Yang’s Master Chapter 5.1 - The Serpent and the Forbidden Fruit

The mansion owned by Cheon Yeomyung on the Kowloon Peninsula was structured with a variety of illicit arrangements. One of them was a massive basement. This basement, divided into separate sections, was a hotbed of crime, naturally filled with all sorts of firearms, drugs, alcohol, and illegal contraband. Yang Euijoo, who was merely something akin to a lover, wasn’t sure if he was allowed to see all this, but since Cheon Yeomyung had permitted it, he could freely explore the mansion.

It was clear that the mansion’s owner had decided not to lock his lover in a room and keep him confined, so Yang Euijoo wandered through the mansion with a sense of bewilderment. After lightly strolling around the estate, he descended to the shooting range located in the basement. The fact that an ordinary mansion had a shooting range was unsettling, but in an industry where loan sharking and drugs were the main trades, firing a gun was, if anything, a professional task.

“Hey, that’s not how you do it!”

While Yang Euijoo was shooting with goggles on, he fumbled the pistol, and Linlin came rushing over. Lately, Linlin had been teaching Yang Euijoo how to shoot and defend himself. It was Cheon Yeomyung’s order. Whether the boss had been shot in the head or something, Yang Euijoo couldn’t fathom why he’d want his civilian lover to learn marksmanship. Linlin, thinking of the boss who seemed crazed with love as if high on drugs, shook her head, her hair tied up in a bun like a dumpling.

“You have to grip it firmly like this, look closely here, and then, bam! Shoot!”

“…….”

“It’s super easy, right?”

Yang Euijoo, staring at Linlin’s sparkling eyes as she looked at him, responded with genuine sarcasm.

“Oh, yeah. You could be a teacher.”

“Hahaha! Oh, come on. I might have a bit of a knack for teaching, but I’m not at the level of being a teacher.”

Linlin laughed heartily. It seemed like sarcasm or mockery didn’t register with her at all. Yang Euijoo took the pistol she handed back to him and looked at the target again. The red target refused to take any bullets. Cheon Yeomyung’s voice, casually mentioning that shooting with his eyes closed might yield better results, faintly echoed in his mind.

Yang Euijoo, wiping sweat with a towel, looked at Linlin like she was a monster as she effortlessly overpowered him despite being a head shorter. In contrast, Linlin, without a drop of sweat, casually pressed the fan’s button with her toe to stop it and called out to Yang Euijoo.

“Teacher? If you’re heading to your room, could you wake the boss on your way?”

It wasn’t because the pistols in both her hands felt shocking; Yang Euijoo actually liked Linlin quite a bit, so he decided to grant her request. He went to the shower room attached to the basement shooting range, took a quick shower, and changed into pants and a T-shirt neatly folded by the maids working in the mansion.

Most of Cheon Yeomyung’s subordinates wore tailored suits, so Yang Euijoo was the only one dressed in casual, comfortable clothes. After roughly drying his wet hair, he changed into a light gray shirt, as if the color had been washed out a few times, and light blue pants.

Yang Euijoo, wearing sneakers with the heels crushed, slowly climbed to the second floor. Still unaccustomed to the mansion’s scale, he found the hollow sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls and ceiling eerie. It always made him quicken his pace. Feeling oddly out of place that no one stopped or blocked him, he grabbed and opened the door to the largest room on the second floor.

The room was pitch dark with the curtains tightly drawn. The air-conditioned room was as cold as winter. In Hong Kong, only a few wealthy people, including Cheon Yeomyung, would install air conditioners throughout their mansions and enjoy cool breezes even in midsummer. This man even turned the air conditioner so high that he slept like a corpse in freezer-like temperatures.

Yang Euijoo, marveling at the man’s reckless waste of wealth, walked straight into the room. Without hesitation, he flung open the deep blue curtains.

Bright sunlight flooded the room, which had been filled with utter darkness.

“Close the curtains…”

A dying voice echoed through the spacious room. The man, lying half-naked in the gloomy room, reeked of alcohol. After just one date, Cheon Yeomyung had been coming home late every day, citing work.

Half the time, he smelled of alcohol, and the other half, he was so drunk he could barely stand. In his drunken state, he’d harass or tease Yang Euijoo before retreating to the chilly bedroom, sneezing from the cold, to sleep. Linlin or Yirang would sometimes ask Yang Euijoo to wake the boss, who was sleeping off a hangover.

To be honest, Yang Euijoo was certain the subordinates avoided Cheon Yeomyung’s morning calls because they didn’t want to see his naked body—a perfectly human reason. Unless he was going out, the man shamelessly bared himself, especially when sleeping, burying his bare skin in the sheets without hesitation.

Simply sleeping naked after sex could be excused as reasonable, but sleeping half-naked all the time? Wasn’t that just exhibitionism?

