One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 2.2

…He looks delicious.

Gidong, catching Pilsung’s gaze lingering on Wooyoon’s flushed face and neck in the rearview mirror, cleared his throat.

“What are you looking at, asshole?” Pilsung snapped, his own gaze darting nervously towards the front, then back at Wooyoon. Wooyoon’s small hand was fidgeting with the hem of his ridiculous NASA t-shirt. He was pretending to sleep.

“Hey.”

“…….”

Wooyoon didn’t respond, likely embarrassed about being drunk after only one bottle of soju. Pilsung turned around, his large frame hunched over so his head almost touched the car roof. He suddenly grabbed Wooyoon’s side. Wooyoon’s ribs, which had been rising and falling with each breath, froze.

Squeezing Wooyoon’s thin frame, Pilsung whispered, “What, are you going to space? Why are you wearing this shit?”

“…….”

Wooyoon finally opened his eyes, his long, pale lashes fluttering. He glanced sideways at Pilsung, his voice barely a whisper, “It hurts…”

His warm hand, perhaps due to the alcohol, covered Pilsung’s. Pilsung’s smile vanished, his thick eyebrows twitching in surprise. He’d underestimated Nam Wooyoon; the kid had more boldness than he’d thought. And Pilsung liked it.

He imagined Wooyoon taking charge in bed, and a shiver ran down his spine. His gaze flickered between Wooyoon’s face and their intertwined fingers, Wooyoon’s pale hand dwarfed by his own.

“How about… hmm, we skip the coffee and go… somewhere else?”

His voice was strangely hoarse. He glanced at the rearview mirror, his face hot. Gidong was watching them, of course. Embarrassed, he avoided Gidong’s gaze. Wooyoon’s fingers tightened around his. He quickly turned to him.

“W-what is it?”

“I… I want to go home… Let me go…”

Gidong burst out laughing. Pilsung flung Wooyoon’s hand away and kicked the back of the driver’s seat repeatedly. Gidong continued laughing, even as the car shook from Pilsung’s furious kicks.

Pilsung deposited a dozing Wooyoon at a table by the café window and returned with a tray laden with pastries. While Wooyoon slept peacefully, Pilsung’s heart still raced. He sat down, pulled the straw out of his iced Americano, and gulped it down, leaving only ice cubes.

He licked his dry lips, then started the conversation. “You don’t go to school, so what do you do all day? You’re not out gallivanting like Nam Heejai, are you?”

Wooyoon, who had been dozing with his mouth slightly open, miraculously heard his brother’s name and opened his eyes, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

“I just… wait for my brother.”

“All day in that basement?”

“Yes.”

“Haah… that’s fucked up…”

Pilsung placed a pastry on Wooyoon’s plate and rubbed his tired eyes.

Nam Heejai, who’d always whined about being a sled dog for his Omega brother, wasn’t a sled dog; he was just a bastard. He hadn’t just abandoned his brother to escape poverty; it was worse than that.

He’d kept Wooyoon unregistered to save money, and out of school to avoid being caught. Wooyoon wouldn’t have received the government-provided suppressants, which is why he was confined to that basement apartment. Alone.

Pilsung stared at Wooyoon, his eyelids drooping, and memories of his own childhood, memories he tried to forget but couldn’t, surfaced.

There was a reason he was drawn to vulnerable creatures. They reminded him of himself.

“From now on, you can come with me for pastries.”

“Like… a pastry shuttle?”

“Wow, do popular cafés have shuttle buses now? Business must be booming.”

Pilsung looked around the café, filled with couples taking pictures. He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number.”

Wooyoon, chewing on an ice cube Pilsung had left him, shook his head. “I don’t have a phone. Really…”

Pilsung, pleased that Wooyoon was eating something he’d given him, regardless of what he said, slammed his hand on the table. “Fuck, what era are you living in? No phone? Let’s go get you one after this.”

“…….”

“Can you sing? Let’s go to karaoke.”

Wooyoon glanced at the people behind him, then scratched the table with his fingernail. “Can we… stay here a little longer…? I’m still not sober…”

“Why sober up? We’re going to drink more.”

Pilsung popped an ice cube into his mouth, watching Wooyoon’s cheek bulge around his own, then stood up, humming. He gathered the uneaten pastries in his hand and left the café.

He wanted to be alone with Wooyoon. And karaoke was the perfect place. They could drink, sing, and then… take care of other urges.

