Yang’s Master Chapter 8.2 - Rebel

“Why are you acting like this?”

Yang Euijoo, trying to shake off the irritation from his arm, was met with Cheon Yeomyung’s gaze. The man remained silent. His lips, heavy as if weighed down by a thousand pounds, belatedly formed a forced smile.

“Because the schedule changed.”

Yang Euijoo still couldn’t make sense of what he was hearing.

“Schedule?”

Ignoring Yang Euijoo’s puzzled question, Cheon Yeomyung turned his head. As he walked out, bare-bodied, he draped a robe over Yang Euijoo’s shoulders. It wasn’t a tender gesture. Even in Yang Euijoo’s eyes, Cheon Yeomyung moved like a man with a resolute purpose. His jaw bore a faint mark, as if a razor had grazed it—whether by mistake or due to some unbridled anger.

“Mei.”

Cheon Yeomyung called out to someone gruffly. Yang Euijoo flinched in surprise, only calming down when he realized Cheon Yeomyung was calling for “Mei Wood.” Mei Wood, standing in a checkered jacket and matching long skirt, smiled at Cheon Yeomyung.

“Goodness… aren’t you spoiling this man too much? I thought he was all grown up, but why does he still act like a boy?”

“There was only one robe.”

Cheon Yeomyung, unfazed by exposing his bare body to a woman old enough to be his mother, flicked back his wet hair and offered a shameless excuse.

“Just check his wounds.”

“Calling a person ‘that’—alright, I understand. What about the medicine?”

“The medicine…”

Cheon Yeomyung, about to respond to Mei’s question, suddenly fell silent. Mei, who was about to set a bag of medicine on the table, glanced at him.

“Give him the medicine later.”

“It’s an antibiotic, so it’s best to take it regularly.”

“Why should I do him any favors?”

Cheon Yeomyung’s reply was sharp, like a delinquent boy, as he strode off somewhere. Casually tossing a wet towel onto the floor was an added touch. Egged on, Mei Wood looked at Cheon Yeomyung with a motherly tsk, then turned to Yang Euijoo with a warm smile.

“My, you’ve cleaned up nicely. Cleanliness is important for a patient. Would you sit here?”

It was hard to snap at her smiling face with something like “get lost.” Yang Euijoo, clutching the hem of his robe, sat on the chair as instructed. The chair had no backrest. As Yang Euijoo sat uncomfortably, Mei Wood set down her medical bag. She pulled out bandages, ointment, tweezers, and other supplies, laying them out meticulously.

“Shall we check your hand?”

Yang Euijoo obediently extended his hand. Mei Wood frowned slightly at the bandage, soaked from being submerged in a tub, and carefully cut it away with small scissors. As antiseptic touched the pinkish flesh of his wrist and fingertips, Yang Euijoo patiently endured the stinging pain. Holding ointment and antiseptic, Mei Wood examined the wound and offered advice.

“I forgot to mention, but try to keep water off your hand as much as possible. Get help when you need to wash.”

“Help…”

Yang Euijoo wanted to ask who exactly he could get help from, but not wanting to fluster Mei Wood, he suppressed his rough temperament once again. Mei Wood carefully cut thin strips of bandage to wrap around his fingernails, meticulously dressing each one, and gently warned him again to keep water off the wounds.

Well, it’s not like he could avoid water entirely. Yang Euijoo watched as Mei Wood, having finished treating his hand and foot, wiped her hands with a damp cloth. As she meticulously cleaned her fingertips and met Yang Euijoo’s eyes, she smiled playfully.

“You know that idle man over there? Why don’t you ask him for help?”

Yang Euijoo nearly asked Mei Wood if she was crazy. Somewhere, a faint male laugh echoed. Swallowing curses that threatened to draw blood from his tongue, he replied.

“I’ll think about it.”

“So stiff.”

Mei Wood clicked her tongue but didn’t stop smiling. Her warm hand pressed Yang Euijoo’s shoulder once before she gathered her medical bag and stood. Though kind, Mei Wood was meticulous. She checked twice to ensure she’d collected all her tools, then picked up the bag of medicine.

“Where’s Cheon?”

“Inside, hold on.”

A voice came from deeper in the room. Soon, the man reappeared. His still-damp, unstyled hair fell naturally over his forehead, and though he’d put on pants, his shirt was unbuttoned, giving him a dissolute air. He walked in with three different ties draped over his arm. Mei Wood pointed out that Cheon Yeomyung, nearly bare-chested, should dress properly, then pulled a note from her pocket and handed it to him.

“Lord Dudley says he wants to meet as soon as possible. Do you have time?”

“He must be quite impatient… If he’s that eager, I’ll make time.”

“What kind of trouble are you stirring up to make him so anxious?”

Cheon Yeomyung flashed a friendly, warm smile at Mei Wood as she held up the ties to compare them, though his gaze was fixed on Yang Euijoo.

