PTK Ch 6

Euihyun, unaware of what would come of it, silently followed the instruction. As his weight shifted onto the braced arm, the distance between him and Cha Yiljoo naturally closed. Without the camera, it would look like he was straddling Yiljoo. He had no idea where to rest his eyes. Oblivious to his discomfort, Yiljoo encouraged him.

“It might be hard to get into, but for now, just think of me as a sexy woman.”

He seemed to be trying to picture someone. The name he uttered was completely unexpected.

“…Who was it? Im Suhyun, right?”

That was the actor Euihyun had named as his ideal type at last year’s awards ceremony. If only it could be that way. Whether it was Im Suhyun or anyone else, as long as it wasn’t Cha Yiljoo beneath him, it would be fine. At least he wouldn’t be this flustered.

The photographer snapped shots quickly, adding minor requests. Yiljoo closed his eyes again and relayed the instructions casually.

“Look at me like you’re going to devour me.”

It was getting worse by the minute. Better to finish quickly. Euihyun shut his eyes tightly and yanked the leather leash harder. His elbows naturally sharpened, and his upper body leaned closer to Yiljoo. With lips firmly pressed, he glared at Yiljoo’s closed eyelids through narrowed eyes.

The shutter sound intensified. The photographer circled Euihyun, constantly encouraging him. Euihyun had no sense of how the photos were turning out. No, he couldn’t think of anything else. Fearing his breath might fall on Yiljoo’s face, he held it for a while.

“OK!”

No heavenly bell could sound sweeter. Euihyun exhaled and quickly averted his gaze. He hurriedly got off Yiljoo’s body. The staff monitored the photos, checking for good shots and areas to improve. Meanwhile, the models hydrated or checked their styling. Euihyun also soothed his parched throat. For some reason, even a full bottle of water didn’t quench his thirst.

“They say we’re almost there.”

Yiljoo relayed the staff’s conversation. It wasn’t much comfort. Hundreds or thousands of shots might be taken, but only one would make the ad. They hadn’t captured that one yet.

After a brief meeting, the staff dispersed to their positions. The director gave the models more specific instructions. Yiljoo, listening quietly, smirked mischievously.

“What?”

“They want something even more provocative than before.”

Did they really say that? Euihyun glanced at the client, who stood with arms crossed, looking utterly conservative.

Maybe he misheard. The phrase was so unlike Yiljoo that it felt like a spell. Yiljoo, as if nothing happened, reassured Euihyun.

“Tough, right? Let’s nail it in one go.”

That was exactly what Euihyun wanted. He nodded earnestly.

“Then kneel like before?”

Following the order, Euihyun knelt on both knees. The photographer made additional requests, which Yiljoo faithfully conveyed.

“Can you lean your upper body back? Not just your neck—your whole torso.”

Euihyun slowly tilted his head back. As his center of gravity shifted, his hips nearly grazed Yiljoo’s thighs. He strained to avoid contact. His unsupported body trembled.

The photographer gave another instruction. It was short and clear enough for Euihyun to hear. But how could he possibly comply? Hesitating with a troubled expression, Yiljoo gently urged.

“Euihyun, sit on me.”

“No…”

“Just relax.”

“Wait, hold on…”

“It’s okay.”

Yiljoo suddenly pressed Euihyun’s knees. His precariously balanced body collapsed onto Yiljoo’s thighs. He felt the firm support beneath. Also, the sensation of his buttocks colliding with Yiljoo’s dense thighs. Friction affects both parties, so Yiljoo must have felt it too.

Euihyun bowed his head deeply. Yiljoo remained unfazed, holding Euihyun’s knees and listening to the photographer’s final instructions. As the photographer took test shots to check the composition, he soothed the immobilized Euihyun.

“It’s in front of the camera. Don’t be shy.”

It was just a shoot. There was no reason to inject personal feelings, feel ashamed, or hold back.

Steeling himself, Euihyun gripped the leash tightly. He leaned his torso back as before. His neck and head traced a smooth arc. With his weight on Yiljoo, his posture stayed steady. He relaxed his facial muscles completely.

Unexpectedly flexible, his waist, back, neck, and head formed a sleek, elegant line. Despite no exposed skin, an inexplicably sensual aura emanated. The camera captured the moment breathlessly. Yiljoo, watching Euihyun with lowered eyes, suddenly unbuttoned his shirt. His broad shoulders, straight collarbone, and chiseled pecs were laid bare. Amid the fierce shutter sounds, Yiljoo whispered just for Euihyun.

“If it’s uncomfortable, bear with it for a bit. I’ll touch you lightly.”

Immediately, Yiljoo’s hand grazed Euihyun’s thigh. Lifting his torso slightly, he spread his hand and gripped Euihyun’s thigh firmly. The pressure made Euihyun’s lips part slightly as he gasped. The camera didn’t miss it.

