IOTF Ch 1
by soapa“Urgh, urgh.”
As the last customer slipped out, the athletes who’d been serving as “maids” started retching. One guy who’d been running the floor full-on clung to a trash bin, puking his guts out. Host bars were the same everywhere—Seoul or here, no difference.
I stepped out of the room with its cheap, spinning psychedelic lights and crossed a hallway plastered with 2000s movie posters. The tacky wallpaper and karaoke-bar-level interior were unbearable.
“I’m gonna grab some cigarettes.”
I told the counter and hopped in the elevator. Reaching the first floor, I saw the 24-hour lottery shop lit up. I popped in, bought smokes, and stepped outside.
The street, new to me today, was pitch black. Unlike Seoul, no flashing cars or signs screamed its presence.
Rubbing my forehead roughly, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Tilting my head up, I stared at the blue “Queens” sign glowing above, and a laugh slipped out in disbelief.
“So I was the first customer today?”
“Yeah. You broke the ice for us tonight, sis.”
“What? Your ada picked someone else?”
A cackle erupted, and her hand twirled over my thigh, brushing my crotch lightly.
“So what’s our baby’s name?”
“Sunjeong. Come see me lots, okay?”
Mood be damned, I flashed my usual bright smile, grabbed the mic, and punched in my go-to song. Singing a mid-tempo ballad, I took in the worn, faded sofa and raised my voice, eyeing the cheap beer glass instead of a crystal one.
Soon, applause broke out, and “sis” reached over, yanking my waist hard.
Her hand slipped inside my shirt, carrying the crisp scent of cash. This dive of a host bar couldn’t touch Seoul’s, but money was money. Green bills rolled in like leaves, and I couldn’t slack off—this was work.
Pouring drinks, smearing lips, I pocketed tips smoothly.
It wasn’t the place Jaehoon hyung described, but I ran with it like it was my reality. Still, mixed feelings churned inside.
Biting down hard on the filter between my lips, I caught a whiff of salty sea breeze—like Yeonsan’s coastal edge announcing itself. The unfamiliar smell hit me, and nausea surged.
Before I could exhale the smoke properly, I scanned for a spot to puke. I bolted toward a utility pole piled with trash. A few steps in, I hurled—booze and fruit chunks spilling out. Only then did my breath come right.
“Haa. Fuck.”
Shuddering, I yanked a handkerchief from my pocket. A few bills fluttered to the ground. Panicking, I bent down—Fuck!—and cursed aloud.
Shitty life.
How’d it come to this? Shouldn’t have stepped into this world. When Grandma died, I shouldn’t have sold that old house. Should’ve ignored Madam Jeong’s words and stayed there, eating and sleeping, proving how well Grandma raised me. If I’d worked days and slept nights like a decent person, I wouldn’t be picking up puke-stained cash now…
“Money’s got no sin.”
A voice cut through, and I turned. Against the black night, a man stood. Squinting up from my crouch, he was huge, intimidating, dressed in a flashy shirt.
“Who’re you?”
Wiping my glistening lips, I asked. He looked at my face and smirked.
“Just passing by.”
Standing a distance off, he turned, then walked right up to me—unfazed by the vomit.
“Then keep going.”
“Was gonna, but it’s like white snowflakes settled here.”
I glanced around instinctively. The rainy season just ended—snow?
“You. I mean you.”
It clicked—he was likening me, crouched in my cream suit, to snow.
“You a host?”
He curled one lip up.
“Do I look like one?”
“Your flirting’s so lame, it fits this place perfectly.”
I snatched up a fifty-thousand-won note, flicking off the vomit, and stood. Under the streetlight, his face came clear.
His flashy shirt matched his striking features. Thick, long brows smoother than drawn lines, rugged masculine traits, and glinting eyes like gems.
He had a cocky air, but something faintly dangerous set him apart from the usual slick host boys—way better-looking, too.
“This place that shitty, huh?”
“Don’t talk to me—just go. I’m clocking out after closing.”
“Hmm, you’re a host?”
“Can’t you tell?”
