One Day, A Gangster… Chapter 3.1

Dawn was breaking. Wooyoon clutched his throbbing head and sat up. Ignoring the wave of thirst that washed over him, he frantically scanned the unfamiliar office. He abruptly stood from the leather sofa, steeped in the smell of cigarettes, and approached the desk. His eyes landed on a nameplate reading ‘Director Baek Pilsung’. Wooyoon rubbed his lips with the back of his hand.

He didn’t know the thug’s name. But the moment he saw the name, he was certain it belonged to the thug. And he remembered the lips that had relentlessly pressed against his own last night.

The thug had definitely been trying to undress him and cut him open. The kissing was probably just a bit of fun before the organ harvesting. It was the kind of trashy thing you often saw in books and movies, easily imaginable even without much creativity.

Wooyoon shoved his feet into his worn-out sneakers, which were lying on the floor, and burst out of the office into the hallway. He started down the stairs, but froze, hearing men’s voices from below. Panicked, he ran upstairs and hid behind a stack of boxes on the landing.

One of the two voices belonged to the thug who had dragged him around and tormented him yesterday.

“Hey, am I okay?”

Pilsung, climbing the stairs, stopped as he reached the office hallway and nudged Gidong’s chest. Gidong, eyes half-lidded, looked suspiciously at Pilsung, who was wearing dark sunglasses.

“Why the sunglasses so early in the morning?”

“Just answer the question.”

Pilsung fiddled with the sunglasses perched on his nose, glancing at the office door at the end of the hallway. The door was still quietly closed, just as he had left it last night. He needed to wake Wooyoon up and get him some hangover soup. Oblivious to Pilsung’s urgency, Gidong kept nagging him about not spreading his stye.

“Ah, whatever, whatever.”

Pilsung shoved Gidong aside and strode down the hall with one hand in his pocket. Gidong grumbled and followed.

Hearing their footsteps fade away, Wooyoon forced his trembling legs to move and awkwardly descended the stairs. His heart pounded, and his back felt hot with sweat. He hesitated in front of the hallway, then, as a murmur of voices erupted from beyond the closed office door, he bolted down the stairs.

As he exited the building, the men gathered under the eaves, smoking cigarettes, stared blankly at his sudden appearance.

“Should we grab him?”

“I don’t know. The boss didn’t say anything about that.”

Wooyoon squeezed past the bewildered men and started running down the rain-slicked alley. His head, still throbbing from the hangover, pounded with every step, and his vision swam, but he couldn’t stop.

If they catch me, I’m dead. This time, I’ll really be gutted.

Splashing through puddles, Wooyoon reached the main road and lunged at a city bus waiting at a red light, frantically banging on the front door.

“Please open the door! Please!”

He desperately hammered on the door, too frantic to care whether his pheromones were detectable or not. Soaked to the bone, he glanced between the still-red traffic light and the alley he had just escaped, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tears welling up, Wooyoon clasped his hands together and pleaded.

“Please… mister….”

The rain obscured his vision, preventing him from seeing the bus driver’s expression or the gazes of the other passengers. He could only plead.

The bus doors slowly opened. His racing heart finally slowed. Wiping his wet face with his hands, Wooyoon climbed aboard, enduring the driver’s curses.

Throughout the bus ride, he worried about his pheromones, but the smell of alcohol was far more pungent. One of the passengers openly glared at Wooyoon for reeking of alcohol so early in the morning.

He paid the fare with the money he had brought to the crematorium and, unable to bear the passengers’ stares, got off two stops before his own. Trudging through the rain, he finally reached his familiar gate. Relieved to be home, he collapsed on the spot, his legs giving way.

“Haaa….”

Sitting in the rain, Wooyoon clutched his wet hair in his hands and sighed. Now that he had escaped the shadow of death, the forgotten hangover returned with a vengeance. The power of his first experience with alcohol was overwhelming. Despite the rain, the heat wouldn’t leave his face, and the heartburn and throbbing headache were unbearable.

Everything had fallen apart since his brother’s death. How had his brother managed to endure this cruel world all alone?

