INT Ch 9.2

“Do you live alone?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He stopped asking and smiled quietly, as if he already knew the answer.

Through the curtain-drawn window, there was no view of the city or streets—only the wall of the building opposite. The red and blue neon lights outside flickered faintly against the curtain.

“How old are you?”

“That’s none of your business. Just teach me how to get over someone quickly.”

“That’s pretty fast.”

“What is?”

“The quickest way to get over an ex is to find someone new. If you enjoy yourselves together, you’ll forget them in no time.”

To forget Hyun Woojin—somehow, anyhow—the only way was to erase him with someone else. Meeting someone new might help him forget, if not immediately, then eventually. The man’s words made sense.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. The man got up, opened the door, and came back with a bag. He placed chicken, beer, and soju on the small table.

“If you want to forget that guy quickly, head over there.”

He pointed at the bed. Haewon glanced at the unusually large bed—it seemed to be king-sized rather than queen-sized.

“Why is the bed so big?”

When Haewon asked, the man stared at the bed for a while, as if he had never thought about it before, and then replied,

“There are beds for just two people, but sometimes you need a bed for more.”

“…”

“All sorts of people come to places like this, you know.”

He was subtly making dirty jokes. Haewon pretended not to notice and downed the beer he poured for him. The cold beer felt refreshing against the warm temperature of the motel room.

After Hyun Woojin’s cold rejection, Haewon didn’t feel like crying somewhere; he just felt dazed, as if he’d been struck hard. Even though he’d walked a long way through the cold, he felt like the alcohol hadn’t fully worn off.

“Still, I need to know your age to figure out whether to call you ‘hyung’ or not.”

“I’m done with calling anyone ‘hyung’ now.”

“Then I’ll be your younger brother. You look younger, but I’ll be the younger one anyway.”

“Suit yourself.”

He was thirsty. Even after drinking beer, the dryness in his throat didn’t go away. The younger man snatched the beer can from Haewon’s hand, telling him to drink slower.

“So, what happened with that guy? How did you two break up, hyung?”

He held the beer can to his lips and stared intently at Haewon as he asked.

“We fought. I told him to get lost because I thought he was just playing with me.”

“Ah, and then he got mad and decided to end things with you?”

“Don’t call him ‘that guy.’ He’s way older than you.”

“Okay, then ‘that man’?”

When the younger man called Hyun Woojin “that man,” Haewon couldn’t help but chuckle. He wondered if he could be this cheeky in front of Hyun Woojin himself. Those dark, forest-like eyes of Hyun Woojin, which seemed to harbor the wild cruelty of a predator, were enough to make anyone uneasy. Haewon was curious to see if this guy would still act this way in front of him.

“He’s not ‘that man.’ He’s older than me—more like a hyung.”

“Wow, you’re still into him, huh? Thought you wanted to forget him.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t like him anymore.”

“Ah, damn. You’re so cute. Makes me want to eat you up right now.”

“Just give me more beer.”

The younger man handed him the beer can. Haewon drank it, but it tasted strange—either the beer was off, or something was wrong with him. The taste as it slid down his throat felt odd. His body started to feel weak and limp. Haewon leaned back into the wing chair, sinking into it and letting his head droop back.

“Are you drunk already? We haven’t even started yet. Hyung, get up.”

“…”

What if I can’t forget him? What if I keep thinking about him?

Why was that?

Haewon suddenly wanted to call Taeshin. Just like Taeshin had called him to ramble on about things he didn’t want to hear, he wanted to call Taeshin and ramble about things Taeshin wouldn’t care about or want to hear. He just wanted to talk to him.

Haewon let his head droop while half-opening his eyes. A hand waved in front of him. He could see it, and his mind was alert, but his body wouldn’t respond.

“Ah, did I use too much?”

The man muttered as he approached. He lifted Haewon’s head and looked into his eyes. Their gazes met. The man was a handsome figure, someone who looked instantly likable.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

“…”

“You can’t speak, can you? And you can’t move either.”

Instead of nodding, Haewon blinked his eyes. The man supported Haewon’s side, lifted him effortlessly, and laid him on the bed. Half-lidded eyes watched the man’s actions. It didn’t feel unpleasant, but a creeping sense of unease began to thicken, like smoke clouding his consciousness.

“That was a mistake.”

The man spoke to himself as he adjusted Haewon fully onto the bed and propped a pillow behind his head.

“When you wake up, don’t get mad. If you don’t like it, I won’t do anything. Blink twice if you don’t want this.”