I was annoyed. After puking my guts out, I just wanted hot soup and early sleep.
“Must be good at fucking.”
“What?”
“No, your attitude’s so prickly—wondered what you seduce with.”
He smirked down at me again, lifting those thick brows, clearly amused. My mood soured further.
“Curious? Come play with a girl and see—check if I earn with my dick or my mouth.”
I knew I was snapping. But I wasn’t about to play along with his lame flirting. Those gem-like eyes seemed to say, Coming to a dump like this shows your level, and it pissed me off.
Fuck, everything’s a fight.
Shoving my hands into my earnings-stuffed pockets, I brushed past him. Then a familiar scent hit—not perfume or whiskey.
Cool peppermint—mouth mist, sprayed constantly for freshness. Before and after lip service, a must.
I stopped, facing him. At 179 cm, I had to look up—he was tall. His lean, toned frame under that loud shirt wasn’t thuggish, and his lazy smirk and eyes were sexy, provocative—women would lose it.
So I asked again.
“Just to be sure—you a host here?”
He chuckled, leaning closer.
“You’re the host, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m asking. If you’re one, let’s get along. If not, let’s respect turf and do business.”
He burst out laughing, shoulders shaking. It irked me, but his voice oddly hummed in my ears.
“If I said I’m the ace here, would you grab my hair?”
“If you’re an ace who can’t manage turf, I’d do more than that.”
“Oh? Wanna try?”
He taunted, shoving his face closer.
“Go ahead—I’ll let you.”
Despite his dare, he stared at my slick lips, then locked eyes with me, suddenly reaching out.
“…!”
His hand brushed my seagull-shaped brows. As I moved to slap it away, a tattoo peeked from his shirt—sharp blade and a snarling black jaguar. The knife stabbed his chest’s center; the jaguar bared fangs at his heart, glaring at me.
“First time seeing a tattoo?”
No way—it was just one of countless I’d seen. But I couldn’t look away, drawn by his strange vibe.
The thug-style shirt and gold chain should’ve been laughable, but they weren’t. His handsome, sultry face oozed mature allure, like it came from a life hard-lived.
“Your stare’s hot.”
“…”
“Want more?”
Before I could peel my eyes off the tattoo, peppermint hit again. Not even breathing close, yet my lips burned as he leaned in.
“Move…”
“Nah.”
He grinned slowly, licking his lips. A hair’s breadth away, more mint wafted.
“And if we’re talking turf, this whole place is mine. You’re the one who should watch it.”
Then I spotted another tattoo on his hand—a coiled snake in a rudder-like circle.
My mind raced.
Tattoos, vibe, “turf.”
“You saying I should pay up?”
“Got the cash? Once I start collecting, I’ll strip you down to your organs. Wanna pay? I’ll make your work easy.”
I’d pegged him as a host who’d charm women—wrong call.
I clicked my tongue inwardly. First day on the job, wrong spot, and now a total misstep.
“If you’re not a host, sorry. It’s my first day.”
I folded my double-lidded eyes like when getting picked by clients, flashing a sly but not overdone smile. His face stiffened, brows shooting up like he’d seen the unexpected.
“…”
“…”
As a chill prickled my skin, a motorcycle roared. I didn’t know it was a 24-hour diner delivery. Only after seeing a guy with two metal boxes enter the building did I catch on.
“What’s your name?”
His flat tone made me bite the inside of my slick lips. As I debated an answer, his icy gaze softened. Wiping away the psycho look, he smirked lazily again.
“Right, names between hosts? Creepy, huh?”
He swaggered around me once more, pretending not to look, then rested a hand on my shoulder.
“Go eat. You puked—fill up.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket right then. With his hand pinning me, I couldn’t move, feeling his heavy gaze overhead.
“See ya, champ.”
His weight lifted, a final whiff of mint lingered.
He vanished silently as he’d come. I dropped my head and muttered:
“Fuck, this sucks.”
˚｡⋆
“Hey, why didn’t you pick up?”