He grinned at the thought of touching Wooyoon, then took a large bite of a pastry. He turned around, expecting Wooyoon to be right behind him, but he wasn’t.

He swallowed the pastry and peered through the café window.

Wooyoon was talking to a couple at the next table, gesturing animatedly, trying to explain something. The couple looked unimpressed. The man even wrinkled his nose, likely put off by the smell of alcohol on Wooyoon.

Wooyoon lingered, then glanced towards the window and made eye contact with Pilsung. His thin legs wobbled. Pilsung, amused by his startled expression, beckoned him over.

Wooyoon didn’t move. Pilsung cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Hurry up! Fuck!”

Wooyoon finally understood, his eyes downcast, and walked out of the café. Pilsung grabbed his arm, steadying him as he swayed slightly. He asked if Wooyoon wanted the same phone model as him, but Wooyoon didn’t respond. He figured he was just quiet. It suited his melancholic demeanor.

He bought Wooyoon a phone, then took him to a karaoke room in his territory. He nodded at the owner, who bowed respectfully, and paid for the room and drinks in advance, specifying no “hostesses.” He walked ahead, hands in his pockets.

He stopped at room number 3 and opened the door. He looked up at the mirrored disco ball, slowly rotating, casting colorful patterns across the dimly lit room. He liked the dreamy, stylish effect of the trendy aurora ball.

“What are you doing? Close the door and come here.”

He leaned against the karaoke machine, holding a microphone, and gestured towards the sofa. Wooyoon hesitated by the door, then slowly entered and closed it behind him.

“Not there. Here.”

He shook his head at Wooyoon, who had sat at the far end of the sofa. Wooyoon shifted awkwardly, then slowly moved closer to the karaoke machine.

Pilsung sat Wooyoon down at the edge of the U-shaped sofa and belted out his signature karaoke song, the only English song he knew the lyrics to. His men always cheered when he sang it, but Wooyoon seemed unimpressed.

Annoyed by the lack of enthusiasm, he stopped after the first verse and slammed the microphone on the table.

Ignoring the karaoke machine prompting him to select the next song, he walked over to the refrigerator, grabbed various bottles of alcohol and glasses, and returned to the table, squeezing in next to Wooyoon. Wooyoon quickly shifted away from Pilsung’s large frame.

Pilsung expertly mixed soju and beer in a glass, then added a splash of whiskey for good measure. Being able to make a decent soju bomb without measuring was a valuable skill in their world.

He presented his creation to Wooyoon with a proud smile. “Look at that color. Gorgeous. Not everyone can achieve this. Drink.”

“…….”

“Are you holding a memorial service for your brother? Why aren’t you drinking?”

Wooyoon whimpered and wrapped both hands around the glass.

“…….”

He glanced at Pilsung, his lips parting as if to speak, then closed his eyes and started drinking.

More of the drink spilled down his chin than went down his throat. Pilsung watched, mesmerized, as the liquid trickled down Wooyoon’s smooth jawline and neck. He snatched the glass away and downed the remaining soju bomb himself. He leaned in towards Wooyoon, who was pouting.

He grabbed the collar of Wooyoon’s NASA t-shirt, the rocket glowing faintly in the dim light, and tilted his head. He licked the trail of alcohol on Wooyoon’s neck.

“Ah, uh!”

Wooyoon squirmed and whimpered as Pilsung licked his neck and jaw, his breath hot against his skin. The soju bomb was surprisingly sweet. He ran his tongue along Wooyoon’s prominent neck muscle, then tilted his head further back, nipping gently at the bone behind his ear. Even though the bite wasn’t hard, Wooyoon tensed.

“Ugh, stop it…”

“Haah, I’m just cleaning you, why?”

He gave Wooyoon a chance to explain what he didn’t like, but Wooyoon remained silent. He tilted his head back, trying to put distance between their faces, then closed his eyes and went still, his small body going limp in Pilsung’s arms. He seemed to have fallen asleep, but his arms were still pushing against Pilsung’s chest, preventing him from getting any closer.

“Fucking hell, what a drama queen.”

As he had in the car, Pilsung pulled Wooyoon closer, wrapping his arms around his thin frame. He buried his face in the nape of Wooyoon’s neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of alcohol and cheap cologne mingled with Wooyoon’s natural scent.

