C | Chapter 1.1 | The Stranger | Crack in the Ordinary

It just had to rain.

Ian Winchell stared absentmindedly at the raindrops collecting on the red rose he held. The misty drizzle came down thick and chilly, seeping into him until he shivered without even realizing it.

“Mom…”

Ian reached into a box of old memories he thought he’d forgotten and pulled out the biggest one—just two syllables in Korean.

‘Mom…’

That was it. He had nothing more to say to the mother who had chosen suicide two days ago. Maybe it was something to be relieved about now that it was over. Whether it was him, left alone, or his mother, who had left him behind and gone ahead.

That tiny shred of affection had dried up long ago, back when his stepfather was mysteriously murdered in their home. After that, his mother had completely changed.

Consumed by depression, madness, suicidal urges, and a murderous desire that he could no longer handle. Before Ian knew it, any love he had for her had evaporated.

She was no longer his mother—she had become something else.

After his stepfather died, everything vanished—the family, the home, and the cozy dreams they had once promised.

At fifteen, Ian had been left with insomnia that seemed trivial compared to the violent loss of it all. After the dismal and hurried funeral, Ian, cold and starving, pressed his purple lips to the tombstone.

“Mom, you’ll be okay now.”

The stark red rose slipped from his pale hand.

“Rest in peace.”

Finally, Ian turned to leave. His black suit and hair were drenched, clinging to him like a dark shadow that weighed down his steps.

Days passed.

Ian winced at the sunlight piercing his eyelids, pulling the sheet over his head. It was a mistake not to draw the curtains before he finally drifted off in the early morning. But as he tried to ignore the morning and hide under the covers, Ian realized the sun wasn’t the only thing waking him; The doorbell had been ringing for some time.

With a sigh, Ian dragged himself out of bed. Barely awake, he stumbled downstairs wearing only boxers and opened the door with half-closed eyes. The face on the other side was unexpected: it was Lloyd Gillen, his stepfather’s lawyer.

“Ah, I seem to have woken you. Apologies,” Lloyd remarked, though he entered with a stride that showed he wasn’t waiting for an invitation. Ian knew he should probably ask why the lawyer, who hadn’t even attended his mother’s funeral, was here now. But he just let him in without a word.

Lloyd’s shoulder brushed against Ian’s bare chest, and for a fleeting moment, a dark smile appeared on his face, disappearing too quickly for anyone else to catch. He covered it smoothly with his usual composed expression.

“Mind if we chat over coffee?”

Lloyd strolled toward the kitchen as if he were home, walking too briskly for Ian’s groggy state. Ian followed him slowly, still a bit unsteady on his feet.

“There’s none left,” Ian muttered.

“No coffee?” Lloyd stopped short at the empty cupboard with a grimace. “What about the fridge?”

Without hesitation, he swung open the refrigerator and freezer doors, only to find them just as empty. Lloyd clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“If I’d known, I would have come sooner. When I heard you had returned, I was quite busy at the time, you see.”

His tone was oddly caring, as if he were genuinely concerned. The absurdity struck Ian—he hadn’t seen Lloyd since his stepfather’s funeral. Crossing to the sink, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water, taking a long, deep drink as the morning clarity gradually settled in. Finally, he looked at his stepfather’s lawyer, a man he hadn’t seen in four years.

“Would you like some water?”

Lloyd’s eyes lingered on him, his lips looking almost dry. He stared at Ian with a gaze that was so parched, so hungry, it made Ian shudder instinctively. He recognized that look well–the way men’s eyes could undress him without even laying a finger on him. It was just that he hadn’t expected it from someone like Lloyd, his stepfather’s long-time friend.

If looks could strip away clothes, Lloyd’s gaze would’ve left him bare right there. Ian twisted his lips slightly, trying to mask his fear. Now, even his late stepfather’s friend was another person to guard against in his life.

Disgusting pervert.

“Water?” Lloyd sneered. “Bold of you to offer tap water.”

