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Okayyyy so am I getting chocolate cereal or oats this time… hmmm…
Gi-hun stood in the cereal aisle of his neighbourhood supermarket, debating internally about which to get. Whenever he went grocery shopping nowadays, his sweet tooth and his concerns about health left him constantly stuck between two options.
At only twenty-six, it wasn’t as if he had to stick to a strict diet. Still, he liked to set a good example for the little tots he took care of at Sunshine Daycare. Even if they were too young to question what he ate, they looked up to him, and he didn’t take that lightly.
One hand rested casually on the handle of his trolley as he scanned the shelves, as indecisive as ever. After a moment spent debating internally, Gi-hun exhaled and reached for both options. Hey, he reasoned to himself, life was all about balance.
Dropping the boxes into the trolley with a quiet thud, Gi-hun hummed in satisfaction before pushing it down the aisle. Next up, milk, he thought idly, crossing cereal off his list. He was still scanning what else he needed when he turned the corner and pushed his trolley straight into someone.
Gi-hun startled at the not-so-gentle impact, his list and pen slipping from his hands. Oh shit, he thought frantically, relieved that the guy he’d hit hadn’t lost his balance and crashed to the floor. Gi-hun would’ve beaten himself up about that for weeks.
Apologies spilled out in a rush as he hurried toward the poor man. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where-”
When he caught a glimpse of the man’s face, the words died in his throat. There, standing in front of him in Gi-hun’s dingy little neighbourhood supermarket, of all places, was the most handsome man he’d ever seen.
If he hadn’t literally collided with him, Gi-hun wouldn’t have spared the man a second glance; he was dressed so unremarkably. A cap pulled low, a simple black jacket over a white shirt, jeans and sneakers, nothing fancy. But with a face like that, he didn’t need to try.
The man was intensely masculine; his sharp features set in a calm and unreadable expression. Thick-rimmed glasses sat neatly on the high bridge of his nose, framing dark, piercing eyes that regarded Gi-hun with a steady focus. Under his plain clothes, he was broad and obviously well-built, drawing a flush to Gi-hun’s cheeks.
Even though the man was clearly over a decade older, he was so exactly Gi-hun’s type that he felt his heart race as they held eye contact. He couldn’t help but notice the subtle gleam of interest in the man’s eyes too.
But then the man startled, just barely, something Gi-hun only caught because they were still looking straight at each other. Gi-hun’s eyes were drawn to the man’s left hand. It was under his jacket, gripping something tucked into the waistband of his jeans, as though he’d been in the middle of adjusting or hiding it when he was hit by the trolley.
Gi-hun blinked and the man had already let go of whatever it was, his jacket settling back into place. But that fraction of a second was enough.
Although he’d never seen one in real life, Gi-hun was sure of what he saw in the waistband of the man’s jeans.
The unmistakable handle of a gun.
The whole world seemed to freeze in that moment, in a completely different way from how it had when they first made eye contact. It felt as if Gi-hun’s body went utterly still, as if his heart had stopped, as if his blood had frozen in his veins. There was a scream lodged in his throat, but it couldn’t break free.
The man’s gaze was dark, and his blank expression did nothing to ease the fear rising in Gi-hun’s chest. He knew, with a sick certainty, that the man was aware Gi-hun had seen the gun. But as Gi-hun stood there, paralysed, the man did nothing. He simply took his time taking him in, gaze sweeping Gi-hun from head to toe, lingering the longest on his face.
Gi-hun was saved from deciding what to do when a scream suddenly cut through the air.
It came from somewhere deeper in the supermarket, loud enough to slice cleanly through the quiet, everyday hum of people getting their groceries. The sound shifted everything at once, the normalcy of the space cracking open in an instant.
Gi-hun flinched in surprise, and that was what finally broke the strange bubble the pair had been in. In a flash, the other man was moving, brushing past Gi-hun, so close he caught the faint scent of his cologne. He didn’t look back, didn’t acknowledge the scream or the growing noise around them. He just walked, composed and unhurried, before disappearing down the aisle as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Gi-hun remained frozen in place for a moment longer, his heart pounding as he stared at where the man had disappeared. His mind struggled to catch up with what he’d just seen. But he didn’t have time to piece things together as another shout rang out, along with hurried footsteps and voices rising in confusion and alarm.
On instinct, Gi-hun moved toward the source of the noise. The fear he’d felt earlier was gone, replaced by a sort of terrible dread. Somehow, his body already knew what he’d find up ahead, before his mind did.
The noise led him to the seafood section of the supermarket, where a small crowd had begun to gather around something on the floor, between the tanks filled with live fish. Among them, Gi-hun saw parents leading their children away, adults covering their mouths in shock as they whispered hurriedly to each other, others recording with their smartphones.
A member of staff was trying, in vain, to clear the area, but Gi-hun paid her no mind as he pushed forward. Between the shoulders of the people in front of him, he caught a glimpse of what lay on the floor; a middle-aged man, crumpled, too still, too unnatural. A dark pool of blood spread slowly beneath him, stark against the white tiles.
Even after seeing a dead body for the first time in his life, somehow, Gi-hun wouldn’t say that he felt surprised. But there was a roaring in his ears, a high-pitched ringing that drowned out the cacophony around him.
Afterwards, Gi-hun couldn’t recall turning around and walking away. His feet carried him past his trolley with his unpurchased groceries and straight out through the automatic doors. He’d walked the short distance back home, but he didn’t remember any of it. All he knew was that, when he came to, he was back in the safety of his apartment.
Gi-hun spent the rest of the day dissociating, going through the motions, watching TV without absorbing a single thing. Without groceries, he ate a packet of ramen that night for dinner. As he stared into the broth, his mind drifted from the sight of the lifeless body to the man he’d run into, the weapon concealed beneath his clothes.
Gi-hun knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would remember the murderer’s beautiful face until the day he died.
---
It was wonderfully strange how well the human mind could compartmentalise.
Although Gi-hun had spent the whole of yesterday in a mild state of shock, today he was laughing and smiling with the toddlers at Sunshine Daycare. As soon as he stepped one foot into the establishment, the dead body he’d seen the day before had faded from his mind.
He lost himself in the gruelling task of taking care of twelve children under five; feeding them, cleaning up after them, putting them to sleep, arts and crafts, reading them stories, diffusing little toddler fights. Gi-hun’s friends often said they couldn’t imagine doing what he did, but even after changing the fifth diaper of the day, he couldn’t imagine doing anything different.
That wasn’t to say that when all the parents finally arrived one by one to pick up their children, Gi-hun wasn’t profoundly relieved. He loved them, all of them, but eight to twelve hours every weekday was more than enough quality time for him, thank you very much.
When little So-young, always the last to leave thanks to her single mother working late almost daily, finally went home, Gi-hun couldn’t help but collapse onto the floor of the daycare. Mondays were always the most tiring, and his colleague Hyun-ju always left early to pick up her girlfriend from work. Gi-hun never minded staying back; unlike Hyun-ju, he didn’t have anyone waiting for him.
He was still on his back, catching his breath, when he heard the sound of the daycare’s front door opening and closing. Bolting upright, Gi-hun turned toward the sound just in time to see a man stroll in as if he had every right to be there.
Didn’t I lock the door? Gi-hun wondered absently as he hurried to his feet.
“Uh, good evening, ahjussi,” Gi-hun greeted politely, bowing slightly in the man’s direction. “I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place. This is a daycare for children, and we’re closed.”
“No, I’m definitely in the right place,” the man’s deep voice answered casually. He didn’t look at Gi-hun even once, instead walking around the brightly coloured foyer, scanning the notice boards with his face turned away. “You’re Seong Gi-hun, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes,” Gi-hun answered uneasily. “Can I help you?”
