Desires Chapter 5.10 - Provocations

— We just received a report about Director Cha Woojin.

“Manager Kim, I’m in the middle of entertaining a guest… Is it urgent?”

Setting down a blue-and-white porcelain cup on the table, Cha Woosun spoke leisurely into the phone with an elegant expression.

— It’s reported that Director Cha visited W&G in person. Accompanied by an intimate companion, he restricted access at MVVG and enjoyed exclusive shopping.

“Who?”

— Song Yeongin.

“Keep going.”

— It’s said he gifted Song Yeongin a Patek Philippe watch worth 2.7 billion won.

“…”

— According to the staff who directly attended them, Director Cha Woojin mentioned to Song Yeongin that the watch was a betrothal gift.

“That lunatic… He’s completely lost his mind!”

Hanging up the phone, Cha Woosun couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Her refined, aristocratic face burst into a wide grin, and she made no effort to hide it from the person sharing tea with her.

A nearby attendant, serving tea to the pair, refilled the empty blue-and-white porcelain cup, adorned with two tigers clutching a sacred orb, from a teapot.

“At forty years old, I’m seeing all sorts of nonsense. Do you know how it feels to get real-time updates on my trusted little brother acting like a madman?”

“…”

“It’s chilling… Who would’ve thought he’d do something like this? That cold-blooded guy who wouldn’t shed a drop of blood even if you stabbed him. To think he’d pull something now that he didn’t even do in his teenage years.”

“…”

“Truly, late-blooming passion is terrifying.”

“Exactly. This is all because you didn’t keep your brother in check, Woosun.”

Cha Woosun shot a mocking glance at the man in front of her.

“James… or rather, Han Juhyuk, are you in any position to talk?”

James Han laughed slyly, like a cunning fox.

Cha Woosun gave a playful glare to James Han, a connection she’d maintained since her study abroad days in the U.S. at twenty. Though it was kept strictly confidential, there had once been talk of marriage between them.

Having gone through stormy wanderings and their twenties together, seeing all sorts of things, it felt awkward to put on airs now in their middle age. Her refined, haughty face directed blunt words at James Han.

“What’s so great about a man’s backside that you all can’t get enough of it? Is that kid really that charming?”

With a sly grin and drooping eyes, James Han said, “Oh, he’s quite something, you know. Seems born to seduce men. Even at his age, he makes you feel a spark.”

Cha Woosun clicked her tongue in disgust at James Han’s lewd remarks. She wasn’t unaware of his notorious debauchery, which had been the talk of the town since their study abroad days at twenty.

“So, what’s your angle for bringing up those two to me now?”

“To be honest, I’m more interested in something else than that kid’s body.”

“…”

“I’m not doing this just to sleep with or date some twenty-something kid. That kind of pointless, exhausting nonsense? I got tired of it ages ago.”

“Then what is it? Why are you dragging me into this…”

Cha Woosun narrowed her eyes.

“His paintings.”

“…”

“There’s something intriguing about his paintings.”

Unable to hide his fascination, James Han added with a glint in his eyes, “Those paintings are meaningful because he painted them… The artist and the work are like two peas in a pod, identical.”

“…”

“Desperate, beautiful, pure… and provocative.”

That the kid painted, and that his work was of a caliber coveted by James Han—a fastidious collector and ardent aesthete—was all surprising and new information to Cha Woosun.

“You’re praising him so much, now I’m curious.”

“You know me. When I want something, I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

Cha Woosun shook her head in exasperation, as if fed up with his perverse collecting obsession and eccentricities. Everyone who knew him from their U.S. study abroad days acknowledged that he was a maniac who’d stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He’d even shot someone dead in front of witnesses to obtain something he desired.

“But your brother screwed me over. He snatched it right in front of me and threatened me. How did you raise him that he’s acting like a wild colt, running rampant without knowing his place?”

Cha Woosun gave a sly, mischievous glance, even more cunning than the fox in front of her.

“Juhyuk, that kid’s dangerous… Don’t mess with him lightly. You know I’ve got a bad temper, right? But even I’m like a tame lamb in front of him.”

James Han toyed with a blue-and-white porcelain cup adorned with lotus flowers.

