Even with all the back-and-forth, Yohan sent Haejun off without a fuss. He loaded the bags onto the back of the bike, then rested his elbows on them and stared at Haejun, chin propped up. He didn’t even blink—just fixed him with a look like something was stuck in his throat and he couldn’t spit it out.
“What are you staring at like that for?”
Yohan’s eyes were glued to the back of his neck. Haejun awkwardly rubbed the spot with his palm. A bite mark. He’d completely forgotten to cover it up before coming out.
“When did you start keeping a rabid dog?”
At Yohan’s jab, Haejun could only give an awkward laugh.
He didn’t remember when Lee Kangjoo had bitten him. He’d only noticed it that morning, after waking up and heading into the bathroom. It wasn’t some fabric mark from sleep—there was a clear dotted imprint of human teeth, surrounded by a bluish bruise.
And it wasn’t just his neck. His nipples were swollen too. As if there was anything worth tormenting on something the size of a grain of rice—pinched, bitten, twisted. Even the shower spray stung, and when his clothes brushed against them it felt like they might actually bleed, so on the way to Yohan’s place he’d stopped to buy bandages and slapped one over each nipple.
“Go deliver food looking like that and see what people say.”
Telling him to wait a second, Yohan ducked back into the house and came out holding a medicated patch. When [N O V E L I G H T] he told Haejun to tilt his neck and he stepped closer, Yohan peeled it open and stuck it right over the bite mark.
“Cha Haejun. I’m the one who dragged you into this line of work—did you really think I’d scold you? Just remember one thing. Bleeding him dry comes first.”
“Here we go again.”
“You’re gonna pay off your debt eventually and that relationship’ll be over anyway. Before that, squeeze out everything you can. Luxury goods, cars, watches, documents—anything you can turn into cash.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“He looks loaded. If you can, tell him to pay off your debt too.”
“That might be pushing it.”
“If he popped the cherry on a guy who’d been living nice and quiet, shouldn’t he pay a fair price for it?”
Yohan snapped. The phrase “living nice and quiet” was questionable at best, but scared someone in the building might hear, Haejun hurriedly clamped a hand over Yohan’s mouth. Only after Yohan’s shaking shoulders settled did he let go.
“You trying to announce it to the whole neighborhood?”
“Everyone’s fucking anyway, what’s there to be ashamed of. Anyway, make sure you keep in touch.”
“I’m not living there forever. Just staying for a bit. Until the crazy bastard next door disappears.”
“He said he’d get rid of him?”
“He said he’d take care of it.......”
“Take care of?”
Yohan didn’t look convinced by that word. Haejun scratched at the patch on his neck and nodded.
“Guess he really is a gangster.”
No denying that. Haejun gave a sheepish smile. Funny—he’d always said you shouldn’t get involved with people who beat others for a living, yet here he was, making money off one of them. It left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Where you eating lunch?”
“Let’s meet at Wongi’s driver diner. Heard today’s menu’s good.”
Yohan showed him a photo of the set meal someone had posted in their group chat. Haejun nodded and swung a leg over the bike.
Narrow alleys, buildings so old they looked ready to collapse, power lines sagging overhead like clotheslines—then suddenly a wide, clean road, tall buildings shooting up without shame, rows of trees standing proud. Less than an hour by bike, and the world changed this much.
Lee Kangjoo wasn’t home. Haejun dropped his bags in his room and stepped back out. Before leaving, he took a look around the still-unfamiliar house. Maybe because Kangjoo wasn’t there, the big place felt even more empty.
Would he see him at dawn?
“.......”
Haejun stood there blankly for a moment, then shook his head. He wasn’t allowed to want that. He repeated Yohan’s warning to himself—don’t get attached—and opened the door.
* * *
Living together, even unintentionally, meant he ended up observing Lee Kangjoo’s every move.
Kangjoo’s life was monotonous. That claim of having no hobbies turned out to be true. He rarely strayed from his set routine. He woke up early at dawn, worked out, came home, drank tea, and read the newspaper.
In an age where you could find out what was happening on the other side of the planet with just a phone, Lee Kangjoo preferred a paper newspaper. Strangely enough, it suited him.
There was a reason he’d taken Haejun in as something to kill time. There wasn’t a single trace of “fun” anywhere in Kangjoo’s life.
Haejun himself was busy paying off debt and didn’t have much room to chase pleasure, but he still grabbed drinks with Yohan now and then, chatted, watched movies, played games. Those little joys were what kept him crawling through life. But with Lee Kangjoo, there wasn’t even a hint of that kind of spark.
