iridescence

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandoms: 내가 키운 S급들 - 근서 | S-Classes that I Raised - Geunseo, 내가 키운
S급들 | The S-Classes That I Raised (Webcomic)
Relationship: Han Yoojin/Sung Hyunjae (S-Classes that I Raised)
Characters: Han Yoojin (S-Classes that I Raised), Sung Hyunjae (S-Classes that I
Raised)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, CEO Sung
Hyunjae (S-Classes that I Raised), One Night Stands, Power Imbalance,
Possessive Sung Hyunjae (S-Classes that I Raised)
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-12-03 Updated: 2025-01-15 Words: 14,985 Chapters:
3/?
 iridescence
by heliotrope

Summary

Sung Hyunjae isn't averse to getting his thrills wherever he can find them, whether that's
wandering the city at night or tumbling into the sheets with a stranger. This might be the first
time, though, that his interest is still present past the break of dawn the next day—even if the
person in question is not.

Meanwhile, Han Yoojin is trying not to freak out about the fact that his one-night stand was
his CEO.
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

This all happened because I was gripped by a vision of office worker hjyj shenanigans...
though this turned out less on the office-y side

content warning: a bit of alcohol use near the beginning

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Seoul was a big city, but in many ways, it wasn’t big enough.

The city lights streamed past the tinted windows, the noise from outside almost completely
blocked out by the excellent soundproofing of the top-of-the-line foreign car. Even the
engines were dulled to a soothing purr, as if its interior was an idyllic capsule bestowing safe
passage through the hectic metropolis.

Sung Hyunjae was so, so bored of it all.

Pressing the comm button, he pointed down a random highway exit and ordered, “That way.”
Well used to his whimsical orders, the driver smoothly followed his command without so
much as a question.

The car ended up in some shopping district he’d visited before once or twice. It was close
enough to the company headquarters that it looked familiar, but it wasn’t someplace he’d had
much reason to visit before. It would do well enough for killing time tonight, he decided.

“Let me off there,” he indicated, gesturing to a random street corner. “Pick me up again if I
call.”

As the car pulled away, Sung Hyunjae looked around to evaluate his surroundings. It was a
fairly busy commercial shopping district, but not especially packed with big crowds or
groups of tourists. It was late enough that many of the restaurants and stores were starting to
close, but there were still plenty of groups of colleagues or friends wandering into trendy-
looking bars illuminated by bright, neon lights.

Smoothing out the creases of his suit, he wandered into one such bar. It looked to be mostly
populated by young adults chatting energetically in groups or pairs. Most of them were well-
dressed, probably working professionals, but Sung Hyunjae’s custom Italian suits were still
several cuts above the average wardrobe price here.

No matter. Most people wouldn’t recognize the difference between a designer suit and a
bargain rack purchase unless it was pointed out to them. He wouldn’t stand out too much.
Seating himself at a two-person table, he glanced at the menu and picked something at
random. The drink came quickly enough, and he sat there nursing it while pondering what to
do for the rest of the night.

Explore the streets? But at a quick glance, he hadn’t seen anything particularly interesting
outside. The area looked too safe for him to even have a chance at getting pulled into some
random incident or crime.

Strike up a conversation with a stranger? Once in a while, that ended up yielding some
interesting results. And if he was truly bored enough, maybe he would even go for a quick
fling. It was just that the aftermath of such things tended to be troublesome.

Or, should he simply go home? He could always pick a new hobby to take up or find a reason
to go heckle Song Taewon, he supposed.

He surveyed the occupants of the bar, but none of them particularly stood out. A couple of
them did glance longingly at the empty chair opposite of him, and one brave soul even tried
to sit. He briefly considered accepting her company, if for no other reason than that her
courage was vaguely entertaining, but in the end, he decided against it.

“I’m waiting for someone,” he said with a polite smile.

“Oh!” She answered, looking flustered. “I’m sorry. Good night, then!”

The young woman fled back to her group of friends, and Sung Hyunjae caught whispered
reassurances and even some hushed speculations about whether he was being stood up, which
did have the corner of his mouth rising in amusement.

Two drinks in, he was at least buzzed enough that the edge had been taken off his boredom.
The small bar hadn’t revealed any other interesting secrets, so he decided it was about time to
look elsewhere. Just as he was about to stand up and leave, though, the door to the bar
opened again, and a young man walked in.

At a glance, there was nothing particularly remarkable about the young man. The bar lighting
was too dim and fluorescent to make out his features well, but he was dressed in plain, worn
clothes with plain, average hair. What stood out most was how out of place he looked—how
awkwardly he responded to the server greeting him, and how he looked around the bar as if
lost.

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. A sheltered kid visiting a bar for the first time? He didn’t
quite give off the air of being sheltered, though—merely out of his element. Then, perhaps an
introvert who rarely went out?

He was curious enough to spend a conversation finding out, Sung Hyunjae decided. With a
smile, he gestured to the newcomer—but the young man was too engrossed in diligently
reading the menu to notice. It wasn’t until the server interrupted him and pointed at Sung
Hyunjae that the young man turned his head, looking perplexed.

Me? He indicated to himself in a silent question.

Sung Hyunjae smiled deeper and beckoned again in reply.

Looking thoroughly confused, the young man seated himself at the table. “Have we met
before?” He asked tentatively.

Sung Hyunjae let out a laugh. “It’s quite bold of you to be propositioning me this early.”

“What—Oh.” It was hard to tell under the multicolored lights, but the young man’s face
looked like it reddened a little. Now that he was closer, Sung Hyunjae saw that his features
were actually quite neat and fair, underneath the shoddily arranged hair and clothes. “Well,
it’s a reasonable assumption to make when you’re the one who greeted me first, isn’t it?
Besides, I thought that you looked a bit familiar—that isn’t a pickup line either, by the way,”
the young man added hastily.

So, the young man must have seen Sung Hyunjae’s photo somewhere as the CEO of Seseong,
Inc., though he didn’t appear to recognize him at the moment. That was hardly unusual.
Context helped a great deal in obscuring his identity when he went on these little haphazard
jaunts.

“Perhaps it’s fate, then?” Sung Hyunjae supplied. “The fact that we’re both here alone
tonight, that is.”

The young man rolled his eyes. “Now who’s the pot calling the kettle black? I thought that
even real pickup artists would find throwing around the word ‘fate’ too cheesy.” Something
seemed to occur to him, and he gave Sung Hyunjae a worried look. “How much have you
had to drink? Have you mistaken me for someone else? What do you think my name is?”

The genuine concern in his voice caused Sung Hyunjae to chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’m
perfectly in possession of my faculties,” he said mildly.

The concern on the young man’s face didn’t abate. “That’s what all drunks say,” he said
pointedly.

With a sigh of exaggerated surrender, Sung Hyunjae gestured to the two empty glasses on the
table. “I’ve only had two drinks, as you can see, and I can assure you I’m no lightweight. I
don’t know your name, but I doubt I’d mistake such a pretty face for someone else.”

The young man flushed again at the comment. “I see,” he said with a shake of his head. “So
it’s not the alcohol, but just a personality flaw that makes you talk like that. Why did you call
me over, then?”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Do I need a specific reason? You looked like you were
alone, and I was curious about you. If there has to be another reason, hmm… I suppose I was
feeling a bit lonely.” His voice softened at the last word. It was a bit dishonest of him, he had
to admit, but judging by the young man’s earlier concern, he was probably the type to
respond strongly to those he judged to be in need.

Sure enough, the faintest bit of tension in the young man’s posture seemed to melt away.
“Well, it’s true that I’m alone,” he admitted. “It’s nice to have company. I thought I was going
to be celebrating by myself.”

“Celebrating?” Sung Hyunjae tilted his head encouragingly. He needn’t have bothered, really
—as soon as the question came out, it was like a dam had broken on the young man’s lips.

“My baby brother is graduating tomorrow!” He exclaimed. “At the top of his class, too! He’s
going to start working in medicine soon—he went to Seoul National University, you know?
He studied so hard in high school—I was so worried when he didn’t go out and play at all
and just spent all his time studying, but he told me he just wanted to focus on getting a good
job first so he could take care of his hyung. Can you believe how sweet he is?”

The barrage of praise only paused when a server came by to take their order again. As if he’d
only just remembered that the menu existed, the young man picked it up and began
scrutinizing it again, his forehead scrunched in concentration.

“He’ll have this one,” Sung Hyunjae said smoothly, pointing to a cocktail that looked light
and fruity. The young man blinked, but before he could open his mouth again, Sung Hyunjae
prodded, “You were mentioning your brother?”

“Oh, yes!” The young man beamed. “When he was younger, he used to pick flowers for me
on the way home from school all the time. Once, he got in trouble for taking a whole branch
of them off a tree—but he didn’t know better, he was so small, after all. I think that branch
was taller than him, but he lugged it all the way home just to give it to me. Isn’t that so cute
of him? He’s been like that ever since he was young.”

Sung Hyunjae tried to picture what kind of small child could snap a whole branch off of a
tree. “Sweet” was not the word he would have used, but what did he know? He was only the
CEO of a multinational corporation. “But you’re here celebrating alone?” He asked curiously.

The young man coughed awkwardly. His drink had just arrived, and he took a sip of it to
cover his embarrassment. “Well, I’m his older brother, after all… When we drink together
after his graduation, I should hold back a little, to be a good role model, right?”

“In other words, you don’t intend on holding back tonight?” Sung Hyunjae asked carefully.

“That’s the plan,” the young man confirmed.

An idea gradually began to take form in the back of Sung Hyunjae’s mind. It wasn’t exactly
that he was growing bored of this happenstance meeting yet—quite the opposite, in fact—but
he had a nagging premonition that if he allowed the rest of the night to play out in this bar, he
would be subjected to praises about this younger brother who had allegedly achieved
sainthood until dawn broke. Personally, he thought he could come up with far more
interesting ways for them to spend the time.