His body’s curve and expressionless face, reminiscent of an orgasmic moment, formed a stark contrast. The intense presence, as if devouring him, created a perfect ensemble.

His lower back began to ache. His breath was woefully short. But harder to endure was Yiljoo’s body heat pressed against him. Thump, thump. His heart raced wildly. Each shutter click felt like an eternity.

Finally, the shutter stopped. A hearty “OK” followed. The staff clapped enthusiastically.

“Good job, Euihyun.”

Yiljoo grinned at Euihyun, who collapsed to the side, catching his breath. Euihyun couldn’t manage a smile back.

The models gathered around the monitor. Only the review remained. At Yiljoo’s urging, Euihyun joined them.

Embarrassing photos flipped by with depth. The initial awkwardness was captured vividly. Those shots didn’t linger long on the screen.

As they neared the end, provocative images lined up. Euihyun couldn’t look directly at his own shots. Watching porn together wouldn’t feel this embarrassing. In contrast, Yiljoo maintained a dry gaze, like reading a newspaper.

At the next shot, a playful whistle came from the staff. Glancing at the monitor, Euihyun was stunned.

If he weren’t clothed, it could be mistaken for a sex scene—perfectly capturing a climactic moment. His slightly flushed cheeks made it worse. Was it that strenuous? No, his cheeks were red for another reason. His palms sweated. His nape chilled. The praises didn’t register.

Stealing a glance, Yiljoo was silently fixed on the monitor. Euihyun’s eyes shifted to the on-screen Yiljoo. The shadow of his thigh under Yiljoo’s grip was provocative. His intense gaze, like a predator, and his taut jaw, craving something, amplified his wild allure. The sharp lines from forehead to nose to lips doubled the effect. His dark eyes held a desperate edge.

Was he looking at Euihyun like that?

His briefly calmed heart raced again. He couldn’t understand why. Yiljoo’s gaze remained glued to the monitor, showing no emotional stir. Not even a blink.

What was he looking at? What was he thinking?

“…As expected.”

Yiljoo spoke suddenly. Euihyun’s head whipped around. Meeting his eyes, Yiljoo smiled as usual.

“See? I knew you’d do well. You expressed it so convincingly, it might cause some uncomfortable misunderstandings.”

It was clearly a compliment. Yet Euihyun instinctively clutched his collar. His racing heart seemed to plummet. The aftermath left his chest aching inside. All that lingered was “uncomfortable misunderstandings.”

What had he expected otherwise?

“…….”

Feeling wretched, he stared at the floor. Yiljoo, celebrating the successful shoot with others, didn’t notice. People quickly crowded around him. The models he worked with took photos and chatted. Feeling like an outsider again, Euihyun stepped aside.

A model abruptly spoke to him. Euihyun answered haltingly, and the model offered a handshake. He took the extended hand without suspicion and let go. The model, smiling faintly, praised Euihyun in simple terms. His blue eyes sparkled with curiosity toward the unfamiliar Asian.

Then, someone wrapped an arm around Euihyun’s shoulder from behind. Startled, he turned to see Yiljoo grinning. Yiljoo introduced Euihyun to the model. My friend. Among his many words, that one stuck. The model suggested something, but Yiljoo declined politely. To Euihyun’s curious look, he brushed it off, saying, “It’s nothing.”

“We should grab a drink today. Let’s clean off the makeup and go.”

With his arm still around Euihyun, his whisper sounded prolonged. Euihyun, wary of touching if he nodded, barely managed a “Yes.”

A knock turned his head. Outside the car stood the model—Brett, was it? He gestured for Euihyun to lower the window. Without suspicion, Euihyun complied. A note was slipped through. Taking it reflexively, Brett mimed a phone call, then lightly gripped and released Euihyun’s chin. Frozen by the sudden act, his mind blanked. Brett grinned, honked twice without explanation, and left.

Soon, Yiljoo, makeup removed, got in the car. Euihyun hurriedly stuffed the note into his pocket.

“There’s a regular bar nearby. For avoiding interruptions, it’s the best spot. That okay?”

“Yes. Whatever’s convenient.”

Yiljoo told the driver the destination and leaned back deeply. His long exhale sounded weary. His lowered eyelids showed deep fatigue.

He’d likely been working nonstop around the anniversary event. His early arrival was to clear backlog schedules. Tomorrow and the day after were booked too. Euihyun suggested he rest early, but Yiljoo’s hint of disappointment stopped him from pressing.

“Rest until we get there.”

“Thanks.”

Yiljoo smiled faintly at Euihyun’s concern, closing his eyes without protest. Not wanting to disturb him, Euihyun looked out the window. This was his first time abroad. He’d never even been to nearby China or Japan. Since childhood, life’s demands left no room for such things.

Maybe that’s why, despite knowing a different world existed on the other side of the globe, the scenery beyond the window felt unreal.