The man hummed absently at the question, picking up a pamphlet from the stand next to the reception and flipping through it idly. Gi-hun squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but he wore a cap, his head angled down.
Still, there was something familiar about him… “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Gi-hun asked.
“No, not really,” the man finally replied, setting the brochure down before turning to face him. “But I know you.”
One glance at the man’s face and Gi-hun’s confusion gave way to abject terror. Where he’d frozen under this man’s gaze yesterday in the supermarket, his limbs finally cooperated today and bolted. Without thinking, Gi-hun ran for the entrance.
But the man was closer.
Instead of reaching the doorknob, Gi-hun ran straight into his outstretched arm. Caught, he was half-spun until his back collided with the man’s front, held fast by an arm that felt like iron. Gi-hun’s attempt to scream was cut short by a hand clamping over his mouth.
Before Gi-hun could even struggle, he felt lips brush his right ear. The contact made him shiver violently. “Calm down, Gi-hun,” came a stern voice. “I’m not here to hurt you, unless you make me.”
The threat made Gi-hun go limp in the man’s hold. His heart pounded, his hands shook where they clutched at the arms holding him. Maybe it was the fear making him imagine things, but Gi-hun could’ve sworn he felt the man inhale deeply near his hairline, as if he was taking in his scent.
“That’s it, relax,” he murmured, almost gentle even as his grip remained unyielding. “I’m just here to talk, that’s all. I promise.”
After what felt like an age of nothing but standing there, trapped in the man’s arms, Gi-hun was finally released. Desperate to put distance between them, he flung himself back, his spine hitting the edge of the reception desk hard enough to sting.
They stood staring at each other. Gi-hun was on the edge of a panic attack while the man had his hands in his pockets, just as calm as he’d been in the supermarket. He was dressed similarly to yesterday but without the glasses; nothing to hide his face behind now. Gi-hun felt ridiculous, facing a handsome murderer while in his daycare uniform; a pink polo shirt and yellow apron, of all things.
“Why are you here?” Gi-hun asked, his shaky voice louder than he intended.
The man tilted his head slightly, watching him. “You know why I’m here.”
Gi-hun let out a sharp breath, frustration cutting through the fear for a split second. “Will you stop with this cryptic bullshit and just answer my fucking questions?”
He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. What the fuck am I doing, he wondered, resisting the urge to cower. Gi-hun didn’t even curse in his day-to-day life, afraid it might become a habit he’d slip into in front of the children. But he thinks he could be forgiven considering the circumstances.
Instead of rage, amusement transformed the man’s face. Had Gi-hun been less terrified, he might’ve admired how good it looked on him. “Alright, we can do straightforward.” the man said, giving an indulgent nod.
Then his face went blank. “I’m here, Gi-hun, because you saw me yesterday.” He said, his tone flat.
Gi-hun felt as if his heart literally skipped a beat. “I… I didn’t.” He stammered, the denial coming out too quickly.
The man raised a brow. “Thought you wanted to cut the bullshit.”
“I just saw you, and.. and-”
“You saw me, my gun, and the body,” he interrupted calmly. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
Gi-hun swallowed hard, his fingers curling into his palms. He changed tactics. “I haven’t told anyone. I left before the police arrived.”
“I know.” The that’s why you’re still alive was silent, implied. It turned Gi-hun’s knees weak.
“And I’m not going to tell anyone. Ever.” He said desperately. It was the truth; he hadn’t been planning on it.
The man studied him for a moment, his gaze steady. He didn’t exactly look menacing but Gi-hun wasn’t about to let his guard down. “Are you sure? You seem very afraid of me.”
Gi-hun let out a weak, incredulous breath. “Can you blame me?”
“Afraid enough to go to the police for help? Or your friends?” the man asked idly, as if he was suggesting places to get dinner later.
“No, no, I promise, I won’t,” Gi-hun rushed out. “I’d… I’d just be putting my friends in danger if I told them.”
“Yes, you would be,” the man nodded once. Even having known it, his casual confirmation that he’d hurt his friends made Gi-hun’s blood run cold. “And what about the police?”
Gi-hun shook his head quickly, thinking fast. “Look, you’re here, so you already know where I work. You probably know where I live too,” he stumbled at the realisation, but forced himself to keep going. “You… you’re watching me. I couldn’t go to the police even if I tried.”
An approving hum left the man. “You’re smart.” That was all he said, but it was enough to confirm Gi-hun’s fears.
“So leave me alone. Please.” he pleaded, his voice small.
The man fell quiet for what felt like an eternity, his considering gaze roaming over Gi-hun. Finally, just when Gi-hun thought he might burst from the tension, he said, “If you ever feel tempted to report what you saw, trust me when I say the police won’t do anything about it.”
Gi-hun was already nodding frantically when the man added, almost as an afterthought, “I should know. I was one.”
Gi-hun blinked, thrown by the sudden confession. The man looked faintly surprised too, as though he hadn’t meant to let that slip. “You… you were a police officer?”
“A lifetime ago.” the man replied lightly after a brief pause, shrugging as if it were nothing, as if it was even remotely a good idea to tell Gi-hun that.
“And now you’re, what? A hitman or something?” Gi-hun scoffed, the whole situation was absurd. When the man’s expression didn’t change, the chilling truth settled in. “You are. You’re a fucking assassin.”
The man’s lips curved faintly. “You know, for a daycare teacher, you have quite a mouth on you.” His gaze dropped, lingering on the mouth in question.
Gi-hun felt heat creep up his neck at the obvious ogling, but he willed himself to ignore it. This wasn’t the time for teasing, what the hell was wrong with this guy? “How could you go from protecting people to killing them for money?” he demanded.
The man let out a quiet breath, disappointment slipping through. “Just when I called you smart…” He shook his head. “You think the police protect people? That people are worth protecting?”
He studied Gi-hun’s face, reading the answer there before letting out a quiet scoff. “You’re not a child anymore. Isn’t it time to grow up?”
Gi-hun’s hands clenched at his sides. He expected no better from an assassin who disregards human life, but to be treated as if Gi-hun was the one in the wrong… “Why did you kill that man? What did he do?”
“That’s none of your concern.” The man’s tone cooled, his face going still.
“You killed him in public, in broad daylight!” Gi-hun shot back, fear taking a backseat to outrage.
“No, it shouldn’t have happened that way. Things went wrong, he ran. I had to take him out in the middle of a fucking supermarket,” He exhaled, clearly irritated, as if Gi-hun were judging his skills instead of his morality. “Sloppy. Not my best work.”
“Not your best work?” Gi-hun repeated, staring at him in disbelief. Does he know he’s talking about a person? “You’re sick.”
“We all have our flaws,” the man said, brushing off Gi-hun’s incredulous reaction. His gaze dragged over Gi-hun, slow and assessing. “I’ve been trying to find yours. Believing in fairy tales is one.” Gi-hun flushed at the jab. “But other than that, you seem almost perfect.”
Unsettled, Gi-hun shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man hummed before he spoke. “Seong Gi-hun, twenty-six, only child. Born and raised in the gutters of Ssangmun-dong, been dirt poor all your life,” He sounded like he was reading from a file. “Father drank away whatever little he had, gambled the rest, then ran off. Left you and your elderly mother to pick up the pieces.”
Gi-hun stiffened. The room felt too small all of a sudden, the air too thin, as this dangerous stranger recited his life story.
“You finished high school, at least,” he continued. “But you couldn’t afford anything after that, so you worked whatever you could find; convenience stores, delivery, construction, anything that paid enough to keep the lights on.”