“I’d feel better if I could take it back. You’ve got to help me out.”

Setting down her porcelain cup, Cha Woosun balked, while the attendant serving tea filled the empty cup again with an expressionless face.

“Good grief, why should I?! If I help you… what’s in it for me?”

“There’s something, of course. Isn’t that kid an eyesore for you too? I’m saying I’ll take care of him for you.”

“I told you, he’s my brother, but I’m scared of him! You don’t know how cold and ruthless he is… He doesn’t care about hierarchy or even family ties. Even our father tiptoes around him.”

“…”

“The marriage will proceed as planned, and Song Yeongin will probably be kept as a sidepiece for a while before he’s discarded. People like us, with arranged marriages… you know how it is, don’t you? I can’t meddle in his personal life.”

A deep, sly male voice whispered cunningly to Cha Woosun.

“If you want, I’ll make it worth your while. If this goes well, that Pissarro’s Dahlias you’ve always wanted… I could give it to you.”

The refined woman’s eyes sparkled. Cha Woosun scrutinized James Han with a skeptical expression.

“That much?”

“Woosun, you don’t seem to get it, but your brother’s completely smitten with that kid, out of his mind.”

Cha Woosun furrowed her brow.

“Would you believe he traded exclusive export profits with Woosung Electronics for Song Yeongin? It seems Director Cha’s using some plausible excuse to cover it up, but… he gave up exclusive semiconductor procurement rights in Asia to protect that kid.”

Cha Woosun’s face twitched.

“What… are you talking about?!”

It was hard to fully trust James Han’s words. But if they were true, it was a serious problem. If the chairman found out, being ousted from Woosung Electronics’ board of directors wouldn’t even cover it.

“I did some digging, Woosun. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if your immature, late-blooming brother calls off the engagement with Representative Shin Hwachul.”

“…”

“If he’d played around recklessly like me when he was younger, he wouldn’t be acting like this now.”

“You don’t know him. He wouldn’t do that. Stop trying to stir trouble.”

“Wanna bet?”

Cha Woosun could tell from the confident, arrogant attitude of the man in front of her that his provocation was no joke.

“Han Juhyuk, why are you so obsessed with that kid’s paintings or whatever?”

“Woosun, do you know what determines the value of an object?”

“…”

“How hard it was to get into my hands.”

“…”

“You know most of my prized possessions are rare items obtained through illegal black-market deals. If I want something, I’ll steal it, break it, whatever it takes to have it… You know why I hate legitimate transactions? Things that are easily obtained, no matter how expensive, feel worthless and boring to me.”

Still the same lunatic.

“People like us, who’ve always gotten everything we wanted since we were young, go half-mad when something we desire is out of reach. Your brother’s interference has driven me up the wall. I want it so badly.”

The painting? Or… Song Yeongin?

“Nice excuse.”

“At first, it was just collector’s curiosity, but now that I can’t have it, it’s driving me insane, like someone else’s cake I’m dying to eat.”

“…”

“And I want to teach your arrogant brother, who thinks he’s the best in the world, a lesson about life’s bitterness.”

Cha Woosun shot him a look, as if she’d seen something repulsive, but with a playful glint.

“Oh my… are you jealous?”

Cha Woosun knew how to handle this man. More cunning than a thousand-year-old fox, more shameless, more mischievous, and more wicked.

“He’s my brother, but I’ll admit he’s impressive.”

Cha Woosun was once again painfully reminded that people don’t change. This debauched, middle-aged man had long lost interest in sexual pleasure or thrills, now consumed by a manic collecting obsession. His lawless, reckless pursuit of acquisitions was notorious even among the gossipmongers in their circle.

That pathological possessiveness and obsession, whether for a person or an object, hadn’t changed one bit. Was it truly just the desire to own that kid’s paintings? Or had that obsession shifted to Song Yeongin himself? The insistence that it had to be a painting by that kid—perhaps it was both.

As much as she felt sorry for the kid, it might be wiser to throw out some bait and step back before this lunatic went after her brother.

Cha Woosun clicked her tongue in disgust. She was glad she hadn’t gotten tangled up with this guy back then.

