* * *
Despite Jingyeom’s restless mind, nothing particularly eventful happened for some time.
Soohyuk and Jinwoo were the same as ever, and there was still no word from Wonbeom.
Jingyeom subtly asked Jinwoo about how Wonbeom was doing, but the only response he got was that he was busy working ever since becoming chairman.
Jinwoo also found Wonbeom’s sudden withdrawal peculiar.
Though he was curious, Jinwoo couldn’t bring himself to ask Jingyeom, Soohyuk, or even Wonbeom directly about it.
Then, today, Jinwoo was caught off guard when Wonbeom unexpectedly inquired about Jingyeom’s well-being.
After all this time of no contact or visits, why the sudden change?
“He’s doing well. He’s working steadily, too.”
“So, he’s still keeping at it.”
Wonbeom signed a document and closed it with a decisive thud.
“We should have a meal together sometime.”
“…With you as well?”
“Yes. With Director Seon and Secretary Yang too. It’s been a while since we had a lively meal together, don’t you think?”
Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly.
It was strange for someone who disliked noisy gatherings to suddenly suggest such an atmosphere.
And inviting Soohyuk and Secretary Yang along?
Wonbeom had never proposed such a meeting before, which naturally made Jinwoo suspicious.
‘What’s he planning?’
Although he wanted to figure out Wonbeom’s intentions, the chairman handed over a file and signaled him to leave, leaving Jinwoo no choice but to step out of the office.
Back at his desk, Secretary Yang noticed Jinwoo’s unusual expression and approached him.
“What’s wrong? Did the chairman say something again?”
“No, it’s not that…”
“Then why the face?”
Jinwoo tilted his head in genuine bewilderment.
“The chairman suggested having a meal together with my brother.”
Secretary Yang looked indifferent at first, but when Jinwoo added more, her jaw dropped.
“With Director Seon and you as well.”
“…Why us? I mean, Director Seon, fine, but why me?”
“I don’t know either. It just came out of nowhere.”
Jinwoo’s words made Secretary Yang serious, too.
A group meal?
For someone like Wonbeom, who wouldn’t even attend executive meetings unless absolutely necessary, to suggest this out of the blue was highly unusual.
Although there had been occasional group meals when Jingyeom was involved, they had been rare occurrences.
“…The chairman isn’t sick or anything, right? You know how they say people act strange when they’re ill. It’s not that, is it?”
“He seemed fine to me.”
“Well, that’s a relief. He can’t afford to get sick.”
When Jinwoo gave her a questioning look, Secretary Yang leaned in and whispered conspiratorially.
“Because no one gives out bonuses like the chairman does.”
“…”
“What’s with that face? What else does a corporate worker have besides money? Experience? Even that’s tied to money. Look around—no one out there gives like our chairman.”
“…Yeah.”
Meanwhile, Jingyeom had finally resolved to speak with Jinwoo before it was too late.
But the more he thought about when, where, and how to start the conversation, the more anxious he became.
As a result, he couldn’t focus on work and made a string of uncharacteristic mistakes all day: forgetting orders, processing payments incorrectly, even messing up drink preparations.
At first, his coworkers assured him it was fine, but after the mistakes kept piling up, he was relegated to dishwashing duty.
Even while doing the dishes, Jinwoo’s face consumed Jingyeom’s thoughts.
He imagined Jinwoo crying once he revealed everything and agonized over how to handle that moment. How should he act afterward?
His mind was a tangled mess of worries.
“Ah.”
Lost in thought, Jingyeom accidentally cut his right hand on the sharp blade of a knife he had been cleaning.
Even with gloves on, the knife sliced deep enough to tear the sponge he was holding.
Noticing the stinging pain, Jingyeom froze briefly.
A coworker nearby spotted the blood mixing with the soap bubbles and asked in alarm, “Hey, did you hurt yourself?”
“…Seems like I got a little cut.”
“You need to be more careful! There’s a first-aid kit over there—take off the gloves and put a bandage on. Wow, that’s a deep cut.”
When Jingyeom removed the gloves, blood was dripping freely from the wound, which was deeper than he’d thought.
His coworker, alarmed, handed him a clean cloth to press against it and insisted, “You can’t just stand there—go to the hospital!”
Without even having the chance to explain himself, Jingyeom was ushered out of the café.
Standing at the entrance, he glanced back, but the staff waved him off, urging him to hurry.
Seeing the blood soak through the cloth, Jingyeom sighed deeply and headed to the nearest clinic, reluctantly admitting that stopping the bleeding was more important than his other worries.
After receiving treatment, Jingyeom’s hand was now wrapped in a conspicuous bandage.
‘I can probably take it off later, right?’
If Jinwoo saw it, he might insist Jingyeom quit his job altogether.