“Have you considered,” he said slowly, holding the young man’s gaze as he ran the tip of his
tongue deliberately over his upper lip, “that there are other ways to celebrate the night
away?”
The young man tilted his head. “What, like karaoke? It’s not much fun without more people,
though.”

Sung Hyunjae bit back the impulse to laugh. Was he playing coy, or was it his first time? It
seemed like he was being genuine, so it was probably the latter. First-timers were a bit
annoying to deal with, but he was pleasing enough to the eye that Sung Hyunjae decided he
didn’t mind the extra trouble. “Not karaoke,” he said with amusement. “I was thinking
more… the hotel down the street.”

“The hotel?” The young man’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What is there to do at a hotel—
Oh.” He coughed again, obscuring his face in his sleeve. “Just to be clear, is that actually a
pickup line, this time?”

“You could put it that way,” Sung Hyunjae affirmed. “I’m asking if you want to sleep
together.”

“Oh.” The young man lowered his sleeve away from his face just enough to peek out. “Oh.”
Reluctantly, he fully lowered his arm. “Just to be sure, this isn’t one of those, um… Let me
just say this ahead of time, I don’t have a lot of money for you to scam or steal. And if you’re
a serial killer… I don’t know that I could really dissuade you, but I won’t go down without a
fight, so it’d be easier if you picked another victim.”

Not even Sung Hyunjae could fully hold back his laugh this time. “I can assure you, I have
no desire for your money,” he said with amusement. “And the only kind of screams I’m
interested in from you are ones of a different nature.”

“…Oh.” Even under the bar lighting, the young man’s face was noticeably beet-red now. He
glanced at Sung Hyunjae’s face, then abruptly picked up his drink and downed the rest of it in
a few gulps. “… In that case, yes,” he said decisively.

The aforementioned hotel that Sung Hyunjae had spotted from the street wouldn’t have been
his first choice, but it was passable. Thanks to the fact that it wasn’t travel season, he
managed to nab a presidential suite, which had the type of decently-sized bathroom and tub
that he preferred for… activities.

Apparently, it was quite the novelty to the young man, though, judging by his wide-eyed
gawking at every room and hallway. It was the type of behavior Sung Hyunjae generally
found mildly irritating, but which he could be persuaded to consider endearing on a pretty
face. The young man, of course, fell under the latter category.

“Are the accommodations to your satisfaction?” Sung Hyunjae asked smoothly. “If I’d
known I’d be in such fine company, I would have prepared a bouquet, as well.”
The young man wrinkled his nose. “If you’d brought a bouquet, I would have pegged you for
a con artist for sure.”

“And if the contraband I’m after is your heart?” Sung Hyunjae said, the corners of his lips
turning upwards.

“They have those types of scams, too,” the young man informed him. “Romance scams and
so on. Someone texts you innocuous things at first, but they slowly turn into messages like,
‘Honey, I’m really struggling and I need twenty thousand won,’ or, ‘Darling, if you really
love me, won’t you fill up my bank account?’”

Sung Hyunjae tapped his chin in thought. “Say the last part again,” he said pensively.

“‘Darling, if you really love me, won’t you fill up my bank account?’” The young man
repeated, perplexed.

Sung Hyunjae gave a satisfied nod. “I can see the persuasive power of such lines,” he
remarked.

The young man looked at him dubiously. “If this is your way of trying to recruit me into your
crime ring, you can forget about it,” he informed him. “I can’t go around making my brother
ashamed of me, after all.”

And is that brother in the room with us? Sung Hyunjae bit back the urge to reply. There were
worse traits than being devoted to family, he reminded himself.

Instead, he slid the jacket off his shoulders and slung it carelessly on the back of a chair as he
reached for the collar of his shirt. One by one, the buttons came undone, until his shirt joined
his jacket, abandoned to the chair.

“Need a hand?” Sung Hyunjae said with a raised eyebrow, indicating with a nod at the young
man’s still fully intact outfit.

“No, I’m fine,” the young man rushed to say with a furious blush, tearing his eyes away from
where they’d been fixed, wide-eyed, on Sung Hyunjae. Privately, Sung Hyunjae hid the
satisfied curl of his lips.

With quick, efficient motions, the young man tossed away his own threadbare jacket and
worn button-up shirt. The slender frame that emerged from underneath the misshapen lumps
of cloth didn’t lose out to Sung Hyunjae’s high expectations in the least. He laid a hand
gently on the young man’s bare shoulder, delighting in the faint tremor underneath his palm.

Although it wasn’t something he normally did…

“Marks?” He asked abruptly.

“… What?” The young man looked at him blankly.

“Marks,” he repeated patiently. “Is it fine to leave them?”

“Oh… It, it’s fine,” the young man said awkwardly. “Um… nowhere visible, though. My
brother—”

Sung Hyunjae swallowed whatever the rest of his sentence would have been with his lips.
After a moment of surprise, the young man began to reciprocate the kiss, tentatively but not
entirely clumsily. Probably not his first, then. What a pity—

—Sung Hyunjae paused, and then immediately discarded the thought. It was always more
troublesome when they were inexperienced.

Instead, he used the excuse of the kiss to lean forward and wrap his arms around the young
man’s waist, gauging the height and width of his torso. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to leave him
with a better-fitting set of clothes as a parting gift. With his assets, it wouldn’t be difficult for
him to find another partner as long as he put on something even remotely flattering.

… On second thought, that thought was vaguely irritating, too. It was hardly Sung Hyunjae’s
responsibility to make sure he found another match.

The young man was the first to break the kiss, pulling back with a hint of breathlessness.
“Hey,” he said between gasps of air, “If we’re doing this—can’t you tell me a little about
yourself first?”

Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “What do you want to know?”

“… I don’t know. Your likes, dislikes, hobbies… You must have hobbies besides being
obscenely rich, right? What are they?”

Sung Hyunjae hummed in contemplation. “Guess,” he said simply.

The young man chewed his lip, looking Sung Hyunjae up and down. “Even though you look
pretty young, it feels like you have the soul of an old man, somehow. Don’t tell me, one of
your hobbies is fishing by the lake, or something?” The image seemed to amuse him, his
flushed lips cracking into a grin.

“I do enjoy fishing from time to time,” Sung Hyunjae allowed.

“No way, really?” The young man exclaimed. “What do you do with the fish? Eat them?”

“I keep them. In a tank at my home.”

The young man laughed with delight at the answer. “What, are you planning to open a fish
market in your home? ‘One live river carp, coming up,’ and then you scoop it out of your
tank for the nice auntie next door—something like that?”

“The auntie next door is rather mean, actually,” Sung Hyunjae said with theatrical
melancholy. “If you were to move in, though, I could certainly consider the idea. Instead of
money, I’d charge in kisses, how does that sound?”

The young man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You know, you’re really not helping your
case with claiming not to be a con artist whenever you open your mouth,” he said with
reproach. “Or, don’t tell me, that’s a hobby for you, too?”

“How heartrending. To think that my sincere feelings are met with such skepticism. I
understand, though. Actions speak louder than words, do they not?”

Having spoken, Sung Hyunjae turned his attention to making full good on his promise. His
teeth descended on the young man’s pale neck, nibbling at the tender flesh until it turned
pink. It was with some annoyance that he reminded himself that leaving anything longer-
lasting there would be unwelcome, but the shiver of the body in his arms made up for the
dissatisfaction.

His hands weren’t left idle, either, slowly circling the top of the young man’s hips until they
found and made quick work of his belt. His slacks soon joined it on the floor, opening the
smooth expanse of his thighs to Sung Hyunjae’s touch.

“Let me do yours,” the young man said suddenly.

His fingers were unexpectedly deft at undoing Sung Hyunjae’s belt buckle—an action which
could be deceptively disorienting when one was only accustomed to doing it for themselves.
Sung Hyunjae had expected the young man to stop at removing his pants, but surprisingly, he
knelt to the soft carpet, glancing hesitantly up before sliding Sung Hyunjae’s briefs off as
well.

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “You have experience with this?” He asked, amused.

“… A bit,” the young man hedged.

… Now that was an unexpected response.

“Oh?” Sung Hyunjae asked sharply.

The young man must have mistaken the edge to his voice for skepticism, because he flushed
and looked down at the ground. “… In a theoretical sense,” he grumbled. “What are you
being so picky for? You’re getting your dick sucked for free.”

The petulance in his voice prompted a laugh from Sung Hyunjae, all of his momentary
displeasure melting away in a flash. “You’re right,” he said immediately. “My apologies.
What’s the appropriate punishment for my rudeness? Shall I offer to grant you three wishes?”

“Sure, I’ll take it. In that case, my first wish for you to shut up,” the young man told him.

Though a smile still hung from his lips, Sung Hyunjae obligingly held his tongue—a matter
not entirely unrelated to how obscenely lovely a picture the young man made, kneeling at his
feet with his face mere centimeters from Sung Hyunjae’s hard length.

The first touches to his member were shy, exploratory. The young man’s fingers brushed
against his length with feather-light strokes, finally coming to a rest against Sung Hyunjae’s
pelvis in order to better brace his own weight as he leaned forward. His tongue darted out in
hesitant kitten licks, tracing the head of Sung Hyunjae’s cock.
After a few minutes, he seemed to gain enough courage to attempt to take the whole thing in
his mouth, wrapping his pink lips around the entire circumference of Sung Hyunjae’s shaft. It
wasn’t an easy fit at all—his jaw strained at the effort, moisture gathering in the corners of
his eyes from the stretch. The visuals of his teary, red face and puffed cheeks were almost
more potent than the sensation of his warm, wet mouth, and Sung Hyunjae bit back a groan,
as well as the impulse to rock his hips forward.

