He must’ve dozed off without realizing it. Curled up in the narrow gap between the sofa and the table, Haejun jolted awake at the sound of the keypad beeping. It was his first night after moving, and with the room dim all around, his head didn’t register things right away.
The door opened and the sensor light by the entryway flicked on. He shielded his eyes from the sudden flood of light, then slowly lowered his arm. The person who walked in looked familiar.
“CEO...?”
For a second, Haejun wondered if he was dreaming. He shook his head and slapped his cheek a couple times, and the sleepiness cleared. The man who’d opened the door really was Lee Kangjoo.
“Why are you sleeping there?”
Maybe he looked pathetic, curled up on the floor. Self-conscious about his messy hair, Haejun ran his fingers through it and scrambled up onto the sofa.
“I didn’t think you were coming. You didn’t message— I mean, you didn’t say anything.”
“I was busy.”
The clock on the wall pointed to 2 a.m. It didn’t seem like a lie—Lee Kangjoo was still dressed in a suit.
Lee Kangjoo took off his jacket and set it on the table, then perched on one of the round chairs. It was high enough that when Haejun sat on it his heels never touched the floor, but Lee Kangjoo’s feet rested flat and easy.
“I’m a little hungry.”
Lee Kangjoo smiled lightly. Still half-asleep, Haejun smiled back blankly, then belatedly remembered the text he’d sent. Right—he hurried to the fridge and took the food out.
“It might not taste great since it’s cold. If you’re okay with it, we can go together next time. I’ll treat you.”
On the way home, Yohan had given him bottled water, beer, and snacks, so the fridge wasn’t completely empty. While reheating the food, Haejun grabbed a beer to fill things out and handed it to Lee Kangjoo.
It was late to be drinking, but making Lee Kangjoo drink alone felt rude when he was the one being given a place to live. After a moment’s hesitation, Haejun took out one for himself too and sat across from him.
“You like the place?”
“So much. I’ve never lived somewhere like this before. If you look out that way, you can even see the river.”
“That’s good. I was worried it might feel cramped.”
“This place? Come on, ten people could live here.”
Compared to where he’d lived before, this was a palace. In a good mood, Haejun smiled with his eyes, all soft and easy.
Lee Kangjoo rested his chin in his hand and watched him. Like he was observing something. As if trying to read meaning into that careless smile. When he realized there wasn’t any—just a habit—he looked away.
The microwave dinged. Haejun jumped up, muttering “It’s done,” and brought the food over. He set the warmed plates and utensils in front of Lee Kangjoo.
Lee Kangjoo picked up his chopsticks first; Haejun followed suit. The sweet-and-sour pork had been amazing at the restaurant, but reheated it tasted awful. The batter was soggy, the texture like paper that hadn’t had the fibers stripped out, and it was greasy on top of that.
He couldn’t spit it out, so he chewed and swallowed roughly, then glanced up at Lee Kangjoo. Lee Kangjoo seemed to feel the same—he set his chopsticks down and washed his mouth with beer.
“We should’ve just ordered delivery.”
“It’s fine. This is enough.”
“I feel bad, really. If I’d known it’d taste this bad, I wouldn’t have brought it.”
When he was with Yohan, he’d eat leftovers from the day before without a second thought. In front of Lee Kangjoo, though, he felt weirdly intimidated. Trying to make up for it, Haejun opened a delivery app on his phone—only for Lee Kangjoo to gently press his hand down over it.
“I said it’s fine.”
Haejun lowered his hand, crestfallen. Lee Kangjoo said it was okay and took another bite. It felt deliberate somehow, which only made Haejun more uncomfortable. He quickly pulled out the snacks Yohan had given him and pushed the sweet-and-sour pork aside.
“This might be better.”
“You’re good at treating guests.”
He couldn’t tell if that was mockery or praise. Haejun smiled vaguely and took a sip of beer.
“What about the bar?”
“I quit. But I’m planning «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» to work during the day. Ah—not that work. Delivery.”
“Delivery?”
“I’m learning from a friend. His name’s Yohan—he does deliveries. We went around the neighborhood today, said hi to the shop owners and stuff.”
“You have a license?”
“Not yet, so I signed up for a driving academy right away. They said a scooter license isn’t hard, so I should get it pretty fast.”
He’d even bought a workbook for the written test. Starting tomorrow, he planned to go to the academy in the morning, do practice runs with Yohan in the afternoon, and wait at home in the evening—for Lee Kangjoo alone. Busy days ahead.
