Chapter 5

An awkward silence hung thick inside the private consultation room.

Seated across from Gyuhan was, by pure coincidence, the very same representative from the last matchmaking agency that had kicked him out. She was the one who had gently sugarcoated his expulsion by claiming her company lacked the capacity to hold a client of his caliber. Moved by her modesty, Gyuhan had resolved to become her lifelong patron until he found his destined soulmate, only for her to block his number the moment he stepped out the door.

“You haven’t changed one bit, dear member…” the consultant remarked, her tone heavy with dismay.

She hastily added, “Ah, what I mean is that you look just as youthful as you did back then. Quite a baby face you have. Ha, haha.”

“Yes. I am quite baby-faced,” Gyuhan replied with absolute gravity.

There was no need for false modesty here. Even without factoring in his looks, the rest of his profile offered nothing commendable, and the years were steadily slipping away. Gyuhan felt a deep, bitter lament that he had reached this age without yet crossing paths with his hypothetical, yet undeniably real, future bride.

Driven by that urgency, he pressed his appeal even harder.

“I still work out regularly, make an effort to eat clean food, and maintain a strict habit of sleeping early and rising early. Well, as much as humanly possible, that is.”

“Right… And you mentioned you washed your hands of your past?”

“I washed them thoroughly in the restroom right before walking in here. I’m the kind of guy who scrubs down thoroughly after doing his business. If I catch anyone walking out without washing their hands, I personally drag them back to the sink and demonstrate proper technique. Ah, only with fellow guys, of course. Always remember to lather up and scrub for thirty seconds.”

“No. I meant professionally clean… And I wash my hands too.”

“Ah, that kind of washing hands? Of course. My hands have been clean for ages. All of that old family business was completely settled back in my father’s father’s generation.”

The consultant nodded. My father’s father… He could have easily shortened those seven syllables into a single word like grandfather, but considering he looked terrifyingly healthy enough to take the long way around without breaking a sweat, it hardly mattered.

The real dilemma was that she desperately wanted to send Cha Gyuhan packing, but she had no valid excuse. At least not within this new company’s database. Gyuhan’s criminal record was completely spotless, leaving zero grounds for disqualification.

I almost wish he’d just done a prison bid once.

The consultant squeezed her eyes shut in silent despair. In reality, it was not Gyuhan but his attorney friend who had recently contemplated beating Gyuhan senseless and doing time just for some peace of mind…

Even without knowing that, the endless stream of complaints from Gyuhan’s previous dates surged back vividly. Reunited with a client she never expected to see again, the nightmares she had desperately tried to bury crawled back from the past.

Why the hell is this man still unmarried, and how did he manage to track me down all the way here?

He felt like a cursed doll that kept finding its way back no matter how many times it was discarded. Even worse, why was his physical vessel so infuriatingly well-preserved? Time seemed to have completely bypassed him. If anything, his skin looked even better. How was that even possible? Did living entirely without a care hold the secret to eternal youth? Feeling as though she were absorbing all the aging that time had spared him, the consultant finally broke down and asked, “Considering how cooperative and enthusiastic you always were back then, I never imagined we would cross paths again. As your former manager, it truly breaks my heart. You are such an attractive man…”

“Well, I do have plenty of popularity.”

“Then why on earth…”

“How should I put it? There’s no electric spark. What I’m searching for is true destiny.”

If you want destiny, you should be meeting people organically in the wild! Demanding a fated romance through a commercial matchmaking agency instead of natural encounters? What kind of nonsense is that? Can you even call that destiny? If so, destiny was a remarkably artificial system.

The consultant stared with dead eyes, offering a hollow, mechanical, “Right.”

Meanwhile, Gyuhan was already rambling on about his personal convictions and grand theory of destiny. He explained that upon meeting her, a realization had to strike him like a bolt of lightning to the crown of his skull. Even if that didn’t happen, the memory of her had to linger, soaking his daily life with sweet, tender moisture. Have you ever tried tiramisu? Isn’t it wonderfully moist? I’m naturally in the soft-baked chocolate chip camp, so moisture is crucial. If my daily existence can be soaked in that same happiness alongside her, then that is true destiny…

“Right. So what you’re saying is that soft-baked chocolate chip cookies are your ultimate snack of choice? Understood…”

“No, that’s not the point at all, ma’am. What I’m trying to say is—”

“Dear member!”

