Chapter 9

When Jaeyoung arrived at the meeting room, he found Sangwoo waiting for him inside, dressed in a loose navy plaid shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Making sure to sit as far away from the weirdo as possible, Jaeyoung stubbornly stared at the rim of his hat instead of making eye contact. “This is an improvement,” Sangwoo observed with a mocking smirk. “You were only late by twelve minutes this time.” Jaeyoung stayed silent, barely managing an uncomfortable smile. The truth was, he’d gotten to campus an entire hour before their scheduled meeting. However, he’d wasted the bulk of that time contemplating whether he should meet up with Sangwoo in his current state, pondering where their relationship was headed, and wondering if it wasn’t too late to back out of their agreement. “I got these for you,” Sangwoo continued. “Help yourself.” Jaeyoung scanned the assortment of snacks and drinks the weirdo had placed on the table. Did his latest software update include a hospitality module or something? he wondered. But then his brain finally processed what was on offer: fermented rice drinks, sweet potato chips, honey twists, traditional sweets like yakgwa… How old did Sangwoo think he was, seventy? Jaeyoung popped a sweet potato chip into his mouth anyway, figuring it’d be rude to leave the snacks untouched. “Thanks, I guess…,” he mumbled as he munched away. When he discreetly stole a glance at the weirdo, the guy had a cold, indifferent look on his face. Judging by his expression, you would have thought Jaeyoung was some stranger who’d randomly decided to barge into the room. It left him feeling slightly disconcerted—after all, if it wasn’t for Sangwoo’s coaxing, he wouldn’t have agreed to help in the first place! Back in the alley, the weirdo’s eyes had sparkled as he’d spoken to Jaeyoung. It’d seemed like, for once, the guy had found his presence tolerable. But the way he was acting now, Jaeyoung found himself seriously contemplating whether it had been a hallucination. “There are two rules that you must follow when it comes to this partnership,” Sangwoo said without any preamble. “One: You must adhere to deadlines and show up to meetings on time.” “Fine.” “Two: You must have complete and utter dedication to the project.” Jaeyoung stayed silent. “If either of those conditions is too much for you, leave now.” It took a tremendous amount of effort for Jaeyoung to keep his face from crumpling. Of course, the logical part of him knew that Sangwoo had come to find him at the restaurant because the weirdo needed a skilled designer—nothing more, nothing less. But his stupid emotions had gotten in the way. How could they not, when Sangwoo was so much more than just a “skilled developer” to him? Maybe I really did imagine the spark between us yesterday, Jaeyoung mused as he sat there in silence. But…it had felt so special. In its wake, he’d been left flushed and aroused. “No complaints,” Sangwoo said with a nod, despite the fact that Jaeyoung hadn’t said a word. “Noted.” He pulled out a printout and handed it over. Jaeyoung was struck speechless. If he was being honest, he’d scoffed inwardly when Sangwoo had laid out his grand plan to develop an amazing game in merely four months. Sangwoo was a computer science prodigy, sure, but he was also a student, not a professional. Plus, with a timeframe as limited as that, it would be basically impossible for two people to develop a game by themselves, period. But, apparently, Sangwoo had meant every single word of what he’d said. The flowchart laid out before Jaeyoung’s eyes broke down everything to the last detail—from the initial planning stage to the post-development QA process. After a pause, Jaeyoung said, “Y’know, I think the schedule is a bit tight…especially your part.” The planning and design stages were definitely nothing to scoff at, but the development stage was on a whole other level. Despite their short production period, it seemed Sangwoo was aiming to launch their app simultaneously on both iOS and Android. The list of tasks for the last month was particularly brutal: server integration; network, security, and performance testing; device-specific optimization… Jaeyoung might not know much about game development, but even he could tell those tasks would be incredibly time-consuming. Sangwoo sounded totally nonchalant as he said, “I’ll be fine. Do you have any complaints about the design schedule?” Jaeyoung frowned. Since the outline hadn’t been fully finalized, his workload wasn’t as heavy as Sangwoo’s—but the early stages were going to be a problem. To keep up, he’d have to complete multiple character, item, and map designs every single day. That might’ve been possible for a machine, but he was flesh and blood! “No complaints. Noted,” Sangwoo said once again. He straightened in his chair, then crossed his arms and gazed across the table. Jaeyoung nearly flinched when he met Sangwoo’s eyes. In that moment, the guy looked almost frighteningly robotic. “The revenue split will be eighty-twenty. I get eighty, and you get twenty.” Jaeyoung honestly didn’t care how the money would be split. Who knew if they would even manage to finish the project at all? Besides, he’d only agreed to work on the game in the first place because it provided an excuse to see Sangwoo again—he wasn’t afraid to admit it. What Jaeyoung did have a problem with, however, was that it seemed like the weirdo was bulldozing his way into taking complete control of the project. Which meant Jaeyoung needed to establish his own position before things went any further. “Wow, what a rip-off,” he said snarkily. “I believe I’m being quite generous, actually. The planning is already complete, so your only job is to doodle a few lines. You seemed to have plenty of time in your schedule to harass me, so I assume you can devote an equal amount of time to your work.” “Oh, you did not just say that.” For all the value Sangwoo had just placed on his work, Jaeyoung might as well’ve been some scam artist who traced every one of his sketches. The words were a clear provocation—whether the younger man had intended them to be or not—and Jaeyoung had no intention of letting sleeping dogs lie. He crossed his arms, mirroring Sangwoo’s posture, and leaned back in his chair. “Honestly, I don’t get why we’re talking about the revenue split when we haven’t even started the damn project! Who knows? It might be a total flop. Keep it up, and I might just ditch your stupid schedule entirely.” “What would you like me to do, then?” Sangwoo asked calmly, seemingly completely unaffected by Jaeyoung’s cranky tone. “Why are you asking me? Fix the damn schedule! You’re the one who made it!” “How would you change it?” Jaeyoung scoffed. “By scrapping it, obviously. There’s no way it’s gonna work.” “All right,” Sangwoo agreed stoically, giving him a nod. “I suppose it would be difficult to finish revisions today, so I’ll give you until our next meeting. Your assistance will make you an active participant in the planning process, so I’ll change the revenue split to fifty-fifty.” “What…?” Realization hit—he’d fallen right into the weirdo’s trap. He’d never intended to plan out everything by himself. Jaeyoung’s mouth fell open indignantly, but before he could get a word out, Sangwoo had already shoved a document outlining the game’s initial concept in his face. It was the same one he’d seen before. “You said this sucked the last time I showed it to you. Find a way to make it more entertaining by our next meeting, or I’m keeping it. Revisions are due by midnight the day before the meeting. You can send them to the email address on the paper here.” Jaeyoung reflexively glanced at the schedule and scoffed in disbelief. The “next meeting” was tomorrow, which meant the revisions were due in seven hours. “You’re kidding, right?” “We’re running on a tight schedule. We don’t have time to waste on planning,” Sangwoo responded coolly as he gathered all the documents and slipped them into his backpack. When he stood up, he didn’t even look in Jaeyoung’s direction. Jaeyoung had figured the meeting wouldn’t go exactly as he’d envisioned, but Sangwoo acting like some cutthroat businessman hadn’t been on his bingo card, either. Where was the special connection he’d felt between them the night before? It seemed to have vanished without a trace. Without thinking, Jaeyoung asked, “Leaving already?” “I can’t stay with you for long.” “How come?” “I’d prefer to keep my reasons to myself,” the weirdo responded cryptically. Jaeyoung raised an eyebrow. In his opinion, he was pretty good at picking up on subtle cues, but he couldn’t begin to guess why Sangwoo was rushing out of the room like it was on fire. He was struck speechless as the door opened. You know what? he muttered inwardly. Maybe this is a good thing. Better to keep business and pleasure separate… But he still couldn’t stave off a pang of disappointment. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Sangwoo said. Jaeyoung’s head shot up, his gaze colliding with Sangwoo’s. The rim of the guy’s black hat cast a dark shadow over his unreadable eyes. “Moving forward, don’t touch me without warning. