Chapter 48

Before they could reach the elevators, their path was blocked once more. Having brought no electronics whatsoever, Seoul passed cleanly through the scanner, but Jeong-ham had to unbuckle his wristwatch and hand it over. Waiting briefly for him to finish, they resumed their walk toward the elevator bank.

“Unbelievably paranoid, right?” Jeong-ham scoffed under his breath. “They removed all the security cameras today and jammed cellular signals inside the building, so we couldn’t even bring our tactical radios.”

“Why go so far for just a party?” Seoul asked, tilting his head in confusion.

At the wide-eyed question, Jeong-ham swallowed a breath, letting out a low hum as he calculated where best to begin.

In truth, bringing Geum Seoul here had been Gye Do-hyeop’s unilateral decision, made without the slightest prior discussion. Of course, it was only permissible because the assignment was hardly critical.

The host of tonight’s gathering was a male artist named Jin Go-hui, whose ostensible reason for celebrating was the successful conclusion of a major solo exhibition. Frequenting domestic and overseas circuits while throwing lavish parties under various pretexts, he was their primary target for the evening.

Outwardly a prominent artist, within the NSSA he was branded a scoundrel and a double-dealing bat. In reality, he served as a conduit enabling brokers and foreign intelligence operatives to interface with domestic VIPs. As a central nexus in an intricate espionage network, the agency had no choice but to keep him under close surveillance.

Jin Go-hui had once contented himself with quietly providing clandestine venues before disappearing into the background. Recent intelligence, however, showed that his behavior had changed after he began associating with Gwak Chun-young. Tonight’s mission was therefore simple: observe who approached him and what sort of plans were taking shape. There was no strict rule of engagement and no immediate order to arrest anyone. The danger was minimal—which was precisely why Gye Do-hyeop had decided Seoul could come along.

Jeong-ham offered a loose explanation, “They’re just people who like to play that way. This building has eight floors in total, but only the second through fourth floors are reserved for the party.”

“Understood.”

“Since they remodeled recently, there might be spots we haven’t mapped out yet…” Jeong-ham added, trailing off.

A quiet chime sounded.

Just as Jeong-ham was about to elaborate, the elevator doors parted before them.

Heavy bass thudded rhythmically.

The blaring music thudded with such concussive force that Seoul nearly clamped his hands over his ears. We came here for work, he reminded himself, locking his knees and straightening his spine to appear as natural as possible.

The corridor was already packed the moment they stepped out of the elevator. Partygoers leaned against the walls talking, lifted glasses to their mouths, or swayed restlessly to the music. How can anyone enjoy themselves when it’s loud enough to shake their skulls? Seoul wondered, scanning the crowd in bewilderment. When he startled at the sight of someone slumped carelessly in a dark corner, Jeong-ham caught his eye and gave a small, deliberate nod: don’t look.

“Could you look down at my cuffs for a second?” Jeong-ham murmured, lowering his arm.

Seoul carefully lowered his gaze. The cufflinks fastened to the edge of Jeong-ham’s sleeve glowed a vivid fluorescent green.

“They’re made from phosphorescent stone,” Jeong-ham explained in a hushed tone. “Electronics won’t work here, and we didn’t want you getting lost. All our operatives are wearing them, so if you ever lose sight of me, just look for someone with these cuffs.”

“Ah. Yes, I will.”

Though half-concealed beneath his jacket sleeve, they promised to be an immense help in an emergency. Though staying together is best… Swallowing nervously, Seoul hurried his steps to match Jeong-ham’s pace.

The music had devolved into sheer cacophony. Even the other guests seemed to find it deafening, pressing their lips directly to each other’s ears to converse. Tensing his frame to avoid brushing shoulders with the throng of strangers, Seoul tried his best to keep his distance from the swaying, unsteady bodies dancing and drinking around them.

Just as he had been told, nearly all the men wore identical masks over dark suits, making it virtually impossible to tell them apart. Seoul kept his gaze lowered to scan their sleeves, but spotting the cufflinks in the dim, chaotic light proved far more difficult than expected.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Jeong-ham called out.

When someone staggered toward them and nearly collapsed into Seoul, Jeong-ham shoved the man aside with a sharp motion, barely making himself heard above the deafening noise.

“You must never go to the other floors,” he shouted into Seoul’s ear. “Our job is monitoring what goes on away from public eyes.”

“Yes, I understand,” Seoul replied with an earnest nod.

Seoul nodded firmly. If he couldn’t be of help, he certainly had no intention of being a hindrance. No matter how loud it gets, I won’t even turn my head toward the stairs. Steeling his resolve, he slowly took in his surroundings.

Beyond the lounge, dotted with semicircular sofas and low cocktail tables, the area was partitioned off by a broad wall.

“According to the blueprints, there should be another room here,” Jeong-ham noted, observing Seoul’s curious gaze. “They must have put up a temporary partition.”

Jeong-ham noticed Seoul’s curiosity and offered the explanation without being asked. To be frank, Seoul’s presence had effectively added another assignment to his workload. Without him, Jeong-ham could have melted into the crowd and gathered useful intelligence instead of acting as a bodyguard. But everything, as usual, moved according to Gye Do-hyeop’s whims. Jeong-ham could only hope nothing happened while Seoul was under his watch.

