed in agony, drooling heavily onto the floor.

“Save me! I can’t see! Argh! I’ll go blind! Aigo, aigo!”

“Shh…”

A small hiss escaped Wooyoon’s teeth as his large eyes blinked, quickly filling with tears.

What if he really gets hurt bad? No, he’s the one who messed up. I was just defending myself…

His mind screamed to run regardless of the man’s suffering, but his body wouldn’t obey. He looked between the stairs outside and the landlord. All the while, the man wailed that his eyes were burning.

Sirens blared loudly in the narrow alley. The landlord, crouched in front of an ambulance with an ice pack on his face, shouted complaints at the police and paramedics investigating the scene.

“What do I lack that I’d molest some omega trash?! Think about it! Me, Oh Choong-man, I despise omegas, alphas, all those freaks born wrong. I go to every protest—last year, I even got an outstanding member award, you hear me!”

“Alright, just get in the vehicle, sir. Get treated first; we’ll take your formal statement at the station.”

As the police loaded the landlord into the ambulance, an officer turned to Wooyoon. Sniffling, Wooyoon watched the cop exchange words over a radio, trembling. His heart pounded, sweat poured—he didn’t even notice he was exuding a fear-driven pheromone scent.

A paramedic approached the quaking Wooyoon, who was only watching the officer’s mood, and whispered cautiously, just loud enough for him to hear.

“You did well calling it in. They’ll take it into account.”

Too tense to fully grasp her words, Wooyoon just nodded stiffly. The paramedic gave his young, rigid face a pitying look before boarding the ambulance and leaving. Then the officer, done with the radio, beckoned Wooyoon closer.

Grabbing Wooyoon’s hesitant arm, the officer cuffed him first. The heavy, cold metal clamped around both wrists.

“You know trait-holders involved as suspects in assault or injury get cuffed during detainment, right? Your status as a suspect may change after investigation; this is just procedure for now.”

Twisting his cuffed wrists, Wooyoon hurriedly spoke to the officer, who’d finished the formal notice in a businesslike tone.

“But I! He tried to, uh, r-rape me…!”

“Yes, even with a reason, detaining trait-holders is unavoidable. It’s the law.”

The officer gripped Wooyoon’s forearm with one hand, leading him to the patrol car. Stumbling along, Wooyoon pleaded in a teary voice.

“Can’t I just make one call?”

“You’ll get time for that at the station.”

Answering matter-of-factly, as if used to such cases, the officer opened the patrol car’s back door. Pressing Wooyoon’s head to guide him in, he slammed the door shut without hesitation.

Wooyoon pressed his face to the window, peering out. The late evening commotion had drawn neighborhood onlookers. A decent crowd had gathered, but none were faces he could ask for help. Never leaving his tiny room, he naturally knew no one.

“Ugh… Hoo…”

Clenching his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut and opened them against the blurring vision.

I should’ve gone along with Baek Pilsung yesterday. Should’ve said I liked him. Should’ve said I wanted to live together. Told him to take me away right then…

“Hic…”

Forehead pressed to the glass, breathing heavily, Wooyoon curled up and burst into sobs. The officer in the front seat, glancing at his phone, chatted casually with his partner boarding the passenger side about their last team dinner, as if the sobbing from the back was routine.

The patrol car in the alley turned off its siren and pulled onto the road. During the drive to the precinct, the officers traded trivial jokes. Overhearing their friendly banter, Wooyoon kept thinking of Pilsung—the only person he could rely on.

Under the cold lights of a warehouse, Gidong stood with a fairly dignified expression, hands clasped behind his back, flicking his eyes side to side briefly. Spotting Pilsung’s finger twitch in the air, he spoke.

“The door opens. He comes in slowly.”

Mimicking reading stage directions, Gidong’s voice prompted Pilsung to mime opening a door. Then he shuffled in with quick steps. Covering his mouth with one hand and hunching his broad shoulders as much as possible, Pilsung was acting as Wooyoon.

“Hyuuung!”

Pilsung raised his tone higher than his usual voice to call out Hee-jae. Kneeling with his arms bound, shirtless, Hee-jae struggled to lift his head toward Pilsung. Thick veins bulged on the arms with rolled-up white shirt sleeves. Even through blurry vision, Pilsung’s exaggerated fussing was nauseatingly fake.

Squatting in front of Hee-jae, whose eyes twitched faintly, Pilsung continued.