Eventually, they hit the inevitable limit of the young man’s untrained gag reflex, the spasms
of his throat milking Sung Hyunjae’s cock with abandon. The young man seemed determined
to persist, though, and he continued to try to swallow the length deeper despite his body’s
protests. Helpfully, Sung Hyunjae seized the moment to dig his fingers into the young man’s
hair, pressing his face forward and fucking all the way down into his throat.

It was too much for the young man—his throat convulsed wildly, and even his hands began to
try to push away. That desperate, fleeting expression on his face very nearly tipped Sung
Hyunjae over the edge—he imagined releasing deep into the young man’s throat until he was
forced to swallow, or painting his tear-stained face and swollen lips with his color. But he
released his grip, and the young man pulled himself off Sung Hyunjae’s cock with a wet gasp
and a few weak coughs.

“Good work,” Sung Hyunjae purred, bending down to taste the remnants of himself on the
young man’s lips. He let his tongue explore all of the territory that his cock had carved out in
the young man’s mouth, ravaging its walls and probing as deep as it could go until a whimper
leaked out from his throat. Only then did Sung Hyunjae pull back, licking his lips. “Let me
reward you for your efforts this time.”

“Shouldn’t we do something about…” After having caught his breath again, the young man
looked pointedly at Sung Hyunjae’s still proud arousal.

“In due time,” Sung Hyunjae dismissed.

But the young man seemed dissatisfied, a furrow appearing in his brow. “Let me try again,”
he argued. “Or try something else. Even if I didn’t do so well the first time—”

“Shh.” Sung Hyunjae placed a finger on his lips to cut off his stream of words. “Who says
you didn’t do well? I told you, ‘good work,’ didn’t I? Or am I so lacking in persuasion?”

The young man bit his lip. “I think I’ve mentioned at length the dubious credibility of your
words,” he muttered, but he acquiesced nonetheless when Sung Hyunjae pulled him up from
the floor and shepherded him toward the king-sized bed.

“And I’ve mentioned I’ll be showing you in actions rather than words.”

With just a small push, the young man tumbled onto the bed, and Sung Hyunjae took
advantage of that to tug off the briefs that made up the last piece of cover on his delectable
body. That seemed to trigger a sudden bout of self-consciousness as he blushed and shifted
his legs to vaguely obscure Sung Hyunjae’s view of his privates. Tsk, pity. It was well
enough, though, since it gave Sung Hyunjae better leverage with which to fold his knees
forward and grant access to his plush ass.
Although this wasn’t the type of hotel that typically provided those kinds of services, Sung
Hyunjae had instructed them ahead of time to acquire condoms and lubricant, which were
placed neatly on the bedside stand. Swiftly and efficiently, he uncapped the bottle, then
turned his attention back to spreading the pillowy flesh, revealing the pink bud nestled
within. Noticing the focus of Sung Hyunjae’s attention, the little hole clenched cutely,
drawing a laugh from him. He tapped it once, twice, provoking a few more adorable
squeezes.

“Do you play with yourself here?” He asked with amusement, more to fill the space than
anything else. So he was pleasantly surprised by the young man’s full-body flush, his back
stiffening as he slung his arms over his face to cover it in embarrassment.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he mumbled, his words half eaten up by the blockade of his
arms. “It’s—we’re in the modern age, exploration is—Anyways, does it matter?”

It would have been easy to just drop the subject there. That might have been the considerate
thing to do. But Sung Hyunjae found that he couldn’t resist teasing out more lovely reactions
from beneath the young man’s flustered bravado.

“It’s very important,” he said calmly. One slicked finger went in easily, but the second met
much more resistance. He took his time coaxing the tight rim to relax before slipping it in.
“How far have you gone? Toys?”

“Don’t—Don’t have any,” the young man panted. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his
forehead that gave him an ethereal glow under the warm indoor lamps.

“Just fingers, then?”

From his tight-lipped silence, it looked like that had hit the mark.

“What is this, twenty questions?” The young man finally snapped. “You don’t see me—ahh—
asking you personal… personal questions while… ngh—” The rest of his sentence was cut
off by a breathy keen as Sung Hyunjae found his sweet spot and began attacking it with
merciless precision.

“I need to know how much you can take,” Sung Hyunjae said matter-of-factly.

“I can t—take you…” Evidently, being assaulted with pleasure hadn’t dulled the young man’s
fighting spirit any.

Sung Hyunjae would be the first to admit that this was usually the part he found the most
tedious. Beyond the initial puzzle of discovering where and how his partners responded, there
wasn’t much challenge or gratification for him when it came to foreplay. But this, he thought
idly, he could do for hours. Taking this person apart on his fingers, listening to the little
staccato gasps and moans that spilled from his lips, turning his clever tongue into a useless
decoration in his pretty mouth.

When his hips began to buck inadvertently, chasing Sung Hyunjae’s fingers every time he
drew them out, it was clear that the young man was close. Sung Hyunjae lowered his head to
kiss the inside of his thigh, suckling and worrying at it. Here, at least, he was allowed to leave
his visible claim, and he did so without restraint, marking every spot of creamy skin from the
line of his pelvis up to his navel and sides, feeling the young man’s hips rise to meet Sung
Hyunjae’s teeth as if offering himself up to be even further taken.

It was the young man who ran out of patience first, his fist thumping softly on Sung
Hyunjae’s shoulder. “Are you… going to take all day…” He squeezed out, his breathy voice
beautiful to the accompaniment of the rustling sheets. “It can’t… can’t be that much fun…
having your hand up—up someone’s ass…”

Before today, Sung Hyunjae would have agreed.

“Patience,” he chided. “Being too impatient will ruin you.”

“… So?” The young man challenged, the tilt of his chin defiant even as tear droplets hung
from his lashes like the most exquisite of jewels. “Then ruin me.”

Sung Hyunjae felt like the breath had been punched out of his guts.

He considered himself someone with a fair amount of restraint, but even so, the time that it
took to rip open a condom packet and slam himself inside simply seemed to pass too slowly
to bear. The young man let out a stuttering cry as he sheathed himself fully in one thrust, the
stretch difficult even with the copious amounts of preparation and lubricant.

He gave the young man a few moments to adjust before he began to move, uncaring of the
low groan that slipped out of his own mouth at the feeling of the hot, slick walls dragging
against his cock. The pace that he set was brutal, every thrust bottoming out in order to incite
the blunt nails scrabbling at his back to press deeper. He’d been tasked to ruin him, and Sung
Hyunjae would be damned if he didn’t comply—ruin him for sex, ruin him for pleasure, ruin
him for anyone else who might hold him after this.

By the time they stopped, it was apparent that the young man was a breath away from tapping
out. Despite Sung Hyunjae’s cajoling to get him to the bathroom to clean up, he dug his heels
in, burrowing stubbornly into the blankets.

“‘m sleep,” he mumbled, closing his eyes with finality. “‘f you care so much, you can… over
there.”

Sung Hyunjae was not, of course, about to sleep on the opposite edge of an entire king-sized
bed, so he could only yield, settling for toweling them both off before slipping into the sheets.

Surrounded by darkness and quiet, he had time to reflect on this new and foreign feeling of
insatiability in his gut. Even lying together with a body in his arms after the fact didn’t seem
to quell it.

Normally, he never saw the same person twice—not out of any sort of principle, but just
because he’d never felt the urge to. But this time, he thought, he wouldn’t mind making the
exception. Why not? The young man made for entertaining conversation and a good fuck,
and he was easy on the eyes, besides. He would do for at least a few more rounds of
nighttime distractions.

There was the small complication that Sung Hyunjae had neglected to give or ask for a name
or phone number or any kind of contact information that would facilitate a second meeting,
but that was fine. He could always ask in the morning.

Of course, he’d heard stories of people whose partners had fled by the time morning came,
but that was a problem that happened to people who were not Sung Hyunjae. For that matter,
he usually found himself wishing that the repercussions of his fleeting trysts were a little less
long-lived. So when he closed his eyes, it was without an ounce of concern.

In the morning, Sung Hyunjae understood the wisdom of being careful of what one wished
for.

It was nearly ten by the time Sung Hyunjae strode into his office, a shabby-looking jacket
slung over his shoulder. The rest of the floor was already lively, his assistants bustling about
with papers and laptops.

Upon his entry, his secretary glanced up, taking in his wrinkled clothes and messy hair with a
raised eyebrow.

“That’s sexual harassment, sir,” Evelyn Miller said dryly.

Sung Hyunjae sat in his seat and began shuffling through the stack of papers on his desk with
perfect calm. “I’ll have you know that he was a perfectly enthusiastic participant,” he
informed her.

She wrinkled her nose with disgust. “What I mean is, I feel harassed by the fact that I am
forced to be witness to the intimate details of your personal life,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I see.” Sung Hyunjae nodded understandingly. “If that’s how you feel, then I can have you
transferred to a branch office in the countryside.”

Evelyn Miller clicked her tongue. “I would feel more harassed by the mosquitos there, and
that would become a class action lawsuit.” She eyed his disheveled figure with no small
amount of judgment. “I hope your little night excursion was worth missing the call from that
new pharmaceutical start-up. I had to tell them that we couldn’t schedule a meeting because
our CEO was out.”

At the reminder of last night, the corners of Sung Hyunjae’s mouth began to tug upwards.
“Very worth it,” he said with satisfaction.

Evelyn Miller’s face scrunched up even further. “Ew. Disgusting. If you’re that happy, I
suppose I should start preparing an emotional damages settlement. So? Who’s the unlucky
 victim?”

Sung Hyunjae shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

At those words, she blinked in disbelief. “… You don’t know?” She repeated.

