Spark Chapter 1.4 - Spark

Go Baekwoo quietly gazed at Cha Hongjo, bathed in the blue dawn light seeping through the window. He held his breath, careful not to wake Cha Hongjo.

Like everyone else, Cha Hongjo slept with his eyes closed, lying down, breathing softly. Like everyone else, Cha Hongjo had two eyes, one nose, and one pair of lips. Cha Hongjo, just like everyone else…

Cha Hongjo was like everyone else, yet not the same. From the moment he entered Go Baekwoo’s life, Cha Hongjo was different. He seeped into Go Baekwoo at a unique pace. Cha Hongjo was unlike anything else. Why? Why was Cha Hongjo the only one different?

Go Baekwoo now knew the answer.

Because I like Cha Hongjo.

He hadn’t known at first. He mistook the blossoming feelings for Cha Hongjo, whose name and age he didn’t even know, as admiration. Though he’d never fully understood what true love was, all his romantic partners had been women. He’d never dreamed he could feel this way about a man.

It was as if he’d been fumbling with the shape of his feelings and suddenly his eyes were wide open. He’d never tried to deny his feelings for Cha Hongjo, but as of today, everything became certain.

I like Cha Hongjo.

Go Baekwoo flopped back down beside Cha Hongjo and turned to face him. The sleeping face was looking at him. He wished Cha Hongjo would open his eyes like this.

He fulfilled that wish, if only in his imagination.

Cha Hongjo lifts his eyelids and flashes his characteristic carefree smile with his handsome lips. His eyes, half-covered by his eyelids, curve slightly. His smiling lips draw closer. He calls out, “Pretty boy.” The hand that sometimes touched him carelessly cups his cheek. Cha Hongjo’s skin was sometimes cold, sometimes hot. So when Go Baekwoo touched Cha Hongjo, he froze or melted.

“Pretty boy.”

When he heard the hallucination of Cha Hongjo calling him again.

“Ah.”

The real Cha Hongjo opened his eyes. Just like in his imagination, he blinked his half-covered eyelids once, twice, three times.

“What are you doing…”

He asked in a low voice, rough with sleep. Go Baekwoo didn’t answer. He didn’t move. He just stared, as if the figure before him were a mere illusion.

“Not sleeping…”

“…”

“Ha, seriously…”

Cha Hongjo let out a scoff and smiled. Lighter than the smile in Go Baekwoo’s imagination. Then he reached out.

Am I still dreaming?

Go Baekwoo questioned the hand that rested on his cheek, its thumb stroking his cheekbone. Even though Cha Hongjo was never shy about touching him, this felt… different.

“Want hyung to give you a kiss?”

Go Baekwoo stayed silent, placing his fingers on Cha Hongjo’s wrist and rubbing the round wrist bone with his index finger.

Cha Hongjo didn’t press for an answer.

“So pretty… damn…”

He only mumbled to himself.

“Fucking pretty.”

Then he dropped his eyelids. Like he was under a spell, Cha Hongjo fell back into sleep in an instant. Go Baekwoo blinked twice. Whether his eyes were open or closed, Cha Hongjo remained in the same spot.

The hand that had been tickling the wrist bone slid down Cha Hongjo’s forearm. Go Baekwoo continued to fidget with Cha Hongjo’s elbow. Beneath the seemingly cautious touch lay a powerful desire.

Not a peck.

I want to kiss him.

🔥

“Baekwoo-ya.”

His mother’s voice came through. At the same time, knock knock. The sound was cautious, as if marking the distance between a mother and her son on the cusp of adulthood.

It was too faint to call it noise, but enough to pull him from sleep. His startled body jolted upright.

“…Just a sec.”

Go Baekwoo grabbed the scattered clothes and quickly threw them on. He draped a blanket over Cha Hongjo, who was still deep in sleep, wearing only underwear. And then…

Ah, the alcohol.

He was in a bind. He had no choice but to hide the state of the room until his mother left for work. Go Baekwoo ruffled the back of his head and stood at the door. Swallowing dryly, he opened it just enough to slip out and quickly stepped outside. Click. He closed the door and stood in front of it, as if guarding it. They’d washed up and slept after last night, but he worried his mother might catch some lingering smell.

“Your friend?”

Did she notice something or not? Go Baekwoo couldn’t read anything from his mother’s expression or tone. Then again, even if she had noticed, he probably wouldn’t hear much about it. His mother rarely scolded him. That’s why he wanted to hide his missteps even more. So she wouldn’t have to lie for him.

“He’s sleeping.”

“Want to wake your friend and come down to the shop together?”

“The shop?”

Go Baekwoo asked, glancing at the wall clock. Eleven in the morning. Too late for breakfast, too early for lunch.

“No, we’ll eat later…”

“Your uncle’s here.”

His mother’s eyebrows furrowed. A troubled expression. Or perhaps one apologetic toward her son.

“When?”

“Just now… He wants to have a meal together.”

A meal, damn… Go Baekwoo swallowed the words he couldn’t say in front of his mother.

“I’ll come down soon.”

“Alright. Anything you want to eat?”

Thinking of his uncle’s face killed not just his appetite but any desire for food.

“Anything’s fine.”

“Okay, come down?”

“Yeah.”

With her only son, she could be more demanding, but Go Baekwoo felt hurt seeing his mother tiptoe around him even now as she left through the front door.

“Ha…”

Uncle. Go Baekwoo rubbed his face roughly, thinking of the unwelcome man. Persistent bastard. Living worse than a bug, yet never disappearing, always showing up unannounced like this. He’ll probably shamelessly ask for money again. As if anyone has any… Money, damn…

When Go Baekwoo was nine, his father passed away, and ties with his paternal family were severed. His maternal grandparents had died before he was born, so in reality, his mother was his only family. Excluding the uncle he refused to acknowledge.

His uncle, Lee Taekjin, was irredeemable trash. When his mother brought money earned from breathing factory dust, claiming it was for school fees, that bastard supposedly squandered it all on booze. Still, as her only brother, his mother hadn’t given up hope. Someday he’d mature, someday… But contrary to Lee Heejin’s hopes, even now, with Go Baekwoo at nineteen, Lee Taekjin, well into his mid-thirties, hadn’t grown up.

Over a decade ago, he’d gotten into gambling. Whenever his pockets ran dry, he came to his sister, Lee Heejin. After raising her son alone, Lee Heejin had no means to support her brother too.

“Taekjin-ah, I’m really struggling…”

She’d pleaded with tears and gotten angry. But instead of maturing, her increasingly toxic brother eventually resorted to physical threats.