His eyes never left Gi-hun’s face. He’d never felt this exposed before. “You pulled yourself and your mother out of the gutter, bit by bit, until you finally landed a stable job here. With no qualifications, no nothing. But you made enough to take care of her, all on your own, up until she died a couple years ago.”
Gi-hun didn’t even notice when the man took several steps closer, his words dragging up painful memories that wouldn’t stop replaying in his mind. “I bet you’re the golden example back in Ssangmun-dong,” the man chuckled. “The perfect boy. Everyone wondering how you did it.”
The mocking tone snapped Gi-hun out of it, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You want to know how?” he seethed. “Because of people, that’s how. People kept giving me a chance, even though they didn’t have to, even though God knows I didn’t give them a reason to. That’s how I got here, that’s how I did it.”
The man regarded him like he was something on display, an anomaly to be studied. It was aggravating. “You think that makes them good?”
“People are good,” Gi-hun insisted, trying to swallow down the frustrated tears building in the back of his throat. “At their core, they are. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”
For a moment, the man only stared at him. There was wonder in his expression, but not the good kind; it was tinged with condescension. Then, he said quietly, “You really believe that.”
Gi-hun held his gaze, held his ground. “Yes. I do.”
The man stepped closer, and only then did Gi-hun realise how little space remained between them. He tried to step away, but the counter pressed hard into his back. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do but bear the man’s suffocating presence.
“I’ve seen what people are,” the man in front of him said, voice low. His gaze was dark and piercing. “Men who torture and stream it online for other sick fucks to get off to. Warmongers who make millions suffer, and enjoy it. Parents who traffic their own children. The things people do to children, younger than the ones you care for here…”
Gi-hun’s breath hitched, but he couldn’t look away from those intense eyes. They held him captive.
“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” the man went on, his face hard, unflinching. “If people were truly good at heart, would my job even exist? Would there be a need for someone like me? And would there be people worth killing in the first place?”
The silence that followed was so heavy Gi-hun could hardly breathe. Their proximity didn’t help, standing so close their breaths mingled. It was too dark in the room, the sun long gone, and Gi-hun hadn’t had the chance to turn the lights on before the man arrived. But he could see him, and in that moment, he was all Gi-hun could see.
When Gi-hun finally spoke, his voice didn’t waver. “The worst of us don’t define everyone. Just because all that exists, doesn’t mean that’s all there is. With everything you said you’ve seen, shouldn’t you know that?”
Even though the man didn’t move, his expression shifted slightly. The earlier darkness eased, replaced by something like surprise, or quiet awe.
At his reaction, Gi-hun couldn’t help but return the earlier barb. “Maybe it’s not me who needs to grow up.” he said softly.
Nothing but their quiet breathing filled the daycare. Not even the sound of the outside world, of nightlife slowly waking up, reached the bubble they were trapped in. Once again, Gi-hun saw the man’s gaze drop to his lips and linger there, and suddenly it grew even harder to breathe.
He dug his nails into his palms, forcing himself to keep his eyes away from the man’s thin, perfectly-shaped mouth. He’s dangerous, he’s a murderer, don’t even think about it, Gi-hun, he told himself, gripping onto the knowledge desperately.
Why did he even need the reminder? What’s wrong with him?
His internal war was blessedly interrupted when the man murmured at last, “You’re something else, Seong Gi-hun.”
Pulling away abruptly, the man turned on his heel and strolled back toward the entrance, finally allowing Gi-hun to draw a steadier breath. The man’s words had left him reeling, more confused than ever.
But the man clearly wasn’t done doing Gi-hun’s head in. Just before he opened the door, he paused and glanced back. “I’ll be watching you, beautiful.”
Then he disappeared into the night, leaving Gi-hun alone in the darkness of the foyer, sweat still cooling on his skin. It was shameful to admit, but out of everything the man had told him, all those horrifying truths… it was the final word he’d spoken that haunted Gi-hun the most after he was gone.
---
If Gi-hun thought he could return to his life as if nothing had happened, he was severely wrong.
Sure, his days continued the same as always. At work, he fed children, wiped little hands and faces, read the same picture books again and again. He cleaned paint off tables, broke up fights over toys, folded tiny nap mats at the end of every shift. He laughed with parents, with Hyun-ju, held conversations he didn’t remember afterwards.
At home, he rested, watched television, scrolled on his phone, read books, cooked, ate, all the usual day-to-day things. But now, threaded through every routine, was an unshakeable feeling that he was being watched, like he was never alone, no matter where he was.
Sometimes Gi-hun could swear things weren’t where he left them. He’d come back to his apartment and stand still in the doorway for a long time, listening, convinced someone had been there while he was out. Another time, his front door chain was undone when he clearly remembered locking it. He checked multiple times after that.
He wasn’t spared at work either. On the train, Gi-hun would feel eyes on his back, his eyes. He’d turn fast, scanning unfamiliar faces, finding nothing. The same feeling would return through the daycare windows and he’d falter mid-sentence, rushing over to check, only to turn back to twelve tiny, bewildered faces blinking up at him.
Even sleep offered no relief. The man followed him there too; that handsome face, that steady voice, those dark eyes that held him in place effortlessly. The way he looked at him as if Gi-hun was the most interesting person in the world. The heat in his gaze when he stared at Gi-hun for too long…
He’d wake up with a jolt, hot and bothered and in desperate need of relief from the ache in his boxers. Sometimes he’d give in to the urge, other times he’d opt for a freezing cold shower. Either way, he’d end up feeling pathetic.
Once, Gi-hun tried to find him. He sat at his kitchen table with his laptop open, determined. The next minute, he shut it down, embarrassed, realising he didn’t know a single thing about the man beyond his face, his previous job, and his current one. He didn’t even know his name. What was Gi-hun supposed to do, dig through endless archives looking for a picture of the man, like they do in films? Get real.
After four weeks of paranoia, shamefully obsessive thoughts and restless nights, Gi-hun decided he’d had enough. Acting as if nothing had happened wasn’t working. So he’d try something else. Maybe he needed noise, and people, something to pull him out of his own head.
Gi-hun decided to go clubbing with his best friend, Jung-bae, something he hadn’t done since his mother died. When he suggested it, Jung-bae called him straight away in the middle of his shift at the auto repair shop.
“What do you mean, let’s go clubbing tonight?” he demanded the moment Gi-hun picked up.
“Gee, annyeong to you too, Jung-bae.” Gi-hun replied, rolling his eyes. He was having his lunch break alone in the staff room while Hyun-ju handled the children.
“Gi-hun, you’ve been refusing to party with me for years,” Jung-bae said, ignoring him. “Every time I invite you, it’s one excuse after another.”
“I just haven’t been feeling it.” Gi-hun mumbled, knowing it was a terrible reason even if it was mostly true.
“Uh-huh,” Jung-bae said, unimpressed. “Haven’t been in the mood for years, huh?”
Gi-hun sighed. “Look, I just really want a distraction right now. I want to get drunk, dance, and have fun with my best friend tonight. Can we please do that?”
“What, you think I’m gonna say no?” Jung-bae laughed. “No chance. I just wanted to make sure it was you texting me and not some alien pretending to be you.”
Gi-hun rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. See you tonight.”
And that’s how Gi-hun found himself sitting at the bar of a Hongdae club at midnight with Jung-bae, watching crowds of people spill across the dance floor. Neon lights, cigarette smoke, music so loud he couldn’t hear his own thoughts… The club was exactly how he remembered.
Thankfully, he still had his clubbing clothes tucked at the very back of his wardrobe. He donned a completely sheer, slightly loose short-sleeved black button-down with nothing underneath, fitted black jeans, white sneakers, and silver accessories he hadn’t worn in years; rings on almost every finger, a silver snake chain catching the light where three buttons were left open. He even had eyeliner on, his curls arranged just right.