“He left before I could ask.”

When the full implication hit her, she began to guffaw, clutching her stomach in laughter.
“No way,” she chortled breathlessly. “You don’t know—‘cause he left? You? Haha—hahaha
—oh my god—Hang on, I have to send this to Soyoung—the Sung Hyunjae—Even you live
to see the day—And you have no idea—”

“Well,” Sung Hyunjae corrected, “I do have some idea.” He pulled the worn jacket off his
shoulder and placed it on the desk. There was a single pin on the jacket, with a very familiar
logo engraved on it. “He left this behind. Isn’t that romantic? Like Cinderella after the ball.”

Evelyn Miller gagged. “Gross. Who are you and what did you do with our CEO?” At a closer
look at the pin, though, her eyes widened. “Oh my god, wait, isn’t that the pin we gave away
for orientation last month? Holy shit—don’t tell me—Sung Hyunjae, did you fuck one of
your own employees? ”

Sung Hyunjae shrugged again, even more helplessly. “It would appear so.”

“Ha—hahaha—Oh my god, I really have to text Soyoung about this.” Wiping away tears of
laughter, she pulled out her phone and began to type furiously. “So? What now? Don’t tell me
you’re going to say, ‘Find that person no matter what it takes!’ Or something?”

Sung Hyunjae shot her an unamused look. “Ms. Miller, I do believe you’ve been watching
too many TV dramas,” he said mildly.

Evelyn Miller snorted, but she nodded expectantly. As funny as the situation was, it was Sung
Hyunjae, in the end—sometimes, she wondered if what ran through his veins wasn’t blood,
but stone. Having already considered the matter closed, she was completely unprepared for
Sung Hyunjae’s next words.

“After all,” he said slowly, “Why would I let you have the most fun I’ve found in weeks?”

Chapter End Notes

SHJ: I consent
HYJ: I consent
HYH: Isn't there someone you forgot to ask?

I realized after writing this...... wow........ I made SHJ such a scumbag here............
Anyways I have Thoughts (tm) on this universe but I'm not sure what to do with them
yet so I'll leave this as a one-shot for now nvm i have no self control lmaooo
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

who would win, my resolution not to start any more multi-chapter fics or my impulse to
write office shenanigans...

“Congratulations, Yoohyun!”

Han Yoojin was the first and only one to greet him as Han Yoohun stepped off the stage, a
bouquet of brilliant carnations and roses in his arms, the giant bundle of foliage nearly
swallowing him up. Unlike most of the other graduates around him, who were swarmed by
family and friends ranging from parents to siblings to grandparents, Han Yoohyun only had
his older brother. But he didn’t feel even a drop of envy towards the others.

It had always been just the two of them, and it always would be.

“Your speech was amazing! As expected of my baby brother, after all. Here, here, for our
family’s amazing little genius.” Han Yoojin pushed the bouquet at him and patted his cheek
with a satisfied smile.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun said, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m twenty-three.”

“Hmm? So what? My baby brother will always be the cutest.” Han Yoojin flashed him a
mischievous grin. “To celebrate, let’s go out and drink! Let your hyung treat you tonight,
huh?”

Han Yoohyun returned the smile helplessly. It wasn’t until he received the bouquet and
stepped back that he could see the old, worn clothing that his brother was still wearing.

“Hyung,” he chastised. “Didn’t I tell you that you don’t need to send me any more money?”

Han Yoojin tilted his head. “I know, I know,” he said with chagrin. “But I’ve heard medical
school is rough, isn’t it? Yoohyun, it’s okay to spend a little more, um… For example, if
you’re too tired to cook, you can eat out. Don’t buy too much convenience store food, okay?
But also, if you eat out, don’t just eat junk food, make sure it’s something healthy.”

“I know,” Han Yoohyun said softly. “You’ve told me before. I haven’t forgotten.”

Han Yoojin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, that’s true. Forgive your hyung for rambling
a bit.” Extending his elbow, he hooked it around Yoohyun’s to pull him forward. “Come on,
let’s go. What do you want to eat?”

Han Yoohyun shook his head. “First, let’s go buy clothes.”

“Hm? Oh, that’s true, you’ll need things for when you’re working.”

“No,” Han Yoohyun said seriously. “For you, hyung. ”

“Huh?!” Han Yoojin exclaimed. “We’re supposed to be celebrating you today, Yoohyun.”

“It would be a celebration for me. Our last round of clinical trials just succeeded, and we’ve
already signed some pretty big deals, so I got a big bonus this month. Let me buy something
for you, hyung .” He stared at Han Yoojin with that wide-eyed expression that almost always
got him what he wanted. “Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep well, knowing that you don’t
even have proper clothes to wear.”

“Proper—” Han Yoojin spluttered. “Stop exaggerating, it’s not like I’m wearing rags. They’re
just a little old, okay? Ah, what happened, Yoohyun, has having a taste of independence
changed you? You’re looking down on how we’ve always lived now?”

“Hyung. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” Han Yoojin relented with a sigh. “What can I do about my baby brother being
so thoughtful and considerate?”

With a grin, he raised an arm to ruffle Han Yoohyun’s hair. It was a gesture he’d done for
years on years, but where Han Yoohyun remembered his hyung once bending his knees and
reaching down to pat his head, Han Yoojin now had to tilt his chin up and lift his arm at the
shoulder all the way, fingers carding through his hair in that still-familiar way.

The gesture hiked up the edge of Han Yoojin’s shirt just past the cinch of his belt. It was only
because Han Yoohyun’s head had already been lowered that he noticed it when his brother
rearranged the edge of his shirt to tuck it back in—a conspicuous smattering of angry red
dots, foul and offensive on his otherwise unmarked skin.

“Hyung,” Han Yoohyun said with a frown, trying very hard not to sound like the child that
he no longer was. “Are you seeing someone?”

“Hm? Of course not,” Han Yoojin said, looking puzzled. “You know dating and I don’t really
mix.”

Because of you, went unsaid.

“Aw, are you worried about your hyung leaving you behind?” Han Yoojin pinched his cheek
playfully. “Don’t worry, even if I did try to date again, I already promised it would be
someone you got along with, didn’t I? My baby brother still comes first, after all.”

Han Yoohyun nodded. “I remember,” he said gravely.

Of course, that was as good as saying that his brother would never find a match. Whether it
was that woman from last time, or the girl from when they were in school, or the many
people who’d had their eyes on him from the sidelines—none of them had understood the
gravity of holding Han Yoohyun’s entire world in their hands. And if those people couldn’t
even measure up to Han Yoohyun, then what good were they?
It had always been just the two of them. And it always would be.

Monday morning came by all too quickly. When Han Yoojin dragged himself from his warm
bed all the way through the cold office doors, there was no indication that it would be
anything but the most commonplace of Monday mornings. Swiping his employee badge at
the gates, he waited groggily for the elevator that would corral him and everyone around
them into their little cubicles to begin yet another day of drudgery.

Once there, he sat down at his seat with a yawn and began cataloguing the most urgent tasks
for the day. Even after a month, it still felt a little strange to be sitting here—a proper
employee—for a position that he was most certainly not qualified for, from the standpoint of
credentials. It was only through a referral by one of his former colleagues during his time as a
contractor that he’d managed to land a cushy desk job that would otherwise have required a
university degree to so much as look at.

It would have been nice, he thought idly, if he’d had a salary like this when Yoohyun was
younger. When he’d still needed to pay for enrollment at a better school, for books and
uniforms, new shoes and clothes for a rapidly-growing teenager… Those had been the
hardest years. Now that Yoohyun was grown and independent, he didn’t even know what to
do with all of the extra money. And now Yoohyun was refusing to take his extra savings. Han
Yoojin sighed heavily.

He was shaken out of his musings by the blaring of the loudspeaker. It was usually reserved
for critical announcements, so he instinctively listened carefully to the voice ringing through
the speakers.

“Attention, please. If you are the employee who lost a navy blue jacket at the XXX Hotel last
Thursday, please report to Secretary Evelyn Miller’s desk immediately. I repeat, if you are the
owner of the navy blue jacket left at the XXX Hotel, please come immediately to Evelyn
Miller’s office. Or else…” The female voice on the speakers gave a heavy sigh, which
sounded like a rush of static over the announcement system. “Or else, we will have no choice
but to kindly attempt to reunite the lost item with its owner post-haste.”

There was a flurry of whispers from the cubicles around him. Apparently, they were all as
flummoxed as Han Yoojin himself.

“It must be a pretty expensive jacket,” he heard Do Hamin mutter. “If it’s Secretary Miller
who’s holding on to it, I guess it belongs to one of the executives.”

“Secretary Miller?” Han Yoojin echoed.

“The CEO’s personal secretary,” Do Hamin explained.

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue in disapproval. “So, in other words, it’s just the higher-ups
using the PA system like it’s their group chat? Don’t they realize that it’s disruptive to
everyone in the building? Aren’t these the people who supposedly value company
productivity the most?”

Do Hamin shrugged. “I’m just the messenger.”

Shaking his head, Han Yoojin immediately dismissed the announcement from his thoughts
and turned back to his work. There was something bugging him in the back of his mind,
though—a tiny doubt that he couldn’t quite shake.

XXX Hotel—didn’t that sound a bit familiar?

Was it last Thursday that he’d also ended up at a hotel?

And wasn’t the jacket that he’d lost dark blue?

… He was probably overthinking it, he decided. After all, why on earth would he ever cross
paths with some corporate big-shot?

“Hmm? Didn’t you hear about the new hire lunch?” Han Yoojin had just gotten up to heat up
his lunch when he heard his manager, Seo Kyeonghoon, speak up from behind him.

“... New hire lunch?” Han Yoojin asked dubiously. He normally made a habit of checking his
work calendar every morning, and he didn’t remember such an event being listed there.

