BO - 1

01. Seo Jae-yeon

The drinking session had lasted for over two hours.

How did things end up like this? No matter how I looked at it, this was a gathering of people who didn’t belong together.

There was Kim Jong-seop, known even among the members of the Munseong crime syndicate as having the worst temper, and Cha Geon-ju, who, if insanity could take human form, would have been born in that very shell. Then there was Choi Si-baek, who had recently been getting on my nerves in subtle ways. And me—stuck among them like a jagged rock. No, to be more precise, I was the only one in this picture who truly didn’t belong.

At first, I had been drinking alone—not really alone—but then Kim Jong-seop, who had come saying he had business with Choi Si-baek, sat down at our table. Then, out of nowhere, Cha Geon-ju was called over, and before I knew it, an unplanned drinking party had begun. On top of that, these men had brought along their usual lackeys like keychains dangling from their belts.

I had wanted to leave early, but the number of people had multiplied so quickly that it went far beyond what I could handle. I was stuck, unable to move.

In an instant, the once-quiet bar had been overrun by gangsters.

Being ill-mannered men, the drinking session was rowdy. Even though they knew I was there, they freely threw around expletives, and more than half of the conversation was crude jokes. But really, what did I expect? Just because a woman was in their midst didn’t mean they would suddenly develop manners.

To them, I was either someone they could say anything in front of, or someone they assumed had already seen everything this world had to offer. It was probably both. And honestly, they weren’t wrong. Crude talk like this didn’t faze me anymore. Not because I had lived a particularly wild life, but because I had grown up in an environment where this was the norm.

Kim Jong-seop stepped away for a while to call his wife, saying he was going to have phone sex. Meanwhile, Cha Geon-ju generously poured soju for his underling, grinning slyly as he encouraged him to speak freely.

But the real issue was sitting across from me—Choi Si-baek.

For some reason, he hadn’t touched a single bite of food. Instead, he had spent the entire time twirling his chopsticks between his fingers like a pen.

I had missed my chance to leave, and now an opportunity wasn’t presenting itself. If I stood up now, my self-appointed bodyguard, Choi Si-baek, would automatically follow. And then, without a doubt, the lunatics sitting beside him wouldn’t just let me go. I didn’t want to deal with that mess.

The fishcake soup I liked so much had already boiled down to nothing, leaving the fishcakes bloated and soggy. In the end, I was the reason this gathering had started in the first place—I had chosen this bar because they had my favorite dish. But the others weren’t here for the food. They were busy drowning themselves in alcohol.

This small neighborhood bar and these men dressed in black suits—members of a crime syndicate—were an odd combination, but no one seemed to care.

Choi Si-baek, resting his chin on one hand, simply watched as I picked up my soju glass, lifted it, then set it down, over and over. His usual dry indifference was something I had gotten used to, but it still managed to irk me. I knew he was bored, but his unreadable gaze made me drink for no reason other than to distract myself.

“Look at these assholes, drinking everything up while I was busy jerking off. How many times do I have to tell you? Alcohol is meant to be shared.”

After a long absence, Kim Jong-seop finally returned. Judging by the heat radiating off him, it seemed he had indeed jerked off while having phone sex.

But Choi Si-baek? He simply tapped the cigarette pack on the table with the tips of his long fingers, along with the lighter beside it.

Kim Jong-seop casually slung an arm around Si-baek’s shoulder, grinning as if he had just remembered something.

“Si-baek, want me to introduce you to a pretty girl? She’s totally into you—absolutely obsessed. Crazy chick. But hey, at least she has taste. Not that it matters—when you show up with this face, what woman wouldn’t fall for you? Life must be ridiculously easy for you.”

As expected, not a single filter on that mouth of his. But no one here was the type to bat an eye at such vulgarity. Including me. I merely observed his brazen words with a calm expression.

“And how exactly does she know she has a pretty pussy?”

“She said so herself. Maybe she’s just running her mouth. But knowing her, she totally would.”

The initial comment was aimed at Choi Si-baek, but midway, Cha Geon-ju cut in, questioning it with mild curiosity. Kim Jong-seop, unfazed, responded without hesitation.

I had been mindlessly poking at the bloated fishcakes with my fork, but my gaze naturally shifted toward the man sitting across from me.

“Get your hand off.”

Choi Si-baek brushed off the hand on his shoulder with a single motion. He still looked completely uninterested, toying with the cigarette pack without much care.

But he kept glancing at me now and then—that much, I could feel.

“Brother, is your dream to grow old alone? Tell me, what’s your retirement plan?”

Cha Geon-ju, who had been joking around with his men, twisted his body slightly to join in, his tone exasperated.