“You need a lot of money?”
“Yes. I’ve got some debt.”
“Besides the Lucid advance?”
“...Yes.”
“Did you take it on yourself?”
Did he know his mother had died when he was five but nothing else? Or did he know and was asking anyway? Either way, honesty felt like the right answer.
“No. It’s...”
It wasn’t something to brag about, so he usually kept it to himself. A cliché story used to death in movies and dramas—no one was curious about it anymore. Haejun stared into space for a moment, then lowered his gaze.
“It’s my father’s gambling debt.”
“Why is Cha Haejun paying that?”
“My father drugged me with sleeping pills, stole my seal, and stamped the documents in my name. He took my ID and made the paperwork. Legally, it counts as me signing it, so I can’t even sue. They say I’d have to prove I was mentally incapacitated, but I looked into it—no evidence, no witnesses.”
Lee Kangjoo took a drink and tipped his chin slightly, like he was telling him to go on. There was no way he’d be drunk off just a few sips, but maybe because it was night, the words that had piled up inside spilled out easily.
“I tried everything. Reported it to the police, scraped together money to see a lawyer. None of it worked. The law says illegal collection isn’t allowed, but for someone like me the law’s far away and fists are close. They came, threatened me, beat me—no exceptions.”
Haejun let out a small laugh. Back then he’d wanted to die, but now he could laugh about it. People keep living, somehow. Even if the ground under your feet is the Eightfold Hell.
“That’s the easy way, I guess.”
Haejun narrowed his eyes and shot Lee Kangjoo a look. Come to think of it, the man in front of him made a living beating people too. The image of him walking out in a white shirt dotted with blood flashed through his mind. Normally, he wouldn’t have had anything to do with someone like that.
And yet here he was—rolling around in the same bed as a gangster he’d sworn never to touch. Life was funny that way. Completely unpredictable.
“Anyway, that’s why I need to make money. Please let me work during the day.”
He added a touch of aegyo. Lee Kangjoo nodded, then stood up as he set the empty can down. Haejun checked the time on his phone—he hadn’t even stayed an hour.
“Get some rest. You’ll be busy starting tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving?”
He hadn’t expected them to fuck at this hour, but Lee Kangjoo leaving so quietly still caught him off guard. He told him to sober up before going, but Lee Kangjoo declined.
“This place is comfortable.”
Why did disappointment well up so suddenly? Even if Haejun slept on the sofa, he would’ve gladly given Lee Kangjoo the bed.
He didn’t want to let him go. But he couldn’t stop him either.
“......”
After a brief hesitation, Haejun acted on impulse and dropped to his knees in front of Lee Kangjoo. He slowly slid both hands up Lee Kangjoo’s calves, gripping the firm backs of his thighs. Like a well-trained mutt, he obediently pushed his head forward—only to have his hair seized and his head yanked back.
“What is this supposed to be.”
“I’ve been given things. I should earn my keep.”
Whether Lee Kangjoo beat people or killed them, to Haejun he was the one paying him. A benefactor who’d given him a house and paid off part of his debt. The best repayment he could offer was this body.
He curled his lips up and undid the belt. He caught the zipper between his teeth and pulled it down, then used his nose to part the gap in the underwear. He coaxed the heavy, hanging shaft out with his tongue. Having tasted it a few times already, he felt no resistance.
“While I’m at it, I’ll drain the alcohol you drank too.”
There was no faster way to flush alcohol than cum and piss. Haejun smiled mischievously, wet his dry lips with his tongue, and then clamped down on the head. Lee Kangjoo flinched, his grip tightening in Haejun’s hair, but he didn’t push him away.
He kissed the glans eagerly, slid his tongue along the shaft, then guided the thickening length into his mouth, holding it like something precious. No matter how he forced it, halfway was his limit. Past that, no matter how much he tried to open his throat, it wouldn’t go in—unless there was a firm, pushing hand on his head.
The hand in his hair slowly relaxed. Fingers slipped in, combing through his hair like praise for a good boy. But every time Haejun rubbed his tongue over a sensitive ridge, the grip tightened again. His scalp pulled painfully, but he clung on and kept going.
He was fully absorbed when a hand slipped under his arm and lifted his upper body. Before he could react, his body was flipped and his chest hit the table. He’d had a similar experience on the bed last time. Haejun turned back with wet, parted lips. His loose pants slid down along with his underwear.
