DD Chapter 1.2

Standing side by side, Han-young realized Shin Jae-yi was much taller than he’d thought. Despite his delicate face, his body was sharp and fierce. His graceful movements could easily mislead people, but his frame stood out more than anyone’s. Being this close to him felt… intimidating. Maybe it was his aura—he gave off a kind of overwhelming presence.

Just when the silence between them was starting to feel heavy, Jae-yi looked down at him. A gust of wind blew, ruffling his hair. The sight was so surreal, for a moment, Han-young forgot all about Choi Jung-woo.

“Why do you keep staring?”

“You’re tall…”

The words slipped out, dazed. Jae-yi’s expression turned unreadable.

“Not because I’m good-looking?”

“You are good-looking.”

“Mm. You’re pretty too.”

Jae-yi murmured, eyes crinkling with a hint of a smile. Because of the cigarette, his words came out slightly muffled.

“What’s with that face?”

Han-young couldn’t hide his expression. Of all people, hearing he was pretty from Shin Jae-yi… made him feel weirdly unsettled.

“It just feels strange… hearing that from you, sunbae.”

“What’s so strange about it? It’s a compliment. Just take it.”

Shin Jae-yi muttered indifferently, averting his gaze. Even as he stared straight ahead, chewing on the cigarette filter with a bored expression, he still looked refined.

“Why aren’t you smoking?”

“Did you break up?”

He answered his question with a question of his own—one that took things in an unwelcome direction.

“I don’t understand what you mean…”

Han-young forced a smile, trying to suppress the twitch that threatened to betray his discomfort.

“Your boyfriend was even playing knight in shining armor. Oh—unless you’ve got a girlfriend and a boyfriend?”

Jae-yi tilted his chin toward the bar as he added the remark. Han-young’s expression froze. He tried to hide it, but his failure was obvious—and Jae-yi caught it right away.

“Jung-woo’s a bit inconsiderate, huh? Having his lover right there and all.”

Jae-yi chuckled lightly, his voice like music as he whispered.

Han-young felt his heart lurch at the comment, biting the inside of his cheek. Before he could even be angry about what Jae-yi had said about Choi Jung-woo, he was already caught up in wondering why Jae-yi was saying these things at all.

Was he bringing up the fact that he was seeing a man just to mock him? To judge him? To point fingers?

But if that was the case…

“……”

There was no malice in his light laughter or his voice—if anything, there was a trace of warmth. Or maybe Han-young just wanted to believe that and was deluding himself.

As he stood frozen in this unfamiliar situation, unsure how to react, Jae-yi remained silent, his gaze wandering idly.

“Um, sunbae… what you saw earlier—”

“What did I see?”

“Back in the alley… didn’t you see?”

“Hmm. Not sure.”

Despite the tangled mess of thoughts in his head, Han-young managed to respond with surprising calm. Jae-yi’s reaction, in turn, was vague—he played dumb with startling ease. It was enough to make Han-young wonder if Jae-yi had genuinely seen nothing, just fishing for a reaction.

While Han-young blinked, caught off guard, Jae-yi looked at him again—direct and unrestrained. His gaze was cool and calculating, like he was measuring something. That piercing look pressed down on him like a weight, and it was hard to escape it.

As the nerves under his skin bristled under the ambiguous scrutiny, Jae-yi finally spoke.

“You should be more careful.”

“……”

“You shouldn’t be so quick to answer people like that.”

Jae-yi averted his gaze again, speaking in the tone one might use with a child.

Only then did Han-young let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. As silence fell between them again, he tried to make sense of Jae-yi’s words.

Did that mean it was okay to answer him?
Was he trying to say he’d keep the secret…?

Shin Jae-yi, who had been staring blankly ahead, finally made a sound after several minutes—his previously impeccable posture breaking for the first time in a way that was almost awe-inspiring.

“Got a light?”

As he leaned forward, the distance between them closed instantly. Their eyes met at close range. A faint trace of a smile lingered in Jae-yi’s clear gaze.

He held the cigarette between his lips without lighting it, as if waiting to see how the other person would react.

“……”

Should I… light it for him myself?

Trapped in his gaze and hesitation, Han-young eventually handed over the lighter. Jae-yi glanced down at the tacky yellow lighter and let out a silent chuckle as he reached for it. His large hand brushed Han-young’s fingers lightly as he took it—just a touch, but it was enough to send a tingling spark along Han-young’s skin, like a flicker of fire striking where they met.

Click. Click.
The cheap plastic lighter didn’t spark right away. Still, Jae-yi handled it like it was something precious. He tilted his head slightly down, his eyes cast low as he lit the end of his cigarette.

He took a deep drag, then exhaled the smoke slowly to the side. Even when he switched the cigarette to his other hand, he chose the one farthest from Han-young, not the side closer—even though they were both smokers standing next to each other.