“Yeah, I guess it was scheduled pretty last-minute. It seems like the CEO suddenly had some
free time and wanted to socialize with the employees.”

“... The CEO?” Han Yoojin repeated, even more dubiously. “Does that typically happen in
companies like this?”

Seo Kyeonghoon paused to consider the question. “Not during the time I’ve spent here,” he
said finally. “There’s been talk of modernizing our work culture, though. Maybe it’s
something like that? Regardless, it’s a pretty rare opportunity, so you should definitely go.”

Han Yoojin pondered the suggestion. Seo Kyeonghoon had been the one to refer him to the
company, so he felt a little compelled to follow his advice. And moreover… “Since the CEO
is there, he would be the one treating, right?” He wondered aloud. “I mean, it is the CEO,
after all. It would be pretty stingy of him not to, right?”

Seo Kyeonghoon chuckled at the question. “I did hear mentions of catering, so that’s
probably the case.”
At that, Han Yoojin nodded decisively. “In that case, I couldn’t possibly decline his
hospitality.”

Apparently, everyone else had gotten the memo about this lunch before he had, because by
the time he arrived at the conference room where it was supposed to be held, the rest of the
room was already filled. It was a fairly large conference room, with the seats arranged around
a long, rectangular table. There was already food heaped along the center—a veritable buffet
of delicate-looking Western hors d'oeuvres alongside traditional Korean dishes, running the
gamut from meat to seafood to vegetables. Was this supposed to be a small company lunch,
or a feast for an army of starving beasts?

His cohort of new hires wasn’t particularly large—he’d started on a date that was far from
any university graduations, so the rest of his peers were also mostly off-season recruits from
other companies. As a result, there were only about twenty or so people in the room, all of
whom he’d met at one point or another. Choi Suryeon, Min Sohan, Lee Yushin… This
mysterious CEO was the only person whose face was unfamiliar to him.

Or at least, that should have been the case.

But Han Yoojin’s jaw dropped to the floor, dumbfounded, as he stared at that very familiar
visage.

The CEO was the only one not seated in a swivel chair, instead perched casually on the edge
of the conference table with his hands in his pockets like some middle-school delinquent.
With that radiant face and effortless grace, though, he looked more like a model on a
magazine cover, even placed in the midst of such a bland corporate setting. A light smile on
his perfect face, he turned toward Han Yoojin.

“They say that the star is always the last to arrive,” the CEO said mildly. Straightening up, he
walked to Han Yoojin and tilted his head. “Have we met before?”

Every fraction of his voice and posture was a mockery of their first meeting. Han Yoojin grit
his teeth, swallowing the retort that rose automatically to his tongue. It’s quite bold of you to
be propositioning me in a place like this. Sweeping over the rest of the room with his
peripheral vision, he instead rearranged his features into a polite, professional smile.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir. Could you remind me of where we might have
met?”

Though the curve of his lips remained fixed in place, he challenged the CEO with his gaze to
answer. If the man had the balls to admit to picking up an employee at a random bar, then he,
Han Yoojin, would gladly cry uncle.

The CEO’s smile deepened, though he didn’t call his bluff. “It seems to elude my memory as
well,” he cooed. “You must have left in a hurry. May I have the honor of your name, this
time?”

Han Yoojin’s mouth was starting to feel just a little bit stiff. “Han Yoojin, sir,” he said,
holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you for the first time.”
“Sung Hyunjae,” the CEO returned, a little smugly. “Though the pleasure of your first time
has already been mine, I’m afraid.”

… Asshole.

As his hand was enveloped in a firm shake, he lowered his head in a polite bow, if only to
escape, however temporarily, from Sung Hyunjae’s aggressive gaze. But he wasn’t fast
enough to miss the way his eyes raked up and down Han Yoojin’s body with a look of naked
displeasure.

All of a sudden, Han Yoojin felt extremely self-conscious. Sure enough, the new clothes were
too much, after all? He should have known better than to listen to the department store clerks
who kept reassuring him that he looked sharp and professional. It was always folly to fall for
a sales pitch.

Trying not to withdraw his hand so quickly that it looked like fleeing, Han Yoojin
straightened back up and cleared his throat. “Then,” he said firmly, “I’ll sit down now, sir.
Please carry on.”

“Hold on.”

Sung Hyunjae didn’t even give him the chance to take a single step forward before he placed
a hand on Han Yoojin’s shoulder. It was just a single hand, the most casual of touches, but it
still sent a shiver down his spine, the weight of the palm searing him like a brand. With just a
gentle push on his shoulder, Han Yoojin instinctively followed the movement and spun
around.

”Your shoe is untied.”

Sung Hyunjae smiled brilliantly, then without warning, he bent down and picked up one of
the laces on Han Yoojin’s shoe.

”S-Sir!” Han Yoojin protested, but he couldn’t very well kick his CEO in the face. Out of his
peripheral vision, he saw the bewildered faces of his coworkers, and there was a voice in the
back of his mind that was already trying to think of ways to spin this. Our CEO must just be
very egalitarian. Wasn’t there a rumor that he was a foreigner? Maybe it’s a cultural
difference. I’ve heard that the company is trying to move forward with a less hierarchical
work culture. Maybe he believes in leading by example.

In the minute or so that it took for him to spiral into drawing up worst-case exit plans, Sung
Hyunjae finished tightening the neat bow on his laces and stood up, looking as satisfied as if
he’d beaten a level on some particularly entertaining game rather than fixed the shoes of
someone at the bottom of the pecking order in his company. “There you go, then,” he said,
patting Han Yoojin on the back.

“… Thank you, sir,” Han Yoojin answered, mouth dry. Stiffly, he walked himself over to the
only open chair left and sat down. Like a prey animal huddling in on itself, he sat as still as
possible, hoping against hope that the people around him would forget the whole affair if he
didn’t draw any more attention.
Slowly, the meeting seemed to return to a more normal mood—-whatever that meant in such
an absurd situation as this. Han Yoojin continued to suffer in absolute silence as the chatter of
the rest of the room washed over him—his colleagues attempting to leave their best
impressions on the CEO with questions and elevator pitches each more stilted than the last.

Mr. Sung, I used to work in signal processing, and I was very intrigued by the company’s
research in expanding the use of that technology in everyday devices. Could you talk more
about your inspiration for investing in that line of research?

Mr. Sung, can I ask for your thoughts on how the global political situation will affect the
company’s direction in the near future? Does Seseong anticipate any major changes in its
operating strategy?

Mr. Sung, may I ask what prompted your decision to have Seseong expand into the
pharmaceutical sector? Isn’t that a very contested industry with a high turnover in players
right now?

At first, Han Yoojin simply scooped up a single small, buttery pastry onto his plate just for
the sake of pushing it around his fork to pretend that his hands were busy, but slowly, he
started to become more and more irritated with the whole situation. Who did Sung Hyunjae
think he was, anyways? Was one little stunt really going to cow Han Yoojin? Of course not.
He had more pride than that. One should never underestimate the iron will of someone who
had learned how to put enough food on the table for two growing boys by the age of fifteen.

As soon as the thought occurred to him, Han Yoojin began scooping large heaps of food onto
his plate. Anyways, this was an obscene amount for twenty people, and he fully intended to
charge for the emotional damages that had been incurred just now by taking home enough for
dinner, too. Engrossed in his fuming as he was, he didn’t notice Sung Hyunjae loop around
the table to scoop something up with the serving spoon and deposit it on his plate.

”Try this one, too. You don’t see it often here. It’s foie gras .”

”Thanks—” Han Yoojin’s reflexive reply tapered off into a choked cough, prompting Sung
Hyunjae to pat his back comfortingly.

“Oh dear, do you need assistance?” Sung Hyunjae asked mildly. “I’m trained in the Heimlich
maneuver, if that’s necessary.”

“… No need, sir,” Han Yoojin squeezed out.

Sung Hyunjae smiled beatifically. “How lucky. I would hate to keep finding us in situations
that result in such… acute respiratory challenges.”

Han Yoojin returned the smile tightly. “I’ve never backed away from a challenge. When
something is hard, isn’t it all the more worth doing?”

“There is some wisdom in that,” Sung Hyunjae allowed. “But some people have a tendency
to bite off more than they can swallow.”
“The first step, after all, is to swallow one’s pride,” Han Yoojin said sweetly. “Since a sizable
ego is far from commensurate with sizable… ability.”

“Well said,” Sung Hyunjae agreed. “Then, Mr. Han, given your continuing employment here,
may I take it to mean that you have a favorable impression of my… ability?”

The smile on Han Yoojin’s face became just a few degrees more acerbic. “I’m sure you don’t
need my humble opinion on that. The numbers don’t lie.”

“Your opinion is hardly humble,” Sung Hyunjae disagreed. “Employee satisfaction is

invaluable to me. That’s why I decided to host this lunch, after all.” All of a sudden, he
turned his head abruptly to address the employee to Han Yoojin’s right. “Things like strict
adherence to corporate hierarchy are rather old-fashioned nowadays, don’t you think?”

It was someone Han Yoojin wasn’t too familiar with. The employee blushed and stammered,
“Th-that’s right, Mr. Sung.”

Han Yoojin resisted the urge to snort. “And how long have you found it old-fashioned, sir?”

Sung Hyunjae smiled pleasantly. “About four days. You’ll find my thinking is quite
adaptable.”

“In some situations, one could call that ‘unprincipled,’” Han Yoojin informed him. “Ah, of
course, I’m not referring to you, sir. On a man so, ah, bold—” Shameless. “—clever—”
Annoying. “—and entrepreneurial—” Completely insane. “—it’s surely one of the many traits
that has steered Seseong to such heights.” He raised his plastic cup, still half-full with
company-provided water. “To our one-of-a-kind CEO, who has so kindly provided such an…
unforgettable experience for us humble juniors today. May your future endeavors bring you
as pleasant a surprise as you’ve brought to mine today.”

