Humanity Chapter 1.1 - Secret

“You will observe the interview from inside. Please wait here for a moment.”

The impatient-looking secretary spoke to Yimyeong.

“He will arrive shortly.”

He checked his watch. A cold glint of metallic texture briefly flashed from beneath his jacket.

And the man said nothing more. The ensuing silence felt profoundly awkward, so Yimyeong, casting his gaze in a meaningless direction, moistened his dry lips.

It seemed he was the only one being interviewed today. The empty lobby was flooded with the intense midday sunlight pouring through the gallery’s large windows onto Yimyeong’s back. The cheap suit he had hastily prepared for the interview shimmered in the direction of the light.

Yimyeong was quietly examining the texture of his clothing when a loud engine roar echoed from a distance.

Turning around, he saw a car entering the parking lot entrance. It was a pitch-black sports car, as if swallowing the midday sunlight whole. The music blaring from inside the car reverberated loudly outside. A faint hint of curiosity flickered in Yimyeong’s eyes as he looked at the thug-like car intruding into the refined gallery.

“Wait here.”

The secretary, having said this, hurriedly headed toward the parking lot.

It occurred to Yimyeong that the interviewer for today was likely in that car. He had imagined the gallery director as an older man or a cultured middle-aged woman, but the car he had just seen didn’t quite match that image.

Oh well.

Yimyeong stood in the lobby for about twenty minutes afterward. Though the gallery’s interior was cool, standing under direct sunlight gradually caused sweat to bead on his neck.

He was rubbing the back of his neck with dry palms when the secretary finally reappeared from inside.

“You may go in now.”

With those words, the tension that had loosened surged back up to his throat.

“The director is inside the exhibition hall.”

Yimyeong headed toward the entrance the secretary indicated. Exhibition Hall 1. Passing through the entrance with a black sign, his footsteps echoed in the corridor, creating a resonance. The space was entirely white, bathed in lighting that blurred the boundaries between ceiling, walls, and floor.

Emerging from the ambiguous corridor, the space suddenly opened up, revealing a high-ceilinged area.

Pausing, Yimyeong took in the vast exhibition hall. From the gallery’s lobby to this hall, it felt like a sequence of places detached from reality. It was as if he had stepped into another world.

And in the middle of the exhibition hall stood a man, facing a massive black wall.

“Lee Yimyeong?”

The pale-faced man turned around.

A sleek face, starkly contrasting the black wall, looked toward him. His narrow, unsmiling eyes scrutinized Yimyeong thoroughly. Standing still, Yimyeong realized only then that he should have greeted first.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Lee Yimyeong? Yi—myeong? That’s an unusual name.”

The man raised a hand from his pocket and gestured. It meant to come closer. Despite wearing a perfectly tailored suit that clung to his slender frame, an effortless lightness emanated from him.

The “director” had an appearance entirely unexpected. He seemed to be Yimyeong’s age or perhaps even younger. Glancing around instinctively, the man spoke as if he knew exactly what Yimyeong was thinking.

“That’s me.”

The voice that slipped from his thin lips was surprisingly low.

Yimyeong stopped about a meter away. The man gestured again. Yimyeong took a couple more steps. He was now under a spotlight, and it was dazzling.

“Part your hair. Show your forehead.”

Yimyeong did as instructed.

“Turn your head to the left. Now to the right.”

The man said with a slight smile.

“Your resume photo isn’t great.”

As Yimyeong lowered his hand, his hair fell back over his forehead.

“You look much better in person.”

The man approached Yimyeong, still carrying a bag on his back. Stepping out of the direct light, the contours of his face became more vivid. His cheeks and neck were flawlessly smooth, and his drawn lips revealed an undeniable elasticity.

Yimyeong’s mind was still quietly turbulent. The man before him seemed far too young to own such a grand gallery. No, not just young—he seemed almost boyish.

If someone had said he made a living off his looks, Yimyeong would have believed it. More crassly, he had the face of someone who could pass as the lover of a wealthy patron frequenting such a gallery.

“How old was it? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

Regardless, the man before him had offered a salary Yimyeong could never have dreamed of. So, despite the confusion, he tried to remain calm and align with the man’s intentions. Yimyeong answered steadily.

