Haejun was staring pitifully at the food like he might start drooling when Lee Kangjoo, unable to watch any longer, placed a peeled shrimp onto Haejun’s small plate. It was a large stead prawn topped with five-colored garnish.
Haejun hesitated before carefully putting it into his mouth. The firm flesh crunched lightly, then lted away after just a few chews. His eyes sparkled.
He’d never eaten sothing like this in his life. He’d always thought he didn’t care much about food and that he didn’t eat much to begin with. That wasn’t it. Everything he’d eaten until now had simply been fuel for survival. This—this was food. Even a single strand of garnish carried care.
From that mont, the real al began. Whenever Haejun emptied a dish, Lee Kangjoo called the staff to refill it. Like tossing feed to a starving animal, he sotis trimd whatever was closest to him into bite-sized pieces and slid it toward Haejun.
It felt like he was the only one wolfing everything down. Glancing sideways, Haejun picked the bones clean from a piece of braised short rib beside him and held out a thick chunk of at to Lee Kangjoo. Maybe because he was used to doing this for Yohan, he ended up holding it out with his chopsticks directly to Lee Kangjoo’s mouth.
Lee Kangjoo didn’t refuse. He took the chopsticks between his lips without hesitation.
Haejun was surprised but didn’t show it.
“It’s good, right?”
Grinning, Haejun pulled the chopsticks back and took a small bite himself. Maybe it was the sauce, or maybe because Lee Kangjoo’s lips had touched it, but it tasted sweeter than before. Lee Kangjoo only smiled once at the sight of Haejun’s upturned lips.
With dish after dish arriving endlessly, Haejun’s small stomach quickly filled. He’d only eaten half his rice, but even taking one bite of each side dish was far more than he normally ate. He couldn’t swallow another mouthful.
After he finally set his spoon down, saying he couldn’t eat anymore, dessert arrived. Ice cream made from freshly harvested rice and yakgwa simred in grain syrup. There wasn’t room for even a slice of sashimi in his stomach, but thinking he might never get to eat sothing like this again, Haejun kept moving his spoon diligently.
“Have this too.”
Lee Kangjoo pushed his portion of dessert toward Haejun. Haejun refused at first, worried he’d look like a pig, but Kangjoo said he didn’t really like sweets. Throwing away sothing so expensive felt like a cri, so Haejun accepted it with feigned reluctance.
“How was the al?”
“It was seriously delicious. I’ve never eaten anything like this in my life.”
“Which was the best?”
Everything had been excellent. It was hard to pick just one. The abalone braised in special soy sauce, the yukhoe topped with egg yolk, the fresh pine mushrooms served with sesa oil. Haejun even furrowed his brows in serious contemplation. After an intense internal tournant, a winner erged.
“The stead prawns!”
Not just because they were delicious, but because Lee Kangjoo had personally peeled off the head and tail and placed them on his plate. His face lit up with the relieved, delighted smile of soone who’d finally reached a decision.
After glancing at him briefly, Lee Kangjoo changed the subject.
Haejun scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and looked at him.
“Cha Haejun, your advance deductions are almost finished.”
Haejun froze.
Under the table, he lowered his hand and tried counting the number of nights he’d spent with Lee Kangjoo. He folded his fingers, then gave up. There was no way he could rember. Like an idiot, he hadn’t even marked it on a calendar.
“How would you like to proceed?”
His chest suddenly felt tight. Maybe he’d eaten too fast and gotten indigestion. The smooth lump of ice cream felt stuck halfway down his throat.
Haejun sipped water and lowered his gaze. He’d just been rejoicing over the best al of his life—was that their last supper?
“Do I get to choose?”
If it had been Yohan, he would’ve spun so dazzling bullshit and found a way to extend the contract. Haejun didn’t have that talent. With other clients, he might’ve faked tears or at least tried to look pitiful. But in front of Lee Kangjoo, his tongue and brain stopped working. His mind always went blank.
“Sharp. Of course you don’t have a choice, Cha Haejun.”
Lee Kangjoo raised the warm teacup to his lips. While Haejun felt like his insides were burning black, Kangjoo looked leisurely—almost languid.
Haejun dug his nails into his thigh. If he said, “Good work until now,” he felt like he’d burst into tears.
“But isn’t it a bit early? You said you’d help find a hobby.”
Haejun, who’d only been fidgeting anxiously, looked up. Lee Kangjoo t his eyes and set the teacup down.
