At high noon, and in the very space he’d worked in for years, Lee Jaeha had just had sex—and didn’t even realize he looked pale and soft, like a crayfish that had shed its shell.
He also fidgeted like an elementary schooler bringing a classmate home for the first time. Whether Jaeha did or didn’t, after taking his time looking over the director’s office, Taegun brushed the dust off the crystal nameplate that read Director Lee Jaeha with his palm and spoke.
“From today, don’t go home alone after work. I’ll have Myungsoon stick to you, and you’re going to put up with it and go together.”
“…I won’t run anymore. I’m going straight home.”
Jang Taegun gave a small laugh. Perching his hips on the edge of Jaeha’s desk, he folded his arms and looked at him.
Jaeha even found himself thinking this man was the real owner of the room and he was the guest. Taegun dragged a slow line over the arch of his eyebrow with his index finger.
He pinched his brows a little, wearing the look of someone hearing something preposterous.
“So you knew you ran. Here I was thinking you were playing the husband who works day and night to support me.”
“……”
“So. Why did you run.”
Jaeha himself was slightly startled that his true feelings slipped out like that.
It had been closer to avoidance than flight. He didn’t have it in him to sit there as the man’s eyes lost focus with pain and just endure it.
He had to go out and do something—make sure the ones who did it didn’t skate, dig up what really happened, anything, he needed to act.
“Nothing to say? Want me to let it slide?”
“……”
When Jaeha met his gaze without answering, Taegun hm’d in his throat.
“Well, fine. Anyway, from today, don’t drive alone either.”
“Why is that…”
“Why ask why. I’ve got nothing to say too. You were the one batting your lashes and not answering—now you’re shameless about it.”
Straightening from his half-sit, Taegun walked past him. Jaeha hurried a glance at the clock. It was near quitting time.
“…Where are you going.”
“Looks like I’m going somewhere. I said don’t ride alone. Get on my hip. We’re clocking out.”
Only then did Jaeha pick up his pace and follow.
Watching that, Taegun turned back and opened the office door. From a slanting diagonal behind, he looked at him—maybe even with a faint smile.
He couldn’t be sure.
He was a little out of it.
“So that’s how this dumb bastard Myungsoon goes and plants his head first—no, I’m sorry. I should watch my mouth with brother-in-law here, but I’ve got a filthy tongue…”
“It’s fine.”
Jaeha answered no on reflex, then felt the ambiguity—was he declining the apology Jeonggil offered him, or rejecting being called “brother-in-law.”
If he was the brother-in-law, what was with the honorific. Reeling a little from the title even now, he picked up his water glass.
A glance at the round table showed Taegun, silent, lifting a shot of soju to his lips.
The round grill table had a thick central column to hold the brazier; with his long legs, he had them spread, uncomfortable.
Jaeha kept bumping knees, too, and had crossed his legs. The table was small, and four tall men sat around it; his knees kept knocking the underside. When he crossed them to avoid it, his knee touched Taegun’s thigh.
When he shifted away, worried the contact might bother him, a hand held and pressed him in place. Startled by the big hand resting over his knee, he looked—and Myungsoon was just accepting a refilled glass, not even glancing their way.
He’d suggested they eat after work. It took him a beat to work up the nerve; he managed to say it only after they met Jeonggil and Myungsoon in the underground lot, where they’d come to fetch their boss.
“Would you like to get dinner before you go.”
He hadn’t even answered yet when it happened. As Jeonggil bent to greet them both, his stomach let out a loud empty growl.
Only then did it hit Jaeha that, in front of Myungsoon and Jeonggil, he’d basically asked Taegun on a date, and he rushed to tack on,
“Let’s all go together, you too, Myungsoon, Jeonggil.”
“Gasp—really?”
Jeonggil’s eyes lit up. About Jaeha’s height but leaner, he had a sharp single eyelid look. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Out on the street he’d probably make an impression—almost—but when his mouth pulled up into a long grin, it made him look a little ingenuous.
But Myungsoon, by his side, flapped a hand and jammed an elbow into Jeonggil’s ribs before answering,
“We’re fine. You and the director should have a nice—”
“They’re worried you two are starving. Don’t split off. Open the damn door.”
With that, Taegun swung toward the sedan. Jaeha didn’t get to check his face.
Jeonggil scampered to open the car door so the boss could get in. Before climbing in, Taegun lightly cuffed the back of his head.
Jeonggil didn’t even yelp. He just scratched and, as if escorting royalty, carefully closed the door—then gave Jaeha a goofy grin. He knew it meant hurry up, and he got in as well.
Come to think of it, it was his first time in Taegun’s car. Already inside, elbow propped on the window frame and chin in hand, Taegun wore that same indifferent look.
With Myungsoon at the wheel and Jeonggil in front, they buckled up. Grinning back at the rear seat, Jeonggil asked,
“Where to?”
“Feed the beggar in your belly whatever the hell it wants.”
It was clearly a scolding tone, but Jeonggil just chirped, “Then—back-alley grill?” and kept up his cheerful chatter.
Jaeha liked how easy they were together. Since they were the ones working closest to Taegun, maybe asking them all to eat had been a good call.
Thanks to Jeonggil’s giggling up front, he found himself smiling without thinking—then felt a stare and turned. Taegun was staring right at him.
The corner of his mouth, lifted without thinking, dipped a little. He’d tensed when their eyes met.
Staring, Taegun reached out, pulled him in by the back of the neck, and pecked him on the lips before letting go. There was a soft noise as damp membranes met and parted.
Startled by a kiss like something kids would do, he snapped back to himself and glanced at the rearview mirror.
Myungsoon was looking elsewhere, face smooth. He didn’t think that meant he’d missed it.
