IA Chapter 1.2

The man walked with an effortless grace. With each stride of his long legs—legs so lengthy you’d worry they might tangle and trip—he drew every gaze around him, only for them to scatter again moments later. Jin-han had never seen someone in real life embody the kind of elegance you’d only hear about in dramas.  

Hoping to escape the overwhelming attention, Jin-han subtly slowed his pace. It still didn’t feel real. He hadn’t expected the person behind Hello Kitty to be this striking. If he was going to keep up with a face this intense, he’d need to steel himself for the stares ahead—because he had so many things he wanted to do with his newfound online friend.  

First off, he wanted to proudly tell Eun-hyeong, who always teased him for being friendless, that he’d finally made a friend. Next, he hoped to grab a meal with Kitty-ssi maybe once a week, or even catch one of those popular movies everyone at work was raving about. Thinking it over, it almost felt a bit like dating—well, not that dating would be a bad thing either.  

Come to think of it, they had connected through a dating app, and now that they’d met, the man didn’t seem all that suspicious. With a face this handsome, he’d stand out if he committed a crime, so he was probably just an ordinary guy.His face wasn’t ordinary, but his background probably was. In that case, wouldn’t it be okay to go on a date?

“What are you doing back there?”  

Lost in serious thoughts about the future, Jin-han snapped back to reality at the sound of a voice close by. Startled, he looked ahead to find the man standing still, gazing down at him impassively, just as before.  

“Me? Did I do something?”  

Jin-han glanced around as he asked, and the man pressed his lips shut. It’d been noticeable since earlier—this guy had a habit of pausing before speaking.  

“You stopped and didn’t follow.”  

After a brief silence, the reply came, and Jin-han’s face lit up instantly. A bright smile spread across his usually blank expression.  

“Oh, I was thinking about what I’d do with Kitty-ssi from now on. We’ve finally met, you know!”  

Watching Jin-han’s sharp, earnest eyes soften with a grin, the man let out a low hum. The deep, mellow sound resonated sweetly. After a moment of thought, he turned and motioned with his eyes for Jin-han to follow. The stares from passersby were still something to get used to, but if he wanted to be friends with this guy, it was a hurdle he’d have to clear. Recalling the celebrity bodyguard gigs he’d done cluelessly as a kid, this didn’t seem all that tough.  

Stepping closer to the man, Jin-han caught a pleasant scent. It wasn’t the sharp, overpowering cologne typical of guys his age, but a fresh, leafy fragrance—cool and crisp. ‘Elegant people even smell different, huh?’ he mused. After a few minutes of walking, the man stopped in front of an imposing building. Holding the door open naturally, he said to Jin-han:  

“Go in.”  

Something about this effortlessly cool guy doing such a thing made Jin-han feel flustered. He’d never imagined receiving this kind of courtesy—maybe offering it himself, sure, but not this. Hurrying inside, he noticed the man holding the door for a few others trailing behind before joining him. Two women, clearly smitten by the handsome man’s kindness, couldn’t peel their eyes off them.  

“Thanks, Ki—”  

“Cha Jeong-yul. My name.”  

Before Jin-han could finish saying “Kitty,” the man cut in smoothly.  

“Oh, right! Cha Jeong-yul-ssi!”  

It was oddly fascinating. Jin-han rarely thought names suited people, but Jeong-yul’s look and demeanor matched his name perfectly. Jeong-yul gave a slight nod and headed toward the elevator.  

Finally taking in his surroundings, Jin-han realized they were in a hotel. He’d been here once or twice as a celebrity bodyguard, but never as a guest—this kind of place felt worlds apart from him. Lodging wasn’t something he had much connection with; even during his almost-flings, he’d never gotten near a motel.  

Stepping into the elevator, Jeong-yul pressed the top-floor button with ease. As Jin-han glanced around, the lift shot upward quickly. Just before the doors opened, Jeong-yul spoke in a dry tone.

“You said you’d never eaten Western food in your life, right? So I booked dinner here.”  

Uh…  

He hadn’t expected him to remember that.  

Jin-han had figured they’d grab samgyeopsal¹ or sundae-gukbap² if they met, so this unexpected thoughtfulness threw him off. A faint tickle crept up his nape, and his stomach churned—probably from skipping meals all day in his excitement, so his stomach must have been stinging.  

“Thank you. I’m, uh, really happy that you remembered.” 

Jin-han quickly came to a conclusion about  Jeong-yul. He’d sensed it through their chats, but Jeong-yul was kind. As the saying goes, people who took care of your meals were never a bad person. Next time, he’d take him to a really good sundae-gukbap spot and treat him to three bowls. Smiling shyly at the joy of meeting a good person, Jin-han watched as Jeong-yul pressed his lips shut and rubbed his chin.  