“Damn it, you’re my sister and you can’t even give me a million won!”

If only her husband were still here. Tears streamed between Lee Heejin’s tightly shut eyes. She felt the objects breaking in Taekjin’s hands were like her own life. A mess. Miserable.

In the end, she’d borrow money to fill her brother’s pockets. Otherwise, Taekjin would lie on the shop floor for three days, a week, causing a scene without stopping.

If she couldn’t open the shop, she couldn’t feed Baekwoo, who’d just started elementary school. Her own life could be tough, but her son’s couldn’t be. Without a father, her poor son…

Lee Heejin never saw her life as a sacrifice. The son she raised, cutting into her own flesh, had grown tall and become a sturdy wall for her.

It was when Go Baekwoo was sixteen.

“Hey, you bastard, grabbing your uncle by the throat? Let go! Let go!”

Lee Taekjin, who’d long squandered his youth, couldn’t withstand the grip of his nephew, now taller than him. When had the child, who used to hide behind his mother’s skirt wiping tears, grown this much?

A coward’s anger only flared at the weak.

Now, Lee Taekjin was wary of his nephew, who resembled his brother-in-law more than his sister. He couldn’t cut off contact since he needed money, but he no longer dared to make a scene like before.

“Last time, I paid back half, didn’t I, huh? Baekwoo-ya, cut your uncle some slack.”

He just tried to appease and charm his nephew.

Rumor had it this kid had caught the eye of some tough guys. Blood doesn’t lie, he thought. His sister probably hoped her only son wouldn’t take after that man, but for him, it wasn’t bad. If Baekwoo got into that world, he could someday use their blood ties to his advantage.

Now, how to handle today…

Lee Taekjin glanced at his sister, whose expression wasn’t great, and picked up his cup. He downed the hot coffee like it was cold water.

“No idea what people taste in this stuff.”

Grumbling, he set the cup down with a thud when he heard movement.

“…Oh, Baekwoo, you’re here!”

Lee Taekjin sprang up, waving warmly at his nephew, who seemed to have grown even taller since they last met.

“…”

Go Baekwoo gave a slight nod toward Lee Taekjin as a greeting. He held the door until Cha Hongjo, following behind, stepped forward.

🔥

Click, click… Go Baekwoo rolled the lighter’s wheel repeatedly, but the flame wouldn’t catch. Narrowing his already irritated brows, he tossed the empty lighter aside as if discarding it. He bit the filter deeply, but then.

A flame flared up, searing his vision. Go Baekwoo reflexively tilted his head and inhaled. The cigarette tip glowed. The weightless haze of smoke pressed down the anger rising in his chest.

“Ha…”

Exhaling smoke with a sigh, Go Baekwoo glanced at Cha Hongjo, who only lit his own cigarette after lighting Go Baekwoo’s. With his long, sharp eyes cast downward, Cha Hongjo’s expression betrayed no emotion. Was that a relief? He didn’t know.

He couldn’t leave Cha Hongjo alone at home, so they’d gone to the coffee shop together. The meal was uneventful, on the surface. His uncle hadn’t dared cause a scene today—or since Go Baekwoo had grown taller than him.

But it felt like a hidden edge had been exposed. Go Baekwoo was embarrassed in front of Cha Hongjo. His uncle, Lee Taekjin, was that kind of presence. Just sitting together was shameful.

“Maybe.”

The rooftop, where they’d come to smoke, absorbed the blazing sun, simmering with heat. Even the cigarette ember at his nose felt hot in this weather. It was summer, alright. Go Baekwoo flicked the butt to the ground and continued.

“Was it uncomfortable?”

At the abrupt question, Cha Hongjo met his eyes. Perhaps because of the sunlight, a reddish tint colored Cha Hongjo’s eyes.

“What.”

“Earlier.”

Cha Hongjo took a drag, exhaled the smoke, and answered.

“The food was good.”

That wasn’t about the taste of the meal. Go Baekwoo assumed Cha Hongjo was playing dumb.

“Is the shop doing well these days?”

“…It’s tough.”

“Tougher than my situation?”

“Taekjin-ah.”

“Sis, come on. Please.”

“…”

“…”

There’s no way Cha Hongjo hadn’t noticed the awkward air lingering at the table. Go Baekwoo was grateful that Cha Hongjo didn’t pry. He took Cha Hongjo’s silence as consideration, but.

“Then just five hundred thousand today.”

“I don’t have it, really…”

“You want your only brother to starve?”

Cha Hongjo simply thought that if he paid attention to every bastard out there, he’d die before his time.

“Why’s my sister so cold? Huh? Stingy over five hundred thousand…”

The guy the pretty boy called “uncle” had venom smeared on his face. His yellow eyes were revolting. So.

“Uncle.”

Unlike what he’d told Go Baekwoo, the meal hadn’t tasted good.

“Couldn’t you have just treated him to a meal?”

He didn’t know for sure, but he could tell the pretty boy’s family life wasn’t peaceful. That was all. Whatever circumstances or misfortunes others faced, it wasn’t his concern. Just as a bug caught in a spider’s web doesn’t worry about another’s life or death.

Cha Hongjo turned his back on Go Baekwoo, who was reading his mood, and walked to the bench. The slippers borrowed from the pretty boy were too big, flapping loosely.

Lying down on the bench, Cha Hongjo squinted at the blinding sky, then rolled onto his side, arm under his head. He curled his waist slightly. In his tilted view was the pretty boy. He was coming closer.

“Not hot?”

Go Baekwoo sat behind Cha Hongjo’s back. Leaning forward, he propped himself up, but the bench was so hot he asked about it. He pulled his hand away, afraid of burning. The vinyl covering the bench had stuck to his palm in that moment. It was sticky.

“Hot…”

Cha Hongjo’s voice melted, much like the heat. They’d drunk last night, done those things… He must be hungover and exhausted, yet he’d been woken early. On a day like this, eleven in the morning was practically dawn.

“Wanna go down?”

Go Baekwoo asked, his eyes drifting. Downward. To the curled back, the skin exposed by the lifted t-shirt, the prominent spine, and the hollow of the lower back.

Memories of last night, steeped in steamy heat, rose like a haze. Cha Hongjo, shamelessly rubbing himself against him…

“Go down?”

He asked again, almost pleadingly. Still no answer. Go Baekwoo fidgeted with the fingers resting between his thighs and shifted his gaze to Cha Hongjo’s face. To see the face buried in his shoulder, he had to lean forward slightly. Cha Hongjo’s eyes were closed. A cigarette still hung from his lips. The cigarette, burned to the end, had lost its ember.