Jung-bae looked him up and down over his drink. Leaning in, he shouted straight into Gi-hun’s ear, making him flinch. “Are you trying to get laid tonight or what?”
Honestly, Gi-hun didn’t know. He knew he looked provocative, had known it while dressing, but it hadn’t exactly been his intention.
Or maybe it had been. What better way to drown out the man who kept invading his thoughts than to let someone else take his attention instead? It wouldn’t be hard; nearly every eye in the place had landed on him at some point, and he’d already had to avoid numerous attempts at the eye contact game.
Still, Gi-hun wasn’t sure he had it in him tonight to go through the tedious motions with some random stranger. Not when there was only one man he really wanted. “I don’t know,” he shouted back. “Just going with the flow, for now.”
Jung-bae gave him a look, the one he always wore when he knew there was more to the story. Gi-hun returned it with his usual mind-your-business glare, the one that always earned a chuckle from Jung-bae right before he ignored it completely.
“You said you wanted to get drunk and dance!” Jung-bae yelled, signalling the bartender for another round. “Then let’s fucking do it!”
And that was exactly what they did. By the time Gi-hun found himself in the middle of the dance floor, he’d lost count of how many drinks he’d had. More than pleasantly buzzed, adrenaline running warm under his skin, he let himself move with the music, pressed into shifting bodies and flashing lights.
Jung-bae had joined him but they lost each other in the crowd a while back. Gi-hun wasn’t worried; Jung-bae got along with everyone, especially while tipsy. Eventually, the buzz started to thin so Gi-hun pushed through the crush of bodies toward the bar, dodging wandering hands. He wanted another drink to keep the feeling going.
He just made it to the counter when someone slid in beside him, close enough that their arms brushed. “Hey, cutie.”
Gi-hun glanced up. The man next to him was tall, dressed in a fitted leather jacket, dyed blonde hair styled neatly. He looked like a K-pop idol, hell, he could be one for all Gi-hun knew, he wasn’t exactly up to date with the industry. Fair skin, youthful features, whip-thin; definitely not his type.
Still, even buzzed, Gi-hun wasn’t about to be rude. “Hi.” he said simply, already turning back to the bar.
“I’m Ho-seok,” the man said, leaning in just a fraction closer. “What’s your name?”
“Gi-hun.”
Ho-seok smiled like he’d been given permission to proceed. “Gi-hun,” he repeated, testing it on his tongue. “You here alone?”
“No,” Gi-hun said quickly, polite but firm. “I’m with my friend.”
“Does your friend usually let you wander off like this?” Ho-seok asked, eyes flicking over him. The leering look made Gi-hun’s skin crawl.
Gi-hun let out an awkward laugh, already signalling the bartender again, silently begging to be saved from this conversation. “I’m not wandering off.”
“Looks like you are,” Ho-seok said, stepping in even closer until there was barely any space between them. “Been watching you a while, and I haven’t seen you with anyone.”
Gi-hun fought the urge to grimace. That’s just creepy. “I’m just getting a drink.” he replied evenly, still not looking at him for long.
“I can get it for you,” Ho-seok offered immediately. “Whatever you want, it’s on me.”
“That’s alright,” Gi-hun said, smile still polite, tone steady. “I’m fine.”
Ho-seok didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned closer again, voice dropping. “Are you always this hard to talk to?”
Gi-hun finally looked at him properly then, expression neutral. This guy wasn’t taking the hint, he’d have to be more blunt. “I’m not hard to talk to,” he said. “I’m just not interested. Sorry.”
For a second, Ho-seok blinked, like he’d never been rejected before. Then he laughed it off. “Nah, you don’t mean that.”
Gi-hun frowned. “Yes, I do.” he said, more firmly this time.
Ho-seok’s smile thinned. “Come on,” he said, reaching out and brushing the back of Gi-hun’s hand where it rested on the counter. “Have one drink with me and I’ll leave you alone after, if you want.”
Gi-hun’s gaze flicked down to the hand, then back up. He slipped his arm away as subtly as he could manage, though at this point he had half a mind to swat the man away. “No, thank you.”
Ho-seok’s expression tightened, the charm disappearing. He went quiet for a moment before saying through his teeth, “You’re really something, Gi-hun.”
Those words… The man Gi-hun had been trying to forget all night had said that to him, almost exactly. It made his irritation worse. He exhaled, finally catching the bartender’s attention, shifting half a step away to signal the end of the conversation.
But Ho-seok didn’t leave. He hovered right beside him even after the bartender came over, a persistent pressure that refused to lift.
Annoyed, Gi-hun turned to him the moment the bartender walked off with his order. “Can I help you with something?” he asked, impatience creeping in.
“Yeah,” Ho-seok snapped. “Help me understand why you’re such a frigid bitch.”
Gi-hun let out a sharp scoff, already done with this, turning away without a word. It’d been a while since he’d had to deal with creeps like this. He started to move down the bar to put distance between them, but a hand closed around his wrist and yanked him back.
The irritation cut straight through the alcohol haze. Gi-hun turned and slapped Ho-seok across the face.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, tugging hard, but the grip didn’t loosen. For someone so thin, Ho-seok was annoyingly strong. “Let go!”
“Make me,” Ho-seok murmured, leaning in too close, right in Gi-hun’s face like he was trying to steal a kiss. Gi-hun twisted his head away, disgusted, catching the heavy smell of alcohol on his breath.
“You’re feisty,” Ho-seok continued, voice lower now, sounding pleased with himself. His other hand came up, gripping Gi-hun’s chin, trying to force his face back. “Dressed like that, I knew you would be.”
“Fuck off!” Gi-hun snapped, louder this time, shoving at him with his free hand. He looked around wildly for help. The bar was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, but everyone was too drunk to notice anything outside their own orbit. It felt like shouting into water.
Ho-seok only smiled at Gi-hun’s attempts to get away, like it encouraged him. Panic started to crawl up Gi-hun’s throat.
Then a body forced itself between them. At first, Gi-hun thought it was just someone trying to squeeze through to the bar. The lighting was too dim for him to make out a face. Ho-seok’s grip loosened slightly at the interruption, but not enough for Gi-hun to pull free.
Then a hand clamped down on Ho-seok’s wrist, the one gripping Gi-hun’s face tight.
“Let go of him.” The voice was dangerously calm. At the sound, Gi-hun froze. He couldn’t see him properly, but he knew who he was. Instinctively, without a doubt.
Ho-seok blinked, irritated. “Who the fuck-” The rest of his words died the second he met the man’s gaze. Whatever he saw there made his grip loosen immediately.
But Ho-seok didn’t get the chance to fully let go of Gi-hun before the man shoved him, hard. It sent him stumbling backwards into the bar’s edge, hard enough that glasses rattled and drinks spilled. Ho-seok lost his balance completely, crashing to the floor and dragging a couple of nearby bodies down with him. A few people shouted, more startled than concerned, the moment swallowed whole by the music.
Gi-hun flinched at the impact, heart jolting, but before he could process anything, the man beside him was stepping forward again. He lifted his left fist high like he was about to put it through Ho-seok’s skull.
“No!” Gi-hun grabbed the raised arm with both hands, his fingers tightening around his bicep. At the feel of muscle beneath his grip, Gi-hun knew there was no way he could stop the man alone if he was dead set on pummelling Ho-seok. But the man stilled immediately at his touch, turning his head to look at Gi-hun.