Guilt and sorrow overwhelmed him. He sat there, alone in the alley, letting out the sobs he usually suppressed. The rain would mask the sound, wouldn’t it? Maybe he could cry a little louder.

“Huu…!”

He felt pathetic. He had abandoned his brother’s body to the flames, hadn’t even held his urn properly, and had spent the entire day being dragged around by a thug. He felt a pang of guilt, like he had abandoned his brother once again, caught up in the whims of the thug who had forced him to drink, laughed at him, and then turned on him in unpredictable fits of anger.

As he sat there in the rain, wiping away his tears, the rusty iron gate screeched open. A harsh voice followed.

“Damn it! Why are you sitting in front of someone else’s house like a beggar? How unlucky!”

Wooyoon wiped his runny nose with his sleeve and quickly stood up.

The man in the shower slippers, holding a plastic umbrella, was his landlord. His face was flushed, as if he, too, had overindulged last night. His voice cut through the rain.

“When is your brother, who said he went to earn money, coming back? Is he even coming back?”

“…….”

“Ugh, you damn gold diggers. Do you think you can swindle people with your pretty-boy face and sweet talk? Do you think anyone will fall for it?”

Wooyoon mumbled softly to the landlord, who was accusing him of scheming, something he had never done.

“It’s… not rent day yet….”

The landlord, who had somehow heard him over the rain, roared.

“Who doesn’t know that? Just don’t ever try to pull that gold-digger crap on me, Oh Choongman!”

“Yes……”

Wooyoon bowed his head to the shouting landlord and descended the stairs to his basement apartment. He hurried, but the landlord’s disgruntled voice pursued him.

“Looking like an omega gold digger! How unlucky!”

Startled by the mention of his secondary gender, Wooyoon glanced back up the stairs, then quickly fumbled with his door, his hands shaking.

He locked the door behind him. He wanted to dive under the covers without even drying himself, just like the day he ran away from the funeral home, but he changed his mind. He opened the closet door and climbed inside.

The closet was damp, hot, and smelled. But so did he. In fact, so did the entire room. Crouching in the cramped closet, Wooyoon took a deep breath and pressed his face against the slightly ajar door, watching the small window that offered a glimpse of the world above.

The thug would definitely come looking for him, just like last time. Should he run away now? But where to? And with what money…?

Rainwater trickled down Wooyoon’s cheek and hung precariously from his chin.

He had to run away. If he was caught this time, he might really die.

A vibration echoed in the cramped closet. Wooyoon pulled his phone from his damp shorts pocket. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen of the phone he had inherited from his brother.

Could it be the thug? He had lied and said he didn’t have a phone. How could he know this number?

He rejected the call and returned to peering through the crack in the closet door. Suddenly, the window across from him slid open with a rattle. Along with the sound of the heavy rain, a voice boomed through the room, calling his name.

“Nam Wooyoon!!”

He could see the lower half of a crouched figure beyond the window. A gold ring gleamed on the left hand dangling between the shamelessly spread thighs. There was no light to reflect off the ring in the gloomy weather, yet it shone brightly, like the eye of a viper.

A snake that would bite him and kill him.

“The… the thug… is here….”

He closed his eyes and buried his head deeper into the closet, his breathing quickening.

“Damn it, I know you’re in there. Come out before I count to three.”

Wooyoon squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears.

“One!”

“Uuu….”

“Two!”

“Hoo, hoo, hoo.”

“Three!”

Only the sound of rain followed. Trembling, Wooyoon pressed his hands harder against his ears. Should he go out now? Would the thug spare him if he begged? His resolve wavered, but he held on, clinging to the hope that this might be his last chance.

He would run away tonight, so he had to endure the fear now….

“…Three and a half. Three and a half and a half.”

“…….”

“Damn it, if I get to four, you’re dead. Three and a half and a half and a half.”

Pilsung, crouching awkwardly at the barely visible basement window, bit his lip.

“Haa, damn it…. I need to feed him this….”

He clutched the container of hangover soup to his chest, his shoulder soaked because he couldn’t properly hold his umbrella. He focused all his attention on the single room.

“Why the hell are the Nam brothers so good at running away?”

“Pfft.”

