Chapter 6

“Why are two grown men brawling in the street? Settle your differences with words.”

Gong Jio and Cha Gyuhan sat angled forty-five degrees away from each other. An officer who had just finished brushing his teeth walked in and shouted, “Who ordered garlic bossam? You should’ve said something before I brushed my teeth!” while a drunk sprawled in the corner mumbled, “Then give me another somaek,” but not a single soul answered either of them.

Gyuhan, the purchaser of the bossam and a newly minted guest of the precinct, clutched the plastic bag with a sullen scowl. Despite his formidable durability, one side of his face and the crook of his neck were mottled red. Bruises would form soon enough. Shifting in his seat, Gyuhan protested, “No, there was nothing to talk about, he just socked me out of nowhere! I’m the victim here!”

At that, Jio silently straightened his posture as well, turning to face the officer. Glancing at his battered face, the officer muttered under his breath, “Looks to me like you gentlemen beat each other up pretty evenly.”

While a victim’s innocence shouldn’t be judged solely by visible surface wounds, the two hulking, broad-shouldered men appeared to have traded roughly equal amounts of damage in friendly solidarity.

“The one who threw the first punch should get punished more, shouldn’t he? Isn’t that what the law says? I want to go strictly by the book.”

Gyuhan rapped his knuckles on the desk, arguing his case. The officer nodded along with a string of yes, yes, then posed a question.

The other man seemed far more reasonable. Having dealt with countless personalities over many years on the force, the officer glanced at Gong Jio and probed gently.

“If you want to go by the book… does that mean you’ll be retaining legal counsel? Sir, are you hiring an attorney? If you have representation, feel free to call them. What about you, sir? You hiring one too?”

Meeting that look—one practically begging them not to complicate things and wrap it up neatly—Jio calmly raised a hand.

“I am. A attorney.”

“Ah, you’re an attorney yourself?”

“That’s true too. But him.”

Jio jerked his chin toward Gyuhan.

“I’m his attorney.”

The officer, typing away at his keyboard, struck the Enter key with a sharp clack, then shifted dead, unamused eyes between Gyuhan and Jio.

“Are you playing games with me right now?”

Both Jio and Gyuhan were subjected to breathalyzer tests. Naturally, the results came back clean. The two men were dismissed with an official reprimand and walked out of the police station clutching their stone-cold garlic bossam. Grown adults shouldn’t be causing such trouble, how could you do this without a drop of alcohol in your systems, hurry home, eat your meal, and make up. Minus the part about booze, the lecture was delivered in virtually the exact same tone as being scolded in the teachers’ lounge back in school.

An awkward tension hung in the air.

“I’m going to buy some cigarettes.”

Jio broke the silence. For a heavy chain-smoker like Jio, enduring this long was an impressive feat in itself. Gyuhan called after his retreating back as he headed toward a convenience store, “Should I wait?!”

“…”

“I’m waiting, then?!”

“Do whatever you want.”

Though the reply was curt and dismissive, Gyuhan grinned with satisfaction. Having completely forgotten the earful they had just received about two grown men acting like delinquents, he was already content that Jio’s tone had returned to the familiar cadence he knew.

“Skipping meals to check into the grave early, smoking like a chimney, loves his booze…”

Gyuhan clicked his tongue even while chuckling. As Gyuhan loitered aimlessly in the middle of the sidewalk, smiling to himself, pedestrians gave him a wide berth. Among them, a few caught sight of Gyuhan’s striking face and unconsciously flashed curious, interested smiles, but he remained completely oblivious.

Just as a hesitant passerby seemed to make up their mind and turned back around, Jio stepped out of the convenience store.

Jio instantly spotted Gyuhan and the pedestrian behind him, who wore a resolute expression.

“Hey!”

“Huh?”

“The gentleman wants to pass. Make way.”

The scene carried the unmistakable air of a mobster flick—the kind where a thug barks, “A lady’s trying to get through, make way”—yet neither Jio who uttered it nor Gyuhan who bowed saying, “Ah, my bad, so sorry,” possessed ordinary faces, making the encounter far from unpleasant. Even so, the pedestrian had no choice but to awkwardly continue along their original path. The timing was ruined, and their courage had dissolved into thin air.

