SMS | Chapter 3.5

The “closed” sign hung outside Dohwa Animal Hospital, but inside, there was an unwelcome guest. Eunjoo appeared just as Dohoon decided not to leave work yet, hoping Mino might show up.

“Damn it, I’m so tired.”

“Watch your language. You’re thirty-two and still talk like that.”

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She cursed the moment she appeared, causing Dohoon to frown at the arrival of his less-than-welcome friend. His face, usually hidden from the patrons of the animal hospital, turned sharp and cold. Eunjoo, however, didn’t care and continued to vent.

“You should see the people I deal with. You think I can quit swearing? Do you even know the troubles of a divorce lawyer?”

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“I’d rather not know.”

“The guy insists he went to a hotel with his mistress but didn’t have sex. Imagine having to nod and smile through that bullshit. You chose the right job, Dohoon. Animals don’t spout such idiotic crap.”

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“Just take your cats and go.”

“I came here to pick them up, asshole. Oh, my princesses must have missed me so much. I wonder if this grumpy jerk bothered you.”

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It just so happened she came to pick up the cats today, so he had to accompany her to his house where the cats were. If she had told him beforehand, he could have brought them in the morning.

Eunjoo often left her cats with him so frequently that they must think of his place as a holiday home. He didn’t mind, as she occasionally looked after the hospital’s animals in return.

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“Why do you always come at closing time?”

“If I see you trying to act nice during work, I’ll throw up everything I ate yesterday.”

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“If you throw up, be ready to face a damage claim. And that’s not the point. You should call before you show up. I could have brought them in the morning.”

“Well, I was heading straight to your place but saw the clinic lights on and decided to drop by. Did you want me to wait outside your house?”

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“There’s another reason you’re here, isn’t there?”

“Well, maybe I needed to check something.”

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Dohoon couldn’t hide his irritation as Eunjoo smirked. Since he hadn’t heard from Mino, it seemed best to head home for the day.

“Let’s go. We’re going home.”

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After checking his phone one last time and seeing no new messages from Mino, he resigned himself to a quiet evening. They walked out together, their tall figures could be mistaken for a couple from a distance.

“I’ll leave first today. Be sure to stop by the clinic tomorrow.”

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He left a message just in case Mino showed up later. As soon as he sent it, the ‘1’ indicating an unread message disappeared, but no reply came. He might be busy or working late, so Dohoon put his phone away and turned to Eunjoo.

“You got something going on?”

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Eunjoo, who complained about his smiling face, smirked back, trying to probe.

“Switched clubs? You met ‘J’ there? Did you guys fight over some guy?”

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How far could she guess from that brief exchange?

“You should’ve been a detective, not a lawyer.”

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“Did I get it right? Really? Wow, jackpot.”

She was right and wrong. The conflict did involve a man, but the setting wasn’t a club, and the man wasn’t a submissive but a regular person. Dohoon threw a casual comment to his only wicked friend.

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“I’m thinking about dating someone.”

“Why would you discuss such a delicate matter with me?”

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“Because I’m conflicted.”

Eunjoo, usually unable to resist juicy gossip, showed little interest in Dohoon’s romantic dilemmas.

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“Dr. Lee Dohoon has worries too, huh? What’s it about? Do it like you always do. Met a girl you like? Then you’ll date and hit the clubs for play as usual. Looking for a male sub. Ugh, you scumbag.”

Eunjoo knew his past too well and didn’t hesitate to attack him personally. She detested his ‘rules’. Disgusted by her harsh words, he opened the door and revealed his thoughts.

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“I’m thinking of dating a man.”

“Are you talking about dating now, Doctor?”

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“Cancel what I said about being a detective. You’re terrible at picking up clues.”

As they stepped into the garden, Sowol looked at them through the window. Mentioning dating and then seeing a man was a new idea for Dohoon, and Eunjoo’s expression twisted into one of utter confusion.

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“Ah, shit. This isn’t twenty questions, just spit it out straight. It’s not like I’m paying you to make me rack my brain.”

“I’m serious. Thinking of seeing a man.”

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“You always had a rule: women for dating, men for play.”

“What if I change it?”

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That was the rule Eunjoo hated: romantic partners were women; play partners were men. The reason was simple: it was not easy to naturally meet a submissive offline.

Those who showed interest in him in real life were always women, and he wasn’t averse to them, so he dated them. But to satisfy his other needs without ruining real-life relationships, he kept his public and private lives separate.

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“Met someone cute by chance. Not a bad deal to keep him around.”

“Dating a man? Keeping the partner separate?”

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“If I feel like it?”

He was merely contemplating including men as potential romantic partners, reflecting on his brief flings and considering a new approach as he got older.

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Being thirty-two meant most women approaching him now had marriage in mind, which he hadn’t seriously considered yet.

Seeing a charming young man openly show interest might be something to explore. Besides, Mino was different. Curiously interesting.

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“Anyway, you’re a trash bag. Instead of comforting your fellow deviants, you hurt your colleague, you bastard. You’ll get it all back. And you know being more offensive to normals than kinks, right?”

As they entered the house, Eunjoo busied herself greeting Sowol and petting Yeono and Seo. Despite their closeness, he never shared intimate details of his relationships, so if she misunderstood, there was no need to correct her.

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“I’m not having sex with the partner, just playing.”

“Stuffing your throat isn’t sex?”

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Years ago, his public play at a club was mentioned, clearly still bothering her. As for relationships, she only imagined the scenes of play, not knowing the reality.

“Just putting it in the mouth.”

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Annoyed to even have to explain, Dohoon replied irritably, worsening Eunjoo’s expression.