“Twenty-four.”

“Whoa, older than me.”

His face lit up like an excited child. Yimyeong remained silent.

“I prefer older guys.”

“…….”

“Your resume says you’ve only done menial jobs so far.”

“That’s about right.”

“You must have had better opportunities. You could’ve lived off that handsome face.”

Yimyeong didn’t react much. Explaining his difficult family circumstances to a silver-spoon employer felt futile. It was true that, since his teens, he had bounced from one part-time job to another, taking whatever came his way after high school graduation. He had been too busy earning money to afford the luxury of weighing which jobs paid better.

Still, he had lived diligently and earnestly, but the result, as the man said, was a string of unimpressive jobs.

“Anything else?”

“What do you mean…”

“Anything not on your resume.”

At those words, Yimyeong instinctively moistened his lips.

There was something he hadn’t included.

His throat felt dry. Ignoring it, Yimyeong calmly shook his head.

“Like a criminal record.”

“None.”

“Really? I have one.”

It was a voice that blurred the line between jest and truth. The man was grinning, his eyes curving.

“We’ll be working together, so let’s be honest with each other. That’s why I’m telling you upfront.”

“…Yes.”

“Would you be okay protecting someone with a criminal record?”

The man stepped closer, tilting his head until he was inches from Yimyeong’s face. His whisper, so close that Yimyeong could see the texture of his eyebrows, sent a chill down his spine.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“My employer’s personal morality isn’t for me to judge.”

The man chuckled softly, as if pleased with the answer.

In truth, Yimyeong didn’t care about the man’s past criminal record, if it existed. His only concern was passing this interview and securing the high salary to pay off his debts.

The man stopped laughing, a smile lingering as he stared intently at Yimyeong. Though typical for an interview, the overly scrutinizing gaze felt awkward to endure. Yimyeong had already given up on meeting his eyes and was vaguely staring at his jawline.

“Sorry. Am I staring too much?”

“No.”

“My taste is a bit particular. I have an eye for aesthetics, but few things catch my eye.”

The man said with a satisfied expression.

“You have to look at beautiful things for a long time. A long time…”

Yimyeong didn’t respond. He genuinely didn’t know how to. Besides, in his twenty-four years, no one had ever called him “beautiful” to his face.

“You’re not here on someone’s orders, are you?”

“No.”

Yimyeong felt his response was weak. He considered adding something, but there was no way to prove a negative.

At the same time, a suspicion crossed his mind. If this wasn’t a joke, did it mean such a thing had happened before?

It was possible. The immense wealth at such a young age, plus the need for a private bodyguard, suggested a life full of unimaginable events.

“Are you always this quiet?”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Hmm…”

The man turned slowly and began walking. When Yimyeong remained still, he stopped abruptly, glanced back over his shoulder, and motioned with his chin to follow.

“It’s better to be quiet. I like people who aren’t good with words. Talkative people tend to lack patience.”

Pondering the connection between speech and patience, Yimyeong followed him.

The man’s airy demeanor was offset by a serious posture. His long legs were matched by a notably solid torso. The broad shoulders and firm chest gave an impression of strength. His hands in his pockets, the relaxed angle of his bent arms, and his leisurely, wide-strided walk felt weighty.

The man walked to the far wall of the exhibition hall and stopped.

“But I don’t like people with too many secrets. I prefer things simple. Clear and straightforward…”

“…….”

“You don’t seem like a complicated person, Yimyeong. Am I right?”

The man turned. The moment his hazel eyes pierced Yimyeong, he froze.

Secrets. The word hit him heavily in the gut.

Yimyeong was momentarily speechless. But this was just a suspicious interviewer’s probing question. There was no need to react as if he had to confess everything. Shaking off his thoughts, he said:

“I’ll behave well and cause no trouble.”

“Hmm…”

The man’s eyes curved.

“I like your answer, but maybe it’s because I liked you from the start.”

He pointed to his side, indicating for Yimyeong to stand beside him.

Standing next to him, Yimyeong saw the massive black wall he had noticed earlier.

“What do you think of that painting?”

He asked.

Yimyeong tensed slightly, trying to discern both the painting’s intent and his employer’s. But in truth, he couldn’t even tell what it depicted. The only paintings he understood were still lifes or landscapes, where the purpose was clear.