Pilsung, peering through the window, heard the mocking laugh and whipped around to glare at Gidong. Even with the sunglasses, the murderous intent in his eyes was palpable. Gidong, straightening Pilsung’s lopsided umbrella, looked away.

“He’s not coming out. Let’s just go. I’ll keep it a secret that you got dumped, hyungnim. Although, I think the rumor’s already out.”

“Who got dumped, you bastard? Hey! Nam Wooyoon! Are you coming out or not?”

The room remained silent. Pilsung stood up abruptly and stomped down the stairs, fuming.

Last night, Wooyoon had definitely been the one to nibble and suck on his lips. Gidong had no idea how much Wooyoon had enjoyed it, like he was savoring something delicious. Relationships were private. How could someone like Choi Gidong, who had never even come close to having a relationship, understand?

“Damn it, Choi Gidong. You know nothing.”

He hadn’t managed to have sex with Nam Wooyoon because the idiot had fallen asleep, but there had definitely been various signals between Baek Pilsung and Nam Wooyoon.

So, if today’s planned date went well, Nam Wooyoon would definitely fall for him.

Breathing heavily, Pilsung reached the door and gently placed the hangover soup on the ground. Then, he raised his long leg and kicked the dilapidated door handle with all his might. The handle snapped off, and the door caved in.

He tossed his closed umbrella near the shoe rack and stepped inside, shoes and all, stretching his neck and muttering.

“Wow, I finally made it in….”

With his hands on his hips, Pilsung turned, surveying the cramped room. The basement room was dim, with little sunlight filtering through the gloomy weather. He had already gleaned from peeking through the window that the furnishings were sparse, but the reality was even worse than he’d expected. A sigh of pity escaped his lips.

“Oh dear….”

The basement room, with its palm-sized window as the only connection to the outside world, reeked of mildew from the blackened wallpaper. It hardly seemed habitable. Only the furniture—a chest of drawers beneath the window and a wardrobe against the opposite wall—suggested that someone lived there. Without a desk or bookshelf, dog-eared middle school textbooks and novels were piled haphazardly in every corner.

Pilsung surveyed the room, which barely seemed big enough for him to lie down in with his legs outstretched, and then pushed his sunglasses up with his middle finger and approached the wardrobe. He lightly tapped the door, which was open a crack.

“Sir, come out. You’ll suffocate in there in this weather.”

“…….”

“Damn it, Mr. Nam?”

Only after he swore did the wardrobe door creak open. Pilsung silently looked down at Wooyoon, huddled inside, soaked to the bone.

“I’m sorry…. Please… spare me….”

“Ah! Shit!”

Wooyoon flinched at the harsh curse. Pilsung leaned closer, his sunglasses-clad face inches from Wooyoon’s, who kept shrinking back despite having nowhere left to retreat. Pilsung poked his head inside the wardrobe and whispered.

“Are you scared of me?”

“…….”

“Damn it, answer me!”

“Yes, I’m… scared.”

“Oh, for… ”

Pilsung’s brow furrowed. So it wasn’t the eyes. What was he supposed to do if Wooyoon was still scared even after he’d put on sunglasses? Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Pilsung briefly regretted not bringing a mask.

But he’d have to take it off to kiss anyway. So it would be pointless.

Still bent over, his face close to Wooyoon’s, Pilsung grabbed the younger man’s wet, white forearm and pulled him out of the wardrobe.

“…….”

Dragged out of the closet, Wooyoon nervously glanced at Pilsung, his face flushed. He was definitely dead now. That was the only thought in his head. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit him. Wooyoon clutched his damp shirt and groaned softly.

“You…”

Pilsung stopped mid-sentence. Why hadn’t Wooyoon waited for him in the office after waking up? Why had he gotten drenched and holed up in this smelly house? If he had waited, Pilsung would have brought him warm hangover soup and new clothes.

“Take it off.”

Pilsung wanted to get rid of the clothes that only emphasized Wooyoon’s pitiful state. The rain-soaked, threadbare t-shirt was an eyesore. And what if he caught a summer cold? He couldn’t take Wooyoon to a hospital since he wasn’t registered.

“Hurry up and take it off.”

At his repeated command, Wooyoon blinked his wide, downcast eyes.

