It had already been seven years since Director Jeong started watching over him. He’d known Bae Jung-yoon since the guy was in high school.
And yet, even now, he still couldn’t say for sure what kind of person Bae Jung-yoon truly was. That ever-smiling face gave nothing away—there was no telling what went on behind it.
The one thing he could say with confidence was this: Bae Jung-yoon was built differently. The guy was born with a body made for physical prowess.
Some might argue that hard work beats talent, but Director Jeong didn’t agree. To him, talent outshines effort every time. And by that standard, Bae Jung-yoon was a rare gem—undeniably desirable to anyone who had an eye for it.
Director Jeong wasn’t the type to let a golden opportunity pass him by. His desire crept in slowly, and more than once, he casually asked if Bae Jung-yoon had ever considered entering a tournament. But each time, the answer was the same—he wasn’t interested in that kind of thing.
Truth be told, that made sense. Sitting at a polished mahogany desk with a pen in hand suited Bae Jung-yoon’s image far more than stepping into a blood-splattered ring. His future was already clearly mapped out, after all.
Besides, boxing wasn’t exactly a money-making career. Especially not in Korea, where it barely registered as a popular sport.
So Director Jeong knew full well there was no real reason for Bae Jung-yoon to pursue it. The guy had only taken up boxing as a way to burn off excess energy. That was all.
He accepted that logical conclusion and tried to move on—until he saw Bae Jung-yoon spar. Then the regret came flooding back, every single time.
His demeanor would shift the instant sparring began. Just seconds ago, he’d been all easy smiles, but now—his eyes turned icy and razor-sharp. Even the bravest fighter would feel a chill crawl down their spine under that gaze.
In the ring, he claimed the center like it was his throne, moving just enough to be deadly efficient. He had an uncanny ability to read his opponent’s moves and counter them instinctively.
Up there, he was terrifyingly composed. He didn’t flinch at punches. And yet, he fought clean—disciplined, elegant, even graceful.
But there were moments when that composure cracked. When an opponent landed a lucky blow, everything about him would change in an instant. Although… from the other guy’s perspective, that “luck” was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened.
Because when that switch flipped, Bae Jung-yoon became something else. There’s a saying—his eyes went wild. Director Jeong had seen that saying brought to life with his own eyes.
If someone even grazed him the wrong way, he never let it go. Director Jeong still remembered the first time he saw him knock someone out—then climb on top and keep pummeling. He’d been so stunned, he forgot to step in.
When he finally came to and dragged him off, Bae Jung-yoon had looked completely deranged. “Demonic” didn’t begin to cover it. He was evil itself, disguised as an angel.
At some point, Director Jeong came to a firm realization: there was only one reason Bae Jung-yoon kept coming to the gym—release. If he didn’t have this place to let out his violent impulses, he would 100% end up causing trouble elsewhere.
And when he made that face—it was a red flag. His mouth might be smiling, but if you looked into those pitch-black eyes, there was nothing warm in them. Just a cold, seething undercurrent.
Every time Director Jeong saw that look, a chill crept down his spine. What the hell is bothering him now? Whatever it was, best not to ask. He shoved the thought aside and cleared his throat with a forced cough.
“The other guy’s still alive, right?”
He really was curious. What kind of condition would someone be in after leaving marks like that on Bae Jung-yoon? At the very least, a broken arm or leg, surely. While he was still imagining the damage, Jung-yoon let out a soft chuckle and answered with lazy confidence.
“Of course. What kind of person do you take me for?”
“What kind? I’m basing it on the Bae Jung-yoon I know. That’s why I’m asking. What’s the deal—letting someone off after drawing your blood?”
“When a pet cat scratches its owner’s hand, the owner doesn’t turn around and punish it the same way, right?”
He muttered something vague and started unwrapping the tight hand wraps from his fists. Not only that, he also began tidying up his personal gear. Director Jeong looked at him, puzzled.
“Where’re you off to? Weren’t you going to do a round? The kids’ll be here soon.”
Judging by his sour mood, Jeong had figured anyone who sparred with him today would get wrecked. But unexpectedly, he was backing off without a fuss. Deep down, Jeong was relieved—but he wasn’t clueless enough to let it show.
“I was going to, but…”
Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, Bae Jung-yoon flashed a gentle smile.
“Something came up. I’ll come back next time, Director.”
***
“The salons in my neighborhood are way cheaper than this…”
After finishing up at the salon, Hoon stepped out, awkwardly brushing at his bangs. He pulled out his phone and checked his reflection in the dark screen.
