Desires Chapter 4.5 - III. A Gesture to Become Something

“The director is waiting. I will escort you to the gallery immediately.”

“Yes.”

Han Jiyeon followed Park Seongjae’s guidance toward the Hidden Gallery, restricted to outsiders. The sound of her stiletto heels echoed sharply in the quiet corridor.

The door opened. In the center of the gallery, Cha Woojin, dressed in a flawless suit, greeted Han Jiyeon. She gazed at him intently from a distance.

He was always a man who inspired awe and admiration in others, no matter where he was. A man born with an air of refined elegance and everything one could aspire to. His unusually low, resonant voice filled the gallery like an echo.

“You look stunning today.”

With just a fleeting glance from his cool, masculine eyes, Han Jiyeon felt her heart tremble and had to swallow dryly.

“You said you’d treat me to a meal today. What? Am I not allowed to dress up like this?”

Disguising her excitement and nervousness with boldness, she responded playfully to Cha Woojin’s words. Han Jiyeon, embarrassed as if she had dressed up for a date, blushed silently. Brushing her hair back in discomfort, she got straight to the point.

“What is it? What’s this painting you wanted to show me?”

At her words, Cha Woojin gestured with his chin, his profile perfectly composed. Following his gesture, Han Jiyeon’s gaze shifted to the painting hanging directly in front of them.

[The Ear of the Dead Mother]

As striking as its title, the painting was a bold spectacle. At first glance, it resembled the sacred framework of Catholic liturgical art, yet its contents were filled entirely with anguish and suffering.

The daring brushwork and the vivid, decadent contrast of colors seemed to profane and betray that sanctity, creating an illusion akin to viewing a raw, shamanistic painting. The duality of revered holiness and the irreverent pain of the depths. The stark contrast of agony and purity. The painting’s strange extremes evoked an almost sensual, peculiar sensation beyond mere mystique.

Looking at Cha Woojin, Han Jiyeon asked with an intrigued expression.

“A new artist?”

“I’d like to hear your opinion.”

Her gaze returned to the painting. After a moment of silent contemplation, she turned back to Cha Woojin.

“Why did you call me here? Does Jioh sunbae know you invited me here?”

“…….”

“This could put me in a rather awkward position.”

“I just want your opinion.”

“…….”

“About the investment value of this painting.”

Their mothers were the closest of friends. As expected of the prestigious Yanggwan Daejehak family, known for their deep scholarly traditions, they owned a vast education industry, prominent educational foundations, and scholarship programs. Han Jiyeon, the only daughter of this esteemed family, had pursued the finest elite education in France and Korea, earning degrees in fine arts and art studies. Currently, she was an artist experimenting with blending Eastern and Western painting styles, a professor at H University’s art department, and the director of the Hwarin Art Museum. This was the resume of Han Jiyeon, who wielded considerable influence in the art world despite her young age.

“If it’s an artist who hasn’t even debuted, you wouldn’t want to miss out.”

“…….”

“If you’re aiming for fame, you might have wanted to take a chance and build them up from the start under your name.”

“…….”

“If this painting had come to our museum, you wouldn’t have wanted to show it to anyone in the industry before revealing it to the world.”

“Get to the point.”

“Honestly, it’s beyond my expectations.”

“…….”

A breakthrough. A work that shatters conventions.

“This isn’t just a simulacrum. It’s rare, deconstructive, entirely new, and intensely captivating. It could be a great topic for professional collectors. Even setting aside its pure artistic value, it’s a piece that could become a subject of conversation.”

“…….”

“As you know, those wealthy, bored, vain types are always desperate for new topics to gossip about.”

“…….”

“You know as well as I do that a painting’s value depends on the artist’s future path and subsequent works. This one piece alone can’t guarantee anything. Who ends up owning this artist’s first work will also matter for their future reputation.”

“…….”

“Honestly, if the painting is good enough, you can create both value and a career, right?”

After a deep silence, Cha Woojin spoke.

