Tang, tang, tang—
The sharp rhythm of a knife tapping against the cutting board rang clearly through the kitchen. But Baek Seo-ha’s face didn’t match the lively sound. His brows were knit tightly, and his lips were drawn into a firm line—his expression grave.
Still, his hands moved without pause. When the pot of rice-wash water mixed with soybean paste began to bubble on the stove, he added the sliced zucchini and other prepped ingredients, then stirred gently with a spoon. As the stew began to look properly simmered, he covered it with a lid and set about tidying the cutting board and knife.
The table was nearly ready—just the rice and soup left to serve. Seo-ha walked over to a small decorative stand, picked up the ring that hung from it, and slipped it onto his finger. The motion of sliding the band onto his left ring finger was fluid, as if second nature.
It was the wedding ring he’d received from Han Ju-oh along with his proposal. Unless there was a reason not to, he wore it every day. The awkwardness of the early days had faded long ago; now, not wearing it felt strangely empty.
“If I just serve the rice now…”
As he murmured under his breath, still adjusting the ring, Han Ju-oh appeared—towel draped around his neck. Seo-ha, eyes trailing after Ju-oh’s hand as he casually wiped the water from his chin, found himself momentarily entranced by his damp face before snapping out of it and taking a seat, his expression tightening.
Unlike their usual warm morning greetings, Seo-ha said nothing. Picking up on the tension, Ju-oh stopped drying his hair halfway, quietly served the rice, and brought over the soybean stew.
There was no rigid system for breakfast. Whoever woke up first usually cooked, and the other did the dishes. Even that wasn’t a hard rule—they often did everything together. On normal days, they exchanged glances constantly, eyes meeting in easy, affectionate rhythm.
But not today.
Three months into marriage, it was an ordinary morning—and yet not.
They were together, as always. But the atmosphere had shifted. These were two people who normally smiled just by looking at each other—now eating silently with their heads bowed.
When they were dating, it felt like they knew everything about one another. But after getting married, it wasn’t as though they didn’t get along. That wasn’t it.
This was just… a minor disagreement that had somehow blown out of proportion.
“Have you thought about it?”
Someone always breaks the silence first. This time, it was Seo-ha. As he posed the question, Ju-oh—mid-bite into a rolled omelet—shifted his gaze to the bubbling stew instead.
“I still say mountains.”
He didn’t even look at Seo-ha when he answered. His voice was soft, drained of conviction, as if he were speaking to the stew.
“Oh, come on.”
Clearly fed up, Seo-ha dropped his chopsticks with a sharp clatter.
“I told you—I want to go to the beach. The beach.”
“I prefer the mountains.”
“We’ve gone to the mountains plenty. That’s why I said, just this once, let’s go to the beach.”
The reason for the strange air between them? It all stemmed from the argument they’d had the night before.
They’d been discussing vacation plans for days. At first, Ju-oh had said he didn’t care where they went. But just last night, when everything was planned and all they had to do was head out—he suddenly insisted he didn’t want to go to the beach.
Seo-ha looked at him like he couldn’t understand what he was hearing. If he didn’t want to go, he should’ve said so from the start. The accommodations were already booked, and canceling now would mean paying fees. They’d even bought a bunch of supplies specifically for a beach trip. The loss wouldn’t be minor.
Seo-ha took a breath, trying to keep his cool and reason with him. According to the original plan, they were supposed to leave right after breakfast. If he couldn’t get an answer here and now, the vacation would fall apart.
“Most dungeons are up in the mountains anyway. And we’re always running until we’re out of breath. That’s exactly why, just this once, I wanted us to take it easy—walk along the beach, breathe.”
Despite Seo-ha’s earnest reasoning, Ju-oh gave a small shake of his head. Subtle as it was, a no was still a no.
“Let’s go to the mountains.”
“Ju-oh… When I first said beach, you were totally on board.”
“I’ve come to like the mountains more.”
“Hah… unbelievable.”
Seo-ha stared at him, utterly baffled by this overnight transformation into a stubborn mule.
Even under Seo-ha’s openly frustrated gaze—Are you seriously doing this right now?—Ju-oh calmly finished his meal, as if none of this was happening. He even placed the last piece of omelet on top of Seo-ha’s rice before setting his chopsticks down.
‘What, is that supposed to make everything okay just because you’re not being selfish with food?’
Seo-ha crossed his arms, abandoning his half-eaten bowl. The mood was turning combative. Ju-oh reached for a glass of water—then silently lowered his hand back beneath the table.
“Han Ju-oh, all you’re doing is saying no. So are you going to take full responsibility? Pay the penalty fees and come up with a new plan yourself?”
Seo-ha had always been the one to plan their trips. Ju-oh had never minded just going along. But if he was going to suddenly be difficult, then fine—he could handle it.
“How much? I’ll cover everything.”
Ju-oh pulled out his phone, looking fully ready to transfer the money on the spot.