His clothes were still wrinkled and plain, but now his hair looked almost too well-groomed. He stared at himself, lips pursed in fake seriousness. Still, there was no denying it—he looked way more polished than before.
Up until then, he’d been feeling pretty good about the rare bit of self-care. But all that evaporated the moment Yoon Seong-gon saw him—and immediately scowled.
“What the hell happened to you? Why do you look like that?”
The way Seong-gon scanned him from head to toe—rude and completely lacking any filter—had curses bubbling in Hoon’s throat. But he swallowed them down. Now wasn’t the time to blow up.
He’d brought Seong-gon to this pork rib place to apologize. That was the whole point. So no matter how much Seong-gon ran his mouth today, Hoon had decided to just laugh it off. Suppressing his temper, he replied calmly.
“Told you—I slipped on a wet road while doing a delivery.”
“Man, hyung, your luck really sucks.”
Exactly. Why is my luck so damn awful? He’d been asking himself that same question every day lately. There wasn’t much to say in return. Instead of responding, Hoon quietly wiped his hands with a wet tissue. Seong-gon clicked his tongue in disapproval and pressed on.
“When are they taking the stitches out?”
“Next week.”
“So when are you giving my bike back? Can I take it today?”
Hoon gave a dry little cough and glanced to the side.
“Let me hold onto it a bit longer. I wiped out pretty hard, but there’s not a single scratch on it. That thing’s solid—really nice ride.”
“Oh, so as long as the bike is okay, we’re good? What about you? You got torn up!”
Seong-gon crossed his arms, clearly annoyed, then narrowed his eyes.
“You’re not seriously thinking of picking up delivery work again, are you?”
“Once I’m healed, yeah. When I’ve earned enough to pay you back for the bike, I’ll return it.”
“Hyuuung, come on. Give it a rest, will you? Take care of yourself.”
“I will. I’m only gonna work on days when the sun’s out and shining bright, so don’t worry.”
Hoon replied like it was no big deal, but Seong-gon just gave him a look of exasperation.
“Seriously, who’s gonna stop this guy?”
He shook his head in disbelief—then suddenly changed expression.
“Oh! Hyung, over here!”
And then, he started waving at someone.
Hoon turned his head, puzzled—and immediately froze the moment he saw who had just walked in through the restaurant entrance.
Bae Jung-yoon.
Looked like he’d changed clothes. He was neatly dressed—black slacks, a white T-shirt, and a sky-blue button-down layered over it.
“What the hell is this?”
Hoon whipped his head back toward Seong-gon, who just grinned like an idiot.
“I mean, you’ve been crashing at Jung-yoon hyung’s place, right? You eat together every day, but then you totally ditched him today just because you had plans with me. He told me he was kinda hurt about that. What was I supposed to do—pretend I didn’t hear it?”
“You should’ve told me if he reached out to you.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise guest appearance. And hey—if it’s about money, don’t stress. Jung-yoon hyung said he’s treating us today.”
That clueless, cheerful smile of his made Hoon let out a dry, bitter laugh. It felt like getting sucker punched right in the back of the head.
I told you I’d treat you—why the hell would you drag Bae Jung-yoon into this? I came here specifically to avoid being alone with him.
His frustration must’ve been radiating from his eyes, because Seong-gon just gave a nonchalant shrug.
“You’re broke, hyung. I have a conscience, you know. I can’t just mooch off someone who doesn’t have anything.”
“You little shit.”
If he weren’t running his mouth, he’d be catching a smack right about now. But before Hoon could even react, Bae Jung-yoon reached the table, and he clamped his mouth shut.
“It’s been a while, Seong-gon. You doing okay?”
“Of course! You look even cooler than I remembered, hyung.”
Watching the two of them exchange friendly greetings made Hoon feel completely deflated. He’d had something he wanted to ask Seong-gon, but the plan fell apart before he even opened his mouth.
He’d been hoping to crash at Seong-gon’s place for just one week—he was tired of mooching off Bae Jung-yoon. But now that the landlord had shown up in person, there was no way to bring it up. Jung-yoon would absolutely press for a reason.
Why does everything always get so damn complicated? Hoon scowled as Bae Jung-yoon sat down beside him. A sharp-eyed server quickly came over to set a place for the new arrival.
“I’m just gonna hit the restroom real quick.”
Seong-gon, having been on the receiving end of Hoon’s death stare for a while now, seemed to realize it was time to retreat. He got up and made a swift exit from Hoon’s line of sight.
With his primary target gone, Hoon turned to face the one now seated next to him—Bae Jung-yoon—and stared him down.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Hoon?”
Jung-yoon asked the question calmly, just as Hoon shot back with one of his own.
“What are you doing here?”
