His eyes were open, but his brain was still fast asleep. Everyone was thoroughly drunk, blinking their swollen eyes like mudskippers. Calling it blinking was generous — with eyes puffy as macarons, it was hard to tell if they were open or shut at all.
Even as he strained to force himself awake, the sound of someone hammering the front door like they were trying to break it down never let up. Despite the endless noise and all his efforts to pry his eyelids open, once the strength left them, they stayed half-closed.
“Goodness. Gamja, I’m scared to death. Go check it out, quick.”
Mangchi spoke in a raspy voice, casually wondering aloud where he’d made enemies this time. Gang hugged him from behind, draping a leg over him again. He’d given up on opening his eyes — he wanted to block everything out and go right back to sleep.
Gamja, who had propped himself up at an angle, made a move to get up — apparently feeling some obligation as the tenant — and lifted his rear off the floor, then without warning, turned on the light.
Ugh—
Gang buried his face in Mangchi’s back to escape the fluorescent light that suddenly blazed to life.
Ah, that senseless bastard. If he’d just turned it off, I could’ve gone right back to sleep.
“Turn it off—!”
He’d been talking to Gamja, but Bulgom, who’d been asleep crammed in the corner, sleepily answered, Yes! like a reflex. Whoever did it, someone would turn it off soon enough — Gang was just about to sink back into the arms of sleep when—
“Squawk!”
“Aaaah!”
“Ugh—”
In quick succession: Mangchi, Bulgom, and Gang all let out screams. Bulgom had gotten up to turn off the light, stepped on a snack bag spread across the floor, slipped, came down hard on Mangchi’s thigh, and toppled right on top of Gang.
Mangchi, having taken the brunt of it, jolted in shock and flopped toward Gang like a fish just pulled out of the water, while Gang couldn’t move an inch with Bulgom sprawled on top of him.
“Ugh— hey, this is attempted murder!”
Startled by the tangled mess they’d made, Gamja, who’d been heading toward the front door, turned back around.
“Are you alright, hyung!”
If assassination had been the goal, it was a roaring success. Bulgom was so heavy that Gang could barely breathe. He barely managed to free his right arm, grabbed Bulgom’s booze-reeking face, and pushed hard.
“Get your face out of my way!”
“Uuughh—.”
And then.
A sound so thunderous it made the earlier door-pounding seem like nothing.
BANG—
With the light still on, everything in the room was plainly visible. Most visible of all was the door handle, which snapped off as easily as a scrap of paper.
Creeeeak— The door swung wide open with an eerie groan, and standing there was neither anyone from the Yuseong faction Gamja had supposedly made enemies of, nor some drunk who’d mixed up the address.
“Lee Gang.”
It was Kang Jaeho.
The cheap fluorescent light illuminating the whole apartment flickered dramatically — going out and coming back on, over and over, as if it had reached the end of its life.
“Uh……”
Why is he here?
Honestly, I’ll admit I’d been wanting to see him. But that didn’t mean I wanted to see him like this, right now! I must have more luck with prayers than I thought. I’ll have to be more careful about what I wish for from now on.
The narrow entryway looked far too small for a man dressed not in hospital clothes, but in a perfectly tailored suit without a single crease. Standing there without a word, his expression unreadable, the man’s sheer presence overwhelmed everyone in the room.
Gang sat there slack-jawed, staring at him like an idiot, when Bulgom — still on top of him — and Mangchi lying beside him, and Gamja standing awkwardly nearby, all screamed as if they’d seen a ghost.
“AAAAAAHHH!”
All three shrieked loud enough to burst an eardrum, then shot up as if they’d been smacked by an invisible hand, snapping into sharp attention. Somehow they seemed even more disciplined than when Gang had put them through drills himself.
The man, who had brought them to their senses with nothing but his presence — no words, no action — crossed the room in just three steps and was suddenly right in front of Gang.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
A low, deep voice. Long legs looming from below. Hair perfectly set without a single strand out of place. It was really Kang Jaeho.
“B— Boss— I mean, Director, sir, you’ve arrived!”
Bulgom bowed at a ninety-degree angle, and the others instantly followed.
“Director, sir, you’ve arrived!”
For a greeting directed at someone with the title of director, it was far too mob-like — Gang couldn’t help a hollow laugh.
He was the only one still sprawled out drunk. Lying there beneath all of them felt like being trapped between massive old trees. It was suffocating, but he didn’t feel like getting up easily. His body was heavy, and more than that, he wasn’t ready to face Jaeho yet.
Well, before I didn’t know any better — but he’s my boss now. And not just barely above me, either — he’s impossibly high up. Is it really okay to keep lying here this rudely?
He was mulling that over when—
“Huh?”
Could I levitate? This sudden feeling of my body floating upward. Could this be what they call—
“An out-of-body experience……?”
——as if. The man had simply scooped up Gang — who’d been lying there limp — and lifted him in a bridal carry.
“Put me down!”
The moment his body fully left the floor, out of habit, Gang wrapped both arms around the man’s neck. The opposite of what he’d just said — but his head was spinning so badly he couldn’t help it. He was about to give in and rest his head against that broad chest when it suddenly hit him.