Luckily, Jingyeom wouldn’t run into Soohyuk today.
But if he kept it hidden and they found out later, the fallout would be inevitable.
Although he appreciated their concern for his well-being, Jingyeom often felt weighed down by guilt, more so than the physical pain.
The constant worry about others made him feel increasingly drained.
As thoughts of Soohyuk and the ongoing dilemmas in their relationship compounded with the throbbing in his hand, Jingyeom suddenly felt tears welling up.
The blood loss had left him slightly dizzy, too.
Even though spring was approaching, the weather was still chilly, though the sunlight was warm.
Standing under it, Jingyeom instinctively closed his eyes.
Passersby began murmuring as they noticed him standing still, prompting Jingyeom to snap out of it and return to the café.
His bandaged hand drew concerned remarks from his coworkers, and the manager told him to leave early, saying he wouldn’t be able to work today anyway.
Jingyeom agreed to return to regular duties the next day, limiting himself to taking orders at the counter.
Leaving the café, he sat down heavily on a bench at the bus stop.
Looking at his bandaged hand, he let out a dry laugh.
It was entirely his fault, so there was no one to blame.
“…I won’t be able to move freely for a while.”
Although he’d told the manager he’d be back tomorrow, Jingyeom knew that as soon as Jinwoo or Soohyuk saw his hand, they wouldn’t let it go.
Sitting idly and waiting for the bus, Jingyeom couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the day was.
The sky was clear, the breeze cool, and the sunlight warm.
It made him want to escape somewhere far away.
But once again, the weight of his unresolved worries crushed that thought.
When the bus finally arrived, Jingyeom boarded and found an empty seat at the back.
As the vehicle moved, he observed the other passengers: some on their phones, some gazing out the window, and others chatting.
‘How peaceful.’
As he watched the scene before him, a sudden thought crossed his mind.
If he hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have ended up possessing Baek Jingyeom’s body.
And if that were the case, what kind of life would he be living now?
‘Maybe I’d have gone abroad to see Seungwon.’
Even back then, when he lived until adulthood, Seungwon was his only friend.
‘But now, at least I have a lover.’
Though he couldn’t introduce him to others, just having such an incredible lover by his side was more than enough.
But if Soohyuk were ever to leave him…
‘Would I end up with no one?’
By that time, even his relationship with Jinwoo might have changed.
A sting hit the tip of his nose.
He blinked hard, holding back tears—crying here wasn’t an option.
He forced himself to smile faintly at the glances of a few strangers, then turned his head to look out the window.
He blinked slowly when he noticed a car in the adjacent lane moving alongside the bus.
‘Huh? That car…’
The tears threatening to spill suddenly receded.
“..Soohyuk hyung?”
The driver’s side window was rolled down, so he pressed closer to confirm.
It was unmistakably Soohyuk.
‘Why is he here… Did he plant someone to keep an eye on me?’
It wasn’t even time for either Soohyuk or Jingyeom to finish work, so the fact that Soohyuk was here meant someone must have tipped him off.
The odds of coincidentally spotting him on a moving bus were near zero.
This was a situation that couldn’t be explained away.
Deciding not to drag this out further, Jingyeom pressed the stop button.
As he fished out his phone to call Soohyuk, his screen lit up with an incoming call from him.
“Hyung!”
“Get off at the next stop.”
“Okay, I’ll get off, but don’t drive like that—it’s dangerous!”
“I’ll handle it. Just get off.”
The call ended abruptly, leaving Jingyeom pouting.
“Who’s the one who should be upset right now?”
The timing couldn’t have been worse.
While there was a time when it was normal to have bodyguards trailing him, he thought those days were over.
But if Soohyuk had shown up so soon after he got on the bus, it meant the person watching over him wasn’t someone from Wonbeom but rather Soohyuk’s own man.
“Why is he going this far?”
Determined to confront Soohyuk, Jingyeom got off at the next stop, fuming.
As he looked around for Soohyuk’s car, another call came through, and Soohyuk’s only word was: “Behind.”
“…He’s crazy!”
He really was behind him, parked right at the bus-only stop where Jingyeom had just gotten off.
Worried someone might snap a photo and post it online, Jingyeom quickly climbed into the car.
“What are you doing here? This is a bus-only lane!”
“Seatbelt first.”
Soohyuk, who had sent him a heart emoji just that morning, now wore an expression as cold as ice.
Jingyeom had planned to demand answers about the surveillance, but Soohyuk’s mood was so dark that he quietly fastened his seatbelt.
Soohyuk drove a few blocks before pulling over to the curb.
Then, without hesitation, he unfastened his own seatbelt and grabbed Jingyeom’s arm, inspecting it closely.
* * *
Angry boyfie
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