The sound of the harpsichord vibrated through the air. Dominic sipped his whiskey, a book resting on his thigh, scanning the text. The hail had turned to rain, drumming against the windows, but all that could be heard inside was the sound of the old keyboard.
“Banishment? Be merciful, say ‘death’; For exile hath more terror in his look, Much more than death: do not say ‘banishment.’”
“Hence from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.”
“There is no world without Verona walls, But purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence-banished is banish’d from the world, And world’s exile is death…”
The boy, barely more than a teenager, was screaming. He couldn’t bear to be torn from his love, who was his entire world, and begged for death instead.
“Heaven is here, Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her; But Romeo may not:–more validity, More honourable state, more courtship lives In carrion flies than Romeo: they may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet’s hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; But Romeo may not; he is banished: Flies may do this, but I from this must fly…”
“I can’t stand it.”
Dominic, who had been watching the tear-streaked boy wail, grimaced and slammed the book shut. His body was still burning faintly with fever, and reading the melodramatic howling of a lovesick child was giving him a headache.
Juliet was still in his bedroom. He’d been sleeping for quite a while now—it was nearly time for him to wake. Soon, he would leave.
Dominic puffed on his cigar, lost in thought. It was a simple story. It didn’t need to be complicated.
Except that it was deathly boring.
He let out a sigh and closed his eyes. Just then, a foreign sound blended into the music. A moment later, Dominic slowly turned his head. Juliet was standing beyond the half-open door, looking at him. When their eyes met, Juliet smiled awkwardly, clearly embarrassed.
“I’m interrupting.”
He kept glancing away, maybe thinking he'd shown an unseemly face to a man like Dominic. His clothes were wrinkled and messy, and he had clearly tried to fix them, though not successfully. He fidgeted with his belt, visibly uncomfortable, and took advantage of a pause in the music to speak.
“I’m sorry for the trouble. Thank you for today. I won’t forget your kindness.”
Dominic just stared as Juliet rattled off his polite, well-measured lines—neither too rushed nor too slow. Seemingly thrown off by Dominic’s indifference and the awkward tension, Juliet spoke again.
“Well, I’ll be going now…”
Dominic abruptly asked, just as Juliet was about to bow and excuse himself.
“Are you going to be alright?”
“Excuse me?”
When Juliet looked back, confused, Dominic simply turned to him and continued, “If you go out looking like that, everyone will think you slept with me.”
Juliet froze for a second at the flat tone—somewhere between a warning and a joke—but then smiled, brushing it off.
“Well, it’s not true. I’ll be fine.”
Dominic stared at him, expression blank. Hadn’t he intended to send Juliet away the moment he regained consciousness? A voice stirred in the back of his mind, but he didn’t listen. His gaze stayed locked on Juliet’s face.
Silence fell between them. Juliet looked uncertain, and Dominic slowly swung his legs down off the ottoman. He picked up the remote and pressed a button. The music cut off sharply, plunging the room into silence.
Straightening his posture, Dominic turned to face him. Even from several steps away, Juliet looked tense.
A man over two meters tall was already intimidating—but Dominic’s shoulders were nearly twice as broad as Juliet’s, his chest much heavier. Anyone would react like Juliet did, standing opposite such a man.
Dominic watched him hold his breath and slowly parted his lips.
“How’s your body?”
“…Excuse me?”
Juliet thought he’d misheard the voice—it was lower than ever. Dominic repeated, calm and quiet.
“Did you get enough rest? How’s your body?”
“Ah, yes.”
Juliet smiled, catching up to the moment.
“I rested well, thanks to you. The bed was very comfortable.”
He said it lightly. Dominic, matching the tone, replied smoothly.
“So your head must be clear. No dizziness.”
“Yes, very clear.”
Dominic narrowed his eyes as Juliet answered too readily, not grasping the subtext.
“Then you’re good to play a game, right?”
“…Excuse me?”
Juliet repeated the question, blinking. The déjà vu hit him a second later. This was exactly the reverse of what he had said to Dominic before. Juliet let out a short, incredulous laugh.
