Kim Sibaek’s fashion sense could best be described as “whatever someone else gives him.” He usually accepted things without complaint, so even when he saw clothes that Tae Woon had apparently bought for him, he simply thought, So that’s how it is, and let it go.
[“Death and Beauty” teases him, asking if he only knows two colors—black and white.]
He probably would not have given it a second thought if Biendeoé had not brought it up. But after hearing her comment, he took another look at his wardrobe—and realized it really was all black. Every single pair of pants, regardless of style, was black. His tops were a mix of black and white, and the only colorful items were a few loungewear sets he wore at home.
Come to think of it, Woonie only ever wore black too.
His coats, suits, ties, even his dress shirts were all dark. He didn’t seem to mind; even at home, he wore dress pants and button-downs. And whether he was inside or outside, he always wore black gloves. His face was the only thing pale—and it was really pale, like milk.
[“Death and Beauty” groans at the unnecessary detail and adds that she’d understand if he wore gloves due to mysophobia.]
“He never had mysophobia. Still doesn’t, as far as I can tell…”
Kim Sibaek, who had never seen him in anything remotely casual, tilted his head. Surely his entire wardrobe wasn’t just black?
[“Death and Beauty” reminds him that the room her Apostle stays in is also decorated entirely in black and white.]
“That’s true.”
Unlike the rest of the house, which looked like something out of a design magazine, the guest room where Kim Sibaek stayed was starkly monochrome. Not unpleasant—but it was odd that only this room stood out.
He held onto that curiosity until lunchtime. And the moment Tae Woon came upstairs with their meal, he asked,
“When did you start liking black clothes?”
“That’s random.”
“I just got curious.”
“Hmm… It’s not that I like it—it just became a habit. Back when I was trapped in old Seoul, even finding clothes to change into was hard. Black didn’t show dirt as easily, and you couldn’t see bloodstains as much. I got used to it. Oh, not from monsters or anything—just blood from people I was helping.”
So it stemmed from his rough childhood. Kim Sibaek felt a pang of sympathy and gently patted him on the rear in a comforting gesture.
“Mind if I check out your closet?”
Tae Woon touched his reddening earlobe.
“You can go in. It’s not like I’ve got anything to hide from you.”
“Still, barging into a grown kid’s room feels kind of wrong.”
“The later at night you come in, the more welcome you are. I’d love it if you warmed up the bed.”
“…What?”
Before Kim Sibaek could fully process that, Tae Woon casually linked arms with him and led him toward the room. The closet was even darker than expected. He had assumed the casual wear might be different—but no, it was all black too.
“Woonie, did you design my room’s interior yourself?”
“Yeah. Every time I missed you, I imagined you living here and picked out furniture and decorations one by one.”
“Ah…”
At this point, maybe black was his true aesthetic—even if he didn’t realize it himself. Kim Sibaek reached out and ran a hand through Tae Woon’s deep black hair.
It suited him, sure. But part of him wanted to see Tae Woon dressed more like a kid—wearing something cheerful and bright. He used to be so cute, waddling around in oversized, pastel clothes like a little chick.
Then he felt a firm weight press down on the back of his hand.
He had been lost in the image of a younger Tae Woon. But when a hand larger than his own gently covered it, he snapped out of it. What kid? This was someone who’d grown into a solid, reliable adult.
Tae Woon slowly lowered their joined hands. The touch glided down his skin like a caress—smooth, intentional, unfamiliar. Instinctively, Kim Sibaek tried to pull back, but Tae Woon interlocked their fingers and pressed a soft kiss to his palm.
Warm breath grazed his skin. A subtle, ticklish sensation crept from his wrist down to his core—both strangely familiar and disconcertingly new. Just as tension rose in his hand, Tae Woon’s eyes crinkled in a smile.
“Since we’re talking about it, let’s go buy you some clothes.”
“…Oh. Yeah, okay.”
His voice was bright and casual—completely at odds with that soft kiss—and Kim Sibaek answered without thinking.
Their hands parted effortlessly. Even after returning to his room to change, the strange tingling wouldn’t fade. He kept rubbing his palm without realizing it.
When he asked what about work, Tae Woon confidently said he had taken a half-day. Hard to argue when the CEO was the one giving himself time off. Though… did CEOs even have vacation days?
