Ch 6

<Episode 6>

Seven months ago from that day (3)

 

“Okay. Oh, do you want me to get you something from duty-free?”

— …How much can you spend?

“Just tell me first.”

— …My wallet’s worn out.

“A long wallet or a bi-fold?”

— A bi-fold.

“Got it.”

— If it’s a burden, don’t buy it.

“No, come on. Of course I can do that much. Just wait until I get back.”

— Alright.

Even after hanging up, the ache of longing didn’t fade. He missed him. He wanted to know every small detail of his day, to ask questions about everything. Hyunjun came to Eunho’s mind as naturally as breathing, without effort. That was why it felt so unfair. Hyunjun was the one who had asked to start dating, yet over time, Eunho was the one clinging harder.

Though they’d exchanged only a few words, the emotional toll left him exhausted, his whole body aching as if from strain. Eunho, catching his breath with a ragged sigh, rubbed his face as the nurse called his name and rose to his feet.

***

“The legal team sent over the final contract review documents, including the previous revisions. I’ve also forwarded them to your email. Since the flight departs at 9:40 in the morning, I’ll arrive by six on Monday.”

That day, he left work earlier than usual. Eunho’s movements were brisk as he parked the car and switched off the ignition. Even as he unfastened his seatbelt, there was no sound from the backseat. Turning his head, he saw Yoonjae watching him quietly, expression still, his gaze unwavering. Finally, he spoke.

“Something happened?”

“…No, sir.”

“You seem down.”

Caught by Yoonjae’s penetrating look, Eunho let out a hollow smile. His boyfriend, Hyunjun, was aware of how Eunho felt but brushed him off under the excuse of being too busy. And yet his aloof boss showed more concern, making Eunho sigh without meaning to.

“If you don’t have plans after work, come inside and have dinner.”

When silence lingered, Yoonjae broke it himself, holding him back.

Over his broad shoulders stretched the garden path, dyed with the fiery glow of sunset. To conceal his sagging mood, Eunho straightened his posture and followed him with firm steps.

Dinner had already been set by the housekeeper, who was preparing to leave. After washing his hands and sitting down, Eunho was greeted by a neatly arranged Korean meal. A lump caught in his throat—it felt like eating home-cooked food from his parents’ house again. Yoonjae, having removed only his blazer, simply said “Let’s eat” and, while Eunho ate quietly, poured him a glass of water.

“Did I ruin a weekend you were supposed to spend with your boyfriend?”

“No. He’s studying for the civil service exam. He’s busy.”

It was bitter, but Eunho had accepted the gloom that came with dating someone preparing for the exam. The problem was, it had already been three years.

“You’ve been supporting him for a long time, then.”

“…Does it seem that way?”

Yoonjae’s steady gaze felt both grateful and burdensome. Was it because they were at his home? Normally, he was reticent, rarely starting conversations and answering curtly, yet tonight the words flowed surprisingly easily.

“You look lonely.”

At that, Eunho’s hand faltered, his spoon wavering in midair. The directness struck deep, stirring up resentment toward Yoonjae. He almost snapped back, what about you, do you even have someone?, but swallowed it, fearing rudeness. What he wanted was not food, but alcohol.

“Feels like you need a drink, not dinner. There’s plenty here.”

Was he a mind reader? Eunho lifted his gaze from the grains of rice to meet Yoonjae’s face, his sharp, well-defined features filling his sight.

“No, sir. If I drink, I’ll probably end up passing out.”

He ached for a drink badly, but he drew the line. He didn’t want to show weakness in front of his boss.

“You can stay over. There are plenty of rooms.”

“Thank you, but no. I should go.”

If he lingered any longer, he feared he might give in to Yoonjae’s tempting words. Snapping himself out of it, Eunho shoved the remaining food into his mouth.

“Then, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No need, sir. I’ll be off now.”

The crushing loneliness and the gnawing sense of loss had driven him to the edge. Since the start of the year, his emotions had been swinging wildly. Perhaps Hyukpil’s words had been the spark, because he found himself swept along more and more by these wretched feelings. Eunho realized he was now debating whether or not to finally be honest with himself about the emotions pressing against their limit.

***

Six months ago from that day (1)

The moment they sat down in business class, Yoonjae’s eyes turned razor-sharp as he reviewed the legal team’s final documents. Some of the investment contract terms had changed over the weekend, which threw off the figures confirmed by the finance team, resulting in minor discrepancies.

“This is the shareholder report on SLC Partners that Chief Yoon sent over this morning. There was a change in the stake of the second-largest shareholder, so I think it would be good to double-check.”

As he scanned the printed pages one by one, Yoonjae idly brushed his sideburn with a fingertip, a faint, unreadable smile tugging at his lips. Did he spot a mistake? Before Eunho could wonder further, Yoonjae set the papers aside and closed his eyes. It was a signal: he had grasped everything already, no need to worry.

