As they descended in the elevator, neither of them said a word. Only a faint humming moved between the floors, reflecting in the metallic walls. They left the hotel and silently walked away, toward where there were no lights or people. The city dissolved behind them—noises died down, the air became denser. Their steps stopped at the back of an old villa: not a single streetlamp, only the smell of damp stone and the quiet, even rustle of distant cars.
Jihwan and Seonyeong finally looked at each other. Seonyeong spoke first:
— Before we start, clarify one thing. You've been hiding nearby this whole time and just came out now? You weren't in the lounge.
Jihwan slightly looked away and quietly coughed.
— You know... I was close.
— And watching through the cameras?
He didn't answer, but his expression spoke for itself. Seonyeong wearily ran a hand across his forehead.
— Then tell me, — he raised an eyebrow, — was the GPS tracker also your work?
Silence. Only a slight movement of his chin, like a non-verbal confession. Seonyeong clenched his teeth and hit Jihwan's chest with a muffled sound.
— You're crazy, — he spat out. — A damn stalker.
Jihwan didn't react. He just looked straight ahead, restrained, as if waiting for his turn.
— And who asked you to meet people like Lo? — he shot back. — You are too defenseless.
— What? — Seonyeong frowned. — Defenseless?
— Lo may look like an innocent heiress, but she is never alone. She always has people from Neura Labs with her. Do you want to be in their crosshairs again? Why are you so careless?
Seonyeong snorted:
— And you? You, whom they sold, on whom they conducted experiments, you pop up in the city center as if you don't care. What if she took a picture of you and sent it to her grandfather?
— That's why I wore a mask.
— You can be recognized from a mile away. Even under a mask, I can see you pouting your lips, — Seonyeong smirked. — And Lo is truly alone now. She always went out without security when she went on dates before, too.
— Lo-noona? — Jihwan interrupted, barely suppressing his irritation. — Where did you even get a 'noona' from?
If someone were observing this scene from the side, they would think they were looking at two teenagers arguing out of jealousy, not two dangerous men. Seonyeong sighed, looking away wearily:
— Alright, enough. — He wanted to end the conversation, but Jihwan suddenly grabbed his wrist.
— What now? — Seonyeong asked, stunned, when he felt Jihwan's fingers trembling.
— W-where are you going?
— Nowhere. — He slightly tugged his hand, but Jihwan didn't let go.
— Are you... going to look for a new partner? — he asked quietly.
Seonyeong narrowed his eyes:
— What?
— Yesterday—a gay bar, today—a lounge. Do you take your fun on a schedule?
— That's not it! — Seonyeong flared up. — Do you think I live for pleasure?
— Don't you? You built a temple of pleasure and called it Vermilion.
Seonyeong fell silent. He couldn't say there wasn't a kernel of truth in that.
Jihwan lowered his gaze; his voice became softer but heavier:
— Do you really like women like Lo?
— No.
— Then why did you approach her twice?
Seonyeong shrugged. — She just sees what she wants to see.
— You like women too much, — Jihwan said quietly. — It's time to learn to be alone.
Seonyeong chuckled:
— Fine. Then I'll date men.
Jihwan's eyes widened. His fingers tightened their grip on Seonyeong's hand.
— But... you like women.
— Yeah. But men aren't bad either. You showed me yourself, — Seonyeong replied with a smirk.
Jihwan looked away, as if afraid he would be exposed again. He couldn't hide how his shoulders were shaking. Seonyeong slowly turned, as if about to leave, but the next moment Jihwan abruptly hugged him from behind, tightly, painfully.
— Ugh... — Seonyeong exhaled, feeling Jihwan's chest pounding against his back. The air between them grew dense.
— Don't date them, — Jihwan whispered.
— Who?
— Just... don't, — he breathed out.
Seonyeong froze. The city around them seemed to vanish. Even the sound of cars dissolved.
— Why? — he asked softly. — You yourself said there's nothing between us. That you don't care who I'm with. Isn't the main thing that I stay alive?
Jihwan flinched, pressing himself against his shoulder. His voice trembled:
— You know. I like you. I want to be special to you... — he stumbled, — and I think I messed everything up.
