“Hyung!”
No matter how urgently he called out, Lee Heesoo gave no response.
Heesoo looked like an absolute wreck. His tear-soaked cheeks were filthy black, as though he’d slammed into things and rolled across the ground, covered in scrapes and abrasions. Distinct finger-shaped bruises stood out around his neck.
The clothes that had been perfectly fine only a few hours ago now looked as though they’d been discarded for decades, worn and rotted in countless places. His body, rigid with terror, was soaked and cold as if he’d spent a winter night naked outdoors. The soft, clean scent that normally clung to Heesoo had vanished, replaced by the sickening smell of stagnant water.
“Hyung, we need to go to the hospital—”
“Home… take me home.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Go home. Please…”
Lee Heesoo’s voice was desperate, pleading. There was an unmistakable heat beneath its faint trembling, completely unlike his usual self.
Looking down, he noticed that Heesoo’s cock was half-hard.
He remembered what he’d seen before pulling Heesoo out.
Kim Taeyoung pinning Lee Heesoo down, strangling him.
Unless Heesoo happened to have some very unusual fetish, it wasn’t remotely a situation that should have aroused him. In reality, Heesoo had been nothing but terrified. But it wasn’t the first time a ghost had forced his body to react against his own will.
Even so… like this…
“Fucking perverted bastards.”
At his low mutter, Heesoo flinched and shrank back. He’d clearly misunderstood.
Seeing Heesoo’s ears turn bright red, he bent down and whispered gently,
“I wasn’t talking about you, hyung.”
They could still treat someone at a hospital even if he had an erection. But if they actually went like this, Lee Heesoo’s embarrassment would probably kill him before anything else did.
Left with no other choice, he wrapped a blanket around Heesoo and lifted him into his arms. Shielding him from the bodyguards nearby, he caught Chief Secretary Yoo’s eye in the distance and gave him a meaningful look.
Handle everything.
Chief Secretary Yoo, who had watched the youngest Young Master grow up since childhood, nodded despite the obvious worry on his face.
The elevator to the top floor felt agonizingly slow today.
The moment it reached the nineteenth floor, he shoved the doors open and strode inside.
Perhaps because they had finally reached somewhere without anyone else around, Heesoo’s complexion improved ever so slightly.
“Put me down.”
Apparently it had only just dawned on Heesoo how embarrassing it was to be carried like this. His already excited voice trembled no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.
Ignoring the request, he headed straight for the bathroom. He sat Heesoo on the edge of the bathtub and turned on the warm water.
Still unable to grasp what was happening, Heesoo stared at him.
“W-What are you doing?”
“You need to wash up.”
He recalled the advice the shaman had given him.
First of all, it was never good to remain exactly as you were after coming into contact with a ghost. You had to wash away the dampness, cleanse yourself thoroughly, and restore your body to its proper state.
Judging by everything that had happened so far, tonight’s incident seemed to be over…But there was always the possibility that it wasn’t. Besides, if he stayed like this, he’d probably catch a cold.
Only then did Heesoo seem to understand.
He nodded.
“Okay. Then…”
“Take them off.”
“…Huh?”
Lee Heesoo blinked.
If he hadn’t known the man’s age, he would’ve guessed they were about the same age. That face looked absurdly innocent.
“I’ll wash you. Take them off.”
“What? N-No, that’s okay.”
As expected, Heesoo recoiled in horror. But he’d already decided what he was going to do before walking in here. There was no point arguing.
He simply shrugged.
“Both your wrists look sprained, and your ankle’s even worse than before. Don’t push yourself. Just take them off. I’ll wash you quickly.”
“No, w-wait…”
Without listening any further, he started undressing Lee Heesoo.
Those long eyelashes fluttered rapidly before lowering, and the warm amber bathroom light cast long shadows across Heesoo’s cheeks.
He really did accept things surprisingly fast.
