Midday Guest Chapter 11

“I’m telling you to just leave it and go, treating this place like any other lodging. This is a bed and breakfast, and you’ve already paid in full.”

“I was worried because you look soft, but at least you won’t get swindled out there.”

The man sat down on the cement ledge and rolled up his sleeves. Yiwon had no choice but to crouch down beside him. When the man scrubbed a dish with a sponge soaked in dish soap and handed it over, Yiwon rinsed it and placed it upside down in the basket.

“Baby.”

“…”

“Can’t you hear me?”

He had no idea why the man kept calling him ‘baby.’ When Yiwon reluctantly replied, “I can hear you,” the man chuckled.

“Don’t cook starting tomorrow.”

Startled by those words, Yiwon turned to look at him.

“Why?”

“If I tell you not to do it, just don’t do it. Why so many words?”

“Did it taste bad? To the point it was inedible?”

“No. I don’t eat things that taste bad.”

The man continued as he motioned toward the mountain of empty dishes.

“It tastes good, but just don’t do it. I can just have the punks downstairs go buy something.”

Swaaaaa—while Yiwon blinked in confusion, the water flowing from the faucet fell onto the back of his hand and splattered everywhere. Beads of water soaked into the gray clothes Yiwon was wearing.

Turning the faucet off, the man asked.

“What do you want to eat tomorrow morning?”

“Are you asking me seriously?”

“Would I be asking you jokingly, then?”

Yiwon tapped the floor with his toes. There was a food he had been thinking about lately.

“Can I say anything?”

“Yeah.”

“Then, a jambon-beurre sandwich, please.”

“Jam-what?”

With a face uncharacteristically flustered, the man looked back at Yiwon. Yiwon laughed out loud as he shook the water off a dish. It seemed even a handsome face looked blank when caught off guard.

“Hey, I’ll hand you the phone later, so tell them yourself.”

“Okay.”

He turned his head with a lingering smile. Along with it, the subtle tension that had remained loosened.

While they chatted back and forth, the clean dishes sparkled in the sunlight. It was only then that he realized their bodies had grown close while washing and passing the dishes.

The man’s knee and Yiwon’s knee were precariously touching. Yiwon glanced down at the strange sensation of bare skin touching a formal suit.

“No more?”

“No.”

“Finish the rest of the tidying yourself.”

“This is plenty. Thank you for helping.”

Expressing his gratitude, Yiwon reflexively winced and curled his wet hands into fists. Because the man had slid his leg, their legs were pressed together from knee to calf.

Every time he quietly breathed in and out, a lukewarm body heat rolled in like a wave.

Is this person unaffected? The man he looked up at was simply meeting his eyes in silence. With an infinitely composed face.

The man, who remained seated even after finishing the dishes, asked.

“What’s your name?”

“Jung Yiwon. And yours?”

“Cha Seokjoo.”

The man rummaged through his pocket and handed over a business card with a clipped corner.

Director Cha Seokjoo

Cheongun Construction

Yiwon wiped his hands on his short-sleeved T-shirt and took the card the man offered.

Cheongun Construction… Cheongun?

There wasn’t a resident in Yonggung-ri who wouldn’t know Cheongun Construction. Cheongun was one of the many companies that had recently declared they would review bidding for the Yonggung-ri redevelopment.

Furthermore, Cheongun was a company famous for its roots in organized crime and its terrifyingly aggressive momentum. As his thoughts reached that point, a chill ran down the nape of Yiwon’s neck.

If he’s a director at Cheongun Construction, then this man is also a gangster…

Yiwon barely held back a choked sound.

“What?”

“…Oh, it’s nothing.”

After tucking the business card into his pocket, he saw pitch-black eyes—as if no light could pass through them—staring at him.

To say he was simply looking at something was insufficient. The gaze that followed him slowly made Yiwon think of something strange.

The feeling that he wasn’t restrained by anything, yet was tied to a rope and suspended in mid-air. The moment he felt flustered by this baseless thought, he felt a heat in his face.

Yiwon turned his head first. He subtly pulled his upper body to the side. How could he separate their touching legs naturally? After worrying for a moment, he pulled his feet back first. Jiik—the sound of slippers dragging on the cement floor echoed messily.

“…”

With nowhere to look, he just stared blankly at the ground. His heart began to beat faster and his chest felt tight. His breath seemed to quicken, too.

Is it because I’m scared? No, if it were because I’m scared, shouldn’t it be difficult to even sit and talk like this?