“Chess, you mean?”
Dominic leaned forward suddenly. Juliet flinched and stepped back on instinct. With a sneer shadowing his face, Dominic whispered:
“Darling, what else would I mean?”
Juliet’s eyes widened. Darling? No one—absolutely no one—could have seen that coming. Still stunned, he heard Dominic say, “Follow me.”
Then, back to his usual impassive expression, Dominic turned and walked off. Juliet, blinking, scrambled to follow.
As always, they sat across from each other in the game room. The only sound was the ticking of the wall clock.
The match was intense. Juliet had managed a lucky win the day before, but he couldn’t relax. If he didn’t win again today, it was all over. Everything he’d worked for would mean nothing. Every move felt like it cost him something.
Juliet’s brow was furrowed in deep focus, eyes fixed on the board. Dominic, by contrast, leaned his chin on one hand, quietly studying Juliet’s face. He didn’t care about the outcome. Even if he lost, he still had one more game left. That detachment allowed him to drift in thought, for example…
“Mr. Miller.”
Juliet’s voice called him back. He’d moved his bishop, abandoning defense to go on the offensive. Dominic blinked at the board, having been deep in thought.
“Are you alright?”
“What?”
The question annoyed him. Dominic frowned.
“What do you mean, ‘alright’?”
Juliet hesitated at Dominic’s slow, deliberate tone—but smiled, brushing it away.
“No, nothing. I was mistaken. Sorry.”
A light nod followed, as if to say it was Dominic’s move.
Dominic stared at him for a moment longer before looking at the board. If this kept up, Juliet would lose. There was a clever move he could use to flip the game—but would he think of it?
Was he really putting everything into this game?
Of course he was. He’d shown up in a storm. He’d been bleeding.
That answer came easily. But another question followed.
Why?
A partnership at the firm? A raise? There were plenty of reasons.
But Dominic had seen it—that moment. Brief, almost imperceptible. That yawning emptiness, buried deep beneath Juliet’s polite and sociable exterior.
A sameness.
The real Juliet.
Wouldn’t you like to try a new experience?
The memory came back with a twist in Dominic’s gut. That question had stayed with him. Juliet had asked it with full awareness. Because he’d seen it, too. The same thing.
But he couldn’t possibly know the kind of thirst Dominic lived with.
He couldn’t. He was a Gamma.
And yet—that same heavy, suffocating boredom...
For some reason, he, and that man, perhaps—no, definitely...
He would live like this for the rest of his life, just dwelling on how boring life is.
At that moment, their eyes met—and everything stopped. Violet eyes, so dark they were nearly black, stared intently at Juliet. The sweet scent thickened in the air around them, but Juliet didn’t notice. He was focused only on the man’s eyes, glinting faintly with gold.
Was it just his personality, or was there something deliberate behind all of it?
He felt as though he finally knew the answer to a question he’d once asked himself.
And now, it was Dominic’s turn to peel back this man’s shell.
“Juliet.”
Dominic whispered his name, voice low.
“Yes, Mr. Miller.”
Juliet responded immediately, almost like he’d been waiting for it. Dominic narrowed his long eyes and spoke.
“Is it fun?”
“Excuse me?”
Juliet blinked, confused by the mocking question. Dominic, still staring at him, asked again in the same sarcastic tone:
“Is it fun, this game?”
“Ah… yes…”
Juliet answered with his usual polite smile.
“It’s fun.”
“Is it?”
Dominic frowned at the easy response. And then, for once, his tone turned serious, drawing tension from Juliet’s face.
“That’s a problem. I’m not enjoying it at all.”
“Pardon?”
Juliet looked startled once again. Dominic let him sit with that and, unhurried, took out a cigar from the case, clipped the tip, and lit it. Juliet waited silently through the entire sequence of gestures. Only after Dominic had taken a long drag and exhaled the smoke did he finally speak.
“Juliet.”
“Yes.”
Juliet answered again, promptly. Dominic brought the cigar to his lips and asked,
“Are you satisfied with your life right now?”
Juliet blinked at the calm tone. The question caught him off guard. He paused, as though carefully selecting his words.
