“You’re older than I expected. I thought you were early twenties at most.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine. I’ll keep using formal speech.”
Do-gyeom nodded and picked up another chocolate.
The sight of him chewing away with chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth looked nothing like a man in his mid-twenties.
Gi-hyeon filed away the fact that Do-gyeom liked chocolate.
To get a sense of his other preferences, he slid the rest of the snacks over toward him as well.
“It’s true that I want to get closer to you, Do-gyeom-ssi — but there’s another reason.”
“I’ll reconsider the modeling, but I can’t give you a definite answer.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Whatever Do-gyeom thought Gi-hyeon was referring to, the temperature in his eyes dropped.
Gi-hyeon hurried on before the atmosphere he’d barely managed to build could shatter.
“Would you be willing to eat meals together with me?”
Gi-hyeon held out a wet wipe and lightly tapped the corner of his own mouth.
“It’s a bit lonely eating alone. If you have the time, let’s eat together.”
Do-gyeom hesitated, then took the wet wipe.
He studied Gi-hyeon as if trying to read his true intentions, then lowered his gaze.
“……Alright.”
It was the first time those lips had produced a yes.
It was a universal truth — you could only get what you wanted by not rushing.
Pleased at the smooth start, Gi-hyeon smiled with satisfaction and unwrapped a piece of chocolate.
The next day, Gi-hyeon headed downstairs with a light step to have lunch.
He had suggested eating together as a way to build rapport and get Do-gyeom to model for him — but the way his mood was lifting, it seemed he had genuinely been lonely eating by himself.
“Stop drinking now.”
At an unfamiliar voice, he turned around.
Through the open door of the sitting room, Gwok Un and a man were visible.
Gwok Un, his glass taken away, pouted like a child.
He dangled the leg he had draped over the man’s thigh.
“It’s just an aperitif.”
“Even so. Did you stay up all night? There are dark circles under your eyes.”
As the man cupped his face, Gwok Un smiled with his eyes curving.
He pressed his lips to the inside of the man’s wrist.
“You weren’t here.”
“Honestly……”
“I’m sleepy. Put me to sleep.”
“You have to eat first. I’ll put you to sleep later.”
Gi-hyeon found the sight of Gwok Un nodding along so compliantly deeply unfamiliar.
It was an iron rule of the mansion — Gwok Un would share his body, but never his closeness.
He was the type who would have them drink his cum, yet find the dishes their fingerprints had touched too revolting to leave out.
And yet this man took his drink away without a second thought and disrupted his sleep without hesitation.
Curiosity stirred in Gi-hyeon, and he studied the man with a searching eye.
He was a peculiar man whose overall impression was somehow blurred — hazy around the edges.
I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.
Gi-hyeon took his time looking the man over — familiar yet foreign.
Without even needing to assess him closely, the man was draped head to toe in luxury brands, just like Gwok Un.
The plain, understated way he spoke and carried himself stood in contrast to the single item on his wrist worth a house.
I must have seen him at some banquet, Gi-hyeon thought, and turned away.
Reaching the first floor, Gi-hyeon surveyed the surroundings.
As usual, the servants were each busy with their own tasks — but an undercurrent of discontent ran through the air.
One servant, polishing a mirror with a sour expression, flung the rag down.
“That painter bastard just sits around eating all day, why does he keep coming and going.”
“Exactly. I’m so fed up I could die. And after we’d finally gotten him over to our side.”
“Who? The Young Master?”
The black-haired one burst out laughing.
At the blatant mockery, the blond-haired one jabbed an elbow into his ribs.
Despite the fairly loud thud, the black-haired one kept laughing, gasping for breath.
“Haven’t laughed like that in a while. You crazy bastard.”
As the jeering continued and the blond-haired one raised a fist, the black-haired one changed the subject.
“Hey, but is that a Gam Eun-hyeong painting over there?”
“Why?”
“Looks like nothing but paint slapped on — and I heard it went for two thousand. Should’ve become an artist myself. I’d have had both the Young Master and the money in spades.”
Vulgarity at the end of every sentence — apparently their mouths would sprout thorns if they went a moment without cursing.
Gi-hyeon clicked his tongue and tuned them out, making his way to the dining room.
When he arrived, he smiled warmly at the sight of the rice bowl set out across from his seat.
As Gi-hyeon sat down, Do-gyeom took the seat across from him.
“Let’s eat well.”
“Yes.”
Gi-hyeon swept his eyes over the varied side dishes spread across the table.
From the refreshments the other day to noticing that his work was at a standstill — it seemed Do-gyeom had been paying attention.
Every kind of nourishing food was laid out in abundance.
From grilled abalone to braised short ribs — dishes that required a great deal of effort — yet Do-gyeom ate his rice in quiet silence, without a hint of wanting recognition.
The food prepared for Gi-hyeon came to him as a comfort — to him, who had been worn down by the mansion.
When was the last time someone set a warm table just for me, and for no one else.
Gi-hyeon took in the food and Do-gyeom with grateful eyes.
For some reason, the tips of his toes felt like they were tingling.
As he slowly looked through the side dishes, Gi-hyeon picked up a piece of octopus.
“Why is there octopus?”
Do-gyeom, who had been shoveling rice in like a squirrel, looked up.