“Pissarro’s Dahlias? So… what do you need me to do?”

He had once been a man who made women swoon, and his striking looks hadn’t faded. The mature charm of the man was accentuated by the sly wrinkles around his drooping eyes.

“Woosun, you always get straight to the point. If only I’d married you back then.”

James Han found her candid, straightforward manner as refreshing now as it had been twenty years ago. But Cha Woosun, with a playful smile, fired back with her usual sharp-tongued wit.

“Oh, come on! Trying to ruin someone’s life? It’s a good thing our marriage talks fell through… You have no idea how relieved we both were to avoid that mess.”

The white coat, soaked with sticky fluids and semen, was trampled under Cha Woojin’s shoes and smeared with dirt, utterly ruined. In the end, it was tossed straight into the trash.

Cha Woojin handed Song Yeongin an identical white coat, pants, and knitwear. He seemed particularly fond of that outfit.

The lower part, not yet cleaned up, was still damp and uncomfortable, with the man’s thick semen trickling down.

Even in the car, Song Yeongin couldn’t steady himself, his thighs trembling uncontrollably. The man’s sharp, cold profile still looked like that of someone angry, his lips tightly shut. Song Yeongin, with tired eyes closed, leaned back in the seat.

“Want me to carry you?”

In that brief moment, he must have dozed off.

It was Cha Woojin, standing by the open car door, who woke Song Yeongin. His childlike, clear face rubbed sleepy eyes, trying to shake off the drowsiness.

The classic suit, tailored perfectly to the man’s frame, was pristine, without a single wrinkle, as if the beastly act from earlier had never happened.

Song Yeongin found the man’s brazen, ascetic demeanor infuriatingly hypocritical.

Park Sungjae handed a card key to Cha Woojin, who was standing by the car door.

Whatever he had done inside him left Song Yeongin’s thighs trembling, his lower body completely drained of strength. Struggling to stand, his staggering body was swiftly caught by Cha Woojin. He didn’t even have the energy to push him away.

Cha Woojin supported him, holding his shoulder and waist as they walked. Knowing words wouldn’t get through to him, Song Yeongin didn’t bother asking where they were or putting up any resistance.

As soon as they stepped out of the private elevator, Cha Woojin effortlessly lifted the unsteady Song Yeongin into his arms. Like a limp piece of wood, Song Yeongin offered no resistance, silently nestled in the man’s embrace. Cha Woojin carried him straight to the bedroom and began undressing him without hesitation.

“I… I can’t do any more.”

As he pulled down Song Yeongin’s pants, Cha Woojin responded in a low voice.

“That’s not it. I’m going to clean you up… The semen I shot deep inside you is probably still pooled in there.”

He swiftly tugged down Song Yeongin’s soaked underwear. The pale, translucent skin flushed red with embarrassment.

The penthouse occupied an entire floor of the hotel. The expansive outdoor space, designed to resemble a private pool villa, embraced the city’s nightscape. An infinity pool stretched to the edge of the exterior wall, and grand, antique-style whirlpool tubs were lined up for open-air spa experiences. A central fountain, reminiscent of the Trevi Fountain, sprayed water illuminated by elegant, romantic lights.

The long outdoor party hall was adorned with lavish banquet food, desserts, and finger foods. Extravagant candles and fresh flowers scattered generously on the floor, paired with soft garden lighting, created the secretive, romantic ambiance of a clandestine garden party.

Without a word, Cha Woojin carried Song Yeongin into the nearest marble bathtub. Warm water surged around his slender, languid body.

The man who had pushed him in finally began to unbutton his shirt and pants. His robust, naked body joined Song Yeongin in the tub. Song Yeongin leaned back in the warm water, closing his tired eyes.

He felt so relaxed he could drift off again. Cha Woojin, now close beside him, wrapped an arm around Song Yeongin’s prominent shoulders and parted his neatly aligned thighs. His thick arm slid between them.

Song Yeongin’s gracefully curved eyes snapped open in shock. He stared blankly at the man’s calm face. A finger plunged deep into his trembling opening.

“Ngh…! No!”

“Stay still. If I don’t clean out what I left inside, you’ll end up with a stomachache and leaking everywhere.”