Sitting beside him, the man leaned close to whisper. Haewon blinked twice. The man ignored his response, staring down at him as if contemplating something, then leaned over, gently tilting Haewon’s face toward him.

“Sorry, but I can’t resist. Damn it, how could anyone?”

The man grabbed Haewon’s face and pressed their lips together. Hot lips and a thick tongue invaded his mouth. Haewon couldn’t move a single finger.

It wasn’t innocence—it was foolishness. Of all times, it had to be after Hyun Woojin rejected him and told him it was truly over, never to contact him again.

After their breakup, everything felt like it was unraveling. Barely able to murmur a weak protest, Haewon made a sound that was more a groan than words. The man paused and pulled back, his flushed face showing signs of arousal.

“I won’t hurt you. I’ll use protection, okay? It’ll be fine, right?”

Haewon blinked twice. The man pretended not to notice Haewon’s clear refusal. As the man began undressing him, Haewon’s consciousness blurred, overtaken by whatever substance he had been given. His vision turned murky, and then everything went black. Haewon closed his eyes.

∞ ∞ ∞

The harsh ringing of a phone pierced through Haewon’s bloated, foggy awareness. His head felt like it was going to split open. Grimacing, he opened his eyes. Still unaware he was on the bed in his studio apartment, he fumbled for his phone and answered.

“…Yes.”

— This is Officer Kim Seokho from the Serious Crime Division. Is this Moon Haewon’s phone?

“Yes.”

Barely processing what was being said, Haewon replied vaguely, recognizing only his name. Still lying facedown, he tried to gather his thoughts.

— Why haven’t you been answering? Do you know how many times I called?

“Yes.”

— Pull yourself together. Are you still not fully conscious?

“…Yes.”

— Have you urinated yet?

“Yes.”

— I mean, did you pee? Urinate!

“…What are you talking about?”

— You need to collect your first urine sample. Don’t forget, it’s crucial for evidence. Got it?

“I don’t understand… who is this?”

— This is Officer Kim Seokho from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Department’s Major Crimes Unit. We suspect you were drugged with GHB last night. Collecting your first urine sample is vital for proving the charges. When you wake up, use a clean container—not a paper cup, but something like a sealed food container. Understood? Moon Haewon, are you listening?

“I don’t get it.”

— Just remember this: don’t just pee. Collect it. Without it, it’ll be hard to prosecute this person. Please don’t forget.

“My head hurts…”

— Sigh. I’ll send an officer to your place. Just follow their instructions, okay? Are you listening? Moon Haewon? Hey!

Still holding the phone, Haewon closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He was deep in sleep when the sound of the intercom woke him again. He barely had the energy to ask who it was and simply opened the door, muttering that they should take care of their business quickly and leave. Then he collapsed back onto the bed.

The person who entered his studio apartment was a uniformed officer. Haewon was barely able to get up, guided by the officer who claimed to be from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Department. He went into the bathroom and urinated into the container the officer handed him.

After taking a shower and drinking a strong cup of coffee in an attempt to regain his senses, Haewon noticed the officer still standing there with the container of his urine.

The officer urged him to change clothes quickly, saying they needed to leave. Haewon complied, changed, and got into the police car, which he only realized was locked from the inside after sitting down.

“Where are we going? Did I do something wrong?”

“We’re heading to the police station. You didn’t do anything wrong—you were the victim.”

“Me? A victim?”

The officer glanced at him through the rearview mirror with a look of disdain.

“You’ll get the details at the station.”

Haewon’s mind was in a whirl. His lips ached inexplicably, reminiscent of the dull pain he felt after kissing Hyun Woojin for hours.

At the Major Crimes Unit, a rough-looking man Haewon had seen at the barbecue restaurant the previous day sat with a bad posture, scribbling something. The officer who brought Haewon handed over the container of his urine. Kim Seokho, clearly intending to embarrass Haewon, received the container and asked the officer,

“First sample?”

“I collected it as soon as I arrived.”

“Good job. Have a seat.”

Kim sighed. “What a coincidence—or maybe someone’s prank. Either way, here we are again. You’re the one who prank-called Prosecutor Hyun Woojin yesterday, right?”

“…”

“It’s fine, sit down. That’s not why I called you here.”

Haewon sat in the empty chair in front of Kim’s desk.

He’d never had his fortune read, but he was sure it would warn him to beware of legal troubles this year. He’d lost count of how many times he’d been dragged into a police station.