Watching him, Han-young suddenly saw an image of Choi Jung-woo overlaying Jae-yi. His mind drifted back to when Jung-woo had come here, replaying what he’d done. But strangely, that only made Han-young stare at Shin Jae-yi again.

Maybe it was around that moment—when Jae-yi tilted his head slightly, and their eyes met again.

“Han-young.”

The soft way he said his name seemed to echo in the air. And in that moment, Han-young thought to himself how oddly ticklish it felt to hear his name spoken in that voice.

“Should I lend myself to you?”

Through the thin veil of cigarette smoke, Jae-yi’s red lips curved into a slow smile.

He didn’t say anything else, just kept quietly smoking, as if waiting for an answer. Han-young blinked slowly, struggling to process the situation.

So… you know my name.
That was the only useless realization that floated up in his mind.

“…I don’t really understand what you mean by that.”

“Exactly what I said.”

Jae-yi exhaled a long stream of smoke as he spoke.

“I’m offering to lend myself to you. What you do with something you borrow is up to you.”

He referred to himself as an object with such ease, so naturally that it didn’t even leave room to feel uncomfortable.

“Whether you take me right here or leave with me now—either way, wouldn’t it feel less like a waste?”

He flicked the ash from his cigarette and jerked his chin toward the bar. His laugh that followed was low and vulgar.

Ah… Choi Jung-woo…

It was only then that Han-young finally understood what Shin Jae-yi had meant. His lips parted slightly, but he was still thrown off—unsure of Jae-yi’s true intentions.

To say something like that to someone who just mentioned they were seeing a guy…
What did he think that would sound like?

“Do you like men, sunbae?”

“Do I look like I do?”

The light counterquestion, almost amused, was more of a definite answer than anything else.

“Then why are you saying things like that?”

“Is that really important?”

After Han-young fired off the string of questions and gave a small nod, Shin Jae-yi’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“Hm…”

“……”

“In return for borrowing your lighter?”

He lifted the cigarette in his hand and grinned. The explanation was far from enough to make sense of the situation. And perhaps sensing Han-young’s displeasure, he let out a quiet breath of laughter.

“Reasons are easy to come up with. You looked troubled, I happened to be bored. And maybe… I just don’t like how this situation feels.”

His words were light—so light—but not entirely weightless. They filled the air with an oddly rich tone.

“Is that good enough for you?”

Shin Jae-yi asked as he took another drag from the now-short cigarette. His gaze, lowered as he spoke, had lost its earlier sharpness and settled into something more languid. He, who had seemed disinterested inside the bar, now looked visibly entertained—as if he were a spectator enjoying some little play.

Either way, the one who had to respond now was Han-young.

But Jae-yi didn’t press him for an answer. He simply let his gaze linger.

Han-young stared back at him, but then found it oddly difficult to keep his eyes locked with his. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the small tear-shaped mole under Jae-yi’s left eye.

“……”

That small black mark was the only blemish on an otherwise flawless face. It looked, in a way, like a tiny star. Even that mark, which caught his unfocused gaze, resembled a star. He couldn’t help but think it was… quite beautiful.

After today, whenever Han-young thought of Shin Jae-yi, he was sure to picture that mole—like a star—etched under his eye. The image was that striking. It was almost absurd that he had only just now noticed it.

“……”

Yeah. This was the extent of their relationship. They knew absolutely nothing about each other. So shallow, it couldn’t even be called a “relationship” in any real sense.

And in a dynamic like this, could a conversation like the one they were having even make sense?

“I’m a little embarrassed I might’ve looked pathetic in front of you, but really, you don’t need to help me.”

Not at all. Nothing could ever truly form between the two of them.

With that conclusion, Han-young gave a faint, deliberately nonchalant smile and scratched the back of his neck. The skin beneath his palm felt lukewarm. The faint embarrassment had warmed his skin. No matter how good your temperament, it was hard to feel pleased about looking foolish in front of someone you’d only just met.

“We can handle our own matters. It’s something that can be resolved with just a conversation.”

Shin Jae-yi effortlessly covered rudeness with politeness, wielding it with ease. His intrigued goodwill felt more like a handout than genuine concern.

“Even if that weren’t the case, I’m not the type to meddle in other people’s messes.”

“You’re kind.”

A flicker of intense emotion, born from having a sore spot exposed, slipped into Han-young’s voice at the end. Shin Jae-yi noticed, yet remained perfectly composed. He simply let out a deflated laugh and murmured the word. He was so casual about it, it made Han-young feel silly for getting prickly in the first place.

“Alright.”

With a cheerful response, Shin Jae-yi dropped his spent cigarette into a portable ashtray. And just like that, the conversation ended. He turned away like someone with no lingering interest in the moment.