So what was the purpose of this painting? Perhaps it depicted an illusion or shadow…

After much thought, Yimyeong answered honestly.

“I don’t know.”

The man gave a short laugh at the brief response.

“I bought it recently.”

“…….”

“It’s a repulsive painting. Disgusting… The most disgusting thing is its dishonesty. It’s expressed indirectly, but it’s already been found out.”

The man, delivering a scathing critique, looked at Yimyeong’s profile.

“But that’s why I wanted it.”

Yimyeong gave up trying to understand the man who would be his employer. He couldn’t fathom the logic of wanting something because it was repulsive.

“Everyone has secrets they can’t tell. Secrets are meant to be hidden, but strangely, sometimes you want to share them with someone. People live craving someone they can be honest with. This artist is the same, hiding a secret in the painting, hoping someone will read the message while pretending otherwise. That’s what’s disgusting. It’s full of contradictions.”

Yimyeong realized the man deeply disliked dishonesty.

That pricked his conscience.

“I liked you from the moment I saw your resume photo. Honestly.”

“…Oh.”

The man approached and patted Yimyeong’s shoulder encouragingly. His grip was stronger than expected.

Didn’t he say the photo wasn’t great?

“Criminal or sent by someone… I don’t care. That’s how much I like you.”

His hand, leaving Yimyeong’s shoulder, brushed the front of his jacket. The deliberate pressure of his fingers was felt through the layers, lingering near the curve of his chest, particularly around his nipple.

Was it a mistake? But before Yimyeong could shake off his surprise, the man was already walking away.

“See you soon. I’ll buy you a drink.”

‧₊˚

After the strange interview, Yimyeong easily received a job offer.

The call came from the cold-mannered secretary he met on the first day.

“As stated in the job posting, lodging and meals will be provided at the director’s residence. It’s near the gallery, so it won’t be hard to find. Bring only the essentials when you come… The bodyguard duties prioritize the director’s schedule 24/7, so there are no fixed commuting hours…”

The secretary delivered the information clearly and asked if Yimyeong had questions. When he quietly said “None,” the call ended.

Done.

That was the extent of his feelings. There was no overwhelming sense of achievement.

The young director’s promise to “buy a drink” didn’t seem to be a lie.

Perhaps because the interview space and process felt so unreal, it seemed like he’d never return once he left. It was like wearing ill-fitting clothes and glimpsing an unfamiliar world.

But somehow, it worked out.

Yimyeong looked around his cramped room.

The rented room he shared with his mother was where they’d lived since before his father’s passing. The kitchen was right by the entrance, with only one separate room, making privacy impossible. With their belongings and household items tangled together, his leaving would at least let his mother live more comfortably.

Eating a late dinner with his mother after her work, Yimyeong mentioned his acceptance, saying, “It worked out.” He had occasionally left for months to work at construction sites in the provinces, so leaving for a job wasn’t new. But his mother always sighed as if it were the first time, filled with concern.

Fearing she’d apologize, Yimyeong quickly added that the workplace had a good environment and a high salary. Knowing why her quiet son kept talking, his mother said no more.

A few days later, Yimyeong left with minimal belongings.

The new workplace was in central Seoul but felt isolated. He took a bus from Jongno to Pyeongchang-dong, then climbed a steep hill for about ten minutes from the stop. Battling the sweltering heat, he arrived at a mansion with walls so high the interior was invisible. The entrance was so discreetly blended with the walls that it was an unwelcoming structure.

Yimyeong paced around, struggling to find the entrance.

After finally locating the doorbell, his back was slightly damp with sweat. When the door opened, a middle-aged man in a simple suit appeared. Introducing himself as the butler, he led Yimyeong inside.

“Come this way.”

Yimyeong’s gaze was drawn to the building inside the walls. Unlike the stark walls, the building had a sophisticated design unlike anything he’d seen. It resembled a gallery more than a house.

“We usually stay on the first floor or in the annex. Over there are the rooms for the housekeepers, and this is the staff lounge. There’s a staff passageway to the annex, so you can move freely between the main building and the annex. My room is closest to the main building’s living room. Down the corridor… your room is in the annex, Yimyeong.”