Jeong-yul’s silence continued as they entered the restaurant and were guided to a table right next to the window. The table, far away from the other tables, seemed to be the best seat in the house. Jin-han adamantly refused the staff’s offer to pull out his chair and sat down on his own.

Finally, they sat. A glance at his watch showed barely ten minutes had passed since they’d met, yet it felt like a grand journey’s end. Confirming Jeong-yul was a good person eased his nerves. Eun-hyeong’s warnings must’ve been nagging at him more than he’d realized. But now, knowing they were wrong, he could eat in peace.  

Relieved, Jin-han took a careful sip of the water the staff had poured. At that exact moment, Jeong-yul said in a low voice.

“Sorry, but Jin-han-ssi, you’re not my type.”  

The words were so casual and calm, like a simple greeting. Naturally, Jin-han choked. Gulping the cool water too fast, he coughed violently, wiping the dribble from his lips with the back of his hand. With a soft sigh, Jeong-yul reached over.  

“As I said when we met, I thought Jin-han-ssi was the person on the left in the photo. If I’d known it was the one on the right, I wouldn’t have continued the conversation.”  

A large hand grabbed a napkin. Jeong-yul stretched his long arm toward Jin-han’s face, gently wiping his mouth with a tender touch. Stunned by the rapid turn of events, Jin-han froze.  

The words he’d just heard shocked him, sure, but the kind gesture wiping away the water was even more startling. Having gone so long without even a proper fling, this small contact made his breath catch, nerves tightening. His stomach heated up like he’d downed a bowl of gukbap³. 

Blinking at Jeong-yul’s actions, Jin-han watched as he wiped down to his chin, then pulled back as if nothing had happened. Folding the used napkin neatly and setting it on the table, Jeong-yul gracefully handed him the menu.  

“Since we both made the effort to come here, we can part ways after the meal. I’m the one rejecting, so I’ll pay. Eat whatever you want, no pressure.”  

The very person who had created a situation where he couldn’t eat comfortably said it so calmly. He said it so calmly that he honestly didn’t even feel rejected. But at the same time, it was so clear that even Jin-han, who couldn’t find a shred of common sense, clearly understood Jeong-yul’s words.

“You don’t want to be friends with me?”  

Disappointment dripping from his face, Jin-han asked cautiously. Jeong-yul, who’d been pointing at the menu, paused.  

“Friends?”  

He echoed, puzzled, and Jin-han rushed to explain.  

“Yeah, friends! Being friends doesn’t have to do with taste, right?”  

Jeong-yul stared at him, tilting his head as if unsure where to begin.  

“Who uses a dating app to make friends?”  

His words jolted Jin-han into remembering “A” was a dating app. He’d thought it through earlier but blanked out for a second. Stumped by the firm logic, Jeong-yul went on without hesitation:  

“We confirmed it when we first talked, didn’t we? You’re gay, I’m bi. Weren’t you using it for the same reason?”  

Jeong-yul’s tone wasn’t aggressive—just a steady recital of facts, his low voice carrying an oddly commanding weight. Jin-han quietly listened to his words, recalling the moment he turned on the app. The time when he couldn’t help but be excited about meeting Jeong-yul today.

Even though he wasn’t completely without friends or family, it felt strange to exist alone in an unfamiliar area. It felt more vague than the time he first entered school, when he had to make friends in a classroom without a single familiar face.

Coming home late after a night shift, opening the veranda door to see countless orange squares glowing in the high-rises—thinking someone in those lights was with family or friends—Jin-han felt unbearably lonely under that vast night sky. Since quitting his athlete days and moving to Seoul alone, his world had always been too big.  

Even when a rare day off was approaching, he had no one to make plans with, so he wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Thinking that he would rest his tired body, he would sleep and exercise, and the day would somehow pass, but it was rare that he found any of the joy that others spoke of in it.

Even though he had Eun-hyeong, it was a luxury to see him often, as he was a full three hours away by car, and all his work colleagues talked about, besides work, was women.

That’s why talking to Jeong-yul was fun. A faceless person he could open up to without risk. Someone in the same city he could meet more easily than Eun-hyeong. Best of all, Jeong-yul was a good listener. Even trivial stories Jin-han worried might bore him got a sincere response, remembered with care.  

Jin-han liked Jeong-yul. Whether it was romance or friendship, he honestly couldn’t tell. He’d never fallen at first sight or felt the wild flutters others described. Media always painted “liking” as that kind of thing, so Jin-han just guessed this was friendship.  

“I don’t know.”  