Just as Gyuhan geared up for another round of explanation, the consultant snapped her head up and fixed him with wide, pleading eyes.

“May I offer you a single piece of advice? I ask purely out of utmost caution, but with a sincere desire to see you succeed.”

Gyuhan blinked, then nodded slowly. The consultant lunged forward, clasping his massive hands in hers with the desperation of a beggar. In fact, it was a genuine plea.

“In truth, there are dozens of things I want to tell you, but for now…”

Her mind spun as countless past complaints flashed before her eyes. Sifting through the wreckage, she pulled out the single most urgent, actionable adjustment he could make.

“Please, please, please, could you just not talk about your friend?”

That had been the primary reason behind his endless string of rejections at the previous agency. Whenever he sat down on a date, he spent the entire time rambling about his best friend. Women would politely humor him with scripted reactions—Oh, really? Wow, is that so? My goodness, really?—but there was a limit to how many times anyone could endure that. If only he had provided a proper explanation, but without a shred of background context, he simply babbled on about what he and his friend had done, what they had bought, what happened when they went there, how they had drunk each other under the table…

A man with too many friends and hobbies was already a tough sell, but a man who shared all those hobbies exclusively with one friend and capped off every outing with drinks was an absolute dealbreaker. The interest died instantly in every woman’s eyes.

Naturally, the consultant did not lay out the brutal truth so plainly. Sifting through her diplomatic phrasing, Gyuhan blinked and furrowed his brow. His prominent, sharp features and thick eyebrows gave him the striking presence of a television drama protagonist, yet the words emerging from his handsome mouth were an endless source of exasperation.

“But all of those were just rehearsals for my dates.”

What is he talking about?

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

The explanation was so utterly absurd that her response slipped out in the rigid cadence of a military recruit.

“I lack romantic experience,” Gyuhan continued earnestly. “I had no idea where to take a lady or what we should do once we got there, so I did some field research and advance preparation. Obviously, traveling to whichever neighborhood the lady prefers is basic courtesy, but shouldn’t I scout out the local cinemas, find the best cafes, and check the hiking trails if we decide to go climbing? Don’t you agree?”

A lady… The consultant chewed on the archaic word, a term she recognized but rarely heard in modern conversation. “No, sir. People usually don’t do that.”

“Really?”

“People rarely do that with their friends… Is your friend a woman?”

“Good grief, how could I do something so unscrupulous?” Gyuhan scoffed, genuinely appalled. “Do I look like some player? Only predatory gigolos pull stunts like that.”

Gyuhan denied it with solemn gravity. True enough; a female friend would have been an even bigger disaster.

Yet learning the friend was male did not bring much relief. The core issue was not the friend’s gender, but Gyuhan’s relentless obsession with bringing him up.

“Right… So you scouted romantic date spots exclusively with a male friend?”

“Yes. Is there a problem with that?”

No, there’s no problem. No problem at all… His absolute conviction was so overwhelming that she felt petty for even questioning it, shrinking slightly beneath his imposing confidence.

Realizing she was on the verge of apologizing to him, she gave her head a sharp shake to clear the fog. She had momentarily forgotten how effortlessly this man threw people off their rhythm. Stay professional. Don’t get swept into his pace.

“I understand your intentions, dear member, but I strongly advise you to keep stories about your friend to yourself. Some of your previous matches assumed your friend was a woman, and even when they knew the truth, listening to it wasn’t particularly pleasant.”

“So you’re telling me to choose between friendship and love.”

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t settle for love without an electric spark?”

“Even so, approaching any meeting without absolute sincerity is a breach of basic manners.”

Is this man a player or a naive fool? A master or a total novice?

Dizziness gripped her. The consultant nodded vaguely and retreated to her primary duty of extracting revenue. Since he clearly had money to burn, she decided to milk his wallet for all it was worth. She briefly considered pitching the elite tier, but settled on the upper-mid package, leaving the agency an easy exit strategy to terminate his membership whenever necessary.

Gyuhan casually swiped a premium black card that was rarely seen in the wild. Watching the transaction clear, the consultant nodded inwardly.