Han-young, who’d been defensively on edge out of instinct, suddenly felt drained, dazedly watching him leave.

What the hell… Is he just leaving like that?
He’d braced himself for ridicule or some kind of veiled threat—anything unpleasant to follow. But Shin Jae-yi’s attitude was so plain, almost indifferent, that even Han-young’s emotions seemed to wither away.

“Um, but…”

The words slipped out unconsciously.

To his surprise, Shin Jae-yi stopped in place. He didn’t fully turn around, but twisted slightly to the side and met his gaze.

“How did you know my name?”

Whatever answer he’d expected, it clearly wasn’t this. For a moment, Shin Jae-yi’s expression turned unreadable. He blinked slowly, then offered a faint smile.

“I know more than just your name.”

“What?”

“You look cold. Aren’t you going?”

He filled the silence with another question. His gaze never left Han-young’s, leaving no room to respond immediately. Caught in that stare, Han-young eventually took a step forward.

What did he mean by “more than just your name”?

As he replayed that ambiguous remark in his head, his body moved on its own, steps falling into place without thought. After a few paces, Shin Jae-yi suddenly reached out an arm.

“Careful. There’s water ahead.”

“Oh.”

Looking down, Han-young saw he’d nearly stepped onto a soaked flyer—the one Choi Jeong-woo had trampled earlier.

Shin Jae-yi gently held his arm and pulled him aside. At that moment, the wind picked up, ruffling his hair. A subtle scent tickled Han-young’s nose—faint, pleasant, and distinctly him.

It didn’t match the dark, musty alley they stood in. Even though he had been smoking just moments ago, it smelled surprisingly nice. Unlike Choi Jeong-woo, whose overpowering cologne often caused headaches, Shin Jae-yi’s scent was understated and refined.

“Ah, thank you…”

“Mm.”

His answer, more of a drawn-out hum than a word, came without fuss. He turned again, no longer looking back. As he stepped away, the cardigan he wore swayed gently behind him. Somehow, even that fluttering hem managed to pull the eye—everything about him seemed to.

Staring at Shin Jae-yi’s broad back beyond the knit cardigan, Han-young slowly lowered his gaze to his shoes. Thanks to Shin Jae-yi, they were still clean—untouched by the dirty water he had nearly stepped into. Had he stepped directly into that puddle, they would’ve been a mess for sure.

“……”

The shredded flyer caught his eye again. The soggy scraps floating in the puddle oddly gnawed at his mind. And just beside it, his sneaker precariously teetered on the edge of the water.

He doesn’t give straight answers, but he kept my shoes clean. He oversteps his bounds so easily, yet shows not even a hint of disgust.

“He really sweats the small stuff…”

Han-young muttered under his breath, reflecting on Shin Jae-yi’s strangely biased kindness. His toes pressed firmer into the ground.

He lingered in that fleeting moment for several seconds, then purposefully stepped only on the dry patches. As if following Shin Jae-yi’s path, he traced the exact steps the other had taken as he walked on.

By the time he stepped into the bar, it already seemed like they were preparing to move to the second round. Choi Jeong-woo glanced up for a moment as Han-young approached the table, but didn’t say much. Shin Jae-yi, it seemed, had already left.

After sitting for a while, Han-young excused himself before they could head to the next location. Normally, he’d stay till the end, but today, he just wanted to rest. He didn’t even want to see Choi Jeong-woo’s face anymore—laughing and chatting like nothing happened.

Outside, the streets were still noisy. The aftermath of the semester-opening party had filled every bar and pub to the brim.

“Where should we go for the second round? Gamjatang?”

“Gamjatang’s for the third round, man.”

Han-young leisurely headed in the opposite direction of the noise. His place wasn’t far from the back gate, so he figured a walk would help him sober up.

With every step, the buzz of the crowd faded into silence.

It didn’t take long to enter a quiet residential neighborhood. Tonight, for once, the calm was welcome. It rode the wind and washed over him gently.

Step, step. His footsteps echoed evenly, keeping rhythm with the formless thoughts taking shape in his mind. In place of other people, the thoughts drifted in and filled the space.

Among them, the clearest was Shin Jae-yi.

Han-young looked at the long shadow stretching before him and thought of Shin Jae-yi—of a much younger version of him, tucked away in the corners of old memory.

When he was in third grade, Han-young had moved to New York. Life went by fairly smoothly. Though he struggled with the language, he worked hard at it, and most people appreciated that effort. They were kind and friendly. The sitter his parents hired was also nice, and he didn’t face much racism.

Still, in some way, he must have felt lonely.

—“Representing South Korea: Shin Jae-yi!”

The moment he heard that one line, something in his heart stirred.