“Yes…?”

“Take everything off, down to your underwear.”

“Ah… but…, hoo…. Really… can’t you not do this?”

“What? Ah, whatever. We have a lot to do today, so stop talking and get undressed and washed.”

“…….”

Faced with Pilsung’s unwavering resolve, Wooyoon squeezed the hem of his shirt and closed his eyes tightly. His suspicions were confirmed. The thug was going to toy with him before taking his organs. Although his memory of last night was hazy from the alcohol, he clearly remembered the thug forcing a kiss on him and groping him.

Pilsung glanced at his watch, calculating the boarding time for the Wolmido ferry he had pre-booked, and urged Wooyoon, who was still hesitantly clutching his shirt.

“Damn it, I don’t have patience.”

Wooyoon finally started to slowly pull his shirt over his head. With every twist of his torso as he struggled with the wet fabric, his ribs were visible beneath his thin skin. When both of his small nipples were exposed, Pilsung involuntarily licked his lips. The tiny buds looked delectable.

Lost in thought as he swallowed repeatedly, Pilsung suddenly yelled as Wooyoon pulled down his elastic waistband.

“Hey! Really! Damn it!”

Pilsung stole glances as Wooyoon’s rolled-down, wet underwear barely covered the top of his penis.

“Who the hell told you to undress like that? Why are you stupidly flashing your dick everywhere?”

It wasn’t something someone who was planning to use him as a plaything should say. Something seemed to have offended the thug. Wooyoon blinked his large eyes and spoke hesitantly.

“Sor…ry…?”

Unsure if he should apologize, he trailed off, and a thunderous shout erupted.

“What are you standing there for? Doesn’t this dump have a bathroom? Go in there and take them off!”

After yelling at the top of his lungs, Pilsung left Wooyoon standing there, half-undressed, and stormed out of the room, panting. His cheeks were flushed beneath his sunglasses.

“Damn it…. What did that whore, Nam Heejai, teach him……”

Pilsung paced in front of the broken door, agitated, and then picked up the hangover soup he had left on the ground. But no matter how much he inhaled the aroma of the soup to calm himself, his racing heart wouldn’t settle. It was a good thing he was wearing sunglasses. If he had seen it with his own eyes, he would have lost control.

As he clutched the soup container with one arm and rubbed his chest with the other, he heard a sound behind him. He glanced back and saw Wooyoon, still shirtless, clutching a change of clothes and hesitantly looking at him.

“…….”

“…….”

They stared at each other, each holding their respective burdens of soup and clothes. Pilsung scanned Wooyoon’s pale shoulders and arms and barked.

“Damn it, move faster! We don’t have time!”

Wooyoon, his eyes downcast and his expression mournful, shuffled into the bathroom attached to the single room. His slow, hesitant steps made it look like he was being led to a slaughterhouse.

The bathroom door creaked shut, and soon the sound of running water filled the air. Moans of “Ooh, cold…” mingled with the splashing sounds. Pilsung glanced at the door and pulled a pill bottle from his inside jacket pocket.

He savagely ripped off the stubborn lid with his teeth and dry-swallowed two pills. He stood there for a few minutes, fuming.

After a while, Wooyoon emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his towel-dried hair, and faced Pilsung, who was still standing there, holding the food container. He had apparently been guarding the bathroom door, probably thinking Wooyoon would try to escape again.

Wooyoon fidgeted with his hands clasped in front of his stomach. He couldn’t read the thug’s expression behind the sunglasses, but his stance seemed resolute, and it frightened him.

What was he thinking? What was he planning to do…?

“…….”

“…….”

Pilsung silently watched Wooyoon for a moment, then beckoned him inside with a flick of his wrist. The gold ring flashed.

“Sit.”

Wooyoon obediently knelt where Pilsung pointed. Pilsung pushed his sunglasses up his nose and asked.

“Is that all you have to wear?”

Wooyoon glanced down at his t-shirt, which featured a large photo and the words ‘Yongpyong Strawberry Farm’ printed across the chest.

“My brother… got it when he worked there….”

“Whatever. Just eat this for now.”

Pilsung slid the hangover soup towards Wooyoon.

