SMDS Ch 5

Even if some long-buried emotion, covered in a thick layer of dust, became vivid once more, nothing changed. The heart grew a bit more restless, and there was one more reason to lie awake at night, but that was the extent of it.

“…Hey, Jian!”

Jian, who had just tagged his employee ID and passed through the gate, turned his head at the sound of a voice calling him. Park Doyoung waved at him, quickly tagged his own ID, and stepped inside.

“I called out just in case, and it really is you, Jian. Did you have a good weekend?”

“Yeah. How about you, Doyoung?”

“Weekends are mostly the same, you know. Went to a nice restaurant with my girlfriend, hit up a café, and, oh, she wanted to see a movie, so we went to the theater too.”

There was a subtle emphasis on the word “girlfriend.” Hadn’t he said they’d been dating for about a month now? Jian recalled fragments of a conversation shared among team members during lunch. She was his first love from school days, and they’d run into each other by chance. He’d intended to stay just acquaintances, but he still felt something, so he closed his eyes and confessed.

Jian remembered it because his own first love story had some similarities. Of course, the only similarities were that it was a first love from school days and a chance reunion—everything after that was entirely different.

“What did you do this weekend, Jian? Did you, maybe, go on a date? Oh, was that too personal a question?”

If so, I’m sorry, Doyoung added, his quick apology delivered with a straightforward sincerity.

“I went camping with a friend.”

Smiling faintly, Jian answered only one of his questions, recalling the past two days.

“You’re free on weekends now, right? Come on, let’s go. Huh? Seo Jian, all you need to do is show up. Big bro’s got all the gear covered.”

Jung Sehyun, who had inexplicably taken up camping as a hobby a few months ago, was always eager to drag Jian along, saying he didn’t want to go alone. Each time, Jian, swamped with deadlines, had to decline, promising next time, so Sehyun had been biding his time, waiting for an opportunity. When Jian finally had a free weekend, Sehyun must have thought it was the perfect moment.

It was, without a doubt, good timing.

Jian had drawn a line for himself, insisting that his heart was only slightly unsettled, but separately, he wished he had no room to think about anything at all. In moments like that, being with Jung Sehyun was quite helpful, so accepting his proposal felt like a natural course of action.

“Wow, camping? Where to?”

“Paju.”

“Paju? I haven’t been there, but if you come across any good spots, let me know. I’m still a newbie, so I don’t have much gear, but I go camping sometimes too.”

“I just tagged along with my friend… but I’ll ask him to let you know if he finds any good places.”

“Thanks! Camping sounds like fun.”

Jian brushed off the response with a smile.

Fun, he wasn’t sure about, but it was, as expected, helpful to some degree. Sehyun had told him to trust him and just show up, but things went wrong from the start. They were supposed to set up a tent, but while putting up a tarp, one side lost balance and tilted, causing a lot of trouble. In the end, someone else couldn’t stand watching and helped them sort it out.

“Actually, uh… I got a new tent this time. The old one was super easy, but this one’s so complicated.”

Noticing Jian’s sour expression, Jung Sehyun mumbled an excuse. To summarize Sehyun’s words: a camping newbie, barely a few months into the hobby, got greedy and bought fancy gear he didn’t know how to use, bragged about handling everything, and dragged Jian, who knew nothing about camping, along for the ride.

Jian didn’t even have the energy to sigh. Still, thanks to that, he was kept busy figuring things out, leaving no room to think about anything else. The day was exhausting enough that, for the first time in a while, he slept without dreaming, making him wonder if this was Sehyun’s plan all along.

“Talking about camping makes me itch to go too. Once this project’s done, I’m taking a long leave and going camping. …It will end, right?”

Doyoung, who had been excitedly planning his future, quickly sank into worry, letting out a sigh. But soon enough, as if nothing had happened, he’d bounce back with his usual energy. Jian hadn’t called him “Jung Sehyun Number Five” for nothing.

“Oh, by the way, aren’t we having a welcome party for Jian?”

“My welcome party?”

“We’re on the same team, so of course we should have one. I’ll ask the team leader about it when we get upstairs. I bet she’s already thinking about it.”

Sure enough, Doyoung regained his spark, but the topic was Jian himself. A welcome party? It was an unexpected idea. They shared the same floor and office, but they weren’t on the same team. Besides, being part of a team after years felt awkward and ticklish. Even this kind of kindness felt unfamiliar.

The last thing Jian remembered was people awkwardly avoiding him.

“Everyone’s probably busy…”

“They’ll love it. Who’d miss a chance to eat something delicious on the company card?”

Sushi, maybe steak, eel… or how about premium beef? Doyoung was already listing menu options one by one.

“I can’t decide. What do you think for the team dinner menu, Jian?”

“I’m fine with anything…”

“Come on, it’s your welcome party. We should eat what you like.”

“I don’t have any preferences.”

“Even if you’re not picky, there’s gotta be something you like a bit more. Think about it. Preferably something expensive, expensive, and delicious. In that case, maybe premium beef…”

Though Jian dodged answering the near-manic muttering, he could clearly tell where Doyoung’s heart was leaning. Had Sehyun called five people like him? Being with Doyoung, the one most like Jung Sehyun among them, was it making Jian’s head spin? Thanks to that, the restlessness that had been growing as he got closer to the company settled down calmly.

“The elevator’s here.”

The elevator arrived at the lobby floor just then.