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable.” Could Sangwoo see through him, to the filthy desire coiled in his mind? Jaeyoung didn’t think so, but he felt exposed all the same. A blush crept across his face as his pride crumpled beneath the weirdo’s blow. But Sangwoo wasn’t done. “And if you could take care not to touch the top of my head, grab my forearm, or whisper directly in my ear,” he continued relentlessly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” “I’ll see you at our next meeting, then.” “Dude, just say you’ll see me tomorrow. It’s not like the meeting’s in a few days.” “My wording is up to my own discretion.” With that, Sangwoo turned and left, leaving Jaeyoung to try and make sense of what’d just happened. He felt as if a hurricane had swept through the room, leaving him disoriented, confused, and surrounded by snacks and drinks he’d never asked for. What the hell…? Mobile game development wasn’t one of Jaeyoung’s areas of interest, nor had it ever been. He certainly wasn’t desperate enough to sacrifice the next few months of his life grinding away on some insane schedule. And yet, he’d agreed to do just that—for one reason and one reason only. The way Sangwoo had said his damn name. However, when he’d stepped into the meeting room, he’d been greeted by a workaholic maniac, not the cute underclassman he’d been hoping for. Well, this is lame… Jaeyoung started gathering up the food in front of him. It took him so long that he was late to meet up with a friend. “You’re developing a game in four months, during school? With just one other person?” Jaeyoung’s friend frowned incredulously as he leaned on the pool table with his arm, lined up his cue, and took a shot. His form was flashy enough that he looked like he was recording a shot for a movie, but he missed spectacularly. “You don’t think it’s gonna work?” Jaeyoung asked as he walked around the table. “I mean…depends on what sort of game you’re aiming to make and how high a quality you want it to be. Technically, you could make a simple fixed shooter in a day if you really wanted to.” “The guy I’m working with is supposed to be some kind of coding genius. I think he’s hoping for, like, tens of millions of won in profits.” Jaeyoung’s friend scoffed. “Yeah, no way in hell! He’s scamming you, dude.” “You think so?” Jaeyoung chuckled as he gripped his cue, bent over the table, and slid the long pole back and forth under his index finger a few times. Unfortunately, his careful adjustments went up in smoke when he got a text notification and his concentration shattered into a million pieces. When another beep followed, he begrudgingly set the cue down to check his phone. Scowling in annoyance, Jaeyoung shoved his phone back into his pocket. The texts were an unwelcome reminder of the apathetic gaze Sangwoo had turned on him, as if nothing had happened between them. Although, if he asked the weirdo himself, the jerk would probably deny that anything had. Jaeyoung’s grip on his cue tightened until his knuckles were white. Pursing his lips, he reassumed his position and struck the white ball hard, putting a spin on it. It slid across the table and hit the red ball, sending it into one of the corner pockets. “What kinda magic was that?” his friend exclaimed in surprise. “Please, that was pure skill.” Jaeyoung stepped aside, and his friend made a big show of bending over the table and carefully aiming the cue with all the grandeur of a professional player. He took another shot. “You said the guy’s the same major as me, right? What’s his name?” “Sangwoo Choo.” “Hmm… Nope, doesn’t ring a bell. Guess I’m getting too old to remember young’uns like him…” “He’s only two years below you,” Jaeyoung said with a snort. “You probably know of him. He’s the freshman who made a scene during the welcome party when we were juniors. Y’know, Mr. ‘I can drink, but I do not wish to at this particular moment.’” “Oh, that weirdo? Yeah, yeah, I remember him. I bet he’s a absolute genius when it comes to code, but when it comes to working in a team…” He trailed off, shrugging. Tell me about it, Jaeyoung thought, but he stayed silent as he aimed his cue again. He and the weirdo made a perfect pair, really—an underclassman who sucked at working with other people, and an upperclassman who got a boner simply because said underclassman called his name a certain way. When he took his next shot, Jaeyoung accidentally put way too much force behind the cue. Strangely, though, the ball curved, and it made it into the pocket by a very thin margin. It was almost like…he really was performing magic. His friend gave a low whistle. “You’re on a roll, dude.” Jaeyoung’s phone went off just as he was about to reply. Frowning, he grabbed it and checked the screen, only to see an incoming call from the same unknown number as before. Jaeyoung declined it. It was probably just a certain someone trying to hound him now that his precious deadline had passed. The next few minutes passed in relative silence as Jaeyoung and his friend traded turns hunching over the pool table, focusing on lining up their shots. Though his friend wasn’t half bad, it looked like Jaeyoung was going to win the game by a landslide. He was taking a break to stretch his back when his phone rang again with a call from an unknown number. His first assumption was it was Sangwoo calling to nag him, but this time, the number was from a landline. The gears in Jaeyoung’s head spun into furious motion. His grandfather had been known to call him from random hotels in the past, since he didn’t have a phone. Plus, there was no way Sangwoo had a landline in that tiny apartment. In the end, Jaeyoung picked up. “Hello?” “This is Sangwoo Choo.” Jaeyoung held his breath, unsure of what to say. “I decided to call because you still haven’t emailed me. Is something prohibiting you from meeting the deadline we agreed upon?” Sangwoo’s voice was drier than tree bark. It was the perfect chance for Jaeyoung to say he didn’t want to work on the project anymore. After all, free will was a thing. But somehow, knowing that Sangwoo was on the other end of that call…he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. “I’m pretty busy, actually,” he finally managed to mutter. “You say that, but…” “But what?” “I can hear billiard balls.” There wasn’t any judgment in Sangwoo’s calm, impassive voice, but Jaeyoung suddenly felt like a kid being scolded by his parents. “I’ll have everything together by tomorrow’s meeting.” “Please make an effort to be more punctual next time.” Sangwoo fell silent for a moment, and Jaeyoung heard a baby crying in the background. Apparently, the weirdo was borrowing his neighbor’s phone just so he could yell at Jaeyoung. “I’m hanging up.” “Okay.” Jaeyoung sighed as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He didn’t feel motivated to work on the stupid project in the slightest, but he couldn’t back out of it, either. When he glanced at the pool table, he didn’t even feel like playing anymore. “I’ll pay for the table,” he said to his friend. “I gotta go. See ya.” “Seriously? Come on, dude!” His friend threw up his hands in annoyance, but Jaeyoung headed back to his apartment without saying another word. The initial draft for Veggie Man was so terrible that it left Jaeyoung totally stumped. He went through draft after draft, then felt a surge of rage when he realized he was 90 percent of the way through an all-nighter. The fact that he was starting to see Sangwoo as a romantic interest was problematic enough on its own, but now he also had to put up with being stuck on a project that was basically doomed from the beginning? It was absolutely ridiculous. At this point, the game’s success had become a matter of Jaeyoung’s pride—if his name was going to be attached to it, he had to ensure it was at least of decent quality. However, coming up with an entirely new game concept wasn’t something he could pump out in a couple of hours. And to make matters worse, he was severely lacking in the motivation department. Unsurprisingly, it was kinda hard to summon the urge to put in any effort for a guy who treated you like radioactive waste. Once again, Jaeyoung found his thoughts had circled back to Sangwoo. He heaved a sigh. How could he have developed such a massive crush on a machine? Not to mention one merciless enough to try and bully him into coming up with a bunch of quality designs in a single day. I wish I could never see that stupid weirdo again…but I also miss him. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Jaeyoung’s pen spun faster and faster between his fingers. No matter what he wanted to do, he couldn’t show up to the meeting empty-handed. He uncapped the pen and got back to work. “Given how much pride you seem to take in your originality, I had high expectations. But I must admit, I’m disappointed.” Even though Jaeyoung had braced himself for this very outcome, he was barely able to hold back a scowl at Sangwoo’s words. Crossing his arms, he forced himself to remain calm. “The name and basic outline are unchanged,” Sangwoo continued. “The only thing that’s different is the character design… And do you actually believe these align with our game concept?” Sangwoo placed the three pieces of paper with the character designs on the desk, but Jaeyoung’s attention was drawn to the fingers that had held them instead. Objectively, they were pretty damn far from pretty or delicate—the knuckles were pronounced, like many men’s were. But for some reason, Jaeyoung still found himself overcome with an inexplicable desire to place each digit in his mouth and curl his tongue around them one by one. His eyes followed the weirdo’s hand as it pulled the rim of his hat down slightly, then tucked itself beneath the meeting room table alongside the other. “As I’ve told you already, this game is for children,” Sangwoo said, abruptly breaking Jaeyoung out of his trance. “That means our customer base will be young parents. I highly doubt they’ll let their children play a game like this.” Jaeyoung glared across the table at Sangwoo, but his gaze was partially blocked by the weirdo’s hat. “Care to explain why not?” Sangwoo’s lips, previously in a straight line, twisted unhappily. A single digit emerged from beneath the desk to point at the first of the three characters. Once again, Jaeyoung found his gaze drawn to that finger. The nail at the end of it was a little too short, suggesting it had been trimmed recently. Still, there was enough left of the pale crescent at the end to keep him spellbound. “One: This eggplant looks like a thug suffering from kidney disease. I wasn’t aware that we were developing a horror game.” Sangwoo pushed the paper aside and pointed at the second character. “Two: It’s impossible to tell if this is supposed to be lettuce or celery. I expect something better for an educational game.” With the first two characters having been ruthlessly rejected, Jaeyoung readied himself for another round of verbal beatdown. “Three: It doesn’t make sense for a potato to walk around on its sprouts. It looks scary, too. Can’t you come up with a better mode of transportation for this character?” Jaeyoung could only manage a scoff of disbelief. If he was being honest, seeing the absurd plan Sangwoo had come up with had made him completely lose faith in the weirdo, but now it seemed like he actually did have some standards. He couldn’t exactly brush off the guy’s criticism when he’d made a couple of valid points. Jaeyoung took a long look at the character designs, starting to see them in a new light. The