“Planning to scold me for being naughty?”

“Well, I suppose you’ll grow out of it when you mature. Kids causing trouble is nothing new.”

Mei Wood treated Cheon Yeomyung like he was thirteen, not thirty. She was bold enough to shrug off even if he’d killed five people in front of her. An elite who had studied medicine in England, she was a product of her time. Cheon Yeomyung, who met her at twenty-three, cherished and respected the woman who had treated him ever since. Linda pitied Cheon Yeomyung as a child and despised him now, but Mei Wood treated both the twenty-three-year-old and the thirty-year-old Cheon Yeomyung like a child. He liked that. With a softened expression, he took the note and responded.

“I’ll arrange to meet Dudley soon, so don’t worry. Are you done with the treatment?”

“Just the hands and feet. His nails will take time to heal, so make sure to help him wash.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Cheon Yeomyung didn’t outright refuse. He grabbed one of the ties Mei Wood was alternating between and tied a knot with ease. Mei Wood looked at him with a hint of disappointment.

“Isn’t that too old-fashioned? These days, tighter, shorter, and more colorful ties are in style.”

“The guy I’m meeting is a fossil, so it won’t do.”

“Who are you meeting?”

“Earl Berkshire.”

Cheon Yeomyung, finishing the tie knot without a mirror, answered Mei Wood’s unasked question.

“We were supposed to meet a week from now, but he’s heading back to England and changed the schedule on a whim. That bastard thinks I’m a pushover. One day, I’ll stuff his guts with heroin and kill him.”

“Don’t speak so harshly.”

Mei Wood calmly chided Cheon Yeomyung’s cruel words and handed him the bag of medicine before he could forget.

“This is for Mr. Euijoo. He needs it for his lungs, so make sure he takes it later. It’ll upset his stomach if taken on an empty stomach, so feed him first.”

Cheon Yeomyung glanced at the bag in Mei Wood’s hand. Unknown to Yang Euijoo, the medicine included sedatives and sleeping pills, as Cheon Yeomyung had requested. Mei Wood had prepared it as instructed. Hesitating until the last moment, Cheon Yeomyung silently took the bag.

“Alright, you can go now.”

“See you tomorrow, Mr. Euijoo.”

Mei Wood smiled at Yang Euijoo and walked off with brisk steps, her heels clicking. As her footsteps faded, Cheon Yeomyung’s smile vanished completely. He stuffed the medicine bag carelessly into his pocket and approached Yang Euijoo. Yang Euijoo, clutching his tightly bandaged fingertips, looked at Cheon Yeomyung with a slightly defiant gaze. He scanned his freshly washed body with displeasure.

“Get up. You need to get dressed.”

“…Where are we going that I need to get dressed?”

“Go out in that bathrobe if you want.”

Cheon Yeomyung scoffed instead of answering Yang Euijoo’s question. Though unsure of the purpose, Yang Euijoo had no desire to go out in just a robe. Hesitating, he eventually stood at Cheon Yeomyung’s command. Cheon Yeomyung, annoyed that Yang Euijoo only listened after being told multiple times, turned away first. As he walked, he deftly grabbed two ties Mei Wood had left behind, tucking their flapping ends into his shirt.

Cheon Yeomyung acted as if Yang Euijoo’s preparations were more urgent than his own. Entering the dressing room, he tossed the spare ties onto a glass shelf and opened the wardrobe. Surprisingly, the wardrobe, expected to be overflowing, was sparse. The man’s clothes were neither too many nor too few. Cheon Yeomyung, chewing on curses, bent down and pulled out all the clothes hanging at the bottom, then spun around.

Before Yang Euijoo could say anything, Cheon Yeomyung thrust the bundle of clothes at him and opened a drawer.

“What’s all this?”

“Don’t you know clothes?”

Cheon Yeomyung, perhaps irritated by Earl Berkshire’s schedule change, was in a foul mood. Lighting a cigarette with a match, he looked down at Yang Euijoo arrogantly.

“Put them on.”

“These…”

Yang Euijoo trailed off, examining the clothes dumped into his arms. Among the fragmented, unfamiliar items was something resembling a long dress. Even to Yang Euijoo, who distinguished fashion only as formal or casual, the clothes weren’t entirely alien. Clutching them tightly, he glared at Cheon Yeomyung.

“I’m not from Hong Kong.”

“Who is?”

Cheon Yeomyung exhaled cigarette smoke and retorted.

“Don’t want to wear them? Then let’s go out naked. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

That bastard. Yang Euijoo glared at Cheon Yeomyung with burning anger. Seeing the sharp edge in Yang Euijoo’s gaze, Cheon Yeomyung bared his teeth.

“I told you, I’m in a really bad mood, so just do as I say. If you can’t, I’ll stuff you into those clothes myself.”

“…”

“Is that what you want?”