During rush hour, the elevator quickly filled up. Jian was pushed into a corner, while Doyoung was shoved to the opposite side. As people got off floor by floor, they could finally breathe. Doyoung, looking exhausted, swore he’d come in early tomorrow—a promise he wouldn’t keep.

They reached the sixth floor while Jian adjusted his disheveled clothes.

“Well, look at that. You two coming in together?”

As Jian stepped out of the elevator, he locked eyes with Team Leader Seo Jungyoon, who was walking toward them. Her eyes widened, and she gave a light wave in greeting.

“Good morning.”

“Team Leader! I saw Jian on my way in, so I called him over, and we came up together. How was your weekend?”

Doyoung, as if he’d never been tired, stepped out of the elevator and started chatting amiably. He whispered something quietly, likely about Jian’s welcome party.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s talk about that later. I’m with a guest right now.”

“Oh, I didn’t see.”

Doyoung scratched his cheek, embarrassed, and took a step forward. Someone was standing at an angle perfectly hidden by the elevator, so Jian hadn’t noticed them either. As he followed Doyoung out, he locked eyes with the guest Seo Jungyoon mentioned.

The moment their gazes met, a smile gradually cooled, dark eyes rippled faintly, and lips twitched for a fleeting moment, as if to hide a tremor.

“…Seo Jian?”

The person who called Jian’s name, with a habit of reacting the same way when flustered as they did back then, was a figure from the corner of Jian’s past.

“Sunbae.”

Do Hamin. Once tied together under the sweet title of lovers, he was also the one who placed a shameful burden on Jian, leaving him to carry it like shackles.

The moment Jian faced him, oddly enough, he thought of Jung Sehyun’s reaction. Sehyun had gritted his teeth, saying that since they were in the same industry, Jian might run into him if he returned to that line of work. What had Jian said in response? Oh, right. He’d said that wouldn’t happen.

Of course, it was just to calm Sehyun down, but Jian had secretly thought they might cross paths someday. They’d need to translate movies or series for the platform’s launch, but that wasn’t Jian’s job, and Floreo didn’t have an in-house translation team yet.

That meant everything would be outsourced, and in this industry, it’s a small world—there was no way Do Hamin’s company wouldn’t be involved. No chance. Still, this reunion was far more sudden than expected.

“You two know each other?”

Seo Jungyoon glanced between them, cautiously broaching the topic. Do Hamin made an “oops” expression but quickly put on a friendly smile and nodded lightly.

“Yes. He’s a junior I worked with before. I was just surprised to see him after so long.”

“I see.”

Realizing they were both in the same industry, Seo Jungyoon nodded in understanding.

“Since it’s been a while, you must be glad to see each other. Why don’t you catch up for a bit, Jian?”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“I’m not that strict. Plus, I have a favor to ask.”

Seo Jungyoon subtly slid a card toward him.

“While you’re down there, could you grab an iced vanilla latte from the café? I’ve got a meeting in 30 minutes, and I still have things to review, so I can’t go myself. Oh, get something for yourself too. The team will eat anything you bring back.”

She rambled, as if making excuses, about needing something sweet before a meeting but not having time to get it because of an early morning meeting. Swallowing a sigh, Jian reluctantly took the card.

“I’ll be back.”

“Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver, Jian! …Oh, Team Leader Do, take care.”

She looked like she might hug Jian any second but quickly composed herself, realizing there was an outsider, and offered a farewell.

“Yes, Team Leader. I hope we can meet again.”

It was a flawless goodbye. The elevator was still on their floor, so they stepped in without waiting. Once alone, Do Hamin quietly dropped his smile. Jian didn’t speak first or give him any particular attention either.

The ride up had been crowded with commuters, but the ride down was empty. The elevator went straight to the lobby without picking anyone up.

Seo Jungyoon had sent them to talk, but there was neither time nor desire for that. Jian nodded curtly, intending to grab the coffee she’d asked for and head back, brushing past Do Hamin.

“…Hey, Jian…!”

Jian turned away first. But Do Hamin, who Jian thought would go his own way, grabbed him. Judging by the confused expression and the way he hurriedly let go of Jian’s clothes, it was clearly an impulsive act.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. …How have you been? Are you still working?”

Do Hamin asked the most predictable, clichéd questions, devoid of any originality.

“Sunbae.”

Jian looked at his former lover. Had it only been a little over two years? He looked no different from the last time they’d met. Some small things seemed to have changed, but Jian had no desire to dig into them.

“Is there something specific you want to hear from me?”

It was a calm question, without a trace of hostility, yet Do Hamin’s eyes wavered as if struck head-on. Was that guilt?

“I just…”

Now, after all this time.

“I was wondering how you’ve been, if you’re doing okay.”

If Jung Sehyun were here, he might have thrown a punch the moment he heard that. Do Hamin was the one who, trembling with nervousness, had confessed to Jian, begging him to accept his feelings, when Jian had only seen him as a good senior. And it was also Do Hamin who, saying he saw no future for them, let go of Jian’s hand and pushed him into the mud.

“I’ve been fine.”

But did Jian hold a grudge or harbor ill feelings? Not really.

“There’s no particular reason I wouldn’t be.”

He’d never held any expectations, knowing love wasn’t eternal.

“Jian.”

“You seem to be doing well too, sunbae. That’s a relief.”

Jian gestured with his eyes toward the ring on Do Hamin’s finger. Do Hamin clenched his fist, as if to hide it, but Jian had already seen and moved on. The ring didn’t stir much in him.

“I think that’s enough of an answer. You should get going, sunbae. People are watching.”