Truly, no one in this world is perfect. Here stood a man who was exceptionally wealthy, tall, and handsome, yet beneath his clothes lay a full back of irezumi tattoos, and carrying on a conversation with him made one feel progressively dumber by the second. Surely, somewhere out there, a woman with very specific tastes existed just for him.

“You really should have come back to see me sooner,” she remarked, a trace of genuine pity slipping into her voice. At his age, finding a willing partner among mid-thirties clientele was an uphill battle.

Gyuhan asked back, “You kicked me out when I came early.”

Ah. Right. I did.

The consultant offered a polite, shameless nod.

Sitting behind the wheel of his car on the drive home, Gyuhan replayed past memories in an earnest effort to reflect on his shortcomings.

Did I really talk about Gong Jio that much?

In hindsight, he supposed there was plenty of room to mistake Gong Jio for a woman. The name Jio alone sounded delicate and pretty enough to belong to a woman.

“Those noonas must have thought I was an absolute piece of trash.”

Gyuhan sighed, rapping his knuckles against the steering wheel. He had been careless with his words. He should have made it crystal clear from the start that Jio was a fellow guy with the exact same equipment between his legs. Would that have changed his current situation?

Then again, he was fairly certain he had clarified Jio’s gender on several occasions. Tilting his head, a specific memory surfaced from a date after he had explicitly mentioned that Jio was a guy. “It feels like we’re on a date with three people.”

As she chuckled, Gyuhan had simply laughed along—“Ha-ha-ha!”—assuming everything was going splendidly because she had enjoyed every spot he took her to. Her enthusiastic reactions to the dishes he confidently ordered had been phenomenal, prompting him to proudly boast that his friend had recommended the entire menu, praising Jio for his great taste as a bona fide “flavor doctor.” Had using the term “flavor doctor” instead of “gourmet” been the problem? He genuinely had not been able to recall the word gourmet at the time.

“Normally, if a guy has great friends, shouldn’t people assume he’s a great guy too?”

Having never in his life written an error-correction notebook for schoolwork, Gyuhan remained utterly incapable of processing the consultant’s feedback, despite her clear explanation.

Lost in thought, his car came to a halt in an entry lane. Wondering why the barrier gate refused to lift, realization finally struck him.

“Ah, shit. Came to the wrong place.”

Driven purely by muscle memory, he had steered toward Gong Jio’s apartment complex the moment evening fell, as if guided by some primal homing instinct.

Just as he shifted into reverse, two other vehicles pulled up behind him. It being a Friday night, residents had likely invited plenty of outside guests.

Clicking his tongue, Gyuhan pressed the call button on the intercom. The ringing tone abruptly cut off. Before Jio could even ask who was there, Gyuhan bellowed into the speaker, “Jio-ya! It’s me, Gyuhan!”

What is he, an elementary schooler?

That was what Gong Jio often thought whenever he heard Gyuhan’s booming voice over the intercom.

“It’s Gyuhan! Open the door!”

It truly was no different from a grade-schooler shouting at his buddy’s front door.

“Hey! There’s a line behind me! Hurry up!”

Click.

The connection died without a word. Did he get petty and refuse to open the gate? That’s going to be a problem.

Just as Gyuhan turned on his hazard lights and braced to back out, the barrier gate ascended. Grinning, he steered his car down into the underground parking garage.

To Gyuhan, Gong Jio’s home was practically his own second residence. No matter where Jio moved or where he lived, the address might change, but Gyuhan’s habit of loitering around remained an eternal constant.

This current apartment was no exception, though circumstances had kept him away recently. He had not driven with a wandering mind lately—mostly because he was busy singing along at the top of his lungs—so he had not dropped by on autopilot until tonight.

“It’s been a while. Big bro ought to buy delicious food for our Jio so he cheers up.”

Now that he had made it inside, this was the perfect opportunity for reconciliation, and he was determined to clear the air before leaving tonight. To ensure a smooth beginning, he placed an order for bossam, reasoning that succulent, tender pork was far superior to dry chicken breast.

“Damn, my mouth’s watering already.”

Licking his lips, Gyuhan finalized the order. Catching the lobby door just as another resident entered the same building and entrance line, he quickly slipped in behind them, feeling as though luck were on his side.

However, it took less than ten minutes for that optimism to shatter completely.

