It wasn’t even a normal greeting like “hello.” Just that single word suited Lee Kangjoo perfectly.
“Hello. This is Cha Haejun. We met on the bridge yesterday.”
—Ah.
He’d run the conversation through his head beforehand, but the moment he heard that voice, his tongue froze. Haejun rubbed his sweaty palms hard against his thighs.
“Thank you for yesterday. For saving me, and for paying the hospital bill.”
—It wasn’t anything.
“But yesterday I was kind of out of my mind... I’m not usually someone who goes that far. Um, CEO. You know, what I said.”
—What did you say. That you’d sell your body?
Haejun raked his messy hair with his hand. He even pulled the phone away for a moment and smacked his shameless mouth a few times.
“Yes, but that—that came out when I wasn’t in my right mind. So... could you please pretend you didn’t hear anything I said yesterday?”
—Hmm.
“I’ll repay the money you gave me and the hospital bill, absolutely first priority. I swear. If you want, I’ll even get it notarized.”
The other end of the line went silent. He checked the screen, wondering if it’d been muted. No problem there. Maybe his ears were busted like his dick, so he tapped them with his fingers and went, “Ah, ah.” Everything worked.
“Um.”
Haejun called out cautiously. There wasn’t even breathing on the line. Had he hung up, deciding it wasn’t worth listening to?
—You were clinging to me saying you’d work hard just a moment ago.
After waiting helplessly, the voice suddenly came through without warning. Startled, Haejun pressed his body flat against the wall.
—You’ve got a real talent for pissing people off.
“That’s not it, CEO. You said before it wasn’t your thing anyway... and I was completely cornered then, so I just blurted out whatever.”
Even though there was no way the other side could see him, Haejun dropped to his knees. He hoped his sincerity would somehow get through. He wanted Lee Kangjoo to change his mind even now, curse him out, say he didn’t need trash like him and that the money was charity, then hang up and tell him never to show his face again.
—Then you shouldn’t have taken the advance.
“I’m sorry.”
Haejun’s voice shrank. There was nothing else he could say. Thinking about it again, he really had been shameless. Lee Kangjoo had saved his life and given him money, and now he was insisting it never happened and he’d pay it back later.
—Once you say something out loud, isn’t that the end of it. Don’t make me say it twice. Come to the office.
“Yes?”
—You know where it is.
“CEO, what you mean is—”
—I’ve got something to give you.
After telling him what time to come by, Lee Kangjoo hung up. Haejun stared at the darkened screen. His reflection on it looked stupid beyond belief.
* * *
He went to work, but Lee Kangjoo’s voice kept looping in his head. Even when he got lucky and made it into a room, he’d space out and miss his introduction, get cursed at for ignoring the client, and be kicked back out. That happened twice. The rest of the time, he wasn’t chosen at all.
The boss, wandering the hallway, smacked him on the back of the head and snapped,
‘Did you leave your brain somewhere?’
But Haejun’s mind, already off in la-la land, didn’t come back. A coworker slung an arm around his shoulders, asking what was wrong like they were close, but Haejun couldn’t answer.
He was anxious. Anxious enough to need tranquilizers. His eyes kept flicking to the clock on the wall, and every time an ad text or notification popped up on his phone, he snatched it up in a panic. Just in case Lee Kangjoo changed his mind and canceled.
It was a pointless hope. Before long, the appointment time came. Since he couldn’t get into a room anyway, he slipped out while the boss was distracted and left early.
Afraid of what kind of thunderbolt might strike if he was even a minute late, he hurried his steps. He crossed the same bridge he’d almost jumped from the night before and arrived at the company. Streetlights, traffic signals, buildings, and signs all gave off light, but it wasn’t as bright as the entertainment district where he lived. It was a typical office area—people worked during the day and slept at dawn.
Inside, he followed the guard’s directions and got into the elevator. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re not dying.”
He was the kind of coward who shrank at the slightest bang. Haejun crouched in the corner of the elevator, muttering to himself as he watched the floor numbers tick by. Then, with a clear ding, the doors opened. Unlike the private elevator, a long corridor stretched out before him. Bright lights illuminated the hallway, completely different from the dark exterior of the building.