And this exhibitionist reeked of alcohol like an addict, sometimes even carrying the distinct smell of drugs. Today’s Cheon Yeomyung was exactly that. With only his yellow eyes peeking out from the white sheets, he looked like a snake wrapped in its shed skin.

“Get up. Linlin’s looking for you.”

“You two must be real close, calling her by her name.”

Cheon Yeomyung grumbled in a husky voice. Yang Euijoo felt strange whenever Cheon Yeomyung showed jealousy over such trivial things. Lately, Cheon Yeomyung didn’t get annoyed when Yang Euijoo barged into his bedroom to wake him. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

When Yang Euijoo called Linlin by her name, Cheon Yeomyung would childishly sulk all day, asking why he didn’t call him that way. That’s why Yang Euijoo wanted to escape this mansion quickly. Though it didn’t seem like Cheon Yeomyung would allow it… Staying here, he felt he’d truly become foolish.

Comfort bred other thoughts. Leaving behind a rickety door that rattled and a chimney house that shed eerie dust with every forceful step, waking up in a place with walls and a roof that clearly blocked the draft weakened a person. Seeing the sun easily, eating without difficulty, and even doing laundry was convenient. There was no need to hang clothes on a line in a dusty street.

In this luxurious comfort, was the immorality and repulsion felt when dealing with Cheon Yeomyung unbearable? Not really. Cheon Yeomyung even acted affectionate. He was playful and cheerful, never putting on airs like those claiming to be British nobility.

Strangely, the more Yang Euijoo discovered Cheon Yeomyung’s good qualities, the more he wanted to leave the mansion. Swallowing that unease, he tapped Cheon Yeomyung’s shoulder. At the casual touch, Cheon Yeomyung giggled and sat up.

“Put some clothes on.”

Yang Euijoo flinched at the sight of Cheon Yeomyung, the sheet sliding down precariously to cover his body. Not wanting to see a man’s half-erect organ in broad daylight, Yang Euijoo quickly turned away. Instead of dressing, Cheon Yeomyung politely asked his lover,

“I feel like throwing up. Could you make me some tea?”

“…Sure, drink up.”

Yang Euijoo, about to curse, grabbed the kettle instead. The thermos was filled with hot water. Not having to boil water was nice, but he disliked the refined act of brewing tea. Not knowing how much tea to use, he dumped in whatever he grabbed and brewed it haphazardly.

Cheon Yeomyung, now up from bed with the sheet wrapped around his waist, watched Yang Euijoo violently prepare the tea. Whatever his main trade, as a pharmacist, he seemed like he’d be delicate if he learned to brew tea properly, but Yang Euijoo always recoiled from refined acts like they gave him hives.

“Mmm.”

Cheon Yeomyung, sipping the tea that tasted awful even to his alcohol-numbed tongue, kissed Yang Euijoo’s exposed nape.

“Baby, showing off like this, what will people think?”

“Still drunk? Why don’t you put some clothes on?”

Irritated by the harassment from a man reeking of alcohol, Yang Euijoo roughly pushed Cheon Yeomyung away. Cheon Yeomyung, barely finishing the tea that worsened his hangover, set the cup with tea leaf residue down. Then, he slowly scanned Yang Euijoo from head to toe.

Feeling like he was being devoured, Yang Euijoo covered his nape with his hand. Whether out of concern for Yang Euijoo’s injuries or due to busyness, Cheon Yeomyung didn’t go all the way but increased other antics. Especially when drunk, he’d barge into the room despite Yang Euijoo’s protests, unmoved. On his single bed, Yang Euijoo felt the power gap between them every dawn as Cheon Yeomyung panted like a beast.

In the end, there were only lip marks like scars, and Cheon Yeomyung shamelessly teased about them, reeking of bitter pipe smoke so strongly it gave Yang Euijoo a headache. Unable to hold back, Yang Euijoo finally snapped,

“Get rid of that drug smell too.”

“Oh, can you smell it?”

No one, especially Yang Euijoo, could miss the opium scent. Yirang said the alleys were full of people staggering from it, always carrying that smell. Yang Euijoo turned his head from the unpleasant odor pressing on his nose.

“The party last night was rough. Opium was bad enough, but cocaine and heroin users made a mess… They all think they’re so restrained, but they’re not. Have you ever tried drugs, teacher? You don’t like them, do you?”

It’d be troublesome if his lover was a client. Cheon Yeomyung asked shamelessly, drinking another cup of tea. Yang Euijoo glared at the man treating him like a drug addict, his face showing displeasure. Still clad only in a flimsy sheet, Cheon Yeomyung drank two cups of the awful tea Yang Euijoo thought was terrible.

“It’s better when it cools down.”

He didn’t forget to leave a review.

“Then drink a lot. I’m leaving.”

“Why? Stay and play with me.”