“Eat it all, even the broth. If you leave any, I’ll cut your stomach open and pour it in.”

At the terrifying threat, Wooyoon quickly picked up a spoon and shovelled the hot soup into his mouth. Pilsung watched him with satisfaction, then waved his hand dismissively.

“Hey, hey. Sit comfortably and eat.”

Wooyoon, his cheeks bulging with food, shifted from kneeling to sitting cross-legged. Pilsung mirrored the posture, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his hands.

“Eat slowly. You’ll choke to death.”

“…….”

“…….”

Pilsung idly watched Wooyoon, whose face was practically buried in the bowl. His gaze drifted to the loose shorts and the exposed thighs revealed by the cross-legged position.

“Damn….”

He muttered under his breath. Wooyoon, who had been inhaling the soup for dear life, lifted his head and cautiously glanced at Pilsung. Pilsung, who had been leering at Wooyoon from behind the safety of his sunglasses, quickly averted his gaze and coughed.

He cleared his throat a few more times before tentatively asking,

“Do you, uh, remember… kissing me yesterday?”

“Yes….”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“Huh?”

“Are we going to… date? What are you going to do?”

Wooyoon put down the bowl and wiped his broth-reddened lips with the back of his hand. He didn’t understand what the thug was talking about. He wanted to ask for clarification, but the thug’s face was flushed, as if he was about to explode with anger, so Wooyoon couldn’t bring himself to speak.

He continued to rub his innocent lips with the back of his hand and was about to say he didn’t know when a wave of nausea surged up his throat. Clamping a hand over his mouth, Wooyoon crawled towards the wardrobe, unable to reach the bathroom. He buried his head in the corner where the wall met the wardrobe and retched.

“Ugh! Uurp!”

Nothing came out. He groaned, clear saliva dripping between his fingers. Pilsung, who had been watching him with amusement, chuckled and said,

“Did I get you pregnant with just a kiss?”

Wooyoon, clutching his chest in discomfort, glared at Pilsung. The thug’s smirk was infuriating. The awful hangover, his first ever, spurred him on. He wanted to yell at Pilsung to leave, tell him he couldn’t repay his brother’s debt, that he wouldn’t be his plaything, and that he didn’t understand why the thug was suddenly asking him to date.

“Ugh, ugh.”

Wooyoon gritted his teeth and groaned, desperately recalling his brother’s advice to endure when he had nothing.

Pilsung, who had been smirking at Wooyoon from a distance, finally wiped the smile off his face and sat up straight when he saw the younger man’s glare. He had meant it as a joke, considering Wooyoon’s pride might be hurt by suffering a hangover after just one night of drinking. But it seemed Wooyoon hadn’t taken it well. Thugs considered showing weakness the ultimate shame. That’s why, when a comrade made a teasing remark, they would retort with an even harsher one to flaunt their resilience.

He had meant well, but since Wooyoon clearly hated it, trembling with his eyes wide, Pilsung decided to drop the jokes. He shuffled closer to Wooyoon on his backside.

“Hey… are you feeling really bad?”

“I’m sick….”

“Where do you hurt?”

“My… my stomach….”

“Where in your stomach? Here?”

Pilsung slipped his hand inside Wooyoon’s distasteful strawberry farm t-shirt and felt his thin stomach. He trapped Wooyoon between his legs as he tried to pull away and gently rubbed his solar plexus with his thick palm.

“This doesn’t seem like a hangover. It’s more like indigestion.”

“…Don’t… touch me….”

“You said you were sick, damn it.”

“…….”

Wooyoon clamped his mouth shut. Pilsung’s touch, circling his solar plexus and subtly brushing against his chest, made him uncomfortable.

“It’s… because my hands are big. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He quickly explained himself, as if he was the one feeling guilty, even though Wooyoon had only flinched. Pilsung darted his eyes around behind his sunglasses.

“Does it still hurt? It’s time to cut your stomach open…. No, wait. Let’s do it.”

Pilsung pulled something from his waistband. As he deftly flicked open the blade of his switchblade, Wooyoon screamed, his face pale.

“Aaah!”

“Ah! Shit! Why! Why!”