The expressions of the other members of the table looked a little blank, but at Sung
Hyunjae’s unfalteringly radiant smile, they each hesitantly raised their glasses and murmured
a few words of agreement or thanks.

Sung Hyunjae laughed merrily. “It sounds a little like I’m being driven away in a hurry, but I
can hardly refuse such a heartfelt toast. Oh, my, it seems I’ve forgotten my own cup, though.
You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed this?”

Without waiting for an answer, he plucked the plastic cup from Han Yoojin’s fingers and
raised it in the air.

“To employee satisfaction, then,” he said, his eyes dancing with mirth. Holding Han Yoojin’s
gaze, he tilted the cup very deliberately so that his lips were aligned with the imprint Han
Yoojin’s, and drank.

The rest of the room tipped their drinks back and followed suit, but Han Yoojin, deprived of
his own, could only watch the bob of Sung Hyunjae’s perfectly sculpted throat as he
swallowed. His mouth felt inexplicably dry.
Damn it. He could really have used that water.

After the toast, Sung Hyunjae gracefully set the empty plastic cup back into Han Yoojin’s
empty hand. “My thanks for the lovely company,” he said, eyes twinkling. “Then, I should be
off before my secretary yells at me again.”

And just like that, Sung Hyunjae departed, taking absolutely no responsibility for the mess
he’d made of Han Yoojin’s life.

“What the hell, Han Yoojin, you never told me you were friends with our CEO!” Lee Yushin
exclaimed, as soon as the door shut behind him. “Geez, and here I thought Manager Seo
Kyeongsoon was the one who got you in.”

“We’re not friends,” Han Yoojin attempted to explain. “I don’t know him.”

Lee Yushin snorted. “Sure, and you have a bridge to sell me. Hey, no need to be shy about it.
Connections are everything in this day and age, right?”

“I really don’t know him,” Han Yoojin insisted. “I think he’s just eccentric.”

“Yeah?” Lee Yushin squinted at him. “Huh. If you don’t know him yet, then mark my words,
I bet you’ll get to reeeal soon. Sung Hyunjae is famous for cultivating a lot of undiscovered
talents on a whim… Well, there are some less savory rumors, too, but I don’t think you have
to worry about those. Just remember to hook up your old pals sometime when you make it
big, huh?” She winked at him with a wolfish grin.

Han Yoojin laughed dryly. “Sure. If that happens.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the “talents” Sung Hyunjae had his eye on were
probably not the ones she was thinking of.

Han Yoojin had half-hoped that lunch had merely been a coincidence, but his meager hopes
were dashed as soon as he stepped out of the office building and saw a familiar head of
golden hair, wreathed in an ethereal halo where it was bathed in the glow of sunset. Sung
Hyunjae was leaning idly against the sleek, black body of an expensive-looking car, arms
folded, but as soon as Han Yoojin stepped into his field of view, he turned his head, looking
for all the world like a movie poster made flesh.

“Mr. Han,” Sung Hyunjae said, his voice rich and dulcet. “How fortuitous, to run into you
here.”

“Yes, how fortuitous,” Han Yoojin echoed sarcastically. “To run into you in front of the
building where you and I both work. I’m glad to see you’re skilled in the art of taking it easy,
sir. It wouldn’t do for our esteemed CEO to overly value such things as productivity or
industriousness.”
Sung Hyunjae tilted his head. “‘Sir’?” He repeated. “You can forget about such things as
titles and formalities after hours. I’m a strong believer in separating work and personal life.”

The smile on Han Yoojin’s lips flirted dangerously with the line between wry and mocking.
“Unfortunately, sir, I come from a long tradition of realism, which maintains that the mere
act of forgetting about something doesn’t make it untrue.”

“What commendable principles,” Sung Hyunjae acknowledged. “I suppose that means you’d
decline if I offered you a ride home, from one acquaintance to another?”

“You would suppose correctly, sir. I much prefer public transit. The environment and all that,
you know.”

“Mm.” Sung Hyunjae’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Then, if I ordered you to join me, as your
superior?”

“Well,” Han Yoojin pondered. “I suppose I would reluctantly agree. But depending on the
evidence gathered during the ride, you might find yourself with a lawsuit on your hands
afterwards.”

Sung Hyunjae laughed brightly. “That wouldn’t do. I couldn’t possibly allow you to come
away with such a poor impression on any ride with me, Mr. Han. Let’s compromise this way,
then.” Opening the door of the car behind him, Sung Hyunjae opened something that looked
like… a cooler installed in the back seats of the expensive foreign car. Retrieving a fancy
crystal glass and a bottle of water, he poured the water into the glass with all the finesse and
elegance that only the combination of natural grace and practice could grant.

Han Yoojin glanced at the label on the bottle. Something something mineral water from the
Swiss Alps. Of course.

“Here,” Sung Hyunjae said, offering the glass. “If you won’t accept the ride, then how about
a drink? Think of it as repayment for letting me borrow yours, earlier.”

Han Yoojin hesitated, but no matter how he mulled it over, it really was just water. Was he
overthinking things? It seemed a bit self-absorbed to suspect that Sung Hyunjae would go to
such absurd lengths to… What, exactly? To swindle an evening out of him? Surely, someone
like Sung Hyunjae had much better things to do.

Eventually, he acquiesced, reaching a hand out for the glass. But where the solid glass should
have been transferred cleanly to his fingers, instead, he felt a push against his hand as Sung
Hyunjae unexpectedly tilted the glass forward, letting the cold water trickle squarely onto the
front of his shirt. Han Yoojin could only watch, with a mix of dread and resignation, as the
entire front of his chest was soaked through, a chill settling almost immediately into his skin.

Staring at the slowly expanding stain, he couldn’t even find the energy to muster up anger.
After all, was there any point in getting mad at an earthquake or a typhoon? It was just a
poorly-obfuscated fact of society that people like him were forever at the whims of people
like Sung Hyunjae, whether it was through the impersonal cogs of hirings and layoffs, or…
this, the fact that his CEO apparently got some kick out of inconveniencing and humiliating,
specifically, him.

So, the most prominent thought in his mind at that moment was—thank goodness it was just
water. Water would easily dry and wash out.

Thank goodness, that Yoohyun’s gift hadn’t been ruined.

“Excuse my clumsiness,” Sung Hyunjae said softly. “But it wouldn’t do for you to take the
long trip by train in this state, Mr. Han. The weather is still quite cold, after all.”

Han Yoojin smiled tightly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Since you’ve insisted so
vehemently, sir, I suppose it would be rude of me to continue to refuse.”

If Han Yoojin’s smile could be considered strained, then the smile on Sung Hyunjae’s face
was positively chilling. Not in the way that there was anything obviously wrong with it, but
in how it seemed just a few degrees off, just the tiniest bit wrong. “Not rude, no. But I would
certainly be disappointed.” Ever the façade of the refined gentleman, he held the door of the
car open and gestured magnanimously.

Crawling into the backseats, Han Yoojin refused to be shocked by the luxury and
extravagance of the car. The curved, modified upholstery, clearly designed to maximize
spaciousness for the back seats only. The soundproof barrier between the driver’s seats and
the back, complete with futuristic controls and intercom panels. The sheer excess of the built-
in cooler and gold-rimmed cup holders. Even in something as mundane as a car, it was a
different world.

As soon as they were both seated, Sung Hyunjae fiddled with the touchscreen in front of him,
and the heater in the car roared to life, greatly alleviating the chill from the stain on his shirt.

“You’ll get sick if you keep that on,” Sung Hyunjae commented, resting his arm on the
windowsill. “Of course, if you need help taking it off, I’m more than happy to assist.”

Han Yoojin clicked his tongue. “I think I can make it until the end of the trip home. I’m not
exactly in a hurry to flash the entirety of the city,” he said sourly.

In reply, Sung Hyunjae slowly removed his own dress jacket and tossed it at him. Han Yoojin
stared at the expensive fabric in his lap for a moment, then wrinkled his nose and began
undoing his own buttons. Whatever bone he had to pick with Sung Hyunjae, it wasn’t worth
the cost of worrying Yoohyun over his health.

To wear Sung Hyunjae’s dress jacket was—well, to be frank, it was a humbling experience.
The size of the jacket overwhelmed his frame, to the point that he was practically swimming
in it. Though the interior lining of the jacket was silky soft, it was still clearly a garment
meant to be worn as an outer layer, and the fabric and seams were rough in unexpected spots
that dragged against his bare skin. Distracted by the bizarre sensations, he didn’t notice until
the car had nearly come to a stop that they were nowhere near his address.
“This…” Han Yoojin’s brow furrowed. It was the hotel they’d stopped at last time. But after
surviving the day thus far, he had no room left to feel shocked. “... doesn’t appear to be my
residence,” he finished blithely.

“With the traffic at this time of day, we’d be better off stopping here for you to change first,”
Sung Hyunjae answered in explanation.

Han Yoojin laughed dryly. He believed that about as far as he could throw the man.

The path he was led through was the exact same as the other night, down to the luxurious
hallway that led to the presidential suite that, even the first time, he had found ridiculously
excessive. A hotel was just a place for sleeping for the night, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that he
looked down on comfort, but there was a point where every additional extravagance became
merely a drop in the ocean.

But perhaps the view was different to someone who lived and breathed submerged in that
very ocean.

When Sung Hyunjae opened the door to the suite, though, he saw the one stark difference
that set it apart from last time. A metal clothing rack had been wheeled into the room,
densely packed with a line of identical white button-up shirts. To be precise, there were slight
differences between them—subtle variations in the collar, the length, the cut—but the
differences might as well have been lost on him. Even back at the department store, he’d had
to rely solely on the clerks’ suggestions to navigate the mountain of indistinguishable options
set before him and poor Yoohyun, who’d been just about equally lost.

