“Seungju is annoying, but he’s not worth getting worked up over.”
“He is worth getting worked up over.”
“Why? Would you like it if I got hurt?”
“Yes.”
Euntae answered without a second of hesitation, and Yeojun could tell he was serious. He usually knew when Euntae was joking, but this wasn’t one of those times. The sincerity in his voice was unsettling. Does he actually want me to suffer? Yeojun studied him, trying to understand the intent behind the words. Euntae, sensing his gaze, spoke up without hesitation.
“Then maybe you’d get fired up. ‘How dare this guy act like that? I’ll crush him,’ and you’d work harder.”
Yeojun relaxed after hearing that. It was cruelty disguised as kindness. Of course, it wasn’t the whole truth—but it wasn’t a lie either. Euntae did hope that if Yeojun got hurt, he’d fight back harder. But there was also another hope: that Yeojun, isolated by his pain, might turn to him.
“Want to grab some beer on the way?”
The car was nearing Yeojun’s apartment. A familiar convenience store came into view, and Euntae suggested stopping for a drink. Yeojun shook his head. “No. Someone might use it as an excuse to say I was drunk.”
“Can’t you just let it go?”
“Not today.”
“So that means it’s okay on other days.”
“Want me to answer that?”
As the car slowed near the apartment, Yeojun looked at Euntae. He couldn’t tell if Euntae was teasing or just brushing things off, but either way, his guard was lower than usual.
“Don’t. If you don’t answer, I can pretend whatever I want.”
Yeojun didn’t respond further, and Euntae didn’t expect him to. The car soon pulled into the parking lot, and Yeojun got out, opening the back door to check on the still-sleeping Haneul. Euntae unbuckled his seatbelt as Yeojun carefully lifted Haneul into his arms.
“Thanks for today. Drive safe.”
“I’m really leaving?”
Euntae asked as they stood side by side in the elevator, Yeojun pressing the buttons for the 1st and 15th floors—the 15th for Yeojun, the 1st for Euntae.
“Want me to say it nicely again?”
“You’re too much. I drove you all the way here in the cold, and you won’t even offer me a drink.”
“Stop clinging and get lost.”
Yeojun didn’t even look at him. The elevator reached the 1st floor, and the doors opened. Euntae hesitated for a moment before shrugging and stepping out. Just as he was about to feel slighted for not getting so much as a glance, he heard a quiet “Thanks” from behind him. By the time he turned around, the elevator doors were closing. He could have caught them, but he didn’t. He’d see Yeojun again soon enough—tomorrow, or the day after.
***
The bus was packed with people, likely because it was rush hour. Euntae barely managed to find a spot to stand and gazed out the window. It had been a while since he’d left work at this time. Earlier, when he’d brushed off Hyunho’s attempts to keep him at work, he hadn’t really felt the significance of leaving early. But now, squeezed into the crowded bus, it finally hit him.
The past seven months had been nonstop. He hadn’t had many days off, and while it hadn’t been that grueling, he’d rarely had a moment to himself. But he didn’t mind being busy. The pay and treatment weren’t great for a low-level manager, but at least staying busy kept his mind off other things.
“If I told you not to go, would you stay?”
Whether it was his imagination or not, Yeojun had seemed unlike himself in that moment. Or perhaps he’d been more like himself than ever. He was always harsh and cold, but Euntae knew he was lonely deep down. Yeojun had a way of showing care in his own rough manner, though most people didn’t notice. Euntae didn’t mind that others missed it—it was better that way. Over the past five months, he’d come to believe he’d made it past a few of Yeojun’s defenses. If Yeojun had five layers of walls, Euntae felt like he’d breached the second. When he’d first met him, he’d thought Yeojun’s walls were made of diamond—impenetrable. Compared to that, this was progress. Of course, Euntae also knew he was part of the reason for that progress.
Had it started with curiosity? He’d never been interested in celebrities or people’s appearances, but he still remembered the first time he saw Yeojun. “Wow. Exactly my type.” That was as far as it went. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, and this wasn’t that. He’d been intrigued for a moment, but that was it. Then he’d found out Yeojun was a married man with a child, and that was that. He wasn’t reckless enough to develop feelings for someone like that.
But looking back now, it felt like magic. Like alchemy—turning lead into gold with the perfect ratio. He’d never developed feelings for Yeojun, but he enjoyed talking to him, working with him. Despite the nine-year age gap, they just clicked. He hadn’t thought that would turn into anything, but the possibility was there. And the more he got to know Yeojun, the more he saw his vulnerabilities—his cracks. That night, he’d felt like he’d crossed some kind of line. Everything up to that moment had flowed perfectly.
“Ah.”
Euntae, who had been walking away from the bus stop, suddenly stopped in front of a store, letting out a soft exclamation. He turned back, realizing this was where he’d meant to go. The past seven months had been so busy that he’d barely had time to think, but lately, whenever he had a free moment, his mind kept drifting to Yeojun. He had to admit—his biggest concern at 26, just a month shy of 27, was a 36-year-old, soon-to-be-divorced man.
“What brings you here at this hour?”