The people around him seemed genuinely tired of Si-baek’s disinterest. But no matter what they said, he didn’t care.

“What’s the point of having a dick if you don’t use it? Aren’t you sick of only using it to take a piss? Your dick must be so miserable.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t be asking you to bend over for me.”

“Man, I usually keep my mouth shut about this kind of stuff, but you live way too dry of a life. It’s pitiful.”

“If you’re not going to use it, why do you even have one? Just to balance your weight between your legs? If that’s the case, swap with Gyeong-pal over there—he’s in dire need.”

Despite the constant jabs, Choi Si-baek didn’t show a single sign of irritation. But from the way they talked to him, it was clear that these conversations were nothing new.

To them, it was incomprehensible—why would someone who had everything, who was fully functional, live like this? Their tone wasn’t one of ridicule, but of genuine bewilderment and pity.

I didn’t know much about Choi Si-baek, but from what I had observed, he never spoke about his private life. It was as if he had built an invisible, impenetrable barrier around himself.

He didn’t let anyone in.

He didn’t make it easy for anyone to get close.

Being around him felt one-sided—like he never gave anything back. It was the kind of thing that left people feeling frustrated.

Even those who had been with him for years seemed exasperated by it.

Without even needing to get close to him, it was easy to tell what kind of person he was.

I had been absentmindedly watching his fingers tapping the cigarette pack when I looked up.

Our eyes met.

Is life only interesting if you date, kiss, have sex? Sure, those things can be fun. But is life really a disaster if you don’t? I couldn’t agree with that.

The moment felt tedious, and I found myself fully sympathizing with the boredom reflected in the eyes of the man across from me. In the end, I was the one who broke eye contact first after what had felt like a silent competition. I glanced down at my wristwatch. The hour hand had already passed the time I had originally planned to leave. I swallowed a sigh.

I should probably go now. If I linger any longer, I might actually end up staying here until sunrise. It was time to get up.

“I think I’ll head out first. I have work tomorrow.”

“What? Already? You haven’t even left a trace in your glass.”

As expected, multiple eyes turned to hold me back. Idiots. If this doesn’t count as drinking, then how much more do I have to chug to at least wet my throat? I scanned the table, my eyes sweeping over the bottles of soju stacked densely across it, feeling a wave of exhaustion.

“My uncle just called. Don’t mind me and keep drinking.”

Throwing out the excuse of my uncle’s call as bait, I quickly left the bar and took in deep breaths of the cool night air. My phone hadn’t actually rung even once.

My social circle was small. But that didn’t mean it was particularly deep either. I always hovered at an ambiguous distance, never fully settling, like a buoy drifting without an anchor, like a paper boat floating aimlessly. I wanted to blame my uncle for getting me tangled up in this mess, but I knew myself too well to do that.

I had a habit of not accepting things at face value, and even when I did, I carried them like a debt in the back of my mind. That’s why, even with people who had no ulterior motives, I ended up stacking up self-imposed debts, one by one. A relationship like that could never progress forward. And my twisted mindset didn’t spare my past boyfriends either.

Gratitude, resentment—everything was always kept at arm’s length, like I was watching from the sidelines. As if my emotions weren’t truly mine.

“…Hah.”

The alcohol in my stomach churned, and I instinctively swallowed some fresh air, but the burning sensation remained. The foggy haze of alcohol could either elevate my mood to its peak or send me plummeting straight to rock bottom. Tonight, it was clearly the latter.

Maybe my period was coming soon. I couldn’t think of any other reason my mood was this low. It had to be hormones messing with me.

Behind me, Choi Si-baek followed, placing an unlit cigarette between his lips before lighting it. If he wanted to smoke that badly, he could’ve stepped outside earlier. Why did he wait until now? The thought flickered through my mind, but I let it die before voicing it.

Well, it wasn’t as if we were close enough for me to ask such trivial things. And honestly, I wasn’t that curious. Our relationship was just that—nothing more, nothing less.

As I watched him idly, he took the cigarette from his mouth, pinching it between his fingers before extending it toward me. When I just stared at it, he gave a slight motion, urging me to take it.

His fingers, long and covered in tattoos, held the cigarette loosely. My gaze unconsciously traced over the patterns as if trying to decipher them, before my eyebrows lifted slightly in question. Was he offering it to me? Now that I thought about it, he’d crushed his cigarette pack earlier—was this his last one? I’d heard that for smokers, sharing the last cigarette was akin to a proposal.

A ridiculous thought, but I was so distracted that I just stood there staring. Eventually, he added,

“I barely took a drag.”

“…I don’t smoke.”

He seemed to have forgotten that. Of course, he wouldn’t remember.