“Why did you come in?”

“You buzzed me in!”

“I sent you a text telling you to turn right around and leave.”

“Ah. Did you?”

Scratching his head, Gyuhan checked his phone. True to Jio’s words, a message sat unread on the screen.

❮0go⠇
—Don’t even think about crawling in here. Turn around and get lost.

“I just saw it now.”

Heh. Chuckling, Gyuhan attempted to play it off with an easygoing grin.

That genial, broad smile—a weapon that worked a hundred times out of a hundred on everyone else, especially the older merchants at the traditional market—held zero power over Gong Jio. Though people had often half-jokingly praised him, saying he should go run an election campaign, and he had immediately adopted it as his signature charm, it had never once worked on Gong Jio. If anything, it seemed to stoke his irritation.

True to form, a heavy hand clamped onto Gyuhan’s shoulder and forcibly spun him around. Attached to Gong Jio were hands that defied his refined visage—massive, rough, and absurdly powerful.

“Whoa, hey?!”

“Get out.”

“Hey, hold on!”

Panicking, Gyuhan frantically tapped at his phone screen, his thick fingers fumbling over the glass. Cursing under his breath, he finally pulled up the order confirmation and thrust the screen in front of Jio’s nose.

“I ordered bossam!”

“So?”

“Th-Three whole servings! Garlic bossam! You hate wasting food!”

“I bought a food waste disposer.”

“Wh-When?!”

“Two months ago.”

“Fuck, no wonder you stopped calling me over! Wait a second… Does that mean I was your food waste disposer?!”

While Gyuhan reeled from that sudden epiphany, Jio shoved him squarely out into the hallway.

Clang.

With a sharp mechanical clatter, the door double-locked.

Is he really taking it this far? It was both dumbfounding and offensive. Did he think Gyuhan had no pride?

“If I’m not around, you’re the one who doesn’t have a single damn friend, not me!”

Flipping an arm-bent middle gesture toward the door with an aggrieved “Screw this!”, Gyuhan turned on his heel.

Fuming, he climbed back into his car. Sinking deep into the Nappa leather seat, he clamped his teeth around an unlit cigarette, chewing on the filter.

Before long, the rhythm of his chewing slowed. Scratching his scalp vigorously, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and pecked out a text, pressing one character at a time.

❮0go⠇

Why are you so damn pissed off? Let’s just talk it out like men and settle this, or just hit me once if you want. At least tell me why. You know I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed.

He waited a moment until a vibration buzzed.

“Oh!”

His face lit up with anticipation, only to collapse in bitter disappointment. The cause of the vibration was not a reply from Gong Jio, but a notification alerting him that his food delivery was arriving shortly.

“Dammit all.”

Just as he went to slide the phone back into his pocket, it vibrated again. Thinking he would lose his temper if it turned out to be another trivial notification, he checked the screen, only to find it really was Gong Jio. Gong Jio. 0. g, o. Seeing the contact name he had written out phonetically with numbers and English letters, Gyuhan grinned.

“Take a punch, find out the reason, and split the bossam over soju. Perfect plan.”

Unfortunately, reality did not follow Gyuhan’s simplistic blueprints.

Gong Jio concluded his reply in a single sentence.

❮0go⠇

—I know you’re an idiot.

That was the absolute final straw.

Resolved to at least claim the bossam he had paid for, Gyuhan waited for the motorcycle to arrive.

The delivery arrived. Gyuhan bounded out of his car, reaching the lobby entrance practically at the exact same moment the courier pressed the intercom buzzer.

“Excuse me! That’s my order. You can just hand it to me.”

“Pardon?”

The delivery courier blinked, perhaps having had earbuds plugged in. Earbuds while riding a motorcycle? Is he out of his mind? Gyuhan clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Look, how can you wear earphones while riding a bike? You’ll end up in the afterlife in a split second. I’m telling you this for your own good because you look like a younger brother, so take it to heart. Anyway, that bossam is mine, so pass it over.”

“Which unit are you?”

“I’ll show you the order screen. Just a sec.”

As Gyuhan tapped through his phone to pull up the app and check the order details, the lobby glass door clicked open.

“Give it to me,” a cold voice cut in. “It’s for my place.”