The car left the congested main road and entered a nearby alley. The street narrowed, and pubs and clubs lined up. Loud music played as if night never came, and neon signs flashed. Groups of people laughed and reveled in their excitement.

Deep into the area, the car stopped. Yiljoo, not asleep, opened his eyes. Stepping out, the surroundings were eerily quiet, not sketchy with loiterers but dark and clean, creating an odd dissonance. They walked side by side.

Euihyun froze when a shutter sound rang out.

“…Huh?”

Startled, he looked around, but no one stood out. A mistake? Tilting his head, he took another step, and the distinct shutter sound came again.

“It’s common, so don’t mind it. This way.”

Unfazed, Yiljoo turned into a narrow side street. The camera noise followed his movements. Paparazzi. Euihyun had heard about blatant privacy invasions, but experiencing it was bewildering. Staring toward the sound, he hurried after Yiljoo.

At the end of the alley was a signless shop. Jazz music drifted from inside. Yiljoo rang the bell, and a guard in a black suit stepped out, checking a card before letting them pass.

The interior contrasted sharply with the exterior. Expecting a small club, Euihyun was surprised by the upscale decor. The low lighting and layout resembled a lounge, but without a decadent vibe. Waiters, dressed like hotel staff, moved quietly through the halls.

They were led to a private room. Closing the door blocked out the shop’s music. Yiljoo transferred ice to prepared glasses and explained.

“One of the few places you can drink comfortably. It’s members-only, with separate entrances for each room, so guests rarely cross paths.”

“Earlier…”

“Most members dislike attention. That’s why paparazzi camp out there.”

Finishing his brief explanation, he handed Euihyun a glass with a large ice cube and whiskey.

“No one’s watching, so let loose tonight.”

Yiljoo raised his glass slightly. Euihyun nodded, lightly clinking his glass against Yiljoo’s. Habitually turning aside, he took a sip. The whiskey’s heavy smoky flavor stung as it slid down his throat, quickly warming his chilled body.

Yiljoo refilled his glass after a single sip and asked casually.

“Is this your first time in the U.S.?”

“Yes. Actually, it’s my first time abroad.”

“Really? How’s it feel, being in a new country for the first time?”

“Well, everything trivial feels fascinating, like a dream, a bit awkward… and strangely nostalgic.”

“Nostalgic? For what?”

“…Home.”

Yiljoo raised his eyebrows in surprise, then smirked playfully.

“What, missing those flowerpots waiting for you?”

At the teasing, Euihyun’s eyes darted aside. His ears felt slightly warm. Embarrassed but resolute, he shared his thoughts.

“Everything’s nice. The bed’s comfortable, the food’s delicious, everyone’s kind. But it’s not relaxing. I wake up multiple times at night, and during meals, I suddenly crave stew. People who love travel often say it—exploring new places is fun, but being away makes you fond of your old life. I think I get that now.”

Yiljoo nodded absently, listening intently. The next question showed it was a casual gesture.

“But going back like this feels like a waste, right?”

He glanced at Euihyun slantwise, as if prodding, “Doesn’t it?”

“…Maybe.”

“How about staying with me?”

“What?”

“You don’t have any schedules, and since you’re here, why not relax and sightsee? Sounds good.”

He added, “I’ll talk to Kim for you.” But Euihyun’s response was lukewarm.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Think positively. I’m bored, so consider it helping a lonely neighbor.”

Yiljoo subtly pressed his point. Euihyun reluctantly said, “Okay.” It wasn’t a firm yes, but Yiljoo messaged Simon Kim without hesitation. Tossing his phone aside, he advised.

“But that doesn’t mean meet just anyone while I’m not around.”

“What do you mean?”

“Brett. If he gave you his number, ignore it. His reputation’s bad.”

So that’s why. Brett’s odd friendliness from the start and Yiljoo’s sudden interference now made sense. Euihyun wondered if he’d unconsciously given off some vibe during the shoot. He quietly gripped the note in his pocket.

Flinching when something bumped his glass, he saw Yiljoo chuckle at his reaction. Yiljoo tilted the bottle to refill Euihyun’s glass.

“He’s a known player. Drags men or women to bed indiscriminately. Famous for bad endings too. He seemed overly interested in you, so I meddled. Sorry if it offended you.”

“…No, it’s fine.”

Euihyun subtly avoided Yiljoo’s gaze, downing his whiskey in one go. The sharp sting made him wince. Yiljoo, glancing at him, remarked as if he’d long noticed.

“I’ve never heard you talk about people around you. Family, partner, friends, even colleagues—you don’t mention them. No photos at your place either. Didn’t you say there’s someone waiting?”

Caught off guard by the topic, Euihyun looked at Yiljoo with wide eyes. Yiljoo turned to face him. As their gazes locked, Yiljoo asked without hesitation.