Cha Woojin curled his long, thick finger, scraping the slick inner walls. The sensitive lining and mucous membranes were continuously stimulated by the man’s knobby fingers.

“Hah, ugh, stop…!”

A trembling white hand pushed against the man’s broad, muscular shoulder.

“It’s still quivering inside…”

The man grinned mischievously, his long eyes crinkling.

“Not enough? Should I thrust in one more time? You’re so loose and soft, clinging to my finger like you want to swallow it.”

The fine hairs on Song Yeongin’s long neck stood on end, trembling.

“Do you enjoy tormenting me?”

Cha Woojin laughed playfully, as if genuinely delighted.

“Yeah, I’m crazy about it… You don’t know how insanely sexy you are when you frown and get mad like that.”

Song Yeongin shoved the man’s broad chest, striking his solid body with all his strength.

Cha Woojin rose from the tub. His taut, provocative nude form strode away, muscles rippling in his back. He swept back his wet hair, drying himself with a towel from the sunbed and slipping into a provided robe. Water droplets fell from his short hair onto the floor.

Song Yeongin, watching him from the tub, blinked slowly. The candles in glass cages around them flickered. The elegant flames on ornate candelabras swayed in slow motion, mirroring the man before him.

At the outdoor table, fully set with party food, he grabbed a gold bottle of champagne and deftly twisted off the cork. With a pop, he filled two wine glasses with bubbling champagne.

Draped in the robe, the man approached with the champagne glasses and a cake adorned with lit candles. He handed Song Yeongin a glass.

“Shall we toast?”

Cha Woojin slid the candlelit cake close to him and asked with a relaxed smile.

“You really don’t know what today is?”

Song Yeongin blinked slowly, like someone dazed, and replied.

“…I’m not sure.”

He was too out of it.

He didn’t even know what day it was, let alone have the mental space to care.

Cha Woojin lightly clinked his champagne glass against the one he’d forced into Song Yeongin’s hand.

“How can you forget your own birthday?”

“…”

“Happy birthday.”

A warm spark flickered in the man’s cool eyes.

“Oh…!”

Song Yeongin let out a small gasp, holding the champagne glass.

Calculating the date in his head, it did seem to be his birthday. But he’d never really celebrated it in his life. For years after his mother’s death, such meaningless anniversaries had faded and been forgotten within him.

What was the point of being born if the person who gave birth to him was no longer in this world?

He’d never considered his birthday a special day worthy of celebration by others. It was no different from any other ordinary day.

His delicate, water-soaked face looked up at the man quietly and asked.

“How did you know?”

“I can bug phones; finding out your birthday isn’t hard for me.”

Cha Woojin downed the champagne in his glass in one gulp, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Blow out the candles.”

With a boyish, mischievous grin, the man held the candlelit cake close to Song Yeongin’s face.

“Go on, blow.”

Song Yeongin, with a blank expression, blew out the burning candles with a soft puff.

“Thank you…”

His gentle, tender voice whispered softly to the man.

As he brushed back his wet hair, a flush spread across his small, delicate face. The man sitting by the tub caressed Song Yeongin’s damp cheek and said.

“You’re welcome… I didn’t know what you’d like, so I prepared the gifts on my own.”

“…”

“The first gift is this watch, matching mine… The second is a private studio set up at my residence for you to paint. I’ve instructed them to prepare everything from basic art supplies to the equipment you’d need for digital artwork. It should be ready by now.”

At those sudden words, Song Yeongin recalled how, in Na Hangeul’s room, he had curiously asked about digital art on the computer, pestering him to explain. Since Cha Woojin had been eavesdropping, he must have overheard that too and was now saying these things.

“How much… did you overhear that day?”

Cha Woojin replied shamelessly, his face composed.

“Everything?”

“…”

“It was different, you know? Completely different from how you are with me…”

The man’s languid, wet eyes smiled faintly.

“When you’re with that guy, you act your age. Listening to you made me so jealous I could hardly stand it. Wouldn’t it be nice if you chattered like a kid and giggled with me too?”

“…”

Song Yeongin couldn’t understand why his heart ached at the man’s bitter smile.

