When he opened the balcony door, birdsong drifted in along with the distant sound of cars passing by. Haejun stood there blankly for a moment, then leaned his cheek against the window frame. His cheek squished up, pushing his lips out in a sulky pout.

“I kinda wanna stay a little longer.”

With no one around, he let out the wish he’d been keeping to himself.

It wasn’t like Lee Kangjoo was coldly kicking him out. He knew full well that wanting to stay longer was shameless. But when did a person’s heart ever listen to their head? He wanted to cling to Lee Kangjoo’s place just a bit more. It wasn’t only because the living conditions were good. Even the officetel Lee Kangjoo had arranged for him was a palace in Haejun’s eyes.

Still.

“What am I even thinking.”

He muttered and closed the balcony door. He’d already packed everything the night before. There hadn’t been much to bring in the first place, so leaving felt light too.

Before stepping out, Haejun fiddled with the thing in his hand. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he’d lost sleep over whether to leave this behind or not.

After pacing around the entryway for a few minutes, he pressed his lips tight, then plunked the item down in the empty space between the shoe cabinets and left the apartment.

After finishing his delivery jobs, he returned to his old place. The neighboring unit that had once been piled high with trash was now spotless. The low-class profanity scrawled across the front door had vanished without a trace.

He punched in the code and went inside. Whether a company had cleaned it up or not, there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. He tossed his bags down carelessly and collapsed onto the bed. The number of deliveries had been the same as usual, but his body felt heavy, drained.

“......”

He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open and raised his fist. He slammed it into the wall. The bang echoed louder than he expected. He hit it three more times.

Then he waited. For the bastard to come raging out again.

But even after a long while, the neighboring room stayed quiet. If that lunatic were still living there, he’d have sensed Haejun being alone and burst out immediately to cause a scene.

“So it’s real.”

Lee Kangjoo had kept his word. Along with the trash, the crazy bastard next door had been taken care of. Peace at last. Haejun laughed out loud and threw his arms up in victory.

“Ha.......”

The last laugh melted into a sigh. Suddenly, he missed Lee Kangjoo. Lately, the same strange symptoms kept cropping up. He’d pop into his head before sleep. Haejun would wonder what he was doing, whether he’d eaten—mundane things like that.

When he closed his eyes, that face hovered there. Even if he covered his ears, it felt like he could hear his name being called. While making deliveries, he found himself zoning out with his hands on the handlebars more often, and instead of using his phone like a gaming console, he just kept staring at the messages he’d exchanged with Lee Kangjoo.

He’d even felt a sting of disappointment when told to go back home. Clearly, his state was anything but normal.

It wasn’t that he liked him. Absolutely not. It was just that he was different from the clients he’d dealt with so far, and those occasional, unexpected reversals left an impression—that was all.

Haejun shook his head, trying to chase away the thoughts that kept looping one after another.

This lingering regret... right, it had to be because he didn’t want to lose a sponsor.

There was no need to worry. This wasn’t the end of their relationship. Only the location had changed. There was still hope. If Lee Kangjoo really meant to cut him off, he wouldn’t have bothered cleaning this place up.

So for now, it was fine. He slapped his cheeks a couple of times to pull himself together, then picked up his phone. He sent Lee Kangjoo a message thanking him, saying he’d gotten home safely. There was no read receipt, no reply, but Haejun stared at the unmoving screen for a long time, as if it were Lee Kangjoo himself.

* * *

When he came home after working out, the house was silent. A familiar quiet, once. Lee Kangjoo scanned the living room, then headed for the kitchen. The usual smell of food wasn’t there. The scent of things burning, turning stale, sometimes buttery—toast.

Yesterday afternoon, Cha Haejun had gone back to where he used to live. Meaning there was no longer anyone chattering away as they set food in front of him. He should’ve felt relieved, but from the moment he got home until now, there was something irritating him—like a hangnail he couldn’t quite grab hold of.

He opened the cupboard. He’d assumed Haejun would’ve taken it, but the sliced bread was still sitting there exactly as it had been. He’d praised it like it was the best thing on earth, but apparently not enough to bother packing it.

Outside the office window, a new bakery had opened. Judging by the long lines from morning, it seemed to be a popular spot. By afternoon, they’d slap up a SOLD OUT sign. Wondering what the fuss was about, and thinking of someone who especially liked bread, he must’ve ended up staring at it longer than he realized.