“Can I ask who that is?”

“…….”

A brief silence followed. Euihyun’s lips sealed shut. His eyes dropped to the floor. Even after some time, the conversation showed no sign of resuming.

Too personal a question?

“If it’s hard to answer…”

“…My younger sibling.”

“Your sibling?”

Yiljoo echoed reflexively. Euihyun nodded slowly. A deep curiosity settled on Yiljoo’s face. Euihyun scratched the glass’s surface, pausing briefly.

“Most chicken shops open in the afternoon. Two p.m. at the earliest, maybe noon if they’re really early. They stay open late, and people don’t eat chicken for breakfast. But there’s a place that opens at seven a.m.”

Yiljoo couldn’t guess where this was going. Seeing his puzzled look, Euihyun smiled faintly. As the smile faded, he continued.

“There’s a small market near my house. It’s slated for redevelopment, so most shops have closed. A few hold on until demolition. One’s an old-school chicken shop frying in a big cauldron. Some days they sell fewer than three chickens, but they open faithfully every morning. You can tell their situation from the side jobs spread on empty tables. The ex-husband shows up now and then. Third or fourth husband, I don’t know. She’s not loose, just unlucky. Her first husband went missing, the second died by suicide, the third keeps getting jailed. Even if it’s the price for abandoning her child, it feels too harsh.”

Yiljoo began to sense the connection between the shop owner and Euihyun. His gaze fixed inexplicably on the necklace Euihyun always wore.

“Whenever the ex-husband visits, neither the shop nor she fares well. She won’t report him, saying the kid in the hospital shouldn’t miss seeing their dad. The child’s been in the hospital since birth, apparently. I’ve never seen their face. I only heard recently. Before that, we lived over a decade without knowing if the other was alive.”

Euihyun suddenly gripped his necklace. A worn gold ring hung as a pendant. Their bond had persisted thanks to it.

“You saw my debut film, so you can guess. After our mother left, I lived with my younger sibling. At first, I thought she went to find our father. She vanished while preparing dinner. Months passed without her return. When I finally reported it to the police, they found traces of her life and told me where she was. It wasn’t far from home. If she was alive and well but didn’t contact us, the reason was obvious. I kept it from my sibling. Then I visited her once, in winter, when we were asked to vacate our place. I was a minor, so it was chaotic. Her place was smaller and shabbier. We didn’t talk. Fearing my sibling would find out, she hurriedly gave me her ring and some money. Seven or eight thousand won, I don’t recall exactly. She begged me not to come back.”

“…….”

“I didn’t tell my sibling that either. One of us hurting was enough. I alone needed to know we were abandoned. After that, I worked any job I could. Paid rent, covered living costs. We managed. It was okay. I met Director Park by chance at a job, filmed a movie I never dreamed of, and turned twenty. My sibling was happiest about me becoming an actor.”

“But why?”

Unable to hold back, Yiljoo asked. Euihyun gazed at him silently. His eyes seemed on the verge of breaking.

“My sibling found out. That I…”

Euihyun couldn’t finish. Yiljoo’s curiosity deepened. He waited patiently, but Euihyun seemed unwilling to say more. It sounded like a secret his sibling discovered. What was it? What could make a sibling abandon the brother who supported them? Yiljoo couldn’t fathom it.

Euihyun’s home had everything in pairs, ready for the awaited return, ensuring no inconvenience.

After their family fell apart, that sibling was his only kin. Though Yiljoo hadn’t witnessed it, he could vividly imagine young Euihyun’s struggles. For whatever reason, the sibling was now estranged. How could they? Yiljoo’s brow furrowed openly. He found himself resenting someone he’d never met.

Looking at Euihyun now, so upright and gentle, it was hard to believe he had lived such a shadowed life. How could someone abandoned by those he loved most remain so unblemished? Wasn’t he lonely? In a life shunned by family and audiences alike, he had always…

“How did you endure it?”

It was a question, yet not a question. Even imagining it was daunting. Euihyun smiled faintly, as if embarrassed.

“Just because I wasn’t happy doesn’t mean all those days were unhappy.”

Cha Yiljoo looked at Euihyun as if struck. It wasn’t hollow self-consolation or foolish rationalization. He was truly resilient. Euihyun, head bowed, didn’t notice Yiljoo’s changing expression, nor the quiet, deep smile that followed.

The heavy confession of a painful past weighed down the air. Euihyun, eyes fixed on the floor, remained silent. Leaving him be for a moment, Yiljoo refilled their empty glasses to lighten the mood.

“Have you decided on your next project?”

The abrupt shift in topic made Euihyun meet his gaze instantly. His face showed surprise. Yiljoo grinned and asked again, “Have you decided?”

“No, not yet.”

“It’s a critical time, so deliberating carefully isn’t bad.”

He nodded understandingly, then tossed out another question.