Do Hamin’s gaze briefly darted around. To someone who cared more about others’ eyes than anyone, he wouldn’t try to hold Jian back now. Jian needed to get the coffee Seo Jungyoon asked for before the meeting, but he’d lingered too long.

As Jian walked past him, he paused. His eyes met Cha Jaehwi, who was walking in while on a call.

“…….”

To describe his feelings, it was like being ambushed out of nowhere. His heart, sinking with a thud, struggled to find its place. Biting the inside of his cheek to hide his agitation, Jian managed to bow in greeting.

Nothing should change.

It had to stay that way, yet his heart sank.

He felt glad, then lost, then something in his heart tickled. He couldn’t make sense of himself.

“Nice to see you first thing in the morning. Good morning, Seo Jian.”

Finishing his call as he approached, Cha Jaehwi returned Jian’s greeting.

“How was your weekend?”

“…Good.”

“That’s a relief. You worked so late, you deserve a break.”

Jian wanted to ask how the CEO’s weekend was, but the words caught on his tongue, bound by an invisible chain.

“By the way.”

Cha Jaehwi didn’t finish his sentence, but his gaze over Jian’s shoulder posed a question.

“I’m Do Hamin from Ium.”

Having fully composed himself while observing Jian and Cha Jaehwi, Do Hamin stepped closer to Jian and bowed politely. Ium? Cha Jaehwi mumbled the name softly, then smiled, realizing why Do Hamin was here and greeting him.

Jian felt an inexplicable sinking in his chest.

The conversation with Do Hamin hadn’t been anything special, and it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to overhear.

By the time Cha Jaehwi entered the lobby, Jian had already distanced himself from Do Hamin, so there was no way he could’ve heard.

Yet, Jian’s restlessness stemmed from a growing wish that no malice or rumors about him would reach Cha Jaehwi.

“…….”

While Jian fretted, the two exchanged light conversation—more like pleasantries. It stopped when Cha Jaehwi’s phone rang again. He glanced at the screen.

“Times like this, I wish I had ten bodies.”

Cha Jaehwi shook his head, chuckling with exaggerated complaint.

“Are you heading up, Seo Jian?”

“Oh, the team leader asked me to run an errand, so I’ll be back soon…”

“Alright then. Do Hamin, let’s meet again if we get the chance.”

Jian watched Cha Jaehwi’s broad, upright back move away without hesitation.

When they’d unexpectedly met, his heart had sunk, but now, as Cha Jaehwi left, he felt a sneaky sense of regret.

But it wasn’t just regret. The kind yet ultimately indifferent attitude pricked at Jian. Logically, it was strange to feel this way.

Yet, the fact that Cha Jaehwi hadn’t asked what their relationship was,

The fact that he didn’t seem particularly curious,

“…….”

Why did it feel so disappointing?

Jian had a hunch he’d spend a lot of time today piecing together his scattered thoughts.

Fortunately, his hunch was wrong.

More than his troubled heart, his desire to prove that Cha Jaehwi’s choice in hiring him wasn’t a mistake was stronger. By the time he returned to the office with the coffee, he’d mostly sorted his emotions and could focus on work. Of course, there was also a bit of intent to drown out other thoughts by burying himself in work.

Perhaps because he’d poured too much energy into work while still fatigued, his complexion looked worse as time passed. Unable to watch, his teammates pushed him to go home.

“Wow, is this really weather for humans to be out in?”

By the time Jian got home, the sun was setting. Lying on the porch, staring blankly at the sky, he turned his head. Jung Sehyun was climbing up, flapping his shirt roughly.

“You’re here?”

“Why are you out here moping in this heat? Trying to get heatstroke?”

Standing in front of Jian, perhaps to block the sun, Jung Sehyun pulled an ice cream from a bag and handed it over.

“Thanks.”

Jian half-sat up, took it, and glanced at Sehyun, who sat beside him, peeling his own ice cream. Earlier, Sehyun had called to check on him, and during their talk, Jian mentioned running into Do Hamin. Sehyun had exploded, raging as if he’d chase Do Hamin down and flip him over, but now he seemed relatively calm.

“What did that bastard say when you saw him?”

Time really is medicine, Jian thought, relieved he wouldn’t need to calm Sehyun down. About to bite into the melting ice cream, he swallowed a sigh.

“What’s there to say?”

“Still, with a mouth like his, he must’ve said something.”

Can’t you at least let me eat the ice cream you brought? Jian felt like he’d melt in this heat, but Sehyun showed no sign of letting up until he got an answer.

“He asked if I was doing okay.”

Jian tried to choose words that wouldn’t rile Sehyun, but that was really all Do Hamin had said.

“Shameless jerk. That’s what he says now?”

Sehyun’s face twisted.

Jian grabbed his sleeve, half-expecting him to jump up and say he’d go punch Do Hamin, while also wondering if it was worth getting this mad over.

He and Do Hamin had been school senior and junior, worked at the same company through Do Hamin’s introduction, and dated for about two years after Do Hamin’s confession. For Jian, it wasn’t a relationship that started with deep affection. He’d received so much from Do Hamin, but he couldn’t bring himself to reject the trembling, nervous confession.

It started lukewarm but turned out better than expected.

Do Hamin was, in some ways, a good person. Perhaps because he worked with language or due to his nature, he was sensitive and never forced anything on Jian.

Moderate duty, appropriate neglect. The lukewarm relationship, never boiling, lasted longer than expected, and Jian thought it wasn’t bad. More precisely, only Jian thought it wasn’t bad.