‘What I want from you, Mr. Cha Haejun, isn’t anything grand. Just add the tiniest bit of fun to my fucking boring life.’
Of course, he knew he was nowhere near enough to truly entertain Lee Kangjoo. Still, while he was here—being allowed to stay in a place this nice—he wanted to do his best to breathe even a little life into Kangjoo’s days.
He was usually sprawled out sleeping, but that morning Haejun set dozens of alarms and got up early. Lee Kangjoo was out working out, so the house was empty.
He splashed cold water on his face and slapped his cheeks to wake himself up. In the living room, he pulled open the tightly shut curtains. It was early winter; outside was still pitch-dark, not even a hint of dawn. Looking at a scene that felt no different from night, Haejun stretched lazily.
With a determined glint in his eyes, he headed for the kitchen. He’d bought something on the way home the night before. Opening the cupboard, he took out sliced bread. He grabbed eggs from the fridge, found a pan that looked like it had never been used, and set it on the induction stove.
He’d already gotten permission for this. When he’d gaped at the fridge—nothing but beer inside—and asked what Kangjoo even ate to live, Kangjoo had just shrugged and said he usually ate out.
‘What about when you’re hungry at night? There’s not even ramen.’
‘I don’t eat.’
‘Jesus.’
Haejun hadn’t been able to hide his shock. Even when he staggered home drunk at dawn, he and Yohan always joked around and made sure to eat something. But this man—true to his bloodless, tearless exterior—seemed to have no appetite at all.
Maybe he’d overreacted. Kangjoo had tilted his head, looking at Haejun oddly.
‘You don’t even have pots?’
‘The cookware’s in the lower cabinet. Use it if you need to.’
‘Can I cook for myself? I’ll clean up properly.’
‘Do whatever you want.’
He genuinely didn’t seem to care. Haejun usually ate lunch out too, but with prices skyrocketing lately, eating out twice a day was rough. He’d cheered internally at the chance to save money.
‘If you’re not eating dinner outside, please tell me. I’ll make something.’
‘No need.’
Lee Kangjoo had smiled gently and gone back to his newspaper. The message was clear enough—don’t push it—and Haejun shut his mouth.
Coming back to the present, Haejun swallowed and prepped the ingredients. He needed to finish before Kangjoo got back.
Toast grilled on both sides, sunny-side-up eggs with runny yolks, warm water ready for tea. He even found coasters in a drawer and set them under the cups. It looked decent enough.
Haejun looked proudly at the spread he’d made. It wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t bad either. Tilting his head this way and that, he noticed one side of the toast looked a bit too burnt and quickly flipped it over. This one’s definitely mine, he decided quietly.
Not long after, Lee Kangjoo came back—right on schedule, not a second off. Haejun brightened and trotted to the door. Maybe he’d showered at the gym; a fresh scent drifted off him.
“Welcome back.”
Kangjoo looked like he hadn’t expected him to be there. Feeling like his plan was already working, Haejun grinned.
“I woke up early. Lying around felt pointless, so I tried making breakfast.”
“Breakfast?”
“Yes. It’s nothing special. You always leave on an empty stomach, so I thought you could at least have a bite today.”
Haejun stretched both arms toward the kitchen like he was hosting an honored guest, eyes sparkling. Kangjoo let out a small sigh and walked over to the table. Seeing the newspaper, the food, the warm water with a teabag beside it, he gave a dry chuckle.
“I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Oh.”
“So don’t do things like this.”
Haejun’s shoulders drooped. He’d put in all that effort for nothing. Still clinging to a shred of hope, he sat down at the table.
Ignoring him, Lee Kangjoo sat in his usual seat and picked up the newspaper. He glanced at the cup of warm water, then lifted it and moved it to the center of the coaster.
Seeing that, Haejun bit at his fingertip. Maybe he was still sleepy. Maybe he was just clumsy. Looking again, the setup was a mess.
The water cup was teetering at the edge of the coaster. The edges of the fried eggs were burnt dark brown, the whites on top pale and half-cooked, looking like semen. Toast crumbs were scattered over the plate and table like grains of sand.
It had definitely looked fine earlier.
And he’d expected praise for this? Heat rushed up his ears in embarrassment. Haejun picked up his share of the toast. When he took a bite, blackened crumbs fell away. He swallowed the bitter burnt taste with a mouthful of water.
