# Chapter 1
## 1. Revealing One’s Hand
Lee Haeseung pushed aside the tissue box and listlessly pulled up his pants. The small sigh that escaped from the corner of his lips was immediately drowned out by the endless high-pitched moans of ecstasy. Haeseung stared at the screen filled with flesh tones through unfocused eyes before closing the laptop lid. Simultaneously, the wet moans that had filled the room—whether of pain or pleasure, it was hard to distinguish—abruptly stopped.
Haeseung’s dazed expression made him look almost soulless. He slowly turned his head to look up at the life-sized standee occupying a corner of his small room. Kang Mugyeong, who had captured the hearts of women across South Korea with his distinctive eye smile, looked down at Haeseung with the same unchanging expression he’d worn for months. Suddenly, an inexplicable resentment began to bloom in Haeseung’s chest. As if trying to shake off this growing emotion, Haeseung defiantly got up and made his way to the bathroom.
It was his first weekend after taking the college entrance exam. November’s cold had settled in the bathroom. Haeseung hurriedly stripped off his clothes. The cold air assaulted his naked body, raising goosebumps all at once. He endured the cold while waiting for the water to warm up, then finally thawed his body under the warm stream. Haeseung stood under the warm water for a long time. As his body grew languid, the subtle stimulation of water against his genitals sent a tingling through his blood. Haeseung unconsciously started to reach for his sensitized member but hesitated. The awkwardly withdrawn hand redirected toward the shampoo container. Haeseung focused on lathering his hair, deliberately diverting his attention. Perhaps it was his intention to wash away even his distracting thoughts. Haeseung showered longer than usual before leaving the bathroom.
A vibration sounded. Haeseung, who had been drying his wet hair, quickly snatched up his smartphone. He was waiting for a message. Water droplets from his hair fell onto his feet, but Haeseung paid no attention as he checked the message.
“Do you believe in past lives?”
Haeseung checked who had sent this abrupt, absurd question, but it was an unknown number not registered in his phone. He was about to ignore it but sent a reply instead.
“I think you’ve sent this to the wrong person.”
Almost immediately, another message arrived from the same number. A satisfied smile finally spread across Haeseung’s face when he read the second message.
“You posted the listing selling the Kang Mugyeong standee, right? Has it been sold yet?”
About an hour earlier, Haeseung had posted a listing on a secondhand trading site. Fearing the sender might change their mind, Haeseung quickly replied. The random talk about past lives was a bit off-putting, but he didn’t want to lose a potential buyer.
“It hasn’t been sold yet. Are you interested in buying it?”
The standee featuring Olympic shooting gold medalist Kang Mugyeong, who modeled for a cosmetic brand, had become a veritable syndrome. With news articles about standee thefts popping up everywhere, it was easy to imagine the level of popularity it enjoyed. As mentioned earlier, with so many people wanting one, listings with questionable sourcing began appearing brazenly on secondhand trading sites. Since there was no official retail price for these items, sellers set their own prices. As transactions went through smoothly despite exorbitant prices, the market value naturally skyrocketed. It seemed absurd, but it was simply the law of market economics at work.
Haeseung had decided to charge just enough to cover his graduation trip expenses—no more, no less. Though cheaper than other listings on the site, it was still a considerable amount. Five zeros, to be exact.
“I’ll buy it. Are you available today? If you are, I can come to XX Station by 6 PM.”
The reply came in less than thirty seconds. Since the standee’s size made only in-person transactions possible, Haeseung had specified the subway station in his neighborhood as the meeting location when posting the listing. He had anticipated some haggling—perhaps a request to meet halfway since XX Station was too far. Contrary to his expectations, the potential buyer agreed without fuss. Haeseung thought he was lucky. He promptly replied that 6 PM today worked for him, then let out a small sigh as he gazed at Kang Mugyeong’s standee. Haeseung exchanged a bland farewell glance with his roommate of three months and resumed drying his hair.
Around 5:45 PM, Haeseung, wearing a hat and mask, left his rooftop room while embracing the standee around the waist. It felt like he was hugging a large man, which was somewhat uncomfortable.
