OTC Chapter 7

Tilting her head slightly, Eunkyo naturally removed Lee Jaeheon’s hand. The sudden touch might have been startling, but she remained composed, as if accustomed to someone’s touch.

“This will dry up quickly. Should I open the wine?”

Jaeheon, gently rubbing the fingertips that had just touched her skin, smiled and picked up the opener.

“I think I’m more skilled at this.”

“Why do you think so? I like wine too.”

“I worked part-time at a wine bar when I was studying abroad. I used to open dozens of bottles a day.”

“Ah, then you are more skilled at this.”

Eunkyo pushed the wine bottle towards Lee Jaeheon. He crinkled his eyes in a charming way and said,

“I’ve noticed this since earlier, but you seem to change your attitude very quickly, sunbae.”

“I hear that a lot. I don’t like pointless mind games.”

Perhaps he wasn’t lying about working at a wine bar, because Lee Jaeheon opened the bottle with remarkable skill. 

He’s good at everything.

“And can’t just refuse anything. Right?”

She wasn’t sure if he was asking her or himself, but she shrugged in agreement.

“You’re a little strange, you know?”

Placing the appropriately filled wine glass in front of her, he lifted his long eyelashes and stared into her eyes.

His gaze showed no intention of looking away.

She now understood why the women at the dinner had burst into laughter at his every word.

“Mr. Lee Jaeheon, do you know me?”

“Is that a question?”

“Yes. The way you talk… it feels like we’ve met before.”

She knew how obvious and transparent her question was. It was as cliché as asking, “Have we met somewhere before?”

He served her pasta onto her plate, then burst into laughter.

“Of course, I know you. Jung Eunkyo, thirty-one. A kind and gentle writer from the Creative Writing Department, a talented hubae (junior).” 

“…Hubae?”

He took a sip of wine, savoring it, and his brow furrowed.

“My hyung told me about you. Sunggeun hyung.” 

“Ah… Sunggeun sunbae…”

“How about you, sunbae? Do you know me?”

“Not really… you just feel familiar, like someone I know.”

He was more than just someone she knew; he was her ex-boyfriend, but there was no need to go into such detail. Besides, it was only his voice and demeanor that were similar, not his appearance.

It’s just my imagination. 

Coming to this conclusion, she reached for her wine glass, but a hand suddenly appeared and took it. Startled, she looked up and found Lee Jaeheon’s face close to hers.

“It needs to… open up a little more. It’s still too tight…”

He added, “It’s bitter,” but Eunkyo didn’t hear him.

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard that I resemble someone.”

He leaned closer, his body brushing against her cheek, and reached for the tissue box on the sofa.

The suddenly reduced distance, almost as if he were embracing her, took her breath away.

It wasn’t his actions, which so easily revealed his intentions, that unsettled her—it was the fact that both his scent and the sound of his voice left her mouth dry, making her feel both ridiculous and exasperated.

“Is my face that common?”

“No, that’s not it… I don’t mean your faces are similar, just the atmosphere, the voice. Things like that.”

He wiped the rim of the wine bottle with a tissue and lowered his gaze. She expected him to ask who she thought he resembled, but he didn’t. With a subtly downcast expression, he chuckled, looking at the now-soggy pasta.

“With this, you can’t eat it or even throw it away…”

He set down the wine bottle and said in a slightly irritated tone,

“It’s gone cold now, sunbae.”

“It’s still edible.”

“No, it’s not.”

He shook his head, his long eyes curving gently.

“You’ll get sick if you just eat anything. Let’s eat something else, sunbae.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

The basement studio door opened. Lee Jaeheon strode inside and immediately turned on the faucet at the sink.

He felt slightly drunk from a single bottle of wine. For who had never been drunk before, the sensation was both disconcerting and unfamiliar.

Was it because of Jung Eunkyo?

Jung Eunkyo’s presence that still lingered in his mind was bothersome and unpleasant. Jaeheon turned off the cold water.

Droplets of water dripped down from his soaked hair and chin.

The air conditioner hadn’t been installed yet, and the fan only blew around the humid air. Even without the lights on, the streetlights outside the window cast a faint glow through the window, creating silhouettes in the darkness. Exhaling a hot breath, Jaeheon wiped his face against the mirror.

The simple, modern, frameless mirror reflected the man’s face, tinged with an undeniable sense of inferiority. A feeling too insignificant to even be called inferiority. It was closer to an inferiority complex.

He quietly confronted the complex within him.

“She said I’m similar to someone…?”

That’s impossible.

He knew exactly who she was talking about. That’s why he could be certain. It was absolutely impossible.