“Sorry about that. Smells like garlic, doesn’t it?”

As Gyuhan flashed a broad grin and bantered casually, Jio stepped up beside him and lit a cigarette. With that single accessory, the entire vibe instantly took on the delinquent, shady edge of a street hoodlum. The pedestrian turned their head away and vanished briskly down the street.

“Jio-ya. The bossam is stone-cold.”

“Did you actually intend to eat that? After swinging it around like a weapon?”

Jio’s voice dropped low, irritated by the admiring look directed at Gyuhan that Gyuhan himself had failed to register. Was the failure to catch that subtle shift due to the pungent aroma of garlic sauce? Gyuhan peered inside the bag.

“Nah. The owner packed it brilliantly. We’ll just separate it cleanly, and it should be good to go.”

“…”

“Let’s eat at your place. Huh?”

Their long friendship had forged an unspoken rule. If you beat each other up, no whining, no lingering grudges. The fact that it never needed to be spoken aloud was likely due to Gyuhan’s inherently easygoing nature in the first place.

Gyuhan threw an arm around Jio’s shoulders with a goofy grin. Jio chewed on the filter of his cigarette before exhaling a deep, resigned sigh.

When someone lacked tact, how could they possibly possess keen perception?

While nothing had leaked outside the plastic bag, the contents inside were thoroughly tossed and jumbled into a chaotic mess. Jio, who had no appetite to begin with, emptied an entire bottle of water in a single gulp, crushed the plastic bottle in his fist, and spoke, “Hopeless.”

“Ah, shit. No it’s not. We just have to separate it out.”

“I have no appetite. Going to the police station for the first time in years killed whatever was left of it.”

“Let me sort it out.”

Gyuhan rummaged around and grabbed a pair of chopsticks as if he were in his own home. Watching him foolishly hunching his towering frame over the floor to meticulously separate the side dishes, meat, and sauce one by one instead of sitting on a chair, Jio pulled out another bottle of water.

“Why go through all that trouble?”

“I promised to do the review event.”

“You don’t need a photo.”

“Still.”

Gyuhan was as stubborn as he was simple-minded, and contrary to his rough exterior, he kept every promise he made without exception. If he was this devoted to a trivial review event that most people simply checked off, how scrupulously would he adhere to promises made to himself? His lack of a single romantic relationship up to this point was proof enough. Shattering his convictions would require something Gyuhan valued more than his own life or his very self. Yet for a man who loved and cherished nearly everything with equal, unreserved warmth, could such an extraordinary thing even exist?

His throat burned. Jio sipped his water as he walked over to Gyuhan’s side. The exposed nape of Gyuhan’s neck came into view. Forgetting the bossam and everything else, Jio fixed his gaze on that single spot, then reached out to graze the strands of hair brushing the back of Gyuhan’s neck.

“Whoa! What are you doing! This hyung is trying to concentrate here!”

At the slightest contact, Gyuhan jumped out of his skin, squirming furiously and rubbing the back of his neck. His face flushed bright crimson in an instant. Having observed his boss—Gyuhan’s father—Jio was well aware that the Cha men, beginning with the patriarch, were constitutionally prone to blushing easily. And while he couldn’t speak for the father or the younger brother, he knew Gyuhan was an exceptionally sensitive, ticklish type.

The plastic bottle crumpled under the force of Jio’s grip. The water spilled over, splashing across Jio’s bare chest.

“Hey. I told you to stop crushing plastic bottles like that.”

Jio offered no response. Gyuhan, understanding to some degree why he acted that way, pressed the matter no further.

“I’m going to shower. Clean up, write your review, do whatever you want.”

“I was going to, even without you telling me.” Gyuhan pulled out a dining chair and finally sat down properly.

After glaring intently at Gyuhan’s hunched back as he resumed sorting the meal piece by piece, Jio turned and headed for the bathroom.

Not long after Jio disappeared inside, Gyuhan managed to arrange the bossam into a respectable presentation. He snapped a photo and submitted his late review for the event.

Haven’t eaten it yet, but the aroma is insane! If it’s delicious, I’ll definitely order again!

Jio had not emerged yet. Gyuhan looked around the apartment, then pushed himself up upon noticing a potted plant in the living room. It was a new plant he hadn’t seen before. He could vividly picture Jio agonizing over the decision before finally bringing it home.

