When Heesin arrived at Im Gyeong’s home and was guided up to the second floor, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He’d assumed Im Gyeong’s idea of let’s hang out for a day meant the same as before — grab some drinks, maybe do some shopping.
“What are you doing? Sit down.”
He stared at the crudely illustrated fruit cards and the bell placed in the center between them.
Im Gyeong flipped a card over and began explaining — when the combined count of any fruit reached five, whoever slapped the bell first won.
Reflexes are crucial, he said.
Damn. I don’t know about reflexes, but my patience is being stretched to its absolute limit right now.
“Do you want to change into something more comfortable? You look like you might be stiff in that.”
“I’m fine.”
“Alright, then. Shall we start?”
“Do we really have to do this?”
“You said you’d hang out with me.”
Im Gyeong shuffled the cards as he spoke.
His technique alone was enough to put a casino dealer to shame.
Then he split the deck in half and handed one portion over.
“What should the penalty be?”
Heesin let out a sigh of resignation.
“Whatever you want.”
“The winner gets to kiss the loser wherever they want?”
Heesin stared him down openly, and Im Gyeong laughed out loud.
“A flick on the forehead?”
Yeah. Better than a kiss.
“Do as you like.”
“You should give it your all. I’ve been working out — my hands hit hard.”
Heesin gave a dismissive snort and paid that no attention.
Just play along for a bit, get the original, and leave. I’ve never played this kind of game before, but when it comes to reflexes, I don’t lose to just anyone.
The game began.
He spotted the grape count hit five and reached for the bell —
— but Im Gyeong was faster, by just a beat.
Im Gyeong took the cards, and Heesin waited for his next chance, but it didn’t come easily.
As time went on, his competitive streak started to burn.
I should put a hole right through this bastard’s forehead. Just the thought of it was satisfying. But things weren’t going his way, and by the end of the round, all he could do was sigh repeatedly.
Im Gyeong sitting across from him kept smirking, clearly enjoying himself.
I need to crack that bastard’s forehead open…
The game ended, as expected, with Im Gyeong’s victory.
“Come here.”
He beckoned with his hand like he was calling a dog, so Heesin reluctantly moved to sit in front of him.
“Closer.”
The distance narrowed until their knees were almost touching.
The moment Im Gyeong reached out and brushed the hair back from his forehead, Heesin’s body flinched without thinking.
On instinct he tried to pull his head back — but Im Gyeong cupped his chin gently this time.
“No. Running away is a foul.”
Heesin scowled deeply and dropped his gaze downward.
Im Gyeong curled his fingers into a loose fist, blew a warm breath into it — hoo — and then delivered a proper flick right to the forehead.
He said he crossed over to Japan as a kid and grew up there, but the way he acts, he’s completely Korean through and through.
“Your face looks better with your hair swept back.”
“……”
“You should go around like that. Actually — would that just make things more exhausting for you?”
“Stop talking and just hit me already.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than — crack — a sharp impact struck his forehead.
Ow!
All dignity forgotten, he clapped both hands over his face.
He looked delicate, so I assumed his hands were weak. Apparently not.
His head was ringing like something had gone through it.
Though — this bastard, that time in the bathroom, he slammed me into the sink by pure force.
Why did that suddenly come to mind.
Like Park Taemin said — I really do hold a grudge for ages.
“Ha, damn…”
“See? I told you to give it your all.”
Glaring at that grinning face, Heesin shifted his position.
“Giving up?”
“No. One more round.”
“Unexpected. I thought you’d run.”
The word run got under his skin.
It was his first time playing the game, and he’d been too distracted thinking about the original file to focus properly.
At this point, I need to land at least one hit on this bastard before I can feel okay about leaving.
He thought himself pathetic for being this petty, but going home now felt too unfair.
Another round was set up — and this time too, Im Gyeong won.
The bastard just smiled lightly the whole time, without showing a shred of mercy.
Isn’t a forehead flick called a forehead flick because it makes a flick sound? If it makes a crack sound, that’s not a forehead flick anymore — that’s something else entirely.
It hurt so much he half wondered if he’d been punched.
He lost three rounds in a row — and when he finally won the fourth, he genuinely punched the air with his fist.
He felt embarrassed about it shortly after and returned to his usual composure, but still.
After winning the fifth round as well, the two of them wrapped up the game with matching red foreheads.
“Now give me the original.”
Im Gyeong paid no attention and pressed the remote to lower the blinds.
Then he got up and brought back popcorn and drinks, setting them out on the table.
Surely not…
“How about a movie? Any genres you like?”
Ha — Heesin couldn’t hold back any longer and raised his voice slightly.
“Are you serious right now? Be straight with me. You never planned to hand it over, did you? You gave me the edited version just to jerk me around.”
“Don’t get worked up, sit down. If there’s no movie you want to watch, I’ll just pick one.”
Is this guy even listening to a word I’m saying.
The lights in the house went off, and a film appeared on the screen in front of them.
Heesin ran a rough hand through his hair out of sheer frustration.
He’d gone along with things he’d never normally bother with — and this is how it ends up. Does he even have the original. Should I have just gone to Representative Choi instead.
In the meantime, the movie started.
Heesin grabbed a beer from the table, moved to the far end of the sofa, and sat down.
“Want some?”
He ignored Im Gyeong offering him popcorn and just drank his beer.
