SB Ch 10

Chae Beomjoon’s sharp eyes twisted into a frown. Unable to conceal his displeasure, he reached out. What’s the problem this time? Prodding at Seo Haeyoon’s small lips with a finger as if to push him away, he dodged the teeth that snapped at his fingertip and asked,

“If I’m trash, do I at least get extra points for it?”

“You do.”

Well, that changed things.

“Then I’ve asked the right question. Yes, trash. There’s no one as much of a trash bag as I am. It’s honestly surprising my dick hasn’t fallen off by now. If you grab anyone at the social club and show them my picture, more people would call me ‘trash’ than by my actual name. If you were to visualize a mop, that’d be me—Chae Beomjoon, human mop.”

If there were extra points to be had, there was no need to deny it. It was true, after all. While he could never accept being called a gigolo, the term “trash” fit him remarkably well.

At his rambling response, Seo Haeyoon burst into laughter. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, before posing another question.

“If we become sex partners, you’re not going to start talking about dating me or saying you like me later, right?”

It seemed like a conversation with no beginning or end, but somehow, Haeyoon’s little head appeared to have reached some structured conclusion. Chae Beomjoon had no idea what kind of thought process led him to spout lines like a melodrama protagonist.

“If you do, it’s a deal-breaker. I’ll tolerate you liking me as long as you keep it to yourself. Don’t confess or anything.”

What was with this confidence, as if it were inevitable for someone to fall for him just by being his sex partner? It was like a lumberjack assuming trees would fall without even swinging an axe.

In any case, no matter how low he’d stooped thus far, Beomjoon wasn’t about to let go of his pride to answer such a question. Smirking as though regretful, he lifted the corners of his lips and replied,

“Haeyoon, I’m sorry, but even I have preferences.”

But Seo Haeyoon was far bolder than Beomjoon had anticipated.

“You’re saying I’m not your type?”

“…How can someone be this shameless?”

“So I’m not, huh?”

Adjusting his posture, Haeyoon widened his eyes and asked again, as if the mere thought of not being Beomjoon’s type was an unpardonable offense. His exaggerated sense of self-worth was laughable, but somehow, it suited him. What a peculiar man. Beomjoon thought as much and gave him the truth.

“Not that kind of preference. I mean, dating or being in a relationship isn’t my thing.”

“So, in other ways, I am your type?”

Seo Haeyoon was relentless. Despite his seemingly high self-esteem, he showed a stubborn determination to be Beomjoon’s type, as if he wouldn’t allow anything else.

In truth, Seo Haeyoon was Beomjoon’s type. Anyone shorter than him with even a shred of charm tended to fall into that category. But there were certain types who especially piqued his curiosity, and Haeyoon belonged to that group.

He had a dignified face that made you want to strike up a conversation just to test the waters. The kind of face that begged to be teased. A face that made you want to break its composure and watch it react.

And when that composure broke, even the cracks were tantalizing. His sharp reactions were endearingly cute, and when it came to kissing or sex, he melted like soft wax, showing a side that felt almost intimate.

But Beomjoon wasn’t about to admit all that outright, letting Haeyoon beam triumphantly. As mentioned, Haeyoon was exactly the kind of person who brought out Beomjoon’s mischief to its fullest extent.

“You’re my type, sure.”

“Really?”

“You’ve got two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. You’re a person, aren’t you?”

“…….”

When Beomjoon answered matter-of-factly, Haeyoon frowned. His upturned, sharp eyes looked comically petulant. Cute.

He wanted to tease him further, but the timing wasn’t right. Now was the moment to seduce Seo Haeyoon. With that in mind, Beomjoon gave up on the jokes, leaning in with a smile. Their noses nearly touched. Haeyoon didn’t pull away.

“Of course, you’re also someone I want to kiss.”

Murmuring while maintaining eye contact, Beomjoon earned a soft scoff from Haeyoon. Too late. But even as he said that, Haeyoon didn’t push his approaching face away.