“How are the plants at home doing?”

It was wildly out of nowhere. Confusion clouded Euihyun’s face.

“Fine, I think.”

“You’ve been away a while. What if they wilt?”

“I watered them plenty before leaving, but…”

Yiljoo nodded again. Sipping his whiskey, he kept his eyes locked on Euihyun. The gaze felt burdensome, and Euihyun scratched his glass repeatedly. Soon, another trivial question came.

“What’s the dish you cook best?”

“Nothing special, really. Just stuff I’ve mimicked from watching.”

He answered haltingly. Yiljoo, for some reason, wore a mischievous look. It didn’t seem like genuine curiosity, and Euihyun couldn’t discern his intent. Was it teasing? Or was there something to glean from these mundane questions? Lost in thought, he forgot he’d been dwelling on gloomy memories.

After a while, Yiljoo chuckled and asked.

“Don’t you have any questions for me, Euihyun?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve never asked me anything.”

That was… Euihyun opened his mouth but closed it again. He wanted to know everything about Yiljoo, even the smallest details. Yet he hadn’t asked, assuming Yiljoo would shy away from personal topics. Why had he thought that? No matter how he traced it, there was no basis for that assumption. Yiljoo had never shown distaste, yet Euihyun had held back, vaguely fearing he’d be a bother. What he thought was consideration might have felt like indifference to Yiljoo, perhaps even disappointment that Euihyun showed no interest.

“Well, then… why are you so kind to me?”

He regretted it instantly. The question he’d been most curious about but couldn’t voice had come out too bluntly. Yiljoo’s eyes widened. Euihyun bowed his head deeply, his ears burning red. Yiljoo’s lips curved into a silent laugh.

“Because you, Euihyun…”

He started but trailed off. Euihyun peeked up, staring intently at Yiljoo’s lips, as if his ears were perked. Yiljoo added in a seemingly amused tone.

“I find you intriguing.”

Thud. Something sank inside. His mouth gaped, eyes wide. He wasn’t sure he’d heard or understood correctly.

“…What?”

His dazed response came a beat late. A siren blared in his mind. He gripped his collar tightly under the table, unable to hide his stunned expression.

“You seemed kind, naive, unaware of how to play the game.”

“…Oh.”

Euihyun stared at Yiljoo with confused eyes. Yiljoo met his gaze openly, tilting his head as if puzzled by the palpable bewilderment.

“Why does everyone react like that?”

Apparently, others had asked similar questions.

“Is it wrong to want to be friends with someone gentle and kind like you, Euihyun?”

Of course not. It’d be a lie to say Yiljoo’s explanation didn’t please him. But it also left him hollow, for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint.

Yiljoo, refilling his glass, added as a colleague.

“You don’t betray time, you’re already good at your craft, and you’re still diligent. You’re not some run-of-the-mill actor, Euihyun. It’s almost unfair how people don’t see that.”

Euihyun fidgeted with his hands. He should be used to Yiljoo’s praise by now, but it still tickled. He didn’t know how to respond. Saying thanks felt awkward, and staying silent seemed arrogant.

Feeling embarrassed, he hurriedly changed the subject.

“Do you have someone you’re seeing…”

But he couldn’t finish. The door burst open suddenly. Euihyun looked toward it, startled. A group stood in the hallway.

“Yiljoo!”

They called out in unison. Yiljoo sprang up and approached them, a bright smile already on his face. They clasped hands, bumped shoulders. A petite woman grabbed Yiljoo’s face and rubbed cheeks with him freely. They seemed close enough to enter this private space casually.

They lingered at the door, catching up. It seemed like a rare reunion. Not content, they dragged Yiljoo to their room. He complied, asking for understanding.

“Euihyun, just a moment.”

“Okay. Take your time.”

Euihyun nodded awkwardly. Yiljoo and the group left the room noisily. Rising to close the abandoned door, someone stepped in. It was the woman who’d rubbed cheeks with Yiljoo. Face-to-face, Euihyun recognized her.

“Hello.”

Her slurred speech wasn’t just from drunkenness. Euihyun bowed reflexively, accepting her greeting. She stumbled, collapsing onto the sofa, nearly passing out. She brought Euihyun’s glass to her lips without hesitation.

“Korean?”

Using awkward Korean repeatedly, it was none other than Terajima Erika. Known for her innocent charm, she was beloved in Korea. She’d vanished from screens, living reclusively, and Euihyun hadn’t expected to see her here.

Terajima patted the seat beside her. She seemed too drunk to hold her head up. It was unclear if they could communicate, but as Yiljoo’s acquaintance, Euihyun felt obliged to look after her until he returned. He sat far at the sofa’s edge. Terajima pointed at him abruptly.

“First time seeing you.”

“You speak Korean?”

“Yeah. Yiljoo taught me.”