Lee Heesoo was kind, indecisive, and incapable of saying harsh things to other people. So instead of insisting on his own way, he always tried to interpret things in the best possible light and simply accepted the situation.
He had exactly the sort of personality that made him an ideal target for scammers. Like an endangered protected species whose numbers kept dwindling because it possessed absolutely no sense of danger.
Despite having a face so striking that people would instinctively turn their heads just because he walked past, he had somehow remained this kind.
It wasn’t necessarily a compliment. Because whenever something bad happened, he seemed determined to blame himself first.
Heesoo stayed still while his shirt was removed, but the moment he reached for his pants, he gave a small, helpless struggle.
Frowning deeply, he practically ripped the pants off before tossing them across the bathroom.
What on earth had happened?
Heesoo’s snow-white legs were a complete mess. Dark bruises circled them as though thick ropes had been tied around them with brutal force.
He frowned and unconsciously reached out to touch one. The injury looked horrific.
“Ah…!”
Instead of crying out in pain like he’d expected, Heesoo let out a gasp.
He’d assumed the urgency of everything that had happened would’ve dulled it by now. Apparently not.
Their eyes met.
Heesoo’s body trembled with involuntary pleasure, and his face had turned scarlet all the way down to his neck. Unable to bear his gaze, Heesoo looked away.
“W-We should… wash…”
The excuse came out in a hesitant mumble. It was far too flimsy to be convincing.
He chose not to point it out. For now, washing away every trace the ghost had left behind mattered more.
“Yeah.”
“We should.”
He poured warm water over Heesoo once before filling the tub with bubbles and gently lowering him inside.
Heesoo was so drained that he nearly slipped, and when he caught him, the unintentional touch alone drew a low moan from his lips. His ears were so red they looked almost pitiful.
Even after letting go, Heesoo shifted awkwardly inside the oversized bathtub, fidgeting as though he had no idea what to do with himself.
He clearly couldn’t calm down. He was already thirty-two years old, yet somehow acted more innocent than someone nine years younger.
Then again, he’d spent his entire youth with Kim Taeyoung. This was probably his first experience of being this physically close to someone else. Nor was he the type who would fill the loneliness left by a dead lover with meaningless one-night stands.
Suppressing the strangely complicated feelings rising inside him, he squeezed shampoo into his palm.
“I’ll wash your hair first. Lean back.”
“Just… do it quickly…”
“Did you already forget what the shaman said? If you’ve come into contact with a ghost, you have to cleanse yourself.”
Heesoo immediately fell silent.
Taking his time, he began washing his hair. It was his first time doing something like this, and the process wasn’t particularly satisfying. He was naturally better with physical work than anything requiring delicate hands.
Still, determined not to yank out those soft strands of hair, he became unexpectedly absorbed in the task. Throughout it all, Heesoo kept flinching, squeezing his eyes shut, and biting his lip. At this rate, he was going to bite it bloody.
Clicking his tongue, he compromised and quickly rinsed away the shampoo.
“Your hair’s done.”
Heesoo didn’t answer. His eyes remained closed. He clearly wasn’t asleep.
Reaching over, he lightly tapped his cheek with his fingertips. Only after several persistent pokes did Heesoo slowly open his eyes.
Warm chestnut-brown irises gradually appeared beneath lowered lids, carrying a feverish glow unlike his usual gaze. Pretending not to notice, he smiled at him.
“We still have to wash the rest of you.”
“I… I’ll do it myself.”
Heesoo’s voice came out like a pained plea. His breathing had become far rougher than before.
Pretending not to notice, he lifted him back out of the bathtub.
Despite how accustomed Heesoo should’ve been after being carried around repeatedly at the hospital, his body still trembled violently.
“D-Don’t carry me…”
“Why not?”
“I’m… heavy…”
What nonsense. He’d carried him effortlessly several times already.
“I can bench-press more than the combined weight of two of you, hyung.”
“N-No, but…”
“I won’t look, so don’t worry.”
