Chapter 27: The Terms of the Arrangement

Sa-yoon had no idea why. Perhaps it was Han Do-hoon’s exceptional skill, just as he had boasted so confidently. Or perhaps, Sa-yoon’s own state had been different from his usual self.

Regardless of the reason, his body, which had awakened to new sensations last night, offered no resistance to Han Do-hoon’s touch. Sa-yoon gazed intently at Han Do-hoon’s face.

In stark contrast to Sa-yoon’s disheveled state, Han Do-hoon remained impeccably dressed. Sa-yoon’s hand slipped beneath his shirt, tracing the contours of his body, which burned even hotter than Sa-yoon’s flushed palm.

With a decisive tug, a button popped off with a soft *thud*, revealing an expanse of smooth, toned chest. Sa-yoon’s fingers brushed over skin a shade darker than his own, feeling the powerful thrum of veins beneath.

In the haze of the previous night, Sa-yoon hadn’t truly taken notice, but Han Do-hoon possessed a remarkably striking appearance. He was a man who seemed to lack for nothing, making his persistent devotion to Sa-yoon almost perplexing.

As Sa-yoon’s gaze drifted up to the sharp line of his jaw, a sudden impulse took hold.

“Let’s clearly define the terms between us,” Sa-yoon stated.

“Speak your mind,” Han Do-hoon replied.

“We’ll maintain a clean arrangement where we enjoy each other when desired, then part ways without lingering attachments,” Sa-yoon elaborated. “We’ll simply use each other, devoid of any unnecessary emotions. You’ll benefit by avoiding unwanted side effects, and I’ll occasionally find a pleasant distraction.”

What Sa-yoon desperately needed at this moment was a relationship where he could selectively take what he desired and then effortlessly distance himself. He sought someone for whom he held no responsibility, someone whose departure would hold no consequence.

Han Do-hoon was precisely that kind of partner.

At the unexpected proposition, Han Do-hoon’s eyes widened perceptibly. His dark pupils fixed on Sa-yoon, scrutinizing him as if to ascertain his true intentions. It was, admittedly, an abrupt shift in their dynamic.

Sa-yoon understood Han Do-hoon’s bewilderment. A playful smile touched Sa-yoon’s lips as he grasped Han Do-hoon by the collar.

“If you dislike it, then simply avoid me,” Sa-yoon challenged.

Without another word, he stretched out both arms and pressed his lips firmly against Han Do-hoon’s seemingly resolute mouth. After a brief moment of hesitation, Han Do-hoon descended, his hand gripping Sa-yoon’s jaw with a possessive strength.

Sa-yoon swallowed a small, nascent laugh and closed his eyes.

[Contract]

1. Party A and Party B shall respect each other’s privacy and refrain from interfering in personal matters.

2. Party A and Party B shall engage in sexual relations with mutual consent when desired.

3. Neither party shall ever harbor personal feelings for the other, and the contract shall terminate if either party no longer wishes to continue.

4. The contract shall be immediately nullified if the relationship between the two parties is discovered by others.

5. Neither party shall be held responsible for any incidents occurring during the course of their relations.

Sa-yoon covertly scrutinized the contract he had photographed. Naturally, Sa-yoon was designated as Party A and Han Do-hoon as Party B. Clause 5, however, had been Sa-yoon’s personal insertion.

Both of them possessed ample strength to protect themselves. Yet, Han Do-hoon had a persistent habit of asking if Sa-yoon was alright, if he was in pain, treating him as though he were fragile during their encounters. Sa-yoon, finding this utterly distasteful, had insisted on adding that particular clause.

‘This should suffice.’

His arrangement with Han Do-hoon proved to be more effective than Sa-yoon had anticipated. Many had witnessed the two of them entering headquarters side-by-side the evening after their unauthorized excursion.

