Yang’s Master Chapter 0

The basement smelled of the things Yang Euijoo hated most. It was a filthy smell, a mix of dampness and mold. A moist, musty odor filled the air. Whenever he huddled in the room, he was tormented by the nightmare of being trapped in the very bottom of the ship again. However, this basement was, without a doubt, a worse place than the ship where Yang Euijoo had lived for the twenty-three years of his life. At least on the ship, he could see the rising sun and the vast ocean.

What rotten luck. Yang Euijoo curled his body into a ball, clad only in a shabby, threadbare shirt. It was too cold here. He couldn’t even sleep properly because of the chills. Every time he let out a cough, he could feel a painful coldness push deep into his lungs. Yang Euijoo coughed out a series of air-filled coughs, counting silently to himself. When he had counted to 28,001, the iron-barred door, which could not be opened from the inside, creaked open with a spine-chilling sound.

If his counting was somewhat accurate, it was a face he was seeing again in less than eight hours. Unlike Yang Euijoo, who hadn’t slept a wink, lost in counting, Cheon Yeomyeong was dressed impeccably today as well. Black dress shoes, suit trousers, a shirt and tie, a vest and a jacket… His black hair was neatly styled and swept back, and his golden eyes held a subtle glow. Cheon Yeomyeong looked like a devout clergyman who had come to the basement to hear the confession of a fallen sinner. Even though Yang Euijoo knew his entire life was far removed from that of a clergyman.

Walking inside without a word, Cheon Yeomyeong kicked at the cheek of Yang Euijoo, who was lying crumpled on the floor like a piece of trash. Thwack. It was a humiliating act, but Yang Euijoo didn’t get particularly angry or upset about such things.

In any case, from the moment he entered the basement, Yang Euijoo had lost the will to resist and simply tilted his gaze upward from where he lay. The man, whose perfectly handsome face showed no sense of awkwardness even when being looked up at from below, was just now putting on a pair of gloves.

As if he felt Yang Euijoo’s gaze, Cheon Yeomyeong asked nonchalantly as he pulled on his gloves.

“Did you sleep well?”

In this dark basement, the only things that resembled the light of the outside world were Cheon Yeomyeong’s eyes. Yang Euijoo looked at the small golden glint with eyes so swollen he could only half-open them and replied.

“No.”

“That’s a shame.”

Cheon Yeomyeong, who had offered his condolences in a voice devoid of any emotion, pulled a chair over and sat down in front of Yang Euijoo. A brief silence followed. Yang Euijoo never had anything he wanted to say to him, and Cheon Yeomyeong, on the contrary, always had so many things to ask that he had to carefully select his questions.

Yang Euijoo counted the number of times Cheon Yeomyeong, who had crossed his long legs, tapped the tip of his foot. Thirty-one, thirty-two. Some time passed like that.

“What were we supposed to start with today, I wonder?”

The question that finally began the session was, for all the time it took, remarkably shabby and perfunctory. Instead of being sarcastic with the man, Yang Euijoo answered calmly.

“I don’t remember.”

“How foolish.”

Cheon Yeomyeong sneered softly and scoffed. He rested his elbow on the armrest of the chair, propped his chin on his hand, and gazed at the pale face before him. It seemed the man was trying to hide it, but the sound of his breathing was unusual.

His fever had started the day before yesterday and still hadn’t broken. He should have been begging for medicine or water, but Yang Euijoo was enduring it with a stubborn tenacity. Then again, it was that stubbornness that was so attractive, that had made him fall for him. The way he screamed in defiance, as if refusing to break even when faced with something terrifying, was what he had liked. He also liked that his face was quite pretty, that his body was sensitive as if tailored to his tastes, and that he would become honest while sobbing his eyes out.

I thought this time it might last for a while…

Thinking it was a pity, Cheon Yeomyeong briefly closed his eyes. In his memory, his lover was chattering away about something in annoyance, his grey hair fluttering. Back then, the two of them had faced each other on fairly equal footing. Cheon Yeomyeong had been considerate, allowing Yang Euijoo to do whatever he pleased. He had even laughed when Yang Euijoo sometimes drank and spoke informally to him. He had pestered him, wanting to hear him whine, had acted cute, and if necessary, had even taken business losses for him.

But what on earth had Yang Euijoo been so dissatisfied about… Cheon Yeomyeong still couldn’t understand.

“Is it just your nature to only be satisfied when you’re rolling around in filth on the floor?”