Yiwon thought as he glanced back at the person who was likely the source of the confusion. Instead of having strange thoughts, he should finish tidying up. He already said thank you, so he could probably just get up.

“Wait.”

The moment he tried to stand up holding the basket without a word, the man moved closer. It felt as if his body was being sucked into the shadow created by the large frame.

“Yes, what is it?”

“You’re so jittery. Who said they’re going to kill you?”

The man—Cha Seokjoo—was already leaning in with his arm braced behind Yiwon’s back. After staring at an ambiguous spot—perhaps the lips, perhaps the neck—for a long time, he grabbed Yiwon’s chin and lightly lifted it.

Cha Seokjoo’s hand was large and thick. His grip strength was immense enough to easily snap Yiwon’s jaw.

The defined forearm muscles beneath his rolled-up shirt caught his eye. Despite his fierce and sturdy appearance, the touch rubbing near his neck was nothing but gentle.

Yiwon froze in place, surrendering his face to him. Even though he tried not to be conscious of it, his cheeks burned with embarrassment because his body went stiff of its own accord, but nothing changed.

Cha Seokjoo’s hand finally pulled away after a long moment. Even then, his gaze remained on Yiwon’s face. After examining the eyes, nose, and mouth equally, the last place he fixated on was the lips.

How was I holding my mouth closed, and what was I doing with my tongue? Things he would never normally think about were now thoroughly tangling up Yiwon’s head.

Cha Seokjoo’s head tilted slightly. Withdrawing his gaze from where it had been lingering ambiguously, he pulled something from his pocket and tossed it.

“Put it on.”

Something fell with a tuk onto the lap of the bewildered Yiwon. It was a bandage covered in little duck toy patterns and an ointment that was advertised to make new skin grow.

The spot where the assailant’s jackknife had grazed him suddenly felt itchy. When Yiwon tried to touch the wound with his hand, the man snatched his wrist to stop him and continued.

“You have to apply the medicine before putting it on.”

“…Thank you. I’ll use it well.”

Cha Seokjoo’s hand, which had been holding his wrist, slid down his arm and fell away.

“Breakfast was good.”

Cha Seokjoo left those words and walked away. Yiwon, left alone in the yard, remained curled in his spot before flicking away the water droplets that had pooled in his palm.

A midsummer afternoon, the sound of cicadas filled the front yard. It was a day in July where the intensity of the heat pouring over his shoulders was fierce.

They say humans are creatures of adaptation.

Yiwon came to fully agree with that statement. Despite the fact that a man involved in a gang—and a director of that gang at that—was sleeping in the guest room, he had slept perfectly well.

When he opened his eyes, it was dawn.

Normally, he would have jumped out of bed and gone to work, but today Yiwon was rolling around on his blankets. It was because now that his larder was full, he wanted to be lazy.

It should be okay to rest for a day. Within three seconds, Yiwon submitted a leave request and approved it himself. Then, he played games on his phone while lying on the blankets.

He lay on his back holding his phone, then lay on his stomach when his arms hurt. He rolled around and around, enjoying the breeze from the fan. It was a day when the reward received after escaping a crisis felt quite sweet.

While he was passing the time like that, a call came in. Yiwon tossed everything he was doing and answered the phone happily.

“Hello.”

— Yiwon. It’s Mom.

“Yeah, Mom.”

It was a landline number not saved in his phone, but it was familiar. It was the phone number of the hospital where his mother was admitted.

His mother didn’t have a cell phone. It was due to the trauma she developed from the texts and calls that poured in incessantly back when his father was hounded by debt collectors.

— I was wondering how our Yiwon was doing.

“I’m doing well. What about you, Mom? How is your body feeling?”

— I’ve gotten much better. Really, a lot better.

Half a year ago, his mother underwent surgery at a university hospital in Seoul. It was a fairly major surgery, but it ended successfully, and she was currently in recovery. Because Yiwon couldn’t visit often while looking after Haeundang, his aunt would stop by occasionally to check on her.

“Really? That’s great. See, Mom? I told you you’d be able to do it, didn’t I?”

— It’s all thanks to my son. Mom will get better quickly and go help Yiwon.

“What are you talking about? Mom, you can’t work anymore.”

— It’s because Mom feels sorry. Throwing all that hard work onto you.

“I’m fine and there are no problems here, so Mom, just focus on getting better.”

— Still, Mom worries about her son…

A silence fell for a moment. After hesitating for a long time, his mother asked cautiously.

— It’s hard, isn’t it? Since it’s the rainy season, there probably aren’t any guests.