While no one truly knew what transpired during their vanished hours, it was sufficient to subtly convey the impression that the two S-ranks were quite compatible. Perhaps owing to this, Sa-yoon had recently received a meticulously crafted letter from his family estate.

The contents, cloaked as cordial greetings, were precisely as Sa-yoon had expected. ‘Mind your conduct,’ it advised, ‘and remain vigilant to avoid drawing undue attention.’ The predictable letter, as always, carried a blend of veiled threats and subtly cajoling tones.

Additionally, it included a suggestion that his mother’s health had improved, proposing that he might consider taking her out for some fresh air soon. Given how meticulously Jin Jung-woo had concealed the second wife’s identity, this offer was tantamount to an overture of reconciliation.

This was undeniable proof that Han Do-hoon was a powerful card, capable of effectively countering Sa-yoon’s biological father. Furthermore, the secondary effects were even more significant.

Outwardly, Sa-yoon was aligned with Jin Jung-woo. If Sa-yoon, who was supposedly on Jin Jung-woo’s side, maintained a close relationship with Han Do-hoon, Jin Jung-woo’s position would undoubtedly become as precarious as a bat caught between two worlds.

He would now undoubtedly realize that holding Sa-yoon’s mother hostage was no longer a viable strategy.

“Team Leader, you seem to be in excellent spirits these days,” Chae-jun observed.

“Is that so?” Sa-yoon mused.

There was yet another unexpected benefit derived from his encounters with Han Do-hoon. Beyond his initial intention to subtly leverage Jin Jung-woo, this was an unforeseen bonus.

Their arrangement, surprisingly, was proving to be a significant aid in alleviating Sa-yoon’s stress.

Humans were, indeed, remarkably simple creatures. With his long-suppressed desires finally sated, Sa-yoon’s overall condition saw a steady improvement each day.

“Your work efficiency has certainly shot up, hasn’t it? Did something good happen?” Chae-jun inquired, his gaze subtly shifting to the stack of documents on Sa-yoon’s desk.

Normally, their team leader would procrastinate on paperwork from superiors, delaying it until the very last minute. Yet, this time, he had inexplicably completed everything within two days and even neatly covered the pile. It was an utterly unfamiliar sight.

“I simply felt inclined to do it,” Sa-yoon replied.

“That’s truly something,” Chae-jun remarked, a wide smile spreading across his face despite his lingering bewilderment. Sa-yoon’s expedited workflow directly translated to a lighter load for Chae-jun.

Observing Chae-jun’s evident delight, Sa-yoon offered a knowing smile. A palpable shift had certainly occurred recently.

“Whatever it is, I truly hope our team leader stays this way,” Chae-jun declared. “Just like this, always!”

Sa-yoon couldn’t possibly confess that his stress had dissipated from enthusiastically ‘getting it on’ with Han Do-hoon. Instead of voicing the truth, he simply uncapped his pen once more.

“Oh, you’re doing more work?” Chae-jun exclaimed, surprised.

“I just want to clear today’s incoming documents before I leave,” Sa-yoon explained. “I’ve requested next week off, you see.”

“Awesome!”

Chae-jun, clearly thrilled, promptly returned with a fresh stack of documents. The sheer volume conveyed a sense of fervent determination, as if he intended to tackle as much as possible while Sa-yoon remained in a motivated state.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Chae-jun added, “the package you mentioned has arrived.”

“Already?” Sa-yoon asked, surprised.

“Here you go.”

Upon taking the cardboard box, Sa-yoon discovered a gift box, meticulously double-wrapped, nestled within. It had been expected to take a month, yet it had arrived considerably earlier. This was an item Sa-yoon had commissioned from a renowned artisan immediately upon his return to duty.

“But what’s inside? A gift? It looks like our team leader might have someone special in his life,” Chae-jun probed.

“Impossible,” Sa-yoon countered, his fingers idly twisting the neatly tied ribbon as he gazed down at the box.