eggplant was admittedly a bit monstrous, mainly due to his personal art preferences. And it was true that he’d struggled to find a way to give the potato legs, botching his original design by giving up and making the sprouts longer. Even he had to admit that it looked pretty odd. As for the lettuce, well…he’d needed something to fill the page. Still, none of that meant Jaeyoung was gonna lie down and let Sangwoo smack him around. “What the hell did you expect?!” he erupted, banging a fist on the meeting room table. “You only gave me one day to work on this shit!” To be clear, despite this outburst, Jaeyoung hadn’t even dedicated a full hour to creating his designs—in fact, they’d taken him all of…seven minutes? Still, confidence was everything, and forcing a designer to complete work with such a short turnaround was a sign of inexperience in the field. And yet, when Sangwoo responded, he didn’t seem to be feeling an ounce of shame. “I wouldn’t have such high expectations if I was working with someone else. But I’m working with you.” Jaeyoung’s mouth dropped open. If the weirdo had criticized him further, he could’ve easily summoned a retort. But when he said things like that… All the fight drained from Jaeyoung’s limbs, and his chest tightened painfully. Sure, he could try to tell Sangwoo that he’d barely put in effort with those designs, but there was no way the jerk would actually believe him. “We’ll go with the original draft,” Sangwoo announced. “No,” Jaeyoung countered immediately. “Do you have a backup plan in mind?” Subjected to the icy coldness of Sangwoo’s gaze, Jaeyoung found himself grateful to the weirdo’s stupid black hat for once. At least it had the decency to shield him from half of the jerk’s intense stare. “I’ll redo the entire thing,” he said. “We don’t have the time.” “I’ll get it done by our next meeting! When is it, anyway…? Monday?” Jaeyoung scowled. Now that he was taking a closer look at the schedule, it seemed Sangwoo had scheduled them to have one of these stupid meetings every single day except for Saturday and Sunday, when the weirdo was supposed to be at work. It was almost obsessive. Given how much Sangwoo had gone on about how busy they were going to be, Jaeyoung had thought most of their communication would be over email. But it seemed like the weirdo had so little trust in him that he’d made arrangements to monitor him nearly twenty-four seven. Jaeyoung glanced at Sangwoo’s lips, which were pressed together in a thin line. Maybe, if he actually produced something that met the guy’s lofty standards, he could get a compliment for once. “I’ll be in touch, Jaeyoung.” The voice sounded much warmer in Jaeyoung’s mind than it had in reality, he was sure. Even though that was the only time Sangwoo had treated him like a human being over the course of their entire relationship, it had been enough to completely throw Jaeyoung out of order. He shook his head violently, trying to stop the memory from taking over his mind. “In that case, I’ll give you the whole weekend to work on it,” Sangwoo said in a generous tone, although he was only giving Jaeyoung a couple more days. “Please email me the finished product by midnight on Sunda—” “Nope. And don’t call me and nag about it, either.” “Why?” “That’s not how I work, okay? Sometimes I spend the whole day being unproductive, but I still get things done a few hours before the deadline.” Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t look very happy. “Basically, you’re a ticking time bomb.” “A proper leader can manage people well regardless of how they work. Plus, trust me—I’ve never missed an important deadline.” “Do you consider this project to be important?” “Hmm… Kinda, I guess. Depends on how important you make it for me.” “Very ambiguous.” Sangwoo’s face remained totally impassive as he began to pack up his things, signaling yet another early end to their meeting. The weirdo didn’t even spare Jaeyoung another glance—simply carefully zipped up his backpack, slung it across his shoulder, and walked over to the door. But after he’d pushed it halfway open, he turned his head to face Jaeyoung. “I’ll see you at the next meeting.” “Leaving already?” “Yes.” “Aaand lemme guess. You still won’t tell me why you’re leaving so early.” “Correct.” The weirdo stepped through the door, and it clicked shut behind him. For a long moment, Jaeyoung just stared at the space where Sangwoo had been sitting. It was no surprise they weren’t getting along—they were polar opposites. They were bound to clash, no matter the topic of conversation, which meant the rift between them would only grow wider over time. And if Jaeyoung ever tried to get chummy, Sangwoo would push him away by snapping at him like some kind of overbearing, micromanaging boss instead of responding in kind. And yet, despite knowing all of this, Jaeyoung had walked right into Sangwoo’s trap, baited by the possibility that he’d be able to pursue his personal interests. Now, the logical part of his brain was screaming at him, reminding him he didn’t have to endure Sangwoo’s verbal abuse and that he would benefit much more in the long run if he just quit the project. But unfortunately, Jaeyoung wasn’t willing to take such a large blow to his pride. Just you wait and see. He imagined Sangwoo gaping at the sight of his new character design, his eyes sparkling as he clasped his hands together in delight. “Oh my gosh, you’re the absolute freaking best, Jaeyoung!” he gushed in a completely uncharacteristic manner. Jaeyoung scoffed bitterly, scooping up his rejected designs before carelessly folding them in half. He’d finally found the motivation needed to work on the project. Despite his initial determination, Jaeyoung found himself struggling to come up with designs that would satisfy his robot of an employer. Though he sat at his desk, materials at the ready, any bit of concentration he managed to gather was scattered to the wind whenever he thought of Sangwoo’s infuriatingly impassive face. No matter what he came up with, he could practically hear the weirdo’s voice echoing in the back of his mind: “How disappointing. I was wrong to have so much faith in your abilities. Let’s go with the original designs.” The words unsurprisingly came easily to his imaginary Sangwoo’s lips—after all, in his world, art basically amounted to doodling a few lines. Jaeyoung came up with a few character designs on Friday, then tossed them in the garbage and went out to drink with his friends. They flocked to a K-BBQ place near campus for some soju and pork belly, then sat down at a bar in Yeonseok-dong for cocktails. After dancing at a club for a couple hours and chugging a few cans of beer, there was no way his fingers could even hold a pen. Half of Saturday was spent nursing his hangover. A steaming bowl of hangover soup brought him back to life later in the evening, after which he watched two movies back-to-back. Finally, on Sunday—after sleeping in until early afternoon—Jaeyoung sat back down at his desk. Fortunately, inspiration came to him right away, and his first quick doodle ended up looking pretty decent. The character was gender-neutral, with frizzy red hair tied up in a ponytail and a laser gun in each hand. The genre, he decided, would be survival with action/adventure elements and a weapon system based on character evolution. The setting could be in a steampunk dystopia. After sketching a scene of the character attached to a parachute, floating downward as a building exploded in the background, Jaeyoung turned his focus to creating two separate sketches of their evolutions. The first involved the character growing a set of wings, while the second showed them evolving into a jaguar form. When he was finished, Jaeyoung was certain that nobody in their right mind would compare his work to Suyoung’s sad little carrot man—not even Sangwoo. He grabbed a sticky note, scribbled down a few lines about the game’s concept and storyline, and stuck it on the design. Now he was more than ready for tomorrow’s meeting. Totally satisfied, Jaeyoung went out for dinner. One of his friends from high school had just opened a webfoot octopus restaurant, and he’d invited Jaeyoung to come and check it out. After dinner, Jaeyoung headed to a small auditorium to watch an indie artist perform live. All in all, it was a good day. “It could work…if we were developing this game for PC users.” Damn it! Jaeyoung groaned inwardly. The second rejection stung even more than the first. Sangwoo rummaged in his folder a bit before producing a thick packet of paper. “Here is an analysis of the top hundred games that are currently on the Android and iOS app stores,” he began mechanically. “Sixty-eight percent are simple arcade, action, or puzzle games. While RPGs make up about eleven percent of the list, all of them were developed by large companies. This strongly suggests that your plan cannot be implemented as a mobile game by two people in four months.” “You’re the one who said you’d work with whatever idea I wanted to try out,” Jaeyoung grumbled back. “Yes, within reason.” Sangwoo pushed Jaeyoung’s character designs aside, his face as flat and emotionless as ever. The cold, swift rejection left Jaeyoung dumbfounded, and he sat there silently for a long moment. “I understand why you made the mistake, since you’ve never played mobile games before,” Sangwoo continued. “But now I’d like you to focus on the original draft instead of wasting any more of our time.” The words snapped Jaeyoung out of his daze. “No.” “What is it now?” Although Sangwoo’s voice remained monotonous, Jaeyoung could detect a hint of irritation in his words. But instead of responding right away, he took a moment to contemplate. Why, exactly, was he cowering like he’d screwed everything up when Sangwoo was being a jerk and trying to enforce an insane schedule? He was acting like some rookie designer—which he absolutely wasn’t. Springing to his feet, Jaeyoung slammed both his hands on the meeting room table. “I promise your precious time won’t be wasted,” he declared as Sangwoo slowly looked up at him. “Give me one more day.” It wasn’t actually a request—Jaeyoung fully planned on giving himself another day whether Sangwoo allowed it or not. However, what happened next completely upset his expectations. The younger man glanced away slightly and sighed. “Fine.” Huh…? Did he actually