Beomjoon gently kissed Haeyoon’s lips, parting them naturally. He licked the upper lip and lightly bit the plush lower lip before releasing it, drawing a heated sigh from Haeyoon. His arousal came quickly.

“…Haa.”

Fortunately, the belated kiss of reconciliation seemed to earn extra points. Seo Haeyoon, who had been blinking docilely, opened his mouth at some point.

“Beomjoon-ah.”

“Yes, Haeyoon.”

At Beomjoon’s calm response, Haeyoon casually moved his arm and tugged at the belt of Beomjoon’s robe. With a soft swish, the knot came undone, revealing a firm, bare torso beneath.

Calloused hands roamed over his skin, lightly tracing the shallow grooves of Beomjoon’s abs. Lifting his gaze, Haeyoon murmured,

“You’re not going to cry because you like me so much, are you?”

…Clearly, he’d been around the block. Anyone this calculating surely had some mileage.

In any case, the hard-fought negotiation had ended in success, prompting Beomjoon to burst out laughing. A hearty haha echoed as he cupped Haeyoon’s cheek and kissed him.

Who was he to talk? If anyone wasn’t suited for such childish romantic games, it was Chae Beomjoon.

🔮🌙

Are you 2D by any chance? 11:21

What do you mean by 2D? Two-dimensional? 11:23

Yeah, your ears seem thinner than paper.

You said you hate it so much, but you’re fast, really fast. LOL 11:25

Just get to work. 11:26

Lol, but isn’t she right? That person is okay, right? 11:27

Not bad. 11:28

Seo Haeyoon sent the reply and put down his phone, stretching his stiff neck by tilting his head side to side. He stared at the wide forest visible below the window, slowly turning his wrist to loosen the stiff joints.

The weather was nice. Summer had ended, and the season called autumn had arrived, but the lingering heat, as if it couldn’t leave yet, kept the park still fresh and green.

Though the daytime temperature still felt like summer, a refreshing breeze blew when walking in the shade of the trees. It was a pleasant season.

Seo Haeyoon thought he should take a walk before the sun set after practice. With that thought in mind, he picked up the bow from the table.

There are two ways to use the bow for playing the double bass: the French bow and the German bow.

When he was in the United States, he used the French bow according to the symphony orchestra’s style. The French bow, held with the back of the hand facing upwards, produced a much softer and more delicate sound compared to the German bow, which is held with the palm facing outwards.

However, since the German bow was good for the wrist and overall comfortable, he had been using it since returning to Korea. But starting today, he planned to practice with the French bow again. Although all the double bass players in the local orchestra used the German bow, he thought it would be better to use the French bow with its smoother tone to stay in the orchestra.

However, it was fine to use the German bow to warm up lightly before serious practice. Seo Haeyoon lightly grasped the German bow, rotating his wrist so that the back of his hand faced towards his body.

Calloused fingers of his left hand pressed down on the fingerboard, and his right arm moved as the rosined horsehair pressed down hard on the steel strings. The resulting vibration of the strings was transmitted through the bridge to the massive body of the double bass, and the weighty sound began to fill the space, resonating with the ancient wood.

The deep vibration engulfed Haeyoon, a powerful wave that felt as if it could shake his entire body. Yet, even as he hugged the double bass that had endured for two centuries, Seo Haeyoon remained steady and unwavering throughout the performance.

It wasn’t the instrument that trembled, but his heart. His desire to draw closer to the double bass, which guided his life, was a long-held, unrequited love that he never expressed outwardly.

The piece Haeyoon was playing, filled with that trembling, was William Bolcom’s “Graceful Ghost.” Composed by Bolcom in memory of his late father, “Graceful Ghost” possessed an elegant and lyrical melody, true to its name.

It was a type of music known as ragtime—a genre that could be considered a precursor to jazz, characterized by its syncopated rhythm laid over a regular melody. This endearing piece was Bolcom’s affectionate tribute to his father, who was said to have loved dancing during his lifetime.

