Ch 7

Episode 7

Six Months Ago from that day. (1)

Yoonjae, who had been leaning lazily against the sofa, straightened his posture, uncrossed his arms, and lifted his wine glass. Each time the blood-red wine slipped past his lips, his throat moved in a slow, steady ripple.

Eunho was growing bolder. He tossed out questions he never would have dared to ask under normal circumstances. Sitting across from him, the man didn’t feel like a superior but more like his friend Suyeong or senior Hyukpil. That sense of closeness was nothing but the wine’s doing.

“Sir, do you… have someone you’re seeing?”

“After nearly a month together, don’t you think you’d know if I did?”

“No.”

Cutting him off, Yoonjae let out a hollow laugh. Then he drained the rest of his glass in one go and began searching the wine rack for another bottle.

“Ten years now, maybe? It’s been that long.”

“…What surprises me more is how people have left you alone all this time.”

Eunho’s tongue was beginning to feel sluggish, his words dragging as if numbed. His vision blurred hazily, dreamlike. Realizing the alcohol was hitting hard, he lifted his head from the sofa’s backrest. He wanted to savor this moment a little longer.

“I’m sure you’ve heard from Chief Yoon already, but I never had the time.”

Perhaps dissatisfied with the wine selection, Yoonjae returned carrying a small bottle of liquor—just the right size for drinking alone. He brought only one straight glass, as if he had never intended to share it.

“I thought once I got settled, I’d be able to breathe a little. But it never ends. Feels like running on a hamster wheel.”

His words were so candid that it was hard to believe they came from a man of immense wealth, someone spoken of as living in “a league of their own.” It almost felt like a frank chat with a team leader, enough to stir a sense of camaraderie. Maybe that was the alcohol too.

“Don’t you ever feel lonely?”

The question slipped out, born of a small, burning desire for connection. He wanted to hear something like: everyone feels lonely, it’s just a shadow we live with, so there’s no need to dwell on it.

“Well… I guess I’ve just gotten used to this life. Honestly, I didn’t even realize it until now.”

Yoonjae sipped the liquor neat, savoring the taste and scent, then gazed at his empty glass and muttered in a low tone. In Eunho’s hazy consciousness, his stillness seemed sculptural, his sharp features piercing through the blur.

“Rather than lonely, I’d say it’s more… dull. Tedious, even.”

“…”

“Though lately, I think I’ve found a bit of fun again.”

“…That’s good, then. …Means you’ve… found a way.”

How consumed by work must one be to transcend loneliness altogether? Eunho’s sluggish, clogged mind tried to churn but gave up, and he sank back against the sofa. Sober, he would’ve been mortified for expecting anything from him—but now, dulled by drink, it felt like nothing.

“Not bad.”

“…Sorry?”

His vision blurred, the surroundings melting around Yoonjae’s figure. Maybe it was the clash between the injection that delayed his heat cycle and the alcohol, or maybe just the exhaustion of the day, but the intoxication had come much faster than usual.

“How about being drinking buddies, every now and then?”

“…Would you even put up with my drunken rambling?”

“Let’s try it first, then decide.”

Eunho nodded faintly as if to agree. The bell rang. It must have been hotel staff coming to clear the dishes, but Eunho’s body, stuck fast to the sofa, wouldn’t move. Yoonjae gestured for him to stay put and walked to the door.

As the staff entered and cleared the table, Eunho stared blankly, then slowly pushed himself up. A damp heaviness pressed around him, his ears ringing as if he were submerged in bathwater. Instinct told him to get to his room quickly. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his superior on the very first day of the trip.

But his body didn’t obey. The moment he grabbed the armrest to rise, gravity dragged him down, his vision spinning, his balance gone.

“You okay?”

A solid warmth pressed against his chest. Yoonjae had caught him as he stumbled. Their faces were so close that if he lifted his head, they’d collide. Eunho lowered his gaze and waved his hand weakly.

“…I’m fine.”

He tried to walk forward again, but his vision kept flickering in and out. His breathing quickened, his blood drained away as if sinking, the sensation eerily close to collapsing from anemia. Yoonjae, deciding enough was enough, pulled him into his arms.

“Did you force yourself to drink when you can’t handle it?”

“…No. This isn’t… normal.”

Disoriented, Eunho let his head fall against Yoonjae’s shoulder. With a sigh, Yoonjae slipped an arm beneath his knees and lifted him with surprising ease. Startled by the sudden weightlessness, Eunho clutched at his chest in reflex, clinging tight as his vision spun on.

“…Sorry.”

The world whirled until, at last, the softness of bedding cushioned the back of his head. Yoonjae laid him down, pulled a blanket over him up to the chest.

“Rest. I’ll leave the light on, just in case. If you get too dizzy to get up, call out.”