“Haah, fuck…”

He exhaled, the swirling, multicolored lights of the disco ball creating a hallucinatory effect. He felt a surge of pleasure, his arousal intensifying. He hadn’t felt this turned on since he’d started taking the pills.

He rubbed Wooyoon’s back and waist, asking, “Why do you keep pretending to sleep, huh?”

“…….”

“Am I that scary?”

He shook Wooyoon gently. Wooyoon’s limp body swayed. He wondered if he needed to resort to counting again, then, staring at Wooyoon’s face, bathed in the colorful lights, he nuzzled his cheek. A mumbled protest escaped Wooyoon’s lips, like a sleepy murmur.

“S-stop it…”

“What?”

He pulled back, his lips still brushing against Wooyoon’s soft cheek. “I… want to go…” Wooyoon mumbled, his voice even softer than before.

“Fuck, I can’t hear you!” he snapped, his voice louder than intended, compensating for Wooyoon’s quietness. He grabbed the microphone from the table and held it to Wooyoon’s lips. Wooyoon’s eyes fluttered open, startled by the touch. He looked up at Pilsung with wide, frightened eyes, and mumbled something. His barely audible words were amplified by the microphone.

“I… want to go to the bathroom…” He gulped nervously mid-sentence.

Pilsung burst into laughter, his body shaking, taking Wooyoon with him.

“Little shit, why are you so dumb?”

He stared at Wooyoon, his eyes darkening. He felt Wooyoon’s erection pressing against him. He was amused that Wooyoon had gotten hard just from having his neck licked.

He stopped laughing and tightened his arms around Wooyoon, pulling him closer.

“Do it in my hand.”

“No…” Wooyoon whispered into the microphone pressed against his lips.

Pilsung scoffed. “No? Then where are you going to do it?”

“…….”

He pushed the microphone away and stared at Wooyoon, his hand reaching for the hem of his shorts. He kneaded Wooyoon’s soft thigh. “Do it in my hand, huh? Haah… I’ll make you come quickly…”

“How… how can I… in your hand…” Wooyoon mumbled.

His hand brushed against something hard beneath the fabric of Wooyoon’s shorts. He paused, confused. Wooyoon’s erection felt… strange.

“What’s so hard about doing it in my hand? You can do it in your mouth too. But why is your dick square…”

“W-wait, uhh, I-I’m about to come, hmph!”

Wooyoon pushed Pilsung away, scrambled off the sofa, and grabbed the trash can under the table. He hunched over, dry heaving, his mouth open, drool dripping down his chin. Pilsung stared at him, dumbfounded, then ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed.

“Haah, fuck…”

He’d thought Wooyoon meant he was about to cum, but he was wrong. He’d almost caught vomit with his bare hands.

“How are you going to puke with nothing in your stomach? You barely ate anything, you didn’t even touch the pastries I bought you.”

“It hurts… Can you stop hitting me…?”

“Hey, why don’t you… take off your pants.”

“…….”

Wooyoon, clutching the empty trash can, looked at Pilsung with tear-filled eyes. Pilsung poked his cheek, amused by the way Wooyoon looked at him without meeting his gaze.

“Why are you so scared? I’m not going to do anything weird. I just want to see what your dick looks like.”

“…….”

Wooyoon stared off into space, then lowered his gaze, his lips trembling. Pilsung flicked his forehead with his middle finger. “Don’t… ah… ugh… please, don’t…”

“No, fuck, I’m not trying to do anything, I just want to see what your dick looks…”

He grabbed Wooyoon’s wrist with one hand, restraining him, and reached inside his shorts with the other. He found the source of the hardness that had been pressing against his leg earlier. It wasn’t Nam Wooyoon’s square dick, but a rectangular cell phone.

“…This isn’t the one I bought you.”

The old phone, its screen protector peeling at the edges, clearly wasn’t the one he’d bought Wooyoon earlier. He narrowed his eyes at Wooyoon.

“You said you didn’t have a phone.”

“…Ugh… help me…”

“No, fuck, who said anything about killing you?”

“I’m… sorry.”

“Oh, you’re sorry?”

“…….”

“I fucking hate being lied to. Why did you lie?”

He wanted to hear Wooyoon’s reason. If it was valid, he’d let it slide. But instead of explaining, Wooyoon suddenly collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

“Huh…!”

His hoarse cries filled the room. Pilsung stared at him, dumbfounded, then scratched his crotch and stood up.