Yimyeong looked at the end of the corridor the butler pointed to. Beyond a sunlit glass corridor crossing the garden, a dim door was tucked away.

“Rest today. Secretary Choi will explain more when he arrives.”

“Yes.”

Yimyeong bowed in thanks and stepped into the corridor. Dust and particles danced in the bright light streaming through the glass. The house embraced the sun fully, meaning its owner didn’t care about seasons, temperature, or humidity when building it.

The indoor temperature and humidity were perfect, untouched by the outside heat. Yimyeong’s slightly sweat-dampened white shirt was already drying.

Opening the annex door, he found a room like a small hotel suite. The furniture included a single bed, slightly small for an adult man, a small desk, and a chair.

But he liked the separate bathroom, the large window, and the view of the garden beyond. The window, at eye level and horizontally long, felt like a canvas.

Yimyeong turned on the air conditioner and cautiously lay on the bed. It was so comfortable that a weary sigh escaped him.

“Haa…”

Since middle school, he hadn’t slept on a bed with both a frame and mattress. Blinking, Yimyeong stared at the clean, flawless ceiling, unlike the rented room he shared with his mother.

For the next few days, Yimyeong was left alone to the point of wondering if it was okay. According to Secretary Choi, his employer had left for an urgent family matter in the provinces the morning Yimyeong arrived.

“We’ll talk when the director returns.”

He was told to rest like it was his own home until the director returned, but it could never feel like home. Being neglected yet feeling watched was odd. Once, after jogging, he returned to find the butler anxiously looking for him. Realizing he shouldn’t leave without permission, he stayed quietly in his room.

Yimyeong remained in a state of slight tension, guarding the annex. Occasionally, he encountered housekeepers in the lounge, but they’d bow and leave when he tried to greet them. Feeling like an outsider, he gave up trying to fit into the community.

Perhaps that’s why he felt oddly glad when someone knocked on his door.

It was the seventh day since arriving at the mansion. Deep in the night.

Half-asleep, Yimyeong’s ears caught the clear sound of knocking.

“Hmm…”

Lifting heavy eyelids, he squinted at the moonlight seeping through the window, revealing a tall silhouette leaning against the door. Blinking slowly, Yimyeong bolted upright seconds later.

“Direc…tor.”

“Director? I’m Han Jiwan. Call me Jiwan.”

The man leaning against the door smiled. He was in a pristine suit, visibly exhausted.

Yimyeong fumbled around the bed to find his phone.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh…”

Having slept with the air conditioner on, he felt a slight chill. Yimyeong rubbed his exposed forearms under his white T-shirt and tried to get up.

“Did you just arrive?”

“Yeah. I felt like having a drink.”

Wondering if any bars would be open at this hour, Yimyeong prepared to carry out his first bodyguard duty without complaint.

“Wait a moment, I’ll change and come out.”

“You’re fine as you are.”

Han Jiwan said, openly scanning Yimyeong from head to toe. Yimyeong was wearing a plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, an utterly unremarkable combination.

“We’re not going anywhere. Let’s drink at the bar here.”

Han Jiwan pointed his thumb toward the upper floor of the annex.

“Let’s go.”

Yimyeong followed him silently.

This was his first personal encounter with his young boss. Though slightly nervous, there was also a sense of relief, perhaps because Han Jiwan was the only familiar face in this silent mansion.

Han Jiwan, hands in his pockets, climbed the stairs to the second floor. Yimyeong, who had no intention of wandering the house freely, was stepping onto these stairs for the first time.

Upon reaching the second floor, a bar as well-equipped as any commercial establishment came into view. Soft lighting poured over a long marble home bar, and countless wine glasses hung upside down, reflecting light in the darkness. The front and sides were packed with an assortment of liquors and wines.

“What do you think? Nice enough to bring someone you want to impress.”

Yimyeong nodded silently and sat on a chair. Though reserved by nature, he was quickly captivated by the bar’s details, never having imagined such a setup in a private home.

“Do you drink well?”

“I can hold my own.”

“Then I’ll give you something strong.”

Han Jiwan said. His playful tone made Yimyeong unconsciously let a small smile creep onto his face. Fresh from sleep, Yimyeong’s expression carried a relaxed ease not present during the interview.