Back at the shop, a host named Ji Yeonwoo grabbed my sleeve, dragging me down Queens’ post-shift hallway into an open room.
“We couldn’t even crack our food waiting for you!”
The lit-up room had a spread ready—ice buckets and amber liquor swapped for a bubbling kimchi stew pot, ashtrays and fruit plates gone.
“Didn’t the manager say we eat together after?”
I shook my head slowly, taking a spoon from Yeonwoo.
“Not mandatory, but weekdays, we usually eat and head out. No dorms, so they at least feed us once right. Most of us are from out of town—no roots here.”
I plopped down in the room that reeked of booze earlier. Taking rice and grilled fish, another host chimed in:
“You’re from Incheon, right?”
“Yeah. Was in Daegu, then Incheon. Met the manager and ended up here.”
From Incheon to Yeonsan was practically a demotion. Still, he yapped like it was great, then asked:
“Where’s the new guy from?”
Shoveling rice, I answered:
“Seoul.”
“Seoul where? I was in Jongno a bit.”
Jongno—probably Sunshine or Six Nine. A pretty boy like him? Iguana’s boss would’ve sampled him first.
“Didn’t do Jongno much. Stayed in Nowon, then worked Gangnam.”
At “Gangnam,” all eyes snapped to me. I braced for Why’s a guy from there here? Sure enough, a bulky host next to Yeonwoo spoke:
“Oh, the manager scouted you himself?”
“No. Friend’s intro.”
Their gazes drilled into me again.
“Not the manager?”
“Nope.”
“Then your friend—Hyun?”
Hyun? Who’s that? I picked at the fish, too lazy, and sipped stew broth instead.
“Who’s Hyun?”
“You don’t know Hyun?”
The vibe tanked fast. Whispers and glances—what the hell? Shit, just let me eat.
“He’s our ace. Manager went to Seoul to pick him—heard you’re the same age. Really don’t know?”
It clicked. The ace was Seoul-bred, hand-picked by the manager. They figured I was either scouted or referred by him.
Holding my spoon, I cursed wearing this suit. Dressed up fancy to hustle, and now I looked like some hotshot. That guy’s “snowflake” comment too—damn white suit.
“Do I need to know? Here to pour drinks, so I’ll pour and go. Let’s just eat.”
The mood crashed. I set my rice down, and right then, the manager burst in, calling:
“Lee Soyoon, come see me.”
Post-shift, he zeroed in on me, and the hosts’ stares screamed troublemaker, runaway. Tomorrow’s hazing was obvious.
Dropping my spoon, I left. In the manager’s office, Han Doopil—the bouncer who brought me here—smoked with him.
“Oh, couldn’t talk long earlier—busy. So, no after-hours?”
“Yeah. My old place didn’t allow doubles—sometimes couldn’t even take all the day’s clients. Fights over after-hours got bad, so I stopped long ago.”
Not bragging—my old spot was a different league. Top-tier male hosts for Gangnam’s land tycoons and corporate wives.
“So you won’t here either?”
“No, that’s tough…”
“You’re only good for a week then—cool with that?”
He’d brought up after-hours earlier too. When I refused, he’d scowled—now again.
“Kicking me out already?”
Han Doopil’s quip made the manager shake his head.
“If the boss finds out, you’re toast. Boss Ju won’t keep a guy who doesn’t fuck. Look—with that face, saying no to after-hours? Clients’ll mock you for being stuck-up. Why bother taking you?”
I stayed silent. This wasn’t Namgudong, and I hated after-hours. Just here to coast, not dig into this karaoke-tier dump.
“Still, your pretty face gets you a week. Earn your bus fare at least.”
He played nice, shooing me out, then added:
“Where you staying? No dorms here.”
“Nearby inn for now.”
At my polite reply, he handed me some yellowed bills.
“Get a room with this. Saw Uncle earlier? Stick with him.”
As I reached for the cash, his eyes narrowed.
“Don’t fuck up. Boss Ju’s scary—not like anyone you’ve met. Act tough, and you’re fish food in that sea, sliced by a sashimi knife. Got it?”
