White smoke scattered into the air. The man lowered his hand while holding a cigarette between his lips. A small head resting beneath his waist was slowly moving. Sliding his hand into the soft hair of his young partner, he felt a shiver of pleasure crawl up his spine.
Cold sweat broke out as he held back the sharp, surging sensation of climax. Ah... A sigh-like moan escaped his lips, and a bead of sweat that had formed on the nape of his neck trickled downward.
On Cheon Sejoo’s back, a black tiger bared its teeth savagely, as though it might tear its prey apart at any moment, claws extended. A droplet skimmed over the large front paw inked above his narrow waist compared to his broad shoulders. Finally, plop—the droplet slid over the ridged line of his firm buttocks and hit the floor just as Cheon Sejoo gripped the back of the other’s head and released deep into his throat.
“Haa… haa…”
The man who had just taken in that large cock—Kang Doyoon—looked up at him with reddened eyes, gasping for breath. Cheon Sejoo gently swept the sweat-damp hair from his forehead, brushed his cheek with a faint smile.
“You did well.”
At that offhand compliment, Doyoon giggled and collapsed onto the bed. Chuckling along, Cheon Sejoo ground out the cigarette still between his lips into the ashtray, then cast his gaze to the nightstand beside him. The phone sitting there had been blinking nonstop for some time. When he checked the caller, Cheon Sejoo stared at the name expressionlessly for a long while before finally reaching out to pick it up.
As soon as he pressed the call button, a familiar voice came through the speaker.
— Hyungnim.
Cheon Sejoo, however, did not respond. He stepped forward. As he draped the gown that had been thrown over the sofa onto his shoulders, the roaring tiger on his back vanished without a trace. Loosely tying the belt that trailed on the floor, he headed toward the sitting room.
— Hyungnim, are you awake?
The suite’s sitting room was wrapped in silence. Feeling the rough texture of the carpet beneath his feet, Cheon Sejoo walked over to the coffee bar next to the bathroom. When he glanced at the mug and strapped on his wristwatch, it read 9:00. Saturday, 9 a.m. Not a welcome hour for contact from anyone.
— I’m really sorry, hyungnim…
And especially not from a subordinate calling with that grating “hyungnim” tone. Irritated, Cheon Sejoo didn’t respond. He just turned on the coffee machine. While the espresso brewed from the inserted capsule, he lit another cigarette and brought it to his lips. The sharp smoke clouded his vision. As he looked down at his phone through the haze, the call timer had just passed one minute.
After inhaling hard enough to hollow his cheeks, Cheon Sejoo stubbed out the half-finished cigarette in the ashtray. Clack—he pressed the button to eject the capsule and inserted a new one. At the noise that filtered through the speaker, the man on the other end let out a groaning sound.
— This is really the last time. Please, just help me once more. If anything like this happens again, then I’ll just…
“You must think I’m a complete joke.”
To his sharp remark came an immediate denial—No, of course not, hyungnim. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Cheon Sejoo hung up without listening to the rest of the explanation.
A phone call at this hour—there was nothing else to hear. It wasn’t the first time the office rookie had wiped an accounting file. He’d already done it twice before, and despite getting severely reprimanded both times, here it was again. Looks like the kid needs a real beating to get it together. Cheon Sejoo closed his eyes, feeling weary.
As much as he wanted to pretend not to care, he knew that if he didn’t go, the rookie who caused the mess would get beaten to a pulp. He couldn’t just ignore it. With a quiet sigh, Cheon Sejoo set his phone down and picked up the two mugs of coffee.
When he returned to the bedroom, Doyoon—lying upside down on the bed and gazing out the window—reached a hand toward him. Placing a mug in that smiling, outstretched hand, Cheon Sejoo took a sip from his own and said,
“I have to go.”
“Already?”
At those words, Doyoon lifted his head, disappointment written all over his face. Even though they’d spent several days together after a long time apart, it still wasn’t enough for him.
“Something came up.”
As Cheon Sejoo briefly explained, Doyoon shrugged and mumbled, Can’t be helped then… But his actions said otherwise. Tossing back the cooled espresso in a single gulp, Doyoon got on all fours on the bed and crawled over to Cheon Sejoo. With a pretty smile, he reached for Sejoo’s gown belt and quietly whispered,
“Then… just stay 30 more minutes…”
It was a simple, cheeky seduction. Looking down at him with his cold eyes, Cheon Sejoo eventually let out a snort and climbed onto the bed. His large hands spread Kang Doyoon’s legs.