Standing in the doorway was the tenant himself, Gong Jio.

In the apartment complex’s designated smoking area. Gyuhan had argued that since they were outside, they should share a smoke before heading up, while Jio had countered that though they could smoke, Gyuhan was under no circumstances stepping foot inside. After their bickering, they had stepped out to settle on their only common ground and have a smoke first.

“Are you really so petty that you had to take the food for yourself?”

“Better than you, who kicked me out of the apartment and rushed all the way down just in case I took it.”

Gyuhan scoffed, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

Tapping the ash from his cigarette beside him, Jio replied evenly, “It’s because I grew up poor. Never had enough to eat.”

That was a foul.

Even though Gyuhan knew perfectly well that Jio was deliberately tossing out words he didn’t mean, he fell for the guilt trip every single time. No, it wasn’t even about falling for it. What if, just once, he actually meant it? That would make Gyuhan an absolute piece of garbage.

Giving in once again, Gyuhan muttered through clenched teeth in pure indignation, “…That’s why I was going to take the food and come back up. Huh?”

Jio brought the cigarette to his lips with a faint smirk. His languid gaze slowly roved over Gyuhan. It was the kind of look that blurred the line between undressing someone to devour them and stripping them bare with visual teasing—both of the exact same flavor—yet Gyuhan failed to notice the peculiar gaze. As always. No, even if he had caught it, would he have had the wits to decipher it? Jio lit a second cigarette.

“You really need to rein in that temper of yours. I was, huh? I was going to take the bossam and leave, but then I remembered the state of your place and was planning to head back up.”

While pulling up the order page for the delivery driver earlier, Gyuhan’s mind had flashed to the recycling clustered around Jio’s front door. A significant portion consisted of bottles and cans, including energy drinks, glucose supplements, and protein shakes—the kind of liquid substitutes busy people consumed to hypnotize themselves into believing they had had a proper meal.

To Gyuhan, who firmly believed that a man needed at least one hearty Korean meal featuring a bowl of steaming white rice every single day, seeing such neglect was an unbearable sight. In fact, the plastic bag currently wafting a rich garlic aroma in his hand contained an extra bowl of rice he had deliberately added to the order. Heartily.

“So.”

Eager to split the food before it went cold, and more than anything, wanting to feed his friend, Gyuhan adjusted his grip on the bag and broached the topic, “Are you really not going to tell me? Why you’re so pissed off… I genuinely don’t know.”

“To be honest, I gave it some thought.”

Jio stubbed out his cigarette. Unlike his opening words, he struggled to continue.

“I think I’ve been acting childish. If I don’t tell you, there’s no way you’d know. Even when I do tell you, you’re the kind of guy who still doesn’t get it.”

“Hmm?”

“My understanding of that was lacking. I apologize.”

“Right… Hey, if you explain it, I’ll understand. What is it? Did I frustrate you again? Or did I misspeak?”

“I guess I felt a sense of betrayal. Not that you actually broke a promise, and whether I feel betrayed or not, it’s not like you’d ever notice. You were just trying to uphold your own creed to… Fuck. Can we please drop this? I haven’t sorted through my feelings yet. Ah. It’s getting really hard to hold back, seriously…”

Having spoken relatively calmly, Jio fiercely furrowed his brows and raked a hand through his hair. Then, as if seized by an overwhelming urge for nicotine, he glanced at his cigarette pack, found it empty, and crushed it violently in his fist. Thrown off by his friend’s erratic, complete flip in attitude, Gyuhan fell silent.

Gong Jio was truly never like this. Indifferent to this, indifferent to that, never showing large emotional swings, operating like a machine that produced outputs based strictly on input values. Facing this unfamiliar side of his longtime friend, Gyuhan felt uneasy and constantly on edge.

Jio closed his eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. Gyuhan glanced at the pale skin exposed beneath Jio’s relaxed V-neck. Wait, he has a mole on his chest. Ever since Jio had stopped joining him at the sauna years ago, Gyuhan had not seen his friend’s bare body since they reached adulthood. Had it grown as he got older, or had it always been there? If it developed as he grew, getting it checked during a health screening seemed wise. When is our company health checkup scheduled this year again?

“Hey, Jio-ya. On your chest, you’ve got—“

“I like you.”