“Yes, understood.”
He left, and I exited, hopping into Uncle’s nine-seater van with the hosts. It dropped them off town by town.
I watched Yeonsan wake under the rising sun—ocean views I’d missed coming in, fishermen returning from dawn hauls.
Tired faces, lively voices. Trucks piled with seafood, fresh factory seaweed, thick unknown fish. Old-school ice carts, massive ice blocks—I’d never seen those.
Forehead against the window, I smirked.
Firsts weren’t just these.
A rich “Noona” picking me as ada—new. Her husband, Central Market’s top butcher—new. A billion-won yearly revenue getting VVIP treatment—new. That lame-flirting guy? Don’t get me started.
I stared at the blue, rippling sea from the moving van.
Exhaustion weighed me down.
A blaring alarm jolted me awake. Grabbing my phone—3 p.m. sharp—I scowled. The damp bedding and yellowed walls churned my stomach.
Pissed, I shot up and dialed Jaehoon. Hearing the ring, I grabbed a cigarette. His groggy voice answered:
— Hey, Soyoon.
“Hyung, what the hell’s going on?”
Skipping hellos, I unloaded my gripes.
—Why, couldn’t you meet the manager?
“No, I met him. I met him, but…”
The memory of yesterday’s events threatened to bring forth a string of curses.
“It’s completely different from what you said, hyung. It’s not Namgu-dong, and it’s not a street lined with bars. The ocean is visible far away, and the neighborhood elders walk around in slippers.”
He had said that Namgu-dong in Yeonsan was at least a decent area. Pension businesses thrived there, attracting plenty of customers and regular visitors, making it a lucrative spot. Furthermore, the place I was supposed to go to wasn’t ‘Queens’ but ‘Versace,’ supposedly the most popular host bar in Yeonsan.
“Not only are there no wealthy customers, but the bar’s interior looks like a karaoke room. Even if that’s the case, I’m not at the level of working as a helper, am I?”
With my phone pressed to my ear, I roughly counted the bills scattered across the table. I’d counted them twice, thrice yesterday, but this money was nowhere near enough.
“And yesterday, I earned 190,000 won after the house took its cut. Does that make any sense?”
I recounted everything that had happened yesterday, from the moment I stepped out of the Yeonsan terminal and got into the white Sonata to the last customer I served. After hearing it all, hyung questioned what it all meant.
—Tell me the manager’s name. Where the hell did they take you?
“Kang Jin. They call him Genie at the bar.”
—Alright. Hold on. I’ll look into it and call you back.
I exhaled a puff of smoke and sighed. After the call ended, I shoved the money into my wallet, fuming.
Hyung called back about 10 minutes later.
“So, what happened?”
—I found out. The place you went to yesterday and the place I originally intended to send you have the same owner. The owner of Versace recently acquired Queens. Since it’s only been open for a few months, and it probably has fewer customers than Namgu-dong, they likely sent you there.
Ha. Fuck.
It wasn’t that there were fewer customers; it was likely that the desired hosts weren’t available. Who would choose to work in that tacky, run-down place when there was the thriving Namgu-dong? Pouring drinks and doing host bar work is the same everywhere, so if I had to work, I’d rather be in Namgu-dong.
—So just stay there for a few days. Since the owner is the same, they might send you to Namgu-dong after a while…
“I can’t stay here long. I only agreed to a week.”
—What are you talking about?
“Hyung, they said they won’t keep me here unless I do after-hours services.”
—What?
“The manager said the owner doesn’t like it, but if the owner is the same for both Namgu-dong and here, then I can’t stay here anyway.”
—Who forces after-hours services these days?
“Exactly.”
It wasn’t that I never did after-hours services. If it was an important client or someone who seemed likely to pay well, I’d do it. But after-hours services lowered your value, and since fights often broke out between customers, even madams discouraged it. Yet, this place emphasized it, which made me uneasy.
—Soyoon.
Hyung sighed over the phone. A raspy voice followed, suggesting he’d lit a cigarette.