Cheon Yeomyung grinned, grabbing Yang Euijoo’s arm. Yang Euijoo grimaced at the sudden bitter smell. It wasn’t even inhaled, but it made him dizzy like he’d taken drugs.

“Play by yourself. I’m not a kid…”

“I got you a gift last night, you know?”

Still acting high, Cheon Yeomyung rubbed his cheek against Yang Euijoo’s. Yang Euijoo, disgusted, struggled to push him away, but the arm around his waist didn’t budge.

“Let go!”

Cheon Yeomyung chuckled at Yang Euijoo’s loud irritation. Exhaling a mix of last night’s cigar, alcohol, and bad tea, he grazed Yang Euijoo’s skin with his teeth.

“Ugh…!”

Hearing the sweet shudder, Cheon Yeomyung got a bit excited. Leaning affectionately on his lover, he boasted about yesterday’s spoils.

“I won at poker last night and got that idiot as a prize. What should we do with him?”

“…What?”

“He caused you so much trouble, so we should kill him, right?”

Cheon Yeomyung drawled lazily. Yang Euijoo froze at the sudden talk of killing.

Quan? Having stayed at the mansion for a while, Yang Euijoo knew how bad Quan and Byukhae were. A homicidal maniac, the boss of Hongryong, whose hobby was trading insults. He recalled Linlin, usually soft and kind, cursing with a deadly expression. But could such a big boss be won in a poker bet?

Before Yang Euijoo could ask, Cheon Yeomyung exhaled heavily. Leaning on Yang Euijoo, he felt heavier than he looked, like supporting a steel beam, making it hard to breathe.

“Let go and get off!”

“No… Ugh, I really can’t today.”

Cheon Yeomyung, unsteady, stumbled back to bed, still holding Yang Euijoo tightly. Yang Euijoo struggled, but he couldn’t overpower the man, who felt like steel or human. Cheon Yeomyung pulled the sheet over his head to block the sunlight, whining lazily,

“Let’s sleep a bit more.”

“Sleep alone and let me go.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Yang Euijoo complained, but Cheon Yeomyung ignored him. Giving up his futile struggle, Yang Euijoo relaxed in Cheon Yeomyung’s arms. The cool room wasn’t hot even with two men embracing. It’s like paradise. Yang Euijoo, blinking, thought paradise wasn’t a place for Jesus-believers but wasn’t bad either.

The bitter, stale smoke smell lingered on Cheon Yeomyung. Frowning from the aftereffects, he recalled last night’s wild party. Usually discreet, the debauchery was blatant. Watching people lose control disgusted him, but encouraging it was his job. Seeing shameless humans, he thought of Yang Euijoo. I want to see the teacher on drugs. Imagining such depravity, he played poker.

“I hate opium. It’s dizzying…”

Yang Euijoo, nestled quietly, looked up. Cheon Yeomyung sighed shortly.

“You don’t like drugs?”

“As a dealer, I don’t want to touch them.”

The firm reply was surprising but logical. Yang Euijoo had never seen anyone on drugs live properly. The dens of addicts, too weak to clean their filth, were a mess, with most rotting from bedsores while smoking opium. Yang Euijoo briefly fantasized that if Cheon Yeomyung got addicted, he might let him go in a haze.

But hearing him complain about opium’s side effects and smell made that seem impossible. A man immersed in every vice yet addicted to none felt inhuman, chilling.

“How’s self-defense going?”

“So-so…”

“If Linlin says anything weird, tell me.”

Cheon Yeomyung teased playfully. From murderous talk to drugs to casual chatter—impossible to predict. Yang Euijoo blinked tiredly.

“Linlin says your athletic skills are terrible. What are you good at?”

“…Cursing, you bastard…”

He spat a heartfelt curse with an accent at the provocation. Cheon Yeomyung laughed as if it was fun.

“It’s fine. If you’re bad at self-defense, I’ll assign Linlin to you. Did you hear? I taught her self-defense. Rose Rock’s better at shooting. She trained me harshly, even making me hit targets blindfolded. Such a mean noona.”

His voice was soft and low. The topic of bullets was trivial in context. Talking about mundane things, sleep came. When was the last time I napped? Yang Euijoo’s eyes drooped with drowsiness.

When Yang Euijoo woke from a brief nap, Cheon Yeomyung was wearing gloves as usual. His neatly styled hair, with a few strands naturally falling over his forehead, sparkled as he smiled at Yang Euijoo.

“Slept well?”

His casual tone made Yang Euijoo pause. It felt like they were really lovers, which was strange. Cheon Yeomyung gently brushed Yang Euijoo’s messy hair, smiling affectionately.

“Not dizzy or in pain? Want to get up? I’ve got something to show you.”

“Something to show?”

“Don’t remember? I said before you slept. I got an idiot for you. You decide what to do with him.”