Kim placed a fruit drink in front of Haewon, who, parched, reached for it. Kim clicked his tongue disapprovingly, prompting Haewon to meet his condescending gaze.

“Don’t accept drinks with open lids.”

“…”

The fruit drink had its lid removed. Haewon alternated his gaze between Kim and the drink.

“Accepting drinks carelessly is how you end up unconscious.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“That’s what surprises me. Yesterday, we got intel on prostitution at that motel. I was on duty and had to check it out. Room by room, we searched, and there you were, sprawled on a bed. Then I looked closer and realized it was you—the guy who prank-called the prosecutor.”

“Was I drugged?”

“Yeah, GHB, the date rape drug. The guy was a rookie and overdosed you. That’s why you were completely unconscious. If it weren’t for me, Moon Haewon, you’d have been in big trouble.”

“Did anything… happen to me?”

“You were clothed. Don’t worry.”

“…Okay.”

Haewon couldn’t remember how he got home, but it seemed he’d managed to change into pajamas and sleep. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind amid all the chaos earlier.

“Nothing was in your system, so don’t worry and drink this. But from now on, don’t accept anything from strangers.”

Haewon drank the juice in one gulp. His mouth was dry, and his head spun. He barely maintained focus as he wrote his statement. When asked if he wanted to press charges against the man he’d met last night, Haewon shook his head.

Filing charges would lead to prosecution, which meant dealing with a prosecutor. And if his luck was bad, the case could land on Hyun Woojin’s desk.

If Hyun Woojin found out, he’d be disappointed in him. Haewon had told him he wanted to see him, but instead, he ended up in a motel with a stranger, drugged, and unconscious. Even Haewon was ashamed of himself—how much more so would Hyun Woojin be?

Even if the case didn’t go to Hyun Woojin, an investigation would likely bring the news to his ears. Haewon didn’t want him to know how he’d ended up drunk, in a motel, taking drugs from a stranger, losing consciousness, and making a fool of himself.

He politely declined Kim Seokho’s attempts to persuade him to press charges, submitted his statement, and left the police station.

∞ ∞ ∞

Breaking up with Hyun Woojin felt less like parting ways and more like being overturned by him. He felt as though he was tumbling, falling, then stumbling again, rolling in the dirt, getting trampled on. Breaking up with just one person had made everything in his life an utter mess.

Putting aside the fact that life was falling apart and setting aside the inability to practice, what truly tormented Haewon was the humiliation of wanting to call the man who had told him never to call again. He even considered going to him, kneeling, and begging to start over, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Haewon realized, as he faced his desire to visit Hyun Woojin’s officetel, that once a person starts clinging and degrading themselves, they truly hit rock bottom.

To distract himself, Haewon deliberately visited his parents’ house, staring at living proof of how empty and futile love could be. His mother had refused to show her aging, frail, and withering self to his father, who lived with a younger, beautiful woman. Even in her final moments, her pride persisted, and she passed away lonely and desolate. All because she loved his father, and his father loved someone else.

Haewon understood better than anyone how disgraceful and fleeting love could be.

“What are you staring at so intently?”

His stepmother, who had been arranging flowers, glanced sideways at Haewon.

“You don’t love Dad, do you?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I must have lived too long to hear such nonsense.”

This was the same stepmother who had once claimed her love was eternal and noble while dismissing his mother’s pain. Haewon thought to himself how utterly worthless love was. It only shone for a moment. Right now, he only wanted to see Hyun Woojin. At this moment, he only wanted to hear his voice.

He would rather waste his energy arguing with his stepmother. Haewon searched for something to provoke her and wondered aloud how Gao Ling, the woman his father had met in San Francisco, was doing.

“Was she twenty-one or twenty-two?”

“What?”

“Gao Ling.”

“Gao Ling?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? Dad knows her. He set up a home with her in San Francisco. Her name is Gao Ling, and she’s either twenty-one or twenty-two. She used to work at a Chinese restaurant as a waitress. She’s tall and slender like a ballerina, so they say she looks stunning in a cheongsam, even better than Tang Wei.”

It wasn’t Tang Wei, but Haewon only knew that name among Chinese actresses. He deliberately provoked his stepmother by claiming his father’s mistress was as beautiful as Tang Wei.

“He set up a home with a twenty-year-old Chinese girl?!”

“She’s not twenty, more like twenty-one or twenty-two. Oh… you didn’t know?”

As Haewon murmured indifferently, his stepmother’s face flushed red, and she sprang to her feet. She stormed into the bedroom where his father was napping.

