After the meal, Yun Sena’s family gathered in the drawing room inside the house, deep in conversation about business matters. Sitting in the middle of it all, Kang Heesin felt a brief swell of something like pride — as though he already belonged to this household.
But it didn’t last long. Watching Im Gyeong smile at him from across the room, an ominous feeling began to crawl its way up from the pit of his stomach.
Maybe I should have come clean from the start. Damn it. I panicked and played dumb before I could think. Should I just confess now? But the timing was wrong.
He was waiting for the right moment when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
“Shouldn’t you get that?”
Yun Sena asked quietly. The caller was Chief Inspector Oh — and unlike usual, he was persistent. By this point, Heesin had a feeling something had blown up.
“Please excuse me for a moment.”
He left Yun Sena and her family behind in the drawing room and stepped out into the corridor. He called back as he walked, and a moment later, Chief Inspector Oh’s rough voice came through the line.
— Prosecutor! Where are you? Can you talk right now?
“Is it urgent? I’m out for something important.”
— He’s dead.
“…Excuse me?”
— Kim Haeseong. He was found dead at his residence a little while ago.
“……”
— Are you there? Prosecutor? Prosecutor Kang?
Kang Heesin walked to the far end of the corridor and pushed into the bathroom. What he’d just been told was this: Kim Haeseong, the host who had come in as a witness just days ago, had been found dead. An acquaintance had discovered him collapsed in the bathtub at his home with slashed wrists and called it in, and detectives from the precinct in charge had already been dispatched to the scene.
Why would someone that brazenly composed suddenly take his own life? And if it wasn’t suicide? The man was tangled up with no shortage of people — there was no way to even begin guessing who might have done it.
“They’re saying it’s a confirmed suicide?”
— A note was found.
Heesin confirmed which police station the case had been assigned to, then ended the call. He stood there for a moment, unmoored, before finally exhaling. He twisted the tap and cool water poured out. He washed his hands in the cold stream, trying to clear his head.
Then he lifted his gaze — and in the mirror, he met Im Gyeong’s eyes. At some point, Im Gyeong had appeared in the doorway and was standing there, leaning against the frame, watching him intently. He gave a small nod — projecting calm he didn’t feel — then pulled a hand towel from the dispenser, dried off, and tossed it into the waste bin.
“About that day,”
He forced out the words with some effort. He could pretend to let it go — but Im Gyeong was no fool. He had clearly recognized him and made a point of saying so. Letting it slide like this left him with an uneasy feeling he couldn’t shake.
“I was out of line. I was looking for someone and there was a misunderstanding.”
One corner of Im Gyeong’s mouth curved up smoothly.
“You said you didn’t know me just now.”
…This guy’s already dropping the formalities.
“I panicked and played dumb without thinking. I apologize if it was unpleasant.”
Im Gyeong watched him apologize with quiet eyes — eyes that gave nothing away. When no response came, Heesin made to leave with a brief farewell, but the man’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Who died?”
He turned. Im Gyeong was washing his hands, gaze fixed on the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection. That look — warm on the surface, with something cold underneath — who does he remind me of? The thought passed through him briefly.
“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I just caught something about someone dying.”
Come to think of it, this man was there too that night. Had he seen Kim Haeseong? What had brought him to a host bar? Considering they also had female hosts, it wasn’t strange for him to have been there. Or his preference could be men. Not that Heesin had any interest in knowing that far.
What he was curious about, though, was why the man was now closing the distance toward him.
Water dripped steadily from Im Gyeong’s freshly washed hands. It was uncomfortable to look at, so Heesin reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out his handkerchief, and held it out — and Im Gyeong stared at it. Making a person feel awkward must be its own kind of talent. Embarrassed, he was about to pull it back when Im Gyeong snatched it from him.
Instead of drying his hands, he brought the handkerchief to his nose and smelled it. Heesin almost said it was clean — freshly laundered — but stopped himself. Now Im Gyeong used it on his hands. All the while, his gaze rested on Heesin’s necktie. He stepped closer and reached out to touch the end of it.
What? Heesin frowned — and Im Gyeong’s gaze traveled up along the tie to his face.
“俗物.”
Zoku-mono.
The sight of the man’s crooked smirk made his mood sour immediately. He hadn’t caught it precisely since it was in Japanese, but it clearly wasn’t a compliment. He knocked the hand gripping his tie away and sharpened his gaze.
“That’s taking the joke a bit far.”
Im Gyeong, who had been stone-faced up until now, grinned. Joke? Before Heesin could even think to step back in wariness, Im Gyeong grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face down against the sink without a shred of mercy. His face was crushed into the basin and a strangled grunt escaped his lips.
“What — what are you doing!”
He tried to wrench free, and Im Gyeong pressed harder, leaning in close.
“Still think it’s a joke?”
“Let go while I’m being civil about it — let go, you bastard!!!”
Even in the middle of it, the fact that he was keeping his voice down so it wouldn’t carry outside made him feel pathetic. Im Gyeong seemed to clock that too — because now he acted with complete, shameless impunity.
“What was it you said that day? Something about selling your body? Something about stripping you down and shaking out every last thing?”
“I already apologized! I said it was a misunderstanding!”
He paid no attention and ran his hand along Heesin’s waist.
“What a problem. It wasn’t a misunderstanding, though. I’m well known for playing dirty. And as for selling your body — that’s not me.”
Im Gyeong’s lips dropped to just a breath away from Heesin’s ear.
“That’s you.”
Heat flooded his face all at once.
“What?”
“While we’re at it, shall I take our prosecutor’s underwear off too?”
The moment his hand slid downward and closed around his backside, Kang Heesin threw every ounce of strength he had into wrenching himself upright — and swung his elbow at the same time. With a sharp crack, Im Gyeong’s face snapped to one side, and moments later, bright red blood began spattering onto the marble floor.
Kang Heesin swept his disheveled hair back and placed his hands on his hips. His chest heaved with the effort of swallowing his rage. When Im Gyeong lifted his head, blood was streaming from his nose. He pressed Heesin’s handkerchief against it and laughed. His expression was that of someone having the time of his life.
Heesin, breathing hard, considered unleashing a string of curses — and thought better of it.
“You just sexually assaulted me, so let’s call that even.”
“With just this?”
“If you have a grievance, come after me. We can settle it in front of the whole family — how about that.”
He delivered the words without so much as a flinch and walked out, the sound of quiet, muffled laughter trailing behind him.
Insane. You think this situation is funny?
He was straightening his clothes on the way back when he noticed blood on his sleeve — belatedly.
Ha. He stopped walking, irritation creasing his face. There’s a spare shirt in the car — should I go change? He deliberated, then dropped it and walked straight back into the drawing room. The people mid-conversation looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Good grief — what happened to you? Is that blood?”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?”
He waved off Yun Sena’s concern and made up a quick excuse — just a small nosebleed, nothing more. Her mother said he must be running himself ragged and insisted that someone doing the country’s work had to take care of their body. A few people exchanged glances.
Even without a word spoken, they must have sensed that something had happened inside. Time passed, and Im Gyeong did not reappear — but no one went to look for him either. He should have felt relieved by that, yet somehow it only made him more unsettled.