Still about Quan? Yang Euijoo almost said he didn’t want to see that old devil’s face but nodded, wary of offending Cheon Yeomyung. Fresh from sleep, everything felt hazy. He took the man’s offered hand, realizing Cheon Yeomyung was high on opium when he came to wake him, ungloved. Trying to recall his bare hand, the fleeting moment wouldn’t come back. Just that this man sometimes went ungloved. Yang Euijoo got out of bed, feeling comfortably cool.

“You slept a while. Dinner would be nice, but let’s check the gift first.”

Cheon Yeomyung looked cheerful. The debauched, drug-and-alcohol-soaked man from lunch was gone, replaced by a neat one suggesting the day’s plans. He casually put his arm around Yang Euijoo’s shoulder and headed to the basement. People politely greeted the lazy master rising at dusk.

“Master, good morning.”

They’d call evening morning if Cheon Yeomyung wished, drinking plain water as if it were liquor. Passing loyal subordinates, he opened the basement entrance. Beyond the room where Yang Euijoo practiced shooting, Cheon Yeomyung led him deeper, past all permitted areas, to a door at the end of the basement corridor. The door, dark green like it was moss-covered, had a gold handle.

Cheon Yeomyung knocked lightly. After a brief silence, the door opened without a reply. Rose Rock, dressed in dark clothes from head to toe, emerged, her short bob tied back with side strands loose, holding a Glock—the one Yang Euijoo used for practice.

“Boss, do you know what time it is?”

Cheon Yeomyung blew a kiss with his fingers, grinning slyly at the annoyed Rose Rock.

“Sorry, I’ll handle the rest. You can go.”

“Let me eat dinner before seven.”

Rose Rock handed the Glock to Cheon Yeomyung, pleading for humane treatment, and left. As she passed Yang Euijoo, greeting him with a glance, a strong smell of blood hit him. The red wallpaper from Quan’s basement flashed before his eyes. The metallic scent of blood and traces of violence made Yang Euijoo hesitate to enter. Whatever was inside wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Not coming in?”

Cheon Yeomyung asked, holding the door to keep it from closing automatically. His face, half-hidden by the dark green door, was eerie yet beautiful.

“…No, I’ll go in.”

“You should. I brought this all the way for you.”

Humming like he was singing, Cheon Yeomyung flipped the basement light switch. With a sharp click, like a firecracker, yellow light flooded the deep basement.

Yang Euijoo gasped, seeing a bloodied man sprawled on the empty basement floor.

It was Du Shanchong. Not Quan, not a cripple—Du Shanchong, gagged, writhing like a pitiful insect, trembling. Yang Euijoo’s jaw dropped at the miserable sight. He wanted to say something, but words wouldn’t come. Why, of all people, was Du Shanchong dragged here?

Seeing Cheon Yeomyung, Du Shanchong let out a beastly wail. It was the first time Yang Euijoo had seen him look weak. His face, scarred from a gambling den fire, was gaunt, no longer pig-like but a distorted skeleton.

“Like it?”

Ignoring Yang Euijoo’s fearful questions, Cheon Yeomyung rubbed against him, boasting about his trophy. He spoke playfully, like a beast nudging its mate.

“How should we kill him? Chop off his limbs and torture him? Know what happens when someone swallows a bullet?”

Yang Euijoo’s face paled at the horrific words. Du Shanchong writhed like a pitiful larva, sobbing with each of Cheon Yeomyung’s words, blood dripping from his head from untold suffering. Trophy. Poker bet. Cheon Yeomyung’s words tormented Yang Euijoo. Du Shanchong, as if sensing his death, wept profusely—a far cry from the man who beat and threatened the poor, scrawny Yang Euijoo.

Yang Euijoo couldn’t bring himself to say kill him. Swallowing a bullet? Was that even imaginable? But Cheon Yeomyung, as if there were endless options, casually waved the Glock.

“Tell me anything you want to do. If it’s hard, I can do it for you.”

“No, this…”

Yang Euijoo’s lips trembled, heavy as if weighed by a ton.

“Shall we make him swallow a bullet first? Or cut off his toes before his fingers—it lasts longer.”

The sweet tone belied the cruel content. Yang Euijoo retched involuntarily. Cheon Yeomyung looked down at him with calm, sunken eyes. His pale face was innocently unexpecting of such things. People often avoid foreboding, but the pharmacist teacher was extreme. So naive. Thinking how Yang Euijoo survived this long, Cheon Yeomyung coldly eyed Du Shanchong.

Last night, he met Quan at the bet. The old man dragged his frail body to the party to see Cheon Yeomyung. Over cigars and poker, they talked about Reddoor. Quan looked like he wanted to burn Cheon Yeomyung’s face with his cigar. So, Cheon Yeomyung bet his body—if Quan won, he could sear his eyeball. Quan agreed.