Playing with the sheet music arranged for the double bass, he couldn’t fully capture the original feel of the piece, but it was still much more serene and profound than when played on the piano or in a trio. “Graceful Ghost” was Seo Haeyoon’s favorite piece to play when warming up.

With his eyes gently closed, he immersed himself in the melody. The leisurely yet rhythmic melody captivated even the player’s heart. Amusingly, as Seo Haeyoon moved his hands, he recalled the touch that had groped him a few days ago.

Like the “Graceful Ghost,” which started with a tone that demanded attention and evolved into a curious melody, the man had revealed an unexpected side. Yet, in the end, he felt the man’s sweet and warm embrace. Perhaps he hadn’t fully relieved his stress. It was a funny thought.

“……”

A short time passed, and the performance ended. But something felt lacking. As he decided on the next piece to warm up with, Seo Haeyoon picked up his phone. When he opened the messenger, he saw a newly registered friend at the top.

Beomjoon.

Seeing the name saved cutely, he laughed to himself, put down the bow for a moment, and entered the chat window.

He had spent the entire weekend with the man and only parted ways on Sunday night. The man had said he had to go to work on Monday, and Seo Haeyoon had been busy practicing all day. The practice continued into Tuesday, and tomorrow was the day for joint practice.

He had to meet this man tomorrow, no doubt about it. It was obvious what nonsense the deputy would spout upon seeing him switch to the French bow. The stress from enduring the deputy’s nonsense had to be relieved by Chae Beomjoon from now on.

Anyway, Ahn Yewon was right. Having a sex partner wasn’t a bad thing. He felt at ease already, knowing he wouldn’t have to go to the club with a tired body after practice tomorrow.

Mister 11:42

What are you doing tomorrow?

He sent the message and waited for a moment, but the man didn’t check his message within 10 seconds. Seo Haeyoon frowned in dissatisfaction, realizing it was a habit formed because Daniel, even when cheating, had always responded promptly to his messages. He clicked his tongue, thinking the man would see it eventually, and put his phone aside.

The warm-up continued for a while, and after playing another piece with the French bow, he began serious practice.

The first concert Seo Haeyoon would participate in with the Susun Symphony Orchestra was a special concert held on October 31st for Halloween, featuring a program centered around mysterious and grand pieces.

The list included Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, 2nd movement, “In the Hall of the Mountain King” from “Peer Gynt Suite,” and pieces by Litvinovsky and Albéniz.

He liked the unconventional composition. Seo Haeyoon preferred modern classical pieces over very traditional ones.

He placed the tablet with the sheet music on the music stand he used at home and moved the page turner to his foot. After lightly pressing left and right to check, the pages turned smoothly. Haeyoon flipped back several pages to find the starting point of the double bass part.

In fact, unlike other string instruments like the violin and viola, the double bass rarely played continuously from the beginning to the end of a piece. Whether it was a symphony or a concerto, most pieces had the double bass play only in certain sections where its low tone was needed, so there was more waiting time with the bow down during the piece.

But even with few parts, Haeyoon felt excited and happy. The concerto he heard during joint practice echoed in his mind. Seo Haeyoon played the bow in sync with that music, seriously practicing.

“Ah…”

Haeyoon, who had closed his eyes and then opened them, sighed in frustration and put down the bow. Still holding the double bass, he turned his head to check the panel of the air conditioning system that controlled the temperature and humidity in the house.

The temperature was 25 degrees, and the humidity was 53%.

There was nothing different from usual. The temperature and humidity were maintained at levels suitable for playing, so he couldn’t understand what the problem was.

It had been fine just a while ago. When warming up, he had thought today’s practice would go smoothly. But as soon as he started serious practice, the instrument seemed to harden and bounce back the sound as if the weather had suddenly changed. It would be understandable if it were outside, but it was indoors.

Haeyoon let out a long sigh, checked the sheet music, and picked up the bow again. Pressing the thick strings deeply with his calloused left fingers, he moved the bow with his right hand to play the introduction.