“God…”

He’d been interested in Wooyoon from the start, just wanted to ask for his number, but the kid had run away. Then he wouldn’t open the door when Pilsung visited his apartment. And now, he wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

He’d bought him food, drinks, pastries, coffee, even a phone. He’d been nothing but nice, but Wooyoon hadn’t given him a straight answer all day. He’d held his hand, though, so Pilsung figured he wasn’t completely repulsed by him, which is why he’d brought him here. He’d tried to set the mood with his singing, but he couldn’t understand why Wooyoon was crying and begging for help.

He didn’t understand it logically, but his lower body, still throbbing from being pressed against Wooyoon, seemed to understand perfectly. He paced in front of Wooyoon, then crouched down again, trying to soothe him in a gentle voice.

“Are you going to stop crying?”

“Uhhh… ugh…”

Wooyoon choked back a sob and sat up. Pilsung cupped his tear-streaked face in his hand. Wooyoon’s face was so small it fit easily in his palm.

He wanted to taste those tears, but he wouldn’t force himself on someone who clearly didn’t want it. Baek Pilsung might be a gangster, but he wasn’t a rapist. He wasn’t so desperate that he’d take advantage of a vulnerable kid still grieving for his brother, even if that brother was a scumbag.

“Here, drink this and let’s forget about it.”

He poured Wooyoon another drink, offering it as a peace offering. Wooyoon’s tear-filled eyes flickered towards Pilsung, then down at the glass. He didn’t seem to want it.

“Normally, the older person drinks last, but I’ll make an exception for you today. I’m twenty-five, you little twenty-year-old. You’re still wet behind the ears.”

He glared playfully at Wooyoon, then downed the drink in one gulp, using Wooyoon’s face, still cupped in his hand, as a visual appetizer. He’d intended to only drink half and offer the rest to Wooyoon, but he remembered the kid dry heaving over the trash can.

“Ah.”

He pretended to drain the last drops from the overturned glass onto his head, then pressed his lips against Wooyoon’s. He missed slightly, his lips landing on Wooyoon’s philtrum.

“Dumbass.”

Pilsung wiped Wooyoon’s glistening philtrum with his thumb, a smirk playing on his lips.

Wooyoon fell asleep while Pilsung sang a few more songs. This time, he was genuinely out cold. As Pilsung carried him out of the karaoke room, it was raining, just as forecast. The downpour didn’t bring any relief; the humid air was stifling.

Gidong, smoking under the awning of the building, checked Wooyoon’s neck for a pulse. He expressed relief that Wooyoon was alive, assuming Pilsung had killed him in frustration. Pilsung smacked him on the head.

Leaving Gidong, who hadn’t been drinking, to drive, Pilsung held Wooyoon in the back seat, sniffing his hair. He knew he couldn’t smell Wooyoon’s Omega scent, but he couldn’t help himself.

He carried Wooyoon into his office, leaving the lights off, and headed straight for the sofa. He laid Wooyoon down, sat beside him, and took off his jacket. He pulled out his pill bottle and swallowed two pills. Wooyoon stirred.

“Awake?”

“…….”

Their eyes met in the darkness. Wooyoon smiled shyly at Pilsung, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Pilsung stared at him, dumbfounded, then muttered, “Trying to seduce me now… after cockblocking me… If you’re sober, fine, but it’s raining, so stay the night. I’ll sleep somewhere else—mph!”

Wooyoon’s lips suddenly covered his, cutting him off mid-sentence. Pilsung’s eyebrows twitched, his lower lip caught between Wooyoon’s teeth. He couldn’t process what was happening.

His words slurred slightly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“…….”

Wooyoon’s eyes, so close to his, held his gaze. Pilsung’s heart pounded, just like it had when they first met in the morgue. It beat so hard it ached.

He swallowed, his gaze locked on Wooyoon’s. He mumbled again, “Can I…?”

“…….”

“Can I… kiss you…?”

“…….”

Wooyoon, instead of answering, just smirked and nipped Pilsung’s lower lip. Pilsung’s shoulders twitched.

“Ow!”

“Hehe…” Wooyoon chuckled and wrapped his arms around Pilsung’s neck. An unexpected wrestling match ensued on the old sofa. Wooyoon, who had been so timid and hesitant in the karaoke room, suddenly possessed an unexpected strength.

“Ah, ah, g-get off! Get off me! Hey!”

