The Taste of Lies Chapter 07

As a rule, for a date, regardless of gender, one should wear bright, cheerful clothes. Just imagining stripping down Hwanggeon, who had been sulking after being rejected, was enjoyable enough, but if he were wearing a rose-pink silk shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest…

Sangtae smacked his lips and rummaged through his wallet. Unfortunately, however, today there wasn’t a single thousand-won bill in it. He’d spent all the money he could grab as he went.

“Not, my ass.”

He put a cigarette in his mouth and turned on his phone. He pressed speed dial number 1. Brrr, brrr. The connecting tone rang unusually loudly.

—Yes, branch manager…

“Oh, Youngmin. It’s me.”

Before the other party could even respond, Sangtae spoke. Without waiting for Youngmin to finish, he unilaterally blurted out what he had to say.

“Do you have cash on you? Geon’s about to go out, so give him some. About five hundred thousand won.”

—… Five hundred thousand won? What for? Surely, that bastard didn’t ask for an advance?

Seeming flustered by the sudden request, Youngmin paused briefly. Then, with a sigh, he asked for the reason. Sangtae answered honestly.

“Well, he says he’s going on a date with his lover, but he’s going in that outfit he’s wearing right now. Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

—…Are you in the office? I’ll be right there.

Youngmin replied in a low, subdued voice.

“Yeah, I’ll send him out now. I’m counting on you.”

Sangtae rattled off something nonsensical and hung up. Then he gestured to Hwanggeon to hurry out.

Listening to the sound of the door closing, he lit his cigarette. The strength drained from his legs, and he flopped back onto the sofa.

He simply could not keep his expression in check.

Hwanggeon had found someone he liked. He was even planning a date under the pretext of shopping.

How had things gotten so tangled?

He had been the one to know him first, and he had been the one to look after him both inside and outside the prison. So why had Hwanggeon completely ignored him and fallen head over heels for that newly appeared fox-like bastard?

Sangtae felt wronged. The tail-chasing question bounced off in a direction away from the answer.

Was it because he was a gangster? Because he was a jaded guy who’d been the chairman’s mistress? Was a jaded guy not even allowed to have a normal date?

Sinking into self-contempt, he didn’t even have the energy to smoke. Ash dropped from the half-burned cigarette with a soft plop.

A hand intercepted the ash that was about to fall onto his thigh, catching it as if snatching it away. His gaze traveled upward. Youngmin, who had been there for who knows how long, was looking down at Sangtae sprawled on the sofa.

“Do you think I’m filthy too?”

The question slipped out before he knew it. Youngmin’s brow twitched. Unable to discern what thought process had led to such a question, he asked back.

“Did Hwanggeon say that?”

Sangtae shook his head.

“No. He said he likes someone else. I knew him first, I tried to treat him well… but he’s not someone like me, is he? So I just asked, just in case. Just in case…”

He muttered in an uncertain voice. Though he was forcing himself to imagine it as a ‘just in case,’ Youngmin could tell that Sangtae was practically convinced his question was true.

Why did he drive his thoughts in that direction? As if Hwanggeon would reject him for being filthy.

“Why not me?”

Youngmin looked down at him murmuring sorrowfully. The mood from just moments ago subsided at once.

The human being he had satisfied with all his heart and soul was now in despair over someone else. There was no way he could find that sight pleasant.

Something else bothered him even more. Sangtae was trying to find himself in Hwanggeon.

What Sangtae wanted wasn’t Hwanggeon. It was the life he could have had if he hadn’t gone to prison and had graduated from high school normally. He was superimposing that life—the life of himself living such a life—onto Hwanggeon, who was starting a new life.

The past was already a mess. The past, twisted because of him, had become entangled and led to today. Turning back time is impossible even for God.

All Youngmin could do was offer comfort.

“Do you want to quit?”

“…”

“Then quit. Leave Yeonhapae.”

In a firm yet gentle voice, Youngmin presented a solution. If Sangtae quit being a gangster, he would simply be an ordinary person with a slightly complicated past.

