At Gi-hyeon’s words, Gwok Un laughed quietly. Gi-hyeon stared intently at his face, where delicate shadows fell in a way that was barely perceptible. His fingers moved at the shiver that ran through his entire body.
“Is the painting hanging in the kitchen Gam Eun-hyeong-ssi’s work? It was as striking as Newman.”
“Eun-hyeong would have been happy to hear that. What a shame.”
“Tell him when he wakes up.”
“……Sure.”
Watching Gwok Un’s self-deprecating smile, he trembled with the lingering remnants of that shiver.
Gi-hyeon sat in a chair and stared at the blank canvas. Before he knew it, a deep blue darkness had settled in — but he remained motionless, his eyes fixed only on the canvas. He closed his eyes. With his vision cut off, a vision that had drifted past him appeared. He traced it with his eyes and tongue — an image so deeply imprinted it felt as though it had always been there.
The darkness deepened and shifted in color, but he lost himself in exploring an unknown ecstasy. Having spent a long while savoring every detail of the vision, down to the wisps of hair at its temples, he opened his eyes. When the pencil touched the canvas, the muscles in his arm trembled faintly. Gi-hyeon began to draw not a man who seduced the same sex with a burning thirst, but a sublime god gazing upon a fallen dynasty. Onto the canvas came the melancholy settled on a pair of eyelashes, the firm lips imprisoning a sob.
The form revealed itself in an instant and he picked up his brush. The brush ravaged the canvas without hesitation. Darkness held within the thin film of paint, and light held within the turpentine.
Since Gam Eun-hyeong’s accident, Gwok Un appeared to have lost all will to live. He stopped everything — dragging servants into his bedroom every night to satisfy his hunger, indulging in luxury, accumulating knowledge. The Butler swallowed a sigh as he saw the cakes he had prepared to comfort his grief-stricken master lying crushed. He knocked on Gwok Un’s bedroom door.
“Young Master, I’m coming in.”
The Butler opened the door and flushed at the sight of Gwok Un. Gwok Un was leaning his head against the wall, completely naked, gazing out at the balcony.
“You have a meeting with Director Choi from Morph at three o’clock. He said he’ll be arriving shortly.”
At the Butler’s words, Gwok Un turned around, and the Butler cast his eyes downward. Indifferent eyes moved toward the suit he was holding.
“What is that?”
“It’s the outfit for your meeting. If it’s not to your liking, I’ll prepare something else.”
“Bring me a robe.”
“Pardon?”
“A robe.”
The Butler urgently gestured to the servant outside the bedroom. Gwok Un took the robe the Butler handed him, slipped it on, and tied the sash. Only once Gwok Un was covered did the Butler raise his gaze. He said nothing about Gwok Un’s attire being unsuitable for business. When the loosely tied sash caused the robe to fall open, he dropped to one knee.
“Excuse me.”
As the Butler undid Gwok Un’s sash, the white skin beneath the robe was exposed. The abdomen — sparse body hair, delicately curved — reminded the Butler of a sensation he had once felt. He knew how greedily that dry skin drank in moisture. The night spent writhing in pleasure — he had never once forgotten that night, not even in his dreams. The hand gripping the sash hesitated with restraint. He wanted to take Gwok Un then and there — but he tied the sash firmly.
“Shall we go.”
The guest had arrived in the reception room earlier than expected. As Gwok Un entered, Director Choi rose from his seat. He managed a smile at the sight of Gwok Un’s appearance — as though he had just crawled out of bed. He had nearly let his displeasure show, but twenty-some years of professional life allowed him to keep his expression in check.
“I must have come too early.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m not feeling well at the moment, so let’s skip the preamble.”
Director Choi nodded and handed Gwok Un the documents. He opened his mouth to begin the presentation he had practiced dozens of times.
“This is Morph’s financial situation and recent performance. As you can see from the documents——”
“I’ll be the one asking the questions.”
Finding the man’s eager voice tiresome, Gwok Un flipped through the documents perfunctorily. Director Choi swallowed dryly at Gwok Un’s bored expression. If he could secure investment from Gwok Un — son of the Chairman of Dugong Construction and director of Le Mans Gallery — it would only be a matter of time before the company turned around. Director Choi wiped his sweat-dampened hands on his trousers under the pressure of sealing the contract. As he racked his mind for a topic that might catch Gwok Un’s interest, his eyes briefly lit up.
“By the way, what a pity.”
Gwok Un, who had been idly skimming the documents, looked up at Director Choi’s words. Director Choi couldn’t withstand the gaze of the threatening beauty and dropped his eyes.
“I heard that one of the artists you were sponsoring is in a coma. They say there’s little hope of him waking, and even if he does, the prognosis won’t be good. How unfortunate.”
Gwok Un lightly tossed the documents onto the table. His pale eyes fixed on Director Choi, as if inviting him to go on. Taking this as a positive signal, Director Choi showered him with flattery, practically spitting as he spoke.
“But I heard that artist was too incompetent to deserve your sponsorship — and quite right. The fact that he received your support at all was more than he deserved. In fact, no artist in this country is on your level — unless it were that British one…… Hirst? Someone like that, perhaps!”
“Incompetent?”
Gwok Un stroked his eyebrow and smiled. He stood a teaspoon upright and scraped it along the bottom of the teacup. A skin-crawling noise tore through the air of the reception room.