Pilsung struggled to push Wooyoon away, but the thin arms wrapped around his neck held firm. He didn’t dare grip Wooyoon’s arms too tightly, fearing he’d break them. Wooyoon, clinging to him like a leech, started sucking on his lip.

The sound of wet lips, like a baby suckling on a bottle, filled the dark office. Pilsung’s fingers, which had been trying to pull Wooyoon away by his shirt sleeve, went limp. The sound and the hot, wet sensation against his lips overloaded his senses. He blinked, his eyes unfocused.

“…Mmm… mm…”

Wooyoon made a sound like he was enjoying a delicious meal. Pilsung grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down onto the sofa. His dazed expression was replaced by a look of arousal.

He pulled away from Wooyoon’s lips and peppered his hot cheeks, neck, earlobes, and jaw with kisses. With each kiss, Wooyoon giggled, whether from pleasure or just the ticklish sensation, Pilsung didn’t know.

“Do you like that?”

“Hehe…”

“Fuck, how about here?”

He pressed his lips against the down-turned eyes he’d found so endearing since their first meeting. He puckered his thick lips, trying to make the kisses as gentle as possible, but Wooyoon just groaned. The smile vanished from Wooyoon’s face, and Pilsung quickly lifted his shirt.

“I’ll suck your nipples. You’ll definitely like that.”

“Uh, uhm.”

Wooyoon glanced at him with languid eyes and waved his hand dismissively. Pilsung’s own erection throbbed painfully. He was burning with need. “Why not? You sucked my lips.”

“…….”

“I’ll just suck your nipples.”

“…….”

“I’ll make you feel really good. I’m good at it.”

Despite his efforts, Wooyoon’s sleepy expression didn’t change. Pilsung’s excitement turned to frustration. He felt his temper rising despite the pills he’d taken. He stared intently at Wooyoon’s eyes, his jaw clenched.

“…….”

“So…?”

“…Hehe.”

Wooyoon finally broke their staring contest, a smirk spreading across his lips as he blinked slowly. Pilsung sighed in relief and reached for Wooyoon’s chest, exposed by the rumpled t-shirt.

“Don’t tease me this time. Fuck, I’m not going to stop…”

He whispered, cupping Wooyoon’s small, flat chest in his hands, about to flick his nipple, when Wooyoon flinched, his arms crossing protectively over his chest.

“Hey, raise your arms.”

“…….”

“Fucking hell, put your hands up.”

He whined, frustrated by Wooyoon’s teasing. Wooyoon squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them, looking down at his exposed chest.

“I… want to get up…”

“What? Why? What is it now?”

He tightened his thighs around Wooyoon’s legs, preventing him from moving. He felt Wooyoon’s thin legs pushing against him.

“Ah… it hurts… it hurts…”

“I’ll make it stop hurting. Just raise your arms.”

“Help me… ugh…”

Wooyoon was begging for help again, even though Pilsung wasn’t threatening him with a knife. Pilsung sighed in exasperation. If it had been anyone else, he would have broken their jaw or nose for looking at him with such fear. He was being lenient because he found Wooyoon’s trembling endearing, but after hearing him beg for his life fifteen times today, he was reaching his limit.

“Help… help me…”

“Who said anything about killing you?”

“Uhhh, uhh…”

“Stop making those weird noises and raise your arms. Before I rip this rag of a shirt off you.”

Pilsung glared at the NASA t-shirt, the rocket glowing faintly. Wooyoon suddenly clung to his arm. The same Wooyoon who had been boldly kissing and biting him moments ago was now whimpering.

“Huh… help… sob… help me…”

“God, you’re driving me crazy…”

Should he get angry? Or should he be gentle? He was annoyed by Wooyoon’s crying, but it also stirred his already aroused lower body. If Wooyoon wasn’t so endearingly dumb, if his cries weren’t so alluring, Pilsung would have already taught him a lesson for looking at him like he was some kind of monster.

He was about to shake Wooyoon off when he glanced down at his arm. Wooyoon’s face was pressed against his arm, the fabric of his shirt stretched taut. He felt his anger dissipate.

“Then just open your mouth…”

He abandoned his plan to earn brownie points by expertly sucking Wooyoon’s nipples and decided to make up for the interrupted kiss in the karaoke room. He pushed his thumb into Wooyoon’s open mouth, his thumb brushing against Wooyoon’s tongue.

“…….”

“Haah, fuck…”

He couldn’t resist any longer. He grabbed Wooyoon’s neck and kissed him, trying to be gentle despite his raging arousal. He rubbed his tongue against Wooyoon’s, who was passively accepting the kiss.

