He’d ended up biting the CEO instead of some rich madam, but either way, he’d work his ass off servicing Lee Kangjoo, make money, pay off his debts, and claw his way toward the light.

A cold shower snapped him back to his senses. He opened the door to head out for work—and froze. The space in front of the neighboring unit, which had been empty, was now piled high with luggage. For a split second, he thought the lunatic had come back. Haejun tensed, gripping his own door handle, ready to bolt inside if the guy charged at him with a knife. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

The neighbor’s front door was wide open. There was loud clattering inside, like someone moving around.

Should he get out of here fast? It felt like the bastard might come after him for revenge. Just as his thoughts were about to spill out of his head, a man stepped outside. He bent down, probably to grab some luggage—and Haejun’s mouth fell open.

“Huh?”

“Hm?”

The man startled at the sound and straightened up. Dressed in a casual sweatshirt and jeans, Haejun hadn’t recognized him right away. The face felt familiar, so the sound had slipped out on its own—but the other guy clearly recognized Haejun.

“Oh my god, hyung!”

Haejun blinked rapidly, frantically flipping through the mental card catalog of faces and names. He’d seen this face before, but where? What was his name? Only when the man brushed his bangs back, revealing a smooth forehead, did it click.

“Oh!”

Even then, neither his real name nor his stage name came to mind. Everything was a blur. All he knew was that the guy had been an ace at a host bar he’d worked at before.

“Wow, I can’t believe I’m running into you here, hyung.”

The ace beamed and strode over, pulling Haejun into a tight hug. He squeezed hard enough to knock the breath out of him, then pulled back to look at his face. He was way too happy to see him. Haejun just felt awkward. He couldn’t remember being close enough for casual hugs like this.

Back then, he’d been obsessed with figuring out how to get chosen and how to pay off his debts. He hadn’t given a shit about anyone else. This ace had probably been outside the range of people he paid attention to.

“Sorry, but what was your name again?”

“Eunjae. No Eunjae. I told you my real name last time—guess you forgot.”

“Oh. Right, Eunjae. Nice to see you. You moved in here?”

“Yes. Hyung, it’s really good to see you. I seriously never expected this.”

No Eunjae grabbed Haejun’s hand and shook it up and down enthusiastically. His wide grin looked like he’d just found someone he’d been missing forever. Haejun pried his tingling hand free and checked his phone. Calls were starting to come in—among them, messages from a boss who liked him well enough.

“Yeah. Let’s catch up some other time. I’ve gotta go to work.”

“What do you do now, hyung? Are you working at another bar?”

“No, delivery. I’m running late, so I’ll head out.”

He turned away in a hurry. Even in his vague memories, No Eunjae had been especially chatty. If he got caught, it’d never end.

As Haejun sped off like he was fleeing, No Eunjae chased after him. He wanted to ignore him, but of all ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) times, the elevator was parked on B3. It’d take a while to come back up.

“Hyung, I quit the bar.”

“That place? Lucid?”

“Yes. I have to go back to school.”

No Eunjae scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. The reminder that he was a college student made Haejun look him up and down. No wonder he’d seemed so young even in a suit.

The elevator finally arrived. Haejun jumped inside. Maybe because Eunjae had worked to pay tuition, his guard dropped a little. A looser smile crossed his face as he looked back.

“That’s good. Let’s grab a drink sometime.”

“Yes, sir! Take care!”

No Eunjae snapped a playful salute. Before his hand could come down, the elevator doors slid shut.

His reflection stared back at him from the glossy doors. Haejun was still smiling—then a thought hit him, and the corners of his mouth stiffened.

When the noise-sensitive lunatic lived next door, fine. But now someone he knew had moved in. Which meant he’d have to hold back sounds again when he slept with Lee Kangjoo.

It was something he’d always done, but lately it’d been harder. When Lee Kangjoo pressed him, when he kissed him like that one time, Haejun melted into a mess, leaking snorts, voices, ugly sounds—everything—without realizing it. Enough to make him hate himself.

“Fuck.”

Should he avoid even kissing?

Clutching his head with both hands, Haejun squatted down on the spot. Seriously—nothing in life was ever easy.

* * *

Snow one day, then suddenly mild weather—and now rain all day long. There was no thunder or lightning, just quiet, heavy rain. The entire city was dyed a dreary gray, and whenever he stopped at a red light, raindrops collected on his helmet, blurring his vision.

