* * *
- ♥……-10%
“Why is the matching rate…?”
Confusion struck as he stared at the first result.
Why had the -1% matching rate between Moon Doyoung and Ki Taeryu gained an extra zero?
More surprising was learning that the matching rate wasn’t fixed—it could fluctuate over time.
He checked the second, third, and fourth entries in succession.
- ♥……0%
- ♥……0%
- ♥……0%
A sigh escaped Junhee’s lips.
The matching rate with a rare omega he’d sought all the way from the Daejeon branch was abysmal.
Hovering over the last entry, his trembling thumb hesitated.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he closed his eyes.
Bzzzz—!
The gray phone vibrated energetically next to the new phone he’d placed beside it.
Junhee’s gaze shifted to the screen.
[Chief Director Ki Taeryu]
After all this silence, why now?
Debating whether to ignore it, he finally answered, bracing himself.
“…Yes, this is Yoo Junhee.”
“Missed me?”
The sheer absurdity of the first words made it clear it wasn’t a scam call.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Do I need a reason to not miss someone?”
Junhee couldn’t even muster a laugh at the audacity.
“But you’ve thought about me, haven’t you?”
Instead of replying, Junhee gripped the phone tightly.
“Guess that’s a yes.”
He thought he could hear laughter through the receiver, which only irritated him more.
“I was busy with an urgent business trip and just got back.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Thought you might be curious.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Are you sulking?”
“No.”
Reducing Junhee’s internal turmoil to mere “sulking” made him feel sick.
Unbothered, Ki Taeryu remained his usual teasing self.
“Brought you a gift. Let’s call it even.”
“I don’t need it. If you don’t have anything else to say—”
A car horn blared loudly, cutting him off.
“If it’s not work-related, please don’t—”
Another honk interrupted him mid-sentence.
“What kind of lunatic makes this much noise outside an apartment on a weekend afternoon…?”
Realizing something, Junhee jumped out of bed and hurried to the window.
“…Unbelievable.”
The car he’d been avoiding for the past week was parked right outside his apartment, its high beams flashing obnoxiously.
“Are you hoping to get noise complaints?”
The sound of the car door slamming echoed loudly—Junhee’s way of rebelling.
Reclining leisurely in the driver’s seat, Ki Taeryu smirked.
“And what if I do?”
“Then you’ll be fined, obviously.”
“If that’s all, I can handle it.”
His nonchalant response only fueled Junhee’s frustration.
What annoyed him even more was how the sweet, slightly bitter pheromones wafting in the air somehow made him feel calm.
In the end, Ki Taeryu had barely lifted a finger, yet Junhee had come out on his own.
“Want to know where I’ve been?”
A large hand slowly reached out, covering the back of Junhee’s hand.
“No. I don’t.”
Though his hands were weak from a full day of cleaning, Junhee refused to back down.
But his resistance crumbled the very next moment.
Junhee stared at the other man in disbelief, his lips slightly parted.
“You went after Ki Taeseong?”
“…What?”
For a moment, Junhee couldn’t process the words.
Half of his week of torment had been courtesy of Ki Taeryu, but the other half?
That belonged to Ki Taeseong.
The bitter feud between the Ki brothers was the root cause of his suffering.
He’d just been unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire.
“You went looking for him? Where?”
“Taiwan.”
“Taiwan…”
It was a country Junhee had heard of but never visited—a distant, unfamiliar place.
“Did you find him?”
“Do I look like I found him?”
Ki Taeryu’s dark eyes gleamed as he took a step closer to Junhee.
The glint of madness in his gaze froze Junhee in place, his tongue tied in knots.
“Why… why are you asking me that?”
“I lost him.”
The words, bitten out through clenched teeth, sent a chill down Junhee’s spine.
That slippery bastard, Junhee thought, shivering at the icy venom in Taeryu’s voice.
For a moment, he didn’t know whether to feel relieved or anxious.
‘If that man gets caught… what happens then?’
Junhee had never seriously considered it—or perhaps he’d deliberately avoided the thought.