By the time Cheon Sejoo stepped out of the hotel with damp hair, it was just past 11 a.m. A breeze slipped through the open collar of his shirt. The heat that had climbed to his head now cooled sharply. The season was shifting from summer to winter—a chill wind brushed against his bare skin. As he waited for the car to be brought around, Cheon Sejoo lit a cigarette. With the hand holding the cigarette, he tousled his still-wet hair and picked up his phone.
32 missed calls. The screen was filled with signs of someone persistently trying to reach him. And almost two hours had passed since he last hung up without a word. As if to show they hadn’t given up, another call came in immediately. It was the same caller as before.
— Hyungnim! Please!
The pleading voice came through the moment he answered. Not wanting to hear another word, Cheon Sejoo simply muttered, “I’m coming,” with the cigarette still in his mouth and hung up again.
“Sir, your car is ready.”
As Cheon Sejoo rubbed his eyes from fatigue, the valet approached. A white Lamborghini was now parked in front of him. It took him a moment to register that this was the new car he’d just replaced. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, handed the valet a 50,000-won bill, and got into the open driver’s seat.
It wasn’t far from the hotel to the Capital. The white sports car reached its destination in just ten minutes.
Cheon Sejoo parked next to the sidewalk and turned his head. Outside the window stood an old building. A few men stood near the glass doors, their surfaces marked by the remnants of old stickers. The men, who had been smoking with bored expressions, quickly recognized the approaching car and hurried toward him.
They lined up and stood at attention, waiting for him to get out. Cheon Sejoo sat in the driver’s seat, watching them silently, then closed his eyes and opened them again. Every time he came to this place, it felt like wearing clothes that didn’t fit. It sat wrong in his stomach. But this was something he couldn’t avoid—something he had to do. Cheon Sejoo donned a cold mask over his indifferent face and opened the car door.
“You’ve arrived, hyungnim!”
Their loud greetings echoed on all sides. Cheon Sejoo stepped out of the car, his suit jacket draped over his left arm, and gave a slight nod. The sheer weight of his presence made the men swallow hard.
Without a word, he brushed past the men and headed straight for the building entrance. It was only once he had gone that the tension drained from the group, and they let out quiet sighs, straightening their backs. But then—halt. Cheon Sejoo suddenly stopped and kicked at a cigarette butt lying next to the door.
“Clean this shit up, you fucking bastards.”
At the low command, the men scrambled and bent over again in a panic. While they scurried around picking up the dozens of cigarette butts scattered near the entrance, Cheon Sejoo let out a sigh and walked inside.
The damp, moldy stench unique to old buildings clung to the air. Sinsa Capital was a place that, by its nature, Cheon Sejoo couldn’t help but hate—it reeked of filth he loathed. Built in the '80s and left untouched by renovations for decades, the place was so poorly maintained that even half-open eyes could see how grimy and dismal it was inside.
And apparently, being old and filthy wasn’t enough anymore. Today, even a large envelope had been dumped in the hallway leading to the elevator. Disgusting assholes, couldn’t even bother to toss it out right away. As that thought passed through his head and he started walking past the trash heap—
He glanced down—and stopped.
What he’d thought was just some black lump was actually a person curled up in a black hoodie.
“….”
A slim jawline peeked through long hair. The child’s face was pale and stiff, and the look they gave Cheon Sejoo was so hostile, it could only be described as a glare.
In that fleeting moment when his gaze met that pretty child’s eyes, Cheon Sejoo could already guess the situation. Their parents had probably borrowed a large sum of money from this place. The kid was most likely waiting for the parents who had been dragged upstairs.
Tsk. He clicked his tongue and furrowed his brows. There were so many worthless parents in this world. But it wasn’t his concern. Without another thought, Cheon Sejoo stepped past the child and rode the elevator to the third floor.
Not a single ant could be seen in the hallway. The silence reminded him that he’d been dragged here on a weekend when everyone else was off. Scowling, he shoved open the office door with a kick. At the loud rattle, a few men who’d been dozing in their chairs flinched up in shock and raised their heads.
“Hyungnim! You’re here!”
At the loathsome title, Cheon Sejoo’s brow twitched. He didn’t respond. Instead, he scanned the inside of the office. Since it was Saturday, most desks were empty. Only the field agents who worked around the clock were there, lounging on the sofa and holding down the fort.
But the place was a dump. Snack bags and beer cans littered the tables. Someone was still sleeping on the couch. It was a damn pigsty.