Yohan had told him not to forget the water-repellent coating, but the visor¹ was plastic, so no amount of spray helped. He ended up wearing a rain poncho.

This was his last delivery of the day. Stepping into the shop, Haejun lifted his head and flared his nostrils, sniffing. The spicy scent of jjamppong, the sweet smell of jjajangmyeon, and the clean, nutty aroma of oil filled the air.

He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth and counted the bags on the counter. Four large plastic bags in total.

“Wow, that’s a lot today.”

“Must be the rain. Lots of orders.”

It was a shop owner he’d gotten friendly with after several deliveries. The food was good and the kitchen clean, so he’d often come here with Yohan.

“Can I come back later for dinner?”

“I’m closing early today. Come tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

The old man tapped his forearms, probably sore from all the wok work. Fatigue lined his face. Haejun kneaded his shoulders for a moment, making him relax—then the man barked at him to hurry up before the food got cold. Haejun snickered, grabbing the bags with both hands.

The destination was an old, corridor-style apartment building. Wanting to clock out already, Haejun hurried. He got off the elevator, checked the unit number, and stood in front of the door. It’d have been easier to leave the food outside, but this customer insisted on paying in person.

He rang the doorbell. Inside, there was chatter and sudden loud laughter, but no response to the bell. He rang again. Heavy footsteps thudded toward the door. Haejun quickly took a step back.

—Who is it.

“Delivery.”

Silence, like someone was checking his face through the intercom. Then the door opened. The man was wearing a tight short-sleeved tee despite the winter. His exposed arms were packed with red and blue irezumi tattoos.

The man snatched the food out of Haejun’s hands and turned away, not caring that Haejun was frozen in place. Haejun flinched back to his senses.

“......The money! You haven’t paid yet.”

He could eat the delivery fee himself, but he had to collect the food cost. Trusting the helmet to hide his identity, he clenched his fist. But maybe he didn’t like being corrected—because the thug’s face twisted viciously.

“Hey, asshole. Can’t you tell by looking? Drop it and fuck off.”

The man threatened to hit Haejun, then spat phlegm. The thick spit splattered onto Haejun’s rain-soaked pant leg.

Annoyed, Haejun frowned. But he couldn’t back down here. If it were a single dish, he’d grit his teeth and leave—but the weight meant the bill was significant.

If it came to it, he’d squeeze some hush money out of them. Even if he got hit once, the helmet should at least prevent serious injury. Believing that, he shouted,

“Give me the money, then I’ll go......!”

“You little shit!”

The thug finally raised his fist. Haejun squeezed his eyes shut and hunched his shoulders. The commotion at the door drew the attention of the people inside.

“Stop.”

At that voice, the thug froze mid-swing. As Haejun staggered back, a man who’d been sitting in the living room stood up, bracing a hand on his knee. He ambled toward Haejun.

The moment he saw the man’s face, Haejun went rigid.

Shit.

He hadn’t seen him earlier, hidden among the others. Choi Manseok—the worst human being he’d ever met.

And it wasn’t just him. Seeing several people gathered in the living room dragged up old memories.

A day when rain poured down. Laughter filling a cramped room. The sound of a box cutter sliding open.

A sharp phantom pain stabbed through the inside of his thighs.

He wanted to run. Cold sweat broke out. He’d scoffed at threats before, even laughed while talking about knife-wielding lunatics—but in front of Choi Manseok, his body locked up. Before, he’d at least run his mouth to pretend he wasn’t scared. Now, he didn’t have that kind of leeway.

Choi Manseok grinned and slammed the back of the thug’s head down hard. Forced to apologize, the thug choked out noises until he was kicked in the shin and dropped to his knees.

“Sorry. This guy’s got no manners. Try to understand.”

“.......”

“How much?”

Haejun hurriedly checked the receipt taped to the bag. At Choi Manseok’s gesture, someone quickly brought a wallet. It was so thick it looked ready to burst, the inside a field of bright yellow bills.

“Is this enough, including the delivery fee?”

He counted roughly and held it out. Haejun reached to take it—but Choi Manseok lifted his hand, leaving him grasping air.

“Before that. I’m a bit paranoid. Let me see your face.”

“.......”

“Take off the helmet.”

[Footnote]

1) A protective cover attached to a motorcycle helmet that blocks sunlight, wind, insects, etc.