A brief silence passed as we held each other’s gaze, before he retracted the cigarette and brought it back to his lips.

His lips reminded me more of a dry winter than a humid summer—moist and vibrant, yet not warm in the least. But I knew better than to judge by appearances alone. He was a high-temperature winter—something that would burn if you dared to hold it too close.

As I kept staring, his lips pressed around the filter again. He inhaled deeply, as if savoring a kiss, curling the smoke with his tongue before swallowing it.

Caught watching, I heard him speak again, his voice casual.

“You said you wouldn’t smoke.”

I could tell what he meant. If I wasn’t going to smoke, why was I staring?

Before I realized it, my reply slipped out in a blunt tone.

“You just make it look so good.”

Ah. That sounded weird.

I had just come from a place where people were throwing around crude words like “dick” and “pussy” without a second thought, and now even my own speech felt tainted. But I had meant it literally—just the act of smoking, nothing more.

“…I mean, the cigarette. The cigarette.”

I should’ve just shut up. Adding that only made it worse. Now I sounded even more suspicious.

I wasn’t even fazed by the vulgar conversations earlier, but suddenly, my face burned red at the most ridiculous moment. My eyes darted around, avoiding his gaze.

“I didn’t say anything.”

His voice, now teasing, came out in formal speech. Then his lips parted again, exhaling a soft puff of smoke, along with a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. It was faint—so faint that only someone who had studied him closely would notice—but the corner of his mouth curled just a little.

I blinked lazily, still weighed down by the alcohol.

Among all of his features, I cherished his smile the most. Even though he wasn’t mine.

His rare, fleeting smirks had more presence than a full moon. There was something precious about it simply because it was scarce. But even if he smiled like this every day, I doubted it would ever lose its allure.

“You said you wouldn’t take a drag.”

“I don’t want to smoke, I just…”

My eyes unconsciously followed his lips again before trailing downward.

A crisp white shirt, neatly knotted tie, and well-fitted slacks. A man who embodied shades of gray, exuding an aura of cool detachment. He didn’t have the obvious roughness of a gangster, but neither did he blend seamlessly into the world of ordinary people. He stood precariously on the boundary between the two.

From his broad chest that looked like it could hold anyone but never truly opened up, to his feet that seemed ready to run but never wavered—he was dangerous from head to toe.

In my entire life, I had never attached the word “perfection” to anyone before. But tonight, I did—for Choi Si-baek.

Even his danger suited him. As if he was born for it. As if he had been crafted to walk that fine line between allure and peril.

No human being was truly flawless, so the word “perfect” should have been unattainable. But in my mind, I let him have it, just this once.

It was the most cautious praise I had ever given, but for him, my silent admiration was probably nothing more than a fleeting assessment.

Still, I could feel his gaze on me, meeting mine head-on, unwavering.

“So why did you take it if you couldn’t even handle it?”

Though it carried a nuance of disapproval, there was no reproach in his tone.

“I can handle it. This much is nothing.”

“Oh, is that why your face looks like that?”

This time, it was unmistakably teasing. His lips stretched into a smirk, the corners curling up playfully.

“What’s wrong with my face? It’s still pretty.”

“Have you even looked in a mirror? It’s a mess.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve never seen a woman as pretty as this in a mirror before.”

Feigning confidence, I pretended to check my reflection in the dark, unlit phone screen. I knew my lipstick was smudged all over, but I had neither the time nor the energy to fix it. Then, I heard the soft chuckle of air escaping his lips. The way it rumbled, low and slightly muffled, sent a tingle down my spine—sensuous in a way I couldn’t ignore.

If not for the alcohol in my system, he might have caught the redness creeping up my ears. Since when was I so easily affected? I tried, belatedly, to deny it.

“There’s another one like you.”

“Huh? Who? Where?”

“In there.”

He flicked his chin toward the inside of the bar. It took me only a second to understand what he meant. Kim Jong-seop.

Seriously? He was comparing me to that lunatic?

As my face twisted into a grimace, he pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it between his fingers, his smirk still lingering.

“And what about you, Chief Choi? Why didn’t you drink? If you weren’t going to have anything, why did you even stay? You do know it’s bad manners to just watch other people drink at a drinking party, right?”

“I had to keep an eye on you. If you lost your mind again and clung to Kim Jong-seop’s leg, I’d be the one suffering.”

“Ugh, seriously. You should learn to be a little more forgiving of people’s past mistakes.”

Why did he always have to call me out like this?

Annoyance flared up at his amused expression, but knowing I had far more faults than him, I chose to keep my mouth shut. Even as his laughter faded, his gaze remained on me. Still carrying that same weight. Still tinged with that same, lingering color.