There was no way to counter the threat. Trembling with humiliation, Yang Euijoo had no choice but to put on the clothes he disliked.

The traditional attire, passed down from some Chinese ethnic group, was black. Yang Euijoo’s already stern expression grew paler, wrapped in stark black silk. The changpao, oddly, had its sleeves cut off, like a qipao modified for women’s adornment. Instead of sleeves, it came with fingerless gloves that clung tightly up to the forearm. Something about it didn’t feel masculine, and Yang Euijoo, displeased, picked up a piece of silk with his fingertips. Cheon Yeomyung watched him struggle into the clothes, then suddenly grabbed Yang Euijoo’s ankle and yanked it up.

Losing balance and falling backward, Yang Euijoo let out a sharp scream.

“What the hell?!”

“Wear it properly. It’s slipping.”

“What…”

Yang Euijoo, about to snap back, noticed a misfastened button. The long, slit hem of the garment fluttered. He was furious that Cheon Yeomyung had to point it out in such an exposing position. Worse, when Cheon Yeomyung let go of his ankle, it slammed into a heavy ebony piece of furniture, causing a loud, breaking sound.

“Finish dressing. Then get inspected.”

Cheon Yeomyung tossed accessory-like fabric pieces at Yang Euijoo, issuing commands. Yang Euijoo rarely wore traditional clothing like this, except for specific occasions, and these were far more intricate than what he’d worn before. Wasn’t it just a sack-like garment cut roughly? Why was it so complicated? Cursing inwardly, Yang Euijoo struggled to fasten the pants with strings instead of buttons, roughly tying the waist. Cheon Yeomyung’s curses followed immediately.

Enduring the harsh words, Yang Euijoo dressed properly while Cheon Yeomyung smoked three cigarettes in a row. Only then did he sit Yang Euijoo on a sofa and finish dressing himself. As Mei Wood had suggested, a very proper, classic tie was paired with a black suit vest and jacket. Yang Euijoo silently watched the man, gloved, slicking his hair back with pomade.

Perhaps because of his striking appearance, the act of dressing and grooming was almost dazzlingly captivating.

If he liked dressing up so much, why not focus on himself instead of forcing someone else into uncomfortable clothes? Yang Euijoo looked down at the tight, uncomfortable outfit clinging to his torso and waist. The pants, secured with strings at the waist and ankles, were equally inconvenient. White, contrasting the top, they were made of silk, slippery against his skin. Uncomfortable. Yang Euijoo sighed, looking at his exposed ankles and the flat shoes beneath the tightly tied pant legs.

“Boss, may I come in?”

As if in sync with his sigh, someone knocked on the dressing room door. Cheon Yeomyung, dissatisfied with his tie knot, adjusted it in the mirror and replied.

“Come in.”

The sound of polished, assertive footsteps was familiar. Red bobbed hair. Upright posture and sharp eyes. Rose Rock.

Rose Rock didn’t flinch at seeing Yang Euijoo seated. She grabbed one of Cheon Yeomyung’s scattered ties, rolled it up, and tucked it into a tie case, saying.

“The car’s ready downstairs. We’ve got about thirty minutes until the appointment. Should I call ahead to say we’ll be late?”

“Let him wait. Or tell him to look forward to me stuffing his hide with drugs as a gift for his beloved British royal family.”

“…What.”

Rose Rock shot a displeased glance at Cheon Yeomyung, who was choosing cufflinks. He tried on a few gems, then set them aside, opting for gold bars with lapis lazuli and mother-of-pearl inlays to secure his sleeves. Watching Cheon Yeomyung’s refined aesthetic, Rose Rock mentally calculated how much it would cost to fill a jerk like Earl Berkshire with product.

“It’d take about three million dollars to fill that pig’s body.”

“Once you strip out the fat, the volume might shrink.”

“Don’t waste money on nonsense. Here.”

Rose Rock pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and set them down. Cheon Yeomyung silently tucked them into his coat, adjusted his cufflinks for visibility, and threw on a coat. His black eyes, like they’d been plunged into darkness, brimmed with dangerous intent. Rose Rock took a short breath, and Yang Euijoo stayed silent.

“Berkshire’s an annoying guy, isn’t he?”

Trying to lighten Cheon Yeomyung’s mood, Rose Rock made small talk and courteously opened the door. Cheon Yeomyung strode quickly out of the stuffy dressing room. Only then did Rose Rock turn to Yang Euijoo. Her green eyes met his, a faint smile forming.

“Shall we save introductions for later? Let’s go.”

Yang Euijoo didn’t ask the naive question of why he had to follow. Lowering his eyes, he nodded.

Perhaps sensing their master’s foul mood, the mansion was eerily quiet. Yang Euijoo limped slightly as he approached Cheon Yeomyung, who waited by the car. The thin-soled shoes were uncomfortable, and every step made his wounds throb. Seeing him hobble, Cheon Yeomyung yanked open the car door, shoved him inside, and climbed in after. Rose Rock closed the door.