“It’s just artificial greenery anyway.”

Shaking his head at Jio’s peculiar hobby, Gyuhan walked over and touched the leaves. Nowadays, fake plants were crafted with such precision it was hard to tell them apart from real foliage. Noticing a thin film of dust, he picked up a microfiber cloth and wiped the leaves down one by one.

Gong Jio disliked real, living plants—just as he disliked water purifiers.

The lingering hurt Gyuhan had felt over Jio’s aloof attitude over the past few months melted away the moment that realization crossed his mind. Gyuhan’s expression softened into a bittersweet, complicated stillness.

His large hands were rough from never using hand cream, littered with small scars born of his reckless, careless nature. Yet those rugged hands wiped down the artificial leaves with such tender, meticulous care that even the synthetic foliage seemed on the verge of blooming to life under his devoted touch.

Jio approached from behind. Fully immersed in his task, Gyuhan failed to notice his presence.

“Don’t wipe it. Did you come to my place to do housework?”

“Make some noise when you walk, would you?”

Gyuhan wasn’t particularly startled. In fact, he didn’t even turn around. Even after finishing the last leaf, standing up, and turning to find Jio standing half-naked before him, his composure remained unshaken.

“Let’s eat now.”

“…”

Water droplets dripped from the tips of Jio’s damp hair. Looking at Gyuhan with a languid gaze, Jio spoke. “Do men’s bodies turn you on?”

“What?”

“What part gets you hard? Even if you don’t fancy men, you must have preferences. It’s not like you’d take just anything.”

What began as a casual question took on a subtly dark, predatory undertone toward the end.

Gyuhan scratched his cheek. “As long as they don’t look like they’ve been sleeping around and look clean, that was enough for me.”

“That’s all?” Jio asked, radiating the crisp, clean scent of body wash. “Just that?”

“Then what else am I supposed to look for? If it looks decent, that’s plenty. A massive beer gut, ugly—naturally I’d hate that. What preferences? Why bother having preferences for bastards I’ll never have feelings for in the first place?”

“Then what about size? Curvature, angle, rigidity—things like that?”

Why is he asking all this? Gyuhan’s face flushed red once more. Yet because Jio asked such explicit questions with an utterly deadpan expression, it never occurred to Gyuhan that Jio might harbor an ulterior motive. I don’t love talking about it, but let’s just write it off as locker room sex talk between guys.

“I haven’t taken it in enough times to classify all that…”

And so Gyuhan answered honestly.

The corners of Jio’s mouth tightened for a split second, then flipped like the turn of a palm into a radiant grin. It was a dazzlingly bright smile.

“Right. Got it.”

“Then let’s eat…”

His attempt to squeeze past Jio to make sure his friend finally ate a proper meal ended in failure. Jio leaned forward into his space.

“Excuse me for a second.”

As Jio stepped closer, Gyuhan was forced backward. While Jio very slowly reached for the folded microfiber cloth Gyuhan had set down, the space between them narrowed until not even a sheet of paper could have slipped between their bodies. Gyuhan was compelled, entirely against his will, to view Jio’s sharp jaw, throat, and bare chest from point-blank range.

Jio slowly pulled back.

“To wash it.”

Jio waved the cloth as if demonstrating his innocent purpose. Gyuhan’s gaze remained fixed on Jio’s bare chest. After staring intently at it for a long beat, he raised his head.

“Jio-ya.”

“What.”

“You…”

As if the words caught in his throat, Gyuhan swallowed lightly. Jio fixated on the heavy bob of Gyuhan’s Adam’s apple with unblinking intensity.

Finally, Gyuhan’s lips parted.

“Did you always have that mole? I asked earlier, but you didn’t hear me. If it wasn’t there before, maybe during your next health checkup you should…”

“I always had it.”

Jio cut him off with razor-sharp finality. His expression hardened, snapping back to his usual dead-eyed look. Handsome features paired with cold, lifeless eyes—ironically, that contrast had always defined Jio’s signature allure, but right now, the light in his eyes had been snuffed out purely by his own exasperation.

“I always had it, so let’s just eat the damn food. Fuck… your bullshit won’t stop until we eat.”

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