“Isn’t an imitation of sex still sex? You know stuffing the anal is the same, right?”

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“My taste is to put other things in a play partner’s holes, not my dick.”

“Ah, yes. You’re so clean. Human bleach.”

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Dohoon suddenly remembered the first day he met Mino. It was the day of his sister’s pre-wedding meeting, and he was dressed in suffocating formal wear.

With a pastor father and a hospital director mother, his sister and future brother-in-law were also doctors. Despite enrolling in medical school to fulfill his family’s wishes, he was persecuted for becoming a veterinarian instead.

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The memory of a few years ago kept him from attending the meeting in his suit. As he sat sullenly in the clinic, forgetting even to head home, he encountered Mino by chance.

Unusually kind and naive, the young man’s ears turned bright red at his words, and he stared at Dohoon’s lips as he spoke. Familiar with such reactions due to his own attractiveness, Dohoon knew right away. When he suggested a date, Mino’s ears flared even redder.

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“Strangely cute.”

He murmured as he thought of him, and Eunjoo’s furrowed brow relaxed slightly.

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“Got a picture?”

“No.”

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There was no photo in the messenger profile. Even if there were, he had no intention of showing it to Eunjoo.

Objectively, sadistic tendencies weren’t something to boast about. Frankly, it was a crime, and Dohoon had his reasons for satisfying these desires with men.

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That damn boy had ruined his perfectly good life. The image of a reddened nape was still vivid. If it hadn’t been for that boy, he wouldn’t have realized his cursed preferences.

Dohoon at nineteen, filled with stress during his final year of high school.

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“It’s annoying.”

That was his mood that day. After the university entrance exams, admission to medical school was almost guaranteed, and he failed his first act of rebellion.

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Expected to follow the family tradition and become a doctor like his mother and sister, Dohoon detested it. Despite knowing that others coveted the profession, he hated it. When he expressed reluctance to attend medical school, he was absurdly told to enroll in theological college instead, which only added to his frustration.

Dohoon despised humans. He wanted nothing to do with a profession that involved saving them. The mission to treat even criminals and to forgive and love was nonsense to him. He rebelled, but only silence and ostracism followed.

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In school, from his homeroom teacher to the principal, pressure mounted, while his peers either envied or resented him. Sick of it all, but unable to make a significant stand as a minor dependent on his family’s money, he endured.

As the top student, Dohoon also bore the annoying label of student council president, which was supposedly advantageous for college admissions. The school, affiliated with a Christian foundation, often held religious events. One winter break, aligned with Christmas, they planned a performance, summoning student councils from all associated schools.

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Already assured of university admission, he had no reason to participate but went anyway to avoid being at home, where only glares awaited him and private outings were forbidden, lest he do something unpredictable. Thus, the only permissible outings were those mandated by the school.

“Don’t mess around and come straight home.”

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His father’s sharp command echoed in his mind as Dohoon attended the event reluctantly. Middle school kids are so small. Though only three years since his own middle school graduation, the difference in their growth was evident. Even among his high school peers, many seemed younger than him.

Dohoon watched the little heads bobbing around. One particularly round and tidy head caught his eye, and he ended up watching it exclusively.

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“We need to be beaten by the older guys. You satanic kids. And you guys too. If you get caught fooling around with the girls, you’ll be beaten by your younger siblings. Got it?”

While he aimlessly passed the time, the situation took a strange turn. The student council treasurer next to him handed him a cane with a disapproving look.

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“What’s this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s crazy. He wants us to beat the kids.”

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A group of much smaller middle schoolers lay prostrate before him. That pastor. At that moment, Dohoon scowled at the chuckling chaplain, resenting being placed in this position.

The other council officers looked to him, seemingly expecting him to intervene. After all, among them, he had the most authority as the student council president and top student with a well-known family of doctors.

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“Pastor.”

Though he hated to comply with their expectations, these little kids were innocent. However, the chaplain’s mood had soured, and despite Dohoon’s attempts to intercede, he remained unmoved.

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I’ve done what I could.

Back then, Dohoon was deeply twisted. He had always detested the expectant gazes that seemed to demand something from him.

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Glancing around at the treasurer and other officers, he shrugged off their resentful stares. After all, he couldn’t deny he was part of the garbage; humanity was inherently trash, and its extinction seemed beneficial.

“Those who go easy will be summoned to the chaplain’s office tomorrow morning.”

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He wanted to smash that amused face, but Dohoon, ever the good student, did as the chaplain instructed. The small middle schooler prostrated before him had a familiar round head. Ah, the one he’d been observing for days. Seeing it up close, a slight sense of guilt washed over him.

“…Sorry.”

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He was sorry because he was sorry. And for the first time, Dohoon hit someone. The sound of the impact was violent, and the middle schooler’s neck reddened. Watching the trembling small body, Dohoon stiffened. Something was off.

“What is this?! What are you doing?!”

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A teacher responsible for the student council burst in, horrified. At the same time, the middle schooler in front of him scrambled up and ran down the hallway.

Had it hurt that much? The guilt that surged wasn’t for the boy. His heart raced, and his lips dried out.

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“Dohoon, you tell me. What’s going on here?”

“Later.”

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Dohoon pushed past the teacher trying to hold him back and headed to the hallway. Dohoon! His calls followed, but Dohoon had urgent matters to attend to.

Inside the only locked stall in the otherwise open restroom, he heard breathing. It was the voice of a young boy, just hitting puberty. Dohoon stepped back. If he stayed, he might cross an irreversible line.

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And when he returned home later, he realized he had already crossed that river.