—Why would we endure serving drinks to women, being called hosts and sluts, if we weren’t going to do this?
“…….”
—Who would listen, even if we said we pay taxes and interest just like everyone else? You and I, the madam and manager at our place… we all have to sell our bodies and do this. The place you’re at is probably new, so the manager is pushing after-hours services to attract customers. If you don’t want to do it, just quit after a week. I’ll find you another place.
I sighed along with hyung. Knowing the reason behind the push for after-hours services and why I was sent to such a shabby place made me feel resigned.
—The manager is probably taking a gamble since the new-place buzz is dying down. Just try it for a few more days. That manager has a reputation for taking good care of his hosts.
“Well, he doesn’t seem like a complete bastard.”
He had given me 200,000 won for rent and even made sure I ate, so he seemed to have some human decency.
“By the way, how’s the Seoul scene?”
At my question, a rustling sound came from the other end of the phone, followed by the sleepy voice of a woman. I immediately understood the situation.
“Hyung, I’ll call you back later.”
—Yeah, okay. Call me later. Be sure to.
The call ended with the woman’s whining voice. I stubbed out my cigarette and rubbed my face roughly.
˚｡⋆
I needed several things but didn’t have time to shop. I ordered a quick meal, dropped off my shirt and suit from yesterday at the dry cleaners, and went down to the basement bathhouse. As expected, the bathhouse, divided into men’s and women’s sections, was dingy and smelled of stale water.
Still, the water was hot enough, which was better than the bathroom in my tiny motel room.
I stepped out of the hot tub and grabbed a bath towel. As I lathered myself with soap and cleaned my dejected penis, I heard the sound of a bathhouse chair scraping against the floor, followed by the sudden appearance of a long leg.
Ignoring it, I scrubbed myself thoroughly, even my pubic hair, and turned on the shower to rinse off. As I washed away the smell of alcohol clinging to my body, lathered shampoo into my hair, the long leg next to me pressed down on my wet foot and then suddenly reached out to touch my thigh. Startled, I yelled, “Fuck, what the hell?” and the hand on my thigh quickly retreated.
“What fucking bastard…”
Shampoo suds poured into my eyes. I cursed first and then glared with my blurry vision, but I couldn’t see clearly because of the foam.
The only things I could discern were that it was a relatively young guy with a somewhat slim build.
“Shit! Get over here!!”
My roar echoed through the bathhouse. The bathhouse attendant, who had been cleaning, rushed over in surprise.
“What’s going on?!”
“Where’s the guy who was just here?”
“The customer? He left!”
Damn it. All sorts of curses filled my head. I quickly rinsed my hair and jumped out of the bath. I followed him out and scanned the small interior, but he was gone. Only an old, open locker door remained, suggesting he’d grabbed his clothes and bolted.
I fumed, my penis dangling. The owner, who was at the counter, widened his eyes and asked,
“What happened?”
“Did you see the face of the man who just left?”
“The customer? I saw him, but why? Did you fight?”
Fuck. I glared at him and asked,
“Do you know him?”
“No. I don’t know him. How would I know him if I didn’t even get a good look at his face?”
“He was a young guy, right?”
“Yeah. Similar age to you.”
This was some fucked up shit. Ignoring the owner, who kept asking what had happened, I quickly dried myself and got dressed.
As I left the bathhouse, I muttered “Fuck.”
I walked back to Room 302, thinking I would kill the perverted bastard if I ever caught him again.
˚｡⋆
I had a feeling today was going to be shitty. Things felt off since I encountered that crazy pervert in the bathhouse, but I didn’t expect it to become this chaotic.
I approached the host who was glaring at me with bloodshot eyes. The others in the waiting room were trying to restrain him, but he looked ready to bash my face in with the ashtray in his hand.
“Do it.”
I shoved my face towards him. The guy, whose livelihood depended on his face, lunged forward as if he had nowhere else to go.
“Do it. Hit me and pay the price.”
“You fucking bastard!”
“Hit me. I dare you.”