The rooftop room Haeseung had just left was on top of a four-story building owned by his parents. His parents rented out the first three floors and lived on the fourth floor with his sister. Haeseung used to live with his parents on the fourth floor until about a year ago when, during winter break of his second year in high school, he boldly declared his independence to the rooftop room under the pretext of studying for the college entrance exam. For about a week, there seemed to be no chance of persuading his parents, but after continued persuasion and the semi-threatening claim that he couldn’t concentrate on studying, they finally gave in. However, a harsh condition was attached: they would cut off his allowance. As a result, Haeseung hadn’t seen much money for nearly a year.
While descending the stairs, Haeseung sensitively checked for any signs of life on the fourth floor. He couldn’t meet his parents in his current state, and an unfortunate encounter with his sister absolutely had to be avoided. Confirming no one was around, Haeseung quickly went down the stairs, reaching the second floor in one go. His heart was pounding fiercely. This is why, when he rounded the landing and came face to face with his sister who was coming up the stairs, he thought his heart would burst.
“Where are you going?” his sister asked with wide eyes as she met Haeseung’s gaze.
“Meeting a friend.”
“Why are you carrying that?”
“You don’t need to know, noona. I’m late.”
Haeseung swiftly descended the stairs. Ignoring his sister’s loud voice behind him, he left the building and sprinted toward the subway station. The stinging gazes from passersby pricked at him. It’s fine. They’re just strangers he’d never see again. Reassuring himself, Haeseung arrived at the subway station. His rough breathing painfully hit his throat. After carefully setting down the standee, Haeseung positioned himself four or five steps away, then moved five steps further. If someone was here to meet him, they would surely recognize the standee and look around. He would approach and speak to them then. Haeseung caught his breath and carefully observed the women passing by. He was certain the buyer would be female. What kind of man would be crazy enough to pay good money for a male athlete’s standee?
Then why did Haeseung, a man, have Kang Mugyeong’s standee? The buyer might wonder about this and perhaps directly question how he obtained it. With standee theft incidents being common, suspicion was reasonable. Haeseung had already prepared a plausible excuse: he would claim his parents operated one of the brand’s shops.
He checked the time. About five minutes remained until the appointment. The cold November wind fiercely swept away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead from his sprint. A chilly sensation spread throughout his body, making him tremble. Haeseung shrugged his shoulders and wiped his damp forehead with his palm.
Just then, a woman who looked like a college student approached the standee with a flushed face and gazed at it for quite some time. Haeseung swallowed dryly as he looked at her face. Could it be her? He watched her closely and approached. However, the woman didn’t even glance at Haeseung and passed by like other pedestrians. Similar situations repeated several times after that. By now, Haeseung had become numb to it and hardly cared whether people looked at the standee or not. Instead, he checked the time more frequently. The appointment time had already passed by 30 minutes. Unable to wait any longer, Haeseung sent a message to the buyer.
“I’m waiting in front of XX Station. When will you arrive?”
After waiting for five minutes with no reply, he recalled the playful message, “Do you believe in past lives?” The thought that he might have been deceived began to make his anger rise. His cold thumb hovered over the call button. Haeseung steeled himself and made the call.
“Hello.”
Haeseung hesitated at the unexpected voice from the other end. It was a man’s voice.
“Ah, um. I’m from the secondhand site, the standee, you know who I am, right? I’m currently at the station…”
“Yes, I know.”
The man’s voice cut off Haeseung’s words calmly. He showed no awareness that he was nearly 40 minutes late. Haeseung was dumbfounded, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to get angry yet.
“Then you must know we agreed to meet at 6 o’clock today.”
“I’m almost there.”
“If you’re going to be late, you should at least send a text. It’s cold out here…”
Even as Haeseung let his words trail off with a grumble, he was secretly relieved that contact had been made. Besides, the buyer said he was almost there.
“I’m sorry.”
After hearing such a polite apology, Haeseung’s heart rapidly melted. Until the cash was in hand, it seemed best not to frown. After telling him to hurry and hanging up first, Haeseung quietly gazed at the standee that would soon be sold to a man. He hadn’t anticipated Kang Mugyeong being sold to a man. It felt strange. His curiosity was also piqued. Why on earth would he buy this? Haeseung resolved to ask the buyer when he arrived.
After about 10 minutes, someone tapped Haeseung’s shoulder from behind. Haeseung turned around. A tall man wearing a black baseball cap pulled low stood there.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
