Chapter 23: Say It, If You Dare

“You’re one to talk.

If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

His tone, twisted with irritation, pushed Han-geon to answer.

Han-geon lifted the face he’d been keeping lowered to hide his emotions and shook his head bluntly.

“…No.

Nothing like that.”

“…”

“If you’re done talking, let’s just go back inside.

They’ll come looking for you.”

How could he say it?

That he’d seen him standing with Juwon.

That it had made his heart twist painfully.

That for a moment he’d felt so sick it was like the first time he’d ridden an amusement ride with him as a kid—dizzying, nauseating, overwhelming.

“That’s not what matters.”

Eun-gyeol let out a deep breath.

Thankfully, his voice sounded calmer now.

“How is the dinner?

Is it bearable?”

“Yeah.

Everyone’s really nice.”

At that, Eun-gyeol’s eyes curved beautifully.

His expression said “you’ve got to be kidding me,” but the faint smile tugging at his lips had softened completely.

“You say that everywhere.

Such a pushover.”

“What?

It’s better to get along with everyone.”

“No jerks trying to give you a hard time since it’s your first day?”

Han-geon let out a small laugh.

Once he started laughing, the stiff mask on his face naturally eased.

That was always how it was with Eun-gyeol.

Even if they bickered like children, it never lasted long.

“And what if there are?”

“Well.

What should I do about it?”

With a lazy smile, Eun-gyeol’s hand came up to Han-geon’s forehead.

He casually wiped away the thin layer of sweat there, completely unfazed.

“Should I beat them up?

Or make sure they never show up to work again?”

“There it is.

Where do you even learn to talk like that?”

Unbelievable.

Just moments ago he’d been tossing Han-geon’s heart around however he wanted, and now he was saying things purely to cheer him up—acting extra naughty on purpose.

He never cared about what other people thought, but he somehow made Han-geon feel like he acted this way only toward him.

Or maybe Eun-gyeol simply kept making him think that, so Han-geon ended up giving in with a helpless smile every time—whether it was truly only for him or not.

“I just want to go home with you.

I’m tired.”

His voice was lazy, but unlike the heavy summer night air, it sounded strangely cool and refreshing.

“I want to sleep at your place.

It’s been a while.”

“What?

Why my place?

Sleep at your palace-like house.”

“Can’t I?”

It was such a trivial rejection, yet he somehow felt bad immediately.

When Eun-gyeol raised one eyebrow, Han-geon shot him an annoyed look that wasn’t really annoyed at all.

“The bed’s small.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You say it hurts your whole body when you sleep on the floor.”

“Han-geon.”

His tone suddenly cooled as he called his name.

“I want to sleep with you.”

“…”

“You don’t want to, huh?”

It was always like this.

Eun-gyeol said things like that so easily—without sparing a thought for the heart he was slamming into the floor.

And yet Han-geon, who couldn’t bring himself to refuse him, was the one completely hopeless.

He swallowed hard and jerked his head away.

If he kept meeting those persistent eyes, Eun-gyeol would notice the heat flaring around them.

“…Fine.

Then… just for tonight.”

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to come over every day and annoy you.”

Eun-gyeol said in a playful tone, stretching an arm toward him.

Even as he grumbled at the clingy gesture, Han-geon still couldn’t push him away.

On their way back toward the restaurant entrance, Eun-gyeol never once took his arm off Han-geon’s shoulders.

He hadn’t come down to his hometown in a long while.

Wiping the sweat that had gathered thickly on his forehead with his sleeve, Han-geon sped up.

Even though he had transferred buses immediately from the intercity terminal and walked barely five minutes, sweat poured down like rain.

Though it was already past six in the evening, the sun was so hot it burned the top of his head.

Chuseok was still far off, but every year around this time, Han-geon came home alone.

No matter how busy he was, the routine never changed.

He always visited his parents first, ate the meal his mother prepared, and then naturally headed next door.

The house right beside his parents’, close enough that loud voices once carried clearly through the walls, still held Eun-gyeol’s father.