“It’s just getting interesting. Seems a sha to end it. Let’s go another three months.”
It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. The tears that had been trembling at the edge of his eyes retreated.
Haejun nodded so hard his head nearly fell off.
“It’ll be even more fun from now on. I promise. I’ll do my best.”
It felt like he’d fallen into a rope-less well and a bucket had miraculously been lowered from the sky. He quickly wiped away the rest of his tears and bead.
“What’s your schedule after today?”
“Ah, I have to go back to deliveries. I was late today, so the boss is pissed. I need to work harder.”
“Leave early.”
“Huh?”
It was such a sudden request that Haejun tilted his head.
“I’m doing the sa.”
After saying that, Lee Kangjoo stood first. Haejun followed him in confusion. Before leaving Cheongundam, a staff mber handed Lee Kangjoo a three-tiered lunch box.
“Do you have another appointnt?”
He wondered if Lee Kangjoo was eting soone else—and if so, why he’d asked him to leave work early. Lee Kangjoo held the heavy lunch box like it weighed nothing and looked at him.
“You’ll be hungry later, Cha Haejun.”
Haejun blinked rapidly. A second later, understanding dawned, and his neck slowly flushed pink like peach blossoms blooming. He’d fed him well—now he was going to savor him properly.
* * *
Just as planned, the lunch box ended up in Haejun’s mouth.
Whether Lee Kangjoo had ordered it specially or whether it was part of the set nu, it even included the stead prawns Haejun had declared the best.
Instead of the food, Lee ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) Kangjoo devoured Haejun.
On top of him. Beneath him. Lying on his side. In the bathroom, rolling around slick and ssy.
Even as pleasure scrambled his thoughts, Haejun bit the inside of his cheeks and his lips to hold back his voice. The faint tallic taste that had mixed into the sweetness of the lunch box—he flushed at the thought that it must’ve been because of that.
That had been a few days ago.
Now Haejun sat blankly on a bench, a cigarette between his lips. It was the smoking area attached to the building—a place where residents stepped out to smoke without looking at one another.
He stared at the hazy smoke in a daze. Unlike his unfocused eyes, his head was crowded with thoughts. Mostly about Lee Kangjoo.
He’d been lucky to get three more months, but that was still a fixed term. When renewal season ca around again, he’d surely be under so much stress he’d go bald in patches.
Half the cigarette had burned down when a bright voice called out, “Hyung!”
Haejun slowly turned his head. No Eunjae ca trotting over, wearing a soft beige knit and a brown long coat. The way he grinned with his teeth showing made him look exactly like a big, friendly dog.
“Wow, I was craving a cigarette today. Guess it was to run into you.”
“School ends pretty late.”
It was past nine in the evening. Haejun had never even crossed a university threshold, so he had no idea when classes ended or what lectures were like.
“I stayed late doing assignnts with the others. When did you get off work?”
“About an hour ago.”
No Eunjae sat beside him and put a cigarette in his mouth. He rummaged through his pocket and made a troubled face—no lighter. When Haejun tossed his over, Eunjae pouted and asked him to light it for him. Annoying, but not impossible. Haejun flicked the lighter.
“It tastes better when you light it for . Maybe you’ve got good hands.”
What nonsense. Haejun smoked his cigarette down to the end and stubbed it out in the ashtray. He had no desire to inhale soone else’s smoke or wait around.
“I’m heading up first.”
“Ah, wait.”
No Eunjae grabbed his sleeve. He whined about being lonely if left alone and drooped his brows dramatically. Maybe to keep Haejun there, he bought a warm drink from the vending machine and handed it over.
“Here, have this.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He didn’t mind the drink warming his cold hands. Since he wasn’t the type to accept a bribe and walk off, Haejun turned back and sat down on the bench.
“The guys keep telling to switch to e-cigarettes, but it’s not easy. The taste isn’t the sa. Feels like watered-down soju.”
No Eunjae was talkative. He rambled about school life, about who had gotten together with whom, about his past working as a host and which client he rembered most. He was good at talking, so it wasn’t boring to listen.
“But hyung, are you really just doing deliveries?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
No Eunjae turned his head and t Haejun’s eyes. His expression was serious—almost like Yohan’s when he warned him not to lie.
They were just passing acquaintances. Was there any need to tell the truth?
Haejun drained the last of his canned drink and answered the sa way.
“Yeah.”
“Actually, hyung, I saw.”
“Saw what?”
“I saw a man going into your place.”
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