Startled by Wooyoon’s terrified reaction, Pilsung yelled almost simultaneously and twisted around, scanning his surroundings. He forgot all about Wooyoon’s indigestion and brandished the knife defensively. Wooyoon’s place was the kind of place where fist-sized cockroaches, or maybe even black rats, could appear out of nowhere.

Half-standing, knife in hand, Pilsung pushed his sunglasses up with his middle finger and asked Wooyoon warily,

“What? What did you see?”

“Help me! Help me!”

“Ah, damn it, what is it! Where is it?”

“I’ll pay you back. I really will, somehow.”

“What?”

Pilsung, who had been spinning around defensively, stared blankly at Wooyoon. Wooyoon crawled towards him and clung to his leg, tears streaming down his face.

“Please spare me. I don’t want to get on a boat. If it’s going somewhere weird… Sob….”

“No, hey. Hello? That’s not what I meant….”

“I don’t… I don’t want to die yet. I don’t want to die.”

Pilsung stared in disbelief at Wooyoon, who was rubbing his tear-stained face against his pants, begging for his life.

“Hey.”

Pilsung pushed Wooyoon’s head away with one hand and crouched down. He asked the sobbing Wooyoon in a low voice,

“Did you forget everything except kissing me yesterday?”

Wooyoon didn’t answer, just continued to cry.

“Do you remember me saying I’m not an alpha and I’m not a scary person?”

“You’re… not an alpha?”

“Damn it,” Pilsung cursed and stabbed the knife into the floor. The switchblade stood upright. Looking at Wooyoon, whose eyes and lips were screwed up in fear at the sight of the gleaming blade, Pilsung said warningly,

“My name is Baek Pilsung, and I’m not a fucking alpha asshole, I’m just a fucking thug, and I won’t kill you even if you don’t beg for your life, and I’ll get the money your brother borrowed from your brother, and.”

Pilsung placed a hand on the handle of the knife and lowered his head, biting his lip. He hesitated, shaking his head slightly. Wooyoon, looking back and forth between the gleaming gold ring and the thug’s shoes, was preoccupied with the thought of how Pilsung planned to get money from his dead brother.

After a moment of hesitation, Pilsung looked up at Wooyoon with determination. Wooyoon blinked at his own reflection in the dark lenses of Pilsung’s sunglasses. As a tear trickled down Wooyoon’s cheek, Pilsung confessed,

“I like you. Let’s date.”

“….Huh?”

“I’m saying I want to be your boyfriend. Why, don’t you like it?”

His nostrils flared menacingly beneath his sunglasses, as if he wouldn’t tolerate any objection. Wooyoon gulped involuntarily, lowered his head, and mumbled,

“What… what happens if I say no…?”

Pilsung scratched his nose at the unexpected question. He couldn’t tell Wooyoon that if he was rejected, he would be ridiculed by Gidong and the others, and that he would be tormented by Wooyoon’s stupid face. It wouldn’t befit his pride as the top thug who ruled most of Seoul. It would be uncool.

Glancing at Wooyoon’s fingers nervously tugging at the hem of his strawberry farm t-shirt, Pilsung pulled the switchblade from the floor. He raised his dark eyebrows above his sunglasses and said,

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“……!”

Wooyoon’s downcast eyes widened. Seeing his eyes welling up again, Pilsung felt a pang of something in his chest. His dry lips, parched from tension, kept sticking to his teeth. He licked them as he stared at Wooyoon and pressed for an answer, tucking the switchblade back into his waistband.

“Answer me quickly. Will you be my boyfriend?”

“Thi…nk!”

“…….”

“Can’t… I think about it?”

Wooyoon’s voice trembled pathetically. Pilsung slapped his own forehead.

“Argh! Damn it!”

Whether this was the fabled “some” or “push and pull” or whatever the hell it was, Pilsung was terrible at playing hard to get.

Why was Wooyoon playing coy when they had already done everything? They had eaten, gone on a date, and kissed passionately. All that was left was to make it official and finish what they had started last night….

Pilsung, his forehead red from slapping himself, ripped off his sunglasses. Wooyoon flinched and recoiled at the sight of his fierce eyes. Pilsung stared at Wooyoon, then clicked his tongue.

