What on earth had possessed him to come all the way here.
Just a few minutes ago, Beomwook had definitely been buried in the sofa in his own room. Yeonjun’s message — that he’d wait for him — had been nagging at him, but he’d figured Yeonjun would already be asleep by now and had decided to stop by separately tomorrow.
Ha — another long exhale. And yet. Had there ever been a moment in his life when he’d done something this baffling, even to himself? He had to be out of his mind from exhaustion. There was no other explanation for why he was currently standing in front of the door to the suite Yeonjun was staying in.
At a time when he should clearly be in bed. Even if he’d come all this way, he couldn’t knock, couldn’t ring the bell. Right — no matter how he thought about it, he was clearly not in a normal state of mind right now. It would have been far better to just call Yeonjun first. What on earth was he doing here.
Beomwook slowly turned around. Just as he made up his mind to call back the security guard he’d asked to step away for a moment —
Click —
“Oh — hey, security guard! Are you still stand— huh? Executive Director?”
The firmly closed door cracked open slightly, and Yeonjun poked his face through the gap. It was enough to nearly stop his heart — Beomwook stood frozen, unable to breathe. Yeonjun seemed equally startled, saying nothing more, just blinking.
Through the gap in the open door, a faint warmth of humidity drifted out. Beomwook, who had by now quietly composed himself, slowly turned back around.
“…Yeonjun. You’re still awake.”
The humidity made sense — it was coming from Yeonjun. He must have just gotten out of the shower; water was dripping steadily from his hair, a bathrobe loosely thrown around him. The carpet near where he stood was dotted with fallen drops. Yeonjun, face even paler than usual — as though he’d seen a ghost — opened his mouth.
“Oh, no, I just — you startled me. Executive Director. Are you — are you still up?”
“Yes. I haven’t slept.”
“Oh, r-right. Ah, I’m sorry. I was just so surprised… Wait, um. Executive Director — what brings you all the way here? And where did the security guard go?”
Security guard. The casual, almost familiar way he asked after the man’s whereabouts — like checking in on a mutual friend — left Beomwook genuinely at a loss for words. The image of Baek Yeonjun saying he couldn’t trust Secretary Choi and asking nervously if he really had to be alone flickered through his mind, then dissolved like a mirage. Why on earth did he open the door calling for the security guard? He had plenty of questions, but none he could bring himself to ask. He raised his head and answered.
“…The security guard who was stationed here has been moved elsewhere.”
“Oh, I see….”
“……”
A silence fell instantly. The wide hotel corridor seemed to amplify the quiet between them.
“Um… Executive Director, would you like to come in first?”
Yeonjun tightened his grip on the door handle as he asked. It was late, and Beomwook’s sudden appearance had caught him off guard — but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not unpleasant in the least. If anything, it was closer to the feeling of welcoming someone he’d been waiting for all along.
Beomwook gave a small nod and stepped through the door Yeonjun held open. Since I’ve come all this way, I might as well say what needs to be said before heading back. As Yeonjun moved, the loosely worn bathrobe shifted, and a glimpse of firm muscle showed through the gap. Beomwook instinctively looked away.
He’d seen more bare bodies than he could count during his years in the organization. And on top of that, as a beta, Beomwook wasn’t affected by alpha pheromones. It wasn’t as if Yeonjun were naked — just a bit of skin visible through the robe. And yet Beomwook’s own reaction unsettled him far more, and he pressed his brow into a hard line.
He settled naturally onto the living room sofa. Having spent the last while in this same room himself, the tension in his shoulders eased somewhat. Yeonjun, whose hair was now mostly dry, gave it a quick shake with a towel and then took a seat on the sofa, starting to talk.
“I couldn’t sleep, so after dinner I kept looking around the room, and I was just about to wash up and get ready for bed.”
“…I see. You must be exhausted.”
How long had it been since he’d exchanged something this ordinary with someone — just small talk, just checking in. Beomwook couldn’t quite find his footing in the easy, unstructured flow of conversation. His mind went blank trying to figure out what to say next and how to say it.
“Not really. Everything’s been so hectic that it’s like I’m running on adrenaline — I can’t fall asleep at all. I barely ate, too… And I’m someone who normally eats three full meals a day. Seriously.”
Fortunately, Yeonjun carried the conversation more than well enough on his own. At the mention of not eating, Beomwook glanced over at him as if checking.
“Oh, and my classmates kept blowing up my phone — insisting it was me, calling, texting, it was relentless. Ha… I went with the flat denial for now, but I could tell none of them believed me for a second.”