Han Jiwan, quietly observing Yimyeong, licked his thin lips.

“…What were you dreaming about earlier, hyung?”

Startled by the word “hyung,” Yimyeong rubbed the back of his neck.

“What? I didn’t dream…”

“Do you sleep deeply? Like you wouldn’t notice if someone carried you off?”

“I suppose so.”

“Lucky you. I’m sensitive.”

“…….”

“Drink.”

A small glass was placed in front of Yimyeong. The liquid started with a deep orange hue at the bottom, gradually fading to a transparent shade. Though he had chugged soju without snacks at construction sites, Yimyeong hesitated at being served a fancy cocktail by his boss.

“Are you… drinking too, Director?”

“I told you to call me Jiwan.”

He’d heard Han Jiwan was two years younger than him. Han Jiwan jokingly called him “hyung,” but Yimyeong knew he shouldn’t reciprocate. It was obvious. This was his boss. Keeping distance was normal.

But Han Jiwan clicked his tongue, as if displeased by the slight distance, making Yimyeong feel like he was sitting on thorns.

All Yimyeong could do was drink the liquor offered. Han Jiwan closely watched as Yimyeong brought the clear glass to his lips, the liquid sliding down his throat, his lips glistening, and his Adam’s apple bobbing. Feeling an unspoken pressure, Yimyeong downed the drink in one go.

Setting the glass down with a clink, Han Jiwan grinned and said, “Good job.”

Yimyeong found Han Jiwan increasingly uncomfortable. Though young, he exuded an authoritative air. It was the innate confidence of someone who had never hit rock bottom and believed he never would.

“I don’t usually do this. Acting friendly with employees. No need for it. No reward either.”

“Then…”

“I’m doing it because it’s you, hyung.”

“…….”

“Because I like you?”

Yimyeong gave up trying to keep up with Han Jiwan’s intentions or pace. It felt pointless to even try.

He’d had similar thoughts during the interview.

“Are you always so stiff?”

“People say I’m boring.”

“The formal speech is annoying, but it’s cute, so I’ll let it slide.”

“…….”

“Did you put something on your lips?”

“Nothing…”

By the fourth glass, Yimyeong realized he was the only one drinking. This amount wouldn’t get him drunk, but he needed to stay sharp. Getting drunk in front of his employer would be disastrous.

“Am I the only one curious about you? We’ll be together 24/7 from now on. Don’t you have any questions about me?”

Yimyeong fell silent for a moment.

Of course, he had a mountain of questions. How did he have so much money at his age? Was he an illegitimate heir of a conglomerate? Why did he need a private bodyguard? And then he recalled something from the interview. Han Jiwan had mentioned having a criminal record.

That thought prompted a question to slip out.

“What was the charge?”

“Hm?”

“Your criminal record.”

Han Jiwan froze, then burst into laughter.

“Hahaha!”

Yimyeong watched him quietly. Han Jiwan, eyes curved with amusement, spoke cheerfully.

“I won’t tell you. I want to score points with you. What if you think I’m a lunatic?”

“…….”

He seemed oddly coy.

Shaking off his absurd misconception, Yimyeong stared at the glass in front of him. The rim started to blur slightly when he relaxed his eyes. Rubbing his face to ease the fatigue didn’t help.

Moreover, he had asked something he normally wouldn’t. Asking his boss about a criminal record was proof the alcohol was affecting him.

He needed to stop drinking.

But another glass appeared before him. It held a deep amber liquid with a large, round ice cube. It looked like strong liquor.

“I’ll… switch to water now.”

“Hyung, you said you could handle your liquor.”

“Yes. Still, in moderation…”

“Fair enough. It is strong. You’ve held up well.”

Han Jiwan reached out and rudely poked Yimyeong’s cheek. It wasn’t a hit or a jab—just a brush of his thumb, feeling the skin. Startled, Yimyeong instinctively raised a hand to cover his cheek. Han Jiwan chuckled, as if finding the frozen Yimyeong amusing.

“Hyung, I’m being rude, and you’re not mad?”

“You… seem drunk.”

“Nah. I haven’t had a single drink, unlike someone.”

