Chapter 35

“You weren’t asleep.”

It was ostensibly a question, but the downward cadence at the end made it sound more like a statement of fact.

Jaeha set the book he had been reading on the sofa and looked up at Taegeon, who had just stepped into the room.

For some reason, the bangs he usually wore loose over his forehead had been swept back and fixed neatly in place. With his handsome brow exposed, the wildness that ordinarily clung to his presence seemed somewhat subdued.

As that rough edge receded, the delicacy of his features stood out more sharply than usual. The contrast was striking enough that Jaeha could not help noticing it.

Perhaps it was because Taegeon was a man who thrived in the field, unlike Jaeha, who spent his life entombed within concrete walls. His sun-bronzed skin harmonized effortlessly with those refined features, lending him an appearance that was both elegant and feral.

With his hair swept back, he carried an entirely different air. Even so, he still resembled a beast prowling through a forest of steel and concrete.

Jaeha stole another glance at Taegeon’s transformed appearance before addressing him. The man looked faintly languid, though there was something heavier beneath it.

“I haven’t seen you these past few days…”

A low chuckle rumbled from Jang Taegeon.

He stood in his shirtsleeves, his suit jacket nowhere in sight. His tie hung from one hand, the fabric damp and stained with something the black material concealed too well to identify at a glance. It might have been water, or it might have been something else entirely.

Then Jaeha noticed the dark reddish smear along the edge of Taegeon’s dress-shirt collar.

Blood.

Taegeon followed his lingering gaze and answered before Jaeha could ask.

“There was a fight at a funeral.”

Jaeha said nothing.

“Fights break out at funerals often enough.” Taegeon’s expression remained impassive. “And I won.”

A quiet laugh escaped Jaeha despite himself. Apparently, the time Taegeon had returned with a knife wound truly had been an exceptional case.

Myeongsun had once said as much.

—“When Director Jang appears, no one else can move a muscle. The entire atmosphere in the field changes. He’s unbelievably strong, too. Even against big guys like me, I’ve never seen him break a sweat.”

Jaeha had wanted to ask how Taegeon had ended up stabbed if that was true, but he had kept his mouth shut. He did not want to appear as though he were prying too deeply into the man’s affairs.

The restraint was absurd when Jaeha himself had been the one to stir the flames and shake Myeongwon to its foundations. Yet he had continued playing the innocent bystander, privately hoping Taegeon might find his efforts commendable simply because he refrained from interfering in comparatively trivial matters.

When Jaeha fell silent, Taegeon studied him, his eyes searching his face.

“Why do you look so choked up? Is Lee Jaeha’s little hole pining for its wife?”

His tone was flat, his voice deep and grave, yet a faint trace of affection lingered at the end of the vulgar taunt, brushing against Jaeha’s ears.

It transformed what should have sounded like harassment into something unexpectedly gentle, almost as though Taegeon were asking whether Jaeha had remained awake until this late hour simply to wait for him.

By the time Jaeha fully understood the meaning buried beneath the words, he had lost the ability to answer.

“What kind of… No. That’s not it.”

“It isn’t?”

Taegeon asked again, as though he genuinely wanted confirmation.

The instant Jaeha realized he could not deny it completely, heat crept upward from his earlobes. Taegeon’s gaze, which had been fixed intently on his eyes, drifted toward that telltale wash of crimson.

Jaeha had to suppress the ridiculous urge to raise a hand and shield himself from the penetrating stare.

A pathetic wave of self-loathing washed over him. He was behaving like a virgin on the verge of his first encounter, so nervous in Jang Taegeon’s presence that he doubted he could have torn open a condom wrapper without fumbling.

His humiliation only deepened when he remembered that Taegeon was the same age as Lee Jaeho. Jaeha had endured his immature half-brother muttering endless profanity about how tedious it was whenever someone so much as suggested a sparring match. Yet whenever Jaeha stood before Jang Taegeon, his own words instinctively seized in his throat.

He was fully aware of how peculiar the reaction was. Even so, Jang Taegeon remained the only person capable of making him this tense.

Jaeha bit his lip and endured the silent war raging inside him. Only after fighting himself through what felt like countless battles did he manage to force out an answer.

“That’s not it, but…”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s true that I was looking for you, Director Jang.” Jaeha’s voice faltered despite his effort to steady it. “I haven’t seen you in so long, so…”

The rest of the confession remained unspoken.

I missed you.

Jang Taegeon silenced it with his lips.

The kiss consisted of nothing more than a soft tug at Jaeha’s lower lip before Taegeon released him. It was an unexpectedly delicate touch from a beast who moved as though every inch of space belonged to him by undisputed right.

In that instant, Lee Jaeha realized the searing intensity he felt whenever their bodies met was not merely the superficial response of an overstimulated nervous system. Even this playful, almost childish kiss left his lower abdomen unbearably heavy.

Curiosity stirred within him. Why was Jang Taegeon initiating such light, tentative contact?

As though the question had been written plainly across Jaeha’s face, Taegeon lifted his head after that brief dip and answered.

“I couldn’t wash my hands.”

Only then did Jaeha notice that both of Taegeon’s fists were smeared with blood. It would have been impossible for him to kiss Jaeha in his usual manner, with one hand crushing the back of his neck while his tongue drove deep and demanded everything.

“You don’t like dirty things, Executive Director.”

“When did I ever…” Jaeha began, heat climbing even higher along his neck.

“I’m only saying you’re cute because you’re so particular.”

Taegeon gave him a quiet chuckle.

At the sight of that smile, Jaeha released a short, stifled groan.

What in the world am I supposed to do?

How could he possibly explain that, for Jang Taegeon, he would gladly boil and simmer in the foulest filth?

Paradoxically, for a man who treasured order, Lee Jaeha loved language. He delighted in ambiguity, in descriptions that twisted syntax until every word screamed with meaning.

Now, however, he feared that the very thing he loved might confine emotions that had no boundaries.

“My hands are clean.”

Jaeha offered no further explanation. He simply wound his arms around Taegeon’s neck and threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of his head, drawing him closer before claiming his lips.

He dreaded the moment he tried to imprison his swelling heart within the narrow limits of language. If he forced these emotions into a handful of inadequate words, he feared everything left unsaid would be severed without mercy.

That was why Lee Jaeha remained silent.

Instead, he pressed his lips more firmly against Jang Taegeon’s, praying that his entire soul might pass through that single desperate touch.

“I’ll do it,” he whispered. “If there’s anything you find burdensome, Director Jang… please let me carry it for you.”

Anything that troubles you, I’ll take care of it.

Lee Jaeha despised his own cowardice. He hated that he could not express the truth in any clearer way, yet he found himself unable to tear his gaze from Taegeon’s lips.

How could he possibly make the man understand the sheer magnitude of everything overflowing inside him?

At last, he abandoned the attempt to explain.

He would simply devote himself to loving him.

Then the beast answered.

“At times like this, why the hell didn’t you marry some sweet little bastard instead?” Taegeon’s voice sank lower. “One of those types who’d ask, ‘Do you even know what I’m going to make you do? You’re far too reckless,’ and all that sentimental shit.”

Jaeha stared at him in silence.

“What a shame. It seems your wife is a little…” Taegeon allowed the unfinished sentence to linger between them. “…short on conscience.”

He seized Lee Jaeha by the wrist and yanked him forward.

There was not even a heartbeat in which Jaeha could gasp.

***