Did Wooyoon have to try everything everyone else did? The thought made him chuckle. He remembered one of his men, the same age as Gidong, who would drunkenly lament about not having enjoyed his newlywed life properly before having a child. It was the same context. Nam Wooyoon probably wanted to experience the “some” and the “push and pull” before officially dating.

Now that the misunderstanding was cleared up, Wooyoon wouldn’t ask for time because he didn’t want to date. There had definitely been signals between them.

Pilsung wasn’t the type to be easily swayed by others, but Wooyoon’s appealing face made him surprisingly understanding. He didn’t mind being lenient with Wooyoon.

“I’ll give you three hours. I’m going to take a nap, so wake me up in three hours.”

Pilsung lay down, taking up most of the tiny room. He wiggled his still-shod feet and closed his eyes. Since the ferry trip was out of the question, he might as well sleep while Wooyoon enjoyed his “some” or “push and pull.”

He had been restless after leaving the sleeping Wooyoon at the office, so he had pulled an all-nighter at the workshop instead of sleeping. He should have been asleep by now, but he had missed his chance by rushing to the hangover soup place at dawn.

Fatigue and drowsiness washed over him. He yawned widely and quickly fell asleep.

“…….”

Wooyoon glanced at Pilsung, whose breathing had deepened, and then looked up at the window. Unfamiliar shoes paced back and forth in front of the rain-streaked glass. It was probably the man who had come with the thug.

Thugs everywhere… Could he escape…?

Wooyoon pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his knees, and lowered his head.

-I’m not a fucking alpha asshole, I’m just a fucking thug, and I won’t kill you even if you don’t beg for your life, and I’ll get the money your brother borrowed from your brother.

Whether Baek Pilsung was an alpha or not didn’t matter to him. According to TV, alphas and thugs were all the same. They were both threats to someone weak like him.

He won’t kill me? Easy to say. Would it be difficult for someone so reckless to go back on his word?

— I like you. Let’s date.

Wooyoon shuddered, recalling Pilsung’s offer. The thought of the thug wanting him was terrifying.

What should I do, hyung…?

“…….”

After trembling for a while, huddled up and calling out to his dead brother, Wooyoon slowly raised his head. He stared at Pilsung, who was fast asleep with his sunglasses resting on his broad chest. His gaze drifted to Pilsung’s waistband, to the switchblade tucked there. He bit his lip, staring at the knife, then shook his head with a groan.

He didn’t have the guts to fight back….

He just had to endure. That was the only way for a powerless, weak person to survive. He couldn’t go against the food chain. Acceptance and endurance were his only options. If he acted rashly…

As Wooyoon forced his gaze away from the knife, the man pacing outside tapped on the window and shouted.

“Hyungnim! Hyungnim!”

The man’s voice, muffled by the rain, was barely audible even to Wooyoon, who was awake. But Pilsung, a light sleeper, heard the call and sat up abruptly, looking around.

He blinked sleepily, then, as his eyes met Wooyoon’s pathetically drooping ones, he quickly reached for his sunglasses. He covered his fierce eyes and strode to the window, throwing it open.

“What the fu… Pffft!”

Pilsung was about to snap at Gidong when the rain sprayed his face, making him splutter and fall silent. Gidong, only his legs visible, reported urgently from outside.

“You need to come to the workshop now. There’s a problem with production.”

Gidong’s tone suggested it wasn’t a trivial matter. Pilsung closed the window and looked back at Wooyoon, who was huddled by the wardrobe. He wiped the rain-splattered sunglasses on his shirt and asked,

“So, have you made up your mind?”

Wooyoon blinked his large eyes at Pilsung, who was casually putting his sunglasses back on, and shook his head. Pilsung found Wooyoon’s behavior frustrating, yet endearing, and he couldn’t help but smile. How could someone with such a small head think quickly? Whether it was a car engine or a human brain, size mattered for power and efficiency. The fact that Wooyoon had run away twice and returned to hide in the same spot was proof enough of his limited brainpower.

Pilsung checked his watch and smoothed his hair, flattened from lying down.