She leaned closer, rolling her round eyes to study Euihyun closely. Then she giggled for no reason. Even after time, she remained endearing.

Terajima kept babbling in Korean, but most words were unintelligible. What was clear was her constant mention of “Yiljoo.”

“You know him?”

After pouring out incomprehensible words, Terajima mumbled while refilling her glass. Most of the liquor spilled. Even filling it, it overflowed. Euihyun reflexively stood to wipe the wet table.

Terajima laughed, pulling Euihyun’s arm to sit beside her, resting her head on his shoulder. A thick alcohol scent hit him.

“No, you don’t. Not Yiljoo.”

She shook her head, muttering nonsense, grinning at Euihyun and wagging her finger. Eventually, she rolled her small head on his shoulder, breathing heavily, ready to pass out.

Euihyun was at a loss, his body tensing.

“Hey.”

A familiar voice cut through. Euihyun’s eyes darted to the door. Terajima laboriously lifted her heavy eyelids. Spotting Yiljoo, she smirked.

“Hey.”

She replied softly, approaching Yiljoo. Wrapping her arms around his neck looked utterly natural. Supporting her as she leaned into him, Yiljoo gave an apologetic look.

“I’ll take her back.”

“Okay.”

Left alone, Euihyun sat dazed. How did it come to this? Reflecting, he sighed at the self-loathing. Spilling his past wasn’t enough; he nearly revealed his sexual identity. Even if Yiljoo listened well, Euihyun had foolishly let the mood sweep him away.

And that question about whether Yiljoo was seeing someone—what was he trying to achieve? The more he dwelled, the worse his headache. The pungent alcohol smell churned his stomach. He needed fresh air.

He stood abruptly, grabbed his phone, and headed out. Retracing his steps, he stopped short. Turning a corner, he faced two figures pressed together in the dark. Only silhouettes, but he knew who they were. He hid quickly.

“Please. I’ll do better.”

It was Terajima’s voice, pleading or coaxing. Yiljoo’s voice didn’t come. Between the music, only Terajima’s sobs, irritated complaints, and sounds of a struggle were audible. Euihyun should leave. It was private, even for a close acquaintance. But his legs wouldn’t move, glued to the floor.

Then, Terajima let out a low scream.

“You’re totally wasted.”

It was unmistakably Yiljoo’s voice, uncharacteristically cold.

Euihyun fled back to the room. He’d seen something he shouldn’t have. His heart pounded fiercely. His throat burned. In a panic, he downed the liquor like water. It didn’t quench his thirst.

As he set down the empty glass, Yiljoo entered, smiling as usual, apologizing for his long absence.

“Kept you waiting? They’re old colleagues, and seeing them after so long, they wouldn’t let me go.”

He seemed calm, as if nothing happened. Euihyun tried not to show anything.

Yiljoo poured fresh liquor, asking what they’d been talking about. Euihyun hoped he’d forgotten, but that hope was dashed.

“Oh, I’m not seeing anyone now. I was until two years ago.”

Somehow, Euihyun knew who that was. If Yiljoo had dated people like Terajima, there was no chance. Chance for what? His heart thudded heavily. A chill ran through him.

“But you’re curious about that, Euihyun?”

Yiljoo’s surprised reaction came. Euihyun gave a vague smile, his lips twitching. Fearing he’d look foolish, he downed his drink. As he reached to refill, Yiljoo gently held his hand. “Slow down.” His calm voice came closer. Euihyun yanked his hand away.

Right then.

The quiet door slammed loudly. A woman’s furious shouts echoed. Her enraged yelling was unintelligible, but “Yiljoo” was clear. Terajima was back.

The door, locked, rattled violently but didn’t budge. Terajima pounded and kicked it in a rage. Staff arrived soon. Her resistant voice faded from the door. A clear knock followed. Yiljoo opened it, and a staff member apologized for the disturbance.

After the staff left, the room fell into uneasy silence. Yiljoo, standing by the door, sighed deeply, raking his hair roughly. Euihyun felt self-conscious. Yiljoo’s voice, calling “Euihyun,” carried a hint of exhaustion.

“Shall we move?”

He turned, smiling faintly.

“It’s usually quiet here…”

But tonight was noisy. His added words sounded bitter. For a moment, his face seemed to harden. He appeared upset. Euihyun’s chest grew cold. His heart beat unpleasantly. Too much drinking?

Yiljoo grabbed his coat and said, “Alright.” His usual smile returned.

“Let’s go to my hotel room. There’s liquor there too.”

Euihyun nodded slowly. Yiljoo said, “Come on,” and stepped out first. A chill seemed to emanate from him. He was human, capable of anger or irritation. Yet, never having seen him like this, it felt unfamiliar.

The nausea wasn’t just from that. Whatever happened between Yiljoo and Terajima, seeing Yiljoo coldly push away someone clinging to him was frightening. That formless fear stemmed from an unexpected kinship with Terajima, despite having nothing in common.