Avoiding his eyes, I tilted my head back and looked at the sky. The dark, clouded expanse seemed to press down on me. It felt like rain.

I hated rain when it wasn’t summer. Summer rain had purpose—it cooled the heat. But rain that fell in any other season? It only made people melancholic. I hated how it left me damp and uncomfortable, how it made me wrestle with my own emotions.

If it rained now, my commute tomorrow would be miserable. As I swept back my loosely curled hair, I turned toward him without thinking. By then, he’d already finished his cigarette. Standing there, hands tucked into his slacks, he was watching me.

Raindrops began to fall, landing on his broad shoulders, tilting ever so slightly toward me.

“Uh... shouldn’t we get going? It’s starting to rain.”

In the end, it was me who broke first, unable to withstand the heavy atmosphere between us.

Choi Si-baek’s driving style was aggressive and reckless.

For someone so composed and reserved, it seemed to be the only time he allowed himself to truly express his emotions.

Unlike Kim Jong-seop or Cha Geon-ju, who wore their feelings openly, this man kept everything bottled up—except when he was behind the wheel. I doubted he was the type to enjoy thrills, yet he also seemed incapable of enduring complete stillness. He was difficult to figure out.

Two years ago, my uncle, Chairman Seong, had assigned him as my bodyguard. He’d warned me then: “He’s cynical and doesn’t sugarcoat his words, so try not to take it to heart.”

Maybe his driving style was another thing my uncle had alluded to. I was curious, but not enough to ask.

Si-baek rarely showed emotion, but when he did, it was blatant. Especially when I was being an idiot—like dozing off at a café and spilling my coffee, or wandering aimlessly in a shopping mall because I was feeling sentimental. His arched brows would practically tell me to hurry up and go home.

I wasn’t clumsy, but I wasn’t the type to plan my day meticulously either. My schedule changed often, and he clearly disliked that. As if flexibility was too much to ask from a gangster. Not that I had the guts to say it aloud.

After two years abroad—wandering under the guise of studying—I returned to the office and found myself asking my uncle about him. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I was just... curious.

“That subordinate of yours. The one at the dinner banquet. The guy in the black shirt. Tall, sitting on the far left… He was my bodyguard for a while, two years ago—”

I listed every trait I could think of, just in case my uncle didn’t know who I meant.

“You never used to be like this… Guess he caught your eye. But forget it. No gangsters. If you’re going to date, find someone with a real job.”

“You saying that is hilarious. Don’t worry, I have no interest in dating a gangster. That’s not what I meant—”

“Either way, he’ll be your bodyguard for now. Not permanently. But better him than handing you back to Jong-seop. What do you think?”

When my uncle said that, I hesitated. I could’ve asked for someone else. But I didn’t.

The thought of dealing with that orange-shirted idiot was far worse. That was the simplest, most logical excuse I could come up with for keeping my mouth shut.

Neither option would have been easy to handle anyway.

Sitting in the back seat, I leaned against the headrest, watching him as he drove.

A faint citrus scent lingered in the car, a scent I had noticed ever since I started riding with him. His hands, pale and clean, didn’t look like they belonged to someone in his line of work. My gaze followed from his fingers gripping the wheel to his wrist—just below his neckline, a hint of a tattoo peeked through.

And yet, his face was oddly pristine. His striking eyes carried a sensual depth, but the straight bridge of his nose gave him a refined, almost delicate look.

A man who contained two opposing qualities in one—Choi Si-baek.

Sunlight reflected off the glass, glittering across the surface of the water outside. White waves crashed against the deep blue, and I thought—this suited him.

Clear, pure, luminous. Every good thing I could think of seemed to belong to him.

His deep, inscrutable gaze, too.

Dark and profound, like an abyss—one vast enough to hold all the shadows within me without ever being tainted.

I must have been staring too obviously. As he silently drove for a long while, our eyes met in the rearview mirror. That distinct sensuality of his, pooling deep in his gaze and rendering others helpless, made me shrink back almost instantly.

Clearing my throat unnecessarily, I quickly turned my gaze to the window. I felt like a thief caught red-handed—stealing Choi Si-baek’s beauty and hiding it in my eyes, only to feign innocence with empty hands.

The lights of passing buildings flickered against the car window, appearing and disappearing in an endless loop.

For the rest of the drive home, I kept my eyes outside and remained silent.

Just as I was worrying about the window I had left open, my phone rang. It was my uncle.

After a brief hesitation, I pressed the call button, still keeping my gaze fixed outside. There was nowhere comfortable to rest my eyes in this confined space with him. The dark night draping over the city failed to provide me any cover.

“Yes, Chairman.”

“I’ve narrowed down a few decent guys for you. You should meet them—it’ll be a good distraction.”