say that? Jaeyoung stared at Sangwoo intently, fighting the urge to demand, “Who are you and what have you done with Sangwoo Choo?” Clearing his throat, Sangwoo began to gather the documents on the table into a neat stack. Yet again, Jaeyoung found himself studying Sangwoo’s side profile, angular fingers, and bony wrists. Then Jaeyoung snapped back to his senses and quickly walked over to the door. But right as he took a step out of the meeting room, he heard Sangwoo’s low voice behind him. “You’re a hard person to work with.” “Yeah, well, you’re certainly one to talk,” Jaeyoung grumbled back. He didn’t even ask when their next meeting would be before he resumed walking. “See you tomorrow.” “I will.” It was a little past five o’clock. Jaeyoung’s original plan had been to grab dinner with a friend and then go clubbing, but instead, he headed straight to the on-campus art studio. The underclassman who’d been assigned the desk next to his blinked in surprise when Jaeyoung appeared, which was understandable—seeing him in the studio had become as rare as a bigfoot sighting. Though he’d requested a spot, he hadn’t had any reason to use it lately since he didn’t have any projects to work on. Jaeyoung turned on the PC on his desk—which appeared to have sat there, untouched for the entire time he’d been absent—slid into his seat, and cracked his knuckles. “What are you doing here, Jaeyoung?” his neighbor asked reverently. “Got something to do. Where’s Yuna?” “Um…not sure. She was here just a few minutes ago…” As he waited for the PC to boot up, Jaeyoung went on his phone and looked at which games had the top rankings on the app store. The list was full of intriguing action games; there was no way a children’s game would survive in that kind of market. But, more importantly, the stupid Veggie Man game concept didn’t mesh with him as a designer. When the home screen of the PC finally popped up, Jaeyoung pulled up an empty document and typed: “Design Proposal.” He didn’t usually see the point in adhering to dull formalities, but since Sangwoo was so obsessed with them, he figured he’d play along for once. Section 1 - Market Research and Popular Game Analysis Section 2 - Genre Change Proposal Section 3 – Title Change Proposal Section 4 - Concept and Storyline Section 5 - Characters, Weapons, Monster Designs, and Setting Jaeyoung’s fingers flew across the keyboard as his eyes darted between his phone and the computer screen, analyzing the existing data while simultaneously crafting a new proposal. As for his crumpled pride, it was shoved into a distant corner, where it shouted futile protests. He finished the market analysis in no time, then decided their game would be a side-scrolling shooter. After a brief moment of contemplation, he added a few lines of text describing it as a “retro game with platform-jumping action,” and left the title blank. It felt like his head was a boiling pot overflowing with ideas, the fire underneath fueled by his anger. Imaginary brushstrokes painted a picture in his mind: a sprawling farm, contaminated with cosmic materials after being struck by a meteorite. Only the mutated vegetables, enhanced by the meteorite’s mysterious power, were capable of subduing the animals that had been transformed into grotesque monsters. The plot revolved around a scientist who was obsessed with winning a Nobel Prize in biology—he would try to approach the center of the farm for “research purposes.” Jaeyoung grabbed the first piece of paper within reach and quickly sketched an image of the mad scientist swinging a carrot like a sword. As always, the hardest part was getting started—once that design was complete, more flooded out of him one after another. The radish became a club, the corn turned into a rifle, the seeds became bullets, the pumpkin turned into dynamite, the potatoes became grenades, and the lettuce became booby traps. His pen moved fervently, like his life depended on it. The intensity of his focus was so extreme, he didn’t even realize his phone was ringing until Seongjin—the underclassman with the desk next to him—tapped on his shoulder. Without even looking, Jaeyoung said, “It’s probably Yuna. Just tell her I can’t make it.” “Got it! Hello? It’s me, Seongjin. Yeah, Jaeyoung said he can’t make it… Not sure. I think he’s working on something super important… No, I have no idea what it is. Uh, I don’t think he’s totally lost it yet… Here, she wants to talk to you.” “Tell her I’m not going.” “Yuna, Jaeyoung said he’s definitely not going. No clue. I’m just the messenger, you know… I swear I have no idea what he’s doing. I’m hanging up, okay? Yeah…” Seongjin quickly ended the call and handed the phone back to Jaeyoung. “She said she’s gonna murder you.” Ignoring his comment, Jaeyoung snatched the phone back and checked the app store to see if there were any other games that followed a concept similar to his. He smirked proudly after a moment—of course, no one had. He was the only one who could possibly come up with such a unique idea. Giving himself an invisible pat on the back, Jaeyoung went back to the character designs. Curious, Seongjin snuck closer, glancing at the paper. “Whoa, that looks so good!” he exclaimed in wonder. “What’s this for?” “My study-abroad funds,” Jaeyoung responded, then chuckled under his breath. How was it that he’d gotten so immersed in this stupid project that he’d flaked on a friend at the last minute? It was unbelievable. He had to give it to Sangwoo—the jerk had actually convinced him to get his lazy ass off the couch. This time, he would definitely extract a compliment from Sangwoo’s lips instead of a biting remark. He was sure of it. Gritting his teeth, Jaeyoung gripped his pen tighter. When the time for their next meeting arrived, Jaeyoung showed up fully prepared. He had three different drafts in his arsenal: the first one, which he’d poured his heart and soul into, and two filler drafts he’d brought just in case. The perfectly written proposal he’d brought two copies of, their corners stapled neatly. He’d even paid special attention to his outfit, not that Sangwoo would ever notice. “Hmm…” Sangwoo rumbled as he flipped through the proposal. Jaeyoung fidgeted nervously, wishing he knew what was going through the weirdo’s computer of a brain. His face was as emotionless as usual, but Jaeyoung could detect the slightest of smiles on his lips…or at least, he thought he could. Forcing himself to appear nonchalant, Jaeyoung made a show of leaning back in his chair. Assuming an air of arrogance, he looked down his nose at Sangwoo. When at last the weirdo spoke, it was to ask, “Are you fluent in English?” The question was probably about the title Jaeyoung had suggested: Veggie Venturer. Even though he doubted he’d see the project through to the end, the name “Veggie Man” was simply too tragic. Veggie Venturer was easier to shorten, too—they could go with VeVen or VV. “I’m decent,” Jaeyoung responded. “How surprising. You have many talents.” “That’s rich coming from you. I know you’re bilingual, too.” Sangwoo contemplated this for a moment. “That’s correct. I can speak Korean and Chinese.” “I was talking about Korean and code, actually. You’re fluent in both, right?” For a moment, Sangwoo stared blankly at Jaeyoung, his face filled with incomprehension. A beat later, he narrowed his eyes. “Please try to sound less uneducated in the future. Do you have any idea how many programming languages exist? You essentially just insinuated I was fluent in six languages.” The weirdo stiffly turned his gaze back to the proposal. His fingers flipped the page once, then twice, but he didn’t make any comments suggesting anything needed to be changed. Jaeyoung’s hawklike gaze even caught a tiny nod. Strangely enough, Jaeyoung found himself feeling even more anxious than he’d been while waiting for the results of a competition he’d dedicated six months of his life to. Then, just a moment later, Sangwoo’s face began to shift. The change was minuscule, and Jaeyoung would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been looking for it—the faintest hint of a smile tugged at Sangwoo’s emotionless lips, and his icy eyes curved into two crescent moons. In all honesty, the sight almost took Jaeyoung’s breath away. “This character looks like you,” Sangwoo said. “How?” he barely managed to respond. “It just does.” Jaeyoung quickly reviewed the three character designs he’d come up with in his head: a mad scientist, a weird-looking skeleton, and cartoonish people with heads as big as their bodies. None of them made a flattering comparison. But Sangwoo seemed oblivious to Jaeyoung’s inner turmoil. He silently placed the proposal on the desk, then looked at him across the table. When their gazes met, Jaeyoung witnessed something special he’d never seen before. Sangwoo’s eyes had widened slightly and were abuzz with excitement. “Good job.” The words were simple and brief, but they provided the affirmation Jaeyoung had been longing so desperately for. His chest swelled with pride. To think—he’d gotten a compliment out of the most meticulous, robotic developer in the world. Alas, the hint of emotion slipped away from Sangwoo’s face just as quickly as it had appeared. He regarded Jaeyoung calmly as he announced, “We’ll go with the third character design.” “Huh?” The moment shattered. Jaeyoung snatched up the proposal and flipped through the pages, searching for the first character, the one he had spent the most time and effort on—the mad scientist with frizzy silver hair, spiral glasses, and abnormally large hands and feet. He had made sure to show the man’s bulging muscles through the rips in his lab coat. Just the coloring process alone had taken over an hour. He flipped through two more pages and landed on the third character design, which was a clumsily drawn pair of characters—one male, one female—that he’d come up with in five minutes as filler. The male character was modeled after Sangwoo, with pale skin, sharp eyes, thin limbs, and loose clothes. The only thing missing was his hat. “That’s supposed to be you, correct?” Sangwoo asked, pointing right at the female character. A scowl formed on Jaeyoung’s face as he tried to determine if the weirdo was trying to screw with him or not. He had to be insulting him, right? The character had short orange hair and large eyes that took up nearly half of her face—she looked absolutely nothing like him. Quickly shaking off his shock, Jaeyoung said, “Personally, I really like the first design.” “I prefer the third one.” Jaeyoung shook his head sternly. It may be hard to tell from his personal life, but he happened to be pretty damn good at advocating for himself as a designer. It was a skill he’d acquired after having to cater to too many clients who preferred designs that were “simple yet decorative” or “monotone yet colorful.” And so, for the next two minutes, he passionately explained why the first character design was a perfect fit for their overall concept. Sangwoo nodded at the end of his speech. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts. We’ll go with the third character design.” “The mad scientist gives the adventure a sense of purpose! What do this young man and woman have to do with the plot? Huh?” “You have a valid point. However, I’m going with the third character design.” Jaeyoung threw his hands up in frustration. “But why?” “It’s a conclusion I’ve come to after considering every possible factor available to me,” Sangwoo replied, sounding uncharacteristically vague. There was only one conclusion Jaeyoung could come to: something about those stupid characters with enormous heads had captivated the weirdo. “Come on, let’s just do the first one…” “No.” It was obvious that Sangwoo wasn’t going to yield in the slightest. “Fine! Whatever,” Jaeyoung said with a sigh. There was no point in arguing about it, anyway—now that he’d achieved his goal, he could abandon the project with his pride intact. Sangwoo carefully slipped the proposal into his folder and looked at Jaeyoung. “When you digitize the characters, please separate them into parts. Keep in mind that you’ll need to add animation later. You can keep the original files, but please send them to me in PNG format with the correct dimensions. I’ll email you the guidelines later, along with the specifications and size charts. Please make sure to adhere to them. As for the file names…” Jaeyoung stared blankly at Sangwoo with his chin propped up on one hand, watching the weirdo’s lips move. Everything else seemed to fade away, and Sangwoo’s words turned to gibberish in his ears—he might as well have been listening to birdsong or the barking of a neighborhood dog. It was only when Sangwoo finally stopped talking that his senses snapped back into place. “Are you all right?” Sangwoo asked flatly. “No.” “Perhaps you’re feeling tired after putting so much work into the proposal. Keep it up. Again, make sure to read the materials I email you and adhere to them.” “Right…” “Keep it up”…? The words sounded foreign coming from Sangwoo’s mouth. It was like some motivational speaker had temporarily taken over the weirdo’s vocal cords. But strangely enough, a part of Jaeyoung felt…satisfied. Maybe he’d been wrong to think that Sangwoo was a robot-brained jerk who hadn’t been socialized properly when he was a kid—maybe he only complimented people when he really meant it. “Also, come over here,” Sangwoo added abruptly. Jaeyoung glanced up in surprise. “Huh? Why?” “I’m going to praise you by patting you on the head. Consider yourself forewarned.” The weirdo rose to his feet and reached out hesitantly. Jaeyoung couldn’t do anything but watch, frozen, as his fingers came closer. Sangwoo’s hand hovered near Jaeyoung’s forehead for a moment, then lifted up and came back down on top of his head in a distinctly mechanical movement once, twice, three times before quickly withdrawing. Reflexively, Jaeyoung squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had patted him on the head. It had to have been when he was a child. Face burning, head spinning, he pressed one hand to his lips. The door to the meeting room clicked shut. Jaeyoung’s eyes shot open, but a quick glance around the room revealed Sangwoo had left. A heavy exhale escaped his lungs, followed by another. “What the hell was that…?” Jaeyoung staggered out of the meeting room, dazed. He suddenly understood why all those sailors in Greek myths had swum toward the sirens singing to them on the rocks. His name spoken oh so sweetly had yanked him into the ring by the lapels, but it was the headpats that’d hit him like a blow to the face. He felt tingly, like his entire body wanted to sneeze. When Jaeyoung walked out of the library, he stared up at the sky, feeling a sudden urge to spread his arms and spin. The sky was an unbelievably vivid shade of cyan. His body was throbbing with exhaustion, but his heart was pounding and a smile was tugging at his lips. The blue screen that his mind had been stuck on, torturing him, suddenly turned into the turquoise hue of the clear sky. At that moment, he knew he could never quit the project. Even as Jaeyoung smiled to himself like an idiot, the gears in his head were starting to turn rapidly. Something was off about what’d just happened. Sure, it was possible the robot had finally learned how to give compliments—but the way he’d gone about it was so uncharacteristic for him that it was almost bizarre. As soon as Jaeyoung accounted for how Sangwoo Choo functioned as a program, though, the situation became comprehensible. When he’d patted the weirdo on the head in the past, the action must have gotten mapped to his internal controller. Then he’d hit the button and returned the behavior as praise, likely assuming Jaeyoung liked headpats himself. Despite the logical explanation, Jaeyoung found he was slightly uneasy about the whole thing. A mixture of feelings swirled in his gut—a nagging knowledge that he’d missed something important, a persistent anxiety over the precariousness of the peace he was enjoying now, and an uncontrollable excitement. He blindly walked into the on-campus studio, only to find Yuna and Seongjin had already taken up residence. The moment Yuna saw him, she started ranting about how he’d “totally stood her up” the previous night. Jaeyoung nodded absently, letting the words drift in one ear and out the other. “…and it got so crazy after midnight. I even got her to sign my back after the performance!” Yuna raved. “Good to hear you had fun.” “Yeah, you missed out! What the hell were you doing, anyway?” “A high-priority task,” he said, borrowing Sangwoo’s way of speaking. “That’s what I’m gonna do right now, actually. Stop talking to me.” As Yuna stared at him like he had just sprouted a second head, he realized Seongjin was packing up his PC. “And what are you doing?” “I enlisted.” “Huh?” Seongjin morosely informed them he was taking a gap year to enlist because his crush had rejected him and he’d lost all will to live. The underclassman’s story finally stopped Yuna from growling at Jaeyoung long enough to offer him a solemn word of comfort. Jaeyoung also promised to treat him to dinner. Seongjin was so touched he began tearfully spill his heart out to the two older students, but Jaeyoung’s attention span rapidly ran out. He only managed to listen for about five minutes before he turned around and booted up his PC. Strangely, he couldn’t shake the sense Sangwoo was rubbing off on him. He felt as if he was starting to morph into a workaholic, which was beyond strange to think about. Part of him felt like he’d walked right into the weirdo’s trap, but even if he had, it wasn’t like he could just ditch the project now. Jaeyoung scanned his character designs, uploaded them onto the PC, and began to digitize them with his design software. “All right, I’m heading home!” Yuna announced, then glanced at Jaeyoung. “Hellooo? Are you gonna keep working?” “What time is it?” “Almost midnight.” Jaeyoung blinked blearily and glanced at his watch. Yuna was right. Sighing, he tried to recall what he’d done for the past few hours. It’d been around seven when he got back to the studio after treating Seongjin to dinner, and then…he’d been working nonstop ever since. He stretched, a wave of exhaustion suddenly washing over him. Yuna peeked over his shoulder curiously. “What are you so obsessed with? Something profitable, maybe? Hmm?” How am I supposed to explain this? After a brief moment of contemplation, Jaeyoung said simply, “It’s a mobile game.” “Well, it sure looks like you’re having fun with it.” He nodded silently. It wasn’t like he could say “Thanks! I’m working extra hard so I can get headpats from the developer!” Leaning back in his chair, Jaeyoung decided he’d grab a cup of coffee and head home. But before he could act on it, he got a text. It was the exact same businesslike text that the weirdo had sent him last time, but Jaeyoung was so blinded by his attraction to Sangwoo that receiving it made him feel giddy. Not to mention, he had more than enough stuff to send the guy, since he’d worked through the night. He immediately opened up his email and began to attach the image files…then paused as an idea popped into his mind. Smirking, Jaeyoung leaned back in his chair and waited instead of shooting off the email. Three minutes passed as he stared at his phone, bouncing his leg. The phone rang precisely at midnight. He waited six seconds before picking up, taking the time to clear his throat and make his voice as gravelly as possible. “Hey, Sangwoo.” “H-hello…?” “Why’d you call?” “Oh… I didn’t get an email from you, and it’s past the deadline, so… I wanted to remind you.” “My bad. Totally slipped my mind. Thanks for calling, okay? I’ll send them over right away.” Silence ensued from Sangwoo’s end. “Did you have dinner?” “Yes.” “What’d you have?” “I went to the dining hall. Why?” “Nice! What were they serving today?” “Rice, soybean paste soup with greens, kimchi, stir-fried sausage and vegetables, stir-fried anchovies, and a yogurt drink. But what does that matter to you?” “Just wanted to hear your voice.” Another looong beat of silence ensued from Sangwoo’s end. “I like listening to people speak, you see.” “What a bizarre hobby. Goodbye.” Sangwoo hung up without giving him the chance to respond. Jaeyoung tilted his head thoughtfully—it seemed the results of his test had come back negative. If Sangwoo had feelings for him, he wouldn’t have given such a cold response and hung up on him, right? Maybe I was mistaken. Honestly, that would be for the best. Behind him, Yuna muttered, “Oh my God. What the hell was that?” “What?” “Please don’t ever talk like that around me again.” “Wasn’t talking to you anyway.” Sangwoo’s feelings might be