Chapter 9

As the weeks passed, talking with Je-hee grew steadily more natural—to the point where they could even trade the occasional quiet joke. One thing, however, refused to become ordinary no matter how often they met: Je-hee’s face. Si-woon had thought the man striking from their very first encounter, and familiarity only made looking at him more hazardous.

“Is it the winter air…?” he murmured under his breath after pulling into the apartment complex parking lot past two in the morning.

In the cold season, Je-hee’s pale skin looked almost porcelain under the dashboard lights, accentuating the clean bridge of his nose and the dark sweep of his eyelashes. Whenever Si-woon caught himself stealing glances at the sleeping man at red lights, a wave of self-reproach followed. Who am I to be looking at a client like this? Nothing improper had ever passed between them, yet his own wandering thoughts made him feel like a scoundrel. Is this what people mean by being bewitched? No other word accounted for why he was still sitting here with the engine idling instead of waking his passenger and heading home to bed.

“Mmm…”

“…!”

As Je-hee stirred in his seat, Si-woon straightened abruptly, his heart thumping as though he had been caught red-handed. Clearing his throat, he schooled his expression. “We’ve arrived, Je-hee-ssi.”

Blinking awake, Je-hee turned toward him, his eyes curving into a drowsy smile. “Are you planning to ride a shared bike home again tonight?” By now, he knew even that much about Si-woon’s routine.

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you exhausted?”

Exhausted? Of course he was. Between his day job and his late-night calls, exhaustion was his permanent state—but a driver who paid for a sauna or a motel every time a shift ran past two in the morning would have very little left of his earnings. Pedaling twenty minutes through the cold was the only sensible choice.

“…Would you like to sleep here tonight?” Je-hee asked quietly.

“Pardon?” Si-woon stared at him, uncertain he had heard right.

His shock must have been written plainly across his face, because Je-hee’s expression tightened at once, as if he thought Si-woon had misconstrued a considerate offer as something untoward. No, that isn’t what I meant— Si-woon simply hadn’t imagined a client would invite his designated driver to spend the night in his apartment.

“I’m not going to try anything strange,” Je-hee added, a rare edge of stiffness entering his voice.

Understanding why the man looked half-offended, Si-woon scrambled to repair the misunderstanding—just as he had the dawn Je-hee first asked for his phone number. “Ah, no—I didn’t think that at all…” Yet even as he spoke, he didn’t know how to accept such a favor. Spending the night in a client’s home crossed every professional boundary he knew.

“Riding a bicycle along dark roads at this hour is dangerous,” Je-hee said, his tone softening again.

“Still, I’d feel terrible imposing on you this late…”

“I’m saying it because I’d worry. How do you think I’d feel if you got into an accident on the way home?”

“…”

“If you stay here, you can get at least an extra hour of sleep before work tomorrow, right? Hm?”

Put like that, Si-woon found it impossible to keep refusing. His limbs were leaden with fatigue, and if he insisted on pedaling home through the freezing dark, Je-hee looked ready to lose sleep worrying about him. Just for tonight, then. Perhaps accepting the kindness gracefully was better than dragging out a stubborn refusal in the parking lot. “Then… thank you. I’ll take you up on it.”

Is this really okay? His mind remained unsettled even as he locked the car and followed Je-hee toward the elevator.

* * *

“Sorry to intrude so late,” Si-woon murmured at the front door.

“I live alone, so please make yourself comfortable.” Even at Je-hee’s light reassurance, Si-woon stepped into the foyer as cautiously as if he were walking on thin ice, glancing down the quiet hallway as though half-expecting someone else to emerge.

“I lived with my parents until a few years ago, before they relocated to the countryside for work,” Je-hee explained, gesturing toward the hall door. “You can use the main bathroom right there. There’s another one inside my bedroom, so you don’t need to feel rushed.”

“…All right.” As Si-woon gave a slow nod, the sheer weight of his fatigue seemed to dull some of his stiffness.

“I’ll get the bedding ready for you,” Je-hee said, showing him into the spare room before leaving him to wash up.

Much as he had wanted Si-woon under his roof, Je-hee knew better than to crowd him. Coaxing the man upstairs had been bold enough for one night; the least he could do now was give his guest breathing room. While the shower began to run in the hall bathroom, Je-hee laid out fresh sheets in the guest room, set a glass of lukewarm water on the nightstand within easy reach, and switched on the underfloor heating.

“Ah.” Pausing with his hand on the thermostat dial, he glanced at the thick goose-down duvet on the bed. Remembering how easily Si-woon overheated in the car, he dialed the guest-room temperature down a couple of degrees cooler than his own bedroom so the man wouldn’t wake up sweating.

“…”

Once everything was in order, Je-hee retreated into his own bedroom and shut the door with a soft click, pressing both palms to his burning cheeks. He’s actually here. Seo Si-woon was right down the hall, inside the private space where Je-hee spent his solitary mornings and nights. That man is dangerous. The thought was laughable—Je-hee had been the one to wheedle him into coming upstairs while Si-woon had merely relented out of exhaustion, and yet here he was blaming his unsuspecting guest for the state of his pulse.

Still, how can he trust someone this easily? What if I really did have ulterior motives? Shouldn’t he be a little more on guard? Then again, why would Si-woon feel physically threatened by a man he could easily overpower with one arm? Si-woon had an inch or two of height on him and a broader, more solid frame hardened by years of physical work.