His eyes paused at the sight of the octopus writhing on the end of Gi-hyeon’s chopsticks.
He gave an awkward little smile and shoveled in another mouthful of rice.
“You said last night at dinner that you liked it.”
“Hmm.”
Gi-hyeon raised an eyebrow playfully.
Can’t eat octopus?
“Do you not like octopus?”
“No, it’s just that I’ve never tried it……”
“It’s really delicious — what a shame you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Gi-hyeon grinned mischievously and placed the octopus on Do-gyeom’s spoon.
The octopus thrashed dramatically on the utensil.
Do-gyeom’s pupils wavered with unease as he watched the suction cups cling to the spoon and release over and over.
“Just try it — it’s genuinely good.”
Do-gyeom stared at the flailing octopus with a forlorn expression.
Pushed by Gi-hyeon’s urging, he resigned himself and lifted the spoon.
It hovered, raised with the weight of a thousand stones, trembling with hesitation.
What is it about a piece of octopus that has him making such a determined face.
Gi-hyeon stared, swallowing the laugh threatening to burst out.
At last, he put the octopus in his mouth.
“How is it?”
Gi-hyeon asked eagerly for a verdict — but he had frozen, unable to chew or spit it out.
Whether the octopus was writhing in his mouth or not, that fine face twisted and shifted with every passing second.
In the end, Do-gyeom swallowed the octopus whole, unchewed.
He set down his spoon and clamped a hand over his mouth.
Gi-hyeon studied the face that had gone pale with concern.
“Are you alright?”
When Gi-hyeon held out a glass of water, Do-gyeom drank it down urgently.
Gi-hyeon watched carefully as Do-gyeom rinsed his mouth several times, his expression cold.
“Sorry — your reaction was too entertaining. I was too mean about it.”
“……”
“After we eat, do you want to come up to the studio? Some varieties of handmade chocolate just arrived — come with me.”
“No, I’m alright.”
“You like chocolate. I’ll make it up to you, so come up with me.”
Gi-hyeon placed a piece of braised short rib on top of Do-gyeom’s rice.
Watching him compliantly pick it up and eat it — as if the octopus had knocked the fight out of him — Gi-hyeon smiled.
He suddenly wanted to poke at those puffed-out cheeks making a fuss over the side dishes.
But knowing full well the backlash would be fierce, he refrained.
After finishing the meal, Gi-hyeon stacked the empty dishes and moved them to the sink.
He went straight for the rubber gloves — and Do-gyeom jumped up in a hurry.
“I’ll do it.”
“It’s fine, you probably haven’t settled yet — go rest.”
“I’m alright.”
“Then I’ll wash and Do-gyeom-ssi can rinse.”
“……”
“If you’d rather not, that’s fine too — go have a seat.”
When Gi-hyeon stubbornly picked up the scrubber, Do-gyeom put on gloves at last.
The two stood side by side and began washing the dishes.
When Gi-hyeon passed over a dish he’d carefully lathered, Do-gyeom carefully rinsed away the suds.
In that narrow space, hands brushing and arms grazing were small, unremarkable things — but suddenly Gi-hyeon became acutely aware of the distance between them.
It felt as though every nerve had concentrated in his elbows and fingertips.
Gi-hyeon made a conscious effort not to touch him any more than necessary.
After finishing the dishes, Gi-hyeon laughed quietly watching Do-gyeom gaze with satisfaction at the clean bowls.
He has another quietly endearing side to him, it seems.
Leaning against the sink, Gi-hyeon tilted his head toward Do-gyeom.
“We even finished the dishes, so let’s head up to the studio.”
“Then I’ll see you at dinner, sir.”
Do-gyeom gave a small polite bow and turned away without looking back.
Gi-hyeon watched him go with a helpless laugh.
He strode quickly after him and wrapped one arm around Do-gyeom’s shoulder.
Caught off guard by the familiar touch, Do-gyeom flinched.
“Come on, let’s go.”
Do-gyeom recovered his composure and fixed Gi-hyeon with a sharp glare.
Gi-hyeon smiled brazenly and deflected the razor-edged look.
When holding his ground physically proved useless, Do-gyeom resigned himself and climbed the stairs on his own.
Maybe it was the octopus from earlier — but the cold expression that once would have made him flinch now just looked sulky.
Gi-hyeon climbed the stairs watching Do-gyeom, cold-faced but endearing.
When they reached the second floor, Gwok Un spotted them and stopped them in their tracks.
“Do-gyeom-ah! Come here.”
At the sound of Gwok Un calling his name, Do-gyeom’s eyes lit up.
He looked nothing like the person who had just been annoyed a moment ago — his face seemed to brighten.
But just as quickly, he caught sight of the man sitting beside Gwok Un and lowered his eyes.
Different from the other servants, yet the same shade of reaction.
“You remember how Father commissioned my portrait? This is the one who’ll be handling it.”
Gwok Un shot a sidelong glance at Do-gyeom and shifted his eyes to Gi-hyeon.
As if he had been expecting something, Do-gyeom’s ears flushed red as though in shame.
At Gwok Un’s introduction, the man fixed his gaze on Gi-hyeon.
Their eyes met — and a pair of blue irises pulled out a moment that had been buried beyond the reach of memory.