Seonyeong was silent. He felt Jihwan's tense fingers trembling, his breathing hitching. He looked as if he was clinging on with his last strength, afraid that if he let go—everything would disappear.
— Am I really unsuitable? — Jihwan whispered. — Absolutely no chance?
Seonyeong gently released his hands and turned around. He looked into Jihwan's face for a moment in silence. Then he reached out and took off his mask. Under the moonlight, tear tracks glistened on his cheeks. He cradled Jihwan's face in his palms and said quietly:
— Fool. Why lie when it's still visible?
He leaned in and kissed him. Gently at first, almost lazily. Jihwan froze, but when the warm lips touched his, he responded—awkwardly, sincerely. The air around them filled with heat. Their breaths mingled. Then—a soft pulling away, a short sound like an exhale.
Jihwan stood bewildered, his eyes wet. Seonyeong smiled slightly:
— I recently realized I like how you cry. — He tilted his head, looking straight at him. — So... I'll give you another chance. Do you want it?
Jihwan blinked, as if he didn't believe it. Then he whispered:
— Yes.
***
Park Kichul fidgeted in front of the mirror like a fish out of water. He adjusted his hair, his tie, even the collar of his shirt. An important client was due to arrive any minute—a wealthy lady who could save his business. He took a deep breath, smiled to himself, and muttered: «Sweetheart, come quickly. I'm waiting.» Since Ryu Seonyeong and Oh Rian left, business had been bad. Clients were leaving one after another, and "Vermilion" was emptying. Kichul grabbed at any opportunity. Today he intended to prove he could stay afloat.
The entrance bell rang. Kichul turned around, straightened his shoulders, and stepped forward with a ready smile.
— Sweetheart, you're... — he faltered. — Ryu Seonyeong?
He stood before him—calm, in a short beige jacket and gray scarf, with that very gaze that no longer held the coldness of before.
— Back at work starting today? — Kichul asked uncertainly.
— No, — Seonyeong smirked. — Just checking who's still alive.
He looked around, then leaned against the counter:
— Oh, has Director Rian arrived yet?
— No... not yet.
— Hmm. Oh well.
He was about to leave when Kichul couldn't help himself and grabbed his arm:
— Wait. You... with that person... is everything alright?
— With who?
— With Lee Kang-in.
Seonyeong thought for a second, then simply replied:
— Everything is fine.
And at that exact moment, the door opened. He walked in—tall, in a long coat, with that gaze that made people pause. Kang-in's eyes swept the room, paused on Kichul, and he said evenly:
— You said he wasn't here?
— Yeah. — Seonyeong nodded. — Let's wait outside.
— Do you want coffee?
— Only if it's with something sweet.
Their conversation sounded so calm, as if nothing had happened. Kichul watched them as if watching a scene from a drama series, and suddenly asked almost in a whisper:
— Are you... dating?
Seonyeong cleared his throat, looked at Kang-in, and reluctantly nodded.
— Yep.
Kang-in, already walking towards the exit, paused for a moment and smiled with the corners of his lips. Kichul exhaled in awe-struck horror:
— A true legend. A gay icon.
— Shut up, — Seonyeong grumbled. — And call me when Rian shows up.
But before he could step out, Oh Rian rushed into the room, breathless, phone in hand:
— Hyungnim! I saw your car...
He abruptly stopped, noticing all three of them. The air froze. Kichul switched his gaze from one to the other, then, stunned, pointed a finger:
— ...Hyungnim? Him?
— Uh... — Rian was flustered. — No, him. — He pointed at Kang-in.
Kichul only blinked, not understanding when everything had managed to turn upside down.
That evening, the three of them sat in a private room at "Vermilion." The space was vast, echoing, and completely silent. On the table—only three bottles of water. Seonyeong, Rian, and Kang-in.
— Honestly, — Seonyeong said, crossing his arms, — I didn't want you two to meet. But he insisted. He wanted to apologize.
He nodded at Kang-in. The latter looked up and, hesitantly but directly, said:
— I'm sorry... for what happened then.
Rian looked at him, was silent for a long time, then smirked:
— Oh, come on. It's fine.