His words came through with a muffled slur, as if he was holding a cigarette between his lips. Soon after, I heard the faint whoosh of him exhaling smoke.

My wandering gaze naturally settled on the driver’s seat. For a split second, I caught a glimpse of Choi Si-baek’s rigid profile. Then, as if deliberately avoiding me, he turned his head toward the window. His taut neck, veins bulging with tension, betrayed his restrained agitation.

“Are there still more candidates left? I feel like I’ve already gone through all the doctors, judges, prosecutors, and lawyers from well-off families.”

“I don’t know when I’ll kick the bucket, but before that happens, I need to make sure my only niece finds a decent match.”

“Men don’t just magically appear no matter how hard you squeeze them out. Not that I’m insisting on only meeting people naturally or anything, but I’d rather not go through this again for a while.”

“This one’s a dentist, just like you. Good profession, decent looks. Or do you not like them too good-looking?”

“No way. I like handsome men.”

“Then why do you keep rejecting them? I’ve been carefully picking out the best-looking ones for you.”

“I know. Our dear Chairman puts a great deal of importance on looks—how could I not be aware of that? ‘Men with that thing should at least be good-looking.’ That’s your unshakable principle, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just figured someone standing next to you should at least be a good match.”

Even now, he was being a doting uncle.

Chuckling, I turned my eyes to the rain now pouring down the car window. The once faint droplets had turned into a steady downpour. The car, cutting through the damp air, came to a stop at a red light with a slightly harsh skid. The abrupt silence inside the vehicle made the quiet even heavier.

“Do you already have someone in mind?”

My uncle’s voice rang through the receiver, loud enough for Choi Si-baek to hear clearly.

“It’s not exactly that…”

Hmm. I inhaled slightly and let my words trail off. But my uncle, impatient as ever, pressed on. He usually wasn’t the hasty type, but on this matter, he seemed especially eager.

“If there is someone, you should’ve told me earlier. Don’t overthink it—just bring him over so I can take a look.”

“It’s not like that…”

“Then keep your weekend free. If he turns out to be some piece of shit trying to play games, I’ll just smash his face in and walk away. I’ll handle the aftermath.”

It wasn’t exactly coercion, but he had a way of speaking that left no room for refusal. A natural-born persuader, he didn’t need pressure or threats to get people to follow his lead—he simply had a way of reeling them in. He knew that warmth, not force, melted people’s resolve. And he was waiting for mine to melt, all while casually exhaling cigarette smoke into the phone.

I smiled at his ever-persistent ways.

“Of course. If he tries any bullshit, I won’t just sit back, will I?”

Laughing as I jokingly agreed, I heard him exhale sharply.

I knew why he was so invested in this. It was hard to refuse when I was well aware that, once he was gone, I’d be left truly alone. He worried about that more than anything.

Holding onto the phone any longer wouldn’t change anything. Any more hesitation would only deepen his concerns.

“I’ll think about it. Have a good night, Uncle. And don’t smoke too much, okay?”

At my affectionate tone, he softened, letting out a resigned breath before ending the call.

As soon as my chattering stopped, the oppressive silence returned, wrapping around me like a tightening noose. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but the tension his presence created never seemed to dull. Every time, it was a direct hit.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel in a slow rhythm. With each tap, the neatly buttoned cuffs of his sleeves shifted slightly, revealing glimpses of his wrist. The dark lines traced on his skin peeked through, fleeting yet stark.

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. The act was so loud in the quiet car that it sounded like a thunderclap.

When will the light change already?

Chewing my lower lip, I kept swallowing, as if trying to suck on some invisible candy. If my rolling eyeballs made a sound, the car would be rattling with the noise of my anxious thoughts.

And then, out of nowhere—

Choi Si-baek spoke to me.

Startled, I met his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Stop biting your lips.”

“…Huh? What? I—what?”

What did he just say? I blinked, dazed.

“I said, stop biting your lips.”

I had been trying so hard not to think about something, pressing it deep down in my mind. But with just that one sentence—

Boom.

It burst to the surface.

Two years ago. Before I left for my escape abroad.

‘Ah, ahh! S-Secretary… Ah!’

“I told you—if you don’t call my name, I’m not moving.”

‘Choi Si—ahh! Si-baek, Si—ahh! I—I love it, ah, there, ngh!’

“Where? Where exactly?”

‘Ahn! I—I don’t know, ahh! Ahhh!’

He smirked, pressing down mercilessly, making me crumble under the weight of overwhelming pleasure.

“You don’t know? After all this time, when I’ve been showing you exactly where?”

Desperately trying to hold on, I had rubbed at my tear-filled eyes with trembling fingers.