As soon as Rose Rock took the front passenger seat, the car started. Cheon Yeomyung ordered it to go slowly. The black sedan complied, moving at a pace that didn’t disrupt traffic. The scenery of Hong Kong, sinking into dusk, came into view as the car wound through the streets.

Unlike the Kowloon Peninsula, where Yirang was located, Hong Kong Island had an eerie opulence. The roads were wide, the cars numerous. Unlike the gritty, dusty peninsula with its roaring airplane engines and stifling heat, here tall buildings and twinkling lights illuminated the streets. The island, bathed in the vermilion glow of the setting sun, wasn’t beautiful but striking.

Yang Euijoo silently observed the streets. Ferries darted between boats creaking as they rowed, connecting the peninsula and islands. Somehow, that felt more beautiful. The car moved slowly as desired, eventually stopping in front of a towering building backed by a mountain. Yang Euijoo stepped out and looked up. The high-rise, too tall to count its floors, bore the word “Hong Kong” and what seemed to be the building’s name in English. Hill… Muttering, Yang Euijoo’s wrist was grabbed by Cheon Yeomyung, who headed for the entrance.

The entrance was grand, all glass with ornate metal trim. The carpet was red. A uniformed staff member with a red tie bowed politely. Yang Euijoo, awkwardly led by Cheon Yeomyung, entered the building, followed by Rose Rock.

They soon rode an elevator to a high floor. Yang Euijoo’s ears felt muffled, and he swallowed repeatedly. Cheon Yeomyung glanced down at him with an odd look.

The elevator stopped with an unpleasant chime. Like the entrance, the red-carpeted hallway was quiet. Cheon Yeomyung headed for the room at the end. A stern-looking man in a black suit stood by the door. Seeing Cheon Yeomyung, he bowed briefly and whispered.

“He’s not in a good mood.”

“When is he ever?”

Cheon Yeomyung quipped dismissively. The man said nothing more, knocked, and the door opened from inside. A lanky man in a bow tie bowed and ushered them in.

“He’s waiting inside. Please, enter.”

Rose Rock stopped at the entrance. Cheon Yeomyung, gripping the stiff Yang Euijoo, walked through the short passage inside. The soft carpet absorbed their footsteps. As they entered what seemed to be a living room, Cheon Yeomyung pulled Yang Euijoo behind him.

With a vicious sound, a glass flew past the impeccably dressed man’s cheek, shattering into pieces.

“Are you disrespecting me?”

“Hello. It’s been a while.”

Cheon Yeomyung, holding Yang Euijoo to keep him from stepping out, greeted coolly, as if unaware he’d nearly been hit by the glass.

“I told you to be here by five!”

Yang Euijoo couldn’t understand Earl Berkshire’s words but caught the numbers. Time, five. He glanced at the watch on the wrist holding him. It was past six.

“Don’t be angry. After all, presenting something to you for the first time requires preparation, doesn’t it?”

Cheon Yeomyung’s grip on Yang Euijoo’s arm tightened. Still elegant, speaking with a bold British accent that even the notoriously racist Earl Berkshire couldn’t resist, his voice was smooth and sweet.

“What kind of grand preparation is this?”

Earl Berkshire, clearly displeased with Cheon Yeomyung’s tardiness, asked sharply. That jerk. Imagining stuffing a bomb into the mouth of a man who didn’t even mention his own schedule change, Cheon Yeomyung pulled Yang Euijoo from behind him. Yang Euijoo, letting out a slightly foolish sound, stumbled forward. Cheon Yeomyung didn’t bother looking at him.

Only then did Yang Euijoo see the living room. The earl, seated on a single sofa by a table, was grossly overweight. Comparing him to Cheon Yeomyung highlighted how well the latter maintained himself. Piles of macadamia shells, half-eaten pickled olives, and ham slices littered the table. An empty wine bottle lay toppled, and Yang Euijoo frowned at the wine staining the carpet.

William Berkshire was a traditional English noble, arrogant. A count of the victorious British Empire, he served as a deputy for the governor managing Hong Kong under Her Majesty’s orders. Struggling with his large belly, he shifted in his seat, his ample backside wedged into the velvet sofa.

He viewed Hong Kong as a filthy gutter but enjoyed wielding power without restraint, unlike in England. He insisted only British English should be used in this colony, but after clashing with a new governor over bilingual policies, he decided to return to England in a huff.

Twirling his fine mustache, William Berkshire eyed what Cheon Yeomyung had brought forward. Short and stocky, he looked like a squat toad when seated, noticing Yang Euijoo’s knees before his face. The changpao, with its long slits swaying with movement, was made of Hong Kong’s finest silk—better than England’s. The golden chrysanthemum embroidery on the black silk was as flamboyant as Cheon Yeomyung himself. Despite his shady dealings, his polished appearance and flattery made Berkshire nervously rub his graying beard.