But it was the same as before. The vibration of the strings felt as if it couldn’t resonate through the wooden body of the double bass and was bouncing back. It was a very subtle change that only the player could notice, but every time this happened, Haeyoon felt as if his instrument was rejecting him with all its might. It felt like it was pushing him away, saying he wasn’t worthy of playing it.

“……”

It was a familiar feeling, too familiar to cry over. After calming his upset mind, he took a deep breath. Haeyoon placed the bow on the side table, roughly ran his hand through his hair, and sat down on the chair behind him. A heavy silence flowed, and Haeyoon, supporting his instrument with his left arm, looked at it and spoke.

“Did I do something wrong to you?”

Of course, there was no answer. That made him feel even more resentful. It would have been better if it were a being he could communicate with. If he could hear a definitive “You have no hope,” he would have given up this path long ago. But the instrument was silent, and because of that, Haeyoon couldn’t give up on the one that had produced beautiful sounds just yesterday.

“…Let’s take a break.”

He muttered as if informing the sulking double bass of a break and stood up. Before stepping away, Haeyoon placed the instrument sideways on the stand next to it and took the hygrometer from the case to check the indoor environment once more. He wondered if there might be an issue with the air conditioning system.

However, the temperature and humidity checked on the double bass were not much different from the numbers displayed on the panel. The fact that there was no problem with the instrument came as a small comfort.

Some days are just like that. Days when playing doesn’t go well at all.

String instruments amplify sound by vibrating the wooden body, and sometimes, inexplicably, there are days when the sound just doesn’t come out, as if an invisible barrier exists.

Today was one of those days. On such days, it’s best to take a short break or even quit practice entirely.

However, since tomorrow was a day to go to the practice room, he couldn’t take the day off entirely. He decided to take the walk he had planned for later in advance and got up from his seat.

His slender, long body cast an elegant shadow in front of the large window. After slowly rotating his arms to loosen the stiff muscles, Seo Haeyoon finally stood close to the window.

The weather is nice.

He hadn’t even filled half of the scheduled practice time, so the sun was still up. It seemed perfect to go for a walk now, get some dinner, and return. There were many good restaurants nearby.

Haeyoon went straight to his room, changed clothes, and came out. Wearing a large hoodie and comfortable sweatpants, he took his phone and a card. Plugging in his wireless earphones, he started playing his favorite pianist’s music and left the house.

The place he was currently living in was a house Seo Jonggil had set up for him without his consent when he was in the United States. To bring his son Seo Haeyoon back to Korea, he soundproofed the house and installed a practice platform in the living room. The practice platform was so grand that it included a grand piano for accompaniment and even had lights that could be turned on as if holding a recital. Of course, he had never used those lights; even Seo Haeyoon felt it was a bit too much.

Last year, when Seo Jonggil showed him this house while he was on vacation in Korea, he hadn’t been very impressed. His studio in New York was much better. From that studio, he could see Central Park, which was more like a forest than a park, and the seasonal views were breathtaking.

However, after moving in, he found this house quite nice. It wasn’t as crowded as New York, but a similar neighborhood could be found a bit to the east, and Seoul Forest was right in front, making it perfect for walks or exercise. Haeyoon was growing increasingly fond of this house.

Listening to music, he took the elevator down and checked his messenger on the first floor. He saw that there was a reply to the message he had sent in the morning. The reply had come exactly two minutes after Haeyoon had put down his phone earlier.

Beomjoon

Working? I’m a busy man. 11:44

But what is this attitude…?

Narrowing his eyes, Haeyoon typed quickly as he headed towards the park.

I’m busy too. 13:01

He replied, telling him not to pretend to be busy, and this time, Beomjoon responded immediately, perhaps because he was looking at his phone.

Beomjoon

That’s what I thought.

You reply quickly? 13:01

Are you mocking me? 13:02

Yes, Mister too.

Beomjoon

Responding to me What are you doing tomorrow

Ah, was this sent yesterday? 13:02

I sent it last year, silly. 13:03

Forgetful when you get older, got dementia?