“It was the first time I saw you so interested in something. The first time I saw you eagerly asking someone to teach you, clinging to them like that…”

“…”

“So I thought that’s what you needed. You’ve never once told me what you wanted or asked for anything like that.”

“…”

“If there’s something you want or want to learn, I’ll make it happen. If you want to paint, I’ll keep supporting you as your patron.”

“…”

“So keep painting. Everyone says you have a natural talent.”

“…”

“To me, you’re special.”

Song Yeongin gazed silently at the man before him, the flickering candlelight reflecting in his eyes. His delicate, water-soaked eyelids blinked slowly. His slender jaw and straight shoulders trembled faintly in the chill.

For a moment, he indulged in a fleeting fantasy.

Would it be so wrong to live like this with this man? As his lover… living in his shadow—would that really be so wrong?

His heart raced, crumbling at the man’s every word, every glance. His tender words made his heart ache and throb, as if melting away. If he just closed his eyes and pretended not to care, maybe living like this…

But then Song Yeongin scolded himself, hurriedly shaking his head. What was he thinking? He couldn’t believe his own arrogance and shamelessness.

This man was about to get married soon. He would have the child he wanted, with the woman he chose. How much more sin would Song Yeongin commit by driving a dagger into the hearts of that woman and their child with his selfishness? The weight of that sin was immeasurable.

This man had already said he’d suffered significant losses to his company because of Song Yeongin, even risking his position. His presence would undoubtedly continue to be a constant obstacle to Cha Woojin.

Song Yeongin didn’t want to live an unstable life, causing harm to this man and leaving irreparable scars on his family, always fearing the day he’d be discarded. In the end, it would only lead to ruin.

For this man’s sake, and for his own, parting ways was the best choice for everyone. There was no doubt about it. Returning him to his rightful place was simply the natural order.

He was never mine to begin with.

Song Yeongin recalled Cha Woojin’s earlier words—that he would keep him by his side, even by force, even if it meant resentment for a lifetime—and he felt breathless, as if he might faint. He was ruining a perfectly good man.

He had to escape this ominous shadow, far away, before it took everything from him again, like it had before…

After a deep silence, Song Yeongin finally managed to speak to Cha Woojin.

“I’m sorry…”

Not “thank you,” but “I’m sorry.”

Cha Woojin smiled bitterly.

“Don’t like the gifts?”

His pure, ungreedy eyes were red and wet with moisture.

“No, thank you. I forgot my own birthday long ago… After my mother passed, I never thought being born was something to celebrate…”

Cha Woojin silently caressed Song Yeongin’s pale neck with his large, gentle hand. The soft, fine hairs stood up prettily.

“Really, thank you.”

“To me, you’re special.”

Those words, that he was special, felt like they would linger in his heart long after he left this man.

The man shed his robe, stepping back into the tub, his bold, naked form joining Song Yeongin.

“The third gift—I promised earlier. Spend the whole day with me, and I’ll grant whatever you want.”

“…”

Leaning back in the tub, the man closed his long eyes lazily and said.

“I told you I want to make you happy today.”

“…”

“Tell me. What do you want… I’ll make it happen.”

Song Yeongin instinctively knew this was a test.

This man, who had caught him plotting to leave and threatened to punish him, who said he’d keep him by force, wouldn’t grant a request to let him go.

Song Yeongin understood what he meant by asking him to name his desire. He wanted to hear what would come out of his mouth.

He’d said he had a way to keep him bound.

Though Song Yeongin didn’t know what that meant, being bugged and monitored by Jang Haesung wasn’t enough—now he’d surely be under even stricter 24-hour surveillance. The offer of a studio for painting was just a disguised excuse. It was a hint that he’d be neatly confined in Cha Woojin’s residence.

So, Song Yeongin had to name something realistic, something achievable right now. Something Cha Woojin, knowing everything, could overlook and let slide—a modest, practical wish.

“Let me meet Yoon Jioh alone.”

Cha Woojin, sitting beside him in the tub, narrowed his eyes sharply, as if he’d misheard, his gaze filled with suspicion.

“…What?”

“No bugs, no CCTV, no surveillance… Let me meet Yoon Jioh alone.”