Gi-hun exhaled shakily when their eyes met, finally face to face after a month. He watched the terrifying fury etched across the man’s features recede as he studied Gi-hun, as if reacquainting himself with his face. Gi-hun held his gaze, refusing to look away.
After a moment, the man lowered his arm. Without a word, he reached down and took Gi-hun’s hand, the one Ho-seok had refused to release, and pulled him smoothly through the crowd. Gi-hun stumbled once, trying to glance back at the chaos they’d left behind, but the grip tightened just enough to stop him.
As they stepped out of the club and into the street, the cold hit Gi-hun like a wall of ice. He shivered in his ridiculous get-up, immediately regretting not bringing a jacket. The man immediately drew him in a fraction closer, and Gi-hun stiffened at the proximity.
God, we’re holding hands, he thought. The incident had sobered him up a little, but Gi-hun was still way too drunk to process any of this. Still, he didn’t let go.
They moved down the street, weaving past clubgoers in various states of drunkenness, when the man finally spoke. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low near Gi-hun’s ear.
“I’m fine.” Gi-hun replied, tightly. He’d rather not think about what could’ve happened if he wasn’t being stalked by an assassin. One who apparently saved the people he stalked, for whatever reason.
He wasn’t the only one still coming down from what happened. “You could’ve at least let me land one punch,” the man suddenly complained, heated. “The bastard deserves it.”
Gi-hun glanced at him from the corner of his eye, catching the faint edge of anger still lingering on his face. “You would’ve stopped at one?”
The man didn’t answer, but his mouth tightened in a way that told Gi-hun everything. That’s what I thought, Mr. Violent.
As they got further away from the club, Gi-hun suddenly remembered Jung-bae. He stopped short, tugging at the arm holding him even as the man kept walking. “My friend… I have to-”
“Jung-bae’s fine,” he cut in, steady as ever, guiding him forward. “He passed out at the bar a while ago so I put him in a taxi. He’s on his way home.”
“Oh,” Gi-hun stilled, relief rushing through him. It took a few steps before the words fully sank in. His head snapped towards the other man. “Wait, how the fuck do you know his name and where he lives?”
The man’s expression didn’t change, but Gi-hun caught the hint of smugness anyway. Fury began to rise at the thought of his friends being watched too.
Before he could start cussing him out, the man suddenly stopped walking. “Get in the car, Gi-hun.”
They’d stopped in front of a sleek black two-seater parked at the curb. The man unlocked it, opened the passenger door and guided Gi-hun into the seat, his hand lingering just a second too long before he pulled away. He closed the door and rounded the car.
Gi-hun was speaking before the man could even settle into the driver’s seat. “You’re a stalker, and you’re creepy, and you’re scary, and you should leave me alone.” He aimed for deadly serious and vaguely threatening, but suspected it didn’t land. Gi-hun hoped he wasn’t slurring.
The man barely glanced at him as he started the engine and turned the heat up. “Noted.”
“No, I mean it,” Gi-hun pressed, leaning forward. “Why were you at the club tonight?”
“I told you I’ll be watching you, Gi-hun,” the man said, eyes on the road as he pulled into the street. “Remember?”
I didn’t forget a single thing you said to me. “You weren’t just watching,” Gi-hun argued. Weeks of frustration spilled out. “I know you’ve been in my apartment when I wasn’t there. I know you’ve been at the daycare, and on the train. And now you’re dragging me out of clubs-”
“Would you rather I left you there?” the man cut in, his hands tightening slightly on the wheel. “All alone, after that guy just put his hands on you?”
“Maybe I would!” Gi-hun snapped, too loud in the quiet car. “And don’t expect me to be grateful. You weren’t even supposed to be there!”
The man didn’t reply, but Gi-hun could feel the quiet amusement coming off him, and it only irritated him more. Sure, he’d always been a loud, rowdy drunk, but this was serious.
“Where the fuck are we going anyway?” Gi-hun muttered, squinting through the windshield. Everything was still spinning a little so all he saw was blurry lights, stark against the night sky.
“I’m taking you home,” the man said in a placating tone. “Relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax!” Gi-hun half-yelled. “You creep. You stalker. You, you… murderer. Assassin. Dollar store James Bond!”
That finally got a reaction from the expressionless slab of stone next to him. The man let out an actual bark of laughter, startling the hell out of Gi-hun. “Dollar store James Bond?”
“Yeah,” Gi-hun muttered resentfully, slumping back into his seat, all the fight gone. God, he was exhausted. The night had been a complete waste of time. “I’m calling you that. I don’t even know your name but you know everything about me. It’s not fair.”
Silence settled between them, filled only by the low hum of the engine and the rush of passing cars. Gi-hun turned to his window, watching the city blur past, mostly so he wouldn’t have to look at his oh-so-gallant saviour turned chauffeur.
God, at least turn on the radio or something, he thought, irritation creeping in as the tension stretched on.
After a while, the man spoke. “My name is In-ho.”
Gi-hun’s head snapped toward him, shocked. He never expected to learn the man’s name, and definitely not straight from him. “Huh?”
The man, In-ho apparently, gave a quiet hum as he turned into another street. “You heard me.”
Gi-hun wrinkled his nose despite himself. “But that’s such a common name.” Huh, he thought absently, guess alcohol still gives me zero filters.
In-ho glanced at him, a faint smile on his lips. “What, I’m not allowed to have a common name?”
“I mean… no?” Gi-hun said. “You’re an assassin. You should have a cool name. A unique one.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” In-ho drawled.
Silence fell again before In-ho added out of the blue, “You’re a lot more relaxed tonight. Last time, you literally ran from me.”
Guilty. It wasn’t that Gi-hun wasn’t afraid, sitting in a car with a man who killed for a living. But he found that it’s a lot harder to be scared when you’re ten drinks in. “Yeah, well,” he shrugged, sinking deeper into the seat. “I’m drunk. So don’t get used to it.”
In-ho let out a quiet huff, his gaze flicking toward him briefly before returning to the road.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the creeping pull of sleep, but it took Gi-hun far too long to realise something was off. When it did, he jolted upright. “Wait, where the fuck are we?”
The streets outside were totally unfamiliar. Everything was too clean, too quiet, too expensive. All the buildings stretched way too high for Gi-hun’s neck to comfortably follow and nothing was rundown; they were nowhere near his neighbourhood.
“We’re almost there,” In-ho said, taking a left.
“Almost where?” Gi-hun demanded.
“I told you. Home.”
Gi-hun turned to him sharply as In-ho’s meaning sunk in. “Wait, you mean your home? Not mine?”
In-ho only hummed in answer, one hand steady on the wheel.
Gi-hun’s heart started racing at the thought. Being at work or in a car with this man was one thing. Being in his home, on his turf, with no one else around? When Gi-hun wasn’t completely sober? He felt a shiver ran through him at the thought of what could happen.
“No, no, no, absolutely not,” Gi-hun said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m not going to your place. Take me to my apartment. I know you know where it is.”
In-ho didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Gi-hun pressed, braving a shove to his shoulder. God, it’s like touching a brick. If a brick had insane muscles. “Turn the car around.”
In-ho sighed, finally glancing at him. “Don’t you want to see dollar store James Bond’s house?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “Not many people get to.”
Gi-hun hesitated despite himself. The luxurious buildings they passed now were nothing like the ones Gi-hun had been surrounded by all his life. Even from the outside, everything looked expensive, the kind of place he’d only ever heard about, or seen on TV. He couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity.
His home is the last thing you’re curious about, a rational voice in his head quipped, a little judgementally. He ignored it, staring straight ahead, willing the heat creeping up his neck to fade.
In-ho caught the hesitation immediately. “I’ll take you home in the morning,” he said. “Think of it as an apology. For the stalking.”