“…”

Watching it, Go Baekwoo moved slowly. He reached out cautiously. Stealthily, he plucked the butt from Cha Hongjo’s lips. Cha Hongjo still didn’t open his eyes.

“Cha Hongjo.”

He waved his palm over the profile, where the sleek nose stood out.

“Sleeping?”

Is he asleep? Pretending not to notice him? Or just indifferent? Go Baekwoo flicked away the butt he’d held in his fingers belatedly.

“…”

He spread his palm, creating a shade over Cha Hongjo’s head. The weather was sweltering.

Chirrr—chirrr—. The cicadas cried. Loudly. While Cha Hongjo was sleeping…

🔥

Was it his nature to be so at ease? Cha Hongjo, staying at someone else’s house, showed no hint of discomfort. On the contrary, after the first night, he acted as comfortably as if it were his own home. He used the bathroom without asking, slipped his hand under his t-shirt to scratch his toned abs while rummaging through the fridge, and burrowed into Go Baekwoo’s blankets to sleep. He really slept like it was his job. The only one restless and agitated in the dark hours was Go Baekwoo. Even on nights they drank, it was no exception.

Five days of almost tedious peace passed. Lying side by side with Cha Hongjo, greeting the night and then the morning.

“…”

Crouching, Go Baekwoo stared blankly at the washbasin filled with cold water. Then he recalled something he’d forgotten for five days. His only true friend. Park Jungjin’s face.

“Ah… ha…”

The moment he thought of Park Jungjin, a sigh burst out. Go Baekwoo wiped his face with a hand untouched by water. He should’ve visited him in the hospital. He hadn’t thought of it even once. How?

That day, he hadn’t taken Park Jungjin’s side and had even tried to help Cha Hongjo escape. Not only that, he’d brought Cha Hongjo to his house and lived with him. He hadn’t shown his face once to Park Jungjin, who was hospitalized after Cha Hongjo’s attack. He hadn’t even considered it.

It was blatant betrayal. No excuse could justify it. Go Baekwoo splashed ice-cold water on his face as if punishing himself. The image of his friend, prickling like thorns in his mind, washed away, and Cha Hongjo came to mind. Cha Hongjo, sleeping in the next room.

He’d ended up weighing friendship against love. No, to call it weighing, he’d have needed to hesitate even briefly. Go Baekwoo’s actions, never once deliberating between Park Jungjin and Cha Hongjo, weren’t weighing but choosing. His feet carried him to Cha Hongjo, his hands reached for Cha Hongjo.

Go Baekwoo roughly wiped his wet face, draped a towel over his head, and stood before the mirror.

“…”

The reflection felt foreign. He covered the stranger’s face with his palm. Then slid his hand down. His expression crumbled.

Why does Cha Hongjo call me pretty? Looking like this, there wasn’t a single pretty thing about him. Go Baekwoo pulled the towel off his head. He brushed his short hair, which needed no styling, as if shaking it out.

…Should I grow my hair? Like Cha Hongjo.

Even after recognizing his betrayal, he couldn’t expel Cha Hongjo from his mind. Right now, to Go Baekwoo, wondering whether long hair would suit him felt more pressing than genuine self-reproach. He did think, like glancing at a single grain of rice in a scooped bowl, that he should visit Park Jungjin later.

“…Oh.”

He was imagining how Cha Hongjo might look at him with long hair when.

“You were here.”

Cha Hongjo flung open the bathroom door, muttering and rubbing his eyes. Sleep hung heavily on his eyelids.

“You up?”

“Yeah.”

“Washing up?”

“Yup.”

Muttering half-responses, Cha Hongjo stripped off his t-shirt in one swift motion. Then, yawning, he stretched his arms. The intricate movements of his muscles stood out on his bare torso. Go Baekwoo’s gaze traced the curve from Cha Hongjo’s Adam’s apple down to his chest.

“I’m gonna step out for a bit,” Go Baekwoo murmured.

Cha Hongjo lowered his outstretched arms, knelt in front of the washbasin, and sat back on his heels.

“Yeah,” he replied, as always, curtly.

Without sparing Go Baekwoo a glance, Cha Hongjo turned the faucet. Water gushed into the red basin. His still-sleepy, indifferent eyes fixed on it.

Go Baekwoo felt a pang of disappointment at Cha Hongjo’s reaction. They’d eaten and slept in the same room for five days. Wasn’t it natural to feel a little hurt when someone suddenly said they were going out alone?

“You okay staying here by yourself?” he asked, instead of voicing his complaint.

Cha Hongjo propped his elbow on his knee, rested his chin in his hand, and glanced up at Go Baekwoo with only his eyes.

“I’m not a kid.”

His gaze dropped back to the washbasin.

“I’m going out too.”

The basin was full. Cha Hongjo turned off the faucet.

“Where to?” Go Baekwoo asked.

“Yeah.”

Where?

He meant to press further, but Go Baekwoo quickly closed his lips.

They’d eaten and slept in the same room for five days, but that was it. Cha Hongjo and he weren’t friends or anything else. Sure, he could call them friends if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was better to stay at a distance where he couldn’t even ask where Cha Hongjo was going.

“Alright, wash up.”

Anyway, Cha Hongjo hadn’t asked where he was going either…

Even if he had, Go Baekwoo doubted he’d be honest. He was going to see Park Jungjin, of all people. That might make Cha Hongjo feel uneasy. Or maybe not. Cha Hongjo probably wouldn’t care who he met or what he did. He wouldn’t even be curious.

“…Damn.”

Back in the room, Go Baekwoo flung the t-shirt he’d picked out onto the floor. It was a tantrum. He was irritated. Why was he the only one who’d fallen for him? This emotional imbalance was always the other person’s burden, so it was unfamiliar to him.

🔥

Even when Park Jungjin, who’d stuck to him like a pair of socks, started nesting in “love” and stopped showing up, Go Baekwoo hadn’t felt much. But now.

On the way to the hospital where Park Jungjin was admitted, the summer grew hotter each day, but Go Baekwoo felt oddly lonely. A cool breeze seemed to wrap around his legs, holding his steps back. It urged him to turn around. Solitude claimed his left foot, regret his right.

Go back to Cha Hongjo…

“I’m going out too.”

“Where to?”

“Yeah.”

