Whether it was exhaustion from the long journey or simply the release of tension, the pace at which his eyelids opened and closed had grown sluggish. At the sight of that utterly unguarded expression, Cesare let out a short, involuntary laugh.
He found himself wondering how someone with not a shred of wariness had managed to survive in District 4.
When the world collapsed, the foundations and order that had upheld human society naturally collapsed along with it. The infrastructure across every field — medicine, the arts, technology, science — was left with only its skeleton. In the outer districts especially, not even that skeleton remained.
The Graven Federation was in the midst of rebuilding, but impoverished areas like District 4 were places that simply endured on the bare minimum of supplies. There were no institutions to protect anyone, no power or system to judge crimes.
With no law enforcement agencies and no public authority to maintain order, the Federation was, in every sense, a blind spot. Beyond District 4, much of the country remained in ruins.
The only way to survive in this country was to place yourself under the protection of someone stronger. People clung to the rules of force and packs rather than any order forged by collective agreement.
And so the question lingered. How had this dull-witted fool managed to survive in a district where only the most primal law — the law of the jungle — remained?
“……”
Cesare wrapped his left hand around the entirety of Seohan’s nape and began to breathe in deeply, savoring the faint pheromone.
In the days since the guy had bolted like he was fleeing something, this pheromone had drifted back to him. Not obsessively, not all day like some kind of madman — just occasionally.
As he lingered around Seohan’s ear and nape, he found that at some point he had buried his face against the back of his neck. No matter how deeply he inhaled, the faint pheromone couldn’t satisfy Cesare’s craving.
Whenever he had a free moment, or in the seconds just before sleep, the illusion of a pale, grassy scent would drift through without fail. And whenever it did, the image of that clear, guileless face would follow without fail.
Cesare had labeled that sensation as mild interest and curiosity.
It was entirely Yi Seohan’s fault for having such a faint pheromone. Because it was so faint it couldn’t form a clear picture, he kept finding himself turning it over in his mind.
There had been something like cool breeze mixed in with the faint green scent, and something like the smell of shaded brush — but he couldn’t remember it clearly.
He was certain it had been a fresh, green scent without sweetness — but once he set that part aside, the more he tried to recall it, the more it blurred. Because he couldn’t bring it into focus, it slipped through his grasp, which only made him dwell on it longer.
The guy’s face was the same way. He was pretty enough, but aside from his gentle impression, there was nothing particularly striking about him. Just round and soft, with a bright smile, more or less.
His delicate features were far from flashy, and his innocent face paired with a slightly vacant expression gave him neither a polished nor a sharp impression. He was, as the saying went, utterly diluted — impossible to pin down any one distinct quality.
And yet, perhaps because of that — because there wasn’t a single sharp edge to him — his gaze kept being drawn back.
How to put it. If you were to turn a dewy lily of the valley at dawn into a person, it would look exactly like this.
“Ugh.”
As the roaming hands grew unmistakably more deliberate, Seohan’s body stirred. For someone who seemed remarkably oblivious and dense in his actions, his physical sensitivity was apparently something else.
“Tch. So sensitive.”
Cesare clicked his tongue reproachfully, completely unaware that his lips had traveled down the line of Seohan’s neck and were now hovering near his collarbone. He wanted to quench this thirst, but as the guy squirmed like he was about to pull away, irritation began to rise slowly within him.
“Me?”
Having heard Cesare’s remark, Seohan blinked with his lips slightly parted.
Sensitive — directed at him, of all people, who took pride in being about as easygoing as they came. What on earth did he look like through this man’s eyes? The words this man used to describe him were the complete opposite of anything he’d ever been told in his life.
But Cesare gave a confident tilt of his chin.
“Yeah, you.”
“Ah…… Mm.”
No matter how he looked at it, the sensitive one seemed to be Cesare, not him. Seohan thought so, and yet gave a couple of nods anyway.
It wasn’t that he particularly agreed with what Cesare said — it was just that the man’s mood, as he breathed in steadily, looked better than it had a little while ago.
“Wait a moment.”
“Yes — yes?”
But that didn’t last long. The languid rhythm of Cesare’s breathing broke as his gaze turned sharp all at once, and his voice dropped suddenly.