One day, news of Do Hamin’s engagement reached him—not from Do Hamin, but through another colleague.

The day before, Do Hamin had slept at Jian’s place and gone to work with him.

When Jian asked if it was true, Do Hamin lowered his head without a word, but that was answer enough. Jian didn’t ask more, didn’t blame him, didn’t even try to hold on. The lukewarm relationship ended as lukewarmly and predictably as it began.

If it had ended there, it wouldn’t have been so bad.

But someone passing by overheard their conversation—or rather, Jian’s question—out of context. The story spread like wildfire. Seo Jian’s a homo, they said. He’s dating a guy who’s getting married. No, actually, he’s with a married man.

The shallow gossip and malice reached Jian’s ears much later. It was too late to fix. Do Hamin, having heard the rumors, kept his distance to avoid being linked with Jian. Unable to ask for help from his ex or find a solution, Jian’s only choice was to retreat.

Maybe he called it retreat, but in truth, he was partly forced out.

After that, he scrambled to survive, and as much time passed as the time he’d spent with Do Hamin. Unless Jung Sehyun was fuming, Jian rarely thought of him.

“Bastard! I should’ve crashed his damn wedding.”

“Do you even know when the wedding was?”

“Who cares about that crap!”

“Then how’re you gonna go find it and crash it?”

“It’s just a figure of speech. Just words.”

Jung Sehyun bit into his ice cream with such ferocity, as if it were his sworn enemy, and swallowed it down. But it didn’t quell his anger. If anything, seeing Jian calmly eating his ice cream only made him more furious.

If anyone should be angry, it wasn’t him—it was Seo Jian, the one who’d been wronged.

Do Hamin had betrayed Seo Jian. There was no other word to describe it. Compromising with reality? Sure, that could happen. But if he’d decided to break up to conform to reality, he should’ve at least done it with some decency. Not like that, not with such cowardice. Not by turning his back on a former lover in distress.

‘Sehyun, don’t get mad. It’s already in the past. I’m fine.’

When Jian suddenly quit his stable job to go freelance, Jung Sehyun had his doubts but didn’t pry too much. Jian had a way of seeming laid-back while being sharp about his work. Plus, Sehyun was swamped with the opening of Cheongyeonjae at the time—handling interior design, hiring, and promotion left him wishing he had ten bodies. And, despite his jealousy, he trusted that Do Hamin, who was so devoted, would take care of Jian. Looking back, it was an utterly naive assumption.

One day, Jian didn’t answer his phone all day. Worried, Jung Sehyun went to check on him and found Jian collapsed on the floor.

He rushed him to the emergency room, where they said it was overwork. The moment he heard that, Sehyun called Do Hamin. When Hamin finally picked up just before the call dropped, Sehyun explained the situation. Hamin hesitated for a long time before asking if Jian hadn’t told him anything. He didn’t ask where they were or say he was coming.

Something felt off, so when Jian finally came to, Sehyun pressed him for the full story. His neck stiffened, and his vision turned red with rage. The only reason he didn’t go straight to throttle Do Hamin was because of Jian, who showed no trace of emotion.

“If I were you, I’d have humiliated that bastard so bad he couldn’t show his face anywhere.”

How could he do that?

Looking back, Jian was always like that. Whether it was a short fling or a longer relationship, he was unfazed by breakups. When asked if he was okay, he’d just give a faint smile and brush it off.

“Mm.”

Perhaps deciding that responding would only rile Sehyun up more, Jian offered a vague hum. It was Sehyun who burned himself out. If the person involved said he was fine, what was the point of getting worked up? And, as Jian said, it was a long time ago. To Seo Jian, Do Hamin was someone who no longer held any meaning.

It was just a damn coincidence that they’d crossed paths, and it probably wouldn’t happen again. Even if it did, if Hamin had any shame, he wouldn’t act familiar like he did this time. Swallowing his bitter frustration, Jung Sehyun came to one conclusion.

“Seo Jian. Don’t you know anyone worth meeting? No one you’re interested in?”

He wanted Jian to start seeing someone. Partly to show that bastard up, but more than that, he wished Jian had someone by his side, someone he could rely on. Ideally, not someone who just seemed good, but someone genuinely good.

Jian could be a bit precarious at times when left alone.

In that sense, Yoon Haeyoung would’ve been perfect. Even to Jung Sehyun, who had no interest in guys, Haeyoung was good-looking, tall, and striking. His style suggested his barista job might just be a hobby—always dressed in expensive clothes. Not flashy or showy, though; it was the kind of subtle quality that only those in the know would recognize. Sehyun couldn’t help but wonder if Yoon Haeyoung was some rich family’s heir.

But beyond all that, Haeyoung was upright and dependable—perfect for Seo Jian.

If only Jian hadn’t been so adamant…

“…Huh?”

Jung Sehyun blinked.

A delayed, dazed response and a subtle shift in expression. Sehyun’s gut told him Jian was hiding something.

“You’ve got something, don’t you?”

“…….”

“Seo Jian. You’ve definitely got something. Spill it to your big bro, every single detail. Right now!”

He could smell it. This was unusual. Had Seo Jian ever shown such clear interest in someone before? Sehyun had known him long enough to know the rough outline of his dating history, but he’d never dug deep. One thing he knew for sure: Jian had never been hung up on anyone. Even Do Hamin, that bastard, had been jealous of their friendship.

And yet, Jian was this shaken?

“Nothing.”

“…….”