The movie was a romance — a terminally ill male lead who meets a female lead and falls in love.
There were a few moving scenes, but after a sleepless night before, the movie couldn’t hold his attention at all.
The only thing on his mind was how to get the original and get home as fast as possible.
As time passed, sleep pressed down on him.
His clothes were stiff and his posture uncomfortable, so he quietly leaned sideways.
Then he glanced over at Im Gyeong, and —
Good lord.
Tears were welling in his eyes.
He was fixed on the screen with an expression like he might break down at any moment.
If it were a close friend, I’d have teased him mercilessly…
“…”
But watching Im Gyeong, his reaction was somehow different.
Maybe it’s the face — he looks like a carefully crafted work of art. Is this just what happens when someone is too good-looking. I’ve always figured I’ve gotten my fair share of advantages from looks too, but this guy — how much has he gotten away with. Genuinely envious for a moment — and then irritation surged up. The thought that there’s nothing I do better than Im Gyeong. No wait. At least I have better character than him, don’t I?
And then he actually cried.
Completely absorbed in the film, he didn’t even think to wipe his face.
…What’s so sad about that.
There are so many greater tragedies in the world than any movie. I just envy the luxury of being able to cry at a film.
A hard life makes a person cynical — and somewhere along the way, it had become harder and harder to feel compassion for anyone.
His eyes, fixed on the screen, slowly fell shut.
How much is left. This is so long.
He stole a few more glances between the screen and Im Gyeong’s profile, then finally lost the battle against sleep and let his head tilt against the armrest of the sofa.
The voices of the characters drifted over him like a lullaby and drew him down into a dream.
When he opened his eyes, it was well past midnight.
A blanket had been draped over him.
He rubbed his face to chase off the sleep, then looked to the side — Im Gyeong was in the same position, watching another movie.
It seemed the film had changed at some point while he was out.
Sensing him stir, Im Gyeong turned and smiled.
“You’re up? If you’re tired, go sleep in the bedroom.”
Heesin pushed the blanket aside, reached forward, and grabbed the bottle of water on the table.
He wet his dry throat, then picked up his coat without hesitation.
“I’m leaving.”
“You weren’t going to sleep over?”
He almost laughed in disbelief.
“Just give me the original.”
“I don’t have it here.”
What? He looked at Im Gyeong with an incredulous expression, and Im Gyeong paused the film.
On screen, the man and woman were frozen mid-lean, a breath away from a kiss.
Then Im Gyeong turned to face him sideways.
“Actually, it’s in Gangnam. You know the first place you came to, right? It’s there.”
“……”
“Want to go get it now?”
Heesin clenched his jaw, then let it go.
“You said it was here earlier. That’s why you asked me to hang out — wasn’t it? I played your stupid game. I sat through that pointless movie with you. Are you playing me? Am I someone you can just do that to? Huh?”
He pressed down as hard as he could on the rage building inside him.
If he hadn’t, every profanity he knew would have been flying out by now.
Im Gyeong listened, then let his brows droop with a pitying expression.
“Do you know that when you get angry, you get rough with your words?”
“What — am I supposed to sit here grinning like an idiot in this situation?”
“I’m sorry. I was only thinking of myself. What do you want to do? Should we go get it now?”
The moment his voice rose slightly, Im Gyeong’s face went unbothered.
He turned sideways, crossed his legs, and stared — the look of him was infuriating.
Heesin checked the time again.
Thinking about the route, it would make more sense to stop by on the way to work in the morning.
He put his coat on, Im Gyeong’s gaze trailing after him the whole time.
“You’re going?”
“I’ll stop by in the morning, so have the original ready.”
Im Gyeong’s brow furrowed.
“You say that like you’ve handed it off to me for safekeeping. Isn’t Kang Heesin the one who needs it more?”
That made Kang Heesin give a short laugh.
“You’ve got things seriously backwards. If you don’t give me the original, I walk away from this entirely. Nothing to regret, nothing left unfinished. Getting chewed out by my superiors? Nothing new. The press leak? There are more than enough cases every single day even without that one. How long do you think people will remember? Three days, I guarantee it, and it’s forgotten. So stop acting like you’ve got something on me.”
His voice as he said it was ice-cold.
Im Gyeong’s expression shifted — into something intrigued.
A look that said: go on, give me more.
Forget it. What’s the point of saying anything more to you. He turned and walked straight to the entryway, put his shoes on, and stepped outside.
He couldn’t remember what Im Gyeong’s expression looked like at the very end.
He got to his car and started the engine — and the breath he’d been barely holding in finally broke free.
Damn it. I should’ve held back — and yet, at least I kept my dignity. Both thoughts passed through him at once.
He pulled out of the driveway and onto the alley, and then — some distance away — a black van caught his eye.
It was an unusual sight in an upscale residential neighborhood like this.
On top of that, this spot was a blind zone.
He deliberately turned the car in that direction and switched his headlights to high beam.
The windows were heavily tinted, but the faint outline of a person was visible inside.
Unease growing, he circled the block and came back around.
The van was still there.
A sense of déjà vu kept him from driving away.
The day Kim Jungu was kidnapped — it was something like this.
He got out of the car and approached the van.
He knocked on the door — once, twice.
No response from inside.
Why did he do it. Without thinking, he found himself looking back at Im Gyeong’s house.
The house that had been brightly lit was now completely dark, as if it had never been otherwise.
