“Honestly, what an idiot.”
Haejeong said it with a teasing lilt and a short laugh.
“Go. Stop hovering.”
He waved his hand as if to say he was really going to sleep now. He seemed genuinely exhausted. Munyeong bowed and took his leave. The image of Haejeong sleeping like that without a blanket nagged at him. Munyeong was the kind of person who, even when passing a stranger sleeping rough on the street, would feel compelled to buy them a warm drink from a convenience store. He hadn’t grown up being shown affection, and yet he was full of it. It wasn’t because Haejeong had been his first love that he was concerned. Those feelings were nothing more than old memories now.
Back in the elevator, Munyeong moved to press the button for the first floor — then stopped and hesitated. In the end, unable to shake what kept nagging at him, he didn’t go to the first floor. Instead, he went to the rest room and gathered a few blankets. With both arms full of bedding, he made his way back to the Senior Managing Director’s office. It hadn’t taken that long, and yet Haejeong was already asleep. Lying there with his arms crossed, nothing covering him.
He must be so tired, Munyeong thought. Throughout the entire reception, people had come up to him one after another. But to Munyeong’s eyes, none of it had truly been to welcome him. The smiles had purpose behind them — to check him, or to curry favor. He just… seemed tired. Munyeong had been absently watching Haejeong sleep when he snapped back to himself and, with great care, laid the blanket over him.
“…Sleep well.”
He breathed it out in a whisper, small as settling air, soft enough that it couldn’t be heard. Then, making sure his footsteps made no sound, he turned and retraced his path out. He too felt the exhaustion of a day finally over.
When Haejeong sensed the presence disappear, he slowly opened his eyes. He looked down at the blanket now draped over him. He stared at it with an unreadable expression, then suddenly his face twisted.
“Nosy.”
He had dragged Munyeong around against his will all day, and on top of that the man had followed along and taken humiliation he hadn’t needed to take — and yet he still went and got him a blanket. The sheer guilelessness of it was ridiculous. What is wrong with him.
Haejeong had recognized him the moment he saw him. Even with the overgrown hair covering half his face, even though he was a little taller than back then. He had known instinctively. The quiet, measured way he spoke. And the clean, cool scent that brushed past his nose. A scent that had haunted him for over ten years.
Throughout his time in America, it had drifted back to him on occasion, jolting him awake out of nowhere. There had been times, even while sleeping with someone else, when it would fleetingly pass under his nose and his desire would drain away entirely. And in hollow, idle moments, just before sleep sometimes — rarely, but sometimes — it would surface. Always unsettling him in that strange way.
H-hey…!
Haejeong found himself recalling his long-forgotten first encounter with Im Munyeong. He’d been the one the whole school called a beggar. Haejeong had had no interest in him. At that time, Haejeong had been so full of rebellion that there was nothing inside him but his own anger and anguish spiraling endlessly — no room for interest in anyone else.
That day had been no different.
H-hey…
Someone had called out to stop him, in a voice so faint it was almost crawling.
What.
That morning, he had already gotten into a shouting match with Rep. Chu. Because of a scene he’d caused that ended in a forced transfer, she had been throwing fits practically every day. He answered with visible irritation, and the other person paused, then spoke quietly.
You dropped this.
He was handing over a wallet when Haejeong caught a whiff of something. That heavy, wet smell you get on a drenching monsoon day.
Oh, damn.
He covered his nose with his hand and screwed up his face.
The hell is that smell.
The other person apologized with an embarrassed look. Irritation flared. It annoyed him that some nobody was talking to him, and it annoyed him that something so trivial had made him stop. Haejeong tossed the wallet into a trash can like he was venting, then went on his way. But then.
Hey…!
The same voice stopped him again. He must have run to close the distance that had opened up — he was panting when he reached him.
Now what.
He held back the urge to raise his voice.