“That’s why I need your help.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a painting by a kid who’s never had formal art education.”

Han Jiyeon stared at Cha Woojin quietly.

“Someone you know? The person who painted this?”

“Someone you know too.”

At the meaningful glint in Cha Woojin’s eyes, Han Jiyeon couldn’t hold back and pressed him.

“Who is it, exactly? Who is it that you’re putting in so much effort for?”

With a sharp gaze, Cha Woojin answered.

“Song Yeongin.”

In that moment, Han Jiyeon froze in place, silent. Her eyes trembled uncontrollably. She looked utterly shocked and bewildered. After a long pause, she finally spoke.

“That friend from back then is the artist who painted this?”

Cha Woojin nodded with a cold, steady gaze.

“I need your help. If education is needed, provide it. If knowledge in this field is required, give your support. No one knows better than you what that kid needs right now. I’ll compensate you as much as you want.”

“…….”

“You acknowledged that he’s a talent with investment potential, so we can create value and a career, right? I’ll own his first work.”

“So you brought me here on purpose? To my studio?”

Cha Woojin didn’t respond to her words. Han Jiyeon looked deeply confused. She brushed back her meticulously styled hair with a flushed face. Her long eyelashes trembled.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit thrown off right now. This is so unfamiliar to me, you acting like this.”

“…….”

“Investment? Who invests like this? Do you want to be his patron?”

“…….”

“Or do you actually like him? So much that you want to help him this much?”

Cha Woojin simply stood there, silent, coldly observing Han Jiyeon as she bared her emotions unfiltered in front of him.

Unable to stop herself, Han Jiyeon poured out her feelings.

“Your mother and father are desperately hoping for a grandchild from you.”

“…….”

“Are you really oblivious to this? This isn’t the time for this. It’s time to settle down and get married.”

With an icy, merciless expression, Cha Woojin scoffed at her in her face. He watched her silently with cold eyes, as if testing how far she would go.

As she unleashed her shallow jealousy and envy, Cha Woojin observed her with the detachment of a ruthless spectator.

“You, the heir of Woosung, hanging around with a man, can’t marry him or have children with him. If your mother knew about this.”

Cha Woojin’s composed brow furrowed. His expression twisted sharply. With a cold sneer, as if offended, he retorted.

“You’re still saying such naive things.”

Han Jiyeon trembled, staring straight at Cha Woojin. He continued in a flat, emotionless tone.

“Marriage is the greatest corporate merger of a lifetime.”

“…….”

“What do fleeting emotions, changing by the hour, have to do with acquisitions and mergers?”

Unable to calm herself, Han Jiyeon responded with a flushed face.

“I don’t understand wanting to live separately after marriage and having an affair. With a man, no less. Don’t you know how much attention people in this circle and the media are paying to you? Who do you trust to get involved with some nobody from nowhere?”

Cha Woojin cut off her escalating emotions with a cold, steady voice, calling her name softly.

“Han Jiyeon.”

“…….”

“I’ve told you before, I don’t care at all about whatever feelings you have for me.”

Han Jiyeon froze, her words silenced.

“But it’s troublesome if you express your emotions so openly in front of me.”

“…….”

“If you want to keep hovering around me, using my mother as an excuse, as you’ve always done, you’d better shut your mouth now.”

Han Jiyeon clenched her teeth. Cha Woojin continued indifferently.

“Yoon Jioh is the kind of person who could sell that kid off to someone else for the right price at any moment. If I don’t intervene, he could be sold off anytime. That’s why I need you, someone who despises backroom deals and schemes.”

Cha Woojin didn’t trust Yoon Jioh, especially not when they brought up James Han. The thought that Yoon Jioh might be scheming to play both him and James Han made it impossible to trust them further.

He could handle someone like Matteo, no matter how foolish, within his control. But James Han, a business figure with international influence, was no easy opponent. If Yoon Jioh was weighing him against James Han, that could become a serious problem outside his control.