So he answered truthfully, his eyes drooping with genuine uncertainty. Jeong-yul, seeing his weary eyes that looked like he really didn’t know, buried his back in the chair. His long fingers unfolded the long menu, which was neatly arranged, and placed it in front of him, turning it so that Jinhan could see it easily.

“I’m not blaming you, so don’t take it to heart. People have different goals. Ours just don’t align. I’m just saying, let’s not waste each other’s time.”  

Jeong-yul lowered his gaze. His long lashes dipped, revealing their dense length—explaining why his eyes seemed so striking up top.  

“You said you don’t eat seafood well. There aren’t many items on the menu here, so it’s not hard to choose. Since it’s your first time eating Western food, these two seem better, so look at them and tell me.”

The neatly trimmed pink fingertips pointed to one of the dishes. As Jeong-yul said, there were only about four items on the menu. Jin-han seriously read the names, which were divided into tomato and cream. Even though he looked at the menu for more than a minute without saying anything, Jeong-yul didn’t urge him. As Jin-han pondered the menu, he made a decision.

“Well, we could still have sex, couldn’t we?!” 

His clear, chipper declaration stopped Jeong-yul’s hand, which was about to pick up the water glass. He thought he could see blue veins protruding on the back of his white hand, and then Jeong-yul narrowed his eyes. Sharp black eyes met Jin-han’s face, which had offered an absurd answer. Jin-han looked back at Jeong-yul with bright eyes, as if all his worries had been resolved.

“…Sex?”  

Jeong-yul murmured, and Jin-han nodded casually, pulling out logic he thought undeniable.  

“Dating’s about taste, but sex is about compatibility, isn’t it?”  

Of course, Jin-han didn’t know anything about sex. He’d just miraculously recalled one of Eun-hyeong’s rants. Staring blankly at the menu earlier, wondering what to do, Eun-hyeong’s face popped into his head, whispering:  

“Sex is about compatibility. No matter how hot or fit someone is, if you don’t click, it’s pointless.” 

Eun-hyeong always pitied Jin-han’s sexless life at twenty-seven more than Jin-han himself did. Having never been single since middle school, Eun-hyeong found it tragic that Jin-han didn’t know love’s pleasures.  

“How do you know if it’s compatible?”  

“You just do it and feel it. Like, bam, it hits you.” 

The description never clicked for Jin-han back then, but now it was a lifesaver. Eun-hyeong really was his one true friend. What he’d dismissed as nonsense turned out to be advice for his future self.  

“And, uh, dating apps are usually… for that kind of thing, right?”  

His heart pounded as he spoke. Jeong-yul’s earlier words had reminded him that dating apps were often for hookups or sex partners, so he tacked it on—though this kind of talk was a million miles from his world.  

Wiping sweaty palms on his pants out of Jeong-yul’s sight, Jin-han felt embarrassed by his own words but couldn’t show it.  

Jeong-yul studied him for a long while, as if weighing something. Whether he was cautious or unimpressed, his blank face was unreadable, and Jin-han’s pulse raced. Just as he feared he’d choke before eating, Jeong-yul finally spoke.  

“I thought you asked me if I didn’t want to be friends with you earlier.”

The jab caught him off guard, leaving him momentarily speechless. True, he had definitely thought of Jeong-yul as a friend, and he had been eagerly waiting for today, thinking that they would become good friends, but….  

If this kept up, they’d eat and part before even trying friendship. That wouldn’t do.  

Making friends was already hard for him, and he was far from “popular.” Meeting someone he clicked with, only to lose them over “taste,” would be unbearable.  

“Yeah, friends! Sex friends.”  

Jin-han did his best to use his ingenuity. He was a pure domestic who didn’t even know the letter ‘E’ in English, but fortunately he knew these words. Jeong-yul raised one eyebrow slightly at the words he had forced in. To increase credibility, Jin-han smiled brightly. He didn’t know why, but he remembered that when he smiled when he had nothing to say, people strangely just let it go.

As he smiled so hard his cheeks cramped, Jeong-yul leaned back, crossing his arms. Those pitch-black eyes watched him intently. Come to think of it, his skin was so fair. With slightly wavy dark hair and those deep eyes, the contrast made his pale complexion stand out even more. Black was common enough, but Jeong-yul’s black felt strangely unfamiliar.  

Maybe that’s why Jin-han was so nervous.  

Every time Jeong-yul’s gaze landed somewhere on him, his body stiffened, his mouth went dry. Those fathomless eyes—reflecting no light—slowly traced over him. They lingered heavily on his thick, tawny neck before sliding downward at a leisurely pace.  

