C | Chapter 2.1 | Resumption | Crack in the Pause

The top-floor suite, which included a guest room, also featured a terrace and an indoor pool. Because of that, Ian couldn’t indulge in the luxury of enjoying the view below from the 19th floor while relaxing in the jacuzzi, but that didn’t mean the hotel’s design was flawed. After all, the scenery of this small city wouldn’t exactly suit the elegance of this suite. In that sense, the suite where the man was staying had everything the hotel could offer without leaving anything out.

For these reasons, Ian’s bath time ended up being shorter than expected. He abruptly lifted his body from the hot water, which kept lulling him into drowsiness. The large bathtub was pleasant, but it was so boring he felt like he could fall asleep.

After drying his hair roughly and putting on a bathrobe, Ian left the bathroom and found the man sitting alone in the living room. Unlike Ian, who had enjoyed a leisurely bath, the man hadn’t changed much aside from swapping out his blood-stained shirt. He was seated at the minibar, positioned to overlook the pool, with a drink in hand.

Dark hair contrasting with piercing blue eyes. A tall, lean, and solid build that perfectly suited his height. Late twenties to early thirties. A mysterious foreigner with an unusual penchant for charity work.

These were the few things Ian knew about the man. And he wanted to know more.

“…”

The man glanced at Ian as he emerged from the bathroom, took a sip of his drink without a word, his neck tilting back to reveal the bandage wrapped around it. Maybe it was because Ian knew the man was injured saving him, but the strange, suffocating fear that had overwhelmed him earlier was gone. The man hurt himself to save Ian; he must have had his reasons. Ian was curious about those reasons. Running away in fear wouldn’t get him any answers.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Ian approached him.

“Can I have a drink too?”

This time, the man hesitated, then opened the fridge, pulled out a can of soda, and tossed it to Ian. Reflexively catching it, Ian’s lips twisted in slight amusement.

“I didn’t exactly mean soda.”

“You don’t look old enough for alcohol.”

The man’s curt response stirred a slight irritation in Ian.

“I’m 19.”

“Still too young.”

“Says who? State law doesn’t seem to think so.”

“I’m a foreigner.”

“But this is my country.”

“I bought the drinks with my money.”

“…”

Ian lost, again.

He set down the can the man had given him with a slight scowl.

“For someone who can afford a suite like this, you sure are stingy about small change.”

The man spun his backless chair around to face Ian. Ian suddenly noticed just how contradictory his physique was—he could clearly see the muscles beneath his shirt, the firm power of those muscles as they’d pressed against him. Yet, the man moved with a fluidity, as if he were water flowing.

“I’m mindful of how I spend my money. I don’t want to waste it on giving alcohol to a kid.”

Now that the fear was gone, Ian realized just how stunning the man’s appearance truly was. If he didn’t keep himself tense, he felt like his gaze might betray something unintended.

“Maybe that’s just your prejudice against Asians. You don’t realize my keen eye for things.”

“I think a bit of caution might do you good. Being alone in a hotel with a strange man, wearing only a robe and asking for alcohol—that’s hardly wise.”

He called himself a “stranger,” yet his words showed he was genuinely concerned for Ian’s well-being. So, while it irritated Ian, it also gave him a shallow sense of superiority.

“Are you admitting you’re having other thoughts about me? Didn’t you say earlier that wasn’t the case? Was that a lie?”

The man’s shoulders tensed briefly, but then he sipped his drink as if nothing had happened.

“Take a look in the mirror. You’d be embarrassed to say something like that with such a kid’s face.”

The superiority evaporated, leaving only frustration. Ian found himself wanting to line up all the idiots who’d never remembered his name and shove their faces into the ground. Men’s attention was always so excessive. There were times when he’d wished they’d all disappear from the earth without a trace. Ian had never thought he’d one day despise a person’s indifferent gaze so much, a gaze devoid of any interest in him.

I’m the one being stupid. What would I do if he actually did like me?

Before he could think of an answer, his lips moved first.

“Then why are you doing this for me?”

Ian snapped, irritated.

“If you’re not some pervert like the idiots who hover around me, then why do all this charity work for me? Even going so far as to spy on me first. You can’t possibly expect me to believe there’s no ulterior motive.”

Thud.

At those words, the man set his glass down on the table with a sharp sound. His expression didn’t change, but the clumsy noise revealed a shift in his mood. He spoke slowly, his tone unchanged, yet Ian felt as though he was angry.

“So you think I’m doing all this because I’m turned on by your little kid’s body?”

“…”

“Turned on? By you?”

The words were laced with contempt. Ian couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or at the man himself for saying such things. The cold, harsh tone made Ian feel nervous. He bit down on his tongue and forced himself not to close his eyes.

“Then… if not, tell me why. Just tell me the reason.”

“I made it clear that there were conditions to my charity.”

Don’t ask further.

The glass in the man’s hand, clenched as if it could snap, seemed to be saying that. Ian closed his mouth.

“Get some rest. Use the phone if you need anything.”

The man rose to his feet, clearly intending to end the conversation. As he turned to leave, Ian quickly called out.

“You said it was okay if I figured things out on my own!”

The man barely turned his head.

“Then at least tell me your name. I need that much to get started.”

The piercing blue eyes bore into Ian. His gaze was so clear, almost painfully focused, that it seemed to slice away any stray thoughts. Locking eyes with him always felt like it took forever. During that time, Ian could do nothing but stare back, utterly captivated.