“There’s nothing else to drink.”

“Fine, then. I suppose I’ll have to grab a coffee at the office later.”

Lloyd shrugged and pulled a chair from the counter, gesturing for Ian to sit across from him. Reluctantly, Ian joined him.

“I’ll get straight to the point. What are your plans for this house?”

Ian glanced around the kitchen, taking it in as though he were seeing it for the first time. The house was grand and spacious, once even being featured in an interior magazine, but now it felt hauntingly empty with only him inside.

“I… haven’t really thought about it,” he admitted

“You should. The bank isn’t going to wait around for you.”

Ian stared at him, feeling slightly annoyed by the lecture. Lloyd had stopped coming to this house after his stepfather’s funeral, which made sense. As his stepfather’s lawyer, he’d had no reason to stick around once it became clear that the family estate barely covered the debts. After that, all his family had left was this oversized, now meaningless house, and even that was leveraged for loans when his mother’s health deteriorated. Ian had learned the extent of it all after his first semester in college, at which point he’d taken a leave to start working part-time jobs just to cover the bank interest.

This house held no meaning for him now that his mother was gone, either. But Lloyd’s lecture seemed rushed as if he didn’t care that the rain on his mother’s grave had barely dried.

“Why not sell it?”

Some things that make sense are nonsensical when poorly timed and Lloyd’s suggestion felt like one of those instances. Ian frowned slightly.

“You can’t pay it off. All your parents left behind is debt, and the bank knows that. I’m guessing they’ll call to demand repayment by today. Do you want me to check for you?”

Ian stared sharply into Lloyd’s deep green eyes.

“Do you… want this house?”

“…What?”

Lloyd’s laugh came a beat too late, sounding overly exaggerated.

“Hardly. You seem to think I’m some kind of monster, but I’m not that low. This house? Not bad, but a place this big is ridiculous for a bachelor like me.”

Ian didn’t bother pointing out the way Lloyd was leaning just a little too close, his knee brushing against Ian’s. Lloyd wasn’t exactly a moral man, nor someone Ian could trust without any contractual obligation. Ian could almost imagine Lloyd casually suggesting they go to bed, just like that, only three days after the funeral.

“I’ll think about it… later. Right now, I can’t focus on anything.”

Ian gave a subtle cue that he wanted Lloyd gone.

“Oh, come on, Pretty One.”

Lloyd placed a familiar hand on Ian’s shoulder, using the nickname he had called him when Ian was a child. It hadn’t felt uncomfortable back then, but now the term, laced with a suggestive tone, crawled over his skin like an insect. Ian simply watched him, neither accepting nor rejecting the hand. Lloyd’s fingertips stroked Ian’s skin ever so slightly.

“Just because your parents are gone doesn’t mean you have to act like an adult, you know? You’re still young. You can rely on the people around you. I might seem distant now, but remember, you’re still my friend’s son. It’s not a bad thing; trust me.”

“Thud!” Ian slapped Lloyd’s hand off his shoulder. Lloyd frowned, clearly displeased.

“What was that?”

“Don’t touch me. I’m not half-naked for you,” Ian said, his tone biting.

Lloyd chuckled, his face a mask of restrained amusement.

“Oh, Pretty One, I’m just…,” he began, but Ian cut him off.

“If I’m selling the house, I’ll go through a broker, not you. They’ll probably be cheaper than a lawyer’s fee. If that’s all you want, you can leave. I need more sleep.”

Lloyd’s smile deepened, his expression intensifying with something Ian couldn’t quite name. Despite being in his early forties, Lloyd was well-maintained, almost too perfect, which sent a chill down Ian’s spine. It was disturbing to realize that Lloyd’s appearance hadn’t changed since Ian had first met him at ten years old, as if obsessive perfectionism had preserved him.

Lloyd leaned in closer, so much so that his nose nearly brushed Ian’s skin.

