* * *
‘Ki Taeryu’ matching complete!
- ♥……-10%
- ♥……0%
- ♥……0%
- ♥……0%
His name was displayed, followed by a list of percentages in descending order.
Taeryu had been scrolling through the results without much interest, but his hand suddenly halted at the very bottom.
- ♥……99%
Beneath that fifth entry, a name was written.
‘Yoo Junhee.’
The thought of Junhee, his fingers trembling, typing out his own name and checking the matching rate, made Taeryu inexplicably delighted.
He had no idea what kind of ridiculous scheme Ki Taeseong had cooked up this time—holed up in his room like a recluse, constantly glued to his computer back when they were at Hyunwol Hall—but it certainly turned out to be an entertaining one.
For a moment, Taeryu even considered forgiving him.
The man who had dumped everything onto his shoulders only to flee with the most crucial piece of evidence.
Sensing a gaze on him, he glanced at the rearview mirror and caught Yeo Daeyun sneaking glances at him with a strange expression.
‘What are you looking at?’
‘…Ah, nothing.’
Taeryu scowled, and Daeyun quickly averted his eyes, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
He still had no idea what Ki Taeseong was scheming, but one thing was certain—among the pieces he had put into play, Yoo Junhee was definitely one of them.
That fool didn’t even realize the reins were already in Taeryu’s hands.
That night, Taeryu gazed out the window at the top floor of Naru Villa, where the lights had just flicked on.
He stroked his chin in satisfaction.
“Junhee, now we’re even. Don’t you think?”
He murmured the words while running his fingers gently through Junhee’s soft, sleeping hair.
There were many ways to keep Yoo Junhee by his side.
For example, he could make himself appear pitiful enough that Junhee would stay out of sympathy.
That would certainly be the easier route.
He could tie him down that way if he wanted.
But sympathy was fleeting.
From the very beginning, Taeryu had approached Yoo Junhee with the intent to use him.
And Junhee, wary and fearful by nature, would never stop doubting him.
What he needed was something more absolute.
Something like… guilt.
“I’ll make sure you use me just as much as I use you.”
Taeryu understood Yoo Junhee better than anyone.
Junhee was not the type to easily forget the wounds inflicted on him.
And even more so, he was someone who carried the weight of the wounds he inflicted on others, suffocating under the burden of guilt.
“So, remember this forever.”
That you used someone for your own benefit.
That you ruined someone else’s marriage prospects for the rest of their life.
That’s what Ki Taeryu is.
Don’t forget it—not until the moment one of us dies.
Love, that boundless, uncertain emotion, could never be as reliable as this kind of shackle.
After all, feelings could change as easily as flipping a coin.
‘Then what? Should I just marry you?’
When he had used the word “marriage” to scare Junhee away, he already knew exactly which burrow that frightened rabbit would run into.
It was inevitable from the moment Hong Yeonggyeong first sought out Junhee.
That foolishly arrogant woman had been so desperate to stall him—desperate to keep him from doing anything until Ki Taeseong returned.
Every time Chairman Ki tried to throw him into the conglomerate marriage market, she would make a scene, disrupting every single attempt.
So, just to spite her, he had brought Junhee to a hotel.
For someone like her to ignore Junhee entirely—that would be a sign that the world was ending.
Hong Yeonggyeong, who had once handed Junhee’s mother a fortune and demanded she get rid of her child, was a woman who only saw half the picture.
The mother who had given birth to Ki Taeryu hadn’t done so out of love.
She had merely held onto the child like a guaranteed check, waiting for the father to come claim him while she sold her body in a red-brick house.
Even if she had plugged her ears, she wouldn’t have been able to block out the endless groaning and suffering in that place.
If Yoo Junhee couldn’t handle him, then the answer was simple—he would just have to create a situation where Junhee had no choice but to.
Just like his mother had.
Taeryu pulled Junhee’s bare body into his embrace, locking him in his arms as he slept, oblivious to the world.
“Sweet dreams, Junhee.”
At least in your dreams, you should be happy.
He had slept for a long time.
It had been so long since he last had such a deep sleep that the clarity in his head felt almost unfamiliar.
Lying there with his eyes closed, Taeryu reached out across the bed, searching.
“…Junhee.”
His voice, rough as if scratched raw, echoed emptily through the room like sound lost in a hollow cavern.