He should’ve asked where Cha Hongjo was going. The more he chewed over the morning, the sharper his regret grew. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t asked right away, just a few hours ago. His self-forged regret stabbed at his heart. He wanted to turn back and retrace his steps, to grab Cha Hongjo and demand where he was going. It wasn’t like Cha Hongjo was leaving forever, but his heart was frantic and anxious. Who knows? He might be going to meet Kim Hyesun. If so, he had to stop him…

“Baekwoo.”

…But even Park Jungjin, Kim Hyesun’s boyfriend, couldn’t stop their meeting. What right did he, who wasn’t anything to Cha Hongjo, have to interfere? People who don’t know their place look ridiculous. Pathetic. They become stubborn, trapped in delusional madness. One step. One more step from here, and he’d become that. Stop. Go Baekwoo muttered to his heart, which was racing ahead. Stop now.

“You came?”

“Yeah.”

Aside from the large bandage on his forehead, Park Jungjin looked healthy.

“How’s your body?”

It was a hospital visit, so he asked the appropriate question. Park Jungjin smirked.

“Just need to patch up my forehead. The rest of me’s fine.”

Boasting his vigor, Park Jungjin then wiped the smile from his face and raised his index and middle fingers to his lips. Asking for a cigarette. Go Baekwoo nodded toward the hospital room door.

“Let’s go out.”

“Hell yeah.”

Park Jungjin whistled, slipping on rubber slippers.

Searching for a secluded spot, they ended up behind the hospital. It was the garbage dump where the hospital’s waste was collected. The building’s shadow kept the sun at bay, making it feel like a different season. The atmosphere was damp, but better than smoking in the sweltering heat. Go Baekwoo handed a cigarette to the eager Park Jungjin before taking one for himself.

“Phew… Feels like I’m alive.”

Tilting his head back, Park Jungjin exhaled a long stream of smoke and muttered.

“So, Go Baekwoo, you bastard.”

Tapping off the ash, he turned to face Go Baekwoo head-on. Go Baekwoo, who’d been gazing into the air at an angle, shifted only his eyes to meet his.

“You’ve got something to say to me.”

“Yeah.”

No point hiding it when there was nothing to gain. Go Baekwoo turned his whole body to face Park Jungjin. And then, immediately.

“I’m sorry.”

He spoke the exact amount of emotion that rested in his heart, no more, no less.

Park Jungjin, bringing the cigarette to his lips, paused and raised his eyebrows with a sneer.

“Sorry for what?”

“For not telling you I knew Cha Hongjo.”

“Anything else?”

“There’s more.”

Park Jungjin, with whom he’d carved history in the alleyways since childhood. They were truly close, unguarded. And his feelings for Cha Hongjo had grown too large to conceal. He didn’t know what fueled their growth, but he knew they weren’t fully mature yet. They’d keep growing, consuming him. It was a vague prediction, but his certainty was clear.

And he’d remain friends with Park Jungjin. If it was bound to come out, better to reveal it first. He didn’t want to damage their trust any further. The stronger the bond, the easier it splits with even a tiny crack.

His heart, soaked in raw emotion, was rough. But his approach to it was clumsy. He needed time to sort it out. Not long. Just enough to burn through the half-remaining cigarette.

Finally, Go Baekwoo shaped his heart’s grain into words.

“I like Cha Hongjo.”

🔥

Tanjeon-dong was the neighborhood where Cha Hongjo lived from birth until his father’s death, before he was sent to his aunt and uncle. He scanned the familiar scenery with indifferent eyes. There used to be a payphone around here, he recalled, and soon found it.

The call would likely be short, given their strained relationship, so he inserted just a few coins. The number eluded him, so he rummaged through his memory for a moment before giving up and pulling out his pager. Checking the listed numbers, he pressed the buttons.

Tanjeon-dong was also where his aunt and uncle had settled with his father’s insurance money. They’d taken not just the money but his place too, as if telling Cha Hongjo not to even dwell on memories.

The call from his aunt and uncle, who hadn’t contacted him since the incident, came at dawn. A call before sunrise. Sleep took priority over responding to them. Cha Hongjo slept deeply. But upon waking to the glaring morning, a shitty feeling hit him like a blow to the back of his head. Sleep fled instantly. He’d felt this when his father died.

Like a bug seeking shelter under eaves before a downpour, people could sense an impending future. That’s why they believed in intangible, unexperienced fictions. Ghosts, the afterlife…

Waiting for his aunt or uncle to pick up, listening to the dial tone, thoughts of his father scratched at Cha Hongjo’s mind, leaving wounds.

Is he doing well? No, probably not. His father must’ve gone to hell.

“…”

No one answered. He’d expected as much. If they’d called so early, something must’ve happened. Cha Hongjo hung up. Clink, clink. The coins spilled out. He left the payphone booth without taking them.

In the end, he headed to his aunt and uncle’s house. He’d been there only once, but he didn’t get lost. He couldn’t. Their den was in the same alley as the house he’d lived in with his father.

The reason he’d gone to their house, worse than strangers, was a housewarming invitation.

They flaunted what they’d stolen in front of the one they’d taken it from. It was deceit. Their motive was obvious. They wanted their resentful nephew to despair and give up or self-destruct in rage. The more Cha Hongjo faltered, the more they gained. A chance to justify their theft. A chance to shamelessly maintain their ill-gotten comfort.

Entering the alley where their house stood, he quickened his pace.

It was the neighborhood of his childhood, teeming with familiar faces. Cha Hongjo didn’t want to run into people who remembered him and his father. He hated the cheap pity spun from rumors, the presumptuous concern predicting the bleak future of a fatherless only son.

Since his father’s death, people linked everything Cha Hongjo did to that loss. If he behaved, they said he’d matured early because he’d lost his father. If he strayed, it was because his father died. But no. They were all wrong. Cha Hongjo hadn’t changed before or after his father’s death. He’d always been mature for his age, always wandering outside.

Just a few steps from his aunt and uncle’s house, the blue gate swung open. Cha Hongjo sighed. The moment his eyes met Jang-ssi’s, he cursed inwardly.

“Oh my, Hongjo-ya.”

Jang-ssi was the neighborhood’s top gossip. Of all people… Cha Hongjo twisted his lips and nodded in greeting.

“What are you doing here? Why’d you come?”

Her words made Cha Hongjo scowl. Covering her mouth and stomping, Jang-ssi continued.

“You should be at the hospital!”

“The hospital?”

“Didn’t you know?”

He didn’t, and no one had told him, so he’d come here. Cha Hongjo stared at Jang-ssi, muttering “What to do” repeatedly, and slipped his hand into his pocket. His nails dug into the crumpled cigarette pack’s edge. He wanted a smoke.