“Really, there’s nothing. I just remembered they’re planning a team dinner the day after tomorrow.”

Jung Sehyun’s narrowed eyes fixed on Jian with relentless scrutiny. If Yuwol were around, he could’ve distracted him, but Yuwol had already polished off the food Sehyun left out and wandered off somewhere. The cat had its own routine, and it’d be a while before it curled up in the hideout Sehyun had set up.

Sehyun’s sharp intuition wasn’t news to Jian. He’d tried not to let anything slip, but Cha Jaehwi popped into his mind when Sehyun asked. He tried to hide his belated reaction, but the milk was already spilled.

“What, you don’t want to talk about it?”

When Jian hesitated for too long, Sehyun’s intensity softened. That’s how he was. If Jian showed even a hint of reluctance or unease, Sehyun wouldn’t push or force him.

“…I just ran into my first love.”

Oddly, Sehyun backing off made it easier to open up. When he thought about it, it wasn’t exactly a secret. There was no relationship, nor would there be one.

“So that’s why. My heart’s all over the place.”

Could a feeling be summed up with a word like “unsettled”? It nagged at him, piqued his interest, made him curious, and then left him feeling hurt over nothing.

“…What?”

Jung Sehyun’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“What!”

Jian quickly reached out, clamping a hand over Sehyun’s mouth before he could raise his voice further.

“Be quiet. The neighbors downstairs will complain about the noise. …You’ll keep it down, right?”

Sehyun nodded. His eyes, sparkling with intrigue, showed no trace of his earlier anger. Should Jian have kept up the act? It wasn’t a secret, but the thought of satisfying Sehyun’s curiosity suddenly felt daunting.

The rest of the day was going to feel long.

Jian swallowed a sigh.

👓

The restaurant was moderately lively as the evening crowd filled the seats. The sizzling sound of meat grilling and the mouthwatering aroma surrounded them. Jian found the bustle unfamiliar after so long.

“Whoa! It’s been ages since I had meat like this.”

Park Doyoung snapped a photo of the neatly arranged meat on the grill, letting out an exclamation of awe.

“Doyoung, you’re sending that to your girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Lee Sowon, quick to catch the meaning behind his actions, teased him. Doyoung gave an awkward laugh but didn’t put his phone down.

“I didn’t know Doyoung was that devoted to his girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t everyone do this much?”

“Oh, come on!”

The other team members waved their hands in mock horror. Being around the same age, their interests were similar. Tips for avoiding breakups, good date spots, which recent dramas were worth watching—the topics bounced around freely. Seo Jungyoon, with an exasperated “Oh, come on,” tossed in her own comments here and there.

Jian knew they were outgoing and energetic, but they’d probably been holding back at the office. In this private setting, they were even more chaotic, and Jian struggled to keep up with the flow.

“Are we talking too much?”

“No, not at all. It’s fun listening to everyone. You’re all great conversationalists.”

Noticing Jian quietly listening without joining in, Seo Jungyoon spoke up, perhaps feeling a bit awkward. This gathering was, after all, nominally to welcome Jian, so she seemed concerned.

But Jian didn’t mind the atmosphere. In fact, he liked it.

It wasn’t about enjoying it, exactly, but listening to people’s conversations sometimes sparked new ideas. Unlike books, videos often relied on the flavor of dialogue. It was useful for picking up trendy slang or current phrases. He’d even considered sitting in a busy café downtown when he had time, but now, with such lively examples right in front of him, he was quite satisfied.

“That’s a relief, then.”

Seo Jungyoon, who’d been studying Jian, seemed to decide his words were genuine and leaned back, sipping her soju. Jian followed suit, taking a small sip.

Just one sip, and his stomach felt cold and hot at the same time.

Was it fatigue? He was already exhausted, and being grilled by Jung Sehyun for so long could’ve added to it. He’d better not drink too much. Assessing his condition, Jian set his glass down just as Seo Jungyoon spoke again.

“By the way, Jian, how’s work going?”

“I’m doing my best.”

“Well, you’re always hardworking.”

As it happened, he’d uploaded the first episode to the cloud today. He’d watched the video and translated it in a tone he thought was appropriate, but if Cha Jaehwi didn’t like it, he was prepared to scrap it and start over. He wasn’t sure when Jaehwi would review it or respond, though.

“You may not know, but the CEO is a bit, well, very particular. So don’t stress about it too much.”

Realizing “a bit” wasn’t quite right, she quickly corrected herself. Even “very” seemed like a mild choice.

“What he says usually makes sense in hindsight, but it can be annoying sometimes.”

Seo Jungyoon poured herself more soju and downed it in one go. It happened so fast Jian didn’t even have a chance to refill her glass. Probably because she dealt with Cha Jaehwi the most, she seemed to have a lot pent up. Jian gave a vague smile, picking up a piece of cooked meat with tongs and placing it on her plate. Since he hadn’t clashed with Jaehwi as much, it felt awkward to add anything.

“But it seems like the CEO’s got his eye on you, Jian.”

Thankfully, it seemed she only wanted to offer advice, as she shifted the topic.

“…Sorry?”

“When I mentioned your welcome dinner today, he asked where it was, told us to eat and enjoy without worrying, and even casually said to make sure you settle in well.”

Well, he brought you on, so of course he’d care, she added, but Jian barely registered it. The idea that Cha Jaehwi was paying attention to him was just Seo Jungyoon’s guess, yet it stuck in his mind, echoing.

Despite resolving to drink lightly, Jian downed the rest of his glass in one go.

“Eat some meat with it.”