“You used to be so… obedient. Adorable, even. I suppose Marcus didn’t protect you well enough.”hn

The words crawled under Ian’s skin, and the distaste made his stomach turn. He pushed the glass off the counter, and it shattered on the floor.

“A bit of a cat now, hmm? Showing your claws.”

Ian’s narrowed gaze did nothing to conceal his disgust.

“Leave.”

“I was Marcus’s friend.”

“Yes, and you weren’t friends with my mother or me. You didn’t even come to the funeral.”

“Is that why you’re upset? I was on a business trip. Believe me, I would have been there if I could.”

Whether that was true or not was anyone’s guess. With lawyers, the line between truth and lies was often blurred.

“It’s not too late; you can visit her grave on your way out.”

“Ian…”

Lloyd’s hand landed on his shoulder again, stopping him from turning away.

“Maybe I didn’t start this conversation the best way, but I genuinely want to help you. Sell the house, and at least you’ll have enough left to cover the hospital bills…”

“Get your hand off me!”

The words left Ian’s mouth with more force than he knew he had. Normally, he avoided confrontation, preferring to navigate situations without getting heated. But this was different—he felt a sudden, uncontrollable anger.

“What’s this about?” Lloyd asked, looking almost amused as if Ian’s anger fascinated him.

“Are you… reacting to my touch? Tell me, are you feeling something?”

Ian took a deep breath, clamping down on his urge to yell. Filthy bastard. Like hell I’d get aroused by some creepy old pervert like you. Even dealing with guys like you in passing is enough to make me sick.

“If you keep touching me, I’ll sue.”

Lloyd’s smile turned wicked, his eyes filled with a dark amusement.

“You know I’m a lawyer, right?”

“Yes, a famous one. The local media would have a field day with this. It might even make me some money. I wonder how much you’re worth.”

“Did you act this defiant with Marcus too? Surprising that this house has held up all this time.”

“My stepfather was a gentleman. Not all friends have to be alike.”

“Ha, Marcus, a gentleman?” Lloyd’s eyes held a cunning gleam.

“You still have a lot to learn. That’s… what makes you so charming.”

The sharpness in Lloyd’s grin felt like it could bite through flesh. Ian’s instincts screamed that he needed a weapon. He quickly scanned the kitchen, hoping for something sharp within reach.

The counter drawer might have a fork or wine opener. He would have to be fast and quiet.

And the thought of not being fully dressed, of being so unprotected right now, made him wish he’d taken better care of himself, even with the exhaustion of the last few days.

“You’ve got that look like you finally understand why adults can be scary. Good expression, kid,” Lloyd said, reaching toward Ian as if to pat him on the head.

Ian yanked open the drawer with a loud bang. Just as he grasped a sharp object inside, the phone rang.

“Well now,” Lloyd said, stretching as he picked up the kitchen’s handset, handling it like he’d done many times before as Ian’s stepfather’s lawyer.

“Lawyer Lloyd Gillen here. Yes, who’s calling?”

Ian couldn’t hear the other end, but Lloyd obligingly repeated what he heard.

“Ah, AC Bank? Yes, about the loan?… Sure, I’ll pass the message along.”

Instead of hanging up, he handed the phone to Ian.

“It’s the bank. Feel free to confirm the call. They should have a record.”

When Ian didn’t answer, Lloyd looked almost smug.

“They want to renegotiate the repayment terms. Apparently, you’re two months behind on the interest. They said you need to come in soon. When would be convenient?”

Ian’s debts weren’t just to the bank. There were also unpaid hospital bills for his mother’s treatment, andclinic had called several times, unable to process her checks. The part-time job Ian had at a small downtown restaurant barely covered basic expenses. He might have gone bankrupt long ago if not for side gigs he’d rather not report to the IRS.

“Let me help, Ian.”

Lloyd’s voice grew more insistent as he read Ian’s expression.

“Then you won’t have anything to worry about. Just leave the house to me, and I’ll take care of it all.”