This…
Im Munyeong was out of breath, holding out the wallet he had pulled back out of the trash can. In that instant a surge of irritation rose in Haejeong, and harsh words climbed all the way to the tip of his tongue. But then.
My hands are really clean, you know.
And with that completely out-of-nowhere remark, Munyeong cut him off before he could speak.
So this isn’t dirty… I only picked it up… really.
It had been nothing but a place to vent, something he couldn’t care less about throwing away. And yet Im Munyeong was standing there like he’d done something wrong, at a complete loss.
So?
I don’t think any smell got on it…
Munyeong went on with a slightly sheepish smile. Then he went a step further — physically pressing the wallet into Haejeong’s hand, driving the point home one last time.
It’s not right to just… throw things away carelessly… that’s what our director always said.
……
It didn’t do anything wrong.
Munyeong said it with a foolish little smile, but his voice was calm. And there was something about him — a certain detached, faraway quality, as though his gaze rested somewhere else entirely. Foolish yet strangely grown. A peculiar combination. Above all, in the moment he leaned in close to press the wallet into Haejeong’s hand, something different from the musty smell brushed past his nose.
If I made you uncomfortable… sorry.
And then the boy fled the scene like he was escaping. Haejeong looked down at the wallet that had been forced into his hand with a dumbfounded expression. Having done everything he set out to do and then bolting like his life depended on it — it was honestly absurd.
A headache who appeared out of nowhere. That was Haejeong’s first impression of Im Munyeong.
That first impression and today overlapped perfectly. From the way he’d straightforwardly given his name as Im Sunyeong, to the way he’d given in and gone along with every unreasonable demand Haejeong threw at him. On top of that, as nervous as he had been at the inauguration ceremony, he had stayed to the very end. And no matter what people said around him, he hadn’t let a single hint of displeasure show — he just bore it quietly.
“…Is he actually an idiot.”
Haejeong muttered it like he was annoyed and kicked the blanket off with his foot.
As if all that weren’t enough, the man had even covered for the stylist who had belittled him, taking the blame on himself. Does he think he’s Mother Teresa or something. Seriously, the guy has nothing going for him and yet the audacity he has. Haejeong glowered at the blanket with irritated eyes. Then the memory of Munyeong saying he was a middle school graduate surfaced, and he sat up abruptly. Their first meeting had been in high school. Which meant he hadn’t managed to graduate.
Why?
But he couldn’t understand why he even wanted to know. What would knowing do. Haejeong turned it over in his mind once more, then dropped back onto the sofa.
He forced his eyes shut again — and they opened right back up. He let the restlessness settle, then sat up once more and retrieved the blanket he had kicked away.
Cold in here.
It was a state-of-the-art office with automatic temperature regulation. There was no reason for it to be cold — but Haejeong chose to think so anyway, and pulled the blanket around himself. It was oddly cozy, and he burrowed deeper into it.
Munyeong dragged his tired body home and, in a place that should have held nothing but silence, sensed another presence. But without looking surprised, he calmly took off his shoes and stepped inside. Lying on the living room floor, scrolling on his phone, was Shin Juho. He was a friend the same age as Munyeong, someone he’d known since their days at the orphanage. The one and only friend in Munyeong’s narrow circle.
“Oh, you’re back? Why so late today? I thought this month wasn’t a night shift.”
Shin Juho asked without taking his eyes off his phone.
Munyeong answered naturally, taking off his jacket as though having him over was just a normal part of life.
“Yeah. Something came up.”
A lot had come up — but Munyeong kept it vague. If he told Shin Juho what had happened today, he’d probably pour out an enormous amount of interest in it. Because the person in question was a loaded chaebol heir.
“What kind of something… wait, what the—”
Only then did Shin Juho actually look up at Munyeong, eyes going wide. Munyeong was about to say “What?” before it hit him — how he must look right now. An expensive suit, styled hair, groomed face. Shin Juho’s surprise made sense.
“Are you kidding me. This is insanely expensive.”
Shin Juho clocked the tie around his neck first.