“You’re going to pay and make the new plan? You do realize we’re supposed to leave today, right?”
Seo-ha had expected that if he pushed a little, Ju-oh would back down. But instead, Ju-oh readily offered to handle it all himself. That strange willingness sparked suspicion in Seo-ha’s eyes.
‘What the hell is going on with him?’
Dding-dding—
Somewhere in the apartment, Seo-ha’s phone chimed. Probably a bank notification. Ju-oh must have already sent the money—despite not even knowing how much the reservation cost.
“Your food’s getting cold. Come eat.”
Han Ju-oh came back from the sink, having placed his empty bowl there, looking like he genuinely believed the issue was settled. But Seo-ha, lower lip jutting out in a pout, hadn’t been asking for reimbursement—he just wanted to go to the beach together. Cold rice didn’t matter nearly as much as his carefully planned vacation falling apart.
“I’m not eating.”
As if food was the problem. When Seo-ha flatly refused, Ju-oh dragged a chair over and sat beside him. Seo-ha glanced at him warily—only to watch as Ju-oh picked up his chopsticks, grabbed the slice of rolled omelet he’d placed on Seo-ha’s rice, and gently brought it to his lips.
“I said I’m not eating.”
“Mountains or beach—whatever. Just eat first.”
He wasn’t exactly forcing him, but the gentle coaxing—eat first, talk later—chipped away at Seo-ha’s resistance. Knowing stubbornness would only cost him more, he opened his mouth and slowly chewed, all the while pondering Ju-oh’s odd behavior.
Once Ju-oh dug in, he could be absurdly unreasonable. Blunt, immovable. But he was never like that without a reason. There had to be something behind this.
Still chewing, arms folded, Seo-ha kept accepting each bite Ju-oh offered—until, all at once, his lashes fluttered. He remembered what he’d been doing the moment Ju-oh’s attitude changed the night before.
‘If I’m right about this…’
Ju-oh watched the way Seo-ha’s cheeks moved as he chewed and how his lashes flickered with thought. Then he gently pushed the rice bowl away with the back of his hand. But instead of more food, he leaned in—not with chopsticks, but with his lips. Smooch.
The kiss was quick and soft—and caught Seo-ha completely off guard. He froze, then pulled back in alarm, wide-eyed, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
“What the hell—why are you kissing me mid-bite?”
Panicked, Seo-ha shoved at Ju-oh’s chest, pulling his head back.
“Because you’re cute when you eat.”
Ju-oh brushed aside the resistance like it was nothing and leaned in again. When it became obvious that he was going for another kiss, Seo-ha flailed both arms to block him in a wild panic.
“You psycho—I haven’t even swallowed yet!”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine?! You won’t go to the beach, and now this?!”
Sure, they had their moments when even a glance could spark tension, but this was ridiculous. The air reeked of soybean paste stew, and Seo-ha hadn’t even showered properly this morning.
“Stop it! Han Ju-oh, I only brushed my teeth!”
“Then I’ll check for myself.”
Ju-oh closed his eyes and leaned in, breathing in Seo-ha’s scent. His head, his neck—he pressed his face so deep into the curve of Seo-ha’s nape that the fine hairs on Seo-ha’s skin stood up.
After thoroughly taking in the scent, Ju-oh leaned in again.
“You just smell like Baek Seo-ha.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean… Are you doing all this just to get out of going to the beach?”
Seo-ha tried to call him out, but Ju-oh didn’t even respond. Worse, as Seo-ha continued resisting the kiss, Ju-oh suddenly swept him up and carried him into the living room.
Seo-ha, dropped onto the couch they’d received from Director Kim Beom-hak’s office, waited for a chance to squirm free. But of course, Ju-oh was one step ahead. He slid between Seo-ha’s legs, locking his hips in place.
“You and those stupid thighs—”
When Ju-oh flexed his legs, Seo-ha yelped. Those were monster-slaying thighs—there was no way Seo-ha could escape.
“If what you want is to get wet at the beach, I can make that happen.”
“What the hell—are you seriously saying that right now?!”
Whatever Ju-oh meant, it clearly had nothing to do with seawater. Seo-ha squirmed in a panic, only to lose strength and go limp.
“Good boy.”
Ju-oh gently stroked his cheek, now calm, and slid a hand under his shirt. His fingers traced along the firm lines of muscle. The slow, self-assured way he touched him was nothing like the hesitant man from earlier, the one quietly gauging his mood post-shower.
Seo-ha had been ready to push him away, to snap—but then sunlight hit Ju-oh’s face, and he couldn’t look away. He’d always known the guy was stupidly handsome, but the way the light highlighted every curve and edge made him look otherworldly.
The straight, elegant brows. That sleek, defined nose. But more than anything—those eyes. Eyes that could lure someone in and leave them defenseless. And just like that, Seo-ha forgot all about pushing him away.