“A bakery, huh. Is it a franchise?”

Yang Seokho muttered after glancing over. Seeing Lee Kangjoo’s interest, he looked it up and rattled off details. They were famous for their bread, especially the sliced bread, and often sold out before the afternoon.

“Go buy some.”

“Pardon? It looks like it’s already sold out.”

“Offer them more money.”

“How about getting it tomorrow morning?”

“Too much backtalk. Are you bored?”

By tomorrow, Cha Haejun would be back at his old place. Giving it to him then wouldn’t be too late, but it felt like it’d be more of a hassle. He wanted to give it to him while he was still right there.

The bastard who’d lived next door, spewing abuse while eyeing Cha Haejun, had been kindly dealt with by Lee Kangjoo. He was now enslaved on some nameless island. Since he was a loner with no one to file a missing persons report, it had been easy.

“I’ll go right away.”

Threatened with more work, Yang Seokho folded at the waist and hurried out of the office. After hovering around the bakery for a while, he soon called Lee Kangjoo.

“They say no.”

“Why.”

“They won’t give special treatment to a single customer.”

The stubborn owner was persuaded with money. Only when offered ten times the original price did he finally give in. Since it took time to make, the bread wouldn’t be ready until late afternoon.

“Do you like bread, sir?”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“It’s a gift.”

“A gift?”

Apparently shocked that Lee Kangjoo would give anyone a gift, Yang Seokho’s eyes stretched wide as he shouted.

“Sir, do you happen to be seeing someone these days?”

“Seeing someone?”

“Well, you said it was a gift.”

Lee Kangjoo looked down at the bread in silence. Seeing someone—nothing that grand. He’d just remembered Cha Haejun muttering that it was his last loaf of bread. That was all.

“It’s closer to a new hobby.”

Yang Seokho tilted his head, his bulky frame not matching the gesture. He clearly didn’t understand, but there was no need to explain.

As expected, Cha Haejun had looked like he owned the world over a single loaf of bread. His cheeks flushed rosy, his eyes shining like a kid tasting cotton candy for the first time.

Pulling himself out of the memory, Lee Kangjoo took his cup and sat at the dining table. As he unfolded the newspaper, the space under the cup looked oddly empty. Like something that should’ve been there was missing.

Turning his head, he spotted a lone coaster sitting crookedly at the corner of the counter. He brought it over and set his cup on it—right in the center, unlike how Cha Haejun had done it. Still, it didn’t feel right.

Wondering what exactly was bothering him so much, he stared at the cup as steam clouded up, then picked it up and shifted it to the very edge of the coaster. Placing it precariously there, he finally felt like he’d found a missing puzzle piece.

Just as he was about to head out, the item occupying the empty space in the shoe cabinet caught his eye again, like it had the night before. A palm-sized frame.

He tried to ignore it and pass by, but as if drawn by something, he picked it up. It was a photo Cha Haejun had taken on a day they’d gone drinking together. Cha Haejun had popped his head right up to the lens like a stray animal, while Lee Kangjoo sat on a bench in the background.

He didn’t like being photographed. It could become evidence, a weakness—he’d always disliked it for that reason. But that day, for some reason, he’d allowed it. He could’ve just said no. It would’ve been easy. Yet that simple refusal never made it past his tongue.

The reason wasn’t clear. Maybe because Cha Haejun had looked at him so earnestly. Or because watching him act cute, face flushed from alcohol as he raised a finger, had been amusing.

Throwing it away felt wrong, but keeping it didn’t sit right either. Since it was Cha Haejun’s, returning it would be best. With a neutral expression, Lee Kangjoo set the frame back down.

* * *

Maybe this was for the best. Out of sight, out of mind.

Lee Kangjoo having taken root in his heart was something Haejun would deny even if he fell flat on his face. After spending that long in the same house, waking up to Lee Kangjoo’s face and seeing it again before sleeping, it was only natural that it’d burned itself into his brain.

What he ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) needed right now was his original resolve. He had to return to the mindset he’d had when he first stepped into the world of swallows. The determination to seduce rich madams, to be cherished like a pet dog, a pet cat, and receive affection—and big money—in return.