It was weird. Fully clothed, yet it felt like Jeong-yul’s gaze was scanning his bare skin.  

As soon as he thought that, his fingers, which had been rubbing against his pants, twitched and trembled slightly, as if convulsing. A tickling sensation came over him like goosebumps. Jinhan moved his body slightly, wondering why this was suddenly happening, and Jeong-yul said something incomprehensible.

“Hmm, my methods are a bit… unconventional. Even friendship might not be easy.”  

It didn’t sound like a flat rejection. To ease the tension, Jin-han replied even more cheerfully:  

“I’m fine with anything! I’m good at physical stuff.”  

Truthfully, he had no clue what “unconventional” meant or if sex even had methods. Ignorance is bliss, and since he didn’t know anything, he couldn’t guess anything, so he could answer confidently.

“…Are you serious?”  

For the first time, Jeong-yul’s face showed a clear shift. Like he’d heard something unexpected, he asked again. Seizing the moment, Jin-han affirmed without hesitation,

“Yes.”  

Even after two firm yeses, Jeong-yul didn’t budge right away. Hovering on the edge of agreement, his scrutiny made Jin-han antsy. ‘It’s just sex—everyone does it, so how hard could it be?’  

“If you do it with me…”  

Jeong-yul slowly straightened from his chair. Leaning closer, he leveled their eyes. In a low, subdued voice, Jeong-yul threw out a warning.

“You might end up crying. Are you okay with that?”

About to reflexively say “yes” like a robot, Jin-han paused at “crying.” ‘Crying?’ He racked his brain. His meager knowledge couldn’t fathom crying during sex. It sounded unusual, but wasn’t sex supposed to be… good? If it’s good, why cry…?  

When he was younger, when Eun-hyeong dragged him to watch porn that everyone else was watching, he thought he heard something that sounded like crying. The thin, raised moans of the woman, which he couldn’t hear in ordinary situations, sometimes sounded like crying if you listened closely. 

“You seem so vanilla, Jin-han-ssi.”  

‘Vanilla? Like vanilla ice cream?’ The random sweet word threw him deeper into confusion. ‘Do I… seem like that? Soft or easy or something?’  

He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t pretend not to know because it seemed like a sex-related story. Wasn’t the reason Jeong-yul, who had said that they should never see each other again, had continued the conversation so far because of his proposal? He had pretended to know, so he had to keep pretending to know to be consistent.

“I’m not into trying things out of curiosity. It usually ends badly.”  

Sensing Jin-han’s hesitation, Jeong-yul put up a wall again. Seeing him pull back, Jin-han blurted out:  

“No, no! It’s not curiosity. I’m not vanilla. I’ve got experience.”  

‘Experience, my ass’—he was just saying anything out of desperation. Jinhan still didn’t understand Jeong-yul’s words, but he decided to push forward. 

At Jin-han’s reply, Jeong-yul met his eyes as if judging the truth. As he smiled and looked at each other as before, Jeong-yul finally gave a positive answer.

“Alright, then.”  

After all that convincing, his heart thumped at the approval. Jin-han, unable to hide his excited expression, was about to open his mouth, but Jeong-yul continued.

“We’ll try it once. Whether we keep going, we’ll decide after.”  

Although it was a conditional approval, Jin-han had a bright look on his face at the positive answer that had finally come out. Jeong-yul, looking at Jin-han as if gauging his thoughts, turned his gaze to the menu he had put down, as if he had decided to let it go. Then he said to Jin-han.

“Shall we decide on the next appointment after we eat?”

A meeting that could’ve ended today got an extension. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jin-han quickly replied, worried Jeong-yul might catch his bluff.  

“Yes, sounds good!”  

His appetite, absent earlier, roared back. Eagerly scanning the menu, he debated between Jeong-yul’s recommended tomato or cream options. Unable to decide, he handed it off.  

“If it’s okay, could you pick for me, Jeong-yul-ssi?”  

At the words asking him to choose, Jeongyul hummed quietly. He stared intently at Jinhan, who was only looking at Jeongyul, and then made a decision.

“Let’s go with the cream.”  

Without delay, Jeong-yul summoned the staff. Jin-han watched, fascinated, as he blended seamlessly into this overly refined space. Then, out of nowhere, the tail end of Eun-hyeong’s advice popped into his head.

“The scariest thing is getting attached physically, so be careful, got it? Don’t just sleep around recklessly!”

Eun-hyeong’s stern face spun in his mind. Jin-han didn’t quite get what to watch out for, but surely Eun-hyeong would be pleased he was finally shedding his 27-year virgin badge. Brushing off the thought, he dove into excited anticipation, flipping through his work schedule to plan their next meetup.