unclear, but Jaeyoung had a much better understanding of his own now. These feelings he was experiencing were the early signs of love—which meant it was time for him to bask in all the butterflies he wanted, free of the weighty responsibilities that came with a deeper romance. This was Jaeyoung’s favorite stage in a relationship—as long as he maintained his boundaries, things wouldn’t get complicated, messy, or even risky. He was confident he could handle it. He’d never once lost himself to his emotions. But then…why was he polishing the forbidden fruit that was Sangwoo if he wasn’t going to take a bite? Jaeyoung smiled bitterly as he looked at his folder full of character designs. That weirdo had definitely played some kind of trick on him. There was no other way to explain why he was scurrying around at the guy’s beck and call. Jaeyoung opened his email again and attached the work he’d toiled so hard to scrape together. Sent. Mission complete. When Jaeyoung met with Sangwoo the next day, the weirdo was—as always—as stiff as a rusted robot. “I looked over the files you sent,” he pronounced. “Overall, they’re fine, but I want to go over a few things.” Without sparing the other man a glance, Sangwoo opened his laptop and pulled up the files Jaeyoung had sent him the night before, then zoomed in on one of the images and pointed at the corner. “As you can see, there is some pixelation here. Please fix it.” “How the hell is anybody gonna notice that on their phone?” “Even minutiae are important. Please be more careful moving forward.” Next, Sangwoo pulled up two of the weapon designs. “These should have the same color code. Please fix it.” Jaeyoung had to give it to the guy—he really did have a good eye for detail. Although the “errors” were pretty insignificant, Sangwoo technically wasn’t wrong. After pointing out a few more things that needed fixing, Sangwoo sorted the folder by file name. “I specified in the guideline to rename the files before you send them over. They should all go: category, underscore, subcategory, underscore, with two-digit numbers at the end.” Jaeyoung pursed his lips silently. “You are missing an underscore here, and all of the numbers are single digits. Please add a zero in front moving forward. Also, don’t mix uppercase and lowercase letters. Only use lowercase. I thought you’d worked on web projects before. Was I mistaken? I fixed your mistakes this time, but please be more mindful in the future.” The thing was, Jaeyoung had been mindful. How the hell was everything supposed to be perfect when he’d created dozens of files in one night while working under an insanely tight deadline? Given that he usually named files something like final_final11_frfrfinal_1_final.ai, a mistake or two was to be expected. “I bet you even bleed code,” Jaeyoung snarked. Sangwoo ignored him and packed up his laptop. Although Jaeyoung didn’t wanna admit it, a part of him was waiting for the weirdo to say something like “Good job” again. However, there was only a cold silence. After all that work, this is what I get? he thought bitterly. Clearly, he was fooling himself, believing that Sangwoo was actually interested in him. Sangwoo finished packing up his things, then quietly stood up from his chair. Without thinking, Jaeyoung called out, “Hey!” “What?” There was a beat of silence. “How…are your classes going?” It was the type of question a distant uncle would pose at a family gathering, but Jaeyoung couldn’t think of anything else to ask. With a slightly bewildered—maybe even irritated—look on his face, Sangwoo replied, “They’re going well. I have already studied the material for tomorrow’s classes.” “Well, aren’t you an overachiever?” “I have been feeling good lately. It’s much easier to focus in class these days.” “Yeah, yeah, it’s probably because I’m not bothering you in class anymore. You’re welcome.” Jaeyoung knew exactly what would happen next. Sangwoo would scowl at him like he was some kind of sewer rat and say, “Are you done?” However, the weirdo simply glanced up, avoided his eyes, and fixed his glare on a random corner of the ceiling. “Not exactly,” he finally said. “What do you mean?” “I’d prefer to keep my reasons—” “To yourself. Right. What, is that your new catchphrase or something?” This was Sangwoo’s cue to commence his escape from the meeting room. He began to walk toward the door. Unconsciously, Jaeyoung reached out to grab his arm. But, remembering that the weirdo treated physical contact like the plague, he changed course just in time to grab Sangwoo’s backpack strap instead. “Hey, do I look like I’ve lost weight?” “No. Let go of me.” Jaeyoung had bought himself about a second with his rambling—he had approximately three more left before Sangwoo was gone entirely. The gears in his head spun frantically into motion. In the back of his mind, a nearly flawless idea began to form. “You know I have to make a ton of edits now, right?” he pointed out. “Some of the stuff you want me to do seem kinda confusing, so it’d be nice if you could, y’know, help me look over things.” “You’re really having trouble comprehending those simple directions?” “Hey, better safe than sorry, right? Plus, I bet you’ve never been inside the art building. Come on, I’ll show you around my studio. You said you’re done studying, so what’s the problem?” “Your…studio?” Jaeyoung had no earthly idea what the weirdo was thinking. His robotic voice, paired with the damn hat that was covering his eyes, made even guessing impossible. He gave Sangwoo’s backpack strap a light tug. “Come on, it’s not like you have anything better to do.” “I do, in fact, have many better things to do,” the weirdo said stonily, crossing his arms. “But I would like to inspect your working environment. I doubt it’s ideal. It’d be best for both of us if we maximized your productivity, since you have so much to do.” “Yes, exactly!” Jaeyoung had been draped over the meeting room desk like a hunk of seaweed, but Sangwoo’s words sent him springing to his feet. The weirdo’s eyes widened at the sight. “What, right now?” “Yeah, obviously.” “I’m not…ready yet.” “What is there to be ready for? It’ll only take a moment. It’s not a big deal. Follow me.” Jaeyoung marched forward, Sangwoo’s backpack strap in hand. The weirdo obediently let himself be hauled along, not saying a single word. It was the beginning of April, with clear skies up above and a pleasant breeze blowing down below. In terms of weather, it was probably Jaeyoung’s favorite time of year. He whistled cheerfully as he strolled along, making sure to give brief tugs on the strap if he began to lag behind. Before long, they’d reached the College of Arts and Design. Jaeyoung only released Sangwoo’s backpack once they reached the door to the studio. “This workspace is limited to four people each. You have to put in a request every semester to be able to use it.” “Does that mean there might be other people here as well?” “There’ll be two at most, but one of them recently started his military service. The other one does her own thing, so don’t worry.” “Is she my upperclassman?” “She’s the same year as you, but she’s my age. You can say hi if you want.” Sangwoo’s face tensed, as if the information made him nervous. Normally, he would’ve addressed her politely since she was older than him, but the fact that she was a junior, too, meant that the level of social nicety he owed her wasn’t as clear-cut. Jaeyoung could tell the situation was throwing Sangwoo for a loop. Jaeyoung gave the door to the studio a push, revealing a space with four large desks. “Go right ahead,” he told Sangwoo. The weirdo shuffled awkwardly into the studio. Jaeyoung suddenly found himself feeling strangely embarrassed. The colorful posters covering the studio walls looked messy to his eyes, and the floor was conspicuously littered with empty boxes, crumpled bits of paper, empty bags of chips, a broken speaker, a hair straightener, a leg massager, and a single slipper. The sound of Yuna’s heavy metal music filled the space, sounding several times louder than it actually was. Watching his studiomate’s bleach-blond hair whip back and forth as she engaged in some enthusiastically violent headbanging, Jaeyoung started to wonder if he’d been too optimistic in thinking she and the weirdo would get along. “Hey, Yuna!” he called out. “Look over here.” “Why?” she demanded, not even glancing his way. Jaeyoung looked over at Sangwoo, who looked like he’d seen a ghost strolling around in broad daylight. Jaeyoung shook his head. He must have been out of his mind, thinking these two could be friends. Maybe if Yuna hadn’t been wearing a bright-red leather jacket and a black choker that day, there would have been a chance, but… “Whatever. Ignore her. You can sit over there,” he said, pointing Sangwoo at Seongjin’s empty seat. The weirdo stiffly walked over, then hung his backpack on the back of the chair. This was the moment Yuna finally decided to turn around and gasp dramatically. “Who’s that?!” “An underclassman who’s working on a project with me. Go back to whatever you were doing.” “Whoa, you mean that game? What’s his name? Is he a visual arts guy, too?” “Sangwoo Choo. Computer science. I know he looks mad, but ignore it. That’s his happy face.” “Sangwoo Choo? Sangchoo Choo?! That’s a hilarious name!” Yuna burst out laughing, clapping her hands like a seal. A part of Jaeyoung thought Sangwoo might simply get up and leave, but he remained in his seat, looking on like an incredibly disapproving statue. Grabbing one of the assortment of individually wrapped crackers lying around Seongjin’s desk, Jaeyoung handed one to the weirdo. