“……?”
Moon Tae-young, who was in the middle of serving himself, looked up with a puzzled expression. It wasn’t like they’d just met yesterday—his gaze said, You really don’t know?
But then, just for a moment, his face stiffened. A fleeting glimpse of discomfort passed over his expression.
“I dunno. You always seem to be with someone after work, aren’t you?”
Moon Tae-young deflected smoothly, feigning nonchalance. But Cha Eui-sung wasn’t buying it. Tae-young knew exactly what was being asked—pretending otherwise made him insufferably smug.
Why’s he batting his eyes like that?
That man, who was anything but innocent, blinked at him with feigned purity. It was as if he already knew exactly what kind of expression got to Cha Eui-sung.
…Or was he wrong? Was he just seeing things?
Cha Eui-sung grumbled inwardly, but a treacherous flicker of attraction surfaced in him anyway.
The sensory interference should still be active, right?
He couldn’t even see Tae-young’s long lashes or that perfectly carved gaze, so why the hell was he feeling drawn to him?
Maybe the Authority passed down from the Outer God wasn’t some kind of perception block at all—maybe it was charm. That thought popped up unbidden, and Eui-sung furiously swore to himself as he crushed it.
Even letting his mind drift in that direction felt like proof that he’d already been entranced. If he didn’t keep a clear head, he might really end up getting devoured.
“Ah. Sure.”
He let out a dry scoff and turned away from Tae-young’s eyes. The sound said everything—We both know what I’m asking, so why play dumb?
He probably meant to bring up the dungeon that night in the hotel anyway. No way he planned to keep it a secret forever.
And just as expected, Moon Tae-young stirred his chopsticks around an empty plate and let out a contemplative hum.
“Well, aside from that… there is something I’ve been working on.”
The way he peeked sideways at Eui-sung while speaking made him look strangely sheepish. Almost endearing.
There we go.
Cha Eui-sung’s earlier sulk melted away as his eyes sparkled.
“What could you possibly be preparing that requires that kind of gear?”
“That kind of… hah.”
“Oh—never mind. Don’t answer. Just tell me when you feel like it.”
He even handed over some control to ease the pressure. But all Tae-young did was trail off with a laugh.
Cha Eui-sung popped another bite of vegetables into his mouth with a satisfying crunch and added casually,
“I actually really like hearing you talk, you know. It’d be even better if we were lying down, but—well, we’re eating, so.”
Tae-young raised an eyebrow and gave him a strange smile, a twist of his lips that hovered somewhere between amused and restrained.
Still, Eui-sung could tell—just barely—that he’d hit a nerve.
He was wavering. Even before words he didn’t want to say, he hesitated this much.
That vulnerable, unraveling look over a single “I like you” was almost pitiful. And maybe that’s what finally softened the unspoken tension inside Cha Eui-sung’s chest.
Right. He was the one who fell first.
His own feelings were barely at a fingertip’s length—at this point, he was holding the line remarkably well.
While Cha Eui-sung kept up his inner monologue, Moon Tae-young seemed caught in his own dilemma.
And eventually, the man spoke, as if slipping it out by accident.
“It’s not mine, actually. I’m… leasing it? Maybe more like illegal occupation.”
“Illegal occupation? Well, yeah. I mean, who’d sell that kind of thing.”
His light agreement seemed to please Tae-young. He let out a small laugh, the left corner of his mouth curving up into a pretty smile.
Pretty?
The word snuck in before Eui-sung realized it, and he almost ruined his calm act.
What the hell was he doing, calling this giant of a man pretty?
“I need it for a long-term project… You know how villains always have a control tower or something?”
“Villains? Oh—you mean that octopus underling…”
“Octopus…”
Tae-young crinkled his forehead oddly. Clearly, he found it funny but couldn’t quite laugh since it was about him.
“So what, this control tower—are you piloting robots now or something?”
The wording was just too weird not to question, but Tae-young averted his gaze, pretending not to hear.
That meant he couldn’t answer. That meant part of the question had hit a little too close to the truth.
Just what the hell is he controlling in the dungeon?
The question sent a chill through him, but Cha Eui-sung stayed silent.
This was a confession hard-won through patience. He wasn’t about to poke the wrong nerve and send the guy running.
“So that’s why you’ve been busy? Off managing your secret villain project?”
“Well, among other things.”
“You’re giving up sleep to go there, aren’t you? Around dawn, maybe…”
The moment he asked, Moon Tae-young’s face changed to one of surprise, as if to say, How did you know? The way his brow lifted slightly and tension crept into his face—that was a gentle, wordless pressure to answer.
Cha Eui-sung picked out only the bell peppers from the stir-fry and delayed his response for a moment, then finally let his chopsticks clatter and spoke.
“We met there at dawn. Don’t you remember?”
That morning—when he’d been staggering under the weight of the Gigas Armor, coughing up blood. The shock he’d felt the moment his body started to recover and he saw Tae-young’s feet.