“The Deputy Director should have arrived by now…” Jeong-ham muttered, scanning the floor. Mask or no mask, Gye Do-hyeop wasn’t the sort of man to leave Seoul in someone else’s care for long amid a party crawling with drunks and junkies. Yet though a mask couldn’t conceal Gye Do-hyeop’s towering stature, there was still no sign of him.

“Would you like something to drink?” Jeong-ham offered.

“Yes, please,” Seoul answered. “I’m thirsty.”

Even when fetching beverages, Jeong-ham stayed glued to Seoul’s side, a comfort to the youth adrift in such an alien environment. Accepting a slender champagne flute, Seoul brought it cautiously to his lips and took a sip. Just as Jeong-ham had described it—the mildest and sweetest drink available—it tasted pleasantly sugary, allowing him to take two consecutive sips.

If I had blasted music like this back in the old neighborhood instead of those ghost noises, maybe I could have driven everyone away just as easily. The idle thought wandered through Seoul’s mind while his gaze drifted. The lounge was enormous and packed to the edges. Couples clung to each other; dancers bounced wildly in loose-limbed revelry; nearby tables churned with animated conversation, while people lingering against walls, pillars, and the bar…

“Whoa…” Seoul whispered under his breath.

He clamped his mouth shut. Caught at the edge of his vision, two partygoers were locked in a passionate kiss. Catching sight of their intertwined tongues as one tilted the other’s neck, Seoul startled as though he had caught someone in a forbidden act, spinning around to face away. Yet in the opposite direction, others were doing the exact same thing.

Once Seoul became conscious of it, couples pressed flush against one another seemed to appear everywhere at once. He jerked his head away each time until he had practically turned a full circle, then finally gave up and fixed his gaze firmly on the floor. Unbelievable… right out in the open…

A gentle rustle brushed against him.

“Ah!”

At that exact moment, a searing heat pressed against his back. Feeling large hands encircle his waist, Seoul jumped in fright, nearly leaping out of his skin.

“Did you come alone?” a voice murmured huskily against his ear.

“Deputy Director?”

The voice whispered directly against his ear. Recognizing that deep baritone alongside the comforting, familiar scent drifting into his senses, Seoul tilted his head back. Yet he couldn’t turn around completely, held fast by Gye Do-hyeop’s unyielding grip around his waist.

Gye Do-hyeop scolded in a rough whisper, “Who’s this Deputy Director? I asked if you came alone.”

“No,” Seoul stammered, “I didn’t come alone.”

Gye Do-hyeop agreed with a low chuckle, “Right? No way in hell someone with that face came by himself.”

Seoul answered as tactfully as he could beneath the chilly cross-examination, yet the entire exchange left him bewildered. The man who had ordered him to come was now asking whether he had arrived alone, and stranger still, insisting that someone with his face could not possibly have entered without company.

“Which bastard did you come with?” Gye Do-hyeop demanded roughly. “Point him out so I can fuck you right in front of his eyes.”

“Who?” Seoul asked in confusion.

“Hurry up,” Gye Do-hyeop threatened in a low rumble. “Or I’ll go snap his fucking neck right now.”

“…The Deputy Director is going to snap your own neck?”

“Ah, fuck…” Gye Do-hyeop swore under his breath.

The crude little roleplay had failed so completely that Gye Do-hyeop burst out laughing. He reached for Seoul’s narrow waist. Startled by the sudden contact, Seoul sloshed champagne over the rim of his glass and down his wrist. Standing behind him, Gye Do-hyeop caught that wet wrist before the droplets could fall and dragged his tongue slowly upward, the hot, supple sweep passing over Seoul’s palm. Seoul nearly dropped the flute and hurriedly transferred it to his other hand, fingertips whitening around the stem.

“Have you no shame?” Gye Do-hyeop teased in a low drawl. “You stand out even with a mask on.”

“Me?”

“Who else, you little rabbit?” Gye Do-hyeop countered.

Apparently abandoning the roleplay, Gye Do-hyeop shifted without warning to a new nickname. Seoul glanced back and found him pressing his face against Seoul’s palm. The man wore the same style of mask, yet somehow looked flawless even with his eyes obscured. Seoul stared in fresh admiration until Gye Do-hyeop licked between his fingers and finally released his hand. The arm around Seoul’s waist remained, however, stroking the flat lower abdomen once more. His cufflinks glowed the same fluorescent green.

Gye Do-hyeop murmured against his ear, “Do you remember every spot I came inside you yesterday?”

“Please don’t say such things,” Seoul begged in a frantic whisper. “We’re out in public…”

Gye Do-hyeop flashed a wicked smirk. “If anyone overhears, I’ll puncture their eardrums right now. Just count to three.”

“That’s not what I meant…” Seoul murmured helplessly.

At that grin, heat flooded Seoul’s ears. For one fleeting second, he wanted to reach up and pull off the Deputy Director’s mask, and the desire embarrassed him almost immediately. Gye Do-hyeop was handsome enough even half-hidden, yet Seoul found himself longing to see his full smile. He swallowed and glanced around. Yu Jeong-ham, who had guarded him like a shadow all evening, had disappeared somewhere, but neither of them seemed particularly concerned. Gye Do-hyeop went on murmuring filthy recollections of the previous night into Seoul’s burning ear while Seoul’s shoulders rose and fell in helpless tension, his gaze wandering nervously around the room.