Even lying down, the floating sensation made him feel as though he were wandering through a dream. Watching Yoonjae’s broad back as he turned away, Eunho almost wanted to reach out and hold on. But the knowledge that this was reality—not a dream—kept him still. He only stared, dazed, until his eyes drifted shut. As the last of his strength sank away, his consciousness faded into darkness.

 

***

 

His parched tongue swept across his cracked lips before he opened his eyes. The clock already pointed to 2 a.m.

“Ha.”

The memories from a few hours ago flashed past like a lantern slide. I was out of my mind. Insane. Running a dry hand down his face, Eunho muttered rapidly, then threw off the blanket and got out of bed. He was still dizzy, but not so badly that he couldn’t hold himself up like earlier.

“……”

When Eunho came out to the living room to get some water, he stopped short at the sight of Yoonjae asleep on the long sofa, arms folded.

‘Rest. I’ll leave the light on, just in case. If you get too dizzy to get up, call out.’

Did he choose to sleep out here because he thought Eunho might not be able to call for help from the bedroom? No way. Impossible.

Still, the sight of Yoonjae leaving a perfectly good bedroom behind to sleep uncomfortably in the living room left Eunho not just bewildered but confused. After rubbing at his brow for a while, he walked over and lightly shook Yoonjae’s shoulder.

“Director.”

Long lashes lifted slowly, revealing dark brown eyes that met his.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Go sleep in your room.”

His eyes, red and heavy with fatigue, looked bloodshot. Yoonjae gave Eunho’s shoulder a couple of light pats, then turned and went into the bedroom.

Eunho had meant to thank him, but before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the door closing reverberated through the living room. Drawing in a small breath, Eunho pulled out some water from the fridge and drank. Gratitude and embarrassment fought across his face, scraping at him in turns.

***

His body stirred before his mind at the sunlight pouring across his eyelids. Eunho jolted upright, checked the time, and sighed in relief. Since it was early winter in Korea, the sun rose late, and for a moment the flood of light in the room made him think it was past nine. But the clock read 7:03.

Hearing the faint sound of a door opening and closing, Eunho stepped outside his room to find Yoonjae coming in, dressed in training clothes. Each step he took sent a subtle woody scent drifting from his damp hair.

“Sleep well?”

Had he gone to the fitness center? His thin shirt stretched taut over his sharply defined chest and arm muscles. Eunho ran a hand through his messy hair and wandered toward the kitchen.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“I’m fine.”

Awkward now, Eunho redirected his hand toward the fridge. When he pulled out a bottle of water and gave Yoonjae a questioning glance, Yoonjae held out his hand, so Eunho quickly passed it over.

“If I… made any mistakes yesterday, I’d like to apologize—”

“There wasn’t anything like that.”

He cut in before Eunho could even finish. His voice was firm. Holding Eunho’s wavering gaze, Yoonjae drained the bottle in one go and crushed it into the trash.

“If you’re still tired, rest some more. The visit to OSome company isn’t until the afternoon anyway.”

“No, sir. You should have breakfast.”

“Just a moment.”

He went back to the living room sofa, opened his laptop, and began checking something. As Yoonjae read, a faint smile of amusement touched his lips. Eunho, guessing it was work-related, hurriedly checked his phone for emails but found nothing new.

It had to be about the company. Thinking back, Eunho realized it must be the American fintech startup investment. When he sat down across from him, Yoonjae turned the laptop toward him, confirming his guess.

“Isn’t this company unprepared?”

“I’ve been checking separately.”

“Ah.”

Chief Yoon had once told Eunho that Executive Director Choi, while bold in his investments, was also careful and strategic. Yet recently, he had been plunging large sums into unexpected companies, worrying Chief Yoon. This American deal was one of them. Executive Director Choi had convinced the CEO to go through with it, but to Eunho it looked like an all-or-nothing gamble.

Yoonjae seemed satisfied as he stood, clearly pleased with the finalized investment terms.

“Shall we go for afternoon tea?”

“…Pardon?”

The sudden question made Eunho lift one eyebrow. Yoonjae was someone who didn’t care for sweets, who always returned untouched even the small slice of cake served with dessert.

“You don’t even like sweets, sir.”

“I just feel like it today.”

Eunho didn’t understand his mood, but he couldn’t deny that he wanted to try afternoon tea himself. He loved sweet foods, enough to keep his own little map of dessert shops.

“I’ll get ready.”

There was no way he was going out with bed hair and rumpled clothes. Eunho picked out fresh clothes and went into the shower.

***

The afternoon visit to OSome company was just that—a visit. Though it was a subsidiary of one of Singapore’s leading shipping firms and had consistently strong results, Yoonjae’s reaction was lukewarm.

Already uneasy about Yoonjae’s recent investment approach, Eunho could only watch nervously, too tense to say more.

Hyunjun hadn’t contacted him again today either. Irritated, Eunho shoved his phone into his briefcase to ignore it.