Eunho turned his head, gaze drifting blankly to the white clouds outside the window. If he hadn’t been accepted at Yuseong Venture Capital, perhaps right now he would be returning home from a trip across Europe. In fact, on the very morning he received the acceptance call, he had still been looking up information about backpacking routes.

After arriving in Singapore, they went straight to SLC Partners in the car arranged for them. A member of the legal team, who had come the day before, was already waiting. As soon as Eunho stepped out of the airport, he had texted Hyunjun to let him know he’d arrived safely—but no reply came.

The investment in SLC Partners was around 13 million Singapore dollars, roughly 11 billion won. Compared to Director Han’s simultaneous deal in the U.S.—28 million U.S. dollars, about 31.7 billion won—it was smaller, but still a substantial sum, not to be taken lightly.

While the two companies’ staff exchanged detailed investment terms and legal considerations, Eunho sat tense, recording every word Yoonjae spoke without missing a single point.

By the time three hours had passed, the marathon meeting had finally come to a close. Once the legal team finished their last review and Yoonjae signed, everything was settled. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the crimson sunset flared, as if sparking its last embers.

By the time they returned to the hotel, dusk was thickening into night. Gazing out at the colorful city lights spreading across the skyline, Eunho’s eyes grew heavy with solitude. He rubbed his weary face and, after securing the important documents in the safe inside Yoonjae’s suite, was about to leave when Yoonjae appeared, fresh from the shower.

He walked out toweling his damp hair, his pheromones carrying a softer, unfamiliar note. With every movement of the white bathrobe as it shed droplets of water, the robe opened slightly to reveal his well-defined chest. Whether it was natural build or disciplined maintenance, Eunho couldn’t help but feel envious. Flushing, he turned his gaze aside.

“The contract is in the safe. I set the code to your extension number—eight digits.”

Yoonjae gave a small smile at Eunho’s faintly uneven breath, then disappeared into the adjoining room to change into something lighter.

“I’ll order dinner. Go change into something comfortable and join me.”

Eunho carried his suitcase into the smaller room across from the living area. Forcing his clouded head to clear, he unpacked a few things, then stepped into the shower, surrendering himself to the hot water. He preferred summer to winter, but even he couldn’t handle Singapore’s oppressive humidity. After pulling on a light cotton T-shirt, he opened the bathroom door and hesitated, chilled by the cool air in the living room. Maybe he should change into something warmer.

By the time he returned to the living room, a bellboy had already come and gone. The table was neatly set with several dishes. Yoonjae gestured for him to sit and opened a bottle of wine with a practiced hand.

“Wine?”

“Yes.”

Pouring half a glass into the deep bowl of crystal, Yoonjae picked up knife and fork, slicing into his steak with fluid ease.

“You worked hard today.”

Eunho glanced over the table, then shook his head slightly. This hotel was famous for its lobster, and according to a list of Vice President Choi’s food preferences that a former secretary had once passed on, seafood had always been at the top.

“I thought you liked seafood. Did I get that wrong? I heard the lobster here is famous.”

Yet the table held only salad, grilled vegetables, and steak. Not even a simple shrimp cocktail, surprising in a place like Singapore, surrounded by the sea. Eunho didn’t need to look up to feel the weight of Yoonjae’s gaze pressing down.

“I do like it.”

“Then why…”

The scrape of his knife halted. When Eunho looked up, Yoonjae, who had been wearing a faint, plain smile, resumed cutting his steak and replied offhandedly.

“Because I thought you wouldn’t enjoy it even if it were right in front of you.”

“…What?”

“You can’t eat shellfish.”

The words slipped out of him, and then, as if realizing, he muttered a short “Ah,” touching his forehead lightly. Eunho paused. He was certain he hadn’t written his shellfish allergy on his résumé, and he didn’t remember telling Chief Yoon. As far as he knew, he had never mentioned it to Vice President Choi either. Though the subject was left unspoken, it was clear Yoonjae had meant him. Eunho’s eyes widened.

“How did you know?”

“…I just did. You looked like it.”

And with that, Yoonjae focused back on his food, signaling that the subject was closed. Eunho quietly picked up his spoon and tasted the warm cream of mushroom soup. Perhaps because it was his first proper meal since arriving, his appetite roared to life as soon as it slid down his throat.

“Don’t worry too much about the company we’re visiting tomorrow. It’s not important.”

His calm tone fell across the table as he chewed a spear of grilled asparagus. Eunho recalled the report on the company scheduled for tomorrow’s visit.

“Wasn’t it a place you’d been paying attention to for some time?”