Just as Jian had done for her, Seo Jungyoon placed a piece of meat on his plate.

“What’s this? Why’re you two whispering?”

“Let us in! I want to talk to Jian too!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The team members, who’d been engrossed in their own chatter, jumped in.

“You guys were the ones ignoring us and going off on your own!”

“When did we do that?”

“Exactly, we never did!”

They played dumb, then burst into laughter at their own antics. Thanks to their chaotic energy, Jian could push aside the words that had lodged in his mind.

“The meat’s ready—let’s all cheers!”

Lee Sowon grinned, raising her filled glass and giving it a light shake.

“Then how about a word from today’s star, Jian?”

All eyes, sparkling with anticipation, turned to him. He hesitated but picked up his glass, struggling to find the right words. A team dinner? It’d been over two years, and the memory was hazy.

“Thank you for welcoming me like this.”

Noticing everyone holding up their glasses, Jian chose safe, neutral words. They weren’t people he’d known long, but they didn’t seem like the type to nitpick a bland toast, which made it possible.

“Cheers!”

As expected, the team laughed and clinked their soju glasses together. Jian downed his in one go again. It was still bitter and hot, but having eaten some meat beforehand made it slightly better.

“Do you drink well, Jian?”

“Just… moderately.”

“People who say that are usually the heavy drinkers.”

Park Doyoung poured more soju into Jian’s empty glass, eyeing him suspiciously.

It was a fair guess. Jian’s tolerance varied with his condition, but he could generally keep up with others. In college, working part-time left little time for drinking, so he didn’t have much to compare to. But in the working world, he realized he could hold his own.

Of course, if he was in bad shape or mixed drinks, he’d get drunk faster than usual.

The problem was, today was one of those off days. He knew he should pace himself, but since the dinner was in his honor, he felt obliged to match the group’s energy to some extent.

Jian set down his empty glass and busied himself with his chopsticks.

Kim Sujin had boasted that this place was a hidden gem, and she wasn’t wrong—it was delicious. The meat was tender, juicy, and free of any off flavors. Even for Jian, who wasn’t picky about food, it was impressive. He’d probably think of this place next time he craved meat.

“Seeing you eat so well makes me proud.”

Kim Sujin’s hobby was finding great restaurants and spreading the word. She couldn’t hide her satisfaction when someone enjoyed a place she recommended. Seeing Jian so content, she shrugged her shoulders smugly.

“By the way, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

Kim Sujin suddenly pushed aside the person next to her and leaned in, speaking in a hushed tone.

“Are you seeing anyone, Seo Jian?”

“Sujin, that’s personal. I asked something like that before and realized it was out of line, so I apologized right away.”

Before Jian could respond, Park Doyoung, who’d been focused on eating meat, cut in. Still, he stole a glance at Jian, clearly curious.

“No, I didn’t want to ask, but my friend kept pestering me.”

Kim Sujin, catching the mood, explained herself.

Her story went like this: when they’d all gone to a café together, she’d posted a selfie on social media, and Jian had been faintly visible in the background. It was so subtle she hadn’t noticed, but her friend spotted him and started asking who he was, if he had a girlfriend, and so on.

“He was barely in the shot, and it was out of focus, so his face was blurry. But she was so insistent. Must be a hopeless romantic with annoyingly sharp eyes. …I should’ve been more careful. I’m sorry.”

Finishing her explanation, Kim Sujin apologized, worried Jian might be upset about being exposed to strangers. Jian was caught off guard but not offended. She’d taken the post down right away, it wasn’t intentional, and it’s not like his face being seen would cause any trouble.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“So…”

These people really didn’t know the rumors about him. At this point, it wasn’t them pretending—it was genuine ignorance. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be asking if he was interested in being set up with a friend. It hadn’t been long, and it was better they didn’t know, so they could all part ways without awkwardness.

“But, um, I don’t think it’d work out. Sorry.”

Looking back, he’d always been less interested in romance than his peers, but the moment he fell for his first love—Cha Jaehwi—he’d solidified his sexual identity. The few people he’d dated were all the same gender as him. Putting aside his feelings for Jaehwi, he had no choice but to decline.

“No need to apologize, it’s all good!”

Kim Sujin waved her hands exaggeratedly at Jian’s apology.

“The meat’s getting overcooked. Eat up, and let’s cheers again.”

Wanting to shift the focus, she raised her glass for another toast. Jian’s resolve to drink lightly faltered once more. All eyes were still on him.

It seemed they’d interpreted his words as meaning he was seeing someone, as Park Doyoung’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. It wasn’t hard to guess he’d bring it up later when they were alone.

“Jian’s been quite the topic of interest lately. Some people are gonna be disappointed.”

“Huh?”

“Alright, enough prying into personal lives. Let’s eat and drink.”

Seo Jungyoon didn’t elaborate on her cryptic remark. Jian tilted his head but figured it wasn’t important and joined the flow of conversation as it naturally shifted.

Was it because they’d been passing drinks around so quickly? Or maybe he’d just had too much. His head felt foggy. The others, too, were flushed or nodding off, having drunk plenty.

“We should hit up a second round…”

I know all the hot bars nearby, Kim Sujin mumbled, a glint of determination in her eyes.

“You know we’ve got back-to-back meetings tomorrow, Sujin. Second round? No way.”

“But…”

As the team leader, Seo Jungyoon was the only one holding it together, though her face was flushed too. She looked exhausted, clearly desperate to go home.