Beomjoon

LOL 13:04

Chae Beomjoon laughed without retorting to the contentious joke. A smile crept onto Seo Haeyoon’s lips as well. The melancholy from the interrupted practice had faded by then.

“They say you turn into a baby when you get dementia. Is that why you’re so childish, Mister?”

Just as he was about to send the reply, the music in his ears stopped, and three white letters appeared on the black screen. Beomjoon. Seo Haeyoon pressed the call button as he crossed the crosswalk.

“Why?”

─ Was it an urgent message?

“I don’t know. It’s been a year, so I don’t remember well.”

Feigning ignorance, he replied, and Chae Beomjoon burst into laughter on the other end of the line. It was a strange laugh, almost like giggling… Anyway, he was laughing as if he was about to pass out.

“Mister, you’re not on your deathbed already, are you? Stop laughing.”

─ What can I do if it’s funny?

“They say you get attached if you laugh. Just tell me what you need before you cry later.”

─ Are you worried I’ll cling to you because I’m attached?

“Yeah, I’m worried you’ll hang yourself because of me.”

A cool breeze brushed his cheek. Seo Haeyoon ran his hand through his messy hair and looked around. It was nice and quiet, probably because it was a weekday.

─ You said that last time too. Seems like a lot of people have been hung up on you?

Even if he didn’t know the ending, it always started that way. Those who started as sex partners and developed into lovers acted as if they would die if Haeyoon didn’t accept their feelings. In hindsight, it was all meaningless emotions.

─ But I told you, I hate that kind of clinginess.

“Then that’s fine.”

─ But I’m curious.

“About what?”

─ The man who left you heartbroken.

“Heartbroken?”

─ Yewon said you went crazy from heartbreak and started dating old men.

Did Ahn Yewon really say that? As he recalled the incident, he remembered something. The day he had mistaken Chae Beomjoon for a rapist and confronted him, leading to a phone call with Yewon, Ahn Yewon had said such nonsense. He didn’t expect him to remember that.

“Oh, so you want to dig up each other’s past now? Are you confident?”

Anyway, he didn’t want to share such stories with someone who would pass by briefly. Seo Haeyoon scoffed and asked, and the man laughed lowly. The sound of his voice resonated like the vibration of the double bass strings.

This is much better than laughing like before. Seo Haeyoon thought as he asked Chae Beomjoon.

“Why did you call? If you don’t have a reason, hang up. We’re not close enough to talk without a reason.”

─ Ah, well.

Despite the harsh words, Chae Beomjoon agreed as if it was nothing. The topic quickly changed.

“Yeah.”

─ I wondered if it was an urgent message. I didn’t mention it before, but I’m quite busy. If you send a message, there’s a high chance I won’t check it immediately. Today, I happened to see it quickly, but when I’m really busy, it might take hours to reply.

“I’m the same.”

─ So if it’s urgent, just call. Even if the phone just rings and you hang up, I’ll check the message first if I see it’s from you. You can send a message first and then call, or just call and tell me directly.

It was a kind explanation. Don’t be upset if the reply is late. But it was also an excessively kind explanation.

“Is there anything urgent enough to call about between us?”

Is there anything urgent enough to call about between people who meet every few days for sex? It didn’t seem like it. So he asked, and Chae Beomjoon gave his usual cheeky answer.

─ Why not? There are moments when you think about sex every five minutes and can’t stand it anymore.

“……”

“You’re thinking about sex every five minutes?” Even Haeyoon, who enjoyed sex more than most, wasn’t on that level. Wasn’t this a little too much? Had he ended up with someone with some strange paraphilia? While he rationally questioned this, the man on the other end of the line continued.

— Call me when that happens. If I can come, I will. Even if it’s in the middle of the night.

It sounded almost like he was advertising his willingness to travel nationwide. Wherever there’s sex, I’ll be there! Haeyoon stifled a laugh, recalling a friend from the U.S. who had once called a male escort.