“I changed my mind. I’m not planning to invest. It’s just a final courtesy visit. Keep that in mind.”

If he was that certain, then either something troubling had surfaced, or the investment simply lacked merit. Without comment, Eunho cut into his steak and ate. Perhaps because of the fatigue, the wine was going down smoothly.

He even entertained the reckless thought of another glass to ensure a deep sleep—reckless, but prompted by Yoonjae’s demeanor. The sharp edges in him had softened, his smile tinged with fatigue yet suffused with ease.

After finishing his meal, Eunho refilled his glass and swirled the wine on his tongue, gazing absentmindedly at the dazzling city lights glittering beyond the wide glass windows.

“What’s weighing on your mind so much?”

His deep, resonant voice brushed past Eunho’s ear. Maybe the alcohol was getting to him, because his body reacted slower than his thoughts. Turning his head half a beat late, Eunho finished the rest of his wine and let his words trail off in a whisper.

“…This and that.”

Still, there was no reply from Hyunjun. Busy with studying or not, it would’ve been nice if he had at least sent a short message. Disappointed by the silence, Eunho bit down on his lower lip before letting it go, then gave a small laugh.

“When you’re struggling, don’t keep it all to yourself. If you can, talk to someone and let it out.”

“…Do I look like I am?”

“You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind. That’ll make you sick.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Eunho was slowly forgetting that the man in front of him was his superior. His body and mind, uncoiling from tension, began to relax.

“Even if I did say it, it’d just be like cutting away at myself.”

“It’s not about your parents, is it? Then… your lover?”

“Are you reading my mind now?”

“Well…”

As his damp hair dried into a mess, Yoonjae brushed back the stray bangs with his fingers. Eunho’s gaze followed the movement of those fingers as they swept his hair aside.

“Don’t you have worries too, sir?”

“…It’s not like I don’t.”

“Then, to be fair, why don’t we each share one?”

Even as he spoke, Eunho cursed himself inwardly for being reckless. Maybe the alcohol had dulled his reason. As if asking for forgiveness in advance, he drained the rest of his wine in one gulp.

“I’ll go first. I think I’ve hit a slump. Honestly, I don’t even know how I feel anymore.”

“…Sounds like you’re worn out from taking care of someone.”

Fatigue deepened the shadows around Yoonjae’s eyes, making the crease of his double eyelids more pronounced. Eunho pressed his heavy eyelids with his fingers and wiped away the tears that welled up instinctively. His throat tightened at the man’s words, but he didn’t want to make a scene by crying in front of him.

“Do you still see only that person? Or is it just loyalty now?”

“…Half and half.”

“And if someone else caught your eye—would you have the resolve to walk away?”

The slight upward lilt at the end of his words asked whether Eunho had the will to decide. Struck to the core, Eunho hesitated, rubbed the back of his neck, and lowered his head.

Though he often grumbled about how hard it was, Eunho had never once seriously considered breaking up with Hyunjun. Nor had he ever imagined falling for someone new.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been through that, so I can’t say.”

It was his first long relationship. Until now, love had always missed its mark, but Hyunjun had been the first person whose heart aligned with his. That was why Eunho had never once pictured a life without him.

Truthfully, it was fear. If the man he believed to be his soulmate disappeared from his side, he was terrified he’d be left an empty shell without feeling. So whenever Hyunjun seemed indifferent, Eunho’s heart clenched, though he hid it well and forced himself to wait it out.

Inside, he always wanted to whine for attention—but he was scared that showing that side of himself would only drive Hyunjun away. A thirst welled up in him. Eunho poured the last of the wine into his glass.

“And you, sir?”

His eyelids grew heavy, and he leaned his head against the sofa’s backrest. He knew how ridiculous he must look right now, but he wanted to brush it all off as the alcohol’s fault.

Yoonjae didn’t seem displeased with his demeanor. Reclining casually against the sofa with his arms crossed, he gave a faint, enigmatic smile and answered evenly.

“There’s someone I’m worried about. At this rate, things won’t end well for him.”

“…”

“I want to help, but I’m not sure he’ll even listen.”

A damp sigh was tucked inside his tone. His gaze, sharp and steady, pierced Eunho with a weight that made him uncomfortable. Eunho turned his eyes away, pretending to study his wine glass, because the man’s stare was too intense, too vividly colored.

“…Can’t you just persuade him?”

“I should try.”

“Whoever that is… he’s lucky.”

He was clearly drunk. Words slipped out before he could filter them, but they weren’t empty politeness—they came from genuine envy. Without realizing, the thoughts balled up in his chest spilled past his lips.

From Eunho’s lonely perspective, simply having someone care enough to worry was a blessing. Each time his finger tapped the round bowl of the wine glass, a clear, resonant sound echoed.

“…If only he understood that.”