“What to do, oh my…”

When would this woman stop with the useless talk…

“Your aunt’s family got taken away after breathing coal gas!”

His shoulders jolted. His fingers slipped from the cigarette pack.

“…When?”

“Early this morning! Didn’t you get a call?”

“Which hospital?”

“Tanjeon Hospital!”

“…”

Ah.

Cha Hongjo dropped his head on the spot.

“Go quick!”

Ahh…

“Hey, Hongjo-ya.”

He was dumbfounded.

“You okay? Hey!”

It was hard to hold back laughter.

🔥

The aunt he met again was uncharacteristically quiet, unlike herself. She’d never smiled at him in life, but now she couldn’t stop. Yet the room was filled with wails. The only ones smiling were his aunt and Cha Hongjo himself.

He placed a chrysanthemum on the pile and bowed. His movements were solemn, but his heart was utterly irreverent.

Should’ve lived better.

Cha Hongjo mocked his aunt’s predictable, pitiful death. He felt wronged, only able to sneer. He wanted to burst into laughter and set fire to the chrysanthemum pile. He imagined turning the solemn, somber funeral parlor into chaos. If ghosts could read minds, that’d be nice. With that wish, he made his imaginings even more horrific.

Die again after dying.

Lifting his bowed head, his eyes met his aunt’s in the funeral portrait. Cha Hongjo stopped his torrent of curses and wiped away his smile. It was over. The dead don’t return.

He stood. Though she’d been worse than a stranger to her nephew, she’d been kind to others, as the long line of mourners waiting their turn showed.

Where to go? A face flashed in his mind. The pretty boy, Go Baekwoo.

He’d only said he had to step out, not that he’d be gone for days. He hadn’t known it’d turn out like this. That’s why he shouldn’t make promises with anyone. Life was flat one moment, then threw up cliffs and steep hills the next.

Would he wait? For some reason, he felt the pretty boy, following him like a chick, might be waiting. Or maybe not. He and Go Baekwoo weren’t in a relationship where waiting mattered. Though it might be different for him.

“I don’t usually drink alone with guys, so why do I with you? Guess.”

Cha Hongjo knew Go Baekwoo liked him. That transparent face showed everything, impossible to ignore. At first, he thought Go Baekwoo was just some kid who’d decided to follow him, unremarkable except for his looks. Some people showed affection without specific reasons, so he figured it was like that.

“Because I’m… pretty.”

Whether it was naive admiration or affection, diving in without seeing the bottom.

“No way. What’s the point of being pretty if I can’t eat the rice cake?”

“Then why do you drink with me?”

“To take a bite anyway.”

“What if you get indigestion?”

“Chew and spit it out.”

Would a guy just give up his lower half without a word? That night, Cha Hongjo was certain. The pretty boy liked him.

In a world full of all kinds of people, it wasn’t shocking that a guy had sexual feelings for him. Especially with a face like that. With looks like those, it didn’t matter what was between his legs. Though he didn’t get to thrust and shake that night, it wasn’t bad. Good is good, right? Just coming satisfactorily was enough.

Anyway, the pretty boy would wait as much as he liked him. How much he’d pine wasn’t Cha Hongjo’s concern. He’d wag his tail whenever Cha Hongjo showed up, so no need to feed him. Too much hassle. Today, he’d meet a woman.

Having made his decision, Cha Hongjo looked for his shoes.

“There’s something to talk about.”

“Ah.”

“In the other room.”

But his uncle suddenly blocked his way, announcing it.

“Alright.”

He agreed for now. It’d likely be the last time he’d see his uncle anyway. His uncle probably knew that too. Curiosity stirred about what they’d discuss at the end of this sordid tie.

Because his uncle had to respond to each mourner, it took an absurdly long time to reach the room just a few steps away.

Thud. The closed door swallowed the noisy clamor. In the silence, Cha Hongjo stared at his uncle, still bearing the scars he’d left on his face, and lit a cigarette. His only blood relative, his aunt, was dead. His uncle was no different from a stranger.

“You bastard…”

No, definitely a stranger. No need to hold back.

“What do you want to say?”

Lighting up, Cha Hongjo exhaled smoke, cutting off his uncle’s words.

“You filthy bastard, what do you think this place is!”

“What is it…”

He should’ve been like this from the start.

“Damn it.”

If asked whether he’d lived under his aunt and uncle’s thumb, he’d shake his head, but it was true he’d shown them undue courtesy.

“I don’t want to be here either. Say what you gotta say quick, since we both hate this.”

“You bastard, still…!”

“If you’re gonna yap, I’m leaving.”

As his uncle raised his hand out of habit, Cha Hongjo flicked his cigarette forward. Ash scattered. A large piece landed at his uncle’s feet. The hand poised to strike him was withdrawn. The foolish uncle realized too late. Hitting a guy who was no longer a nephew or anything wouldn’t gain him anything.

“You and your dad, always making people sick.”

“Good thing you’re sick of me. I was scared you’d grab my pant leg.”

“Why would I grab a penniless orphan’s pants?”

“You lived off picking that orphan’s pockets, didn’t you?”

“You, you…!”

“Did breathing coal gas make you a moron? Speak clearly so I can understand.”

His uncle had been a moron even before the coal gas, so it wasn’t quite accurate.

Anything else to taunt him with? Cha Hongjo smirked at his flushed uncle. He sneered and mocked, but it wasn’t much fun.

“No more to say? I’m out.”

How many bills could he have made picking mulberry leaves by now, damn it. Cha Hongjo lowered the corners of his mouth and tossed the cigarette butt into a glass of water. He took a step.

“A fatherless bastard! I was gonna give you the tobacco shop out of pity…”

“…Ha.”

The words over his shoulder killed all his incredulity. Cha Hongjo whipped his head around, glaring at his uncle.

“Fuck off, asshole.”

He didn’t bother gauging his uncle’s reaction. Turning his head back, he left the room. Unlike usual, his quick steps headed not for the exit but toward his aunt’s funeral portrait. He grabbed a chrysanthemum. Before anyone noticed. He held a lighter under the bud and lit it. Flames leaped to the chrysanthemum. The white petals blackened and crumpled. What was no longer a flower was tossed onto the pile of chrysanthemums mourners had left.

“The f-flower!”

“Put out the fire!”

“What are you doing!”

His uncle rushed out, screaming, and lunged at him. Cha Hongjo grabbed his throat, threw him down, and kicked him. His uncle, struck in the waist, curled up, groaning. Someone grabbed Cha Hongjo’s back, trying to stop him. He shook them off and looked around. It was chaos. A scene somewhat like the one he’d imagined while bowing before the portrait. But his mood didn’t improve at all.