Gyuhan exhaled his final plume of smoke and stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray. Then, he poked the mole on Jio’s chest with his fingertip. Their voices overlapped, but Gyuhan heard Jio’s words with crystal clarity. Stunned by the sudden direct fastball, Gyuhan blinked, broke into a broad, bashful smile, and gave Jio’s shoulder a playful punch with his fist.

“You bastard… Why the hell are you putting that into words suddenly…? Of course I like you too, man.”

He answered with bashful pride.

Then, flushed with sheepishness, awkward warmth, and a tender swell of affection, he erased the physical distance in an instant, leaning in close to Jio with genuine concern. “By the way, did you always have a mole here or not? When was the last time we went to the public bath together—our sophomore year of high school?”

Cha Gyuhan, who had been ducking his head to inspect Jio’s chest, looked up to ask his question. And what met his eyes was an expression he had truly, genuinely, without exaggeration, never seen before in his life.

“Ah!”

What was with that terrifying look? What kind of face could make him swallow hard without even realizing it?

Yet before Gyuhan could grasp why he had reacted that way—much less find an answer—a massive impact tore a short groan from his lips.

Only after the shockwave rippled all the way down to the tips of his toes did his brain register what had happened. By then, his head had already snapped to the side. Gyuhan nearly dropped the bossam, barely catching it in time.

“Hey, are you out of your fucking mind?! Ah, shit. I almost spilled the meat! There’s sauce in here!”

He had been punched in the face out of nowhere. Clenching his teeth by reflex had saved him from worse, but his skull still rattled. Blinking rapidly to clear his blurred vision, Gyuhan bellowed in pure outrage and sheer disbelief, “Everything was fine, so what the hell are you flipping out for suddenly?!”

Apathetic about this, indifferent about that.

It was an accurate description. People generally characterized Gong Jio that way, and in Gyuhan’s view, Jio indeed acted like that in front of others. But before him—when the two of them were completely alone—more often than not, he was nothing like that. Putting all rumors of him being the Legal Team’s AI or a living corporate billboard to shame, in front of Cha Gyuhan, Gong Jio… never held back. Probably.

“Agh, shit.”

Gyuhan shook his head violently to clear the fog, locking eyes with his opponent as his vision snapped back. By then, Jio was already cocking his fist again. Gyuhan ducked sideways with a swift jerk, dodging the flying punch. How many sparring bouts had they shared over the years? Having brawled together on countless occasions, Gyuhan was well-acquainted with Jio’s fighting patterns.

Even as Gyuhan dodged his strike, Jio muttered with chilling composure, “Yeah. I am crazy. Because of you.”

Taken in isolation, the line might have sounded like something ripped straight out of a sweeping melodrama.

Here, however, it was a cold, objective proposition.

Gong Jio was crazy. Because of Cha Gyuhan.

Did it still sound romantic?

Romance, after all, was a genre that only sparked when the feelings were mutual; otherwise…

“Has this bastard completely lost his marbles from popping nothing but pills?”

Gyuhan held back no longer. When was the last time they had gone at it like this? He thought they had spent quite some time interacting as mature, civilized adults since then. The last brawl had surely started over something utterly childish too…

No, the reason didn’t matter. It was ancient history, long forgotten.

Focusing entirely on balling his fist, Gyuhan forgot he was still clutching the precious garlic bossam in his hand. The tightly bundled plastic package, wrapped with meticulous care by the restaurant owner, took turns slamming against Jio’s shoulder and the back of Gyuhan’s own hand.

“I told—you—to stop popping pills—and eat proper food!”

“You—go take some meds. Seriously. Just take some.”

Thud!

Thud!

The dull impacts of flesh striking flesh echoed in rhythmic harmony. Face, shoulders, ribs, shins, thighs—nothing was spared.

“You fu— you stingy bastard! Strong as fuck, too!”

Before long, Gyuhan completely forgot why they had started throwing hands in the first place, reduced to howling in grievance simply because Jio had kicked him in the shin.

It didn’t take long for the police, who happened to be patrolling the neighborhood, to arrive on the scene with remarkable speed following a resident’s emergency report. The two men, locked in full combat stances and trading heavy blows, were pried apart and shoved into the backseats of separate patrol cars.

✦ ✦ ✦