Ah, shit. Those guys are still here.
“I said put me down.”
He quickly switched course and spoke firmly. His pronunciation was maybe slightly slurred, but he felt he’d managed to say it with some dignity.
“I don’t think our Gang can walk on his own right now…… you okay?”
“I’m fine!”
He unwrapped his arms and pushed against the man’s shoulders, but Jaeho didn’t budge, so Gang even kicked his legs. Only then did he find his feet on the floor again. At that moment, the man caught Gang as he swayed, and guided him to lean his back against the wall.
“Keep your legs steady. There you go.”
Then he walked to the entryway and came back with Gang’s shoes. The sight of it felt exactly like a parent tending to a child, and Gang felt oddly unsettled.
A man who, to look at, seemed like the type who wouldn’t tolerate a single crease in his suit — he casually got down on one knee in front of Gang and tried to slip his shoes on for him, gripping his ankle.
“It’s dirty in here — let’s put your shoes on before we go.”
The room was certainly messy with empty bottles and snack crumbs, but not so bad that shoes were strictly necessary.
More than anything, his gaze kept drifting to the man’s knee pressed against the floor.
He tried to dodge by lifting his leg away from the hand reaching for his ankle — and his body teetered. The moment he instinctively grabbed the man’s shoulder for balance, one shoe was already on. In a flash, the other followed. He’d ended up practically helping Jaeho put the shoes on him, and his face burned. Unlike him, Jaeho’s expression hadn’t shifted at all — the man stood back up and this time reached for Gang’s clothes.
“Looks like you had a good time.”
He re-fastened the buttons Gang had undone in frustration, and tucked the shirt hem that had come loose back into his trousers. He patted down the wrinkled shirt to smooth it out, and even brushed off a crumb stuck to the corner of Gang’s mouth.
Is he seriously treating me like a kindergartner or what.
Gang’s lips jutted out as he swatted away the man’s hands — hands that were, with completely unnecessary tenderness, going well above and beyond.
“I can do it myself……”
Realizing he’d swatted a bit harder than intended, he dropped his gaze and said it in a small, shrinking voice.
“I know. Gang can do it himself.”
Rather than getting upset, the man smiled and smoothed down Gang’s sticking-up hair, finishing the preparations to leave. Gang almost reached up to mess the now-neat strands right back into disarray, but stopped himself.
He’d never received this kind of devoted care even as a child. So he didn’t know how to handle it — how to receive touches like these, drenched in affection. Even after three-some years with this man, that hadn’t changed. Simply accepting the man’s touches and affection without pulling away was, for Gang, as active a display of love as he could manage.
It was different from something as straightforward as saying I love you and answering I love you more, or throwing himself into sex with enthusiasm — this was something more fundamental, something he kept getting lost in. He was still, even now, learning love by following the man’s lead. And so knowing how to push it away — how to push him away — was something he had even less of a grasp on.
“Can’t have you falling. Let’s hold hands.”
The hand that had just moments ago been grazing all over Gang’s body threaded its fingers through his, lacing them together.
Right now, he had no intention of following the man. No — he shouldn’t follow him. Weren’t they in the middle of a cold war right now?
“Where do you expect me to go? I’m not going.”
“We’re going home.”
Home. At that word, Gang’s chest pulled tight. With that single word, the man tempted him — offering him what Gang had been longing for and aching for until just moments ago.
“I don’t want to…… I’m staying here.”
He tried tightening his grip on the captured hand, but it didn’t give at all.
“That’s not happening. Sleep has to happen at home.”
He’d thought the man would let go of his hand the same way he’d set him down — but that had been a mistake. Instead, Jaeho tightened his grip and walked right out the door.
“Hey hey, wait— wait a minute—!”
Gang dug his heels in, but despite all the effort, his feet dragged along uselessly. The sight of it — like a grade schooler throwing a fit about not wanting to go home and still wanting to play — was mortifying.
“Hey, you bastards! Do something—!”
He turned back, desperately looking to his subordinates for help, but they all just stared off into the distance.
Traitors, the lot of them!
“Eek!”
While Gang was looking back, the man suddenly yanked him with a sharp, strong pull. His body, unable to keep its balance on its own, went straight into the man’s arms.
“Stop looking over there. Look at me now.”
Where are you looking? — and with that, the man suddenly brought his face close. Caught off guard by the surprise ambush, Gang fumbled — uh, wh— — and shut his mouth.
Pacified by Gang’s sudden stillness, the man smiled openly and took the lead. There was no elevator, so they took the stairs down, and Gang nearly tripped and fell several times. Each time, he regretted not having just let himself be carried down quietly — but his pride wouldn’t let him ask to be held again.
Thanks to the man slowing his pace to match Gang’s unsteady steps, they made it out of the building without the catastrophe of anyone tumbling down the stairs. The faintly cool night air and the cool hand clasped in his felt nice.
I must really be drunk. My mood keeps going all over the place.
Even as he was being dragged along, Gang gazed out at the darkened sky, thinking time really flies — when the man spoke.
“I waited patiently until it got dark. Aren’t you going to praise me?”