He had bitten down on the back of my hand, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“Don’t bite your lips.”

“Ahh! Ahn! But then—my voice, ahh! Ahhh!”

“You wanted a reason to cry freely, didn’t you? Then cry.”

Instead of biting your lips until they bled.

The same words he had whispered against the wounded skin of my neck, scattering heat along with his breath.

“It’s distracting. Seriously.”

“Ngh, ah, ahh!”

“Who the hell taught you this habit?”

My legs were shaking uncontrollably, and my frail, desperate fingers were clawing at his arm. When he kept slipping my nipple between his fingers and biting down on it, I grabbed his fingers and bit them in response. At that moment, his expression changed.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, his eyes darkening.

Then his thrusts sped up, and so did my helpless moans. No matter how hard I bit my lips, the sounds still escaped through my clenched teeth.

“St-stop, no, ha, ahh! P-please! Ahhh!”

“You turn people on and then try to run away? Who the hell taught you that, huh?”

He had often complained about my habits in bed, trying to analyze my usual patterns, only to express his discontent just as frequently. Who the hell had I learned sex from to end up with habits like these? And the more he thought about it, the harder his thrusts became.

“Ah, good, ahh! So good, hnn.”

When I couldn’t handle the overwhelming pleasure during sex, I had a habit of rubbing my eyes so hard it felt like they would pop out. I had to show this habit to him as well. No, he had dragged out every last bit of me, down to the very bottom.

Whenever I tried to close my thighs even a little, he would forcibly spread them wide open, as if he wanted to see every last inch of my mess. He wouldn’t let me hide the sight of my hole swallowing up his cock.

Even now, just thinking about it made my ears burn with shame, and the echoes of my moans refused to fade from my memory.

There is nothing more uncomfortable than running into a one-night stand again. Of course, this man was the first one-night stand of my life.

But when I saw him pretending not to remember, so indifferent and detached, I couldn’t help but wonder—was it all just in my head? But no, I knew for certain. That night, it was definitely him. No matter how many times I retraced my memories, it was no mistake.

Was I the only one unable to erase this wretched memory? His blank, unreadable eyes gave away nothing.

Surely, he still remembered that night, didn’t he? And yet, he acted as if nothing had ever happened?

But then again, what did it even matter if he did remember? It wasn’t a question I could answer.

That night, and even now, I knew there was nothing beyond this. We weren’t that kind of relationship. Whether I bit my lips until they bled or let them burst open—it had nothing to do with him. I wanted to throw that question back at him. I didn’t know where this sudden, irrational irritation was coming from.

“It’s fine. It’s just a habit.”

Two years. A long time, long enough that forgetting wasn’t unusual. Maybe I was the strange one for not being able to forget. Because once I got attached, I found it hard to let go.

“You don’t need to worry about it.”

Annoyed by his unnecessary concern, I deliberately responded with indifference.

He didn’t say anything back.

See? That’s just the kind of man he is.

Whether it was a one-night stand or two nights, he was never the type to give it much meaning. Expecting otherwise would be laughable.

To him, it didn’t matter whether he remembered or not.

In the end, I was the only one feeling uncomfortable.

Unable to endure the suffocating air inside the car, I opened the console box and took out a piece of candy, placing it in my mouth. I needed something—anything—to distract myself. As I rolled it under my tongue, the only sound in the car was the faint clinking of the candy against my teeth.

Bzzz.

The silence was cut by the vibration of my phone, faintly shaking the seat.

At the same time, the traffic light turned green, and the car moved forward again.

The screen displayed a notification from my high school reunion group chat. Several group photos from the recent reunion appeared. I tapped on them and zoomed in. Among the familiar faces, my own smiling face stood out awkwardly. What was I even smiling about?

“Seo Jae-yeon is still just as pretty.”

“Ah, Jae-yeon, you said you couldn’t come. I skipped it because of that! If I had known, I would’ve gone too.”

I was long past the age of getting excited over meaningless jokes. Ignoring the comments, I closed the chat window and let out a silent chuckle.

And then, I made eye contact with him.

The reflection in the rearview mirror was scorching, like light bouncing off glass. Maybe that was why—why even a simple glance felt like a battle, making me break eye contact first.

The corners of my lips, which had unconsciously lifted, dropped like they had fallen off a cliff.

I glanced back at the mirror.

Choi Si-baek was frowning slightly as he drove.

That strange, uncomfortable feeling followed me all the way home.

The only thing that relieved the suffocating silence was the sound of raindrops hitting the car.

I regretted it.

I should’ve asked for a different driver.

Not that I hadn’t tried.

But the response I got was:

“That guy won’t be available for long anyway. He’s too busy. The company needs him too. But at least until you settle back into Korea, I’ve arranged for him to help you out.”