The sound of a heated argument, full of accusations and anger, came through the closed door. It seemed his father had recently gifted his stepmother a cheongsam. She accused him of buying it because he missed “that woman” and wanted to see her in it. The slapping sounds were loud, though it wasn’t clear what was being hit.

The housekeeper, who had brought tea, muttered as she cleaned up the mess of flowers scattered on the living room table.

“Oh dear, they were so quiet for a while. What’s gotten into them now?”

“Love is just that ugly.”

“What? What did you say, Haewon?”

“Nothing.”

Haewon lounged on the sofa, popping a piece of melon into his mouth. Hyun Woojin’s face filled his mind.

A few days ago, he had deleted Woojin’s photos from his phone, unable to stop staring at them. He had erased the voice files the day before, but now he was overwhelmed with a desperate longing to see him.

Not knowing how to recover the deleted photos, he took his phone to a professional service to have the pictures and voice files restored at a cost. He repeated this process of deleting and recovering about three times before the service provider finally gave him free instructions on how to recover deleted files. After that, Haewon gave up on deleting them altogether.

Leaving behind the sounds of his father and stepmother’s fight, Haewon departed his family home. Even after witnessing firsthand how futile love could be, he still couldn’t stop wanting to see Hyun Woojin.

He searched for flights and booked a ticket to Bangkok. He also reserved a hotel. A few days later, he packed some summer clothes into a suitcase, grabbed his violin, and left his officetel. Although there was plenty of time before his flight, he headed straight to the airport.

He felt that unless he went to a country with a different season to completely reset his mood, he wouldn’t be able to overcome the current situation, which felt like it would kill him because of Hyun Woojin.

At the airport, Haewon received his boarding pass and headed to the gate. He had no checked luggage, only a small suitcase and his violin. After passing through security, he waited in the airline lounge for his flight.

As night fell, the runway was filled with planes heading to various destinations around the world. Watching the planes take off and land, Haewon felt a rare excitement at the thought that going somewhere where his native language wasn’t spoken might help him stop thinking about Hyun Woojin.

He liked Thai food and usually visited Bangkok twice a year, though he hadn’t gone this year. It wasn’t for sightseeing or relaxing by Thailand’s beautiful beaches. He would spend his days in a five-star hotel, eating, sleeping, swimming, exercising, and consciously keeping his hands in practice on the violin without fully playing it.

“Should I try going to the beach this time instead of staying cooped up in the hotel? Soak up the sun, listen to the waves, do a sand bath, maybe ride a jet ski or a yacht.”

For a brief moment, Haewon wasn’t thinking about Hyun Woojin. Instead, he was preoccupied with whether to book a pool villa as he scrolled through his phone, searching for a decent hotel. That was when it happened.

“Excuse me.”

Haewon glanced up to see a flight attendant from the airline and an airport staff member standing before him. The flight attendant wore a bright smile as she asked, “Are you Moon Haewon, scheduled to fly to Bangkok on KE 653 departing at 6:20 PM?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he replied.

“We need you to come with us regarding your instrument,” said the airport staff member, their gaze fixed on the violin sitting beside him.

“What’s the issue?” Haewon asked, not bothering to change his posture as he continued browsing hotels.

“You didn’t declare your instrument, did you?”

“I even booked an extra seat for it. There shouldn’t be any problem,” Haewon sighed, setting his phone aside. He opened his bag to show his passport and boarding pass. Given the high value of his violin, Haewon always purchased an additional seat for it, ensuring it could travel safely in the cabin with him. He had encountered too many ignorant staff members at various airlines who insisted on checking it as cargo.

“We received a report from Daemyung Instrument Bank stating that the instrument cannot be taken out of the country,” the staff member explained cautiously.

“What are you talking about? This isn’t a loaner instrument; it’s my personal property. The insurance is under my name. You can verify it,” Haewon replied, irritation creeping into his voice.

He had recently traveled to China with no issues. Granted, that trip involved a private jet transporting over a hundred orchestra instruments in specially designed cases, but the departure process should have been the same.

“Staff from Daemyung Instrument Bank are on their way. Until they arrive, we’ll need you to delay your departure.”

Unbelievable.

Haewon felt a wave of indescribable frustration. Everything had been going wrong since breaking up with Hyun Woojin. It wasn’t just in his head—things were genuinely spiraling out of control. Nothing was going smoothly.

“Please come with us to our office to wait,” they suggested.