“Hyung! What the fuck is all this!”

“……”

“…Say your lines.”

Pilsung whispered low to Hee-jae, who stared at him with unfocused eyes. Hee-jae’s chapped lips parted.

“Nam Wooyoon… It’s been… a long time…”

“Sob sob! You damn bastard of a brother, fuck, how’ve you been all this time!”

“Just…”

“Why’d you do that shit to me? Hic, tell me, hyung!”

“……”

Hee-jae silently watched Pilsung, heaving his thick shoulders and chest, twisting his fierce face into a fake cry, then muttered in a cracking voice.

“Sorry… Don’t forgive me… Live happily…”

“Okay!”

Snap! With a crisp sound, Pilsung flicked his fingers in the air and stood with a grunt. The days of training with saltwater feeding had paid off.

Pilsung figured Wooyoon deserved to know why Hee-jae did it, what he’d been through—it was the victim’s right. But on second thought, there was no need for Wooyoon to know the details. What could soft-hearted Nam Wooyoon do with that knowledge but offer powerless forgiveness? Pilsung didn’t want perpetrators begging victims for pardon. Wrongdoings should face punishment, not absolution.

Sweeping his grabbed hair back with one hand, Pilsung lowered his rolled-up sleeves and ordered Gidong.

“Don’t forget to doll that bastard up nice when he meets Nam Wooyoon. Dress him in new clothes, like he’s been eating well and living fine.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Oh, and cover his left hand with a glove.”

If Nam Wooyoon saw his brother’s missing finger, those dumb droopy eyes would close as he bawled. He wouldn’t even know how useless and wasteful pity tears were for a hopeless human.

Frowning, Pilsung took a cigarette from Gidong and lit it, recalling yesterday’s still-unsettled shock.

-Don’t touch me. I really might puke.

“Ha, this fucker… Little shit’s got a sharp tongue…”

Mumbling as he puffed the cigarette Gidong lit, Pilsung fumed. That pushover was only tough with him—it pissed him off.

Slipping the lighter into his jacket pocket, Gidong cautiously glanced at Pilsung and asked.

“Still, he didn’t reject you this morning—ain’t that a green light?”

“True, huh?”

Raising one eyebrow and jumping at the cue, Pilsung got a quick nod from Gidong. Taking another long drag through his teeth, he grabbed the suit jacket tossed on the forklift. He was about to call Wooyoon when his phone rang.

“What the fuck.”

Staring at an unfamiliar number on the screen, he pressed accept.

“Baek Pilsung speaking.”

[Hic…]

A sniffling sob filled his ear. Pilsung’s face twisted hard. What idiot would try voice phishing a thug? The world’s gone to shit. About to hang up, a teary voice called, “Baek Pilsung.”

“Nam Wooyoon?”

[Hic…]

“Why’re you crying? Fuck, hello?”

Pressing the phone tight to his ear, Pilsung strode to a quieter corner of the warehouse. Wooyoon’s voice came clearer, but the sobs muddled his words.

“I’m listening, so speak slow and clear. Can’t help if I don’t get it. Got it?”

[I…, hic, I…]

“You what.”

Snapping brusquely to calm the crying Wooyoon, Pilsung paced in place, a hand on his hip, unable to hide his unease. Why call from a strange number? Why cry? Bad scenarios raced through his mind.

[Baek Pilsung… hic, I think I’m going to jail…]

The word “jail” hit, absent from even his worst imaginings, leaving Pilsung momentarily dumbfounded, mouth agape. Wooyoon’s sniffles persisted.

[I’m in jail…]

Dropping the cigarette stuck to his lips, Pilsung asked sharply.

“What the hell does that mean?”

[I, I hit someone…, hit a person… A beta, and they say I’m going to jail, hic…]

Was he in jail, going to jail, or just scared into thinking so? That Wooyoon hit a beta didn’t sound believable. He didn’t know what mess he’d stumbled into, but Wooyoon could swing a punch in a fit—maybe one hit. Enough to land him in jail, though? That lacked credibility.

[What do I… do, Pilsung…]

“Where are you now.”

Unable to make sense of Wooyoon’s sudden call, Pilsung’s shoes moved fast at the sound of “Pilsung-ah,” urgently gesturing Gidong to follow. When Nam Wooyoon called, no matter the reason, no matter how absurd, he had to go. That was the pure devotion of top thug Baek Pilsung, pledged to Wooyoon.