Instead of pretending not to understand, he directly addressed the concern Heesoo had been awkwardly dancing around.
Heesoo’s face instantly burst into bright crimson. His cock, which had already been partially erect before they’d entered the bathroom, was now fully hard, nearly pressing against his stomach. There was only so much pretending he could do when everything was completely exposed.
Watching as Heesoo instinctively pressed his thighs together, he asked,
“Why did this happen?”
“I met… Gitae…”
“That fucking bastard.”
Heesoo startled and shrank back.
“I wasn’t talking about you, hyung.”
The words escaped like a sigh.
Without thinking, he leaned down and kissed Heesoo on the forehead. The moment he pulled away, he regretted it.
Had that made him uncomfortable?
Looking back at him, he found Heesoo frozen stiff like a statue. It wasn’t disgust. If anything…The air between them tightened with palpable tension.
Pretending nothing had happened, he worked up more lather and began washing Heesoo’s body. Already painfully aware of him, Heesoo jolted the instant his hands touched him. For someone with such a beautiful, irresistibly sensual face, Lee Heesoo also seemed to have an abundance of sensitive spots.
After all, he’d spent more than ten years with a lover. Perhaps Kim Taeyoung had discovered every one of them.
Running his hands over a body that had grown noticeably thinner after so many days of barely eating made his own lips feel dry. Without realizing it, he ran his tongue across them. Seeing that, Heesoo twisted his body.
“Hng…”
The restrained moan finally escaped. Their eyes met. There was something desperately pleading in Heesoo’s gaze. The kind of hopeful look someone wore when they lacked the courage to ask outright but wanted the other person to lead them.
Without breaking eye contact, he continued washing him.
Across his chest. His stomach. His thighs. All the way down to his feet. Covered in scratches as he was, the sponge should have stung. But Heesoo seemed too overwhelmed to notice.
Eventually the sponge brushed against his cock. Heesoo squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Closing his eyes couldn’t hide the blush burning across the tips of his ears.
He lightly rubbed the head. That alone made Heesoo’s entire body shudder.
“Ah… ngh…”
“I’ll rinse you now.”
His voice remained calm as he withdrew his hand.
Heesoo slowly opened his eyes again. He looked dazed. Barely suppressing a smile, he picked up the showerhead and quietly rinsed away the bubbles.
Unlike his own hands, the stream of water washed away every trace of soap without another person’s touch. Yet the flush on Heesoo’s face refused to fade.
His breathing only grew rougher. The body that had been freezing cold not long ago now burned with heat. His already swollen eyes had become even redder.
“Ha… hnng…”
Moaning softly, Heesoo gripped his shoulder.
Tilting his head innocently, he asked,
“Hyung, are you feeling really bad?”
“N-No… it’s…”
Heesoo flinched violently.
Had he actually thought it wasn’t obvious what he was feeling? Sometimes Lee Heesoo genuinely seemed convinced he was far more experienced than he really was. Probably because someone had always indulged him. His face turned an even deeper shade of red in embarrassment.
Helping him sit somewhere he could lean comfortably, he smiled gently.
“Then I’ll step out.”
“…Huh?”
“It’s okay. Take care of it yourself and come out when you’re done.”
Heesoo blinked rapidly. His fluttering eyelashes looked like butterfly wings.
Struggling with every ounce of self-control not to lick, bite, and mark every inch of that snow-white skin now stained crimson, he stepped backward. Then he closed the bathroom door behind him and leaned against it.
For quite some time, no sound came from inside. Perhaps Heesoo was trying to calm himself down first. That certainly sounded like something he would do. Had he ever even masturbated by himself before?
Without meaning to, he pictured Heesoo in an obscene state. After what he’d just seen, imagining it wasn’t difficult. That elegant, almost artistic face contorted by pleasure. That moment when refined grace dissolved into raw lust. Awkwardly stroking his own cock…Or slipping trembling fingers behind himself…Calling out his name.