Cheon Yeomyung, curious how Yang Euijoo would react to a scar, was slightly disappointed to win. But getting Du Shanchong was satisfying. How amusing it was to uncover Yang Euijoo’s kidnapping. Knowing keeping him alive would only cause trouble, Cheon Yeomyung demanded Du Shanchong after beating Quan. Quan’s last-minute backtracking was annoying, but he succeeded.

Yet Yang Euijoo, ignoring his lover’s struggles and concerns, only recoiled. He didn’t even like Du Shanchong, yet showed misplaced mercy. So clumsy. Cheon Yeomyung clicked his tongue and stepped toward Du Shanchong. Yang Euijoo, startled, grabbed him, shaking his head fiercely.

“Enough, he’s already badly hurt…!”

At the foolish remark, Cheon Yeomyung couldn’t help but spit out a harsh critique.

“Euijoo, why are you acting so soft?”

The sharp voice lacked any trace of civility, causing Yang Euijoo to swallow hard. Du Shanchong’s lower body, writhing at the tip of Cheon Yeomyung’s shoe, was gradually soaked with something unpleasant. Cheon Yeomyung pressed Du Shanchong’s face, reeking of urine, firmly with the sole of his shoe and issued a warning.

“Revenge must be thorough. They need to pay a price so they never covet what belongs to others again.”

The room was filled with the stench of Du Shanchong’s dying. Yang Euijoo forcibly averted his gaze from the face, distorted by burns and further ravaged by torture.

“Just… just let him go.”

Yang Euijoo cursed Du Shanchong viciously, but he didn’t want him to die at Cheon Yeomyung’s hands. Beyond grandiose morality about murder being wrong, he felt a strong revulsion at the sight of a person being tortured and killed like a toy before his eyes. Revenge might be justified, but this wasn’t revenge. What Amy did to Du Shanchong was revenge; this was just a plaything, wasn’t it?

“My lover is too soft-hearted.”

“You’re the one who’s excessive.”

“Excessive? I’m suggesting rightful revenge. I heard you’ve suffered a lot; don’t you want to pay it back?”

Shuddering at Cheon Yeomyung’s malice, Yang Euijoo shook his head. His stomach churned. To suggest going to dinner after witnessing this, Yang Euijoo crushed all the naive and ordinary sentiments he’d momentarily entertained about Cheon Yeomyung with his fingernails. This man wasn’t normal. He wasn’t sane, which is why he could sell drugs and people.

“Be honest. You’ve never killed anyone, have you?”

Yang Euijoo swallowed his breath. Cheon Yeomyung slithered up coldly like a snake. As if about to sink his teeth into Yang Euijoo’s artery, he slowly positioned himself, opened his jaws, and asked.

“I thought you were soft, and it seems I was right.”

Looking at Du Shanchong, sobbing and gasping like a filthy insect at his feet, Cheon Yeomyung’s golden eyes gleamed deeply.

“Alright, let’s paint a picture in your mind.”

Yang Euijoo couldn’t even turn to face Cheon Yeomyung. He gasped, feeling the cold leather glove cling to his neck.

“In front of you was a man trying to rape you, right? Drunk out of his mind, barely able to stand…”

Cheon Yeomyung had always suspected it, ever since Yang Euijoo calmly mentioned that incident while drunk. Yang Euijoo was too soft to kill someone. Sometimes, when drinking or smoking, or doing drugs, Cheon Yeomyung imagined Yang Euijoo beneath him. Those imaginings usually failed, but in the end, he succeeded. As if spreading that dark sea before Yang Euijoo’s eyes now, Cheon Yeomyung stared at a corner of the filthy basement and whispered in his ear.

“You must have pushed him away. Just wanted to escape that situation, right? But the drunk man grabbed the railing wrong and stumbled. He must have been tall. A white guy? He went over the railing, falling into the deep sea, and it was night, so you couldn’t call for help…”

With each whisper, Yang Euijoo felt like he was back at that sea long ago. He was twenty then. If his calculations weren’t entirely off, he had just become an adult.

A hawk-nosed man called out to Yang Euijoo, wandering the deck late at night. He forcibly pulled him, groping his body. He said dirty things, but his drunken slurring made it incomprehensible to Yang Euijoo. Fuck, fucking, something about sex and money. More slurred words. Yang Euijoo realized the hawk-nosed man was offering him prostitution.

Yang Euijoo refused. No, disgusting. The hawk-nosed man got furious and tried to rip off Yang Euijoo’s clothes, who was even skinnier and shorter then. Startled, Yang Euijoo pushed him with all his strength. The man staggered, grabbing the railing, then tipped over and fell into the sea.

Yang Euijoo ran to grab him, but only the hem of his clothes brushed his fingertips as the man fell like a crumbling ruin. The massive sound of someone plunging into the water lingered, swirling like a vortex in his ears.