Cheon Sejoo’s irritation surged, and he stormed over to the couch and kicked it hard.
Thud. The guy jolted awake with a cry. Cheon Sejoo’s cold voice followed immediately.
“You think this is your fucking house? If you’re gonna sleep here, pay rent, asshole.”
“Ah, hyungnim! You’re here!”
“And clean this shit up. This a goddamn pigpen? Should I pick a day and butcher you all?”
The office erupted at Cheon Sejoo’s wrath. The men jumped to their feet, bowing and scrambling to tidy up.
Wanting to get out of the filth as fast as possible, Cheon Sejoo ignored them and made his way to the back of the office. But the partitioned-off accounting room was empty. Only the computer he’d have to fix was left running, alone. His clean-cut brow furrowed.
There was a reason Cheon Sejoo, the organization’s fixer, had ended up playing the role of a loan company boss. The backstory was simple: Three months ago, there had been a huge brawl among the members inside Sinsa Capital, and the timid civilian employees who witnessed the bloodbath had all quit at once. The chaos reached the ears of the organization’s heir, Shin Goyeon, and since someone needed to bring the place under control, they called in Cheon Sejoo.
The two members responsible for starting the fight were mercilessly dealt with by Cheon Sejoo. Blood was spilled inside the office, and once the place calmed down, he began recruiting new staff.
That’s when the real problem began. Somehow, word had spread, and they couldn’t find a single person willing to do accounting. Even after a week, the empty desk remained empty. So in the end, Cheon Sejoo picked a few of the newly inducted younger members who seemed somewhat capable and had them handle the work temporarily.
The one who’d messed up this time was one of them. He’d seemed smart, so Sejoo gave him charge of the accounting. But the problem was, the kid lacked thoroughness and kept making mistakes. And unfortunately, within Sinsa Capital, the only one currently able to clean up those mistakes… was Cheon Sejoo himself.
So where the hell did the guy who dragged me here to clean up his shit run off to? With a sigh of frustration, Cheon Sejoo raised his voice.
“Where’s the rookie?”
No one answered.
Cheon Sejoo narrowed his eyes and scanned past the partition. He could see the big guys elbowing each other, trying to pass the responsibility around. Clearly, something had happened here that they didn’t want to tell him.
Ha. Letting out a bitter exhale, Cheon Sejoo sat on the desk and massaged his throbbing forehead. He rubbed one side of his temple—hidden under his hair—until it turned reddish. Only after repeating this for a while did he ask another question. Now that he thought about it, there was someone else who should’ve been here.
“Did Moon Sunhyuk go home?”
“No, he’s still here.”
“Then where is he?”
“Uh, he just stepped outside, for a bit…”
Moon Sunhyuk was originally part of the enforcement team—one of Sejoo’s direct subordinates who would slit his own throat if ordered to.
Just yesterday, he’d said he’d be here all day Saturday. And now he wasn’t at his post. It was out of character. As Cheon Sejoo’s suspicions began to grow—
The door opened, and Moon Sunhyuk entered, hands wrapped in a paper towel as if he’d just washed them. His hair was trimmed short, and his physique was massive—larger than anyone else in the room. He was at least half a head taller than Cheon Sejoo. The moment he spotted Sejoo, he approached and bowed deeply.
“You’re here.”
“……”
Cheon Sejoo said nothing and looked down. Beneath the paper towel, and even on his shirt sleeve, traces of water remained. Knowing Sunhyuk’s obsessively clean habits, Sejoo instantly pieced together what had happened here before his arrival.
His tightly closed lips curved slightly to one side. As he clenched his jaw, the line of his jaw stood out sharply, a blue vein rising along his neck. Noticing the other man’s gaze shift toward his nape, Cheon Sejoo raised a hand to touch the trace of sex left there by Kang Doyoon. Then, in a low voice, he spoke.
“Sunhyuk-ah.”
His emotionless eyes stared at Moon Sunhyuk from beneath his straight eyebrows. Guilt-ridden, Sunhyuk couldn’t meet his gaze. As soon as he bowed his head low, Sejoo’s cold fingers tapped lightly against his cheek.
“When the hell are you going to fix your fucking hands?”
The playful tapping stopped the moment the question ended—and became a slap.
Smack.
The sharp sound cracked through the office, freezing the men who had been quietly cleaning. As the frightened glances turned toward him, Cheon Sejoo glared at the still-bowed Moon Sunhyuk.
“What gives you the right to keep laying hands on the kids?”