“Something came up, so I have to go, and I don’t think I’ll have time this afternoon either, because of debt collection….”

He glanced at Wooyoon, who was still staring at him, and chuckled.

“I have a small business besides loan sharking… Well, actually, that’s the main goal of our office, and the loans are just for fun.”

Pilsung rubbed the tip of his nose, feeling awkward boasting about himself. Still, he had to make his point clear. Even though he had never dated, human interactions were all the same. Business and dating must have something in common. Whether it was business or romance, people were bound to be swayed by enticing offers.

This was the “blood of romance” flowing through Baek Pilsung. He was good at business, so romance should be a piece of cake. He was in a different league from forever-alones like Choi Gidong.

His voice took on a swaggering tone as his confidence grew.

“Thugs are busy people. In movies, they’re always gambling, drinking, and messing around, but who the hell came up with that bullshit?”

His joking remark was met with silence. Pilsung clicked his tongue awkwardly and pushed up his sunglasses, speaking to Wooyoon as gently as he could.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. Have your answer ready.”

Wooyoon cowered, unable to respond to Pilsung’s commanding tone. Then, Pilsung pulled something from his inside jacket pocket and offered it to him. It was the latest model cell phone he had bought yesterday.

“I found it under the sofa. Don’t ignore people’s sincerity.”

“I’m… sorry….”

Wooyoon’s trembling hand reached for the phone. Pilsung frowned at Wooyoon’s excessive apology for a minor scolding and offered a light farewell.

“See you tomorrow as lovers?”

“Uh, ugh.”

“Idiot….”

He chuckled at Wooyoon’s strange noises and turned away. He swaggered out of the room, the mildew smell clinging to his suit jacket. His cheerful whistling faded into the rain.

Wooyoon, left alone, waited until the whistling stopped and the unfamiliar shoes pacing in front of the window disappeared before dropping the new phone as if it had burned him. He rubbed his face frantically with his hands.

“Haa….”

He clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. Even though there was no one to hear him in the empty room, he pressed his palm against his lips and ran out. He stumbled into the bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet, shoving his fingers down his throat.

“Ugh! Urgh!”

Eyes squeezed shut, tears welling up, he gagged until he vomited everything the thug had forced him to eat. He retched until white foam came out, tears streaming down his cheeks.

The thug’s voice and expression, confessing his desire for him, flashed vividly in his mind, making his skin crawl. He wanted to erase every trace of the thug. He clutched his shirt, covering his chest and stomach where the thug’s hands had been, and turned to the faucet on the bathroom wall. He turned it on and plunged his head under the gushing water.

He was scared. Disgusted. He wanted the feeling of the thug’s touch to disappear.

He splashed himself with more icy water, washing his already clean body over and over.

After thirty minutes, his body trembled uncontrollably from the cold. His teeth chattered so hard he could barely hold his toothbrush. Staring at his pale, trembling reflection, Wooyoon made up his mind.

He had to escape, even if it meant being caught and killed again.

He crawled to the chest of drawers and pulled out fresh clothes. He forced his shivering body into the clothes and frantically searched the room. His numb hands fumbled clumsily.

There had to be a bankbook his brother had left behind. He didn’t know the password, but maybe the bank would help if he explained his situation? He would take the bankbook and finally escape properly. Anything was better than sitting here and waiting to be preyed upon.

He had nowhere to go, but he couldn’t become the thug’s plaything. He would go somewhere. Anywhere….

“Where are you going?”

An unfamiliar voice and approaching footsteps startled him. Wooyoon froze, unable to close the ransacked drawers, and blinked. The thin, high-pitched voice wasn’t Pilsung’s.

He gulped, his throat stiff with fear, and turned around. Three or four men, all with scarred faces and thick builds, had entered the room, kicking the broken door aside.

Had the thug sent them to watch him and prevent him from escaping? Wooyoon scanned their faces and stammered,

“Wh… who… are you…?”

The man in the lead crouched down in front of him. He was wearing a red silk shirt with a black tiger print. He smiled and readily introduced himself.

“Me? Nam Heejai’s sugar daddy.”

“……!”

“…Or so I thought, but I’m actually the victim who got scammed out of his money.”