Leaving an hour earlier than expected, Yoonjae rented a car and drove Eunho toward the east coast. As soon as they stepped outside, the heavy, humid sea air pierced to the bone, forcing Eunho to hurry into the car. As much as he preferred summer over winter, this tropical weather, with humidity hovering around 97%, was far from welcome.

“It would’ve been better if Hong Kong were more stable, but with all the legislative shifts from China, the risk factor’s too high. Because of that, investment funds in Asia are being drawn to Singapore and Korea… Real estate, bonds, and equities here are still attractive.”

“Since it’s Asia’s trade hub, wouldn’t ports and shipping be decent investments too?”

“Given the current global climate and mid-to-long-term returns, real estate and long-term bonds are better.”

Because Yoonjae insisted on driving and took the keys, Eunho sat in the passenger seat, carefully asking why he had withdrawn from the OSome company investment, probing his investment perspective and principles one by one, and gradually taking in his reasoning.

“Feels good to be out like this.”

Outside the right window, dazzling sunlight melted over an emerald coastline, spreading like a picture. Just looking at it made him want to rip off his shirt and dive straight into the sea—but the moment he opened the car door, that fantasy would shatter. Better to sit inside the air-conditioned car and enjoy the view than fight the oppressive midday heat with his whole body.

Perhaps feeling stifled, Yoonjae undid a couple of buttons from his neatly fastened shirt and tugged his tie loose, tossing it into the back seat. The thick veins bulging on his forearms became prominent every time he moved the steering wheel, only to fade again.

By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, the two were walking along the beach. Though traces of the day’s heat still lingered in the air, it wasn’t as scorching as at midday.

From what Eunho had observed, Yoonjae was a man consumed by goals—so much so that outside of work, he showed interest in nothing else. At times, he seemed to have given up everything but the duty of leading the company his parents left behind, and that stirred a pang of pity in him.

Once they moved to a restaurant, they checked the menus the server handed over.

“This place is famous for crab. You should try it.”

As Eunho slid aside the lime-flavored water glass set in front of him to scan the menu, he felt Yoonjae’s gaze fixed squarely on the top of his head.

“Honestly, I’ve gotten numb to it with how often it’s ordered.”

The truth was, his sense of smell was already dulled by the mix of seafood dishes served at every table and the salty, fishy scent drifting in from the sea. Yoonjae only gave a faint smile and nodded.

“But…”

“……”

“How did you know I don’t like shellfish?”

Eunho had never told anyone. He racked his brain through the entire drive, but there was no memory of confiding in anyone else. How had Yoonjae figured it out?

Yoonjae dipped a piece of freshly baked bread into olive oil, thought for a moment, and answered casually.

“First day, when we went to that traditional restaurant—you didn’t touch the shrimp skewers or soy crab. Just a guess.”

A soundless gasp slipped from Eunho. Thinking back, it was true: he hadn’t touched the hot pot, the seafood skewers, or the soy crab that day.

‘So the crab porridge must’ve just been changed out because of taste.’

Eunho tapped his finger against the table, timing his words amidst the hum of surrounding voices.

“I’m allergic to shellfish.”

As his fresh fruit juice arrived, he took a cool sip and rolled the round glass between his fingers, reaching back into memory. The sunset tinged his pale, slender hand with a reddish glow.

“When I was ten, my parents bought lobster. I ate my fill that day, then the next day decided to have the leftovers. I should’ve eaten them right away, but I got distracted playing games and left them out at room temperature before eating them later. I don’t know if they were already bad or if leaving them out and reheating them did it, but I got terrible food poisoning. Since then, whenever I eat shellfish, I break out in red rashes all over. Sometimes I can’t even breathe.”

“Unlucky.”

“Since I’m the only one in my family like this, I’d say unlucky is right.”

Chili crab, seafood pasta, and—for Eunho—chicken salad and mushroom cream spaghetti began to fill the table one by one. As dusk fell, the once-brilliant emerald sea darkened into surging blackness.

Eunho twirled spaghetti onto his fork and tasted it. He wasn’t particularly picky, so everything he ate suited him. The only drawback was that, being on an island, over 70% of the dishes were seafood, leaving limited options he could actually enjoy.

“What do you usually do in your free time, Director?”

Eunho’s wandering gaze settled squarely on Yoonjae. His lips parted, and when he asked, Yoonjae—busy cracking crab—replied without hesitation.

“Work out, drink alone, and if I get restless, go out for some air… that’s about it.”

Was it that he had no will to share his time with anyone, or had he simply been alone for so long that solitude was easier? Hearing the lonely shadow beneath the brilliance others envied weighed heavily on Eunho.

“…You’ve always been alone.”

“You said you’d be my drinking buddy.”

After a brief pause, he ended his words in a hollow tone. Eunho set down his forkful of spaghetti, his expression turning serious.

“Are you sure about that? You saw me yesterday.”

“Which is why you need a drinking buddy.”

“…What?”

“Don’t get that drunk anywhere else. You looked too unsteady.”