“Don’t tell me, sir,” Han Yoojin said bitingly, “Your entrepreneurial foresight is so all-
encompassing that you even foresaw your accident with my shirt?”

“I wouldn’t dare to claim such an ability.” Sung Hyunjae’s mouth was still arranged in that
shallow smile, seemingly unperturbed by anything Han Yoojin could throw at him. “This is
merely a small token of appreciation that I meant to give to someone I met last week, but
alas, that person left before I could do so.”

“In that case, it would be rude of me to help myself to someone else’s gift, wouldn’t it?”

“I have a feeling that the person in question wouldn’t mind the loss of a single item,” Sung
Hyunjae said graciously.

“There’s no need for it to be a loss,” Han Yoojin told him tartly. “I’ll be sure to wash it and
return it to you tomorrow.”

Sung Hyunjae raised an eyebrow. “Even if you returned it to me, there’s nothing I would be
able to do with a shirt of that size. It seems much more economical to leave it in the
possession of someone who has use for it. But, I’ll happily dispose of that one for you
instead.” He pointed to the damp shirt still clutched in Han Yoojin’s arms.

“‘Dispose of’?” Han Yoojin repeated incredulously. “This is a gift from my brother. Of
course I’m not disposing of it.”
“That brother again,” Sung Hyunjae murmured under his breath, then shrugged. “I can assure
you that the value of any one of these items is more than tenfold the piece of cloth you’re
holding on to. Kiton. Cucinelli. Tom Ford. Take your pick. Your brother is alive and well, no?
He can always give you another gift.”

“Perhaps you’re not familiar with the concept of receiving gifts from people you care about,
sir.” Han Yoojin shot him a ferocious glare. “You treasure the gift because of the memories it
holds, not because of how much it’s worth.”

“In my experience, sentimental value is simply another type of exchangeable value,” Sung
Hyunjae remarked flatly. “Feel free to name a price. How much, exactly, is your sentiment
for your brother worth to you?”

If Han Yoojin could have rolled his eyes so hard they would have traversed the back of his
skull, he absolutely would have. “What, is the CEO of Seseong so desperate for a heartfelt
present that he would resort to buying someone else’s? What exactly do you think my
brother’s feelings are worth? A million won? Ten million? A billion?”

Sung Hyunjae inclined his head. “Whichever you decide.”

At that, Han Yoojin laughed in his face, loud and ringing. Reaching up, he seized hold of
Sung Hyunjae’s tie and yanked it harshly until they were eye level. “Then, please listen very
carefully, Sung Hyunjae. You could offer me Seseong’s entire net worth, down to the very
last won, and I wouldn’t so much as look twice at your deal. You want to play games? Tear a
happy family apart? Go find someone else.”
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

When he was done speaking, Han Yoojin released Sung Hyunjae’s tie and gave him a hard
shove. Given the difference in their builds, he was comparatively more successful in
propelling himself backwards, but the message was made clear. Sung Hyunjae watched him
stagger back, quickly righting himself.

Han Yoojin in anger was a sight to behold—that was an undeniable fact. Cheeks flushed red,
his vibrant eyes fervent and unwavering. His fists were clenched at his sides, the tilt of his
chin stubborn and unyielding.

“While we’re being direct,” Han Yoojin continued, “I don’t imagine you went to the trouble
of booking this exact room just for a coincidental stop. So let’s tie up any loose ends here and
now. One, no, I didn’t know of your identity that night, or I definitely wouldn’t have agreed.
Two, no, I didn’t keep any private material that could be used as blackmail. And three, no, I
don’t want any money from you. Is there anything else?”

The hostile glare directed at Sung Hyunjae threatened to bite off his nose if he so much as
considered a wayward answer. He was struck by the urge to laugh, but he tamped it down
into an appropriately restrained smile, instead.

“How do I know,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back, “that you didn’t, in fact, keep
any private materials of our night? I only have your word for it.”

Han Yoojin’s eyebrow twitched. He dug into his pocket to pull out a battered-looking phone,
unlocking the screen and shoving it into Sung Hyunjae’s hands. “Look all you like. There’s
nothing there.”

Sung Hyunjae took the phone, scrolling through his photo album curiously. It was mostly
pictures of pets—a fluffy orange cat, a little white chick, a tiny, iridescent snake—along with
a tall young man who must’ve been this aforementioned brother. There was something about
his face that tickled at Sung Hyunjae’s memory—besides the subtle, though clear,
resemblance to his brother’s—but it continued to escape his grasp. He quickly shelved the
thought and continued to browse.

There were very few photos of Han Yoojin himself, and those that existed were all group
photos taken by someone else. It took nearly two full minutes of scrolling before Sung
Hyunjae managed to find one singular photo of Han Yoojin alone, an awkward shot taken in
front of the bathroom mirror of himself in a poorly fitted suit. The lighting was dim, the angle
completely unflattering, and half of his face was hidden by the positioning of his phone.

“Do you not know how to take selfies, Mr. Han?” Sung Hyunjae remarked with amusement.
“You should start with lighting that enhances the contours of your face, then find an angle
that draws out your appeal.”
“Excuse me?! Where are you looking?” Han Yoojin asked in disbelief, stretching out his
fingers to try to snatch his phone back. The extra height that Sung Hyunjae had on him
proved a hurdle too tall to overcome, though, the tips of his slim fingers not even brushing
against the screen as Sung Hyunjae opened the camera app and adjusted it experimentally.

“Like this,” he said with satisfaction, once he’d found a suitable position. “This angle rather
suits you. Take note of it for the future. And smile, Mr. Han.”

That was all the warning he gave before the shutter noise clicked. Sung Hyunjae examined
the resulting photo. Han Yoojin certainly wasn’t smiling in it, but his widened eyes and his
flush of indignation were rather cute. In a series of quick, fluid taps, Sung Hyunjae texted the
photo to his own number, then saved the number into the phone as a contact.

“Are you done messing around yet?” Han Yoojin demanded impatiently, still half-heartedly
trying to steal his phone back.

“Almost,” Sung Hyunjae said casually. “Coincidentally, what was the purpose of the selfie?”

The flush of anger on Han Yoojin’s face turned a darker red, perhaps from embarrassment.
“It’s none of your business,” he said stubbornly.

“A dating app?” Sung Hyunjae guessed.

Han Yoojin bit his lip silently, which was as good as an admission. “It wasn’t my idea,” he
tried to defend himself. “I was threatened into it.”

Sung Hyunjae hummed pensively. “Which app?”

Looking rather perplexed at the line of questioning, Han Yoojin told him the name. It was one
of the more popular ones. With a nod, Sung Hyunjae searched up the name of the app on the
phone and clicked the little trash can icon without hesitation.

“There,” he beamed, handing the phone back to Han Yoojin. “I’ve done you the favor of
deleting it.”

Han Yoojin stared at him with a dumbfounded expression. He’d lost some of his initial
indignation for complete bewilderment, it seemed.

“Don’t tell me,” Han Yoojin said tartly, “that you also deleted it under suspicion that this
dating app held some of those so-called ‘private materials’ that you were so worried about.”

“One can never be too careful with one’s information these days,” Sung Hyunjae said
amiably. “Haven’t you heard of catfishers, for example?”

Han Yoojin snorted. “You think someone would use your face to catfish? What for? To
disgust any potential matches?”

“Mr. Han,” Sung Hyunjae said, leaning forward until their very breaths intermingled. “We’re
being direct with each other right now, are we not? Do you mean to say that you didn’t enjoy
my face the other night?” His lips curved with mirth. “Because I quite enjoyed yours.”
Han Yoojin swallowed visibly, his throat bobbing as he glanced away. “… That’s got nothing
to do with this,” he said unconvincingly. Squaring his shoulders, he seemed to regain some of
his composure as he shot Sung Hyunjae a scathing glare. “Anyways, if you’re satisfied, then
I’ll be going. Sir.”

“Wait.” Sung Hyunjae turned back to the clothing rack, flicking deftly through the hangers.
He found a shirt with a bit of a flared cut that emphasized the waist, plucking it from the
rack. “Perhaps you’d like to change into something different before you go,” he remarked
with amusement.

He saw Han Yoojin glance downwards, his shoulders stiffening as he remembered his current
haphazard state of dress. Shrugging off the too-large outer jacket, he shoved it back into Sung
Hyunjae’s arms with a huff. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Please,” Sung Hyunjae insisted. “Consider it my compensation for the… inconvenience I’ve
put you through.”

Han Yoojin glared at him with annoyance. “It was an accident, after all,” he said through his
teeth. “So no need.”

He was already shaking out his still-damp and now thoroughly wrinkled shirt to put back on.
That wouldn’t do.

“What a pity,” Sung Hyunjae commented regretfully, holding up the shirt to inspect it. “It
seems like this style is so distasteful that Mr. Han won’t even take it as a gift. I suppose I
might as well get rid of it, then. Luckily, it was only seven million won —”

“Fine.” Han Yoojin snatched the shirt out of his hands none too happily, shoving his arms
into the sleeves. “Happy?”

Sung Hyunjae held up his arms in a gesture that was half-shrug, half-surrender. “Of course.
The well-being of my employees is ever on my mind, as I’ve mentioned.”

“Then, in that case, have a good evening, sir. Thanks so much for your consideration,” Han
Yoojin bit out with as much vitriol as he could muster, then stormed out the room, yanking
the door closed heavily behind him. Just before it was about to slam thunderously shut,
though, he seemed to think better of the action, stopping the door with his foot and letting it
click gently closed.