Yiljoo must have been kind to her once. Yet he drew a cold line, barely engaging. Euihyun’s fist clenched. He didn’t want to disappoint Yiljoo. He didn’t want his secret exposed to him. It wasn’t about wanting a closer relationship or being special to him. He just didn’t want Yiljoo to despise or turn away from him.

During the taxi ride, neither spoke. Yiljoo, who’d asked for permission, opened the window, letting the breeze hit him. Euihyun only picked at his fingers. The driver kept glancing at the tense atmosphere through the rearview mirror.

Entering the room, Yiljoo, still in his coat, grabbed liquor. Euihyun, as if in a stranger’s home, paced the living room without sitting. Yiljoo brought clean glasses and said, “Sit.” He took a seat on the sofa first, and Euihyun hesitantly sat beside him.

“Need any snacks? I can call room service.”

“I’m fine.”

Yiljoo handed him a glass and poured. They emptied their first drinks quietly. Another awkward silence followed. Maybe he should’ve gone back to his hotel. As regret crept in, Yiljoo broke the silence.

“Something just occurred to me.”

He drawled, looking at Euihyun with probing eyes. Staring blankly, Euihyun quickly dropped his gaze to his glass.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being around me?”

The unexpected question lifted Euihyun’s head, his eyes wide.

“What does that mean…”

Yiljoo chuckled, taking a sip. Twirling his glass, he elaborated.

“Colleagues, I guess. I’ve noticed that getting close to people in the same line of work always leads to friction. No one’s gravely at fault, but feelings sour somehow. A casual remark stings, and we get sensitive over trivial things. Trouble follows the same pattern every time. Relationships tangle, and before they can be untangled, they snap. They say being around me feels like being a sidekick, and they hate it.”

Euihyun understood. He was already in that position. Because of his closeness to Yiljoo, he received undue attention. He’d done a solo interview after years, signed an extravagant exclusive contract. If work didn’t dry up, it was a blessing—multiple projects awaited his choice. This fortune was entirely due to Yiljoo’s halo.

Euihyun smiled wryly. Yiljoo, watching, asked with concern.

“Is that how you feel too, Euihyun?”

“No.”

He shook his head. Yiljoo’s presence had never once wounded him. With someone so kind, Euihyun had no intention of flaunting pride or ego.

“I just feel sorry for always being indebted. Thanks to you, I’ve had new experiences and can work under great conditions. I’m just grateful.”

“…Is that just polite lip service?”

Teasing Euihyun’s model answer, Yiljoo glanced at him. It was almost a soliloquy, hard to respond to. Tapping his glass with long fingers, Yiljoo didn’t look away, as if trying to read Euihyun’s thoughts. Euihyun quickly drank to avoid his gaze. Whether from drunkenness, his face burned.

“Well, you’re not exactly the charming type.”

That too was near a monologue. Nodding as if reaching a conclusion, Yiljoo downed his drink. Had someone among the group at the bar said such harsh things? Yiljoo seemed sharper since meeting them.

To ease Yiljoo’s gloom, Euihyun changed the topic.

“Charm…”

In haste, an unfiltered word slipped out. Yiljoo’s attention snapped to him. Should he backtrack? Truthfully, Euihyun didn’t know what he meant to say. But Yiljoo, eyes fixed, waited patiently for him to continue. Whether his reason was clouded, his lips moved on their own.

“…Do you like people with a lot of it?”

Yiljoo didn’t respond immediately. He stared at Euihyun, then slowly looked away, mulling the question. Euihyun’s face flared, and he bowed his head. Why did he keep spouting nonsense? Despairingly, words couldn’t be taken back.

“No, I don’t like it at all.”

Yiljoo answered in a leisurely tone. Euihyun looked up, and Yiljoo grinned. His heart raced. It was nothing major, and it didn’t mean Yiljoo liked him, but his fingertips tingled.

“Didn’t know.”

After a pause, Yiljoo spoke.

“What?”

“That you were this interested in me.”

“No, that’s not…”

Caught off guard, Euihyun floundered, his face flushed with embarrassment.

“Anything else you want to ask?”

Yiljoo teased playfully. His tender tone made it worse. The sturdy wall Euihyun had built seemed to crumble, threatening to spill everything he’d suppressed. He swallowed hard, clasping his hands tightly.

An unidentifiable dread surged within, growing larger. A sense that something bad was coming. He didn’t try to pinpoint it, ignoring and avoiding it. He steeled himself anxiously.

The drinking lasted until dawn. Past a point, they barely talked, just drank relentlessly. It felt necessary to get completely drunk. Any leeway, and the doubts in his mind might solidify into certainty.

Yiljoo watched Euihyun’s heavy drinking with curiosity but didn’t stop him. Empty bottles piled up. Consciousness faded.