The white, tight-fitting pants revealed the contours of Yang Euijoo’s legs. Below, a slender ankle with a pinkish hue. Berkshire hurriedly looked up at his face. The eyes, floundering as if detached from the situation, reminded Berkshire of England’s gray skies. His anger over Cheon Yeomyung’s tardiness melted away.

“Is this the one you spoke of?”

Yang Euijoo glared back at the pig-like man staring at him with lecherous eyes. Cheon Yeomyung gently gripped his stiff shoulders, pressing close from behind. Under the firm touch, Yang Euijoo couldn’t speak.

“This is my lover. I’m pleased to have the chance to introduce him.”

Cheon Yeomyung held Yang Euijoo’s chin, presenting him to William Berkshire as if showcasing the finest quality drugs. Yang Euijoo’s fingertips grew colder, but Cheon Yeomyung’s body, pressed close, was warm. Ha, Yang Euijoo let out a bitter chuckle, his face a mix of disbelief and scorn.

However, the two men speaking English paid no attention to his reaction. Earl Berkshire, with an impatient expression, shifted his bulky frame.

“Doesn’t his leg hurt? Why not have him sit here?”

Already drunk, the earl had lost any pretense of aristocratic refinement and patted his broad thigh. Cheon Yeomyung, naturally, ignored the suggestion. He sat on the sofa next to the earl and forcibly pulled Yang Euijoo into his lap.

Through the wide slit of the garment, Yang Euijoo’s tightly cinched waist and legs were exposed. Seeing Earl Berkshire’s nostrils flare, Cheon Yeomyung smiled. It was fortunate that his lover’s appearance appealed even to a racist like the earl. Then again, if Yang Euijoo’s looks were ordinary, Cheon Yeomyung would have dismissed him as just another cheap con artist and left him alone.

But how intense were those eyes glimpsed through that small window of opportunity, and how sharp were the words he spat? Even Earl Berkshire was likely too captivated to think straight. Wasn’t he, even now, shifting his heavy body restlessly, as if desperate to claim Yang Euijoo from Cheon Yeomyung’s arms?

“Shall we have a drink? I brought a fine bottle of wine. I’m sure it’ll suit your taste, Earl.”

“Oh, excellent. Hey! Clear this and set it up again.”

Earl Berkshire, sweating profusely, rang the bell on the table to summon the butler. The lanky man who had opened the door for them earlier approached and tidied the cluttered table. Cheon Yeomyung watched as the wine he’d requested to be chilled was brought in.

“What are you trying to do?”

As Cheon Yeomyung observed the butler pouring the wine, a voice laced with quiet fury reached him. It was low enough that the earl, caught up in his excitement, didn’t hear.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Yang Euijoo scoffed at Cheon Yeomyung’s question.

“You drag me out here out of nowhere, just to make me do this kind of thing?”

“This kind of thing.”

Cheon Yeomyung muttered, taking a wine glass from the butler. He let Earl Berkshire ramble through a long, tedious toast and tightened his grip on Yang Euijoo. Having bathed in Cheon Yeomyung’s bathroom, they both carried the same scent. Cheon Yeomyung thought the heavy fragrance was too much for Yang Euijoo as he sipped the wine. The chilled, sweet wine didn’t suit his taste, but his lover might like it.

“If you don’t do something like this, what use are you?”

“Cheon Yeomyung…!”

The moment Yang Euijoo shouted in anger, the man gripping his chin slipped his tongue between his lips.

Earl Berkshire, mid-toast to the future of the British Empire, dropped his wine glass. As it clattered onto the carpet, Cheon Yeomyung fiercely sucked on Yang Euijoo’s tongue. It was an intense kiss, numbing the root of his tongue. The man’s body, pressing down Yang Euijoo’s struggling form and devouring his lips, carried the scent of pine soaked in a downpour. The familiar fragrance from the bathroom enveloped Yang Euijoo.

“Mmph.”

The mere act of kissing produced loud, wet sounds that echoed through the room. The noises of licking and sucking filled the space. Yang Euijoo was forced to swallow the wine passed from the man’s mouth. The sweet, rich taste burned his throat. Dizzy, Yang Euijoo swayed. Cheon Yeomyung licked his lips and pulled Yang Euijoo upright.

Before he could say anything, Cheon Yeomyung slid his hand into the long slit of the fabric near Yang Euijoo’s thigh. Tugging at the waistband’s tie, he loosened it and casually explored inside. Nothing impeded him. Earl Berkshire gaped, dumbfounded.

“You crazy bastard…!”

Yang Euijoo twisted, but Cheon Yeomyung’s hand persisted. Earl Berkshire hurriedly stood, his fat knees knocking over a wine glass on the table. As red wine spilled, staining the tablecloth, Cheon Yeomyung brazenly caressed the hardening flesh against cold leather. The pants, secured to prevent slipping, were already fully untied, dangling precariously around Yang Euijoo’s calves.