“You really like sex, Mister.”

— I love it.

And in response to his joke, Chae Beomjoon replied in an earnest voice. The sincerity in his tone was palpable, making Haeyoon laugh out loud during his stroll. Nearby pedestrians turned to look at him, and he flashed a grin at a woman who caught his eye before lowering his head and pressing his phone to his lips.

It felt ironic to say this after suspecting him of being a paraphilic deviant just moments ago, but this conversation reminded Haeyoon of why he had messaged him in the first place. Bringing his purpose back into focus, Haeyoon murmured softly.

“Then, shall we meet tomorrow? In the evening.”

— Yes, I’ll set it as D-Day.

Since the purpose of their meeting was already clear, there was no need for Beomjoon to ask why. His reply, brimming with anticipation for the following day, made Haeyoon chuckle in disbelief. The guy really was something else.

🔮🌙

Wednesday’s rehearsal was exactly as unpleasant as Haeyoon had expected.

The ensemble itself wasn’t bad. Switching to the French bow had apparently been the right choice. Since making the change, the sensation of his playing not blending well with the ensemble had lessened considerably. The conductor seemed satisfied with the results, as Haeyoon received no feedback during practice today.

The problem came afterward. As they were packing up, that flounder-faced associate principal approached him again with another remark.

“Ah, so you’ve switched to the French bow?”

“Yes.”

“See? It’s better to stick with something simple that matches your skills rather than trying German bow for no reason. Much better, don’t you think?”

Did he even understand what he was saying? The French bow was significantly harder to learn and came with more physical challenges. Not to mention, most of the orchestra members used the German bow. And yet, he was telling Haeyoon to “keep it simple” by using the French bow? It was nonsense.

Even so, his point was clear. He was essentially saying Haeyoon should at least use the French bow to try and make up for his challenging tone.

…If I loosen the bow hair as much as possible, could I strangle his thick neck with it? Haeyoon toyed with the thought as he stared up at the associate principal. Fortunately, the man bid him farewell before Haeyoon acted on his imagination, apparently having exhausted his daily quota of petty comments.

“Well, good work. See you next time, huh?”

If he’d stayed a minute longer, Haeyoon might have really lost it. Instead of getting arrested for attempted murder, he walked to the parking lot, slid into his bright yellow SUV, and exhaled a short sigh.

“Ha…”

That breath carried the weight of all the suppressed frustration he had endured. If not for the associate principal, it could’ve been a decent day. Just thinking about that smug face talking about “keeping it simple” made his temples throb.

His thick lips tightened in irritation as he stared ahead. Then, he spotted a group of people across the parking lot—a gaggle of individuals whose faces practically oozed spitefulness.

The double bass associate principal, the violinist associate principal, and several other senior players formed the group. Haeyoon had identified them as the main culprits behind the disruptive atmosphere within the orchestra.

If there was one thing they all had in common, it was their age. Most of them were in their mid-40s or older. These were the very people Ahn Yewon had mentioned when talking about enforcing rigid hierarchies.

Young players like Haeyoon generally ignored them and stuck to themselves, but those in an awkward middle age seemed to struggle. They couldn’t disregard these seniors without risking backlash from their extensive network of connections, yet being around them was uncomfortable.

Haeyoon didn’t need to get close to them to imagine what it would feel like. Just dealing with the associate principal was proof enough.

Starting his car, Haeyoon revved the engine in frustration, sending a deep, resonant roar from the Lamborghini’s V8 engine echoing through the underground parking lot like an orchestra. Startled, the group of senior players froze and turned to look. Haeyoon sped past them, heading straight for the exit to the surface.

Leaving the theater grounds, he checked the time. There were still three hours left until his meeting with Chae Beomjoon. His original plan had been to go home after practice, eat, and then meet him, but his mind felt so tight and exhausted that he couldn’t think straight.

“Simple?”

“Stick to your skill level and keep it simple?”