Never give them an opening.

No matter how many times it was emphasized, it couldn’t be overstated. Ignoring irregularities and getting blindsided would lead to astronomical losses that couldn’t be recovered.

Han Jiyeon was stunned by Cha Woojin’s words, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

The sight of him struggling with compassion for someone else. The idea that he would protect that kid, even turning his back on his cousin Yoon Jioh, was utterly unbelievable to her.

What she found most unbelievable was his gaze. In over 20 years of carrying him in her heart, she had never seen that look in Cha Woojin’s eyes. Something he had never given to anyone. It drove her to lose all reason, exposing her deepest emotions.

“You’re really completely taken by that kid, aren’t you?”

“…….”

“Compassion is a form of love. I thought even that would be impossible for a cold-blooded sociopath like you, who treats other people’s emotions like filthy garbage. That’s why I never had any expectations of you.”

Han Jiyeon began to sob, as if everything she’d suppressed burst out at once.

“You love that kid?”

Cha Woojin, facing her loss of composure, let out a cold, incredulous sneer.

“Love?”

With a disdainful, arrogant gaze, he dismissed it as trivial.

“Childish nonsense. What could something so insignificant possibly amount to?”

He openly mocked her weak, naive sentimentality, crying over something as unnecessary as love in front of him.

Han Jiyeon was stunned by the cold indifference in his face. No one could ever possess this man. Not because he didn’t know love, but because he knew it and could ruthlessly trample it, acknowledging it amounted to nothing.

Yet, in the face of Cha Woojin’s icy reason and cruelty, Han Jiyeon felt a strange relief. If she couldn’t have him, no one should. That this was the familiar Cha Woojin she knew gave her a faint sense of comfort.

Cha Woojin spoke softly.

“I’ve always admired your naive passion, despising the schemes and plots of someone like Yoon Jioh. That’s why I called you here today.”

“…….”

“But it seems I made a mistake.”

“…….”

“Leave.”

His cold, merciless gaze was like a blade slicing through everything. His eyes were sharp with intent. Through those unforgiving eyes, she realized.

‘This might be the end of my connection with Cha Woojin.’

He was fully capable of that. He had warned her multiple times. Nothing scared Han Jiyeon more. Realizing her mistake in losing control, she couldn’t understand why she was so desperate to stay by his side, even at the cost of her dignity. This pathetic desperation was almost unbelievable to her.

“I’m sorry for overstepping.”

She threw away her pride. She had hit rock bottom. She was dumbfounded at herself. Han Jiyeon couldn’t bear the disgust she felt for showing such depths.

“I’ll help as much as I can.”

Cha Woojin responded with a bored, empty gaze.

“Don’t overdo it. I’m not forcing you.”

He didn’t demand anything. But that single, cold, merciless look was a threat in itself. It spoke of the end of over 20 years. That ruthless gaze, warning her that even her mother’s name wouldn’t save her if she kept meddling with talk of marriage or love, was the absolute terror she had always feared. Han Jiyeon had to feign composure again.

She clenched her teeth, trembling. Twenty years of unrequited love. The fear of never seeing him again had led her to choose friendship.

Now, she had to make a cruel decision.

“Cha Woojin, it’s not because of you. I’ll admit it. Even setting aside my feelings, he’s a talent worth wanting. He has more than enough investment value.”

But Cha Woojin didn’t respond to her belated words. Han Jiyeon forced an unaffected expression.

To be the one laughing in the end.

Until everyone else was cast aside and disappeared from his side, she would remain by him in the final moment. Her resolute determination to ultimately claim his side remained unshaken.

Even if it required relentless patience, she didn’t care. Twenty years, decades, even into middle age or twilight—if that was the only way to have him, she could endure it.

Brushing her hair back, Han Jiyeon smiled with refined grace, as if nothing had happened. What she had learned from her mother was to maintain noble composure, suppressing her resolve even at rock bottom.

“Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

🌫️

“Caramelized foie gras with eel and jalapeño cucumber sorbet.”

Song Yeongin placed a large plate in front of the guest seated in the VIP room.

The stranger’s gaze had followed Song Yeongin each time he entered the room, meticulously scanning him up and down.

As if cataloging every refined movement and delicate bone structure. An overtly persistent appraisal. Finally, the man broke the silence.

“Jimil…”

The sudden mention of Jimil startled Song Yeongin’s calm eyes, which widened in surprise. His trembling, helpless gaze fixed on the stranger.

“Have you quit Jimil?”

A tall man, appearing to be in his early forties, with an intellectual and dignified presence. He looked vaguely familiar. Song Yeongin tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The man seemed to hope Song Yeongin would recognize him. But Song Yeongin couldn’t recall. Disappointment was evident on the stranger’s face.

He wasn’t someone easily forgotten. He was handsome, with a gentlemanly appearance that would inspire goodwill in anyone.

Yet, despite Song Yeongin’s indifferent failure to remember, the man didn’t give up or back down. If anything, his lack of recognition seemed to spur his determination.

“Your memory must be poor, or perhaps I didn’t leave a strong impression on you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m the one who was rude to someone who doesn’t remember me.”

Song Yeongin tried to brush off his words casually, but the man, as if provoked, began to ruthlessly stir his memory.

“What happened to the whiskey I asked for in the conference room that day? I kept waiting for you to bring it. The manager said there was an accident.”

Only then did Song Yeongin recall that this man was the VVIP who, alongside Cha Woojin in Jimil’s conference room, had ordered whiskey in a skull-shaped bottle.

It was a brief encounter in the dim light needed for the screen projector. Besides, it was a story from months ago. Seeing Song Yeongin’s expression of realization, the man gave a faint sigh of relief.

“Have you quit Jimil?”

“Yes, I left a while ago.”

“James Han, my name.”

As he said his name, memories came rushing back. Even things that didn’t need to be remembered.

James Han smiled gently and said.

“I don’t forget a beautiful face, so I recognized you the moment you walked in.”

“…….”

His Korean was so fluent it was almost unnoticeable, but the soft pronunciation and faint English accent suggested a long life abroad. He seemed intent on keeping Song Yeongin there.

But Song Yeongin couldn’t think of anything to say to this stranger. To avoid the awkward atmosphere, he hurriedly tried to wrap up and leave the room.

“Then, enjoy your time.”

As Song Yeongin bowed to leave, James Han left a pointed remark.

“I came looking for a place Cha Woojin supposedly acquired under the table.”

“…….”

“And finding you, someone from Jimil, working here—what a remarkable coincidence, isn’t it?”

With a refined smile and a gentle tone, James Han spoke. But beneath that softness was a sharp thorn. A thorn powerful enough to pierce deep.

Song Yeongin’s clear, delicate face showed a bewildered expression. He remained silent.

What was this man talking about? The fact that Cha Woojin was the true owner of Laqueur was a secret even the staff didn’t know. How did he know and why was he saying this to him? Song Yeongin could only be on high alert in front of this man.

James Han added with a smile.

“You disappeared with Cha Woojin that day, didn’t you?”

The composed eyes, once clouded with bewilderment, instantly shifted, becoming as calm as still water. He could sense it instinctively. He had to put on a mask in front of this man. That was the only thing Song Yeongin had learned at Jimil.

“I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

Song Yeongin, with a calm expression as a facade, slowly blinked his refined eyes.

“I see.”

“…….”

“I must have made a strong impression today. I hope you’ll remember me the next time we meet. I have a feeling we’ll cross paths again soon.”

Song Yeongin, with a composed face, silently bowed his head. He promptly closed the door and quickly left the room.

He quietly traced back memories from months ago.

James Han.

That day, he had indeed teased him by touching his pinky finger. Cha Woojin had deliberately smashed the skull-shaped bottle he’d been ordered to bring right in front of him. Then, under the pretense of an accident, he had instructed the manager to send Song Yeongin home. He recalled the voice that had flowed from Cha Woojin’s lips.