“I’m flying first class. This is the last flight to Bangkok today, and I’ve already booked my hotel. If I miss this flight, I’ll bill you for the daily cost. You’ll also need to rebook my ticket and hotel for the same quality,” Haewon stated coldly.

“We’ll resolve this as quickly as possible,” the staff member assured him.

“I booked two seats—one for me and one for my violin. The seats must be together,” Haewon added, gathering his violin and bag before standing.

Daemyung Cultural Foundation used its arts fund to purchase rare, high-value instruments, which it loaned to promising artists. Since these instruments were incredibly expensive to own and maintain, the foundation operated a system where musicians were selected through rigorous auditions or awarded instruments after winning competitions. The foundation managed and insured the instruments while benefiting from the prestige of supporting artists who achieved international acclaim.

However, Haewon’s violin was not part of this system. He had purchased it himself, making it his private property with no ties to Daemyung Group.

Sitting in the airport security office, Haewon waited for the misunderstanding to clear up. Traffic delays caused the Instrument Bank staff to arrive late, and the inspection process took even longer. Eventually, he missed his flight.

“We sincerely apologize for the misunderstanding. There’s another flight to Bangkok at the same time tomorrow, but the first-class seats are fully booked. Would it be acceptable if we arranged a business-class ticket instead?”

“…”

“We’re very sorry,” the airport security officer said, bowing deeply. The Instrument Bank staff, who had dismantled and thoroughly examined Haewon’s violin, also lowered their heads in apology.

Haewon stood in silence, hands in his pockets, listening to their apologies. Finally, he pulled out his phone.

“It’s me. Did you handle it?”

― Hey, you traitor! How could you tell them everything? Should I freeze your card? Report it as lost?

His father’s voice boomed through the phone.

“I’m at the airport right now. These idiots dismantled my violin, rummaged through it, and now they’re saying it was all a misunderstanding. I missed my flight, and they want me to fly business class tomorrow.”

― Why are you at the airport? And what’s with the violin?

“I was planning to go to Bangkok.”

― Why all of a sudden? Is there a performance?

“There was, but it got canceled because of these people. Send a lawyer. I want to claim all the losses and file criminal charges too.”

― Make sure you have the list of people involved. Is it okay if you go to Bangkok tomorrow instead?

His father asked with fatherly concern.

“It’s canceled, so why would I go? I’m not going. Suddenly, everything feels like a bother.”

― So fickle. I’ll send Lawyer Park right away, so just wait an hour.

“I can’t wait any longer. I’m going home. I’ll send you a picture of the business card, so tell them to contact that person.”

After ending the call with his father, Haewon asked an airport staff member for a business card. He took a photo of the card and sent it to his father. Then, he brushed aside the cautious hands of the instrument bank staff who were carefully repacking his violin and packed it himself. Childishly, he wanted to call Hyun Woojin and ask him to have all these people arrested.

Why does nothing ever work out?

The absurdity of the situation had numbed him. While being questioned—whether it was an investigation or an interrogation—over suspicions of smuggling high-value instruments, thoughts of Hyun Woojin had vanished from his mind. But soon enough, like the tide coming in, thoughts of him surged back.

He had tried meeting someone else to forget him, only to fall victim to something as horrifying as date-rape drugs, something he had never encountered before. Then, while trying to escape on a trip to forget, he was caught up in this ridiculous mess.

Ever since Hyun Woojin dumped him, nothing had gone right. Everything was a mess. His body, his mind, his entire life—everything was in shambles.

The only way to recover, he thought, was to meet Hyun Woojin again. He felt that if he could see him, everything would be restored. The thought, stubborn and irrational, refused to leave and dominated his consciousness.

He had to meet him again.

“I’m really sorry. Please forgive me.”

“You can talk to the lawyer when they arrive.”

“If you’re heading home, we can escort you.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just take a taxi.”

The sincere apology from the staff slightly softened his mood. Still, the feeling of walking out of the airport, unable to go anywhere while everyone else was leaving, was indescribably hollow. He got into a taxi and returned to his officetel, feeling like a fool. By now, he should have been flying over China.

Lying on his bed, he stared at photos of Hyun Woojin on his phone—photos he had deleted and restored four times—and cried miserably.

The saying that nothing ever works out wasn’t an exaggeration. It felt as though someone was deliberately sabotaging every attempt he made. A few days later, in an effort to forget his daily life, he headed to Gangwon-do, where his father’s resort was located.