The funeral parlor was at Tanjeon Hospital, in Tanjeon-dong. Tanjeon-dong, where Cha Hongjo had lived from birth until a year and a half ago. A place crawling with familiar faces. How fortunate. He wouldn’t have to struggle to find someone to spend today with.

The emotion burning with a foul stench would not last long. Even while kicking up a storm, Cha Hongjo was already mentally listing potential partners to tumble with. Who was it that lived closest to here?

🔥

It was a dawn where blue air floated about. Cha Hongjo rose from his bed. He roughly rubbed his face, still heavy with sleep, and when he lowered his hands, his gaze fell upon a face still lost in slumber.

“…….”

For a fleeting moment, the face of Choi Jihye, lying beside him, seemed to belong to someone else. Cha Hongjo rubbed his face dryly once more. When he looked again, the face was no longer Go Baekwoo’s.

It had been nearly two months since he began drifting from one woman’s house to another in Tanjeondong. It had been three days since he ran into Choi Jihye, a neighborhood sister he had known since childhood, and started eating and sleeping at her place. In that time, summer had surged to its peak and then softened.

The sweltering heat, the faint breath of autumn beginning to touch the earth, the kind women, the cigarettes, the liquor—none of it was special. Nothing could change Cha Hongjo or quell his restlessness.

He should have killed his uncle.

That regret grew sharper with each passing day. If his aunt had died in winter, and that day had been cold, would his anger have simmered less fiercely? In the end, Cha Hongjo entertained such baseless hypotheticals. Nothing improved.

Since the women he stayed with granted his every desire, he never went hungry despite not working. If anything, his days were plentiful. Naturally, he fell into boredom. Idly, he began to dwell on the past. Sentimental foolishness was exactly the sort of thing he despised.

His childhood flickered vaguely, like a photograph submerged beneath the surface of water. In moments when his heart grew calm, it came into slightly sharper focus. Cha Hongjo brushed past the images forming in his mind without examining them closely, flipping through them as if discarding them—until he reached the day his father took his own life.

When he tried to recall more recent events, the first thing that came to mind, absurdly, was Go Baekwoo. A face so beautiful it could make the word “pretty” slip out unbidden, skin so transparent it seemed to reveal his very core. Yet, he was undeniably a man—broad-shouldered, tall. Blue veins stood out on his pale hands. Normally, such masculine traits would have dulled Cha Hongjo’s interest, prompting him to look elsewhere, but…

“Can I crash at your place?”

“Uh… sure.”

“If you don’t want me to, just say so.”

“It’s fine.”

“Really? Then why’s your face like that?”

“…….”

He was like a white ribbon caught on a tree branch. Something so trivial you’d try to ignore it, yet your eyes kept returning to it. Staring at him stole your senses. It must be because of his extraordinary appearance, capable of captivating anyone. Cha Hongjo couldn’t find any other reason.

Pretty was delicate, like the fluttering end of a ribbon in the breeze. Like a masterpiece of the century, capable of evoking awe even in someone who didn’t know the first thing about art. Every feature was meticulously crafted, not a single part carelessly drawn. His forehead and cheeks had the hue and shape of a finely carved peach. His sharp yet soft nose and lips, as if stained with flower petals, were unlike anything Cha Hongjo had ever seen. They were fantastical. If asked to sing praises of that face, he could honestly spend days and nights doing so.

In any case, what made the nickname “Pretty” so fitting for Go Baekwoo was his eyelashes. So lush and long, they seemed as if they’d flutter in the wind… Sometimes, when looking at Go Baekwoo, Cha Hongjo felt like a child who’d unexpectedly spotted a butterfly on the asphalt. It might fly away. He grew anxious. He wanted to touch it.

When it fluttered before his eyes, he wanted to seize it. Go Baekwoo had a way of stirring such feelings in people.

“What does it mean to blow smoke in someone’s face?”

“It means you’re picking a fight.”

That’s why, even after nearly two months without seeing him, Go Baekwoo lingered in his thoughts. With anyone else, Cha Hongjo would have forgotten in two days, but Go Baekwoo remained as vivid as if he’d seen him yesterday. It made sense—Cha Hongjo had never encountered anything as beautiful as Go Baekwoo before.

“You’ll be okay on your own?”

“I’m not a kid. I’m heading out too.”

“Where to?”

“Uh.”

“Alright, wash up.”

…Pretty’s probably crying.

Cha Hongjo thought of those brown eyes, always steeped in melancholy.

He had to go see him.

🔥

The season of tropical nights had passed. Now, the evenings were cool. Unlike the time when Cha Hongjo had been present.

That evening, Go Baekwoo stood in front of a teahouse, its lights still on, debating whether to enter before heading straight home. He was exhausted. He lacked even the energy to see his mother, whom he rarely saw except in the mornings despite living in the same house. It was because he’d spent the entire day searching for Cha Hongjo. It had been like that for two months.

No. In truth, he could probably run around for twenty-four hours without sleep, searching for Cha Hongjo. What was truly exhausted was not his body but his heart. Without changing his clothes, Go Baekwoo collapsed onto the floor and rubbed his dry face against the blanket. For the first week, Cha Hongjo’s scent and warmth had seemed to linger, but now they had evaporated entirely.

It had been nearly two months since he’d last seen even a single strand of Cha Hongjo’s hair. Go Baekwoo’s emotions stopped at a different station each day. At first, it was regret. Regret for not asking that morning where he was going or who he was meeting. Regret for letting Cha Hongjo wander alone, regardless of Park Jungjin or anyone else. Regret for recklessly confessing to a third party without realizing he was missing the real target…

“I like Cha Hongjo.”

If he had known there would only be one chance to confess, he wouldn’t have so casually spilled it to Park Jungjin. It hadn’t been a light confession, but the world and life didn’t care for such nuances. He should have been more cautious. He should have told Cha Hongjo first.

Cha Hongjo, I like you.

But even if he hadn’t said it, would Cha Hongjo really not have known?

After passing through regret, he reached an even more dreadful emotion. Anger and resentment.

He tried to console himself that he and Cha Hongjo were never anything to begin with, but hadn’t they touched skin to skin?

How could we be nothing, when we…

How could you vanish without a word…

With no one to confront or question, his emotions lingered unresolved, wandering aimlessly. And so, his heart roamed, and his steps in search of Cha Hongjo faltered each time.