Gi-hun shot him a look. “Why should I trust you? You kill for money.”
In-ho shrugged. “I’ve never lied to you, Gi-hun.”
That stopped him short. It was true; as far as Gi-hun knew, In-ho had never lied to him. But that doesn’t mean he’s not lying now, that rational voice persisted.
Still, the thoughts came anyway, quick and uninvited. Why wouldn’t the man send him home in the morning? What would he even need Gi-hun for beyond that? In-ho was an assassin, not a kidnapper. It’s not like he could get a ransom out of him anyway, they both knew that.
Gi-hun let out a slow breath, the fight draining out of him once again. Maybe it was the alcohol making it so easy to give in, or the exhaustion. Or maybe it was the quiet thrill he’d been trying hard to ignore ever since he realised In-ho was right there in front of him, in the club, coming to his rescue like Gi-hun’s very own twisted knight in shining armour.
“Fuck it.” he muttered, leaning back into his seat. His plans for the night, to forget the man sitting right next to him, were already ruined anyway. What else did he have to lose?
---
Drunk or not, Gi-hun knew he’d never forget his first glimpse into the high life.
In-ho pulled up to a towering high-rise that gleamed against the night sky, all glass and light and quiet money. He stepped out, handed the car fob off to a valet without a word, then reached for Gi-hun’s hand. Gi-hun had sobered up enough to question the action in his mind, but still not enough to pull away.
It felt good having a handsome, wealthy man hold his hand. Sue him.
Inside, the building mirrored the wealth outside. It even smelled expensive, somehow. Marble floors polished to a shine, reflecting the lights overhead, staff still awake at this hour, all smiles as if they didn’t have anywhere else to be. In-ho didn’t slow, guiding him straight past the lobby and into an elevator. He didn’t let go of Gi-hun’s hand the entire ride up.
When the doors opened, what Gi-hun saw stopped him in his tracks. They were in the penthouse, he realised. The space was huge, open, dimly lit. It was all dark minimalism with sparse but clearly expensive, eccentric furniture, arranged exactly like a showroom. His gaze went straight to the linear fireplaces running along the left and right walls, twin lines of flame framing the room.
The far wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling glass; beyond it, Seoul’s skyline spilled out in a sea of lights. In front of the magnificent view stretched a wide balcony dotted with chaise lounges and an infinity pool that seemed to bleed into the night sky. It was like a city penthouse mood board brought to life.
But although nothing was out of place, there wasn’t a single sign that someone actually lived there. Abstract art lined the walls here and there instead of photo frames, not a single plant or pet anywhere. There weren’t even any books to give a glimpse into the owner. The place was beautiful, but cold and empty. Fitting, he supposed.
In-ho guided Gi-hun further in and sat him down on a weirdly shaped black couch. Gi-hun grimaced the moment he landed; it wasn’t comfortable at all, stiff like no one had ever actually sat on it.
“Stay there.” In-ho said, turning away. He moved around an equally weird coffee table that looked like it was made out of iron and headed for a built-in bar tucked into the corner of the room. It was brightly lit, lined with bottles that looked more expensive than anything Gi-hun had ever touched. He watched as In-ho pulled out two glasses and poured a hefty amount of amber liquid into both. Whiskey, he guessed, wrinkling his nose.
When In-ho set the glasses down on black marble coasters and took a seat beside him, Gi-hun said dryly, “I don’t like whiskey.” He didn’t reach for the glass.
In-ho shrugged, lifting his own and taking a sip. “You barely drink. Didn’t know what you’d want.”
Gi-hun bristled at the reminder of exactly whose penthouse he was currently in; his crazy, murderous stalker. Before he could come up with a retort, In-ho spoke again.
“You were knocking back a lot of somaek in the club,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice, like he was replaying it in his head. It made Gi-hun’s hackles rise even more. “But I don’t have soju. Or beer.”
“What, not fancy enough for you?” Gi-hun scoffed, eyeing him judgementally. What kind of Korean doesn’t drink soju? Apparently the filthy-rich kind.
In-ho snorted. “I take it you don’t like the place?”
Feeling combative, and still a little tipsy, Gi-hun said snidely, “It’s excessive. I mean, you live alone, right? Do you really need this much space?” He flung his hand out, gesturing at the too-large penthouse before squinting at the far wall. Were those stairs? This place had multiple floors?
In-ho raised an eyebrow. “So sure of yourself… I could be living here with my family.”
Gi-hun let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “No way. You’re not a family man. You’re a dollar store James Bond, remember? I bet you’re always alone, jet-setting everywhere, murdering innocent people so you can afford to pay for space you don’t even need.”
Oh God, that might’ve been a bit much, Gi-hun realised a second too late. In-ho might’ve saved him, but he was still a dangerous, violent killer. Probably not smart to push him like this, not here, not with no one else around. But he couldn’t seem to stop goading the man anyway.
“Besides, you wouldn’t bring me home if you had family here.” Gi-hun continued, immediately regretting it more than his earlier jab. Fuck, the space between them had already been charged, but Gi-hun’s half-acknowledgment of whatever this was only lit it up further.
I knew coming here was a bad idea, he reprimanded himself. His eyes darted around in embarrassment, everywhere but to the man beside him.
But whatever In-ho was feeling, he gave nothing away. He just leaned back, watching Gi-hun over the rim of his glass and seemingly ignoring his last sentence. “I don’t kill innocent people, actually. The people I kill have more in common with that blonde gae-saekki in the club.”
Gi-hun paused, taking that in. Did In-ho only kill people who had done bad things? He didn’t know if that made it better, but it did… change something, if only slightly.
“You still think people are good after that?” In-ho continued curiously, draping his arm along the back of the couch. A thrill ran down Gi-hun’s spine at the deliberate move. They weren’t sitting thigh to thigh, but they weren’t far apart either. If Gi-hun leaned back, he’d press against In-ho’s arm.
“That was hardly the first time something like that happened.” Gi-hun said shortly, looking away. He didn’t want to talk about it; he could still feel the ghost of Ho-seok’s grip on his face, tight and suffocating.
The silence that followed felt dangerous. Gi-hun stubbornly kept his gaze fixed ahead. The faint crackle of the fireplace and the soft slosh of water from the pool outside were the only sounds in the room. Sitting there in a shirt that didn’t cover anything, Gi-hun felt far too exposed under the weight of In-ho’s stare. He felt cold and bare, even in the warm penthouse.
When In-ho finally spoke, his voice was harder. “Then how can you still be that naive about people? What’s wrong with you?”
Gi-hun nearly broke his neck turning to face In-ho as fast as he did. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” he exclaimed, indignant. “Who goes around killing people like it’s nothing?”
“You said you’ve been assaulted more than once,” In-ho said, his face like granite. “And you still think people like that don’t deserve to die?”
Gi-hun flinched at that, anger rising quickly at having his painful experiences thrown back in his face. “People like that deserve to be brought to justice. Not to be shot in a supermarket. Not to be beaten in clubs.”
“The justice system?” In-ho spat out, disbelief sharp in his voice. He looked like Gi-hun had suggested jumping off the balcony. “That’s your answer, rely on the state? What’s next, Santa’s real?”
“Shut up!” Gi-hun snapped, his cheeks flushed with frustration, heat, and too much adrenaline. Embarrassment too; he knew he sounded painfully naive, but Gi-hun never claimed to have all the answers. All he knew was that In-ho’s solution to everything was a hundred percent wrong.
Gi-hun told him as much, as snidely as he can, “At least I’m not deciding who lives and dies like I’m God.”