Yeonjun kept rambling, his drooping eyes blinking slowly. “And the semester starts next week…” Unfinished sentences kept spilling out one after another. Beomwook was worried about him too — but Yeonjun’s manner seemed far from grave, and Beomwook kept himself on alert, only half-convinced there was nothing to be concerned about.
He noticed a can of beer sitting in front of Yeonjun. His eyes drifted naturally to it — condensation beaded along the outside of the can. Yeonjun caught the glance and spoke first.
“Would you like a drink too, if you’re alright with it, Executive Director? You must be tired…”
He couldn’t turn down the offer. Right up until a few minutes ago — before this, before coming here — he’d had no desire to drink at all, only to lie down and rest. But Beomwook gave a slow nod and rose to his feet.
“Oh — Executive Director. Where are you going?”
Yeonjun followed behind Beomwook as he passed the sofa and walked toward the bar-style kitchen. Beomwook stopped wordlessly in front of the liquor refrigerator beside the counter and opened it, reaching in to pull out a bottle of Balvenie 30-year.
Yeonjun had already settled onto one of the bar stools and was watching him with bright eyes. Beomwook retrieved two crystal glasses and set one in front of Yeonjun.
“…Can you hold your liquor?”
“I’m not bad. I’ve just never had whisky this premium before.”
Yeonjun smiled, looking mildly uncertain. The fact that he didn’t say he was good at it suggested he had some apprehension about high-proof drinks. Beomwook gestured toward the refrigerator.
“You can have a beer instead, or something else.”
“No, no! When would I ever get the chance to try something this rare and expensive? I’ll just have a little!”
Yeonjun held up the glass and swirled it slowly as he answered. His hair was fully dry now, the brown strands falling softly around his face, swaying with each movement. Yeonjun’s unusually pale skin caught the light and seemed to glow.
Beomwook poured whisky into Yeonjun’s glass, then into his own. He added a couple of ice cubes and finally took a seat across from Yeonjun.
Come to think of it — he’d completely forgotten why he’d come here. He needed to bring up the remaining payment soon. But not knowing how to open the conversation, Beomwook stared silently into his glass.
“Executive Director — shall we clink glasses?”
Watching the furrow between Beomwook’s brows deepen, Yeonjun reached his glass out first. What’s he thinking about now. Beomwook, who had looked mildly caught off guard, clinked his glass against Yeonjun’s almost automatically. Yeonjun quickly brought the cold crystal rim to his lips.
“Drink slowly. It’s a strong one.”
Yeonjun had been stressing over the flood of messages from classmates and the unpleasant articles right up until just a moment ago, stressed enough to have a mild headache. Even knowing Beomwook must be swamped with damage control and not checking his phone, Yeonjun had still felt irritated, stifled — and had downed a beer just to settle himself down.
“Yes. Don’t worry, Executive Director.”
But why. Why was it that the quiet man sipping his whisky across from him — Do Beomwook — was the one occupying his thoughts?
The fatigue pressing in around his body and the dull throb at his temples had already eased, though he hadn’t noticed. Yeonjun tilted his head slightly, puzzled.
Beomwook stared at the man in front of him, expression tight with something like exasperation.
“Wow, Executive Directooor… this stuff is seriously stronng……”
Baek Yeonjun was drunk. He should have stopped him when he was downing that expensive whisky like it was nothing, insisting he’d be fine. He’d seemed to be handling it well enough, so Beomwook had left him to it — and now it had come to this. Beomwook had stepped away to use the bathroom for a moment, and by the time he returned, Yeonjun’s face had gone completely red and he’d started laughing.
“Yeonjun. You’re very drunk. Can you stand?”
“Yes! Of course I can! …But I want more! I really do! I’m fine!”
The problem was that Yeonjun kept looking at him and laughing. Beomwook did his best to ignore it as he moved Yeonjun’s glass aside and refilled it with cold water. Yeonjun was apparently too drunk to tell the difference — he tipped the liquid down his throat without question.
“…The alcohol got weaker… that’s weird…”
“Yeonjun. Try to come to your senses.”
“I’m perfectly fi—! Okay, honestly, I think I’m really very drunk. Executive Director……”
Round and round in circles. Beomwook was a patient man by nature — but he wasn’t so easygoing that he’d normally sit and listen to a man he barely knew ramble drunkenly on. And yet — watching Yeonjun cling stubbornly to his barstool, insisting he wasn’t getting up — the fact that he felt no real irritation over it was, quite honestly, strange. Beomwook took a small sip of the whisky he’d barely touched and let his gaze rest on Yeonjun.
“Executive Directoooor……”