Since he would no longer be a gangster, Sangtae could live a new life just like Hwanggeon. If he lived cleanly as he wished, there would be no reason to project his own future onto others.

All it took was one word—that he would quit. Then Youngmin intended to get Sangtae out of Yeonhapae at any cost. A simple nod would have been enough.

Sangtae drew in a breath. He felt as if he had heard similar words from Youngmin before. But those words offered no help whatsoever to Sangtae in reality.

“Who the hell are you to say that to me?”

His blue-black eyes were colored with anger.

“Branch manager.”

“Who the hell are you to say that to me!”

Anger surged up in a rush.

He grabbed Youngmin by the collar and toppled him onto the sofa. Climbing over his thighs to straddle him, he yanked off his belt and threw it to the floor, then roughly pulled down his zipper. He also lowered his own pants and underwear down to his thighs.

“Branch manager!”

Startled, Youngmin pushed against Sangtae’s shoulders. A struggle ensued as he tried to push and throw him off.

Youngmin could not exert his full force against Sangtae. He knew that all of this was happening because of him. Seizing the momentary hesitation, Sangtae bound Youngmin’s wrists with his own belt.

“If it weren’t for you, I would have lived moderately and then run away. How many mistresses did the late chairman have? Not all of them live like I do.”

“S-stop it. You’ll… get hurt, ngh…!”

Stroking the limp, flaccid organ with his hand to force an erection, Sangtae sat down on top of it. The hole that had been holding his fingers just moments before stretched tightly open and reluctantly swallowed the cock. Despite Youngmin’s attempts to dissuade him, he remained stubborn.

“If I… quit, what are you… going to do?”

His rounded buttocks slapped against his lower abdomen. Long, slender fingers squeezed his throat. The contracting inner walls painfully clenched around the cock. Youngmin couldn’t breathe. His vision spun in circles.

“Are you going to stay here? Then what… what was everything I endured for…?”

Sangtae’s life continued to fall apart without end. Was it from the moment he chose to come to Korea for his mother’s sake, or from when he decided to make a false confession for Youngmin’s sake?

Where had it gone wrong? Sangtae’s life was a Möbius strip that only grew more tangled the more he tried to find the point where it had twisted.

Grabbing Youngmin’s chin as he turned his head away in guilt, Sangtae forced him to meet his eyes. Freed from the choke, Youngmin gasped, opening his mouth wide and breathing deeply. Sangtae bit down on his wide-open mouth.

The blood pooling in his mouth tasted of iron.

Sangtae clung to Youngmin like a drowning man.

Every time his hips rose and fell, the sofa creaked. Sweat streaming from his forehead down to his temples dripped onto Youngmin’s cheek.

Outside the semi-basement office window, a motorcycle roared past with a blaring exhaust note. In the distance, the laughter of drunkards scattered.

Orange stripes of neon light, seeping through the gaps in the blinds, painted streaks over the tangled bodies of the two men.

It was only after a long while that Sangtae pulled away. His limp, spent cock flopped heavily against his damp, wet stomach. White, clotted semen fell in drops from Sangtae’s buttocks.

He shifted his body and sat his bare bottom on the leather sofa. For a moment, neither of them could speak.

Sangtae roughly pulled up his pants. Staggering over to Youngmin, he unbuckled the belt that had bound his wrists.

“Sorry.”

Stroking the red, swollen wrists with his thumb, Sangtae turned his back. His turned-away back looked particularly gaunt.

Youngmin did not reply. He knew that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t reach Sangtae’s ears right now. Probably, he too was feeling absolutely awful.

Roughly tidying his damp, soiled shirtfront, Youngmin stood up on both feet.

“I’ll hand the money to Hwanggeon myself. I’ll also handle the employees’ wages on my end today, so branch manager, go back to your quarters and rest.”

“Yeah. That’s for the best.”

Sangtae walked out weakly. Youngmin silently watched his lonely retreating figure.

The taste of blood still lingered at the root of his tongue.

Youngmin made a decision. He would remove Hwanggeon from Sangtae’s side.