Having easily dismissed Jung Eunkyo’s words, Jaeheon pulled his shirt up to wipe the water from his face. Then, checking the message that had arrived on his phone, he lazily dry the water from his hair.

He opened the refrigerator, took out a cold bottle of water, and turned on some music on his tablet, bringing a touch of warmth to the dark, dreary space.

He plopped down on the worn leather sofa, tossed his phone onto the table, and shoved his hand down his pants.

“Fuck…”

A curse slipped out involuntarily as if he were a dog in heat. He closed his eyes and sighed as he stroked his half-erect penis.

Ha…

“It looks like an idea notebook. Are you writing something?”

At his casual question, Jung Eunkyo stuffed her mouth full of tomato and nodded.

“Yes. I’m a little stuck on a theme. The scribbles written here are actually ideas. I thought I might get some inspiration if I just flipped through it mindlessly.”

“Sorry, but I took a peek. It was interesting.”

“You could read it, even though it’s just scribbles?”

To his surprise, instead of displeasure, her face lit up with interest. The sight made his heart flutter like a teenager in puberty.

“‘Caress me. So I can swallow you whole.’” 

The line he muttered was from the notebook. He had liked the phrase, written repeatedly in black, blue, and red ink, so he had memorized it.

Then, she stared blankly at his lips, her face flushed from the alcohol, and suddenly grabbed his arm.

“One more time. That… that line, say it one more time. Please?” 

The way she pleaded almost made him lose his mind.

That’s when it all started. From the moment she boldly pulled his arm and captivated him with her sparkling eyes, his impulse crossed the dangerous line.

“Ha… Jung Eunkyo.”

Lee Jaeheon pulled his shirt up to his mouth and began to masturbate in earnest. The flesh filling his hand was hot and firm like a rubber ball. Every stroke, from the tip to the base, chafed against his calloused, rough hand, but he couldn’t stop.

“What else? Don’t stop, keep going.”

“Why? Do you like my voice?”

“Mmm, it’s the best. Your personality is really awful, but why is your voice so good?”

“Ha, is that an insult or what?”

“A compliment. I’m complimenting you right now, Mr. Lee Jaeheon. I’ve felt this way since the recording session—it’s just so good.”

So frivolous. So careless. 

Who says they like something that easily?

Drunk, Jung Eunkyo’s words became shorter, and she laughed unguardedly. Damn it, he almost threw off the mask he had barely managed to keep on.

His breath hitched and grew ragged, his hips rising slowly. He clenched his jaw, his shirt still in his mouth, and tilted his head back. One of his knees drew up, overcome with a sudden urge to cum.

As he gripped the tip of his penis with his large hand, thick, sticky semen erupted into his palm. Even after ejaculating a considerable amount, the excitement in his eyes didn’t easily subside.

“Ha.”

Disgusted by the stickiness, Jaeheon collapsed onto the sofa. He had showered just before coming here, but now he was drenched in sweat again.

Just then, his phone, which he had thrown on the table, rang. It was past 2 a.m., well past midnight. At this late hour, there was only one person who would contact him. He turned his head and stared at the brightly lit phone before getting up.

He wiped his hand carelessly and picked up the phone, his eyes creasing in displeasure.

「I’ve decided to come back to Korea.」

Seeing the sender’s name, Jaeheon’s jaw tightened. He sat down heavily on the sofa, his face hardening as he stared at the message, but he added a smiley emoticon to his reply.

「Congratulations, hyung. ^^」

The “read” notification appeared immediately. But no further reply followed. Staring at the screen with an indifferent expression, he tossed his phone aside and ran both hands through his hair.

As he tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, the first light of dawn reflected in his dark eyes. Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed the approaching day.

Seeing the pale light of dawn replacing the extinguished streetlights, he muttered a curse under his breath and grabbed his car keys.

He wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully in this state. It might be better to move around.

Opening the cabinet to retrieve his duffel bag, he noticed the photos stuck inside and blinked in surprise.

From old Polaroids to printed photographs, a considerable number of pictures were densely clustered there, but they all featured the same person.

Jung Eunkyo.

All these photos had come from Jung Eunkyo’s belongings. He had found quite a few photos inside the notebook, tucked between clothes, and from inside the old drawers.

He had considered throwing them away, but he hadn’t found it necessary.

He chuckled and closed the cabinet door. He locked it, ensuring the keypad was set, and then left the studio.

As he climbed the stairs, the scent of Jung Eunkyo’s shampoo, which he had smelled the night before, lingered in the hallway. It hung in the air as if it had been there for a long time.

He stood still for a moment, then abruptly looked up. But, of course, no one was there.