Cha Hongjo, who had appeared in Go Baekwoo’s life one day, had vanished like a character exiting a film forever. Go Baekwoo had gone to every corner of Cha Hongjo’s neighborhood, searched, and asked around, but he found little of value. There were a few guys in Cheongdaego who knew Cha Hongjo, but most only remembered his name, or else…

“Cha Hongjo? Isn’t he, like, living at some woman’s place?”

“Finally shacked up, huh. You’re his friend? Don’t bother looking for him.”

“Women? Cha Hongjo’s hooked up with so many, who could name them all? Damn, that bastard’s got it good.”

They were fixated solely on Cha Hongjo’s exploits with women.

Cha Hongjo was Cha Hongjo, with scandals trailing his name like a tail, but Go Baekwoo was more irritated by the guys who got heated over who was sleeping with whom. Why the hell did they care so much about who Cha Hongjo was with…

Anyway, ask ten guys, and at least one woman’s name would come up. In total, he gathered twenty-six names—fewer than he’d expected. Grinding his teeth at the thought of encountering Cha Hongjo living with some woman, Go Baekwoo met all twenty-six. Among them were students his age, college students, a bank clerk, a hairdresser, a nurse, a nightclub singer, a rich man’s daughter, and even a rich man’s wife.

They varied in appearance, age, education, and background, but they shared one thing in common: they all missed Cha Hongjo. Just like Go Baekwoo himself.

But not everyone who missed Cha Hongjo went looking for him. In fact, most said, “I want to see Hongjo again, but I can’t go searching for him,” as if they’d given up. They didn’t seem sad. They weren’t angry. That was where they differed from Go Baekwoo.

And then, today. The last person he met was Kim Hyesun. It took some hesitation to meet her. While not on Cha Hongjo’s level, she was someone who’d gone through men like Park Jungjin and even made him dream of marriage. He worried he might run into Cha Hongjo at her place, that Cha Hongjo might be living with her. He was terrified that if he saw them together, he wouldn’t be able to leave them be. But he couldn’t ignore an obvious lead. In the end, Go Baekwoo went to Kim Hyesun, and Cha Hongjo wasn’t there. Instead, she asked him a question.

“Do you know where Hongjo is?”

“…….”

“I went to his shop, but he wasn’t there. It’s been closed lately, right?”

Go Baekwoo responded with a question of his own.

“Do you like Cha Hongjo?”

“Yeah, I like him.”

Kim Hyesun answered without a moment’s hesitation. In that moment, Go Baekwoo saw not her, but himself. His mouth filled with a bitter taste. His chest burned.

“Don’t like him.”

Go Baekwoo stood up as he spoke. Even to his own ears, it sounded like a command. No, it was a command.

“Why? Did Hongjo say something about me?”

“No. Cha Hongjo…”

Because I want to be the only one who likes him.

“Why would he talk about you?”

He knew Cha Hongjo didn’t give his affection to anyone. He also knew Cha Hongjo didn’t stop others from giving him theirs.

If he didn’t stop them, then maybe Go Baekwoo could make himself the only one who gave him affection. That way, he might become someone special to Cha Hongjo. With that assumption in mind, Go Baekwoo ordered Kim Hyesun not to like Cha Hongjo.

“It seemed like there was someone else.”

“Someone else? Who? Did Hongjo say something? That he likes someone, or is seeing someone?”

“I don’t know if he likes them.”

He acted spitefully on purpose…

“He called them ‘Pretty’…”

The path of emotions chasing Cha Hongjo.

“You’re not ‘Pretty,’ are you?”

The final stop was self-loathing.

🔥

Today was the 27th, collection day.

Cha Hongjo made Go Baekwoo feel dazed during the day, like a hallucinogen, and tormented him at night, like a stimulant, keeping him from sleep.

After another sleepless night, Go Baekwoo emerged from his bedding, clutching his temples. His head ached. But even if it wasn’t his head but his whole body that hurt, he had to go down to the shop.

Tae Pyeonghyeon visited the shop at 7:30 a.m. Go Baekwoo didn’t know the details, but apparently, he had a set route of shops he collected from each day. “Promise Teahouse” was on the schedule for the 27th at 7:30 a.m., always punctual.

Stepping into the living room, he glanced at the clock. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and it wasn’t even 6 a.m. yet. After two months of poor sleep, his condition was terrible, so he decided to take his time getting ready.

On collection day, the day before, and the day after, his mother also struggled to sleep. Go Baekwoo’s sleeplessness had a different cause, but still. His mother’s door was ajar about a hand’s width, and the room inside looked desolate.

He turned away from a space he didn’t need to inspect. Maybe he’d wash up first, he thought, heading toward the bathroom. Then, a sound came from the entrance. Footsteps climbing the stairs…

On collection days, dealing with those types made him especially tense. Lately, he was always on edge, and with his mother not in her room and no expected visitors at this early hour, his nerves tightened instantly. His brow furrowed deeply, and Go Baekwoo darted to the entrance.

He stood with only a wall between him and the unknown guest. He placed his hand on the doorknob. He’d count to three and open the door. If the face that appeared seemed suspicious, he’d throw a punch first. Even if it was violence born of a misunderstanding, that was his mindset now. Was it the accumulated anger? Even slight provocation led him to plan unnecessary defenses.

One… He began counting silently. Two… The presence outside the door lingered quietly. Three, he turned the knob.

When the door cracked open just wide enough for a finger, Go Baekwoo already knew who it was. He could tell from the slope of his shoulders. From just a few strands of hair fluttering in the dawn breeze…

How could I not recognize any part of him?

“Cha Hongjo.”

After all that searching.

“Pretty.”

Cha Hongjo, bathed in the blue and red twilight, leaned against the stair railing, straightened up, and smiled.

“Your big brother’s here.”

“Cha Hongjo, you…”

Unable to finish his sentence, Go Baekwoo didn’t give Cha Hongjo a chance to step forward. He rushed to him, wrapping his arms around Cha Hongjo’s body, which teetered precariously over the railing under his weight, and pulled him into his embrace. He pressed their chests together to keep him from slipping away again, entwining their legs to anchor him. Then, like a child on the verge of tears, he hunched over and dropped his head. He buried the tip of his nose in Cha Hongjo’s shoulder. The scent, now more familiar than the air itself, flooded his nostrils and seeped into his lungs. Only now could he breathe properly.

Where have you been?

He’d planned to ask and interrogate Cha Hongjo when he saw him.