He called for a long-distance taxi, but the roads were so congested that he found out it was due to a massive DUI checkpoint operation. The roads leading to Gangwon-do had turned into a literal parking lot, and the car couldn’t move an inch. Hearing from the taxi driver that it would be impossible to arrive today, Haewon had no choice but to turn back. After that, he didn’t want to do anything—not the resort or anything else.

∞ ∞ ∞

A drizzling rain fell.

While being questioned at the police station as a reference for Taeshin’s case, he had met him. That’s when he learned that the person Taeshin liked was Hyun Woojin. That was already last year.

A lot had happened since then. He met him again, pushed him away when he approached, fell for the kind and sincere man, and came to like him.

As autumn transitioned to winter, people carrying colorful umbrellas bustled about the streets.

Haewon left his house. Walking endlessly in the rain, he went to his officetel, soaked to the skin. Without entering the door lock code—one that likely no longer worked—he stood outside Hyun Woojin’s officetel and waited. He was doing something he had sworn never to do.

Even though he knew that Woojin often spent nights at the office and only came home briefly to shower and change clothes, he waited. He kept waiting. If he could just see him, even for a moment, that would be enough. He didn’t care if nothing else came of it; he just wanted to see his face.

His rain-soaked body began to shiver. A chill overtook him. His lips turned blue as he waited. He waited all night. Curled up in front of the door, he stayed there through the night. He dozed off briefly, then forced his heavy eyelids open, thinking he might freeze to death if he didn’t.

This damned Hyun Woojin finally appeared after 5 a.m., stepping out of the elevator. It would have been more dramatic if snow had been falling, leaving white layers on his hair and shoulders, but Haewon, drenched and pitiful, was crumpled in the hallway, barely managing to open his eyes to look at him.

Woojin, with a cold, expressionless face, glanced at him but proceeded to unlock the door and go inside.

The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

“…….”

Haewon had expected this, so he simply curled up tighter and shivered. His hands couldn’t afford to freeze—his body was part of the instrument, and any injury to his hands or feet could be devastating. Yet, despite knowing this, he trembled and stayed there. He wanted to make Woojin utterly sick of him, disgusted to the point where he couldn’t even bear to look at him.

He had seen him once, so he waited to see him a second time.

An overwhelming drowsiness crept over him, impossible to resist. The chill that had curled his toes and fingers was no longer noticeable. Haewon buried his face in his knees. Just as he was about to drift into sleep, the door suddenly burst open, and the man cursed as he pulled Haewon to his feet. His lips, pale and trembling, quivered involuntarily.

“…”

The man, frowning and glaring silently, grabbed Haewon and dragged him inside. His stiffened body was pulled along. The door shut behind him.

“On all fours,” the man muttered.

“What?”

Haewon was too shaken to respond. The officetel was filled with the warmth he had longed for. Finally able to quell his shivering, he managed to speak.

“I crawled here on all fours.”

“…”

“I want to make you sick of me… but how?”

“…”

Haewon hadn’t trusted him. He had criticized him for his actions, assumed he had toyed with Taeshin as well. Even when he told the truth, Haewon hadn’t believed him, misunderstanding him as if it were the natural thing to do.

Haewon hadn’t tried to understand his feelings at all. He only saw what he wanted to see and heard what he wanted to hear, interpreting things to fit his own perspective. He had ignored the unchanging and modest nature of someone who preferred to repurchase a familiar, comfortable car over a flashy, newly released one.

He had dismissed the passion of someone who worked and studied tirelessly through the night, pursuing his dreams rather than following his parents’ wishes, as mere ambition for power.

Haewon hadn’t appreciated his simplicity, his lack of interest in superficial appearances. He had only seen the surface, the shell of the person he wanted to see.

He hadn’t realized how much he liked him. Haewon didn’t even fully understand his own feelings.

He liked him. He liked him so much that he wanted to kneel here, beg, and plead if that’s what it took.

Moon Haewon liked Hyun Woojin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Haewon said.

“…”

“I was wrong. Prosecutor. Sunbae. Sir. Elder.”

“…”

“I’m really sorry.”

Embarrassingly, tears fell in heavy drops. Haewon couldn’t even remember the last time he had cried over something like this, but lately, he couldn’t stop crying because of Hyun Woojin. Thick tears rolled down his frozen cheeks.

He liked him too much to think objectively or logically. The situation left no room for anything but misunderstanding. That injustice made the tears fall even harder. If their positions were reversed, Hyun Woojin would have misunderstood him too.

Hyun Woojin had smashed Lee Jinyeong’s car and broken his nose, yet he ended things with Haewon because Haewon hadn’t trusted him, had judged him based on appearances, and treated him like trash. While Woojin was also at fault, that didn’t matter now. All Haewon wanted was to hold onto him.