He knew better—he was just being tactful. Jaeha’s ears warmed and then cooled.
Whatever happened in the back seat, flustering in front of Taegun’s men wouldn’t be good—for him or for Taegun.
Among alphas, the world ran vertical, and Taegun needed their loyalty; he had no intention of getting in the way.
The people were different, but he was also a man at the apex of an organization, and he knew it was when small things meshed like this that insubordination was born.
Omega or beta women tended to think horizontally and rationally; if you explained in terms of reason and principle, they listened. Alpha or beta men, not so much.
Among clearly ranked alphas, you often had to press with strength for your words to stick.
That held from the strategy rooms of major conglomerates all the way to the back-street punks. So even if he liked the easy mood here, maybe it was better not to relax completely.
With that thought, he schooled his face in an instant and sat up straight. Next to him, Taegun snorted, as if he knew exactly what was running through his head.
“So damn handsome my dick’s about to drag on the floor.”
“…”
Naturally, Jaeha ignored the near-sexual-harassment level tag-on. Before long, the car slipped into the lanes behind the forest of buildings. He’d known the name of the area but had never actually been.
Jeonggil chattered about the place for a while. He’d said let’s go, but seemed worried that Jaeha had grown up in a chaebol household.
His mother had been a bit particular, sure, but she’d died when he was young, and he actually preferred food out. Unless Mr. Jeong cooked, he rarely ate at home.
It had been the same in college before he studied abroad. All over Gwanak district were cheap student joints, and classmates who didn’t know his background dragged him all over.
So places like this weren’t automatically uncomfortable. He just rarely hit old institutions after he came back.
Either way, the car eased to a stop. Watching Myungsoon drive without even turning the nav on, he realized they were headed to one of their regulars.
He couldn’t help being curious. It felt like a cross-section view into Jang Taegun’s daily life.
And the place they arrived at was this one. They slid into their seats like they’d done it often.
It even felt like they had a designated table. Ordering was easy. The food came fast, and he slipped into the mood without trouble.
Dealing with other alphas had never been hard for him. Dominant alphas were rare in most groups, and even when they weren’t, most people took to him. If they were younger than him, they looked up; if older, they felt proud.
It seemed to be the same with Myungsoon and Jeonggil. With their boss sitting there, arms folded and silent, they played host, offering this and that and drawing him into talk. Visit NovelPing for the full chapter.
He nodded along, asked what he was curious about, and waited for the meat on the grill to cook.
“Looks about done.”
Tongs in hand, Myungsoon flipped the meat. The place was packed; the staff looked run off their feet.
He hadn’t known there was a spot like this tucked behind the towers. Calmly, he lifted his chopsticks, picked up a well-done piece of skirt meat, and put it in his mouth.
Myungsoon beamed.
“Director, does it suit your taste? We’re always at places like this…”
“I like it, too. I’ve been to a few for staff dinners… I heard back-alley grills are rare, but you know your spots, Myungsoon.”
Smiling easily, he answered. Taegun set his shot glass down. A bead of condensation slid off and dropped to the table.
His other hand was still on Jaeha’s knee. He curled his fist and gave that knee a light tap, then smoothed the spot he’d hit and spoke.
“You flirting with your wife at my elbow? I told you he’s balding.”
“It’s not balding, it’s just shaved.”
As if he couldn’t risk a misunderstanding, Myungsoon hunched his big frame and shot back. Jaeha glanced at Taegun, then nodded to Myungsoon.
He meant he wasn’t buying the bald line, but Myungsoon, still aggrieved, added, “I shave it every day like my face. That’s why it’s bare.”
Jaeha wetted his lips, then casually asked what he’d wanted to since before.
“…Team Manager Jang, do you come here often?”
Tipping in the soju Jeonggil poured, Jang Taegun set the glass down and gave him a sidelong look.
They were sitting side by side, but his gaze was a little higher. Even just looking down at him through narrowed eyes was enough to make him antsy.
“Back then.”
“When’s ‘back then’?”
“Curious?”
Jaeha nodded honestly.
This time, when Myungsoon reached to refill Taegun’s glass, Jaeha extended an arm and covered the rim with his palm. The bottle froze midair in Myungsoon’s hand.
With his index finger, Taegun tapped the back of Jaeha’s hand, which was blocking his glass. As if to ask what this was.
“You shouldn’t drink more with your wound not healed yet.”
“Listen to you, nagging.”
Elbow on the table, chin in hand, Taegun gave a small laugh while looking at him. But Jaeha, unusually, wore a firm face.
It wasn’t nagging, it was fact. Only ten days since a big abdominal wound—and he was drinking. He’d wanted to tell him not to have even the first shot, but he’d hesitated to boss him in front of his men.
Seeing that resolute look, Taegun lifted Jaeha’s hand off his glass and laced their fingers together.
Startled, Jaeha looked at him—but now Taegun had turned his head. Sitting on his left, he pressed their joined hands down and said,
“I’m right-handed.”
“Yes. I know.”
He answered with a small nod. He’d known that for a long time. On their wedding day, the hand that took his and slid the ring onto his left hand had been the man’s right.
When he answered simply, Taegun jerked his chin at the grill with that same bored face.
“What are you doing. Feed me. Director’s got my hand and won’t let go.”
…It wasn’t me not letting go.
Thinking that, he still picked up his chopsticks—if the man said feed me, maybe he was hungry. He lifted a well-done piece, blew on it so it wouldn’t burn—and felt eyes.
“……”
“…Uh, um… let’s, uh, have cold noodles. Myungsoon, order some.”
“R-right. Four mul-naeng, please.”
Dodging his eyes all of a sudden, Jeonggil and Myungsoon blurted it out. With the meat still in his chopsticks, Jaeha froze.
[To be continued in Volume 2]