After hearing that, I couldn’t bring myself to argue.

I couldn’t exactly say, I slept with him, and now I feel awkward seeing him, especially not to my uncle—the man who had fed me, clothed me, and taken me in.

He gripped the steering wheel and turned it smoothly, maneuvering the car with ease.

Unlike me, slumped deep into the seat, he sat upright, his posture disciplined.

Through the windshield, I could only see the back of his head, ink-black against the dim light.

The sound of fabric rustling as his shirt shifted against his body reached my ears. Every little sensation felt heightened.

Crunch.

The candy shattered between my teeth, the sound loud in the tense air.

The suffocating atmosphere inside the car pressed down on me.

It was impossible to ignore now.

Maybe he sensed my persistent glances from the passenger seat, because he looked at me again through the rearview mirror.

The car stopped at another red light.

Once again, our eyes clashed in the reflection.

I should’ve asked for someone else.

Maybe Kim Jong-seop, the guy in the orange shirt, would’ve been better.

At least with him, I could breathe.

At least with him, I could yell back if he started spouting nonsense.

But this silence—this unbearable tension—it burned me from the inside out.

Even my own breathing felt too loud.

I found myself counting my breaths, even hesitating before swallowing.

And once again, I was the first to break eye contact.

“Ah…”

A faint taste of iron spread in my mouth.

My lip had split under the pressure of my own teeth.

I rubbed the sore spot with the tip of my tongue and pressed down firmly.

The falling rain suddenly began to pound against the car window with such force and speed that counting its rhythm became meaningless.

For a brief moment, I let my tense mind settle, hiding my breath beneath the sound of the rain—until I started worrying about the window I had left open.

Choi Si-baek stepped out of the car, opened his umbrella, and approached the backseat.

I stepped into the cover of the umbrella he held open. Even amidst the damp rain, his scent spread like watercolor. A blend of woody cologne, the subtle citrus fragrance of fabric softener, and a faint but not unpleasant trace of cigarette smoke. Even in the rain, he carried a heavy presence. And to me, that presence felt burdensome.

“…….”

Without realizing it, I matched my steps to his, stepping into puddles that had gathered along the way. My arm kept brushing against his, gathering dampness from the humidity. His pace was neither too fast nor too slow—it was set to match mine, unmistakably so.

It wasn’t that he was particularly considerate of others. He was simply carrying out orders, as if serving those above him was second nature. His sharp social awareness and rigid professionalism didn’t quite fit the image of a gangster, yet oddly enough, he carried the scent of organized crime.

Maybe it was his habit of never exposing his back to anyone. Or perhaps it was the cynicism that, despite his best efforts to hide, still clung to him.

A strange man. The more I tried to make sense of him, the more elusive he became.

But in the end, he was just a thug.

I scoffed and dismissed my thoughts. Just because my uncle was involved in that line of work didn’t mean I wanted to sugarcoat it. No matter how much I dressed it up with fancy words, the truth remained the same.

A thug, at his core. A man who, when things went south, settled matters with human lives as collateral.

Maybe the only flaw in his otherwise perfect existence was the world he belonged to. That was what made him so precarious, so dangerously captivating.

I couldn’t deny that I had been drawn to him, that he had caught my eye.

And that was precisely why I wanted to keep my distance.

I was done with dangerous things, with precarious situations. It was time to stop.

“Give me the umbrella. I’ll hold it.”

As we walked side by side, he barely acknowledged my outstretched hand and continued forward.

“What’s with the sudden change? Just keep using me like you always do.”

“No, but still—”

As I reached for the handle, my hand briefly brushed against his, and I instinctively withdrew.

Whether I had decided to pretend it never happened or not, the fact remained—seeing a man I’d had a one-night stand with was, from the very start, absurd.

If I had known we would meet again, I would never have done something so reckless.

At the time, I hadn’t even planned on returning to Korea. I had been determined to start anew elsewhere.

Had I known I’d be back two years later, I wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.

Even as I tried to maintain an indifferent expression, my body betrayed me, reacting sensitively to even the slightest touch.

Like mismatched gears grinding together, our steps felt awkward. I kept readjusting my bag on my shoulder for no reason, repeating the motion meaninglessly.

The moment my shoe tip touched the entrance of my apartment building, I hurried toward the shared entrance’s passcode door as if fleeing.

As I entered the code, he closed the umbrella and approached. The sound of his shoes against the ground was different from mine, distinctly masculine.

I brushed off the raindrops clinging to my shoulder and walked toward the elevator.

The scent of rain had deepened his fragrance, making it even more intoxicating. As we stepped into the elevator, his scent filled the small space, overwhelming my already heightened senses.