Sure, it had made Moon Tae-young more suspicious, but that incident had also become a vital clue in tracking down the King’s base of operations.
Judging by Tae-young’s bitter expression now, he’d figured that out too. He hadn’t expected Eui-sung to have caught on that early.
“Neither of us were in a state worth showing off, so let’s just call it even.”
To be honest, Cha Eui-sung had been the more rattled one at the time. Moon Tae-young let out a sigh and nodded, brushing off his discomfort.
“It’s not really villain stuff that’s keeping me busy… I just need to clean up periodically.”
“Ah, right. It does tend to overflow. But it must not be too hard to manage? You stop by sometimes after work, don’t you?”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at him again.
Eui-sung, growing mildly irritated by how often he kept biting his own tongue, just blurted it out.
“Don’t you wash your hands like a dozen times after coming back from there?”
“……What?”
“I like the smell of your soap.”
He’d rubbed his face against those hands more than once, so it wasn’t like he had no reason to notice.
Maybe it was the realization that Eui-sung had been noticing things in ways he hadn’t expected, but Moon Tae-young stared down at his chopstick-holding hand in silence.
Then he slowly raised his gaze—and their eyes met.
Eui-sung saw the faintest crack spread across that perfectly calm brow.
It wasn’t anger. His Adam’s apple shifted and his jaw twitched, like he was…
Wait—why is he turned on?
That expression—a person wouldn’t recognize it unless they’d been with him. To put it mildly, he was intrigued. Less mildly, he was aroused.
Knowing Eui-sung had tangled with those hands even while suspecting where they’d been must’ve tripped some sort of switch in the Demon King’s moral compass.
At the same time, Tae-young’s eyes narrowed slightly. For some reason, that sent a chill down Eui-sung’s spine—and made him look sinfully good.
Shit.
Eui-sung licked his lips but stopped midway and swallowed hard.
No. Not now. Not when there was still so much he needed to learn.
“Anyway, if it’s cleanup duty, I think I could help.”
“Doubtful.”
“You never know. I might be better at it than you.”
He made the bold declaration, then blinked like he was nervous. Because in reality, Cha Eui-sung was an Awakened who’d never even set foot in a dungeon or real combat.
That mess with Lee Sang-jo had been his first real taste of battle. As far as Moon Tae-young knew, at least.
“I can handle it on my own. It’s a solo project—villain-exclusive.”
“Even villains hire cleaning staff, though.”
“This villain doesn’t.”
He had just been teetering on the edge a moment ago, and now he cut him off like a blade. Well, yeah—no sane person would let someone else into that place.
Still, Eui-sung had tried taking a stab at it, just in case. No dice.
After that, Moon Tae-young started picking at his food again. The way he moved made it clear—he was ready to wrap up the conversation.
Before that could happen, Eui-sung snatched a bite off his plate. When their eyes met, he quickly asked what he needed to.
“Just tell me one thing. That project of yours—is it for revenge?”
Tae-young’s eyes widened. His expression said it all: How much do you already know?
“It is, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“I know the look. When someone’s got a lot to get back for.”
“……”
“The way their face changes. The way they move.”
Halfway through, Eui-sung let out a sigh. It wasn’t planned—it just escaped.
Moon Tae-young stopped responding and stared at him, steady and quiet.
His dark eyes, which had wavered just moments ago, had stilled completely—deep and bottomless like an abyss.
Yeah… He’s not gonna say it that easily.
You had to give something to get something.
To draw him out, Cha Eui-sung carefully started flipping through his own mental files.
“I may not know much, but I do read people. I told you before.”
Back when they were watching that dumb movie preview show together:
“If one day, for whatever reason, you end up seeking revenge—I’ll help you.”
“That won’t happen.”
“I hope it does. I won’t get my chance at revenge anymore.”
Even then, he’d wavered. The emotional gauge had ticked up, despite how hard he tried to hide it.
Remembering that, Moon Tae-young’s expression turned unreadable. Eui-sung gave a few dry coughs and glanced down at his palm.
Like he was checking for blood.
Then he quickly curled his fingers and stuffed his hand under the low table.
You’re not the only one with a past, you know. I’ve got a whole damn graveyard in mine.
He straightened up as if nothing had happened. But Tae-young’s eyes followed his hand.
And since they’d just talked about that incident in the empty lot, there’s no way it didn’t remind him of all the blood and injuries.
Great. Now he’s probably more interested in my failed revenge story than his own damn master plan.
Just how tangled was his brain right now? Eui-sung wanted to part that thick head of hair and peek inside.
“……”
“……”
The silence between them lingered—and grew richer.
Eui-sung could see it now. Those brown eyes, once full of wounds, were slowly finding resolve.
Finally. The moment he’d been working toward.
He’d spent so much time trying to get here—so he could say this naturally.
Emotion welling up in his throat, he parted his trembling lips.
“If you don’t want to explain, that’s fine. But if it’s something you truly want…”
“Cha Eui-sung.”
“I want to help you.”
So let me in. Stop pushing me away.
This is something only I can do.