The associate principal’s single comment kept scratching at Haeyoon’s nerves. It was as if he had studied and pinpointed Haeyoon’s weaknesses, managing to ruin his mood with a single efficient jab.

In any other situation, Haeyoon wouldn’t let someone else’s words sway him so easily. But when it came to the double bass, that was a different story. Though the associate principal’s skill was widely considered “average,” his decades of experience couldn’t be discounted entirely, making it impossible to completely dismiss his nonsense.

It bothered Haeyoon even more because he hadn’t been able to finish his practice properly the day before. Even after returning from a walk, the sound hadn’t come out right. He had forced himself to wrap up practice and go to bed, which made the criticism feel entirely like his own fault. Perhaps he should’ve persevered and practiced late into the night.

But even with soundproofing, playing late at night would’ve led to complaints and calls through the intercom, so he wouldn’t have been able to practice more regardless. Objectively, he knew the situation wasn’t entirely his fault, but the irritation lingered. The sheer frustration of it all weighed on him like a heavy blanket.

“Ah…”

This wouldn’t do. Frowning, Haeyoon let out a sigh and reached for his phone. He unlocked the screen and immediately searched for Beomjoon’s contact.

He half-expected Beomjoon’s call tone to be something serene, like the sound of a brook or a classical melody, given his father-like demeanor. But it was surprisingly plain. Haeyoon listened to the familiar ringing, waiting for him to pick up.

— Yes, this is Chae Beomjoon.

The response took longer than expected, making Haeyoon wonder if he was busy. Still, the voice that greeted him was as familiar as ever, aside from the slight echo, as if he were in a basement or a cave.

“Mister, are you busy?”

— Of course.

His abrupt question received an equally direct response from Beomjoon, skipping over pleasantries.

“Can you come out earlier than we planned?”

— I can, but wasn’t it for dinner?

“Yeah. Can you or can’t you? If not, forget it.”

— Is something wrong?

Sharp as always. But Haeyoon didn’t owe him a detailed explanation—nor did he feel like giving one. He spoke as he pulled over at a red light.

“I want to have sex.”

— What a coincidence. So do I.

“So can you or not?”

— You know, rushing things can be bad for you, Haeyoon.

The affectionate tone grated on his nerves. Was he doing this on purpose? That leisurely voice scraped at Haeyoon’s already fragile composure. Narrowing his eyes, he gritted his teeth and replied in a threatening tone.

“Fine. Then I’ll just go to a club and take my time. Bye.”

— I’ll send you an address.

“…”

— See you soon.

And just like that, Beomjoon agreed. Honestly, whether it was at the hotel lobby or elsewhere, the man always acted coy only to give in eventually. What a weird guy. Pouting, Haeyoon entered the address Beomjoon sent into his navigation system.

Usually, when someone became a casual sex partner, it wasn’t long before they began visiting each other’s homes. Based on past experience, that’s how things tended to go.

So he assumed the address was for Beomjoon’s home. But twenty minutes later, Haeyoon found himself in front of a small restaurant designed like a cozy family home.

What the hell?

Doubting his eyes, Haeyoon parked his car in the lot. I said I wanted sex, and he brings me to a restaurant? Frowning, he got out of the driver’s seat.

But the irritation that had flared up quickly subsided when he saw the menu displayed at the entrance. It was a halal food place serving dishes like gyros and falafel—foods Haeyoon had often eaten in New York.

Though the destination was unexpected, Haeyoon decided to forgive Beomjoon. Just the thought of eating dishes he loved but hadn’t had for over a month brightened his mood. As he flipped through the menu, considering what to order, a voice called out.

“Oh, hello! Are you coming in? Did you make a reservation?”

“Hello. I’m not sure, but could you check if there’s a reservation under Chae Beomjoon or Seo Haeyoon?”

A staff member who had come out to remove a sign smiled brightly at him. Haeyoon returned the smile and asked, prompting an immediate response.

“Yes, there’s a reservation under Chae Beomjoon. Let me show you to your table.”