“Maybe I should put more hours in at the gym,” Je-hee muttered to the dark bedroom, before letting out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. As if I’ll ever get the chance to show off for him anyway. Shaking his head at how far his imagination was running ahead, he climbed under his covers and forced his eyes shut. If he wanted to survive his own workday tomorrow, he needed to sleep.

* * *

“Si-woon-ssi? Are you still asleep?”

Having woken earlier than his alarm the next morning, Je-hee stood outside the closed guest-room door and knocked softly. When a second knock brought no answer, he hesitated a beat before easing the door open.

“He’s already gone.”

The room stood empty, just as he had half-feared. Through the haze of early dawn, he vaguely recalled the faint chime of the front door lock, though he had no idea what hour Si-woon had slipped out. Given where the man’s office was located, he probably had to leave by six at the latest.

“What a shame…” Knowing it made sense didn’t make the empty room any less disappointing. I thought we might at least share a cup of coffee or say goodbye before he left. For once, he almost resented Si-woon’s relentless diligence. On the neatly made bed lay the spare pajamas Je-hee had lent him, folded into a crisp, immaculate square—leaving not a single wrinkle behind to prove he had ever been there.

Bzzz.

[Seo Si-woon has sent a mobile gift voucher.]
—Thanks to you, I was able to rest really well last night.
—Thank you.

Standing in the doorway searching for some trace of his vanished guest, Je-hee drew in a sharp breath as his phone screen lit up. The two short lines were so unadorned and earnest that he could hear Si-woon’s low voice speaking them aloud.

“Peppermint tea…”

The voucher was for a box of the exact peppermint tea Je-hee had praised at the café weeks ago. He remembered. That small, unmistakable proof that their conversations stayed with Si-woon, too, sent a wave of warmth surging through Je-hee’s chest wildly out of proportion to the price of the gift.

“I’m in serious trouble…” Pressing both hands over his hot face in the quiet guest room, Je-hee realized that if he had thought he was falling hard before, he had sorely underestimated how deep he already was. How was anyone supposed to guard his heart against a man whose kindness was this quiet and this devastating?

* * *

“Would you like to stay over again tonight?” Je-hee asked a couple of weeks later as Si-woon switched off the engine and reached for the door handle.

Glancing across the console, Si-woon noticed how still Je-hee’s expression had gone—neither smiling nor frowning, just waiting fixedly for his answer. Is he nervous? Yes, there was no mistaking the tension in the man’s jaw.

Back in high school, a few girls had confessed their feelings to Si-woon, though that had been well over a decade ago. With his family struggling to make ends meet at the time, dating had felt like an unthinkable luxury, and since entering the workforce he had barely had enough hours in the day to sleep, let alone court anyone. Whenever coworkers offered to set him up on blind dates, he turned them down without a second thought.

“…Would you rather not?” Je-hee added quietly when the pause stretched.

Perhaps his own lack of experience was why Je-hee’s attentiveness unsettled him so much. Everything the man did seemed to go well beyond a client’s courtesy toward a regular driver—yet Si-woon had no experience with romantic interest between men, and every time he wondered whether Je-hee might have feelings for him, self-doubt rushed in to scold him. What if he’s simply a warm, generous person by nature and I’m flattering myself like an idiot?

“No. I’d like to stay.”

And yet, however many times he warned himself not to get carried away, the answer that came out of his mouth was always the same. Even if I’m misreading him and end up making a fool of myself, I don’t want fear to make the choice for me. Je-hee’s bright smiles over the smallest things, the quiet care with which he remembered Si-woon’s habits, the way his presence eased the constant knot in Si-woon’s chest—whatever name belonged to this bond, Si-woon wanted the courage to take one step closer.

“…”

A short while later, standing inside the guest room after his shower, Si-woon looked down at the freshly laundered pajamas folded in his arms. Are these Je-hee-ssi’s own pajamas? Unlike the crisp guest set he had worn the first night, these were a deep turquoise silk-blend that carried the faint, clean scent of Je-hee’s skin. Letting out a slow breath, he stared at the closed door across the room. He knew perfectly well that nothing was going to happen, yet his mind kept conjuring the image of that handle turning and Je-hee stepping inside.

“Si-woon-ssi?” Je-hee’s voice came softly from the hallway outside.

“…!” Nearly dropping the pajama top, Si-woon startled at how close and low the voice sounded through the wood. “Y-yes?”

“I’m turning in for the night. Sleep well.”

“…Good night, Je-hee-ssi.”

Only after Je-hee’s quiet footsteps receded down the hall toward the master bedroom did Si-woon let out the breath he had been holding. His heart was hammering against his ribs as though someone had reached into his chest and given it a sharp twist.

“What on earth was I expecting?” he whispered to the empty room.

He ought to have known better. He was stiff, unpolished, and poor at conversation; why would someone like Kwon Je-hee harbor romantic designs on him? Je-hee was simply a kindhearted client sharing his spare room with an overworked driver. That was the simplest, safest explanation.

“…”

And yet—is kindness really all there is to it? The lingering looks in the rearview mirror, the soft humming when they sat together, the unmistakable flicker of disappointment in Je-hee’s voice outside the door just now… Every small detail revived the fragile hope Si-woon kept trying to tamp down. Lately, he found himself thinking of Je-hee even in the middle of the workday. What am I going to do if this keeps up? Tonight, sleep felt very far away.

* * *