“…….”

“…….”

I stared at the elevator panel, my fingers lightly intertwined, and didn’t look away until we reached the 26th floor.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out and walked to my front door. He remained behind me, waiting as if expecting me to open the door.

The moment I did, he stepped inside without hesitation, scanning the space as if checking for intruders or any signs of danger.

Just like he had done two years ago, before I had boarded a plane and disappeared.

He strode across the room, opening doors and inspecting every corner.

Even though his movements were casual, I found myself trusting him.

Oddly enough, the job of a gangster inspired a strange sense of security in me.

After all, he was someone who made a living by hunting down people who hid—and taking care of them.

It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but when it came to this, he was undoubtedly a professional.

While he inspected the apartment, I leaned against the door and idly scratched at it with my fingernail.

During my time abroad, there had been an incident—a pervert had hidden under my bed.

Thankfully, I had come home with some friends after a night of drinking. I had woken up in the middle of the night to close the window, only to lock eyes with a stranger.

His face had flickered under the sudden flash of lightning.

From that night on, I always slept with the lights on.

By the time he finished checking the apartment, he emerged from the bedroom and walked toward me with long, deliberate strides.

To him, things like this were routine. After all, his world was filled with small-time factions constantly picking fights with his organization.

His every movement, the subtle shift of his gaze, all spoke of experience.

And for a moment, I caught a glimpse of his past.

My head, still hazy from the alcohol, kept nodding forward, heavy and sluggish.

Before I realized it, his shadow had fallen over me.

It was just a shadow—barely a hand’s width apart.

Yet it felt like his entire presence was pressing down on me.

Struggling against the weight of his presence, I tilted my head up.

But as I met his eyes, I felt suffocated again.

I needed to get rid of him—quickly.

It was the only solution I could think of.

“Thanks for today.”

I spoke quickly, rushing the words out before I could hesitate.

“Oh, right. I was supposed to pay for the drinks, but you covered it, didn’t you?”

I tried to maintain a casual tone, though I was anything but.

“Next time, don’t do that. It makes me feel like I owe you something. And I hate being in debt.”

I deliberately let my words carry a subtle implication.

Even if it had been consensual, I hated feeling indebted.

So next time, don’t do that.

As if to drive the point home, I spoke more firmly.

He remained silent.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at me with a piercing gaze.

I stole a glance at him.

But try as I might, I couldn’t read anything from those eyes.

Did he really not remember? It really seemed that way.

Thinking that made me feel somewhat relieved, yet at the same time, it unsettled me to know that we had shared that time and moment, but I was the only one who seemed to remember it.

Was it because of the alcohol? My emotions were boiling over with inconsistency.

As I brushed back my hair, which kept falling over my forehead, he took a step closer. Startled, I instinctively shrank back, and the corner of his eyebrow twitched slightly.

“So, what I’m saying is….”

“Stop beating around the bush. I get it.”

That signature deep voice of his, neither fast nor slow, pressed down on me with weight.

The tightening pressure made my head spin as if all the air had been sucked out.

“Seo Jae-yeon.”

Hearing my name form on his lips, I suddenly found myself unable to breathe.

It was the first time in two months since returning to Korea that this man had called my name.

“Lock both doors before you sleep.”

“…I can handle—”

“Even if it’s hot, don’t open the window.”

As if he knew me inside out, he listed off my past habits one after another.

“And don’t rub your eyes until they’re sore just because they itch.”

Frozen like a fool, I stood there, completely dried up like a pillar of salt.

“At least give me a response. Not that it matters. Never mind. Just sleep.”

Knowing exactly how to suffocate a person in every possible way, he left before I could say anything. As if he hadn’t expected a response from me in the first place.

I remained in place for a long time, unable to move, even as I heard the sound of the front door closing and the electronic lock engaging.

The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow across the bedroom, but I couldn’t sleep.

I picked up my phone from the nightstand, then set it down, pulling the blanket up to my neck, my wide-open eyes blinking into the darkness.

On stormy nights like this, falling asleep always felt like an impossible task.

Summer had long since passed, but inside my apartment, it felt as though I were still enduring the sweltering heat.

Would it be better if I opened the window just a little? I reached out but hesitated, recalling that man’s voice telling me not to.

I knew for certain that no one had entered my apartment. No one could.

My uncle had personally found this place for me, and I trusted his judgment to some extent. More than that, the apartment’s security system was fairly solid.

No one would break in.

And yet, there was someone who had made sure of that before leaving.

So why did this storm frighten me so much?

I clenched my eyes shut.

I needed to sleep.

If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to wake up early tomorrow.

I had to sleep.

Repeating that to myself over and over again.