It seemed they’d wrap up soon. Jian stood up. Slow, curious gazes followed him.

“Just heading to the bathroom.”

“Alright.”

Seo Jungyoon waved him off.

“You’re actually going to the bathroom, right?”

Park Doyoung, swaying like a pendulum, asked slowly but with a hint of intrigue. It was obvious. He wanted to ask if Jian was sneaking off to call his girlfriend, but the last shred of his rationality held him back.

Jian smiled wordlessly and, instead of heading to the bathroom, stepped outside. The bathroom was just an excuse. He wasn’t calling a nonexistent girlfriend either—it was the drinking that made him crave a cigarette. Unable to find a smoking area, he sat on the edge of a quiet flowerbed near the parking lot, rummaging through his pockets for his pack.

“Ugh…”

No cigarettes. He checked again, but no amount of looking would make them appear.

Why don’t I have any? Then he remembered—Jung Sehyun had confiscated his pack yesterday. He’d meant to buy more on his way to work, but he was tired and distracted and forgot.

Should he go buy some? The convenience store wasn’t that close, and the group would probably disperse soon. Seo Jungyoon didn’t seem keen on a second round, and even if she was, no one looked in any shape for it.

‘We’re adults who have to think about tomorrow, so let’s keep it reasonable, okay?’

At first, everyone seemed mindful of work the next day, but at some point, they got carried away. The drinks kept flowing, and Jian, who’d only meant to go along with the vibe, was now noticeably tipsy. His poor condition likely made it worse.

Jian slapped his cheeks lightly.

If he wasn’t going to buy cigarettes, he should head back. That way, they could wrap up.

Maybe it was the heat, but his buzz felt stronger than before. He tried pinching his cheeks instead of slapping them, but it only hurt—his mind didn’t clear up.

“…Ah!”

Already unsteady, he tripped over a rock and stumbled.

“Careful. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Jian, lurching as he lost his balance, was steadied by a hand from behind, narrowly avoiding a fall. Even in his drunken state, he bowed and mumbled a thank you, only to hear an amused chuckle.

“You’re this drunk already?”

Why did that voice sound familiar? Jian, now standing firmly, turned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Was he dreaming? Standing right there was Cha Jaehwi.

“You drank this much? You reek of alcohol. Don’t tell me everyone’s in the same state as you, Seo Jian.”

It seemed like he was asking something, but Jian couldn’t quite grasp it. Perhaps Cha Jaehwi attributed Jian’s blank stare and lack of response to drunkenness, as he glanced around.

“I’m going to step inside for a moment, so stay put right here.”

Cha Jaehwi sat Jian back down on the flowerbed where he’d been moments before and quickly walked off. Jian blinked at his retreating figure, but in an instant, Cha Jaehwi was gone.

It must be a dream, no doubt.

There’s no way he would’ve been here. Seo Jungyoon hadn’t mentioned anything, and there was no reason for him to come.

Convinced that what he’d seen was a hallucination, Jian considered standing up but stayed seated. Even if it was dream-Cha Jaehwi who’d told him to stay put, he’d said to sit still. Besides, his eyelids were heavy, and no thoughts came to mind.

Each slow blink revealed people leaving the restaurant, standing far off at the crosswalk. Were they teleporting? Could teleportation exist in reality? Wasn’t that something only possible in novels? Or perhaps, because it existed, novels had depicted it.

“…….”

He was definitely drunk. His thoughts were bouncing around chaotically, a sure sign. He could count on one hand the times he’d drunk this much, but these erratic thoughts were one of his drinking habits.

He just wanted to go home and sleep.

“…Mr. An.”

At least he wouldn’t have nightmares tonight.

“…Jian.”

With all these jumbled thoughts rising and fading in his drunken state.

“Seo Jian.”

A persistent voice calling his name made him lift his heavy eyelids. Filling Jian’s vision was Cha Jaehwi’s face.

“It’s raining. Are you falling asleep?”

Rain? Only then did he hear the patter of raindrops. The wet ground, the distinct smell of rain. And an umbrella tilted over him. Was Cha Jaehwi destined to appear in his dreams tonight instead of nightmares?

“…….”

Maybe he’d been thinking of him too often these past few days.

“Can you stand?”

Even in a dream, Cha Jaehwi was too kind.

“…CEO.”

Kind enough that he didn’t want to shatter this illusion.

“Can’t you get up?”

Did he really need to break it? He’d wake from this dream eventually, whether he wanted to or not. So he wanted to follow his heart. It was a dream, after all. His dream. Jian looked at the hand gripping his shoulder, then impulsively tilted his head up.

Their lips met.

Cha Jaehwi stared, bemused, at Seo Jian, who, half-conscious with drink and sleep, had inexplicably pressed his lips to his.

He’d heard from Seo Jungyoon about the dinner. During a conversation, it came up that they were holding a welcome dinner for Seo Jian today. He’d asked where it was, but it was a formality—he hadn’t planned to go. His presence as the CEO would likely make everyone uncomfortable, and even if it didn’t, Cha Jaehwi was plenty busy.

He had an overseas business trip for a film screening and other matters he needed to oversee, with a mountain of tasks to handle beforehand. To exaggerate slightly, he needed ten bodies to keep up.

Still, the reason he’d changed his mind and come here was, undeniably, Seo Jian. More precisely, it was the translated draft Jian had uploaded to the cloud.

Though he’d only glanced at it briefly amidst his rushed preparations for tomorrow’s early-morning departure, he liked the direction Jian was taking. At Sky Garden, Jian had seemed to ponder his words deeply, and now he’d delivered such a satisfying result. There’d be no complaints about the translation being a flaw.