“You only pushed him once, not knowing he’d fall and die. Did you regret not resisting more passively?”

Cheon Yeomyung spoke as if he’d seen it all himself. Yang Euijoo felt utterly exposed. He wanted to escape the vast sea before him, but the man holding him from behind forced his gaze to one spot. Cheon Yeomyung’s gloved hand pressed against his pale cheek. Unsteady breaths escaped from trembling lips.

“It’s okay, look closely.”

Cheon Yeomyung soothed, stroking Yang Euijoo’s cheek.

“That man isn’t the one you pushed. He’s probably at the bottom of the sea, feeding the fish after a long time.”

Yang Euijoo smelled the sea’s vast, fishy odor. He felt like he was standing on a deck with dark, churning waves. No one saw him; it was too late at night. So Yang Euijoo fled the deck without shouting for help to save the hawk-nosed man. He struggled to get off that ship as quickly as possible. Cheon Yeomyung held him and said,

“It’s fine. So what?”

Yang Euijoo swallowed his breath.

“Do you need to feel so guilty about it?”

The man, a massive lump of sin himself, smiled gently at Yang Euijoo. His dazed expression, as if hearing something unthinkable, was rather cute. So Cheon Yeomyung soothed him more earnestly.

“If it bothers you that much, let’s say I took on your sin too. That kind of sin is nothing to me.”

It was astonishing. Yang Euijoo firmly believed Cheon Yeomyung was unfit for absolving sins or any noble, devout acts of repentance. That belief hadn’t changed. Yet, strangely, the words from this man living on the throne of this filthy underworld made him feel as if he were repenting.

“That’s a funny thing to say.”

So Yang Euijoo muttered in a low voice, like a sinner dragging a heavy stone up a mountain.

“Really? Your expression looks better than before, though.”

Cheon Yeomyung grinned, pulling his foot back. Du Shanchong, who had been flattened under Cheon Yeomyung’s foot, gasping for breath, saw the man with dangerous golden eyes kiss Yang Euijoo’s cheek.

“I won’t force such harsh things on my soft-hearted lover. Shall we just go eat?”

“…Sure.”

“What about this guy?”

“What about him? Just send him back to Yirang…”

Yang Euijoo trailed off, unable to suppress the lump in his throat.

“Alright. I’ll do as you want, so don’t cry. I hate crying. I’m not good at comforting.”

Saying something neither kind nor harsh, Cheon Yeomyung pulled Yang Euijoo out of the basement. He was an unpredictable man. So Yang Euijoo felt complicated emotions looking at him. A distant memory of something Cheon Yeomyung once said resurfaced.

I know how to love someone too.

“Another lie.”

Yang Euijoo didn’t forget that Cheon Yeomyung was a skilled liar. That’s why living with him was exhausting.

“Hmm? Me?”

But seeing his nonchalant response, Yang Euijoo couldn’t help but feel something else. The human moments he glimpsed, or the misguided affection like a stray cat proudly bringing a rat, kept making him ponder.

The emotions Cheon Yeomyung poured onto Yang Euijoo were of a strange kind. They weren’t the pity he got as a babbling child on a ship, nor the repulsive desire of those who covertly demanded vile things from young Yang Euijoo. They weren’t quite like Li Su’s kind protection, who took in a starving Yang Euijoo, bathed him, and fed him.

The man always anticipated Yang Euijoo’s reactions. He was proud, even showy. Yang Euijoo found the emotions and luxuries Cheon Yeomyung bestowed on him uncomfortable and burdensome. But were they entirely bad or repulsive? Probably not.

Shaking off foolish thoughts, Yang Euijoo shook his head. It was a stupid idea. Trusting someone was poison. He didn’t fully trust Li Su or Linda. Trusting someone like Cheon Yeomyung was foolish. His mother taught him from birth that sometimes even the sun in the sky or the stars’ positions shouldn’t be trusted. Sometimes they show illusions, my dear.

Yet he thought, sometimes in life, you can’t help but trust someone. Like ice melting on a frozen sea, or a stray cat slowly letting you in.

“I don’t lie to you much, teacher. Really.”

Blinking his golden eyes with an aggrieved expression, could this man become a bit special?

The next day, Yang Euijoo woke up in decent condition, except for an uncomfortably sore throat. In his room was Rose Rock, not Cheon Yeomyung. Yang Euijoo looked at the clear traces of Cheon Yeomyung having lain beside him, then at Rose Rock tying the fluttering curtains. She had a few silver hairpins in her red hair and wore a plain beige dress with white mules. The mules clacked with each step.

“You’re awake?”

Rose Rock, having tied the curtains tightly, turned to greet Yang Euijoo. Instead of replying, he turned to look at the clock on the wall. It was just past nine in the morning—not too slow, not too fast.