Inside lay a specially commissioned wig, lush and raven-black. He had prepared it with a silent prayer that it might offer his mother a small measure of comfort.

Such a gift was, heartbreakingly, all Sa-yoon could offer his mother. This stark realization instantly extinguished the pleasant mood he had felt just moments prior. Even a brief escape into enjoyment couldn’t alter Sa-yoon’s grim reality.

This wig, too, was nothing more than a temporary measure. It mirrored the very essence of Sa-yoon’s current predicament.

“…”

“What’s the matter, Team Leader?” Chae-jun asked softly.

“Nothing,” Sa-yoon replied.

The enthusiasm he had felt for work just moments ago had vanished as if it were a fleeting illusion. Sa-yoon capped his pen and set it down on his desk, his spirits suddenly heavy. He found himself biting and releasing his lip, a gesture of his troubled mind.

“I suppose I should call it a day for work,” Sa-yoon decided.

“Hmm…” Chae-jun hummed, yet despite the abrupt shift in Sa-yoon’s demeanor, he refrained from asking any questions. Instead, he simply gestured towards the cardboard box Sa-yoon held.

“If you’re planning to mail that package, I’m heading towards the post office anyway. Shall I take it for you?” Chae-jun offered.

“No, let’s go together,” Sa-yoon replied.

“I’d love that! It’ll be nice to take a walk with the team leader for a change.”

Sa-yoon rose, the paper bag dangling from his hand. He feared that if he remained seated alone with his current thoughts, he would only sink deeper into despondency. He hoped that a walk, with the fresh air and sunshine, might help dissipate his melancholic mood.

Chae-jun, who typically trailed behind Sa-yoon, this time walked several paces ahead. He faced straight ahead, making his way toward the post office without a single glance backward.

He offered not a single question about the package’s contents or its intended destination. Instead, he simply made small talk about the weather and recounted amusing anecdotes from the base, skillfully diverting the topic.

“Oh, that reminds me. Team Leader, have you seen Kang Ah-jun lately? He seems to be burdened with a lot of worries these days,” Chae-jun commented.

“He’s probably just lost in some useless rumination again,” Sa-yoon dismissed.

“I suppose so,” Chae-jun conceded. “He’s been sighing quite dramatically, which is so unlike him. But I didn’t bother asking, figuring it was probably just another trivial concern.”

Chae-jun and Kang Ah-jun had enlisted around the same time, making them peers. While they seemed to have genuinely bickered in the beginning, they had somehow evolved into a pair of amicable rivals. Though they verbally complained about each other’s perceived patheticness, they likely harbored the deepest concern for one another.

Observing their dynamic, Sa-yoon found himself both amused and a little wistful. He knew that no matter how much time passed, he would never find someone with whom he could open his heart and forge such a close bond.

This was precisely why he couldn’t even tell Chae-jun, who had been by his side for years, that the box contained a gift for his mother.

“Still, take good care of Ah-jun,” Sa-yoon urged. “He’s always so earnest in his worries.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Chae-jun groaned. “Last month, he was being serious again, so I asked him what was wrong. And do you know what he said? He finds it strange that a fly’s wings are so small compared to its body, yet it flies so well!”

Chae-jun stuck out his lower lip in utter exasperation.

“Honestly, not asking is the best policy with him.”

Sa-yoon found himself agreeing wholeheartedly with Chae-jun’s assessment. Kang Ah-jun was, indeed, a uniquely peculiar individual. He seemed to possess no thoughts at all, yet his mind was filled with the strangest notions. It was perhaps for this reason that he could remain by Sa-yoon’s side for so long.

While many followers revered Sa-yoon, few could truly endure his proximity for an extended period. Only those like Chae-jun, who maniacally adored him, or Kang Ah-jun, whose mind was a labyrinth of odd thoughts, could truly last by Sa-yoon’s side. Others, eventually worn down by Sa-yoon’s deliberate distance, invariably drifted away.