“…The confession is one thing, but I’m not asking you to do anything about it right now. I just answered your question in the most effective way I could. I thought this would be the fastest way for you to understand.”

The calm explanation, suppressing a tremor, continued from below his nose. His body flinched with every breath he felt. A sense of reality washed in and out. His mind was blank. He still couldn’t fully grasp what had just happened.

“Hyung.”

The voice sounded indistinct. His ears felt clogged, as if the water that had been dripping from him had gotten inside.

Han Geon-joo lifted his head and studied Sa-yoon intently. He narrowed his eyes, let out a pained groan, and straightened his body. The weight that had been leaning against Sa-yoon returned to its proper place.

“…Did you really not think I might like you?”

The question snapped him back to his senses.

He had known.

From the moment he’d received that gaze full of affection, Sa-yoon had predicted this moment would one day come. He had a habit of planning for the worst-case scenario, and he had simulated this situation before. And yet, he couldn’t react immediately as he usually did. He had never factored in that his mind would go so blank that calculated actions and skillful responses would become impossible.

It was a miscalculation born from a lack of experience.

He could handle misfortune, but how was he supposed to handle a sudden show of affection that could be either misfortune or fortune?

“Mm,” the man hummed. “By any chance, was that your first kiss?”

The question, which felt vaguely unpleasant, brought his hazy reason back into focus. His eyes sharpened, and Sa-yoon glared at Geon-joo, clenching his fists. It felt like he was being looked down on. Just as he was about to retort, Han Geon-joo reached out and planted a hand on the boat, right next to Sa-yoon’s head.

A shadow fell over him.

“There’s something I’m really curious about. Can I ask you?”

His eyes were wavering; it seemed he was experiencing a confusion similar to his own.

“Why did you kiss me? Do you like me?”

That was what Sa-yoon wanted to ask him. Who in their right mind just smashes their lips against someone and then confesses?

He’s the one who just mashed his lips against mine, and now he’s asking me about a kiss…

He was mulling over what to say in his own defense when he paused. The moment he’d sent him out of the Gate flashed in his mind.

Come to think of it, I did kiss him first. If he were to ask why he did it, he would have nothing to say.

It just… felt like if this was the end, it would be okay to do it once.

He couldn’t bring himself to say that, so he forgot his anger and remained silent. It was always like this. Han Geon-joo always managed to shut him up in the most outlandish ways imaginable.

Having lost both his excuses and his indignation, he simply endured the direct gaze from above. Geon-joo’s throat bobbed once.

“I kissed you because I like you.”

It was a straightforward pitch, with no curveballs. And that, in turn, was what was so disarming. He didn’t know how best to respond to such a one-sided declaration of feelings, so he ignored the many sentences that came to mind. Geon-joo lowered his head.

“So you should think about it again.”

Again?

“…If you don’t want this, push me away.”

The shadow seemed to deepen, and the familiar scent once again enveloped him. Warmth spread across his skin. Just like the first time, he was frozen and couldn’t push him away. A hand slipped below his waist, and something hot brushed against his lips.

“…!”

Sa-yoon’s body went rigid, his back pressed against the boat. It was an unfamiliar sensation. He couldn’t avoid the movement as a tongue traced his lower lip, then sucked at it as if to devour it.

He couldn’t tell if he was unable to, or if he simply didn’t.

Scrrrrape. The sound of wood being scratched came from beside his head. Han Geon-joo was digging his nails into the boat as he tilted his head.

A tongue that slipped past his parted lips tapped against his teeth. He had been as stiff as a log, but he unconsciously opened his mouth, and it rushed inside. It swept across the roof of his mouth and wrapped around his own tongue. As their lips met and parted several times, ragged breaths spilled out.

As their tongues intertwined, Geon-joo began to lean his weight onto him, and before he knew it, Sa-yoon was lying flat on the boat. The hand that had been on his waist roamed over his lean stomach. The other hand, which had been scratching the wood, moved down to caress Sa-yoon’s earlobe. Geon-joo bit his lip hard once, let go, and then slowly lifted his eyelids. Sa-yoon, who hadn’t even been able to close his eyes during the sudden kiss, caught a glimpse of the deep desire in the dark eyes as the long lashes lifted.

His heart pounded. Geon-joo, who was now fully on top of him, caught his breath, then propped himself up on his knees and elbows. He consciously pulled back his lower body so his thighs wouldn’t touch Sa-yoon’s and let out a groan-like sigh. When Sa-yoon’s own ragged breathing had calmed slightly, Geon-joo’s wet lips parted.

“Why…” the man whispered, his fingertips tracing the well-defined muscles of his abdomen. “Why didn’t you push me away?”

Another direct question.

If he would just beat around the bush a little, it would be easier for him to answer, but he was as stubborn as a mule.

He was just as stubborn, though, so he didn’t answer. The hand that had been on his stomach slowly moved up and pressed firmly on Sa-yoon’s lower lip. The soft inner membrane was exposed as his thumb, which had pulled the lip down, became slightly wet.

“…Do you dislike me?”

It was a shrewd question.

He already knew the answer, yet he played with his words like that. Sa-yoon took a deep breath and faced the flood of emotions. It was a gaze that promised to press their lips together again at the slightest sign of permission. The kiss hadn’t been bad, but the feeling was so foreign that it felt strange.