“No, stop.”

It had been too long since his sex was touched so directly. Yang Euijoo muttered, his face pale. The black silk hem concealed his groin, but the outline of Cheon Yeomyung’s moving hand was starkly visible, revealing exactly what was happening beneath.

“Stop it… ah!”

Yang Euijoo’s leg, precariously balanced on the chair’s armrest, slipped. Cheon Yeomyung grabbed the tense limb and yanked it forward. One pant leg slid down, hanging limply at his ankle.

“…!”

Yang Euijoo gasped. His private parts weren’t fully exposed, but one bare leg was in plain view of the pig-like man. Yang Euijoo wasn’t anyone grand, but he had his preferences. He didn’t want to do this in front of someone whose gaze felt violating. Clinging to Cheon Yeomyung, who moved with unrelenting determination, Yang Euijoo fought the undeniable stimulation of direct touch.

“Damn it, not here, no….”

On the verge of tears, Yang Euijoo bit his lip, legs spread before a stranger. The squelching sounds heightened his arousal. Cheon Yeomyung was skilled. Like when he first held Yang Euijoo, his deft, gentle hands massaged and rubbed sensitive spots, forcing him to climax.

“Ah…!”

His gaunt chin tilted sharply toward the ceiling. Bandaged fingers scratched the velvet chair. His trembling thighs tensed, and Yang Euijoo, eyes brimming with tears, exhaled harshly. His lips and eyes were wet, his flushed face mottled and pitiful.

“He’ll surely be a fine gift for you, Earl.”

Cheon Yeomyung shamelessly boasted, displaying Yang Euijoo’s state to Earl Berkshire.

The earl panted as if he had climaxed himself, his cheeks and belly jiggling with each breath.

“He looks a bit wild.”

Unable to tear his eyes from Yang Euijoo, he swallowed hard. Cheon Yeomyung, wiping his semen-stained glove with a handkerchief, laughed. Haha. The short laugh pierced Yang Euijoo like mockery. As the pants, barely hanging on one ankle, slid smoothly to the floor, Yang Euijoo bit his lip, humiliation clinging to his body.

“Are you scared of something wild?”

It was a conversation between two men who didn’t care about Yang Euijoo’s feelings. A man needing legal approval for illegal business and another exploiting his legal status for illicit desires locked eyes. Yang Euijoo was merely a tool to bridge them. Gritting his teeth at the dirty deal conducted in a language he barely understood, Yang Euijoo tensed.

But Cheon Yeomyung was faster. He gripped Yang Euijoo’s cheek, forcing him to face forward, and whispered tenderly like a lover, though Earl Berkshire, ignorant of Chinese, mistook it for something lascivious.

“Want to go back to the basement?”

“…”

“This is the job you chose, teacher. Why not enjoy it? At least he’s quiet. Lucky, isn’t it?”

Yang Euijoo recalled the basement’s mockery in Cheon Yeomyung’s snickering voice. A businessman who liked horse riding… That’s who he was being handed over to. Yang Euijoo saw the pig-like man’s lustful eyes. Disgusting. He realized that sleeping with Cheon Yeomyung was bearable because of his striking appearance.

I’ve got a decent eye for faces, haven’t I? Or maybe, when faced with the inevitable, people choose beauty. After the uncomfortable climax, Yang Euijoo, unable to close his legs, endured Earl Berkshire’s gaze like a displayed doll.

“Earl, I’m very refined.”

Cheon Yeomyung brazenly declared. Yang Euijoo found his voice grating.

“I don’t wish for my lover to be touched by others, but…”

The smooth leather glove grazed the inner thigh beneath the precariously draped black fabric, sticky with semen. Yang Euijoo tensed his lower abdomen.

“If you grant me just a bit of authority in the construction business I’m investing in here in Hong Kong, it wouldn’t be difficult.”

“Do you have the documents?”

William Berkshire asked in a low voice. Cheon Yeomyung, smiling at the man unable to hide his desire, handed over the prepared documents. They only needed the earl’s approval. The old pig, overwhelmed with joy, panted loudly, grabbed a fountain pen, and signed. Yang Euijoo had been sold for a hefty price in a costly deal. Cheon Yeomyung, as if offering after-service, took back the documents, checked the signature, and lifted Yang Euijoo into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking him to the bedroom. As you can see, he’s wild.”

It was a cold suggestion that there was no need to cause trouble in a room full of breakables.

Yang Euijoo, slung over Cheon Yeomyung’s shoulder like luggage, blinked blankly. Really? He’d suspected something while getting dressed and preparing to go out. Despite hoping otherwise, recalling Cheon Yeomyung’s harsh words, everything unfolded as feared. Cheon Yeomyung had advertised and violated him to a pig with vile eyes. Climaxing in front of the earl felt more humiliating than sex itself.