Once he was gone, Sung Hyunjae finally allowed himself a full-bodied laugh, sinking
contentedly into the armchair by the desk. Even as his laughter subsided and he leaned back
in his seat, the corners of his mouth refused to settle back down into place.

Really, when was the last time he’d found himself looking forward to something so much?

There was something that still prodded at the corner of his mind, though, so, annoyed as it
made him, he turned his thoughts back to his earlier doubts.
A young man who resembled Han Yoojin only in the most oblique of ways. First in his class
at Seoul University, studying medicine…

Sung Hyunjae snapped his fingers as recognition finally dawned on him. This would prove to
be interesting, indeed, he thought with a chuckle.

The world could be such a small place, after all.

Han Yoojin fumed silently on the short train ride back home, his fingers practically digging
grooves into the handles of the subway train from how tight he was gripping it. His palms
still felt sweaty, his heart pounding and his skin hot from a rush that could only be anger.

After counting slowly to twenty to calm himself, he took out his phone and scrolled through
his photos irately, checking for anything out of place. Pictures of Peace, pictures of Chirpie,
more pictures of Peace… Although he would never, ever admit aloud that his phone might
have too many pictures of his pets, he did have to concede that all of the photos of the two of
them began to blur together in his memory. In any case, as far as he could tell, it didn’t seem
like Sung Hyunjae had messed with anything. Except for that stupid selfie in the most recent
slot.

Navigating furiously to the photo, his finger hovered over the delete icon for a solid few
minutes. What was all this nonsense about learning to take selfies, anyways? It was just
pointing the camera at yourself and clicking the button. Han Yoojin’s quiet fuming
intensified. Although, he did have to admit that Sung Hyunjae looked good in this photo. It
was probably a trick of the light, right? Some stupid photographer’s illusion that made him
look more photogenic and hid all of his flaws. Such as his terrible personality.

Really, if only there was some way to swap out everything about him but the face.

Han Yoojin was still in the middle of dithering when a jolt of the carriage sent the person
behind him crashing into him. Reflexively, he muttered an apology—though he silently
berated himself afterwards for doing so. It wasn’t like he was at fault for the train’s
movement. By the time he looked down at his phone again, he realized that his finger must
have brushed against the delete button at some point, because the photo was gone. Hurriedly,
he navigated to the trash where the photo had been sent and carefully selected the recover
option.

It was important evidence, after all. For if he ever decided to file a harassment case.

The walk home from the station was only a short ten minutes, and he flung the front door
open as soon as he returned. “I’m back!” He called.

Only silence greeted him. Well, it couldn’t be helped. Yoohyun was living on his own now.
The apartment had been somewhat cramped for two growing boys, but now that it was just
him, it felt strangely empty.

He did, however, hear the pitter-patter of tiny paws on the ground as Peace trotted over,
rubbing its face enthusiastically against Han Yoojin’s leg. Bending down, he patted the
orange cat, shaking his hand afterwards to dislodge the clumps of fur that had made their
home between his fingers. After a stretch and a yawn, he plodded over to the kitchen to open
a can of cat food and empty it into Peace’s bowl. He also chopped up a carrot into small
pieces, bringing the chunks to Chirpie’s cage.

“Sorry, Dad is late,” he said in a hushed voice. “Did you miss me, Chirpie?”

The little bird let out a plaintive cheep, and he laughed before opening the door to let it out. It
made its home comfortably in his hair as he fed it the carrots and topped off its food bowl.
Having finished its dinner, Peace had come wandering back, meowing discontentedly at
being ignored.

“Okay, okay,” Han Yoojin grumbled, sitting down so Peace could climb into his lap.
“Remember, no fighting,” he warned. If cats could do so, he would have sworn that Peace
threw a dirty look at Chirpie before settling into his lap to be pampered.

He scrolled through his phone for a few minutes like that, petting Peace idly with one hand as
Chirpie roosted in his hair, chattering noisily every once in a while. A thought suddenly
struck him, and he turned on the camera of his phone, snapping a photo at the angle he
recalled. It wasn’t that he had any particular motives, he reasoned. It was just for science.
Shooting off a quick nonsense message, he attached the photo to a text and pressed send.

Bak Yerim’s reply was instant.

omg!!! ahjussi, you finally learned how to take a selfie!!!

Followed by a string of emojis that looked like a person crying and a pair of hands clasped in
prayer.

Han Yoojin frowned, slowly typing a response.

Is it that much better? I thought my other photo was fine, too.

no!!!!!!!!! go delete the other one right now!!!! replace the picture on your profile
immediately!!

Oh, that. Han Yoojin chewed the inside of his cheek.

I can’t. The app got deleted on accident.

then redownload it!!! dont worry everything is saved on your account

Han Yoojin scowled at the reply. “I’m not that old, okay?!” He complained aloud. “I know
how phones work.”

and send me proof when you’re done!! Bak Yerim added.

Begrudgingly, Han Yoojin did as she said, finding the stupid dating app in the store again
before watching the icon slowly fill out on his screen. Once it was finally done loading, he
clicked into it and typed his password—Yoohyun’s birthday, the same password that he used
for everything, despite the grumblings about cybersecurity that kept getting thrown his way
—and watched his profile pop up. The profile that Bak Yerim and Moon Hyuna had gleefully
typed up on his behalf, to be precise.

Reading the text always made him cringe, so he skipped past it hurriedly and went straight to
the photos. Only the first photo in the set was of himself—the rest were all of Peace and
Chirpie. He’d gotten an earful for that, but it wasn’t as if he was filling this out seriously.
With a sigh, he swapped out the first picture for the one he’d just taken, then took a
screenshot and sent it to Bak Yerim.

omg finally the matches will come rolling in!!!! tell us when you get your first date ahjussi!!

It was followed by another cascade of glittering emojis of varying colors. With a roll of his
eyes, Han Yoojin put down his phone and got up to prepare dinner for himself. Peace
squawked in protest as it was dislodged, and he patted its head to soothe it before heading to
the kitchen again. Luckily, there were leftovers from the previous night that he only had to
heat up, and he was stirring the pot absently when his phone buzzed. He glanced at it out of
the corner of his eye, but the notification icon wasn’t one he recognized immediately.

“Oh,” he realized after a few minutes. It was that stupid dating app he’d just put back on his
phone.

Curious, he opened it to find three new messages already waiting for him. Two were from
people asking if he would introduce them to Peace and Chirpie, and he had to laugh and
shake his head at the fact that even on a dating app, his pets were more popular than he was.
He declined politely, though he did send both of them a few more photos of the two to make
up for it. The last message, though, was bizarrely short and plain.

Good evening.

Those two words were the extent of the message. Baffled, Han Yoojin clicked on the profile.

Song Taewon. Government official. Height: 193 cm. Hobbies: None. Interests: Public safety.
Most of his photos were of himself standing stiffly against a neutral background, with only
one singular picture of him in athletic clothes running along a track.

Did a person like this actually exist? Surely people only said things like, “My work is my
passion” to get hired at job interviews? After scrolling down, Han Yoojin had to double back
to read the height again, because a hundred and ninety-three centimeters? No way this guy
was real.

Good evening! He replied, along with a neutral smiling face to indicate goodwill, though he
was half expecting to get some robotic nonsense back. Sure enough, the reply came almost
instantly.

The pictures of your pets are nice.

Han Yoojin shook his head with amusement. Even some of the spam calls he sometimes
picked up for fun could come up with more realistic auto-generated responses than this. He
wondered how long it would take for this fake account to either drop the punchline or start
trying to swindle money out of him.

Thanks. I like your running photo, too. Any chance you have more?

If it was indeed a fake account, they’d probably decline, he reasoned. And if they were real,
well—you couldn’t fault someone for being wary online in this day and age. However, the
response immediately validated his caution.

I apologize. I do not have any other photos.

And then, a few minutes later.

Good night.

Han Yoojin stared at the messages for a while longer, utterly confounded. For a scam
account, they sure weren’t trying very hard. Perhaps it had been made simply as a joke, then?
He fired off one last message to see if he would get another stock response, but the line had
gone quiet. His dinner was ready, though, so he quickly put the conversation out of his mind
and turned off the stove. After returning Chirpie to its cage, he began to eat, chewing
mechanically on each bite.

By the time he was done, it was far later than it usually was when he finished dinner. Under
his breath, he cursed Sung Hyunjae. He contemplated giving Yoohyun a call, but after a
glance at the clock, his finger only hovered over the button without pressing down. Though
Han Yoohyun would never complain, he would hate to have disturbed Yoohyun while he was
resting. Even after graduating, it seemed that Yoohyun was busy with all kinds of things—
research and paperwork and whatnot. He wasn’t sure of the details, since Han Yoohyun rarely
spoke about his school or work.

Of course, it was understandable. Han Yoojin hadn’t even finished high school, only
obtaining the equivalent credentials by testing out of it. As for something as lofty as medical
school? Forget it, he hadn’t the faintest clue. Yoohyun wasn’t really the talkative sort, so he
probably wouldn’t find it appealing to explain every little thing to his hyung. It couldn’t be
helped. Han Yoojin didn’t need to know all of the gritty details to be proud of his brother.

With a sigh, he put away his phone and cleared away the dishes, getting ready for bed. As he
set his alarm and tucked himself in, though, he deviated from his usual routine just a little—
whispering a small, silent prayer to whichever higher powers might be listening.

Please, please grant him a peaceful, quiet day tomorrow, he thought. Free of the walking
migraine in human form known as Sung Hyunjae, a.k.a., his company’s CEO.
Chapter End Notes

social media illiterate HYJ is something that is so near and dear to my heart

you have to imagine me shaking my head the whole time I'm writing this so you know
that I disapprove of HYJ's dogshit taste in men
Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!