‘It sways between hell and desire.’

He even remembered that this was the phrase written on the label of that skull-shaped bottle.

Song Yeongin’s mind grew complicated. Though he was cloaked in sophistication and smiling, he could sense from his blatant gaze, intent on keeping him there, that this brief, chance encounter wasn’t likely to be a simple end, as the man had said. A bad premonition stirred.

Had Cha Woojin done that back then to protect him from this man? Was that why he smashed the innocent whiskey bottle in front of him and arrogantly reprimanded his own clumsiness in such a way?

He could never fathom Cha Woojin’s intentions.

🌫️

“He’s on a business trip in Hong Kong for an emergency board meeting.”

For days now, Song Yeongin hadn’t caught a glimpse of Cha Woojin in this penthouse. It seemed an unexpected major issue had arisen in the matters he was responsible for. The one who informed him that he was on a business trip to Hong Kong and Shanghai was none other than Jang Haeseong.

For days, he hadn’t heard any news from him. Song Yeongin, too, hadn’t tried to contact Cha Woojin after hearing about the situation from Jang Haeseong. He didn’t want to thoughtlessly interfere in such a tense situation.

In truth, they had never been close enough to exchange frequent updates. Cha Woojin was often away for weeks on frequent overseas business trips, his whereabouts elusive, and he would always appear before him suddenly without warning.

It was only because he had been semi-forced to move into this penthouse that he couldn’t help but notice his absence with his own eyes, making him realize once again that he was such a relentlessly busy person.

As a result, Song Yeongin was the only one left guarding this vast, empty penthouse. The housemaid and Jang Haeseong resided in a separate annex-like staff room within the penthouse.

Both had urged him to call upon them at any time, as if they were his hands and feet, but Song Yeongin never once summoned them after returning home from work. He couldn’t possibly commit such rudeness as calling them late at night or treating them like servants.

‘Cha Woojin supposedly acquired this place under the table….’

‘And finding you, someone from Jimil, working here—what a remarkable coincidence, isn’t it?’

Song Yeongin had debated several times whether to mention James Han to Cha Woojin. But he was currently absent. He didn’t want to add another troublesome burden to a man already swamped with urgent matters abroad.

No, the encounter with James Han, which had happened days ago, was already fading from Song Yeongin’s memory.

🌫️

It was an earlier-than-usual return home. After finishing work, Song Yeongin came back to the penthouse and immediately washed up in the bathroom.

It had already been over ten days since his absence.

His balanced, pale, and sleek body emerged from the bathroom, shaking off water. Draped in a thin bathrobe, he leaned against the bed, slowly closing and opening his eyes repeatedly. The thought of boredom struck him suddenly.

Boredom. Unbearably so…

The familiar silence and stillness, yet the vast, cavernous house and room, with its impossibly high ceiling, relentlessly fueled an empty, unfamiliar sense of confinement. It was a different kind of loneliness Song Yeongin had never felt before.

It was a deep loneliness he couldn’t have felt in a cramped, single room barely large enough to move his body. This place felt like a luxurious exile where Cha Woojin had stationed a warden to watch over him.

It wasn’t even 11 p.m. yet.

A sudden thirst arose. Song Yeongin recalled that there was a large chain coffee shop on the first floor of the building.

In truth, since moving here, he had never once ventured to the ground floor’s park or shopping area in the building’s courtyard. He was always escorted by Jang Haeseong, taken straight to the penthouse via a private elevator under his supervision.

The sudden urge to have a cup of coffee struck him.

Once decided, Song Yeongin didn’t hesitate. He shed the bathrobe, grabbed casual clothes from the wardrobe, and put them on. Picking up his wallet from the nightstand, Song Yeongin swiftly left the house and headed to the ground floor.