But in that home where only he lived now, the noises of the past were long gone.

Today was Eun-gyeol’s mother’s death anniversary.

That was why Han-geon visited the man who lived alone every year.

It wasn’t to honor a woman he had barely seen a handful of times in his life.

It was because he couldn’t forget how lonely Eun-gyeol’s father had looked in the past—sitting alone with chrysanthemums placed inside the house.

He didn’t make plans beforehand.

After spending time with his own parents and sharing a meal, he simply slipped next door as if by chance.

Yet every time he opened the door, Eun-gyeol’s father welcomed him with warm appreciation—thanking him for coming, telling him that because of him, he didn’t feel lonely this year either.

He had once gently suggested to Eun-gyeol that they go together.

It hadn’t worked—not even a little.

So he stopped suggesting.

Occasionally, the three of them ate together on other days, but when it came to his mother’s death anniversary, Eun-gyeol never acknowledged it.

Han-geon understood.

He knew all too well what Eun-gyeol had endured under his mother.

He still remembered those nights when the noise from next door rang out without fail, and he prayed desperately for Eun-gyeol’s safety—so much so that he couldn’t sleep himself.

She had been extremely unstable—quick to grab a knife.

Eun-gyeol once confessed to him as a child: whenever he saw a knife, his mind went blank, his whole body shook, and it became hard to breathe.

The fear and terror that a young child felt in front of a raging adult swinging a blade must have been no different from hearing bombs fall in a war zone.

He always seemed more relaxed when his mother wasn’t home, and when she was, he was consumed by anxiety.

He spent the whole day on edge and clung desperately to Han-geon in the evenings.

‘Han-geon… I’m scared.

I don’t want to go home…’

A few years after they’d moved into the neighborhood, she died from an illness.

Her alcohol addiction had kept her hospitalized for long periods, and even Han-geon rarely saw her face.

But one thing would never fade.

Forever etched like a tattoo on Han-geon’s heart was the face of Eun-gyeol clinging to him, crying.

“…I wonder if he’s home.”

Han-geon pressed the doorbell.

It wasn’t planned, so the house might be empty, but almost every year the timing matched.

As expected, shortly after the familiar melody played, the door opened.

“Welcome!

Long time no see, Han-geon!”

“Yes, it’s been a while, Uncle.”

Eun-gyeol’s father greeted him warmly.

He was dressed in black.

As he stepped inside and took off his shoes, Han-geon’s gaze briefly drifted to the bouquet of chrysanthemums set inside the living room, then returned to him.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

“Yes, I just ate with my parents.”

“Good, good.

I’m supposed to have drinks later tonight with your father.”

He laughed playfully and mimed knocking back a shot.

Their fathers had always been close—especially when it came to drinking.

“You’ll have a drink with us before you go, right?”

“Ah, sorry… I have to head back soon.”

“Really?

That’s a shame.”

His father looked genuinely disappointed.

“Um… Uncle, you heard, right?

From Eun-gyeol?”

“Heard what?”

Seeing the man’s completely clueless face, Han-geon sighed internally.

So the brat hadn’t called yet.

“I became Eun-gyeol’s manager.

And his bodyguard.”

“…You did?”

He widened his eyes, genuinely shocked.

He looked at Han-geon for a long moment before speaking—and what he said was something else entirely.

“…Aren’t you going to have a rough time with him?”

It was the opposite of what he expected.

When Han-geon told his own mother earlier, she had simply been delighted.

But Eun-gyeol’s father let out a dry chuckle and added:

“That kid… how should I put it.

He’s always had a bit of… obsession with you.”

“Ah…”

“You remember, right?

Back then, whenever you hung out with other friends, he’d come home sulking—scowling the whole time.

Wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t eat, just lock himself in his room.

Then after you came over and soothed him for a long while, he’d finally cheer up.”

“Yeah… that happened.”

The two of them exchanged small smiles.

The image of young Eun-gyeol—pale-faced and unusually beautiful—floated vividly in their minds.