“Do I have to do this?”

Yang Euijoo asked quietly, his voice trembling as if he might cry. Cheon Yeomyung answered without guilt.

“Do I owe you an explanation?”

The bedroom wasn’t far. No matter how nice a hotel room was, it was smaller than a mansion. Yang Euijoo was thrown onto a crumpled bed, his clothing flapping to reveal his lower body. Cheon Yeomyung, adjusting his disheveled jacket, looked down at him. His eyes were cold.

“Do it properly. You’re good at this, aren’t you? Spreading your legs a few times might be your true calling.”

“…”

“You came so well just now. Do it like that again.”

Cheon Yeomyung waved the semen-stained handkerchief and turned away. Yang Euijoo saw Earl Berkshire waddle in after him, his face alight with glee. Those filthy eyes reminded him of Du Shanchong, and the bristly mustache groping his belly evoked a coarse coxswain.

Don’t go. For a moment, Yang Euijoo wanted to grab Cheon Yeomyung, but the man left the bedroom without a glance. There was no reason to hold him back. It was Cheon Yeomyung who had thrown him onto this bed.

“I’ll wait outside.”

“Good, take your time.”

Earl Berkshire, licking his lips, unbuckled his belt, hidden by sagging belly fat. He leered at Yang Euijoo, who maintained a haughty expression despite the lascivious display.

It was an open secret that William Berkshire, a deviant, couldn’t get aroused by ordinary partners. He needed to watch others have sex to get hard and could only climax by taking someone’s lover or mistress by force. Smacking his lips, he approached Yang Euijoo.

“What’s your name? Do you speak English? This old man will pamper you as much as your lover.”

Yang Euijoo understood Berkshire’s words even with his limited English. “What’s your name?” or “love you”—he grasped the dirty lines well enough.

“Resisting will make it less fun. Your scary lover probably warned you…”

Yang Euijoo, sitting like a doll, blinked slowly. Cheon Yeomyung… might lock him in the basement again. A dark, deep basement with dripping water, where he’d tremble in loneliness and fear, waiting for Cheon Yeomyung. Wouldn’t being raped by this pig once be better than that? Yang Euijoo, pale, looked at Berkshire kneading his thigh. The earl, panting as if he’d already climaxed, struggled to rub his shriveled sex against Yang Euijoo’s knee and inner thigh. It felt like a cicada pupa burrowing into the ground, giving him chills.

“Huff, huff.”

Berkshire panted over Yang Euijoo, his jiggling belly fat in view. As sweat and a foul stench hit him, Yang Euijoo braced his arms.

“Agh!”

Berkshire screamed. Yang Euijoo, with all his strength, pushed the earl, who seemed twice his weight, off him.

“Don’t touch me, you bastard.”

Berkshire, tumbling ungracefully off the bed like an overturned toad, struggled to stand. Despite his difficulty, he was thrilled by Yang Euijoo’s resistance. Ignoring his own pathetic state, he spoke magnanimously.

“Good, resistance is nice. It makes you feel alive, makes it more exciting to hold you. It hurts, but I’ll forgive this much.”

Yang Euijoo didn’t understand but felt the words were deeply insulting. He shoved back as Berkshire lunged.

“Get lost, you bastard!”

“Stay still!”

Berkshire roared, pinning him down. Yang Euijoo screamed, overwhelmed by revulsion at the earl’s touch. He grabbed anything within reach and threw it at Berkshire.

A soft pillow tore, goose feathers scattering wildly. Yang Euijoo hurled a bedside phone at Berkshire, hitting his head. The earl staggered, wiping blood from his forehead, then roared in fury.

“You filthy whore, daring to harm a noble body!”

Berkshire grabbed Yang Euijoo’s hair, strands snapping limply. Yang Euijoo, face contorted, swung his arms. Tears fell from his ash-gray eyes, burning like lye.

“Acting like a whore, why resist?”

As Berkshire shouted in rage, Yang Euijoo shot back.

“Let go! Damn you, cursed pig. I’ll stuff your guts with semen and let you rot!”

Yang Euijoo thrashed wildly, cursing as if venting at someone else. His shrill voice, on the verge of fainting with rage, cursed fiercely. He fought as if he didn’t care if his hair was torn out or his scalp ripped. Slipping from Berkshire’s grasp, Yang Euijoo was caught again by fat fingers, slapped, and punched back, escaping once more.

He was slapped multiple times, his throat choked. Violence was familiar throughout his life. Yang Euijoo didn’t fear Berkshire’s brutality. He resisted relentlessly, undoing the meticulously wrapped bandages until his pink flesh and nails were exposed. Pushing Berkshire away, he ran for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going, you bastard?”

Berkshire bellowed, grabbing him. Yang Euijoo’s black silk garment tore, buttons ripping off, as he was dragged back. With all his might, he slammed the door.