“I… I was wrong,” Haewon managed to say, his voice trembling with suppressed sobs. Tears soaked his chest.

“Enough. Just go,” Woojin said.

“…”

“I said enough.”

“I… I was wrong.”

“…”

Woojin, who had been avoiding his gaze, finally looked at him. Haewon stared back with trembling eyes. His frozen body shuddered intermittently, and tears that had been welling up fell in heavy drops without even blinking.

Woojin, standing there with a cold expression, stepped closer. Haewon looked up at him, his lips trembling involuntarily.

“I was… wrong.”

Hyun Woojin grabbed his arm and pulled him forcefully. Haewon buried his face in Woojin’s chest, his face twisting in pain as he closed his eyes. Trembling from the cold, he wrapped his arms around Woojin’s waist.

“Why didn’t you use an umbrella?”

Woojin whispered something between a scold and a sigh into his ear, hugging Haewon tightly as if to squeeze the cold out of him. He rubbed Haewon’s shoulders and back, trying to warm him. Surrounded by Woojin’s warmth and scent, Haewon felt the tension leave his body as if his strength were draining away.

“I’m sorry,” Haewon whispered.

“It’s cold. Take off your shoes and come in,” Woojin replied.

Dragging his stiffened legs that barely moved, he followed where Hyun Woojin led him. After seating Haewon on the bed, Woojin placed Haewon’s cold, rigid hands against his own cheeks. When they didn’t warm up, he moved them to his neck, then tucked them under his shirt against his stomach.

“Why are you so wet? Did you walk here?”

“I just felt like walking.”

Leaving Haewon’s hands on his stomach, Woojin gently stroked his frozen cheeks and wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes. Sniffling, Haewon inhaled sharply.

“This won’t do. Come here.”

Woojin pulled back the covers and laid Haewon on the bed. He turned up the heating and brought a steaming cup of honey water. The thawing fingertips that had been frozen now tingled as they warmed. Haewon sniffled as he drank the tea. Woojin’s plan to briefly stop by, shower, and change clothes was thwarted by Haewon, who kept dripping with snot and tears.

Woojin removed Haewon’s coat, set it aside, and lay down beside him, pulling the thick bedding over both of them. He wrapped his arms tightly around Haewon, even trapping Haewon’s legs between his own. Enveloped entirely by him, Haewon pressed his lips to Woojin’s neck, inhaling deeply the scent that had made his bones ache with longing.

He had been someone who stared obsessively at photos on his phone just to see him and replayed voice recordings countless times just to hear his voice.

Uncontrollable tears streamed down, soaking the pillow. Woojin’s hand gently stroked the back of Haewon’s head and neck. Haewon had doubted this warm hand, misunderstood someone with such warmth. Clinging tightly to Woojin’s waist, Haewon rested his forehead against his shoulder.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t come?”

“I would’ve kept waiting. Until you came.”

“Are you rebelling, or is this a performance? Why are you still being so formal?”

“I’m reflecting because I was wrong.”

“Do you even know what you did wrong?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do wrong?”

“I misunderstood you and thought what I wanted. I didn’t trust you.”

“You thought I was trash?”

Woojin loosened his hold and pulled back to look down at Haewon. Their eyes met. Haewon’s trembling had stopped, and the cold that had seeped into his bones melted away, warmth spreading through his body. Haewon nodded in agreement.

“I thought you were crazy.”

At his words, Woojin let out a faint laugh of disbelief. Haewon leaned into the arms that embraced him again, pressing his cheek against Woojin’s collarbone and rubbing against it. His vision blurred like a shimmering haze. A hollow feeling pierced through Haewon’s chest.

The time, history, and identity that had shaped him seemed to corrode and vanish before Woojin. If Woojin had wanted to correct Haewon’s bad habits, he had succeeded. Haewon was no longer Moon Haewon. He wanted to belong to Hyun Woojin and was willing to let that happen.

“It must’ve seemed that way. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I lied unnecessarily and made you misunderstand,” Woojin said, his tone apologetic as if he regretted how his silence had led to mutual hurt.

“I’m sorry. From now on, I think I’ll cling to you,” Haewon said.

“Then cling.”

“I’ve never done that before, so I might go overboard.”

“Just let me work.”

“…No.”

“Get some sleep. Don’t think about anything right now.”