He walked aimlessly. Crossing the small park in the center of the building, he headed toward the café. The fresh air filled his lungs, refreshing him. Song Yeongin felt a small sense of freedom in this act.

Wearing a V-neck short-sleeve T-shirt that slightly revealed his collarbone, topped with a thin navy cardigan, was far too light to withstand the lingering chill. His body, fresh from a shower, shivered in the cold. Song Yeongin hurried indoors.

The 24-hour café was still bustling with a fair number of customers even at this hour.

“Something warm, please.”

After ordering, Song Yeongin took his coffee and sat by the window with a view of the outside. Watching the city center through the glass was a completely new experience for him.

He gazed absently at the passing crowds and the flickering city lights. The distant shadows of tree lights decorating the winter night, the bustling people, the flowing swing jazz, and the cozy indoor lighting—Song Yeongin savored a strange sense of comfort and a near-rebellious sense of freedom. He was immersed in the scenery outside the window for quite a while.

When he rummaged through the cardigan’s pocket, he realized he had forgotten his phone on the bathroom shelf in his haste to leave. But since he wasn’t someone who clung to his phone, Song Yeongin wasn’t flustered at all.

‘I’ll sit a bit longer and then leave.’

With that thought, Song Yeongin took a sip of his now-cold coffee.

While Song Yeongin was leisurely lingering, a familiar figure with a pale, alarmed expression spotted him from afar and rushed into the café. The man dashed to his table, panting heavily.

“Ha! Haa… Mr. Song Yeongin…! You suddenly disappeared…”

A sturdy man looked at him with a reproachful gaze.

“I almost lost my head.”

It was Jang Haeseong. He caught his breath urgently in front of him.

“You left your phone behind. Disappearing without a word… I’ve been searching for you for a while.”

Song Yeongin was the one more surprised.

“The director has returned and is looking for you. He’s very worried.”

Had he returned from his business trip while Song Yeongin was out, without any notice?

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to grab a coffee…”

“I clearly told you to let me know if you needed anything. Why do you think I’m on call 24 hours?”

Jang Haeseong scolded him like a child. Song Yeongin looked up at him, his characteristic composed and upright eyes pleading with a sense of injustice.

“How could I ask you to get me a coffee at this late hour, Manager Jang?”

“That’s my job.”

“I have hands and feet too. I wanted to buy and drink my own coffee.”

“If you want to go out, just tell me next time, and I’ll accompany you. The director is very upset.”

“…….”

At that moment, Jang Haeseong’s phone rang sharply.

“Yes, Director…! He was at the café on the first floor. He forgot his phone… I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I have no excuse. I’ll accept any disciplinary action.”

Jang Haeseong bowed repeatedly into the phone. At the mention of disciplinary action, Song Yeongin’s face stiffened instantly.

“Shall I bring Mr. Song Yeongin up?”

Jang Haeseong bowed again, hung up, and turned to Song Yeongin.

“The director says he’ll come down here himself.”

Song Yeongin’s eyes instantly returned to their gentle, harmless state. The thought that he had caused trouble for Jang Haeseong with his actions made him feel guilty.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t know this would put you in a difficult position… I’ll make it clear to the director that it was my fault, so you won’t get in trouble.”

Jang Haeseong gave a wry smile.

“He’s very concerned about you, Mr. Song Yeongin…”

Jang Haeseong said this and promptly headed toward the café’s entrance. He assumed a security stance, skillfully preparing to greet Cha Woojin.

How much time had passed?

Cha Woojin appeared at the café’s entrance. He hadn’t had time to change, still dressed in his work attire with a coat over his suit. Jang Haeseong kept bowing at the entrance.

The moment Cha Woojin lingered at the entrance and stepped into the café, the subtle attention of the busy café’s patrons shifted toward him.

As Cha Woojin spotted Song Yeongin by the window from afar, he strode purposefully inside. From that moment, the café’s gazes began to focus on them. Specifically, from the moment he walked in, exuding an undeniable commanding presence and aura…

The tall man, drawing all eyes, stopped at Song Yeongin’s table and stood still. He looked down at him quietly and spoke.