That sharp gaze snapped immediately toward Colin. It was unmistakably the look of someone issuing a dismissal — the kind reserved for an enemy — so Colin scrambled down the stairs before the sparks could fly his way.
“……”
The look fixed on Colin as he quickly disappeared was far from ordinary.
That cold intensity made Seohan’s shoulders curl inward again. But without mercy, Cesare’s gaze returned to Seohan — more precisely, to the thoroughly stretched-out V-neck knit Seohan was wearing.
“For f——’s sake…… Don’t even think about coming here in something like this next time. Wear a turtleneck. One that comes all the way up to here.”
He tapped Seohan’s V-neck and his chin dismissively, speaking in a mocking tone.
“A turtleneck……?”
Seohan drew out the last syllable with a slight pout.
He had seemed to be in a good mood just moments ago. He really was a man of mercurial temperament. Hadn’t he liked Seohan’s nape? He’d spent ages with his face buried in it, and now suddenly he wanted it covered.
Not to his taste, I guess.
Seohan pressed his palm against the stretched-out neckline of his knit, trying to push it back into shape. Naturally, fabric once stretched didn’t simply spring back.
He had picked what he considered one of his nicer pieces of clothing to wear today, and apparently it still fell hopelessly short of Cesare’s aesthetic eye. Then again, he had thought it himself the moment he stepped into District 2 — that his clothes looked far too shabby.
Seohan mentally ran through the clothes hanging in his wardrobe.
He’d never bought a turtleneck because he hated feeling constricted, but didn’t Eddie have a black turtleneck? Still, he couldn’t keep borrowing clothes forever — if he ended up signing the contract with him, he’d have to go buy one.
While Seohan was lost in these various thoughts, Cesare — who had been staring down at the top of his head — had his face twist in irritation. He was, by nature, impatient and short-tempered. Whenever he gave an instruction, he couldn’t rest until he’d gotten a clear acknowledgment from the other party.
“Stop playing cute and answer me properly. Did you hear me?”
Whether he’d taken it as Seohan ignoring him, Cesare pressed in with an impatient voice. It was such a ridiculous thing to say that it was only natural for Seohan to practically jump.
“What are you talking about?! When did I ever — cute, play cute?!”
“What was that just now, then? You pouted and drew out your words.”
Cesare’s brow furrowed deeply as he bore down on him. It was obviously an absurd accusation, yet delivered with such brazen confidence that Seohan was left completely speechless.
“That wasn’t playing cute! That was just——!”
“Ha! What, so my eyes are broken? Now you’re trying to wriggle your way out of this?”
“No——!”
Unable to hide his flustered state, Seohan’s lips moved. The man was insisting that Seohan had been playing cute to dodge giving an answer.
As the saying goes, there’s no arguing with someone who’s determined to be right — and with those already sharp eyes narrowed even further with force behind them, there was no way Seohan could bring himself to push back. In the end, Seohan gnawed at his lower lip a few times before pressing his mouth shut.
“Did. You. Hear. Me?”
Cesare pointed at Seohan’s thoroughly stretched-out V-neck knit and demanded an answer.
“Yes, I heard you.”
Right. The man in front of him was someone who might become his employer.
And he was someone who had casually handed over 70 Krang just for cab fare. To spend what remained of his life in luxury before the very end, Cesare’s money was an absolute necessity. That single conviction granted Seohan a patience he hadn’t known he possessed.
Insufferable man.
Seohan muttered the words he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud. He struggled to keep his eyes from going sharp at the corners.
“From now on, answer promptly when I ask you something. No dawdling.”
Having finally wrested the answer he wanted from Seohan, Cesare’s voice settled into something considerably softer. Even so, he didn’t forget to add a reminder to respond promptly in the future. Not wanting the man to start in with another unreasonable demand, Seohan quickly nodded and answered.
“Yes……”
“Hey, there it is again.”
And then he was muttering that Seohan kept trying to charm his way through things.
If not answering was playing cute, and giving him the answer he wanted was using charm — there was nothing left to say.
Seohan chose to pretend he hadn’t heard. He had only just come to realize that pushing back would only cost him.