I continued to push my face closer, and his hand holding the ashtray trembled. One of the burly hosts pulled him back, and the manager’s voice burst through the open door.
“What the hell are you doing! Trying to ruin business! You fucking bitches!”
The manager stormed in, grabbed a 1.5-liter water bottle, and started spraying. He splashed water on my face and practically poured it over the host holding the ashtray.
“Fucking bitches! Do you think I came down to this backwater and work my ass off just to watch you fight! I’m busting my balls trying to make some money with you little shits, and you bitches are fighting before opening! Put the ashtray down! You fucking bitch!”
Shouts echoed through the host waiting room, which quickly turned into a small flood. Water soaked into half-eaten jajangmyeon bowls, and overturned sweet and sour pork rolled around on the floor.
The manager continued to rant, kicking the small table in his rage. The host who started the commotion had already shut his mouth, and I stood to the side, lighting a cigarette and brushing off my wet suit.
“Fucking hell, which bitch started it?”
When no one spoke, Ji Yeonwoo, who was on my side, opened his mouth.
“Well, Moonjjo hyung was being a bit harsh with his words. Sunjung hyung offered to buy us jajangmyeon, so we were just quietly eating, but Moonjjo hyung started treating Sunjung hyung like a criminal…”
“When did I do that? That fucking bastard!”
Another round of curses erupted, and the manager pointed at the host who had been holding the ashtray.
“Moonjjo, you clueless piece of shit. If he’s a criminal, then what is this place, a criminal den?”
“Manager, it’s not like that. He knows my regular noona’s phone number…”
Then, with a bang, the manager kicked the edge of the sofa.
“Oh, wow, so proud of yourself. Losing a regular to a newbie who’s only been here two days. And you’re bragging about it? If it were me, kid, I’d be too ashamed to even open my mouth.”
Seeing that the manager’s lecture was about to get longer, I grabbed my jacket and left the waiting room. I crossed the hallway of the still-closed bar and stepped into the elevator, followed by someone rushing in behind me.
“Wow, hyung, you walk really fast. How can you not even look back?”
It was none other than Ji Yeonwoo. He had been acting cute, or trying to, since the first day, and now he was clinging to me.
“Aren’t you going to call your noonas?”
“I already called them all, timed with their closing times. I made some sweet talk, sent texts. I’m not like Moonjjo hyung.”
He winked as he said, “I’m different.”
“Is acting smug your hobby?”
“Oh, hyung, are you a boomer? It’s not being smug, it’s self-promotion. I don’t want to hide the fact that I was scouted to come here. I’m an early member, hand-picked. Our CEO personally picked me up.”
As he finished, the elevator arrived at the first floor. I passed the lottery ticket booth and headed outside, where the young helper who had driven me to the motel the first day opened the door for Yeonwoo and me.
“But hyung, you haven’t met our CEO yet, right?”
Now that he mentioned it, I hadn’t seen the owner yet. The manager called me before I left work, and I thought he was going to introduce me to the owner, but he just asked me some questions.
“You’ll be surprised when you see our CEO.”
I walked out of the building and looked at Yeonwoo with a questioning look.
“He’s really handsome.”
“Ah.”
I responded halfheartedly and took out a cigarette. I wasn’t so naive as to be surprised just because someone was handsome.
“Ah, no, I’m serious. He’s more handsome than those cool, successful hosts in Seoul. Of course, hyung, you’re quite good-looking too, but not as much as our CEO.”
He’s probably just a middle-aged pretty boy.
No matter how successful he was in this backwater town, he was just a host bar owner. Hopefully, he wasn’t a bald gangster or, even worse, a bloodsucking leech like one.
“What’s his personality like?”
I expected another stream of chatter, but surprisingly, he closed his mouth. He grabbed my arm and led me across the street into a pojangmacha (street food stall).
“What are you doing?”
He ignored my question and ordered two bowls of udon. Then, he said, “Auntie, we’ll have two odeng while we wait,” and handed me a skewer.
“Hyung, are you thinking about doing ‘mykkang’?”