Yimyeong’s eyes wavered. A strange unease gripped him. A boss offering drinks at three in the morning, pushing him to get drunk, wasn’t normal.

“Hyung, you’re not clueless about why I’m acting like this, are you?”

“What are you talking about…”

“Normally, a guy would get pissed if someone acts this weird… It’s annoying.”

Han Jiwan’s hand reached out again. This time, his thumb brushed Yimyeong’s exposed neck near the carotid artery, making his body stiffen.

“But you’re just nervous?”

Before Yimyeong could process the words, he fell to the floor with a thud, chair and all.

‧₊˚

Where did it go wrong?

Yimyeong struggled to focus on the man before him through his blurry vision. The light seemed to ripple, almost like a halo around Han Jiwan.

To shake off the escapist thoughts, Yimyeong shook his head meaninglessly.

Then a large hand grabbed his chin and lightly slapped his cheek.

A cold hand.

“Boring. Drinking alone and getting drunk alone. You just got hired—how can you be this sloppy?”

“Sorry…”

“Did I make it too easy? Do I look like a pushover because I’m young? Huh? Haha.”

The words snapped him awake, but willpower alone wasn’t enough. Yimyeong mumbled another apology, trying to pull himself together. It was strange. He wasn’t usually this weak with alcohol.

His attempt to stand failed as his head drooped, and his staggering body was caught by Han Jiwan. A crushed floral scent hit him—Han Jiwan’s cologne.

“Man, you’re high-maintenance. Who’s supporting who here? Are you really a bodyguard, hyung?”

Han Jiwan whispered. Goosebumps rose where his breath touched.

An alarm seemed to blare in Yimyeong’s head.

Carefully pushing Han Jiwan’s support away, Yimyeong leaned against the wall. After a deep breath, he could stand on his own, barely.

“Sorry… I can walk alone. Just give me a moment.”

Yimyeong said, rubbing his face with trembling hands.

“I’ll pull myself together.”

A short laugh escaped Han Jiwan.

Ignoring him, Yimyeong closed his eyes and leaned against the wall to stop the spinning hallucination. He was usually good with alcohol. His body metabolized it quickly, sobering up after a short rest. He hoped it would be the same this time, taking deep breaths.

Maybe this was another test.

Yimyeong had already sensed Han Jiwan’s eccentricity throughout their conversation. A spoiled rich kid, perhaps. To the inflexible Yimyeong, he was a difficult person to handle.

‘I shouldn’t have drunk, no matter how much he offered…’

But it was a tough call. There was no middle ground between following his employer’s request and overstepping boundaries. He also worried that a rash judgment could jeopardize his job. After all, this was his first real meeting with his employer since the interview.

“Just kidding, kidding.”

Han Jiwan suddenly spoke softly, patting Yimyeong’s shoulder.

“Did I scare you? You got all formal all of a sudden.”

“…….”

“You weren’t like that earlier, hyung.”

The word “hyung” no longer felt welcome. Yimyeong stared at Han Jiwan with unfocused eyes.

Employer or not, Yimyeong resolved to be more cautious after tonight to avoid crossing lines, moistening his dry lips. Han Jiwan stared intently at those lips as they glistened and dried.

“Sorry.”

“Hmm… Fine. Want to drink more?”

Yimyeong bit his lower lip and shook his head. His vision still wouldn’t focus.

“No. I mean… You probably have a schedule tomorrow.”

“I’ll let you rest, hyung.”

“Sorry.”

“Hyung, you’re great, but… how many times are you going to apologize? It’s getting annoying.”

Yimyeong stopped mid-apology, and Han Jiwan’s expression softened instantly. His eyes curved like waves, and he laughed heartily, clearly amused.

Unable to predict his actions, Yimyeong felt cold sweat on his neck.

Han Jiwan acted high-handedly while pretending to be friendly. If he were blatantly dismissive, Yimyeong could brush it off, but dealing with someone like Han Jiwan kept him on edge.

“So, can you make it to your room alone?”

Han Jiwan stepped closer, his breath again palpable. The sharp floral scent of his cologne hit Yimyeong, disorienting him. No matter how much he breathed, the alcohol wouldn’t fade.

“Sleep in my room.”