The homeless man who had given him a burner phone clearly harbored a grudge against the Taeseong.
‘Ignore me. Treat me like I don’t exist. But when the time comes, I’ll make sure you pay. You’ll regret it. That’s how I survived. You should try it too. It’s… surprisingly satisfying.’
‘…And what changed after all that surviving? Did it really ruin them?’
‘Close enough.’
Judging by the fire in Taeryu’s eyes, the man’s claim wasn’t far off the mark.
So, Ki Taeseong had done something unforgivable, particularly to Taeryu, before vanishing?
Was that why Taeryu was desperately hunting him down?
Junhee felt conflicted.
He hated the idea of being entangled in this mess, but he couldn’t bring himself to despise the man entirely.
‘If it weren’t for that burner phone… or if I hadn’t met him at all…’
He wouldn’t even be alive today.
That man was his savior—the first person to make him question if life really needed to have meaning to be worth living.
His life hadn’t turned rosy, but he’d managed to scrape by, even contributing to the Hanbit Orphanage whenever he could.
If they ever met again, Junhee wanted to thank him—except for one thing.
‘Getting me mixed up with Taeryu. That, I can’t forgive.’
Taeseong’s running away seemed to be ongoing, at least until Taeryu managed to find him.
And if Taeryu’s inability to catch his brother caused him this much frustration…
“Is my losing track of my brother a good thing for you, Junhee?”
Taeryu’s low voice jolted Junhee from his thoughts.
“What? What are you—”
“You looked relieved.”
“That’s… not true. I feel bad about it.”
“Really? Good to know. Didn’t realize that’s what your ‘sympathetic’ face looked like.”
“…That’s too much, don’t you think?”
Junhee didn’t know what expression he’d been making, but one thing was clear:
‘Taeryu not finding Taeseong is clearly driving him mad.’
Unwittingly, Junhee might have become a co-conspirator the moment he accepted that burner phone from the homeless man.
‘He’s trying to get to his brother through me, but I don’t have any useful information.’
Everything Taeryu was doing now—hovering around Junhee, questioning him—was a colossal waste of time.
If Junhee confessed he knew nothing about Taeseong, Taeryu would discard him without hesitation and go after someone else.
But why should Junhee make it easy for him?
“There must be someone helping him from behind the scenes.”
Taeryu’s voice was dangerously close, laced with tension.
Junhee swallowed hard.
Had he figured something out already?
His eyes darted downward to avoid Taeryu’s piercing gaze, landing instead on a scar running along the man’s jawline.
“Who…”
“Probably someone connected to Tae Mountain.”
Junhee couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, his fingers brushing lightly over the scar.
“Did you get hurt?”
Taeryu didn’t pull away, letting Junhee’s touch linger.
“A razor blade.”
“You should be more careful.”
“No matter how cautious you are, some things still cut deep.”
Taeryu’s eyes softened, their intensity melting into something like caramel.
Then, as if on impulse, he turned his head, pressing his lips to Junhee’s fingers.
Junhee froze as Taeryu’s lips brushed over his fingertips, slow and deliberate, almost as though savoring every ridge and whorl.
The sudden warmth sent a jolt through him, and he instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but Taeryu held firm, slipping Junhee’s finger between his lips and biting down lightly.
“Everything about you seems so… delicate.”
Junhee yanked his hand back, hiding it behind him.
“Your nonsense hasn’t changed, I see.”
“Be honest. You missed me.”
“I’m being honest. I didn’t.”
Taeryu smirked before grabbing Junhee’s face and pulling him into a kiss.
He nipped at Junhee’s lower lip before sliding his tongue into the parted mouth, exploring with an almost feral intensity.
Junhee’s breath hitched as Taeryu’s hand slid to the nape of his neck, holding him steady.
It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a storm, messy and consuming, leaving him breathless and trembling.
When Taeryu finally pulled back, Junhee was left panting, his lips swollen and tingling.
“Why do you keep… doing that to my cheek?”
Junhee muttered, glaring weakly as Taeryu pressed one last kiss to the side of his face.
* * *