“The boss, who blew off his schedule yesterday eating, sleeping, and playing, left early. It’s my day off, so find me if there’s a problem.”

Rose Rock acted like a secretary giving a report. Yirang and Sogang were similar in demeanor. In fact, Linlin was unusually friendly. Even Yang Euijoo thought Linlin was a bit peculiar. Though he knew she was older, he often felt she was like a younger sister.

Rose Rock gazed steadily at Yang Euijoo, sitting up in bed. Blasphemously, his lips were torn. Ugh, that depraved boss. Unable to touch the patient, he used his mouth. When did his lust get so rampant? Rose Rock recalled Cheon Yeomyung, who once seemed the epitome of purity as a child.

There were too many reasons he became twisted, making Rose Rock want to dig up Cheon Homyung’s corpse and dismember it. Blaming Cheon Homyung could hide that Cheon Yeomyung was naturally rotten.

“Oh, that trash was sent back. The boss said to let him go.”

“Is he alive?”

Rose Rock, preparing morning tea, looked at Yang Euijoo. His torn lips and reddish aura gave the same hapless impression as always. If he’d stayed in Yirang instead of being taken by Cheon Yeomyung, it might’ve been better. Rose Rock poured rosehip tea, matching her hair color, and handed it to Yang Euijoo.

“Don’t you remember getting beaten to a pulp by that guy? Why ask? Want to play the fool? Anyway, he’s unfortunately not dead.”

Yang Euijoo stared blankly as Rose Rock nagged rapidly after handing him the tea. It was the first time he’d seen her talk so much. Usually, she spoke clearly in a refined voice at a measured pace, but when something absurd or frustrating happened, she poured out words like a waterfall. Stopping mid-sentence, still not vented, she stomped the floor with her heel.

“They even treated him before sending him off! Don’t do that next time. What the boss did to get him…”

Rose Rock abruptly trailed off, realizing her slip. Yang Euijoo keenly noticed her panic.

“How’d they get him?”

“…A poker bet. Didn’t you hear? He’s not one to not brag about such a stupid, petty thing.”

“I heard that. But is a poker bet something to call a ‘deed’?”

Yang Euijoo set down the rosehip tea, which didn’t suit his taste, and looked at Rose Rock. Perhaps because he’d swallowed the man’s semen last night or initiated intimacy for the first time, his pride was slightly hurt—assuming he had any dignity left.

Rose Rock, seeing Yang Euijoo’s unyielding demeanor, began calculating. Cheon Yeomyung had ordered silence. That arrogant, self-absorbed man, acting lovesick as if shot in the head, likely silenced it to avoid dealing with his lover’s temper.

“It’s true he was won in a poker bet. But Quan acted like a jerk, so an extra condition was added.”

But did a subordinate have to comply with a boss avoiding trouble? Especially in romance. Rose Rock was a strict noona.

“Quan’s addicted to cigars. That guy’s addicted to murder and drugs too, but he loves burning people’s flesh. They added a condition that Quan wouldn’t retaliate no matter what was done to Du Shanchong, and he burned a cigar mark on the boss’s body. I laughed so hard hearing it!”

Rose Rock scoffed, spitting out venomously.

“…Burned his body with a cigar?”

“Oh.”

Seeing Yang Euijoo’s sharpened gaze, Rose Rock rubbed her trembling eyes. Unintentionally recalling their bedroom affairs, she looked tired. Acting like it was new meant Cheon Yeomyung hadn’t undressed. What terrible bedroom manners. She sighed, pained by her boss’s unwanted habits.

“He burned his body to get Du Shanchong? Sober?”

“Not sober, probably. Took it gleefully while drunk. That’s how he is.”

Rose Rock cheered, seeing Yang Euijoo react like a normal person. Talking to him, unlike Yirang, who blindly agreed with Cheon Yeomyung, Sogang, who scolded but complied, or sunny Linlin, dyed by Cheon Yeomyung, felt refreshing.

“No one stops him?”

“Yirang thinks it’s a boast that the boss took a cigar burn on his abs without a sound.”

They’re all crazy. They’re all insane. Yang Euijoo muttered, and Rose Rock nodded fervently in agreement.

“I thought he’d be obsessed, but he let him go at your word. I asked five times today if he’s crazy!”

“I want to ask too.”

Yang Euijoo, rubbing his flushed face with disbelief and anger, muttered. If he’d explained how Du Shanchong was obtained, Yang Euijoo might’ve ignored his morals or nausea, letting him die by bullet or otherwise. But to send him back without a word—who’d take responsibility for the red hole in his stomach? Yang Euijoo would never want to be burned by a cigar.

“Don’t worry too much. It’s not the first time the boss’s whims have changed.”

Rose Rock concluded the topic she started. Though she treated Yang Euijoo formally, she pitied him deep down. If he were a fool like Yirang, she wouldn’t care, but his self-awareness and pragmatism tugged at her.