Kim Sibaek, who had never worked for a typical company—not even back on Earth—tilted his head in confusion. Then he came to his senses and realized they were already in the car. He thought they’d hit a nearby store, but Tae Woon drove him to a department store instead.
The first thing Tae Woon bought was a cap, which he plopped on Kim Sibaek’s head. Dressed in his usual black and white, the bright red cap stood out sharply. Biendeoé, now perched on top of the hat rather than his head, grumbled in annoyance.
[“Death and Beauty” complains that sitting on the hat is uncomfortable.]
The store manager, who had thought she was just some strange plush toy, flinched when he realized she was an actual bird.
“I don’t really need a cap.”
“I thought it might be better to cover your face.”
“…?”
He couldn’t read the English on the cap, but since it was a gift, he wore it anyway. They hadn’t even browsed a few shops when staff from MA Department Store came rushing over in a flurry.
“We’re terribly sorry for the delay—we weren’t aware you had arrived. Please allow us to escort you to a private room immediately.”
A quick glance at a name tag revealed the title: General Manager of the VIP Lounge. Tae Woon frowned and waved them off.
“We’ll look around on our own.”
“Then at least allow the Guildmaster’s personal shopper and a porter to accompany you—”
“Don’t bother us and ge—”
“Woonie.”
Just as he was about to say get lost, Kim Sibaek looked at him—his expression clearly saying, Don’t be rude to people who are just doing their job. Tae Woon bit back the end of his sentence and softened his tone.
“We’re on a date. Please don’t interrupt.”
Then, smiling sweetly, he linked arms with Kim Sibaek.
“Let’s go, hyung.”
As they walked away, leaving behind the clearly more stunned staff—more so than if Tae Woon had just cursed them—Kim Sibaek drifted into thought.
While he was lost in his head, blinking distractedly, Tae Woon suddenly leaned in and pressed his lips to the back of Kim Sibaek’s neck.
“Ahh!”
Kim Sibaek practically jumped in shock at the sharp nip. Biendeoé, startled as well, flapped into the air with a flurry of wings.
Tae Woon smiled innocently, looking utterly harmless.
“What were you thinking about so hard? Were you thinking of me?”
“What the hell was that?!”
“I got upset. You were walking around with me and still thinking about something else. I wanted your attention.”
“What kind of attention…?”
Sighing, Kim Sibaek pressed his palm to his forehead.
“Fine. I was thinking about you. You’ve grown up so much… I wasn’t sure if I should still be scolding you like this.”
“Hmm… I think I know the kind of nagging you mean, so let’s say I heard it already. If I can be even half as polite to others as I am with you, that should be enough, right? So stop frowning. You’re going to wrinkle your forehead.”
The fact that Tae Woon had literally bitten him for attention like a dog was absurd—but now he was massaging the spot on his neck where he’d bitten him, and pressing his thumbs into the furrow between his brows in a playful way. Kim Sibaek, who always had a soft spot for him, couldn’t stay mad.
He really turns into a ball of affection around me…
There were so many times he’d been called to school in place of the nuns or priests from the orphanage as Tae Woon’s guardian. The kid hadn’t even been that big for his age, but when a fight broke out, he’d latch on and bite like a feral mutt. The hospital bills he’d had to pay to the parents of other kids weren’t minor either.
“Want to start by looking at something comfortable to wear?”
That soft voice shattered the cloud of memory. Kim Sibaek decided to go along and just enjoy the shopping trip for now.
“Is it okay if I buy a lot of clothes?”
[“Death and Beauty” remarks that clothes are not bought—they are offered in tribute.]
“Now that you mention it, it really has been a while since I bought my own clothes.”
“Why? Did you just wear those flowy things the whole time? The priest robes or whatever?”
“I did wear casual clothes too, but they were all gifts.”
He explained how tributes worked in the Cult—how businesses and corporations would donate custom-designed pieces from famous designers as offerings. It served both to display faith and as a promotional tool.
Tae Woon grit his teeth slightly.
“…Wow. I haven’t felt this kind of defeat in a while.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I was planning to buy you a suit, but forget it. At the very least, we’re getting your next one custom-made.”
“Huh?”
Without waiting for a response, Tae Woon took his hand and led him toward a nearby shop, his eyes burning with determination.