The purple pills were within reach. He’d just taken two, but he could always take more if needed. He just needed to be patient, gentle…

“Haah… stick your tongue out more…”

Wooyoon shook his head, his eyes closed, his wet lips trembling slightly. Pilsung’s lower abdomen tightened. He reached behind him for his jacket, fumbling for the pill bottle.

“No? Are you scared? Huh?”

He kissed and whispered to Wooyoon, who just kept shaking his head. “Fuck, what do you mean no? You’re scared of me, aren’t you? I think you’re cute because you’re so dumb…”

Wooyoon whimpered and turned his head away, avoiding his kisses. Pilsung stared at him, his voice laced with frustration.

“Why are you scared of me?”

“…….”

“My face? Fuck, what am I supposed to do, I was born this way.”

He shifted on the sofa, expressing his frustration. Wooyoon mumbled something.

“…A-Alpha… my… my brother said… Alphas…”

He couldn’t hear clearly, but he knew what Wooyoon was trying to say.

“Haah, I’m not an Alpha.”

He gave up on finding the pill bottle and kissed Wooyoon, nipping at his soft lips. “If I were an Alpha, fuck, I’d be half-crazy from your scent right now. Would I be begging you like this? I’m not an Alpha, so don’t be scared. I’ll just kiss you gently…”

His voice was pleading, desperate. He’d never begged anyone like this before. Usually, he’d make them pay for their disrespect.

He felt a growing frustration, separate from his physical arousal.

“I’ll find your brother, your dead Nam Heejai, for you, so stick your tongue out, fuck.”

Just as he said those words, Wooyoon’s head lolled back against the sofa. Pilsung shook him gently.

“…Hey.”

“…….”

“Fuck… hey. Hey.”

“…….”

He shook Wooyoon a few more times, then let him fall back onto the sofa, exasperated. After all that teasing, the kid had fallen asleep. He’d been so nice all day, suppressing his temper, buying him gifts, only to be met with cries of fear and pleas for mercy.

“The Nam brothers think they can fuck with Baek Pilsung.”

He stared at Wooyoon’s sleeping face, his mouth slightly open, then chuckled and adjusted his shirt, which had ridden up, exposing his chest. He stood up, his groin aching.

Leaning against his desk, waiting for his erection to subside, he replayed their encounter in his mind.

He’d been so obvious with his affection, so what had gone wrong? Why did Wooyoon keep begging for his life, no matter what he did?

He frowned. He could almost hear Gidong and his men laughing at him.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go, fuck.

His perfect plan—dinner, exchanging numbers, a chat about Nam Heejai at the café, matching phones, karaoke, and then sex—had failed miserably.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, glancing down at his still-prominent erection. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the image of Wooyoon sleeping on his sofa, and continued his self-reflection.

It’s definitely my face. I look like an Alpha. That’s why Nam Wooyoon is so terrified of him.

He closed his eyes and pulled down the corners of his eyes with his index fingers.

“Haah, fuck, do I really have to do this?”

He released his eyes and squinted at the sofa.

“…….”

“…….”

Wooyoon’s sleeping face looked incredibly dumb. His breathing, heavy with alcohol, filled the office. Pilsung’s resolve weakened again. He was the one who’d fallen first, after all.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck, embarrassed, then straightened up.

He’d take Wooyoon out for hangover soup in the morning and try again. He’d probably been too hasty today, his arousal clouding his judgment. Wooyoon would be less scared once he got to know him better.

Leaving Wooyoon on the sofa, he put on his jacket and started planning their next date.

He’d take Wooyoon to his workshop to show him that he wasn’t just some thug, but a gangster with a legitimate business. He’d explain that he wasn’t after Nam Heejai for the money, but for lying to him.

Once Wooyoon understood that Baek Pilsung was a man of means and generosity, they’d drive to Wolmido Island in Incheon. He’d drive himself this time, without Gidong. They’d have grilled clams and soju for dinner, then take a ferry ride after dark, finish the kiss they’d started, and then… have sex in his car by the docks.

As he finalized his ambitious dating plan, he reminded himself of one crucial detail. For any of this to happen, he needed to look less… intimidating.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror on the wall as he walked down the stairs.

“Fucking hell, I look too much like my father.”

He clicked his tongue and stepped out into the pouring rain.