“Incompetent……”
At Gwok Un’s smile, Director Choi rubbed his hands together and smiled back. Gwok Un dragged the teaspoon hard across the bottom of the teacup. At the continued scraping sound, Director Choi’s pupils finally shifted with unease.
“Director Choi, I heard you burned through a massive amount of funding from overseas buyers on some baseless viral marketing campaign. In the end you couldn’t recoup the investment, the shareholders refused to participate in the funding, and the stock price turning to garbage is something the whole country knows about.”
“Ah, I can explain that——”
“I don’t recall giving you permission to interrupt me.”
Those snake-like eyes gleamed with a pale, unsettling light, and the lips that had been about to make excuses clamped firmly shut.
“You tried, as a last resort, to offload Morph wholesale — but the failed acquisition negotiations led to a restructuring that put four hundred employees out on the street. In less than a year, no less.”
With each word that poured forth like a waterfall, Director Choi’s complexion visibly drained to white before the naked eye. Gwok Un rested his chin on his interlaced hands. The man a full twenty years younger than Director Choi smiled an insolent smile.
“We’ve gotten a little sidetracked. Now then, what were we talking about? Incompetent?”
When Gwok Un dropped the smile and fixed him with a cold stare, Director Choi’s complexion turned leaden. He shoved the table into Director Choi’s gut. The fat packed into his abdomen compressed and Director Choi let out a grunt.
“I won’t see you out.”
Gwok Un dismissed Director Choi with a sneer and rose from his seat.
Gwok Un’s gait, dignified as he moved through the corridor, grew rougher with each step closer to the bedroom. Arriving at the bedroom with footsteps as unruly as a delinquent’s, he went straight for a bottle of liquor. The alcohol drenched his lips and devoured the front of his robe greedily. The bottle was empty before long, and he raked a hand through his hair with an irritated look. He hurled the bottle at the glass wall with all his strength. With an eardrum-splitting crack, the fragile glass shattered spectacularly. Gwok Un looked at his own reflection through the white fractures and twisted his face.
“Young Master, what——!”
Do-gyeom, who had come running at the tremendous crash, couldn’t finish his words at the sight before him. As if his anger hadn’t subsided at all, Gwok Un clenched his fist hard. The nails digging deep into his palm trembled as if they might snap. Seeing his hand gone pale, Do-gyeom rushed over and took it. Gwok Un wrenched Do-gyeom’s hand away violently.
“Get out.”
Gwok Un staggered and sank into the armchair. He leaned back in it as though lying down and pressed hard on his bloodshot eyes. He was trying to calm his ragged breathing — but as if smashing the glass weren’t enough, he kicked the ottoman. The smooth ottoman rolled across the floor with a heavy thud.
“……I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself. I wish you’d drink in moderation.”
At the worried words, Gwok Un opened the eyes he had been keeping shut. His pale eyes gleamed as though a fuse had been lit. He rested his chin in his hand and sneered.
“Are you lecturing me? You’ve grown up quite a bit.”
Do-gyeom met Gwok Un’s gaze steadily. At that, Gwok Un — unusually — was the first to look away. He closed his eyes and opened them. The eyes that had looked like those of a madman settled somewhat.
“I went too far. Sorry.”
“…….”
“Are you upset?”
Gwok Un curved his eyes warmly. His usual sly manner — yet behind it, turbulent and unsettled things churned beneath the surface, and Do-gyeom took a step back.
“……No.”
“Come here.”
Do-gyeom approached hesitantly. At Gwok Un’s gesture, he dropped to his knees. Those pale eyes laid bare everything, down to the most shameful parts.
“That’s not true, is it? You are upset.”
“…….”
“I’ll make you feel better. Open your mouth.”
When Do-gyeom’s lips parted, Gwok Un pushed his tongue inside. His long, slender tongue ravaged the inside of his mouth roughly. When Do-gyeom, unable to endure it any longer, turned his head away, Gwok Un seized him by the throat.
“Ugh……”
Do-gyeom struggled to breathe under the crushing grip around his neck. Even as he received that near-violent kiss, he wrapped his trembling arms around Gwok Un. Gwok Un’s brow furrowed at the sight of Do-gyeom cradling another’s pain even while barely able to breathe. He pulled his lips away and hooked his leg over Do-gyeom’s back.
“Make me feel good too.”
Gwok Un breathed out a sigh like a moan. He traced Do-gyeom’s cheek with his fingers and toyed with his lips. The snake-like fingers that had been gently stroking the surface parted his lips. The slender fingers pressed down on Do-gyeom’s stiffened tongue and began to move in and out. At the blatantly suggestive act mimicking intercourse, Do-gyeom’s face went rigid. Gwok Un smiled lewdly at the innocent reaction. He hooked his fingers on Do-gyeom’s lower teeth and guided him toward his lower half. Do-gyeom’s cheek trembled pitifully.
“Do I need to teach you more?”
Do-gyeom’s face quickly filled with resignation. He lowered himself and prostrated at Gwok Un’s feet. His tongue licked Gwok Un’s ankle like a slave. Do-gyeom poured devoted affection into each joint. Though his body was heating up from the attentive caress, Gwok Un’s mind cooled as if doused with cold water. As Do-gyeom caressed the inside of his thigh, Gwok Un pushed his shoulder away.