Woojin whispered softly. Determined not to let go, Haewon hugged him tightly, as if his life depended on it, holding on until his consciousness blurred and faded away.

∞ ∞ ∞

It was the flu. A severe bout of illness overwhelmed him. His fever burned so high that he couldn’t even tell whether Woojin was by his side. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this sick. Crying in front of a man, realizing he truly liked someone, and feeling pain that seemed to melt his entire being—all of it was new to him.

When he finally regained some awareness and opened his eyes, the white ceiling of a hospital room greeted him.

It was a quiet single-patient room. His throat dry, Haewon licked his parched lips, startled by how cracked and rough they felt, like licking a patch of dirt instead of skin.

He sat up and looked around, his gaze unfocused. Despite the humidifier’s mist filling the room, his throat felt painfully dry. He reached for the glass of water on the side table. Even half-full, the cup was so heavy that he had to use both hands to lift it.

Haewon managed to soothe his aching throat with a few sips of water. An IV was attached to his arm, steadily delivering medication. He pressed the call button by his bedside, and a nurse entered shortly after.

“Are you awake now? Let me check your blood pressure and temperature.”

The nurse measured Haewon’s blood pressure and temperature but didn’t say anything to suggest it was outside the normal range.

“When did I get here…?”

His voice was rough and cracked. The nurse mixed hot and cold water from the dispenser and handed him a warm glass. Haewon nodded in thanks and drank.

“Three days ago, Prosecutor Hyun Woojin brought you here. You know him, right? The second son of the hospital director.”

“…Yes.”

“You had a high fever until yesterday, but you seem fine today. I’ll bring your meal soon, so eat and take your medicine.”

“Sorry, but do you know where my phone might be?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen it. Hold on.”

The nurse opened various drawers where personal belongings were kept but didn’t find Haewon’s phone among them.

“Do you need to contact someone?”

“I want to call Woojin.”

“I doubt we have the prosecutor’s contact info here, and I can’t ask the director either.”

Looking troubled, the nurse searched once more for a phone that likely wasn’t there. Just then, a knock came, and the door opened.

“Doctor, you’re here? The patient is awake. His blood pressure and temperature are normal.”

The nurse greeted Choi Hyunmi cheerfully as she entered, wearing a white coat. Haewon bowed slightly to greet her, but even that small movement made his whole body ache.

“Haewon, are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Woojin was very worried about you. I think he stopped by this morning before heading to work.”

Dr. Choi placed her hand on Haewon’s forehead. The cool touch against his skin was refreshing, and her hand disappeared into the pocket of her white coat after checking his slight fever. Seeing Hyun Woojin’s mother made Haewon miss him desperately, to the point of impatience.

“You’re his junior, right? I heard Woojin took on the case involving that stalker.”

While some important details were missing, everything she said was true. Haewon nodded in agreement.

“Please bring some food for the patient, something soft,” Dr. Choi instructed the nurse, who quickly left the room after realizing she’d been lingering.

“Your parents are overseas, so you live alone? Woojin’s been so worried about you. That’s not like him at all.”

“I owe Sunbae a lot. I’ll make sure to repay him someday.”

Hearing that Hyun Woojin cared for him enough to worry, especially in front of his mother, filled Haewon with warmth, like a gentle spring breeze. The world suddenly seemed different.

It was astonishing how quickly things could change. The transformation felt monumental, as if the heavens and earth had shifted overnight. Haewon thought that even if he had knelt before Woojin, he wouldn’t have regretted it. Woojin was worth that much to him.

“Then will you play the violin for me again?”

“Sorry?”

“The violin. I’ve been listening to a lot of classical music lately. I even wrote down the pieces I want to hear on my phone.”

Dr. Choi pulled out her phone from her pocket.

“I’ll play for you once I’m feeling better.”

“Is it rude of me to ask? I really don’t know, so I’m just asking.”

“It’s not rude. And please speak casually. You’re Sunbae’s mother, but speaking formally feels awkward.”

If it had been anyone else, Haewon might have refused. But this was Woojin’s mother, the one who had given birth to someone so handsome, raised him so smartly, and brought him up to be upright. Haewon genuinely wanted to play for her.

“Oh, should I?”

“Yes.”

Haewon spent some quality time getting to know Dr. Choi better. Afterward, he ate a late lunch of porridge, took his medicine, and had a nap. When he woke up, he took a shower. Wearing the loose and plain hospital gown made him feel shabby and unkempt, so he scrubbed himself clean. Although swallowing still caused slight pain, by the time he had dinner, his condition had almost returned to normal.