FL Chapter 1.1

Three o’clock in the morning. A time when everyone is lost in sleep. In the silence of the dark house, gasping moans echoed.  

“Ahh, ohh, mmm! Ju… ugh, Won!”  

Dongha woke up to get a drink of water and overheard the muffled moans of a woman.  

Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor. From the front door to the bedroom, they lay scattered like pebbles marking a path. As if Hansel and Gretel had dropped breadcrumbs to find their way back.  

Swallowing his water, Dongha tuned out the lascivious voice.  

The cold water from the dispenser jolted him awake. He could distinctly feel it soothing his parched throat, sliding down his esophagus.  

“Oh, Juwon! Juwon! Ohh, I’m… ahh… coming…”  

She must be feeling really good. Her excited voice grew louder.  

Even someone with no sexual experience could tell the woman was on the verge of climax.  

Dongha slowly rubbed his face, still heavy with drowsiness, then rinsed the empty mug and placed it in the drying rack. His shoulders slumped, his steps shuffled—there wasn’t a trace of energy in him. Not because he was sleepy, but because the nighttime tryst plunged him into despair.  

Suddenly, something caught on Dongha’s sock. He bent down and picked up a discarded blazer. A familiar scent wafted from the heavy garment. An unforgettable aroma that instantly conjured the face of its owner.  

“This is so annoying.”  

Dongha gripped the blazer tightly. He wanted to fling it to the floor, but he couldn’t. He buried his face in it and inhaled slowly. The scent, sinking deep into his lungs, tore at his wounded soul.  

Dongha gathered all the clothes into a neat pile. His obsessive cleanliness asserted itself even in such a moment.  

He smoothed out the crumpled tie, folded the blazer as if preparing it for the dry cleaner. A tiny crop top, barely the size of his palm, clearly not Cha Juwon’s… Dongha stared at it for a long time before folding it neatly as well.  

Soon, the bedroom door opened. A woman, like a clandestine nocturnal guest, crept out and yelped upon seeing Dongha crouching in the dark hallway.  

“Ahh! What’s that?!”  

“…”  

Her face, glimpsed in the darkness, was pale as a sheet. Yet she stared straight into his eyes, showing no hint of fear. The woman, in a panic, covered her chest, clad only in a bra.  

“W-who are you?”  

“And who are you?”  

Dongha rose from his knees. The woman faltered at his confident tone. She couldn’t figure out who he was.  

“Are you… one of Juwon’s company employees? A manager or something?”  

“Why would you think he’s an employee? You can tell he’s just a kid.”  

A low voice came from behind the woman. Cha Juwon, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, watched their exchange and leisurely ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.  

He had just been having sex—his unbuckled belt and bare torso spoke for themselves. Perhaps because of the sweat, his chiseled muscles stood out starkly even in the pitch-black darkness.  

Cha Juwon savored the languid afterglow, rolling his stiff neck.  

Then, out of habit, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and, tilting his head, looked at Dongha.  

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”  

“I came out to get water.”  

“Then drink and go back to bed. Why are you folding other people’s clothes?”  

Juwon, cigarette between his lips, pulled out a lighter. Dongha, watching him, snapped:  

“Don’t smoke here. The ash will fall.”  

“Neat freak.”  

Irritation laced Juwon’s voice, but he put the lighter back in his pocket. The woman watched his compliance with surprise.  

“So who is he?”  

“My son.”  

“No way…”  

Learning the truth, the woman grew even more astonished. Her attention shifted entirely to Dongha. Her large eyes scanned him from head to toe.  

“You, Director, have a son this grown? You don’t look alike at all!”  

“…”  

Dongha silently stared at the woman, and she chuckled.  

“No, wait a second. When he looks up like that, that cold gaze—he’s the spitting image of Cha Juwon.”  

The woman searched for her clothes. The T-shirt and cap she’d tossed off upon entering the house were neatly folded. Embarrassed, she approached, grabbed her T-shirt, and quickly put it on.  

Then, pulling her cap low, she glanced at Dongha again.  

“How old are you?”  

“Twenty,” Juwon answered for him.  

“Wow… You, Director, really lived it up.”  

“A twenty-year-old son and a thirty-six-year-old father…” The woman shook her head but, given Juwon’s reputation, quickly accepted it. “Good grief, put him in acting. Blood doesn’t lie.”  

“Are you leaving already?”  

“I’m going, I’m going. Why are you so eager to kick me out?”  

Grumbling, the woman headed for the door. She flipped over her beige mules with her foot and slipped her pale feet into them.  

“If you want to get him into the industry, let me know. I’ll connect you with our agency.”  

“No need.”  

“And sex? Shall we do it again next time? I had fun tonight.”  

“We’ll see.”  

Even knowing Dongha was his son, she shamelessly talked about sex right in front of him. This woman was clearly unhinged too. She blew a kiss and, without hesitation, walked out the door.  