I wondered what he was talking about out of the blue. He had been changing the subject ever since I asked about the CEO’s personality.
“It’s been ages since I quit. Why would I start again?”
“Then, hyung, have you ever had over a million won in unpaid bills when you were a madam?”
I took a bite of the fish cake and thought back.
“No. I almost did in my first month as a madam, but I quickly got my act together. Why?”
In places frequented by wealthy clients, unpaid bills could accumulate quickly and disappear just as fast. It was Jae-hoon hyung who had taught me about this and helped me avoid it.
“So, hyung, have you only worked at ‘jungpa’ (regular host bars)?”
“Yeah, pretty much. But why do you keep changing the subject?”
Just then, our udon arrived. As I looked at the bowls placed on the long, straight table, the owner with permed hair glanced at me and asked,
“Newbie?”
“Yeah, new host. He’s really handsome, right?”
“Oh my, he’s the handsomest of all the helpers I’ve seen. How can he be so fair and handsome?”
Normally, I would have thanked her for the compliment, but I wasn’t myself. My face had almost met an ashtray. Experiencing that shit before even opening for business had soured my mood, and Yeonwoo kept dodging my question.
“Don’t do ‘mykkang’ if you can avoid it. You borrow money and then can’t pay it back, right?”
Yeonwoo turned to look at me intently and said,
“They’ll gut you.”
“…….”
“Skipped town after ripping them off?”
“…….”
“They’ll take out two of your organs and sell them on an island.”
“…….”
“Think I’m joking?”
Yeonwoo held up a finger and wagged it in front of my face. He spoke as if he was dead serious, but it sounded like something out of a movie, so it didn’t faze me.
“Not that he’s a malicious owner, though. He’s just very strict about money. But he pays what he owes promptly, and he doesn’t care if you hang out or date clients. As long as the boxes are managed well, he sometimes throws bonus dinners. He’s decent. Of course, all of this applies after you sign the contract.”
His last words made me chuckle. So this was a place bound by contracts, where you couldn’t even hook up without the owner’s permission.
“The manager will smooth things over about the fight earlier, but you shouldn’t fight like that when the CEO is around.”
“What if he shows up mid-fight?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure. The helpers usually call him in, so most fights stop midway. Ah, so hyung, did you sign a contract? How many months did you agree to?”
I snapped my chopsticks apart to eat the untouched udon.
“I haven’t even seen the CEO’s face, so what…”
Just then, Yeonwoo’s phone buzzed. He widened his eyes as he looked at the screen.
“Hyung, I have a really important client calling! Keep eating.”
Before he even left the pojangmacha, he blurted out, “Yes! I was waiting for your call!” I paused my chopsticks at his voice and then started eating again.
I slurped the udon sprinkled with seaweed flakes. Thinking about it, Moonjjo had reason to be upset. The moment Moonjjo’s regular saw me, she chose me, saying I was pretty. She talked to me and gave me a tip, even though Moonjjo, her partner, was right there.
Considering I got a hefty tip and her phone number just for pouring a few drinks last night, Moonjjo had a right to be sarcastic.
He was probably working hard to win over that client, but what could he do? As the manager said, it was his own fault for being incompetent enough to lose a client to a newbie who’d only been there for two days. He was an idiot for losing a client and then throwing a tantrum… Then I heard footsteps and someone sat down next to me. I naturally assumed it was Yeonwoo returning after his call.
“Yeonwoo. If you’re booked, I’ll go in for the next choice…”
“Don’t you have any appointments yet?”
The sudden voice made me turn my head sharply.
“Since we’re about to open, how about I give you your first customer?”
It was a man. The man from yesterday was sitting in Yeonwoo’s seat. He was facing me across the straight table, his broad back and arms leaning against it.
“You said I could come visit you yesterday. Ah, not yesterday. Early this morning.”
I gulped. His features, even clearer than they were under the streetlight, sent shivers down my spine. His distinctively dark eyes were long and sharp, and his high nose was so defined it seemed almost delicate. His masculine jawline flowed into a broad, strong neck and shoulders, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his long, feminine lashes.