He was pleased.

Perhaps that satisfaction softened him. On his way home, Cha Jaehwi recalled the dinner, sent Yang Junghoon ahead, and turned his car around. His plan was to drop by briefly, show his face, cover the bill, and leave. That was the proper role of a boss.

That was certainly his intention—until he caught Seo Jian stumbling and nearly falling in a deserted spot.

He didn’t know how Jian had gotten so drunk he could barely stand, but rather than haul him back inside, it was easier to go in alone. The scene inside wasn’t much different. The pile of empty bottles on the table explained Jian’s state well enough.

Thankfully, Seo Jungyoon was still coherent, so he entrusted her with wrapping things up, handed over his card, and stepped out. The air felt humid, and a few raindrops began to fall. He borrowed an umbrella from the restaurant counter. Seo Jian was nodding off, head bobbing, despite the rain.

When he woke him, Seo Jian stared at him for a long moment before suddenly kissing him.

It was less a kiss and more their lips merely touching.

Cha Jaehwi had noticed that Seo Jian had a crush on him.

He’d first realized it at Sky Garden. The way Jian seemed flustered whenever they brushed past each other, the way he reacted to every word Cha Jaehwi said, the way he shook his hand as if unconsciously bothered by the faint smell of cigarettes before taking a paper cup from him—small actions like that.

How to put it? It felt… novel.

Cha Jaehwi observed Seo Jian. Things he’d previously overlooked now stood out clearly.

Seo Jian avoided his gaze. When their eyes were about to meet, he’d deliberately look elsewhere. But when Cha Jaehwi turned away, he could feel Jian’s stare. Then, when Cha Jaehwi looked back, Jian would gaze blankly for a few seconds before pretending nothing had happened.

In hindsight, Seo Jian had always been like this.

Cha Jaehwi suddenly felt an urge to toss a stone into the calm lake of Jian’s demeanor.

‘I’ll drive you home since it’s late.’

From the elevator to the lobby, Jian kept stealing glances while seeming desperate to escape. Offering to drive him home was a whim, despite knowing it’d mean a detour. Cha Jaehwi decided to take on the inconvenience for once.

Jian politely declined, but he couldn’t fully refuse. Seeing him barely answer with short responses, clearly uncomfortable, Cha Jaehwi felt a strange curiosity again.

Before he could reach any conclusion, the navigation announced they’d arrived. Jian, thanking him and trying to rush out, got caught on his seatbelt. Watching him fumble, Cha Jaehwi leaned toward him.

A momentary pause in breath, trembling eyes, a hand flinching under his palm.

The wavering scale tipped decisively to one side.

“Seo Jian. Do you like me?”

That Seo Jian liked him—his lips against Cha Jaehwi’s were clear proof.

“Why?”

Despite his certainty, he was curious about the reason.

They hadn’t crossed paths often. Once at a screening, once for a proposal meeting, once to sign the contract, once at Sky Garden, and today. He could count the encounters on one hand. Had there been any emotional connection? Not really.

Maybe there was no need to wonder—it could be a feeling as light as a feather.

“…….”

Seo Jian, who’d kissed him in a way even kids playing house wouldn’t, stared at Cha Jaehwi with hazy eyes before silently lowering his gaze. Sometimes, silence was an answer.

It was almost too easy.

In many ways.

When Cha Jaehwi playfully extended his hand, Jian hesitantly placed his own on top. A cool touch met his.

“Have you acted like this with others?”

With that married man he was supposedly involved with? Had he been cautious to hide his feelings but ultimately failed, revealing his heart in this flustered, unguarded way?

It was easy to imagine someone falling for it. That face, looking forlorn just by lowering its gaze, baring emotions it couldn’t hide—it didn’t seem hard to cross that line.

“What… cologne do you use, CEO?”

Either he hadn’t heard or the question was utterly random.

“Out of nowhere?”

“What food do you like? Is there anything you dislike? You’re not a picky eater, are you?”

Listening quietly, it was the incoherent rambling of a drunk. Curious how far it’d go, Cha Jaehwi let him continue, and questions poured out like a dam breaking. What do you like, CEO? You’re always so busy—do you have any hobbies? Do you like watching movies? I like them. And so on.

Instead of answering the flood of questions, Cha Jaehwi propped his chin with his free hand—the one not holding the umbrella—and glanced at Seo Jian. Flushed cheeks, perhaps from the alcohol or some other emotion; hair swaying in the warm breeze; a faint trace of his natural scent amidst the smell of liquor.

“…….”

Seo Jian’s words slowed under Cha Jaehwi’s unabashed gaze, then stopped altogether.

Their eyes locked for a long moment.

“…Why.”

Seo Jian was the first to speak again.

“Why do you… look at me like that?”

“Well.”

Perhaps due to the alcohol, Jian’s candid emotions flickered like flames in his light-colored eyes.

“Do you not like it?”

“No… no.”

Despite his drunken state, Seo Jian shook his head firmly, denying it. Cha Jaehwi, chuckling at the sight, tapped his cheek with the hand that had been propping his chin.

What should he do with this?

Plenty of people had shown him this kind of affection. Some were men, not infrequently. Cha Jaehwi had never bothered to push away such impure intentions. He’d never found a reason to.

Because getting hurt was never his burden.

“Seo Jian.”

This time was no different.

“Shall we go home?”

The one who’d get hurt wouldn’t be him.