“Revenant Matthias.”

The name sounded foreign, unfamiliar. Ian glared at him, mouthing each syllable as if carving the name onto the man’s face.

“I’ll make sure to find out just how much I can uncover.”

To Ian’s surprise, the man gave a brief smile. It vanished in an instant, and Ian couldn’t decipher its meaning, but it somehow made him freeze.

“Go ahead, try.”

The man disappeared.

Ian realized he had been holding his breath, standing there frozen. His ears felt warm. His cheeks, too.

He suddenly realized that he had been blushing from the man’s smile, standing there like a fool, dumbstruck.

Alone in the hotel room, Ian opened his broken laptop. As expected, a long crack ran across the screen, and though he could hear the boot-up sound, the display wouldn’t turn on.

“This is driving me crazy.”

He tapped the keyboard in frustration before finally closing it. It needed repairs. The broken laptop was practically all he had left. Since he didn’t trust cloud PCs provided by companies, all the hacking tools he had gathered over the years were saved on this laptop. He had an external hard drive, but it had been in the house that caught fire, so he couldn’t guarantee its safety.

Ian rose from the table.

He couldn’t just lounge around in a comfortable hotel room. He needed to check on his house, see if there was any way to fix his laptop, and figure out what his life would look like from here. Meeting Tim Hogan was his first priority.

“Damn. But I can’t go out looking like this.”

Wearing the hotel’s bathrobe outside was not an option. But rummaging through the man’s bedroom to borrow his clothes without permission wasn’t right either. And now that the man had left the hotel, there was no way to ask for permission. Ian was alone in the large suite with only the broken laptop he’d clung to in the emergency room.

With no other ideas, Ian recalled what the man had said before leaving.

“If you need anything, use the phone.”

Ian assumed he meant the hotel’s room service. Since this was the top-floor suite, the room service options were bound to be high-quality. Ian went back to the bed, picked up the phone, and dialed.

After a brief beep, a young man’s voice answered.

“What can I help you with?”

Now that he had to actually ask for something, Ian hesitated.

“Uh, well… I don’t have anything suitable to wear outside. Do you happen to offer any clothing rental services?”

There was a pause before the response came.

“Are you planning to go out?”

“Yes. Is there a problem with that?”

“Where are you headed?”

Ian’s brow furrowed slightly.

Why was the hotel asking him something like this just for borrowing clothes? Were they planning to match his outfit to the dress code?

“If you’re asking if I need a tuxedo or a suit, no. I just need something casual.”

“Understood. Please wait a moment.”

After hanging up the receiver, Ian waited just over five minutes before the doorbell rang. Impressed by the quick service, he approached the door. But before he could even touch the doorknob, the door opened from the other side.

“…?”

Curiously looking on, Ian saw someone enter. It wasn’t a hotel staff member in uniform, but the man’s subordinate, the one who had brought the car to the hospital. He was carrying several glossy shopping bags in each hand.

“I’ve brought clothes. Let me know if you don’t like any of them.”

He placed the bags on a nearby console. Even in that simple act, it was clear how precise and disciplined he was. He’d opened the door but didn’t seem to intend to step inside the suite.

“Oh… thank you. But—”

“Once you’re ready, please call. I’ll have the car waiting.”

“What?”

Ian was about to ask if this was a hotel service.

“A car?”

Surely, they weren’t talking about the long limousine they’d arrived in, were they? Such a car would barely be able to turn around in the narrow alleys of the Harem District, where Tim Hogan’s studio was.

“Would you prefer a different mode of transportation?”

He answered reflexively.

“Yes, a subway pass. Can I borrow five dollars from Mr. Matthias?”

“If it’s a subway-accessible area, a vehicle can get you there.”

The man’s tone suggested that Ian’s choice was only due to his unfamiliarity with the route. Ian didn’t bother pointing out that he wasn’t the foreigner here.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

He didn’t hide his now-sharp expression either. Matthias’s so-called charity was too persistent to be merely fickle goodwill. The fact that he wouldn’t explain his reasons made it even harder to trust. Few people would accept such suspicious kindness so readily.

“You wouldn’t consider it a burden.”

“Why not? Who am I, exactly?”

The man smoothly sidestepped the question.

“I was instructed to provide whatever you need to the best of my ability. I’m simply doing my job, so please don’t overthink it. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

He took a step backward and exited the suite without turning his back. The door closed with an unnaturally polite click, almost as if he were wearing clothes that didn’t fit him.

“What… the hell is this?”

Ian opened the shopping bags left by the man. Inside each bag was a couple of large, neatly stacked boxes. As he opened each box, he found clothes folded neatly inside. Even the simplest striped hoodie and jeans were packed this way. What truly baffled him was that packaging these items must have taken more than five minutes. It felt like these clothes, tailored to Ian’s size, had been prepared in advance.

Out of curiosity, he checked the labels. The brands were unfamiliar, with names long and foreign-looking, not in English. When he finally recognized a brand, he was even more astonished. The price of a thin T-shirt was higher than the laptop he’d bought two years ago.

“…”

Questions swirled in his mind.

This wasn’t charity. Revenant Matthias’s excessive and questionable kindness indicated some connection between them. As he stared at the absurdly expensive clothes, as if expecting him to need them, Ian muttered under his breath.

“Fine. Let’s see what I am to you.”

What you are to me. And who exactly you are.

After choosing an outfit, Ian picked up the phone.