“What do you mean?”
Juliet feigned ignorance, but Dominic wasn’t fooled.
“You said it yourself earlier, didn’t you? That you’re bored. Yeah, well—I’m bored, too. The game, my life… I’m sick of all of it.”
He let the words fall out all at once and locked eyes with Juliet.
“So what about you?”
Juliet tilted his head slightly. Dominic pressed on, unfazed by his evasive posture.
“I’m asking you. What about you?”
“What about me, what?”
Juliet kept playing dumb. If Dominic had even the slightest doubt, he might’ve second-guessed himself. Maybe I was wrong, he could have thought.
But he didn’t. He never had. Not this time either. Dominic asked him directly, cutting through the deflection:
“Be honest. Aren’t you just as sick of this game as I am? Bored out of your mind right now?”
Juliet raised his hands in mock surprise.
“Of course not. Absolutely not.”
He tried to play innocent, but he failed. The reaction was too much—too overacted. It landed more like a confession. Dominic let out a quiet laugh.
“Alright. I’ll take it as that.”
He brushed aside the obvious lie with a short, flat laugh. Juliet went silent again.
The clock’s minute hand ticked forward. The soft mechanical click echoed in the quiet. Juliet looked thoughtful, his eyes fixed on a distant wall. After a while, he let out a long sigh and spoke.
“So what you’re saying is… you want me to entertain you?”
“Yes. Now you get it.”
“What about the chess?”
Juliet frowned. His expression twisted in irritation.
“What happens to the game? It’s not over yet.”
It was an important match—the outcome tied directly to whether or not Dominic would transfer to Juliet’s law firm. It hadn’t been decided yet, but Dominic was already brushing it off as boring and about to discard the rules.
But Dominic Miller was the one who set the rules here. As expected, he only sat back, exhaling cigar smoke with his usual arrogance.
The gesture alone made it clear how little regard he had for Juliet’s protest. But Juliet wasn’t about to back down.
“Tell me first how you’re settling the game. I want a clear answer.”
Dominic stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze.
He looked at the chessboard and reached out, placing his index finger on the cross atop his king.
Juliet watched in surprise.
Dominic slowly tipped the king over with a light push.
Then, eyes on Juliet’s stunned face, he said:
“Checkmate.”
It was, in a word, a surrender. He probably could’ve won the match. Had he done so, Juliet would have lost his third game—there would be no reason to meet again.
But Dominic Miller had just forfeited the match.
How was this supposed to be interpreted?
Juliet was torn between confusion and disbelief. He stared at Dominic, blankly. Dominic narrowed his eyes.
Unusually, he added a word—for Juliet, who hadn’t yet grasped the situation.
“Now, it’s your turn.”
……
He’d surrendered the match. In return, he was demanding Juliet’s next move—whatever that meant.
Dominic waited, watching him look down at the fallen king. He waited, fully confident the man wouldn’t run. He had plenty of time to spare—and giving up one match cost him nothing.
Just as Dominic lifted his hand for another drag of his cigar, Juliet moved.
And Dominic froze.
Juliet was undressing, stripping off one piece of clothing after another.
One, two—fabric rustled as it dropped to the floor in the quiet room. Then Juliet brought his fingers to his collar and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Dominic let out a dry scoff.
“What do you think you’re doing? You think sex is going to be a new experience for me?”
His voice was layered with sarcasm. But the man in front of him—already fully nude—smiled calmly and said,
“Of course. Because I’m a Gamma.”
Juliet was standing tall now, entirely exposed. He didn’t even try to cover himself. His back straight, he faced Dominic unflinchingly. The line of his shoulders flowed smoothly from his long neck. His chest was slim but lean, with faint muscle definition, and his nipples were slightly flushed—perhaps from residual embarrassment.
But he walked forward anyway, boldly, without hiding a thing, fully aware of Dominic’s unabashed gaze.
Dominic watched, silently, as Juliet’s hand touched his shoulder.
And then, like a butterfly, Juliet lowered himself, naked, onto Dominic’s thigh.