If he hesitated, he felt the man would use it as an excuse to start again, so he opened his mouth.

“What do you mean you’re not asking me to do anything? You’re demanding it like you’re about to die.”

A hollow laugh punctuated his words. Han Geon-joo bit his lip. He was clearly annoyed that he wasn’t getting the answer he wanted. The fact that he could hide it but chose not to was the height of shamelessness.

You already know, so why are you asking?

He could act like this because he knew Sa-yoon was weak to him.

Well, there’s the answer.

“Honestly, you’re an exhausting bastard.”

“What did you say?”

“High-maintenance and picky, and your temper is as foul as your courage is reckless…”

As a stream of insults poured out instead of the expected answer, Han Geon-joo’s expression changed by the second. At first, he looked questioning, but then his feelings tilted toward irritation. The change was amusing to watch, and Sa-yoon let out a small laugh, pushing the man off his chest. Han Geon-joo obediently moved back and sat up straight. Sa-yoon met his now-calmer eyes and finally said what he’d been holding back.

“I activated ‘The Resister’ because of you.”

“…What?”

The sudden declaration made him forget he was sulking, and his eyes went wide. Sa-yoon glanced at the notification window floating beside him. ‘The Resister’ alert was still there in the corner.

“I could have rested without activating my disposition. But because of you, I forced it and got out of that Gate. Do you understand what that means?”

“…”

“You and I are now held hostage by each other.”¹

They say you can’t predict your own life. He’d never thought a day like this would come. The more Sa-yoon thought about it, the more absurd the situation seemed, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“How can you kick away the good fortune that rolled right up to you? If I die, who do you think gets everything I have? My fortune, my items, the guild—I had it all planned out for you, and you go and kick away your own luck.”

He clicked his tongue as if he felt the waste more than Geon-joo did, but there was no reaction from the other man. Something felt off. He looked over and saw Han Geon-joo frozen like a statue, staring at him without even blinking.

“…Han Geon-joo?”

“I think I might have… misunderstood something.”

The man, who rarely ever stuttered, let out a gasp and looked around frantically. There was nothing to see but the river and the forest, so what was he looking at so busily? Sa-yoon, bewildered, grabbed his shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

“You’re a quick-witted guy. What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“Something’s weird. Are you under some kind of mental debuff?”

“Do you think I’d be affected by a debuff here?”

“But why are you saying things…”

“What about what I’m saying?”

“What you’re saying, hyung… it sounds like you intend to live.”

His face was a mask of disbelief. Sa-yoon felt a sense of futility at the look in his eyes, which was the same one you’d give a con artist.

Did I say something so impossible?

He was the one who had been crying and begging him to live, and now he was the one acting so shocked.

“That’s right, I intend to live. What’s with the bullshit all of a sudden?”

“What did you say?”

“You said you’d try to save me, right? I’m telling you to give it a try. Why are you acting up now? Want to take it back?”

“…”

The threat in his voice must have finally made it sink in that this wasn’t a lie or a joke. Han Geon-joo, who had been looking nothing but confused, froze with wide eyes, holding his breath. Alarmed that he had stopped breathing, Sa-yoon reached out a hand, but at that moment, the man’s eyes reddened and transparent droplets formed. Sa-yoon moved the hand he had extended to check his breathing to Geon-joo’s eyes instead.

“No, shit. Why all of a sudden…”

He tried to wipe away the falling tears, but for every one drop he wiped away, two more would fall. His fingers were soaked. He gave up and used both hands, then scowled and pulled Geon-joo’s head into a hug. He could hear him crying. It was a cry so sorrowful that anyone watching would have thought he’d just been dumped.

“How could you say something like that… so… casually…”

The man, gasping for breath between sobs, didn’t hide his bewilderment. He rubbed his face against Sa-yoon’s chest to wipe his tears, stayed there for a long moment, then lifted his head, his eyes red.

“You done crying?”

He asked teasingly. The man scowled and muttered something. Even from a distance, it sounded like, I’m so pissed. The unfamiliar atmosphere dissipated, leaving only the familiar one behind. Sa-yoon chuckled. After a moment, the man wiped his still-damp eyes with the back of his hand and pulled a piece of paper from his inventory.

“…Then, let’s start with this.”

He took it. It was an S-class contract.

“You tend to change your mind a lot, so I thought it would be better to have it in writing. I prepared it just in case, and I’m glad the day to use it came sooner than expected. I’ve already written my name. You just have to sign. Here, use this pen.”

Sa-yoon listened to the rapid-fire explanation, which was clearly designed to prevent him from changing his mind. He read the contract, which shrewdly included a clause stating that if he didn’t uphold the agreement, he would have to grant whatever Han Geon-joo wished, and felt a headache coming on.

Shit, for real. I’ve completely spoiled this kid.

Whoever it was, they had taught him some strange things. Sa-yoon grumbled internally and signed the contract. His resolve wasn’t something that could be swayed by a single piece of paper, so it didn’t matter if he signed it or not.

He quickly scribbled his signature and handed it over. Han Geon-joo’s eyes shone as he checked the contract. It was a rare sight, and Sa-yoon watched him for a moment before letting out a small laugh.

I thought it would be heavy, but it’s surprisingly… lighter than I thought.

He closed his eyes at the thought. He could breathe.