In-ho leaned forward, slamming his empty glass on the table loud enough to make Gi-hun flinch. “You believe in God?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” Gi-hun shot back immediately, even knowing the derision that would follow. “I do. So what?”
A dark laugh left In-ho, humourless. “You finally make sense now,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s easy to stay deluded when you have religion.”
He leaned right into Gi-hun’s space, expression twisting into something cruel. Gi-hun hated how it didn’t make him any less attractive. “Why don’t you try praying for your little blonde friend from the club?” he mocked. “See if it fixes him.”
Gi-hun stared at In-ho, utterly stunned by the audacity. For a brief second, he thought about slapping him across the face, just like he had with Ho-seok. But just as quickly, he decided against it, refusing to give In-ho the satisfaction.
Done with this mess, Gi-hun pushed to his feet in one sharp motion. “You know what, I shouldn’t have come here,” he said, voice firm but trembling at the edges. “Go to hell, you asshole.”
Gi-hun stalked off before In-ho could respond, his anger carrying him across the penthouse, past the stupidly expensive furniture, and straight for the elevator. His pulse was pounding; fury, hurt, and too many other emotions tangled up so tight he couldn’t separate them.
Did he have any idea how he was going to get home? Definitely not. Was Gi-hun going to let any of that show in front of In-ho? He’d rather drown himself in the ridiculously large pool.
“And stop stalking me,” Gi-hun threw over his shoulder. “Or I really will go to the police, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”
He didn’t even make it to the elevator before a hand closed around his arm and yanked him back.
Gi-hun didn’t have time to react before his back hit the wall, the breath knocked out of him in a sharp gasp. “In-ho!”
He inhaled, ready to start cursing the man in front of him again, but paused when he heard In-ho’s breath catch, felt him go still. Gi-hun met his gaze, confused, and realised with a jolt how there was no space between them, how their noses nearly brushed, their bodies pressed together.
Suddenly, it was as if the anger, the frustration, the inability to understand each other had evaporated. What remained between them was what had been there from the start, since their gazes met in the supermarket. The instant attraction, the electric chemistry, the burning need.
For a second, neither of them moved or spoke, both standing still with Gi-hun pinned against the wall. The silence was so charged it felt alive against his skin.
When In-ho finally spoke, Gi-hun felt the brush of his breath against his face, and it made him shiver. “Say that again.”
Gi-hun’s heart slammed against his ribs, his thoughts scrambling. “What-”
“Say it again.” In-ho repeated, softer now, dark eyes fixed on him.
Gi-hun swallowed, breath uneven. He knew what In-ho wanted, understood exactly what would happen if he did as he was told.
There were a million reasons to push past the other man, head for the elevator, and leave. But that rational voice in his head, so loud in the car, was gone now, having grown quieter and quieter. All that was left was the simple truth Gi-hun had been fighting for weeks. Reckless as it was, he wanted this. He wanted him.
So he said it again, loud and clear. “In-ho.”
Gi-hun didn’t know why simply saying his name was what finally did it for In-ho. It was as if he’d been waiting for Gi-hun to acknowledge him, to truly see him. And now that he had, In-ho stopped holding back.
In-ho crashed his lips to Gi-hun’s. Their first kiss was anything but gentle, seared with heat, ravenous and messy. Gi-hun had missed the way first times felt, how they tasted when fuelled by burning passion. The inexperience of learning a new body was deliciously addictive. There was something heady about setting skill aside for pure hunger, and Gi-hun hadn’t felt hunger this strong for anyone before.
In-ho’s hands roamed down his body, the touch greedy, like he’d imagined what Gi-hun felt like a thousand times. He raked up the sheer shirt, fingers slipping underneath to find bare skin. When he cupped Gi-hun’s slim waist, his large hands could almost encircle it, turning Gi-hun weak with want.
“When I saw you in the club, I thought I drank too much, thought I was seeing things,” In-ho panted against his lips. His dark gaze dragged over Gi-hun’s frame and it felt like fire against his skin. “You should be arrested for public indecency.” His hands slid out from under Gi-hun’s shirt and moved back to squeeze his ass, hard.
Gi-hun didn’t know if it was possible to turn redder, but his body tried anyway. “You should be arrested for endangering the public!” he managed to retort.
In-ho let out a laugh that said “fair”. But Gi-hun wasn’t interested in words anymore, unless they’re the filthy kind. He grabbed In-ho’s neck with both hands and pulled him into another searing kiss.
In-ho peeled him away from the wall and turned them so Gi-hun faced their path while he moved backwards. Gi-hun was too preoccupied with sucking on In-ho’s tongue to care where he was being led. When he was flung downward, he found himself sinking into a large round lounge chair by the glass wall.
Gi-hun had a millisecond to be grateful they weren’t doing this on the uncomfortable couch before In-ho was on him again. Reconnecting their lips with a groan, In-ho moved his hands between them to unbutton Gi-hun’s shirt.
But when Gi-hun started to shrug the opened garment off his shoulders, In-ho stopped him. “Keep the shirt on,” he said. “And your jewelry. Everything else, off.”
Gi-hun glared at him even as his hands moved obediently to undo his belt. He let it drop to the floor, followed by his black jeans, leaving him in the black lace thong he’d put on “just in case.” Gi-hun flushed when In-ho let out an obnoxiously loud whistle. “Pervert.” he muttered, without any real bite.
In-ho didn’t bother denying it, only smirking as he knelt over Gi-hun, tugging his own clothes off. His heated gaze never left Gi-hun’s body. Gi-hun’s heart pounded as he ogled him in turn, silently marvelling at the defined muscles. He traced In-ho’s chiselled abdomen with shaky fingers.
When he was down to his underwear, Gi-hun felt his mouth water. The tight black boxer briefs did absolutely nothing to hide the shape of his massive erection. Gi-hun only managed to palm it once before In-ho leaned in for another long, deep kiss, whispering in his ear, “Turn around, beautiful.”
With a shiver, Gi-hun obeyed, flushing harder when In-ho’s large hands guided him to lift his hips. This is surreal, he thought dazedly as In-ho pulled his thong downwards to pool around his bent knees. Somehow, Gi-hun was in an insanely lush penthouse while face down, ass up, a serial killer between his spread legs. Not even his countless dreams about In-ho compared to this.
At the sight of Gi-hun’s bare ass, In-ho whistled again, this time low and rough, like his throat was thick with want. Gi-hun felt him bend down and give his right cheek a kiss, then his left. Another choked “pervert” started to form, but all that came out was a long, needy whine.
As if hell bent on making Gi-hun lose his mind, In-ho gave his left ass cheek a hard smack. When Gi-hun cried out in shock, In-ho asked, his deep voice filled with wonder, “How are you even real?”
“W-what?” Gi-hun stuttered, distracted by what sounded like In-ho opening a bottle of lube and slicking up his fingers. Where the fuck did he get that from, Gi-hun thought, too horny to be fully outraged.
“You’re an angel…” In-ho said simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “But you’re built like sin.” After giving Gi-hun the best compliment he’d ever received, In-ho immediately slipped a finger inside him. As if things couldn’t be more surreal.
Gi-hun gasped, reaching up and gripping the chair’s upholstered back just to have something to hold on to. He shuddered hard, panting, “I’m not an angel.”
In-ho hummed, sliding in a second finger before scissoring them. This time, Gi-hun cried out, his other hand flying to grip the chair’s back for dear life. When In-ho continued to fingerfuck him mercilessly, Gi-hun lifted his upper body against the chair’s curved back, too restless with sensation to just lie there and take it.
Gi-hun heard a deep chuckle behind him. “You’re definitely not one now,” In-ho murmured, angling his fingers to brush against Gi-hun’s prostate and pulling a loud, filthy moan from him. His thighs shook, cock throbbed painfully where it hung between his legs. “You sound like a whore.”