Haejun shuffled along it. In front of the massive door at the end, he took several deep breaths and raised his hand. There was no way Lee Kangjoo could hear his breathing, but he calmed himself anyway and knocked. If there was no answer, he could use that as an excuse to leave—but as if his shallow scheme had been seen through, the space fell silent and his phone rang loudly. It was Lee Kangjoo.
—Come in.
He hadn’t even had time to say hello. Haejun carefully opened the door. Beyond the dim reception area, Lee Kangjoo was sitting in a brightly lit office. His eyes were fixed on the monitor, and he didn’t look back.
“I’ve got some work left. Sit there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Haejun immediately planted his ass on the sofa. With nowhere to put his eyes, he looked around, then spotted a softly lit fish tank and felt a strange sense of familiarity. He’d only seen the fish once, but it had shown up so often in his dreams that it felt like one he raised himself.
Time crawled by. He thought about playing a game on his phone, but it felt rude, so he rested his fists on his knees and just sat there.
The steady tapping of keys, the warm indoor temperature, the sofa soft as a bed. His body grew sluggish, his eyelids heavy, and before he knew it, he nodded off. Then the sound of a chair scraping jolted him awake. Lee Kangjoo, apparently finished with his work, came out into the reception area with his suit jacket draped over his arm.
Come to think of it, Haejun had never really looked closely at Lee Kangjoo’s face. The first time, he’d been too busy running away. The second, his face had been buried in a crotch. The third, he’d been bowing and begging. The fourth, it’d been dark on the bridge. This was practically the first time he was seeing him clearly, under bright light.
He’d worked until deep into the night, so fatigue should’ve been written all over him, but Lee ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Kangjoo looked clean and sharp, without a hint of weariness. Even seeing him again, he was drop-dead handsome.
Eyes stretched long and clean, thick lashes, a smile that could look easygoing if he lifted his lips—but there was no opening in it. The line running from his heavy brows through the bridge of his nose was bold, and his jawline sharp enough to draw an instinctive admiration.
There was an old saying: look at a man’s nose and nostrils. Maybe because his dick was impressive, but Lee Kangjoo’s nose was straight and high, too. Even his full lower lip looked indecently inviting, enough to make even a stranger want to suck on it once.
Working as a host, Haejun had met plenty of guys who bragged about their looks, but objectively, he’d never once seen anyone better than Lee Kangjoo. If their connection hadn’t been this twisted, he might’ve seriously suggested he try working this side of the industry. With that face, just smiling sweetly would have clients with three keys lining up.
“I’m sorry.”
He’d been staring rudely. Haejun quickly bowed his head in apology. Only then did he remember why he’d come.
“CEO, I’m sorry, but could you reconsider just once more? I do sell my body, that’s true, but—but...”
Why was it that his tongue worked perfectly fine in front of customers, yet broke every single time in front of Lee Kangjoo? Haejun clenched and unclenched his fists, racking his brain for what to say next.
“......”
He was screwed. Nothing came to mind.
“You should finish what you start saying.”
Cold sweat seeped into his palms. His mouth went bone-dry, his toes turned icy. His stomach churned. The image of a blood-soaked floor and a half-naked man collapsed there without even twitching flickered before his eyes. If he rejected him, would he end up fused to the floor under Lee Kangjoo’s fist too?
“...I’ll pay the money back no matter what, so if you could just pretend this never happened...”
Even so, he had to say it. Terrified enough to make his balls shrivel, he pressed his thighs tightly together and clasped his hands.
“Haa...” Lee Kangjoo let out a low sigh. That mere breath weighed down on the back of Haejun’s head like a physical force. His forehead nearly touched his knees. Even when Lee Kangjoo called his name, Haejun couldn’t lift his head.
“You said you’d be good at it. You got my hopes up, then you change your tune—of course that disappoints people.”
“That’s not—”
Lee Kangjoo tapped his own chin lightly with his index finger. Despite saying he was disappointed, his expression didn’t change. If anything, a lazy smile curved his lips. Like a kid debating whether to rip off a dragonfly’s wings.
“I admired that nerve of yours and gave you permission, and now you stab me in the back.”
“CEO, please.”
“What I hate most in this world is getting stabbed in the back.”