With nowhere to retreat against the wall, Yimyeong stiffly faced Han Jiwan, who was now inches away. Blinking slowly, he saw Han Jiwan’s bright hazel irises.

That’s why his presence felt so distinct.

In a sudden realization, Yimyeong felt a large hand grab his ear and hair at once. Fingers dug through his hair, cold fingertips pressing against his scalp, pulling his head lightly.

“Hmm…”

Han Jiwan, lightly biting Yimyeong’s lips, let out a low moan. Was it a dream, or was the alcohol still clouding his mind? Yimyeong froze, blinking. The bright hazel irises vanished under his eyelids, replaced by faint, long eyelashes.

If this wasn’t a dream, Han Jiwan was kissing him.

Yimyeong raised a hand to grab his wrist and push him away. A fleeting sense of clarity felt like a trick as he flailed several times before catching Han Jiwan’s wrist. But no matter how he pulled, the fingers in his hair wouldn’t budge.

Stimulated by the futile resistance, Han Jiwan opened his eyes. Staring closely, he slowly rubbed their touching lips. He nibbled Yimyeong’s plump lower lip with his front teeth or teased it with the tip of his tongue. It was a light kiss, not touching the inner tongue, but it didn’t feel playful. It was like standing before a predator licking its prey’s fur.

“Your lips are something else.”

“…….”

“I just had a taste. No harm in that, right?”

No harm? It was a statement that casually shattered common sense.

Yimyeong’s eyes wavered.

“I’ll… I’ll head back.”

Spilling uncharacteristic urgency, Yimyeong pushed Han Jiwan’s shoulder.

“Whoa.”

Han Jiwan was pushed back easily. As the pressure lifted, Yimyeong turned immediately. But before he could take two steps, he crashed to the floor with a thud.

“Ugh…!”

His shoulder and knee stung from the impact, but the pain felt dulled by the alcohol.

“Heh…”

Han Jiwan, who had tripped him, laughed from behind. Realizing this, Yimyeong bit his lip and looked back.

Hands in his pockets, Han Jiwan strolled over and stood over Yimyeong. Looking down leisurely, he met Yimyeong’s gaze, who shouted instinctively.

“Director!”

Han Jiwan shamelessly brushed off the gritted outburst.

“Why’re you calling me?”

“This, this kind of prank…”

A long scream echoed in his head. The thought that he was overreacting clashed with the fear that something unwanted might actually happen. The biggest problem was that his body still wouldn’t obey. Instead of improving, it grew heavier.

Then Yimyeong realized the drink might not have been just alcohol.

What if this was all planned?

“Hyung, I’m a really honest guy. I can’t live hiding things.”

“…….”

“So I’ll be straight. I’m a gay bastard.”

Han Jiwan crouched down.

“And a hopeless pervert.”

His eyes, curved with amusement, gleamed as if he were thrilled. As they drew closer, Yimyeong was gripped by fear. From the interview to this drinking session, he’d been watched with those eyes. Denying it was just his desperate, naive hope not to lose this job.

“But when I’m honest, guys run away. Why doesn’t anyone understand me… Sigh, even my dad doesn’t get me, and it’s heartbreaking.”

Twisting to crawl away, Yimyeong was easily caught by Han Jiwan’s long legs, which pinned his waist. Hands still in his pockets, he exuded nonchalance.

Slowly sitting, Han Jiwan knelt near Yimyeong’s waist. The feeling of being pinned fueled his revulsion.

“Knew you’d look prettier from above.”

Before Yimyeong could resist, Han Jiwan leaned in, yanking his T-shirt up, making his back arch.

“Ah!”

The cold hand brushing his nipple and rubbing his chest sent shivers through him. Ignoring Yimyeong’s bristling reaction, Han Jiwan spread the shirt wide, admiring his body.

“Wow… Looks good.”

Han Jiwan, firmly pinning his waist, smacked his lips. He slowly explored the taut muscles over Yimyeong’s well-built frame, sliding his palm broadly. Seeing Han Jiwan’s humorless eyes, Yimyeong felt true fear.

“Why’re you shaking? I’ve got good manners.”

“Ngh, don’t… don’t do this…”

“Every word you say just turns me on. I love it when you resist.”