He’s fucking handsome. Shit.
He must know how he looks. Who wouldn’t notice such a handsome face?
“There’s no need for that.”
The man tilted his head at my response, looking at me as if I were a child. My appetite vanished.
“Why? You need to serve customers to make a living.”
“You don’t seem to need the money.”
“What’s different about my money?”
“I’m a man.”
I stared directly into the eyes of the man, who was wearing a flamboyant shirt again today. As I looked at him with an expression devoid of any emotion, one of his wrinkle-free eyes twitched slightly.
“If you’re interested in men, please look elsewhere. I only serve female customers and don’t know how to cater to men.”
I tried to be as polite as possible. This man seemed unusual, and I didn’t want to get on his bad side and risk getting beaten up.
“Who doesn’t know you’re a man?”
Did that mean he was still interested? I tried to imagine serving drinks to this man and almost swore out loud. I could pour him a drink, but if he were to touch my thigh, caress my chest, or pull my hand to his damp crotch like the female customers…
“I’m sorry, but I don’t serve male customers. The place I work at is a ‘jungpa,’ (straight-only) so they don’t accept men…”
“Who said it’s a ‘jungpa’?”
“Huh?”
“Do you even know what you’re talking about?”
The man now stared at me openly. The childlike gaze was gone, replaced with a dark, intense look that reminded me of him touching my eyebrow yesterday. The memory of the two tattoos peeking out from his shirt also came back, reinforcing my desire to keep my distance.
“Yes, I know what I’m talking about, and I don’t serve male customers. So, enjoy your meal and please leave.”
I stood up and paid for Yeon-woo’s meal as well. I placed a 10,000 won bill on the table and was about to leave the pojangmacha when something blocked my way.
It was the man’s shoe. He extended the tip of his spotless shoe, stopping me in my tracks.
“Who said you could leave?”
The man’s long legs, blocking my path, were toned. Except for his atrocious shirt choices, his physique and the line of his legs extending to his hips were undeniable. I’d noticed it yesterday too, but his languid posture and sparkling eyes seemed too good for a gangster.
“And you’re even having other thoughts?”
“…….”
“What were you thinking about while looking at me?”
I quickly averted my gaze from his body and retorted,
“Whatever I think is my business.”
“Then tell me what you were thinking, as you please.”
I wondered what was going on. But the man was looking at me intently, his eyes wide with what seemed like genuine curiosity.
“Um… if you could tell me what you want…”
“You have no intention of accommodating me anyway. So what am I supposed to say?”
“…….”
“Will you do it if I tell you to?”
Did that mean he had something he wanted me to do? I politely stepped around his foot. Then, instead of running away, I faced him with an expression that suggested I was ready for a proper conversation.
“Why are you doing this to me, starting from yesterday, or rather, early this morning? Did I do something to offend you?”
But the man didn’t answer. He just smiled, the corners of his lips curling up just like when he first saw me under the streetlight.
“You’re definitely used goods, but you’re trying to hide it? Is that it?”
What was he talking about now?
“Interesting. You say you don’t do anal even though you’re a bottom. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard lately.”
He slowly scanned me from bottom to top. He looked at my body and chest, clad in a dark suit unlike yesterday, and finally, my face, before speaking.
“Fine. Go.”
The man pulled back his outstretched leg and gestured for me to leave. Despite his light smile, a chilling aura emanated from him.
His gaze, especially the way he looked at my face, was peculiar. I couldn’t tell if it was interest or a warning.
I left the pojangmacha without looking back. As I let out a held breath, I saw Yeon-woo talking on the phone in a corner of the stall.
“Oh? Hyung, you’re already leaving…!”
I grabbed his shirt without a word and dragged him back towards the building, retracing our steps.
Even though the bar wasn’t exactly a sanctuary, I only breathed a sigh of relief when we reached Queens.
Yeonwoo, who had been dragged along, kept calling out “Hyung, hyung,” but my ears were ringing, so I just went straight into the host waiting room.
In any case, he was a man I didn’t want to know anything about.