“That’s… all you want?”

Song Yeongin nodded.

“Yes.”

“Tell me why. Why do you want to meet Yoon Jioh alone, in secret, without surveillance? Planning to have a little rendezvous behind my back?”

The man’s lips curved into a mischievous smirk.

“There’s something I need to ask and confirm with Director Yoon Jioh… Something I’m really curious about, related to my paintings and the priest. I don’t want even that private part of my life monitored by you… That’s all.”

“So, it’s something I absolutely shouldn’t hear?”

“I just want to talk to Yoon Jioh alone. You said you’d grant my wish. You’ll keep your promise, right?”

Cha Woojin laughed, as if in disbelief.

“I said I’d grant whatever you want, so just name it. And it’s not a house, money, a luxury car, or your success as an artist… It’s just meeting Yoon Jioh, that’s it?!”

“…”

Song Yeongin looked at Cha Woojin with earnest, resolute eyes, and Cha Woojin knew he couldn’t take back the words he’d spoken in front of those angelic, pure eyes.

His sexy, upturned lips murmured softly.

“Fine. I’ll make it happen.”

“…Thank you.”

“But know this—you haven’t finished the day you promised to spend with me.”

“…”

“Tonight, I’m not letting you sleep. Act cute like a kitten at my feet, and I’ll grant your request.”

Before he finished speaking, Cha Woojin pulled Song Yeongin onto his muscular, taut thighs in the tub. With a brazen face, he scanned Song Yeongin, kneading his plump hips. His thick, knobby finger slipped back into the soft, loosened opening.

“Ugh…! Nngh…!”

Confirming the submissive moan, the man buried his handsome face in Song Yeongin’s soft, slick chest. The erect, rosy nipples, too tempting to resist, were a beautiful shade. He took the lewd, perky nipple into his mouth, licking the faint areola with the tip of his tongue, and the opening twitched, tightly gripping his finger. Song Yeongin’s slim waist swayed. The sensitive inner walls spasmed, eagerly clenching his finger. Cha Woojin chuckled softly in a low, husky voice.

Song Yeongin yielded completely, his gentle face submitting to him. His graceful, slender waist swayed softly. Like rewarding the man embracing him, Song Yeongin pressed his lips to his. His clumsy, red lips brushed against the man’s sharp nose, making a soft smack as he kissed innocently, like a child. Each time their cheeks and skin brushed, the man’s cool scent sent a shiver through his heart.

Song Yeongin slid his arms around Cha Woojin’s strong, broad shoulders in the water. The provocative, hard muscles under his fingertips felt like they exposed his own irreverence, and until now, he’d only pushed him away.

But in this moment, Song Yeongin didn’t push him away. He felt every inch of the man’s powerful body with his skin, embracing him deeply. The sharply defined abs, broad and thick chest, muscularly carved back, and obscenely deep iliac groove—Song Yeongin’s hands fearlessly traced every part of the man’s robust physique. Instantly, the man’s center hardened, growing erect and swelling.

At first, he thought he had to forget him.

But he didn’t want to forget this dreamlike memory of today. Just for himself… if he could secretly hold onto it and live with it. He would never forget this man. He wanted to remember him as long as possible with his fingertips.

His white hand gently caressed the man’s large, handsome ear. With a trembling touch, he stroked the perfectly symmetrical, striking face. Slowly, he traced the sharp, handsome lines, as if engraving them. Those deep, jet-black eyes that always took him back to the first day they met…

The man’s gaze pierced through him.

“What’s your game?”

The man’s breathing grew rougher under Song Yeongin’s fluttering touch. Cha Woojin, exhaling heavily, whispered in a low voice near his ear.

“…Haa, you’re acting cute to get my attention, aren’t you?”

His sharp, chiseled face descended to Song Yeongin’s chest, burying itself in his fiercely beating heart, kissing the pulsing heart sharply.

Cha Woojin chuckled softly, as if amused. His low voice laughed against Song Yeongin’s chest, shattering his heart into pieces.

Unable to bear it, Song Yeongin tightly embraced the man’s face buried in his chest.

“Yeah, don’t stop. Keep going. That’s how I’ll pretend to let it slide.”