As soon as the door closed and the lock clicked, an eerie silence settled over the house. If not for Dongha’s heavy sighs, one might think the place was empty.  

Dongha picked up the folded clothes and headed to the living room. Juwon followed close behind. Dongha stopped when a long arm wrapped around his waist, and cold skin brushed against his body.  

“Why so prickly, Cha Dongha? Mad because I woke you up?”  

“I told you not to bring women home.”  

“She’s an actress, says she’d be recognized at a hotel. What can I do?”  

“An actress?”  

Dongha slowly turned around. Before him was a face more actor-like than any actor’s.  

“What’s her name?”  

“What was it again…” Juwon muttered. His tone held no trace of interest.  

Dongha was stunned that Juwon didn’t even remember the name of the woman he’d just slept with. On the other hand, it was typical of Cha Juwon, indifferent to everyone and everything.  

“If she’s in commercials, she must be pretty famous.”  

“Actresses… sleep with ad sponsors just like that?”  

“Adults can do that.”  

Juwon lightly tugged Dongha’s earlobe. Dongha grimaced in disgust, and Juwon, chuckling, removed his hand from his waist.  

Then he strolled toward the bathroom. On his shoulders, which he rolled as he headed for the shower, were visible nail scratches.  

Those marks clashed with his flawless body. His straight shoulder blades, elegantly defined muscles, and a vivid tattoo snaking along his spine were like a symbol of Cha Juwon.  

“Is this what real adults are like?” Twenty-year-old Dongha keenly felt the gap between himself and his father.  

Left alone in the hallway, Dongha sighed and turned. He was used to suppressing his emotions. Everything he saw and heard had to be erased from his mind. That was the only way he could survive.  

When he returned to his room and lay in bed, it was nearly five in the morning. Sleep had vanished. He was considering studying when his door swung open without a knock.  

Cha Juwon, fresh from the shower, entered, toweling his wet hair. Glancing at Dongha, he casually headed for the bed. The mattress sank under his weight as he knelt on it.  

“What’s wrong?”  

“Move over. I need to lie down.”  

“Have you lost your mind? Why are you sleeping in my bed?”  

“You saw the state of my bed right now?”  

Dongha fell silent. He could vividly imagine the scene. The thought of sticky semen and used condoms made him nauseous… Juwon had no intention of cleaning up, so he’d come to sleep in Dongha’s bed.  

“Put something on… Aren’t you embarrassed in front of me?”  

“Shut up and sleep.”  

Shamelessly claiming the bed, Cha Juwon forced Dongha, who tried to sit up, to lie back down and pulled him close. Dongha froze, his face pressed against his father’s bare chest, unsure what to do.  

In truth, it was Dongha who was embarrassed. If Juwon hadn’t started stroking his head, he might have stayed pressed against his father’s chest.  

Dongha carefully pulled away and turned his back. The single bed was too cramped for two men, and no matter how Dongha pressed himself to the edge, their bodies still touched.  

Juwon, seemingly oblivious to his son’s efforts, muttered in a low voice:  

“Don’t clean my room. I’ll call someone tomorrow.”  

“And who are you going to show that to?”  

“Definitely not you. Don’t look—it’s bad for your psyche.”  

A large hand patted Dongha’s nape. It was an unexpectedly tender gesture, at odds with his debauched lifestyle.  

The hand gently ruffling Dongha’s hair suddenly stilled. Juwon fell asleep quickly. Soundly.  

Confirming the steady breathing behind him, Dongha cautiously shifted. The bed creaked as he sat up, and he held his breath for a moment. Dongha cast a nervous glance downward.  

“Dad, are you asleep?”  

“…”  

No response. Cha Juwon was fast asleep, his usually sharp senses dulled.  

Dongha gazed at his sleeping face, turning slightly toward him. When else would he get the chance to secretly admire Cha Juwon?  

Of course, he could only look, not daring to touch.  

Cha Juwon was simply breathtaking. With age, he didn’t grow older—he became more alluring. At thirty-six, he looked strikingly youthful and beautiful.  

That’s why looking at him was so painful.  

Dongha’s gaze traced his open forehead, thick brows, seductive eyes, straight nose, and lingered on his lips—the only soft feature on his face.  

Dongha bit his lip. His chest tightened with resentment, fear, and longing; his eyes stung.  

He knew these feelings were wrong. They were a ticking time bomb he couldn’t confide in anyone, threatening to tear him apart from within. But wouldn’t everything be fine if he just kept it secret, controlling himself?  

He carefully lay back down and tightly hugged Juwon’s waist. It felt like a shame to sleep. It seemed he wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.  

The demon tattooed on Cha Juwon’s chest seemed to open its maw, ready to devour him. As if condemning his sinful thoughts.  

Dongha squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the blanket over his head to muffle his ragged breathing.  

“It’s okay. Everyone has their secrets.”  

If no one finds out… can’t he allow himself to fall in love?  

Even if the object of his love is his own father.