Empty?
His eyes flew open, but the blackout curtains kept the room in total darkness.
Sitting up abruptly, he threw off the blanket and stepped out of bed.
The sheets slid down his naked body, but he paid no mind, moving straight to yank open the curtains.
With a sharp rustle, the sunlight poured in.
Squinting against the brightness, he slowly opened his eyes.
“…Junhee?”
The vast space was empty—except for him.
…It couldn’t have been a dream.
He strode toward the bed. The scattered traces left behind—there was no mistaking them.
Most of all, Junhee’s fresh scent still lingered in the air.
Only the one who carried that scent was nowhere to be found.
“…Yoo Junhee.”
Taeryu walked over to the door and threw it open.
Maybe Junhee was in the bathroom, showering like always.
But when he stepped inside, the floor was completely dry.
“…So you want to play hide-and-seek again?”
He figured Junhee must be searching for the intercom again, just like last time, and began checking the rooms one by one.
As he searched, however, something dark began surfacing on his face.
By the second room, he regretted tormenting Junhee twice.
By the third, he regretted doing it three times.
By the last room, he had no choice but to admit—he had gone too far.
A tinge of remorse flickered within him.
After combing through every corner, he finally stopped in front of the dining table.
He had passed by this spot earlier.
How had he not noticed it?
“…Shit. Junhee.”
A neatly folded suit, arranged with meticulous precision.
A white shirt with its buttons torn off.
And on top of it all, a single black card.
Everything he had given Junhee, cast aside.
Yoo Junhee was gone.
[Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard. This is Air Flight 301, departing for Jeju. For your safety and comfort, please place your belongings in the overhead compartments…]
For the first time in his life, Junhee was on a plane.
His entire body was tense.
And why was the airport so massive and complicated?
Just finding the check-in counter had been a struggle.
Everything felt overwhelming.
Without the help of the kind airport staff, he might have ended up lost and missed his flight entirely.
“…Whew.”
To be honest, he was in such a dazed state that he could hardly remember how he had even made it this far.
All he had brought with him was a single bag, and yet, despite it being light, he could barely walk properly, his steps uneven and faltering.
Seeing Junhee looking around in confusion, someone had even approached first to help him with the ticketing process.
Even when he had been beaten in the hospital parking lot, it hadn’t been this bad.
But now, his entire body ached, as if he had just gone through a brutal endurance test.
“Sir, would you like a blanket if you’re feeling cold?”
Noticing how Junhee had been curled up and shivering for some time, a flight attendant approached him with a kind expression.
“……What? Oh, no, I’m fine.”
“Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”
It was only then that he took a look around.
The weather had warmed considerably, even to the point of an early summer heat, and yet he was the only one wearing a turtleneck.
“Damn it……”
Junhee quietly cursed.
When he had first opened his eyes and seen the mottled marks all over his body, he had nearly passed out.
There was no question as to who had painted over him so thoroughly, as if his body were a blank canvas.
He placed a trembling hand on his thigh, trying to steady himself, but his body refused to obey.
……Especially inside—an unbearable, raw sting, like a layer of skin had been scraped away.
“Crazy bastard.”
Last night.
Once the storm had passed, he had regained his senses.
But that man’s eyes had been even wilder than before.
As if what he had just devoured wasn’t enough, he had feasted on Junhee like a starving animal, tearing into him without leaving a single scrap behind.
There was no other way to describe it.
At some point, he vaguely remembered crying and begging to be let go, but even then, the bastard had only coaxed him gently, whispering that it was the last time—the very last time—before flicking his tongue like a serpent.
‘But I’m sure…… I took a suppresant…….’
Junhee’s thoughts reeled, retracing further back than last night’s events—until they hit a jarring bump, like a car jolting over a speed bump.
When he had first seen Ki Taeryu, he had sensed it immediately—he was in rut.
But so was Junhee.
‘Shit. Could it be…… what Cha Yoonjae gave me?’
……What if it hadn’t been a sedative?
If he hadn’t seen that smile—the one that had stood beside Cha Haetsal as they greeted Cha Junwoo—he wouldn’t have believed it.
But if—just if—it really were true.
‘You might think I’m being paranoid, but…… don’t get too close to him. He’s not as good of a person as you think.’
The words of Moon Doyoung echoed in his mind, and his vision darkened.
* * *