If only he were a greedy pig, she could’ve used Cheon Yeomyung’s checks to toss him clothes, jewelry, cars, or houses, then discard him cleanly.

Even watching summer pass in the mansion, Yang Euijoo demanded nothing from Cheon Yeomyung or his men. His strongest protest was to be let out of his room.

Doesn’t he need an ID? Since Cheon Yeomyung was more smitten than expected, getting him one wouldn’t be hard. Pathetic. Rose Rock thought coldly, looking at Yang Euijoo, who was tight-lipped, visibly upset.

“How about meeting Mei?”

Yang Euijoo looked at Rose Rock at the unexpected suggestion.

“We can’t always stick around, and a pregnant woman needs conversation for prenatal care.”

Rose Rock didn’t mention Cheon Yeomyung’s grim order to keep Yang Euijoo confined. This was within her authority to allow. She closely observed his reaction. A cold face lit up with warmth. She could handle the boss’s return if she soothed him enough. Rose Rock smiled brightly, concluding her calculations.

“Going too far is tough, but visiting Mei is fine. Shall I prepare?”

“Good. I’ll get ready.”

Yang Euijoo, setting aside his irritation with Cheon Yeomyung, nodded quickly. Seeing his bright smile, Rose Rock barely suppressed a twitch at her lips. The boss was truly a bastard. He wouldn’t live long, absolutely not.

He seemed to treat Yang Euijoo differently from past lovers. Rose Rock had never seen Cheon Yeomyung keep a lover in the mansion this long, neglecting business to play or enjoying childish banter on dates, making her wonder if he was possessed.

“Is Mei at the mansion?”

Yang Euijoo asked, taking the clothes Rose Rock handed him—a plain shirt and jeans. She paused her thoughts to answer.

“No. This mansion’s too exposed, so rumors spread. She’s in another building. The last one was at risk too, so we cleared it out. Made Quan look like a fool burning an empty house.”

Yang Euijoo dressed, listening to Rose Rock’s sharp tone. Seeing him change casually, she wondered if he was easygoing or oversensitive. He wasn’t refined, better than those who whined after living shabbily and becoming Cheon Yeomyung’s lover. Rose Rock offered a sandwich for breakfast and left the room with him.

Biting into a smoked salmon sandwich, its taste still unclear, Yang Euijoo got into the car. Rose Rock drove as skillfully as Cheon Yeomyung, saying she taught him.

“You’re close.”

At his brief comment, Rose Rock let out a deflated laugh.

“That guy—the boss—I taught him most things. We grew up together, and he called me noona back then. Now it’s creepy.”

Yang Euijoo deeply agreed. Cheon Yeomyung calling her noona? Easier to imagine him not crying at birth.

“Then things happened…”

Trailing off, Rose Rock drove. Yang Euijoo read signs, asking where they were headed.

“Things?”

“Various things. The bad blood with Hongryong was one.”

Rose Rock tapped the steering wheel irritably and turned on the radio. After static, a fast Cantonese song blared. She sang along fluently. Listening, Yang Euijoo thought he’d never adjust to this country’s language, pressing his cheek to the window.

“What happened?”

“Quan did something awful to the boss.”

Humming sweet love lyrics, Rose Rock answered, smirking about Cheon Yeomyung’s incident at twenty-three.

Quan must deeply regret it. The balance between Byukhae and Hongryong flipped then. Byukhae aggressively took Yirang, pushed Hongryong out, and killed without hesitation if needed. Cheon Yeomyung was unhinged then, still young. The bad rumors he made in Yirang started there.

“Ask the boss later, not when he’s drunk or out of it. He might strangle you, mistaking you for someone else.”

“…Never mind.”

He wasn’t curious about gang fights. Probably over something trivial. Yang Euijoo brushed it off, swallowing the last of his sandwich.

The car stopped in an alley closer to the docks than Yirang. Rose Rock, checking the rearview mirror, got out first. Yang Euijoo crumpled the sandwich wrapper, tossed it, and followed.

The building was small, trapped by larger ones, like a sunless tomb. You had to enter through another building to find it, chosen to stay hidden, Rose Rock explained, leading him inside. Brushing her neatly cut bob, she nodded lightly.

“I’ll be outside, so talk comfortably. Just come out before dinner.”

“Thanks.”

Yang Euijoo bowed to Rose Rock and knocked on Mei’s door. It was double-locked, with a yellow front door behind a metal grate, like melted butter in a pan—the only color in the drab, gray building.

Mei opened the door, her belly large. She beamed upon seeing Yang Euijoo.

“Teacher pharmacist!”

Her cheerful voice was still bright. The dark shadows from Yirang were gone. She hurriedly unlocked the door, grabbed his arm, and pulled him inside.

“How’ve you been? I heard something big happened to you.”