But things didn’t go as planned. Every action was impulsive. Just like how Cha Hongjo appeared and disappeared from Go Baekwoo’s life on his own terms. Go Baekwoo rubbed his forehead once against Cha Hongjo’s straight shoulder, then lifted his head. Cha Hongjo raised his eyes to meet Go Baekwoo’s gaze. As their noses brushed, Cha Hongjo lowered his eyelids and gave a crooked smile.

“You bastard…”

Cha Hongjo covered Go Baekwoo’s hair, longer now after two months without a trim, with his palm. At the same time, he swallowed the smile.

“…….”

Pretty’s lips felt rougher than the last time they kissed. He must have been through some hardship. But his tongue was still soft, so it was fine. It tasted sweet. His skill with it was unchanged. Not bad. Coming here was the right call.

🔥

Ding-a-ling—.

As the door opened and the bell rang, Tae Pyeonghyeon set down the coffee cup he’d just lifted. A glance at the time showed exactly 7:30 a.m. Today, he’d arrived at Promise Teahouse a bit earlier than usual, and Go Baekwoo, as always, kept the appointment without being a minute late. Tae Pyeonghyeon didn’t know if he was this diligent in other matters, but he respected the punctuality shown on collection days. Few active gangsters or guys eyed by the organization were this reliable. Truly, the son of the “big boss”…

Cutting off his thoughts to avoid a slip of the tongue, Tae Pyeonghyeon murmured and waved at Go Baekwoo, who entered through the open door. Go Baekwoo silently nodded in greeting but stopped short of continuing forward, holding the door open. Tae Pyeonghyeon, curious about who Go Baekwoo—hardly the type to be overly polite even to him—was holding the door for, narrowed his eyes. Perhaps a woman?

But the figure who stepped into the teahouse, courtesy of Go Baekwoo, was a man. One just as striking as Go Baekwoo…

“Wait here a sec.”

Go Baekwoo offered the man a seat near the counter, even pulling out a chair for him. Tae Pyeonghyeon ordered a lackey standing nearby to fetch a cigarette and kept watching them.

“Want something to drink?”

“Water.”

Well, well… Tae Pyeonghyeon chewed on the cigarette he’d just lit. This guy, who’d scowl if Tae Pyeonghyeon jokingly asked for a coffee, was now voluntarily serving drinks.

“Taegu.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Know that face?”

Tae Pyeonghyeon whispered to the lackey bending toward him, nodding toward Cha Hongjo. Park Taegu immediately shook his head.

“First time seeing him.”

Then he craned his neck, openly sizing up Cha Hongjo.

Birds of a feather, huh? He was different from Go Baekwoo in vibe, but his looks stood out. Even from a distance, just seeing his profile, Tae Pyeonghyeon couldn’t tear his eyes away. The light streaming into the room seemed to focus solely on him, creating an illusion. He’d felt something similar the first time he saw Go Baekwoo.

His bold, sharply defined features were so striking they felt almost unreal. Like a carefully staged movie poster—or rather, even the most skilled artist would struggle to capture such a face. His broad forehead and flawless nose formed perfect harmony. His well-defined lips were just full enough, and unlike most men, they weren’t dark but a vivid red, as if painted with rouge. Maybe he was wearing it. Good-looking guys always seemed to rub him the wrong way. It sparked an inexplicable anger. And that cocky posture didn’t help. Park Taegu twisted his lips for no reason. Still, though it was definitely a first meeting, something felt oddly familiar.

“…Maybe I’ve seen him on TV. Should I go ask?”

“I’ll ask. Here he comes.”

Just then, the “irritating guy” received a glass of water from Go Baekwoo, who turned and headed their way. Tae Pyeonghyeon finally told Taegu to light his cigarette. Taegu, who’d been twitching his brows while glancing between Go Baekwoo and Cha Hongjo, pulled a lighter from his pocket and sparked it.

As soon as Go Baekwoo sat across from Tae Pyeonghyeon, he placed an envelope of money on the table.

“Take it.”

“Yes, boss.”

At other places, they’d check if the amount was correct first, but at Promise Teahouse, run by Go Baekwoo’s mother—who was soon to be “family”—they sometimes skipped that step. Park Taegu quickly unzipped the loan bag and tucked the envelope inside.

“Our boss Go’s looking sharper by a day.”

At Tae Pyeonghyeon’s opening remark, Go Baekwoo sighed inwardly. The sarcastic tone suggested something was bothering him.

“Got something to say?”

When asked directly, Tae Pyeonghyeon rolled his eyes and nodded toward Cha Hongjo. Go Baekwoo reflexively touched his forehead, then brushed back his short hair, which hadn’t even fallen.

“Friend of yours?”

Told him to stay home.

Go Baekwoo furrowed his brow and swallowed a sigh.

He’d meant to come to the teahouse alone. But when he told Cha Hongjo to stay at the house, some curiosity must have sparked, because Cha Hongjo insisted on coming along, and Go Baekwoo couldn’t dissuade him.

Reluctantly, he gritted his teeth and answered.

“Yeah.”

“If he’s your friend, he’s like my little brother. Gotta introduce him.”

“We’re not that close.”

“Bullshit, kid.”

This was trouble. Cha Hongjo was eye-catching, sure, but since he wasn’t a woman, Go Baekwoo had assumed Tae Pyeonghyeon wouldn’t pay him much attention. But unease never grew without reason. It wasn’t just possessiveness or protectiveness born of liking Cha Hongjo.

“I’m not gonna eat him. Just wanna get a look at his face, yeah?”

“…….”

The organization targeted two types of “talent.” First, guys known for throwing punches—muscle, essentially. Second, pretty faces. Like Cha Hongjo.

As the broadcasting industry boomed, investing in entertainment agencies became a trend among organizations, and it was still thriving. Well-funded groups even started their own agencies, some of which had grown into major players managing famous celebrities.

One “marketable face” could bring in more money than collecting from Wonseon-dong a hundred times. The public always craved new faces. But faces that could satisfy them were rare.

That’s why Go Baekwoo had initially been asked whether he wanted to “use his face or his fists.” It was a casual question, but it was more of an offer. Considering how most guys were sweet-talked into debuting on TV or thrown in with the muscle without a choice, Go Baekwoo had been lucky. According to Tae Pyeonghyeon, it was because he’d caught the eye of the “big boss.” How he’d impressed a big boss he’d never even met, Go Baekwoo had no idea.

The problem was Cha Hongjo. Tae Pyeonghyeon wasn’t the type to let a money-making face slip by. Go Baekwoo regretted not tying Cha Hongjo up at home, stubbornness be damned.