“Cheon Yeomyung!”

The wretched scream echoed through the room.

“Cheon Yeomyung, you bastard! Cheon Yeomyung!”

It was the most fervent he’d ever called that name.

Would the basement be better? It was hard to distinguish which was worse: the basement or the hotel. Cheon Yeomyung had forced him into two things he’d desperately resisted. Yang Euijoo had yielded to one but refused the other. Damn it, did I escape that ship to be used like a dog by this guy? Spouting incoherent curses, he yanked the doorknob.

“Open it now!”

There was no certainty Cheon Yeomyung would return, but betrayal, surprisingly, was there. Yang Euijoo clung to the door with all his strength, almost wishing it was the basement floor.

“I told you to come here!”

The doorknob rattled. Yang Euijoo, ready to kill Berkshire, swung his elbow back fiercely, hitting the earl’s flabby belly. Berkshire groaned, curling up. Yang Euijoo grabbed the handle, shaking it violently. Berkshire, furious, shouted and seized him. Yang Euijoo bit the hand tearing at his clothes.

“You vulgar rat!”

Berkshire’s rage-filled curse was the only sentence Yang Euijoo fully understood. Damn bastard. With bloodied fingers, he roared and ran for the door again. Though locked, he gripped the knob, shaking and pounding it.

“Open it, damn it, Cheon Yeomyung! Open it!”

Amid blood-mixed screams, the doorknob rattled. As Yang Euijoo shouted, gripping the loose handle, Berkshire grabbed his hair from behind, strands snapping. The closed door burst open.

Cheon Yeomyung, looking down into the dark room, was stunned. Unable to endure the noise and screams, he’d ignored propriety and faced Yang Euijoo.

“Oh, oh… you’re here.”

Panting from the sudden struggle, Berkshire welcomed Cheon Yeomyung. Ignoring the earl’s pathetic state, Cheon Yeomyung looked at Yang Euijoo. He was a mess—hair disheveled, nosebleed stains smeared and dried, cheeks swollen. What a sight. Cheon Yeomyung reached out, holding Yang Euijoo’s face, examining it. Yang Euijoo grimaced at the impassive expression.

“There’s a limit to being wild. Isn’t this too much?”

Berkshire complained, angry that Yang Euijoo had bitten his finger until it bled. Cheon Yeomyung, half-listening, surveyed the hotel’s finest room.

“…I see.”

The bedroom was a wreck—scattered goose feathers, torn pillows and sheets, and Yang Euijoo’s ruined face, with loosened bandages exposing pink flesh and nails. Cheon Yeomyung stared at the destroyed room, responding coldly.

“It seems he lacks training, so I’ll take him back for now. I’ll cover the damages, so the earl needn’t worry.”

“No, that’s not necessary.”

Realizing his own disgrace, Berkshire hurriedly pulled up his pants, fastened his belt, and wiped his sweat.

“Got any sedatives or opium? Dose him to make him docile.”

“…Ah.”

Cheon Yeomyung looked at Yang Euijoo, recalling the medicine bag in his pocket. The sedatives and sleeping pills Berkshire wanted were there. If Yang Euijoo took them, he’d fall asleep, unable to resist, legs spread. Or there was opium. The high-quality opium Cheon Yeomyung always carried would shatter Yang Euijoo’s mind, leaving him panting and incoherent, unaware of Berkshire’s identity.

Cheon Yeomyung didn’t look away from Yang Euijoo. His cold golden eyes fixed on the blood crusted on Yang Euijoo’s lips. Hesitating, he replied slowly.

“Sorry, I don’t have any on me.”

Disappointed, Berkshire pursed his lips.

“What? Can’t you have your men fetch some? It’s not about the cost of opium, is it?”

“I thought the earl would prefer him in his natural state.”

The black glove moved slowly. Yang Euijoo felt his boiling anger freeze under the man’s careful touch on his split lips and cheek.

“Isn’t that so? Too docile would be boring.”

“Well, yes, but with him acting like that, can you train him in a few days? I gave you something, so I should get mine.”

Berkshire, wriggling like an aroused pig, insisted. He still wanted to penetrate Yang Euijoo despite the ordeal. His pathetic groin twisted, erection barely noticeable. Cheon Yeomyung turned his attention entirely to Yang Euijoo, ignoring the earl.

“Unless the earl breaks his word first, I’ll pay a fitting price.”

Yang Euijoo winced as the pressure on his wounded face intensified. Cheon Yeomyung spoke slowly and clearly, ensuring Yang Euijoo could read his lips.

“You can trust me.”

“Hmm.”

Berkshire rubbed his palms, uncomfortable. Despite wanting the prize before him, ruining a decent relationship with a long-time business partner over petty reasons wasn’t wise. As a noble of great England, bearing Her Majesty’s commission to connect Hong Kong and the Empire, he had to maintain dignity. And Cheon Yeomyung knew too much about him.