He must’ve been around thirteen at the time. That was when the Fencing World Youth Championships were held in the U.S. Han-young ended up attending the event by chance.

The athletes, clad in full-body suits and wielding swords, moved with elegance. Though the English commentary echoing through the venue was too fast for him to understand, it didn’t matter—his eyes were entertained. But the curiosity and patience of a thirteen-year-old didn’t last long. Just as the repetitive matches began to bore him, Shin Jae-yi appeared—accompanied by the word “Korea,” which rang clear in his ears.

Korea. Korean.

Words that felt so familiar and deeply missed lit up Han-young’s eyes. As if he’d never been bored to begin with, excitement surged in him as he looked toward Shin Jae-yi.

Dressed in a white suit and locked in combat with his opponent, Shin Jae-yi was mesmerizing. The boldness of his first steps. The precise, explosive movements of his sword. Every part of him drew the eye with magnetic force.

He looked like he was dancing.

Han-young didn’t know a thing about fencing, but even he could tell—this Korean fighter under the Taeguk symbol was extraordinary. The shift in the air around him wasn’t just his imagination.

I want to see his face, under the fencing mask.

“Wow…”

When the match ended and Shin Jae-yi finally removed his mask, revealing his face, Han-young couldn’t help but gasp.

The face that had been hidden beneath the rough mask shone brightly. Even with sweat-matted hair and a disheveled appearance, he was stunning. Han-young felt a tingle run through his entire body as he watched. The awe reached to his fingertips, filling him with a strange euphoria. It was a sensation too sharp to explain—like excitement, almost.

Being Korean, here on American soil just like him—that alone was enough for Han-young to feel a sense of kinship.

After that, Han-young occasionally looked up news about Shin Jae-yi. That continued until Shin Jae-yi retired from fencing due to an injury.

Today’s unexpected encounter with him—how strange and surreal it had been.

Letting out a faint laugh like air escaping a balloon, Han-young recalled the moment they came face to face. Honestly, it hadn’t been the best encounter, but in the end, his impression of Shin Jae-yi remained mostly positive.

“Careful. There’s water ahead.”

A small puddle. That was all it was. And yet Shin Jae-yi had caught something even Choi Jung-woo hadn’t noticed. For Han-young, that single glance, that single gesture—it registered surprisingly large.

He’s an odd one.

Lost in thoughts of Shin Jae-yi, Han-young found himself in front of his officetel. He went straight home, washed up, and crawled into bed. By the time he lay down, it was nearly 2 a.m. A mixture of alcohol, drowsiness, and fatigue clung to his body. Sinking into his blanket, he stared at the softly lit ceiling, then slowly closed his eyes.

“……”

The long and noisy day ended in silence. In the thickening stillness, the one thought filling his mind was Shin Jae-yi—who had approached with incomprehensible words and actions, shaken him to the core, and vanished.

Tap. His wrist, where Shin Jae-yi’s fingertips had briefly touched, still seemed to remember the warmth, tingling faintly.

…His hand was warm.

And just like that, as he finally slipped into deep sleep, Han-young unconsciously replayed memories of Shin Jae-yi.

Never once noticing that he hadn’t thought of Choi Jung-woo at all.

[Jungwoo-hyung: I miss you, Han-young] 2:12 AM

[Jungwoo-hyung: Come pick me up] 2:27 AM

“Ah…”

The message from Choi Jungwoo had come in the early hours of Monday. Just from a glance, it was obvious he had sent it while drunk. Han-young frowned as he checked the messages after waking up in the morning. Thud. The way he set his phone down was a bit rough.

Come pick me up, huh. Was he trying to gloss over things like this? Even if it wasn’t exactly a fight, shouldn’t they at least talk things through after what happened last time?

How did Jungwoo even see their relationship? The way he was acting lately didn’t show much respect or consideration toward a partner.

“So annoying…”

A weary sigh escaped his lips without him realizing. The unease from an incomprehensible situation pricked at his nerves.

There was a big difference between knowing something and seeing it with your own eyes. Han-young had already known that there were plenty of women around Jungwoo, but what he experienced at the last drinking party lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.

“…”

Some might say he was overreacting, but after that incident, Han-young had lost confidence. He realized just how unstable their relationship really was—from the very moment he hesitated to speak his mind.

“Irresponsible bastard.”

If he was going to be like this, he shouldn’t have asked to start a relationship in the first place. Han-young let out another sigh and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. The thought that the trust they had built over more than a year amounted to so little left him feeling disillusioned.

He stared at the darkened screen for a while, then headed to the bathroom. Standing under a fierce stream of water, he let it wash over him as though to rinse away his thoughts. After taking his time getting ready, he headed straight out of the house.

1
9:22 AM [Text: Contact me when you’re sober]

In the end, his resolve weakened, and he sent a reply.