“Then fuck me already!” Gi-hun exploded, groaning through his teeth as In-ho added another finger to torture him with. He was ready, goddamn it. It’d been so long since he’d had sex and he’d never felt more eager for it.
Suddenly, Gi-hun felt a hand card through his curls before gripping a fistful and tugging hard. He yelped as he was effortlessly pulled upward until his back met In-ho’s front, three fingers still inside him. Fuck, Gi-hun thought dizzily, his head lolling onto In-ho’s shoulder. He hadn’t even been fucked yet and this was already the hottest moment of his life.
The hand in his hair moved to his throat, not squeezing but gripping tightly enough to make Gi-hun’s pulse jump. He felt lips against his ear when In-ho whispered hotly, “Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”
Gi-hun tried to give as good as he got, turning his head to boldly meet In-ho’s eyes. But he nearly faltered at the sight of In-ho’s face, pupils blown wide, hunger etched so deeply into his features that Gi-hun’s heart skipped a beat with exhilaration and, he couldn’t lie, a hint of fear.
But he caught himself quickly. “Yes,” He hissed, clenching down on the fingers inside him and watching with satisfaction as In-ho’s eyes turned darker. “Fuck me, In-ho. Now.”
In-ho’s mouth was on Gi-hun’s as soon as his name left his lips, muffling his last word. Between filthy kisses, In-ho pulled his fingers out of Gi-hun, hastily freeing his cock from his underwear and moving it into position.
In-ho didn’t bother with a warning; as soon as he felt himself meet Gi-hun’s waiting hole, he thrusted his hips forward. Gi-hun gasped at the intrusion, at the unrelenting way In-ho filled his empty hole with his thick cock.
He didn’t let up, even when Gi-hun broke the kiss to pant open-mouthed against his lips. He still didn’t relent when Gi-hun reached back and grabbed his hip, trying to signal him to go slower. In-ho simply fisted Gi-hun’s curls again and pushed him back down until his chest met the backrest, the message clear: just take it.
And Gi-hun did, thighs trembling, back arched, and hands white-knuckled against the upholstery as In-ho seated himself inside fully. When In-ho’s thighs finally met the back of his, he was at least kind enough to give Gi-hun a moment to adjust. His hands moved soothingly up and down Gi-hun’s sides beneath the shirt. It’d be sweet if Gi-hun wasn’t a hundred percent sure that In-ho was admiring the sight of Gi-hun’s hole stretched around his cock. Like the total pervert he was.
At the first thrust of In-ho’s hips, Gi-hun couldn’t even make a sound, his lungs robbed of air. That didn’t stop In-ho, the thrusts coming harder and harder as he found his rhythm. At a particularly rough one, Gi-hun found his voice again. “In-ho!” he practically wailed, but the man paid him no mind, using his grip on Gi-hun’s waist to keep pulling him back onto his cock again and again.
“Ah… ah… ah!” The noises Gi-hun made were practically screams, echoing too loudly in the quiet living room. He’d feel more embarrassed if In-ho wasn’t panting like a bull behind him, deep groans that sounded almost painful dragged from his chest.
The lounge chair Gi-hun was scratching grooves into slid across the floor with the force of their fucking. He’d find it funny if he wasn’t currently losing his mind. In-ho was absolutely jackhammering his prostate and Gi-hun wondered for the first time if he could come untouched.
“You feel so good, baby.” In-ho gasped, pushing up from where he’d been kneeling behind Gi-hun to stand instead, his thrusts turning rougher as he found firmer footing. Gi-hun wailed at the change in angle. He was going to lose his voice at this point.
In-ho sounded choked when he growled out, “Touch yourself. Now!” Gi-hun scrambled to obey, but he shouldn’t have bothered. As soon as his hand closed around his cock, In-ho hit his prostate in exactly the right way, making him come harder than he had in ages.
Gi-hun’s ears were ringing too loudly to hear the sounds he was making as he stained In-ho’s poor, doubtlessly expensive chair. But he did catch the sound In-ho made as he followed, like he’d been punched right in the gut.
He came inside me, Gi-hun thought blearily. If he wasn’t still a bit dazed from pleasure, he’d be annoyingly giddy at how quickly In-ho came, at how badly he clearly wanted him too. But for now, all he could do was let himself collapse back into the chair with In-ho on top of him, still inside him.
They were still catching their breath, sweat cooling on their skin, when the weight of the slab of muscle on top of him finally got to Gi-hun. “Heavy.” he complained, squirming a little.
In-ho only hushed him, his lips moving against Gi-hun’s hair where his face was buried. At the sound, Gi-hun stilled with a quiet sigh. It was kind of cosy anyway. He’d missed how warm skin-on-skin contact could feel, how soothing it was to simply be held.
After a while, In-ho finally pulled out of him and sat up. When Gi-hun made to follow, a hand landed on his back, stilling him. “Wait.” In-ho murmured softly.
A moment later, Gi-hun felt fabric between his cheeks and thighs as In-ho cleaned him up. Gi-hun didn’t want to think too hard about which piece of clothing had just been sacrificed for the cause, so he simply stayed where he was and let In-ho take care of him.
Once In-ho pulled his thong back on, Gi-hun pushed himself upright, wincing at the lingering ache in his backside. Their gazes met. For a second, they simply sat there facing each other in their underwear, limbs still touching. The fireplace behind them cast shifting amber light across In-ho’s face, catching the sudden solemnity in his expression.
Well, Gi-hun thought wryly, so much for staying away from the crazy hot assassin. But afterglow aside, he couldn’t pretend to regret a thing. In-ho was dangerous, and he shouldn’t have him in his life but now that he did, maybe Gi-hun could convince him that people weren’t entirely worthless. He perked up at the thought; he could have In-ho and maybe change him, too.
Gi-hun opened his mouth, not entirely sure what he was about to say, but In-ho beat him to it. “You shouldn’t get involved with me.”
Somehow, Gi-hun had expected that. It didn’t surprise him, but it did make his heart rate speed up with worry. “We’re already involved.” he replied firmly, because it was true.
In-ho hesitated. It was the first time Gi-hun had ever seen him uncertain. He was always so composed, so impossibly in control. Seeing that crack in his demeanour eased the anxiety that had started swirling in Gi-hun’s belly.
He smiled at In-ho properly, soft and genuine. Judging by the starstruck look that crossed In-ho’s face, Gi-hun guessed he hadn’t done that before.
In-ho studied him quietly before sighing, reaching up to brush a stray curl off Gi-hun’s forehead. “I’ve been watching you for a while,” he acknowledged, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “You’re so good, Gi-hun. And I…” He exhaled softly. “You know what I am. I’m nothing like you.”
His hand slid to Gi-hun’s cheek, unbearably gentle, so different from how he treated Gi-hun just a few minutes ago. The tenderness of it made his heart tremble. For the first time, he realised he was in far more danger from this man than he’d thought.
“I know you’re stubborn as hell,” In-ho said with a quiet laugh. It didn’t sound like an insult. “And I’m too old, too set in my ways to change. This won’t end well.”
Gi-hun knew he was probably right, but he just didn’t care. Besides, no one could say he lacked optimism. One look into In-ho’s eyes, resigned yet pleased, told him the other man already knew Gi-hun’s decision.
As they held each other’s gaze, it felt like they were slipping back into that strange little bubble they kept finding themselves in since the moment they met beneath harsh supermarket lights. Now, under the dim glow of In-ho’s obscenely expensive penthouse, Gi-hun thought; fuck it, life was all about balance.