“…….”

The pouring light irritated his eyes. He slowly lifted his eyelids. A stark white ceiling filled his view. Moving his hand, he felt soft, fluffy fabric. Lifting his head, he surveyed the room. The layout, furniture, and decor were all unfamiliar. It wasn’t the hotel he’d been staying at.

He sat up abruptly, scanning the room with frantic eyes. No matter how many times he looked, it was the same. He scrambled out of the unfamiliar bed.

He’d drunk heavily last night. He couldn’t recall the last time he was that drunk. His consciousness had blurred, and he’d nodded off at the end. After that, nothing. Had he passed out and been brought here?

Sighing deeply, he ruffled his disheveled hair. The thought of blacking out made his face burn.

Forcing his steps, he left the bedroom. His eyes searched for the room’s owner. Soon, a familiar voice reached him.

“…Get ready, and meet me in the lobby in two hours.”

Yiljoo, phone to his ear, gazed out the window. He was likely speaking to Manager Han. He had a schedule today, yet Euihyun had kept him drinking late and taken his bed. What a nuisance to a busy person. His head bowed in shame.

“Oh, you’re up?”

Finishing the call, Yiljoo turned abruptly. He looked like he’d just woken up too. Even his relaxed state was flawless. In contrast, Euihyun’s crumpled clothes, surely wild hair, and likely puffy face were all embarrassing. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yesterday…”

“It seems like Euihyun’s drinking habit is falling asleep.”

At the teasing words, his face felt like it might burst. Both ears turned red, as if they were burning.

“Did I, perhaps, make a mistake?”

“A mistake? Well, you were talking in your sleep a bit.”

Cha Yiljoo was still smirking. Did I snore? Did I grind my teeth? Perhaps I hit an innocent person or babbled incomprehensible words. It was confusing. And understandably so, because Euihyun didn’t know what his drinking habits were. He had never drunk enough to get intoxicated. To lose consciousness in someone else’s room—either way, it was an enormous breach of etiquette.

As Cha Yiljoo passed by Euihyun, who was standing there looking only at the floor, he unbuttoned his shirt. Without hesitation, he even unbuckled his belt and made a suggestion.

“Doesn’t your stomach hurt? Let’s go wash up and grab some food.”

Instinctively glancing at Cha Yiljoo, Euihyun quickly turned his head away. Cha Yiljoo had already completely removed his shirt. The discarded shirt was casually draped over the sofa.

“You have a schedule, so I’ll just head out…”

“We’re all working to make a living, but there’s enough time to have breakfast.”

He continued, casually suggesting.

“I’ll use the bathroom here, so Euihyun, you can use the one in the bedroom.”

Before Euihyun could even respond, Cha Yiljoo strode into the bathroom. No, wait—Euihyun’s hurried glance caught a fleeting glimpse of Cha Yiljoo’s bare back before it disappeared. He lowered his head again. Even so, the afterimage of that smooth back lingered.

Soon, the sound of running water began to echo from behind the closed door. Euihyun’s ears turned even redder.

As his consciousness sharpened, memories of the previous night flashed by like a montage. Every trivial word and action of his own felt like a thorn stuck in his throat, grating and uncomfortable. Why did I say those things? Why did I ask such stupid questions? No matter how much he tried to understand, all that piled up were self-reproach and questions.

Why.

For what reason.

Into his wandering gaze came the sight of Cha Yiljoo’s shirt draped over the sofa. Unconsciously, he walked closer to it. If he was going to wash up and eat now, there wasn’t much time left. He couldn’t cause Cha Yiljoo any more trouble.

But, why.

Euihyun couldn’t find any justification for his actions. He couldn’t even guess at a reason. Even as he denied it, his body faithfully stopped in front of the sofa. He grabbed Cha Yiljoo’s shirt. A tingling thrill spread through him. His hands, lifting the shirt, were trembling visibly. His heart pounded as if he were doing something wicked, and his breath rattled. He didn’t want to confirm it. It was a cruel act. There was no need to be this harsh on himself. His reason kept issuing warnings. Yet, he couldn’t control himself at all. For a moment, it was as if he were possessed.

He tightly gripped Cha Yiljoo’s shirt with both hands. He didn’t know how much longer he wrestled with himself. A red alert blared incessantly in his mind. He had to stop. Ignoring the final warning, he buried his face in Cha Yiljoo’s shirt.

Cha Yiljoo’s scent hit him all at once. His heart, which had felt like it might burst, became infinitely warm before turning heavy. His heart pulsed even more fiercely. That throbbing spread instantly to his fingertips and toes. His limbs tingled. The confirmation was complete.

It wasn’t a misunderstanding.

“…….”

His grip on the shirt tightened. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to cry.

Those who fail vow never to make the same mistake again.

But only after repeating the same actions do they realize it was a mistake.