“Why do you make people worry like this?”

Song Yeongin looked up at the man silently.

“Manager Jang didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted a coffee… I foolishly forgot my phone, and I didn’t know you’d be back in the meantime.”

Cha Woojin let out a hollow chuckle into the air, as if exasperated. His smile, tinged with fatigue, looked deeply languid.

“When are you going to tell me to sit?”

Song Yeongin, who had been staring blankly with a dazed expression, realized belatedly and said.

“Oh… please sit.”

The man, who had been the center of attention, finally pulled out a chair and sat across from Song Yeongin.

Sitting face-to-face, Song Yeongin could see how haggard his face was. His tired, languid face turned toward him. His cool, elongated eyes narrowed in disbelief, staring intently at him. That weary, sensual gaze brought a flood of uncontrollable thoughts.

The man scanned Song Yeongin’s face as if taking it all in. Song Yeongin’s mind and heart prickled under that unabashed gaze. Why couldn’t he get used to this? That gaze, those jet-black eyes, his habits… everything.

It felt as if everything had returned to the beginning, so unfamiliar that the tension made his entire body rigid.

“…Would you like a coffee?”

Song Yeongin asked quietly.

“Sounds good.”

He replied casually, letting out a languid breath. At his straightforward agreement, Song Yeongin’s expression brightened.

“What would you like?”

“…….”

“I’ll treat.”

His expression was as excited as a child’s. At the soft, thrilled voice, Cha Woojin’s lips curved into a charming arc.

“My throat’s parched, so something cold, please.”

Without a word, Song Yeongin stood up with his wallet.

Song Yeongin headed to the counter, drawing the man’s gaze. This was a man who disliked additives so much he drank his martinis extra hard. He probably didn’t like sweet things. With that simple thought, Song Yeongin ordered an iced Americano.

While waiting for the drink, Song Yeongin glanced at Cha Woojin from afar. The man, drawing an almost troublesome amount of attention from those around him. Women at nearby tables whispered and stole glances at the man cramming his long legs into the small chair.

Song Yeongin placed the iced Americano in front of him and quietly sat down. He smiled faintly.

“You wanted to drink coffee in the middle of the night?”

His composed, gentle eyes blinked slowly. The black glass window, reflecting the night scenery, showed Cha Woojin and Song Yeongin sitting side by side.

“Sitting by the window like this, watching the outside while leisurely drinking coffee.”

“…….”

“I… wanted to try it, just once.”

At his sincere, innocent reply, Cha Woojin didn’t ask anything further. He took a sip of the cold coffee.

Sitting across from him at a small table, Cha Woojin stared intently at his face. His persistent gaze, coolly scanning every detail, continued.

“Your hair’s wet…”

Song Yeongin lightly brushed the damp ends of his hair.

“Oh… I came straight down after washing…”

His clear, translucent face, fresh from a shower, bore a faint flush. The still-damp ends of his thin hair glistened with moisture. His red, full lips sipped the coffee.

It was still winter. Wearing just a thin cardigan, Song Yeongin looked defenseless, like someone who had just showered and stepped out of the house. Cha Woojin openly scanned that vulnerability, the unexpected purity it conveyed. As his piercing gaze continued, Song Yeongin asked.

“Is there… something on my face?”

The man, who had been tracing his long, pale neckline, answered with a sharp, displeased look.

“You’re shivering.”

Only then did Song Yeongin realize that goosebumps were visibly forming on his exposed collarbone due to the chill. He had only thought the indoor air was colder than expected after his shower. Cha Woojin glared at him disapprovingly.

“It’s still cold out. Why didn’t you wear something warmer?”

“I’m fine…”

Shivering from the chill, Song Yeongin looked at Cha Woojin’s haggard, fatigue-worn face and asked.

“You must be exhausted, right? Shouldn’t you… go rest?”