Cheon Yeomyeong threw out the question, but Yang Euijoo didn’t answer. Cheon Yeomyeong hadn’t really expected a reply either. He took a cigarette from his inner jacket pocket, placed it between his lips, and struck a match. He took a drag from the cigarette, then blew out the smoke and ran his fingers through his dark black hair, which had been swept back to reveal his forehead, disheveling it.

The golden eyes, hidden between strands of black hair, glinted sinisterly before slowly dimming.

“What do I have to say to get a reaction out of my lover, I wonder…”

At Cheon Yeomyeong’s murmur, Yang Euijoo scoffed. If locking one’s lover in a basement and torturing him was this man’s way of dating, then Yang Euijoo would break up with him a thousand times over. No, on the very day he met Cheon Yeomyeong, he would have left Hong Kong by any means necessary. He would have never once trusted or relied on him.

“Right.”

Cheon Yeomyeong leaned down, moving closer to Yang Euijoo, and formed a smile with his eyes.

“Shall I tell you what time it is?”

Hah. Yang Euijoo gasped for air, laughing as if he were panting. It was a miserable laugh.

“Whether the sun has risen, or set…”

“……”

“Aren’t you curious how much time has passed since that day, what the weather is like?”

Taking another deep drag of his cigarette, the man’s eyes scanned over Yang Euijoo. His breathing was rough and unstable. The basement’s conditions were poor; he might have contracted pneumonia. He had received warnings several times that the patient should be moved because of the poor environment of the basement, but Cheon Yeomyeong did not change Yang Euijoo’s location. This was from the conviction that for a lover who hated small, stuffy places, there was no place more perfectly suited than this room.

In any case, a doctor is on standby, so I just need to save him before he dies. It would be better to handle him if he were a little more fragile. No, there are probably guys who prefer that sort of thing…

While lost in such thoughts, converting a person into a monetary value, a hoarse voice mixed with the sound of a cough reached Cheon Yeomyeong’s ear. It was a mumble, similar to the sound of a matchstick that had fallen to the floor and was instantly extinguished. Cheon Yeomyeong held the cigarette to his lips and looked at Yang Euijoo.

“I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

“…Please, tell me.”

Yang Euijoo begged, his face a picture of utter misery. Cheon Yeomyeong sneered. It was cute, in a way, seeing him trying so hard to figure out the time that had passed by counting, all while being locked in a basement without even knowing if the sun had risen or set. Even though it was impossible for Yang Euijoo to see the sun or the moon just by knowing whether it was day or night.

However, Cheon Yeomyeong decided to be generous. He kicked Yang Euijoo’s legs apart with his foot. Yang Euijoo squeezed his eyes shut, his thighs now exposed. His body, clad in only a single ill-fitting shirt, was frozen cold, but Cheon Yeomyeong paid him no mind. A frightened panting was mixed in with his labored breathing. It seemed he was well-trained in anticipating what would happen and waiting for it, so why was he so slow with everything else?

Cheon Yeomyeong clicked his tongue at his lover’s slow learning ability and caressed the inside of a soft thigh with his gloved hand. When he pressed down with his fingers, a red handprint was left on the firm thigh. After a moment of thought, Cheon Yeomyeong called out to Yang Euijoo.

“Euijoo-ya.”

Yang Euijoo opened the eyes he had kept closed. This, too, was the result of training. When his name was called, if he didn’t look at Cheon Yeomyeong properly, he would be punished horribly. A person’s pride is easily dulled in the face of pain.

“Shall we kiss?”

At the sweet proposal, Yang Euijoo suppressed the throbbing pain in his lungs and pushed himself up. He did not say no. He had already said that word so many times that he felt his tongue would wear away if he said it one more time.

Yang Euijoo parted his lips slightly and obediently pressed his mouth against the man who was anticipating his good behavior. A wet, deep kiss began almost immediately. Separate from his hatred and disgust for Cheon Yeomyeong, Yang Euijoo knew well that in these moments, it was better to just concentrate on the kiss, whether he liked it or not.

Feeling the golden eyes scrutinizing his every detail, he pressed his lips with all his might. As he did, he clenched his hands, which were tied behind his back. Soon, a hot and terrible pain shot through his thigh. It was a familiar pain he had felt many times, yet it was still hard to bear.

“Ugh…”

Tears streamed from Yang Euijoo’s eyes and fell. Only after seeing him frozen stiff and trembling, unable to do anything properly, did the man pull his lips away and curve them into a beautiful smile.

“It’s nighttime, Euijoo-ya.”

He whispered in his ear.

“The full moon has already risen.”

On the day Yang Euijoo betrayed Cheon Yeomyeong, a full moon had been hanging in the sky.