The door chimed as Euntae entered a pub. The woman behind the counter, who knew him well, greeted him warmly. It was his mother, Moran, and this was her pub.
“I finished work early for once. Thought I’d see if you needed any help.”
“We’ve got enough staff. What help do you think you can give?”
Moran smiled despite her words. Euntae, familiar with the place, hung up his coat inside and got to work as a customer called for service.
It wasn’t particularly busy for a Monday. As Moran had said, there were enough staff—two part-timers handling the floor, including Euntae’s cousin, Boyeon. She was slacking off a little, but with Euntae there to cover for her, it wasn’t a problem.
“Boyeon, don’t you think your work ethic is a little too lax?”
Euntae sat beside her. Boyeon’s spot was right in front of the kitchen—awkward for customers but convenient for staff. It had practically become her designated seat since she started working here, and now she was watching something on her tablet—probably a drama.
“You don’t need to worry, oppa. I’m doing my part.”
She didn’t even look at him. She was right—she did her work, even if she was family. She wasn’t the type to slack off completely. Today was just slow, and with Euntae there to help, she was taking a rare break. Plus, she’d recently fallen into her first crush—unfortunately, it was with someone she had a 0.001% chance of ever meeting: Baek Gyeonhui, Ocean Entertainment’s top actor.
“That good, huh?”
“Is that even a question?”
Boyeon’s crush was on Gyeonhui, who had recently come out as gay. His popularity had skyrocketed after his spring drama, Lifeline, and Boyeon had fallen for him through that show. The only problem? He’d just come out as being in a relationship with a wealthy chaebol heir. It wasn’t exactly something to laugh about, given how much trouble it was causing at the company.
“Your devotion is impressive, even in these times.”
“These times? You mean him dating a chaebol?”
The “chaebol” in question was Gyeonhui’s boyfriend, a man from the prestigious Daho Group. Fans called him that as a term of endearment—though only the ones who supported their relationship. Boyeon, a 22-year-old experiencing her first crush, was surprisingly open-minded and didn’t care who Gyeonhui dated. She kept her eyes on the screen, slinging an arm around Euntae’s shoulder.
“Oppa, our Gyeonhui oppa is special. He never dated anyone, and then—boom—he lands a chaebol. If you’re born as Baek Gyeonhui, you’ve gotta date a chaebol, right?”
“Sure, I guess.”
Euntae didn’t bother arguing with her If you’re born as Baek Gyeonhui logic. He also held back from saying, “That Gyeonhui oppa you love so much might not have dated, but he’s probably done plenty with plenty of people.”
“So what are you watching? Doesn’t look like Lifeline.”
“Oh, this? It’s an old Baek Gyeonhui comeback drama. He filmed it right after the military. Yeojun was the lead, and Gyeonhui was a supporting role. They say this is where the legend began, so I was curious.”
Euntae had sat beside her not just out of curiosity, but because he’d caught a glimpse of a familiar face on the screen—Yeojun. Sure enough, when he looked properly, it was Yeojun. He didn’t look much different from now, but there was a subtle youthfulness to him back then. It wasn’t that time had visibly aged him, but Euntae could tell the present Yeojun was slightly more mature. He didn’t know how many years had passed, but he preferred the current Yeojun. Then again, it was Yeojun either way, so the baseline was already high.
“What’s it called?”
“Extreme Injustice.”
“Huh?”
“Extreme Injustice.”
From the courtroom setting and Yeojun’s judge robes, it seemed to be a legal drama. The title was ironic. Maybe it was about punishing the wicked. Euntae didn’t know the plot, but he was interested simply because Yeojun was the lead. He realized that while he knew Yeojun was an actor, he’d never actually watched any of his work. He’d been too busy—or maybe he’d just been more interested in Park Euntae’s Yeojun than actor Yeojun.
“He’s so handsome, right?”
“Yeah. Really handsome.”
The screen showed a two-shot of Yeojun and Gyeonhui. Boyeon, of course, was talking about Gyeonhui, and Euntae, of course, was talking about Yeojun.
“Isn’t he so cool?”
“Yeah. Pretty cool.”
They were looking at the same screen, but their eyes were on different things. Just as they were getting absorbed in the drama, Euntae’s aunt—Boyeon’s mother, Yeoran—stormed out of the kitchen and smacked both of them on the back, scolding them for not working. There were tables to clear and new customers to seat. The other part-timer was struggling alone because of their laziness. Threatened with having her tablet confiscated and smashed, Boyeon sprang into action. Moran told Yeoran not to be too hard on them but didn’t actively stop her. Euntae quickly moved to clear a vacated table.
“This is a problem.”
As he wiped down the table, Euntae muttered to himself. His mind was filled with the image of Yeojun from the screen—dressed in a sharp suit, looking every bit the part of a stern, ascetic judge. From Euntae’s perspective, it was almost too sexy.
Thump, thump. Yeojun kept popping up in his mind, stabbing at his chest. At 26, having seen and done it all, he felt strangely vulnerable. He wasn’t a lovesick teen or a slow-witted fool, yet this man kept shaking him up.
That was it. He pretended to be calm, relaxed, and indifferent, but the truth was, he was shaken. Seo Yeojun kept growing on him.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