He noticed that Cha Woojin hadn’t checked his watch the entire time they sat together. He had no more appointments.

“Let’s head up…”

Cha Woojin quietly followed Song Yeongin as he left the café. He grabbed Song Yeongin’s shoulder as he passed through the entrance.

Song Yeongin’s shoulder, grasped by him, was damp from the water dripping from his hair. Cha Woojin abruptly took off his long coat.

“Put this on.”

Song Yeongin’s eyes trembled subtly at the sudden action.

“I’m fine. It’s just upstairs…”

Cha Woojin draped the coat over Song Yeongin’s shoulders.

“I’m the one who’s not fine.”

He said in a nonchalant tone.

Wearing Cha Woojin’s oversized long coat, Song Yeongin walked back the way he came, side by side with him.

To reach the private elevator to the penthouse, they had to cross the small park in the building’s courtyard again. Under the faint, dim streetlights, the shadows of his masculine, sculpted features deepened.

Wearing his coat and walking side by side, Song Yeongin felt that this moment was like a scene from a dream he had long ago.

Was this what they called déjà vu?

A fleeting sense of familiarity and strangeness. It felt as if he had dreamed this long before meeting him. If everything was predetermined, struggling might be futile.

If he were still painting, he would surely have painted this moment. Fleeting yet tender things… Painting them would etch them in his heart, never to be forgotten, held fast so they wouldn’t slip away.

In the elevator to the top floor, neither spoke. But Song Yeongin didn’t find this silence unfamiliar. Rather, this thrilling silence with Cha Woojin felt almost comforting.

The elevator doors opened at the top floor, and they passed through the baroque-style iron gate and lobby to the entrance. Out of habit, Song Yeongin reached for the door lever at the same time as Cha Woojin.

Their hands overlapped on the lever. Song Yeongin flinched, quickly pulling his hand away from the man’s. His heart raced.

“…S-sorry…”

Cha Woojin maintained a composed expression, as if it were no big deal. His narrowed eyes glanced at him casually. That nonchalant, upright profile painfully clawed at his heart in an oddly poignant way.

The door opened. From the brief touch of their hands, Song Yeongin couldn’t help but recall that night. The vivid memory of Cha Woojin’s intense, consuming gestures and caresses at the entrance flooded back.

The way he had pulled down his knit shirt as if to tear it, burying his lips in soft skin, sucking on the erect red nipples and chest while lowly calling Song Yeongin’s name with an aroused voice. The flushed ears of that man. The rough, restless breaths of that turbulent night. The burning desires that had set the night ablaze.

Just recalling that night made Song Yeongin’s ears redden. Yet, rendering that passion irrelevant, Cha Woojin walked down the long hallway without so much as touching him.

Song Yeongin followed the man’s broad, imposing back. At the end of the hallway, the living room came into view, and they stood at a fork with a staircase. The second floor held the man’s study and rooms, while Song Yeongin was staying in the master room downstairs.

Cha Woojin turned, his tired, haggard eyes fixed on him.

“You must be exhausted. Go rest.”

Wearing his coat, Song Yeongin looked up at Cha Woojin in the quiet, his eyes wavering.

Why had he thought Cha Woojin would embrace him the moment they entered the house?

Embarrassed by his own confusion, Song Yeongin couldn’t find words to continue. Cha Woojin, standing still, looked at him and said.

“I have unfinished work, so I’ll need to wrap it up tonight.”

“Did I… cause trouble by keeping you at the café?”

Cha Woojin shook his head, letting out a tired, languid sigh.

“The coffee cleared my head, thanks to you.”

“…….”

“Good night, then.”

With that, Cha Woojin climbed the stairs to his study on the second floor without a hint of sentiment.

Confirming his ascent, Song Yeongin heavily turned toward the master room where he was staying.

‘Thud—’

Closing the door, Song Yeongin stood with his back against it in the darkness. Without turning on the light, in the vast, dark room, he thought to himself.