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” he ordered. “How could I possibly do that in such an unsettling environment?” “Good point.” Jaeyoung reached out to boot up the PC on his desk, but Sangwoo swiftly raised a hand and stopped him. “Clean up the garbage first.” The desk was strewn with things like crumbs, soda cans, empty cigarette cases, and crumpled toilet paper. Jaeyoung obediently gathered up the trash and threw everything in the garbage can. The stuff on the floor was carelessly shoved into a corner. As soon as he sat down, he received his next order. “Get rid of the socks.” Jaeyoung grabbed the socks he had put behind the monitor and stuffed them in his backpack. “Ventilate the room.” He trudged over to the windows and opened them. “Organize your books.” With a sigh, he neatly stacked the few books he had lying around. “Now, turn on the PC.” Jaeyoung silently followed the weirdo’s order and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “Clean up your desktop before you start working.” “Seriously? This is my private workspace, you know…” “It bothers me. Just do it.” The continuous orders were starting to become slightly annoying, but Jaeyoung went ahead and deleted the files he didn’t need, rearranging the rest into their correct folders. “You should really try to be tidier,” Sangwoo remarked. “Hey, you’re the one who’s invading my territory here,” Jaeyoung responded playfully, but there was still a sharp edge to his voice. “Lay off.” “That is incredibly ironic, coming from you.” “Ha! I didn’t realize you knew how to crack jokes.” A smile played on Jaeyoung’s lips. His first instinct was to put Sangwoo in a headlock or ruffle his hair, but he knew both those things were strictly forbidden. For a while, Sangwoo sat silently in place, arms crossed and eyes glaring disapprovingly at the ceiling. Then he spun his chair around and looked directly at Yuna. “Excuse me. This is a shared space. Your music is too loud.” Looking slightly baffled, she glanced between Sangwoo and Jaeyoung. “I see that you have a nice set of headphones there. Use them.” Yuna wasn’t exactly the meek or submissive type, but it seemed the weirdo had struck her completely speechless. As she sat there with her mouth agape, Jaeyoung went over and forced the headphones onto her head. When he turned them on, the music completely disappeared, much to Sangwoo’s visible relief. “Now, pull up your software.” It was time for Jaeyoung to shine. He quickly sat back down, flexed his fingers, then placed his left hand on the keyboard and his right on the mouse. “Get started,” the weirdo ordered curtly, then turned his attention to the open book he’d placed on the now clean desk. A part of Jaeyoung had expected Sangwoo to act like a micromanaging boss, but once the weirdo was done examining his working environment, he left him alone for the most part. He was so silent, in fact, that Jaeyoung almost forgot he was there. Other than Yuna’s occasional humming, the sounds of his keyboard and mouse clicking were now the only things Jaeyoung could hear. The studio was practically distraction-free. His heart sped up just a bit, and a thin layer of sweat spread over his palms. It was a pleasant feeling. Diligently, he turned his attention to creating one of the level maps for the game. Time flew by—maybe several hours. When he glanced to the side, he saw that Sangwoo was no longer looking at his computer science textbook. Instead, the younger man had his elbows propped up on the desk, his eyes fixated on Jaeyoung’s computer screen. Immediately, Jaeyoung’s gaze was drawn to Sangwoo’s long, straight neck. The black long-sleeve tee he was wearing was slightly stretched out around his nape, revealing a mole that stood out strikingly against his pale skin. If he could just rip that T-shirt off and sink his teeth into that pale shoulder… Nope. Stop. Jaeyoung hurriedly scrubbed the mental image of himself leaving red marks all over Sangwoo’s snowy skin from his mind, forcing his eyes back to his computer screen. Phew, that was a close one, he thought. If he’d decided to make his fantasies a reality, he would’ve definitely shown up on the news tomorrow—and not for a good reason. [BREAKING] College Student Takes Upperclassman to Court for Biting His Shoulder “Yes, it hurt a lot. I’ve gotten tested for rabies, and I’m waiting for the results. No, I’m not planning on withdrawing the lawsuit. I can only hope he gets the maximum sentence for his crime…” Jaeyoung’s cursor paused for a long moment on the screen as he imagined the weirdo giving an interview in his typical robotic tone. Noticing his distraction, Sangwoo gave him a questioning look. “Can I help you?” Jaeyoung demanded abruptly, feeling a sudden need to defend himself. “I was thinking that I picked a fantastic designer.” Jaeyoung blinked. “Your lifestyle leaves much to be desired,” the weirdo continued nonchalantly, “but your skills are undeniable.” It was nothing Jaeyoung hadn’t heard before, but Sangwoo had a way of leaving him completely dumbfounded. Somehow, the words sounded infinitely more special when they came from his mouth. Jaeyoung’s hands darted across the keyboard, his fingers dancing even faster on the keys. It was yet another day on the grind—the only difference was that his desk was clean, the studio was much quieter, there was a fresh breeze, and someone was studying right next to him. So why did he feel as refreshed as if he’d gone on a picnic? That first day, Sangwoo studied for exactly one hour, then left. He rushed out of the studio so fast that Jaeyoung hadn’t even had the chance to call out his name. But everything changed on the second day. After eating dinner, Sangwoo showed up, laptop in hand, and proceeded to neatly organize the resources Jaeyoung had prepared and incorporate them into his code. Jaeyoung, meanwhile, had unhurriedly continued working on completing the game’s various level maps. With the designs for the characters, weapons, and effects completed, he’d figured he could relax slightly. But every time he slacked off even a bit, Sangwoo was there, cracking the metaphorical whip. It seemed like the weirdo had decided that if Jaeyoung wasn’t going to put his own nose to the grindstone, Sangwoo would do it for him. “You have to match my pace if we’re going to collaborate.” “That kind of mindset is completely inappropriate. You should know better—I thought you were basically a professional.” “Stop bouncing your leg.” “Sit up straight.” “Was that a yawn? With the pitiful amount of work you’ve gotten done, the word ‘tired’ shouldn’t even be in your vocabulary.” “You had plenty of time to think over whether or not you should take on this project. If you want to jump ship now, too bad—that chance sailed long ago.” For all intents and purposes, Sangwoo seemed to hate everything about Jaeyoung aside from his skills as a designer. But after enduring three days of constant nagging and criticism, Jaeyoung found he’d reached a point of transcendence where nothing the weirdo said fazed him anymore. “Of course, Mr. Choo. Whateeever you want.” “You got it, Your Majesty! I forgot for a sec that I’m but a lowly peasant.” “What are you, a damn loan shark? If you’re not, then there’s still time to change your profession.” “Hold up, I gotta find the phone number for the Department of Labor. I need to report you.” “Dude, if you keep pushing me like this…I might be compelled to smash this PC.” “Give me a break already…” Really, it was inevitable that the two of them would clash often—despite the staggering workload required to follow the absurd schedule Sangwoo had created, the younger man was still determined to follow it. And despite Jaeyoung’s insistent promises that he would finish everything when he got a burst of energy, Sangwoo didn’t believe him. Yuna usually ended up getting so annoyed with their bickering that she willingly put on her headphones the moment they started going at it. As for Jaeyoung, though he grumbled and complained, he didn’t regret bringing Sangwoo to the studio the tiniest bit. He was having the time of his life. “I need a fifteen-minute break, Mr. Choo!” Jaeyoung exclaimed, pushing his mouse aside and stretching. It was currently Monday. Over the past weekend, he’d had not one but two sets of plans: First, he’d agreed to play some basketball with a few of his friends, and after that, he’d promised to hit up some places for drinks with another group of his buddies. In actuality, however, he’d ditched drinks altogether with the excuse that he was “busy”—prompting a barrage of angry texts—and left the basketball game after-party early. The latter had unfortunately earned him the nickname “Cinderella.” So, why exactly had he made all these sacrifices? Truthfully, he’d just wanted to go to the studio and finish up the five level maps he’d been working on for the game, making every single correction Sangwoo requested. And so he had—in fact, they’d turned out pretty damn good. Despite that, the idea of Jaeyoung taking fifteen minutes off seemed to displease the weirdo. He glared at Jaeyoung before finally saying, “Fine.” Of course, Jaeyoung knew that the moment his time was up, Sangwoo would come order him to get back to work. Not wasting even a second, he got up and walked over to the cot in the corner of the studio, brushed Yuna’s clothes to the floor, and plopped himself down. Sangwoo, meanwhile, remained seated. His back was ramrod straight as he typed into his code editor. At this point, Jaeyoung was accustomed to seeing him in the studio late in the evening. “You should probably take a break, too,” he called out. “I have a lot of work to do.” “Yeah, yeah, I know. But you still need a break.” “I can’t while I still have tasks to complete.” At this, Jaeyoung shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just keep distracting you, then. Make it so you have no other choice.” “In England in the 1850s, when trees began to darken because of pollution, light-colored peppered moths decreased while dark-colored peppered moths thrived.” “Um…how is that relevant to this discussion, exactly?” “I’m illustrating that living creatures instinctively adapt to external threats.” “Oh, I see. So I’m pollution, and you’re the poor moth? Have fun changing your wing colors, then. I’ll be rooting for you!” “If you wish to help, it’d be best if you simply refrained from speaking.” As always, Sangwoo was acting like some vending machine that gave you facts at the push of a button. Aware that there was no way to win the argument, Jaeyoung turned his attention to his phone instead. After replying to a few texts, he began to play a music video from his favorite band. Back when Yuna and Seongjin were the only other occupants of the studio, he’d blasted music as he liked when he was working. But now, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d played a song so the whole room could hear—just that it had been before Sangwoo unofficially joined the studio. Yuna had protested the new “rule” at first, but now she put on her headphones with a big sigh whenever Sangwoo arrived. She had no other choice, since he’d read her the riot act a couple of times already. Today, though, she’d headed out early enough to avoid having to endure the unjust weight upon her ears. Even as Jaeyoung closed his eyes and enjoyed the music, he was waiting for Sangwoo’s rebuke. The band’s synthesizer gave the song a dreamy feel, as did the low, deep hum of the bass and the singer’s languidly smooth vocals. The drumbeats stirred up Jaeyoung’s spirit, while the electric guitar pulled at something deep in his heart. He cracked one eye open. Sangwoo was still typing away, back straight as a board. “So you like this song, huh?” Jaeyoung said slyly. “Not particularly.” “This band is called Psyche—” “Yes, Psychedel. I know them.” “The title is ‘Mag—’” “‘Magnetic Field.’ It’s the eighth track on their fifth album, Electricity. Now, be quiet.” His response shocked Jaeyoung so much that he dropped his phone. Psychedel, his favorite artist, wasn’t exactly well-known in South Korea. The fact that Sangwoo knew the name of the album and the track number meant the weirdo had to be an avid listener despite his denial. As Jaeyoung struggled to come up with something to say, the playlist automatically advanced to the next song. It was a South Korean indie band that people rarely recognized. “Trumpeter’s second album, Bullshit, track number twelve. ‘Gonna Overthrow the Boss and Take Over the Company.’” For an entire minute, Jaeyoung stared at Sangwoo’s black hat. Do we have the same taste in music? What were the odds, really? Suddenly feeling elated, Jaeyoung played the next song. “Jochiwon Band’s first album, Red and Black. Track number seven, ‘The Red Giant.’” “Holy shit!” Jaeyoung exclaimed. “This is crazy. Our musical preferences are basically identical!” “No, it’s not,” Sangwoo responded petulantly. “Please refrain from making such claims in the future.” But Jaeyoung wasn’t going to let himself be fooled this time. If Sangwoo knew the exact track number of each of the songs, that meant he’d probably listened to the albums countless times. Still riding the high of this realization, Jaeyoung flipped through the rest of his playlist— Sangwoo recognized every single one of the songs, regardless of the genre and whether the artists were international or South Korean. That song-recognition phone app—Shazoo, was it…?—was nothing in comparison. Jaeyoung went to hit the next button again, but his finger slipped. Instead of one of his songs, a popular K-pop track started blasting from his phone. This time, there was radio silence from Sangwoo, even though he’d identified the other songs within ten seconds. “Don’t know this one, huh?” he asked curiously. “How am I supposed to know what it is?” The thing was, most people would have no trouble identifying this particular song since it was everywhere these days. Kinda weird… Jaeyoung gave his head a confused scratch. “Look at this. The tip of the reinforced grenade is missing the outline. Please fix it. Once you’re done, take a look at the corn as well. Also, it’s been fifteen minutes. Back to work.” That little… Jaeyoung stubbornly stayed reclined on the cot for about five seconds, then trudged back to his chair. Sangwoo glanced at him, then immediately turned back to his laptop. How can someone be so adorable but also not at the same time? He reached out toward the weirdo, fully intending on delivering a hard pinch to his cheek, then remembered that physical contact was forbidden—but Sangwoo was already glaring at him with his brow furrowed. Thinking fast, Jaeyoung performed a complex maneuver with his hand and ended it with a loud clap. “Would you look at that? A mosquito!” “There are no mosquitoes around. It’s April.” “Well, I saw one right there.” “Let me see your palm, then.” Jaeyoung made a show of checking his hands. “Oops, looks like it escaped!” Frowning even more, Sangwoo began to type on his laptop again. The screen was filled with all sorts of gibberish that Jaeyoung wasn’t interested in even trying to understand, which made Sangwoo look like some omnipotent deity as he worked. For the longest time, Jaeyoung stared at Sangwoo with his chin propped on his hands. Then, without thinking, he asked, “Why are you developing this game, anyway?” Belatedly, he realized the question had probably come to his mind a few weeks too late. He had no idea why Sangwoo was so obsessed with developing Veggie Venturer. The guy didn’t understand anything about making game content, creating graphics, or crafting sounds—his only talent lay in programming. Not to mention, it seemed off-brand for him to do anything that required collaboration with an outsider, like a designer or project manager, when he was the furthest thing from being a team player. “Because I enjoy games.” The response caught Jaeyoung off guard. In his head, Sangwoo had always been a weirdo who had no hobbies or things he particularly enjoyed. “There’s a game development company that I’m interested in working for. I played one of their games for the first time when I was fifteen years old. It was so entertaining that I stayed up all night, something I’d never done before in my life. It was a turning point for me. I’ve been studying English and game development ever since because I want to develop a game of my own just like it.” Sangwoo glanced at Jaeyoung. “I know. You didn’t ask,” he said, and turned his eyes back to the screen. Chuckling under his breath, Jaeyoung shook his head. “No, no. That was actually kinda cool to hear. Well, what was the game?” “Starkraft 1.” Jaeyoung made a mental note to never play Starkraft against Sangwoo if they ever went to an internet café together. “What was your dream before you decided to become a game developer?” “An excavator operator.” Jaeyoung was struck speechless for a moment, but then his mind began turning, reviewing the new facts he’d learned. Apparently, Sangwoo wasn’t a machine programmed to do nothing but schoolwork—he knew how to enjoy music, and he even had a dream. Remembering how the weirdo’s eyes had blazed with passion, Jaeyoung was shell-shocked once more. “I’m planning on joining the company in the latter half of next year,” Sangwoo added. “The success of Veggie Venturer will help me get there.” “Y’know, you said this project would help me with my portfolio, but it sounds like you’re mostly worried about yours.” “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Veggie Venturer was still a work in progress, with only two people grinding away on an insane schedule to get it done. It was crazy for Sangwoo to act like the game taking off was a foregone conclusion—Jaeyoung knew that. But listening to the weirdo lay out the path he had planned to achieve his dream job, he somehow sounded more cool and confident than foolish. It wouldn’t be easy for Sangwoo to actually achieve his goals, of course. But…Jaeyoung found himself feeling like they could definitely do it in the end. A wave of pride and affection surged through him, followed by a desire to do a certain forbidden activity. “Hey.” “Yes?” “Exactly one minute from now, can I pat you on the head?” Sangwoo stayed silent for a long moment, but he didn’t shoot Jaeyoung down outright, which was definitely a new development. The clock ticked away without a response. “You don’t have to say yes if it bothers you too much,” Jaeyoung added. Sangwoo scratched his neck awkwardly. “No…it doesn’t bother me terribly. You just have to warn me in advance.” It was an incredibly generous response compared to where they’d started. Jaeyoung fought the urge to reach out toward the weirdo’s black hat, asking instead, “You need a moment to prepare yourself?” “Yes, I do. I don’t like it when something unexpected happens.” “Well, what would you do if your grandma called you in the middle of class and said she was at your apartment because she missed you so much?” “I don’t check my phone when I’m in class, and both my grandmothers are deceased.” “Oh… My bad. Let me think of a different example, then.” Jaeyoung thought for a moment. “What would you do if you were making instant ramen, but the package didn’t come with a soup packet?” “I would never end up in that situation in the first place. I always make sure I have all the ingredients in a recipe before I start cooking.” “Now that I think of it, you are pretty good at making instant ramen…” “How could anybody be bad at making instant ramen? It only requires two functional hands and enough intelligence to comprehend the instructions.” “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But tons of people manage to screw it— Oh, it’s time.” Without hesitation, Jaeyoung reached out and gave Sangwoo several pats on the head. Satisfaction washed over him now that he’d achieved his goal, and it tasted extra sweet knowing he’d taken the correct path to get there. Part of him wanted to sling his arm across the weirdo’s shoulder, too, but he didn’t want to push his luck. “I’ll do my best to help you reach your goal,” Jaeyoung whispered, his voice much more hoarse than he’d intended. It seemed his emotions were getting to him a little bit. “I’m a lot more invested now.” Sangwoo blinked at him. Then, exactly two seconds later, he shook off Jaeyoung’s hand. With a sudden, curt, “That’s enough,” he closed his laptop and began to pack up his things. For the past three minutes, Jaeyoung had only been allowed to see the weirdo’s side profile. Resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t get to see Sangwoo from any other angle, he glanced at the clock. It was only nine thirty. He stayed for thirty more minutes yesterday… After packing his backpack, Sangwoo sprang to his feet and walked over to the door without acknowledging Jaeyoung. It was like he wasn’t even in the room. But then the weirdo paused for a moment, staring straight at the door. “I’m off. I’ll see you at the next meeting.” Why can’t he just say “I’ll see you tomorrow” like a normal person? “Sure. See you,” Jaeyoung muttered at the back of his head. A moment later, the door loudly clicked shut. Running a hand down his face, Jaeyoung turned his eyes to the ceiling. Thoughts swirled through his mind—maybe he should have held back, especially knowing how much Sangwoo despised physical contact. But there’d been something strange about Sangwoo’s reaction. It hadn’t exactly signaled discomfort or irritation… “I need a smoke.” Something was off about the whole situation, but Jaeyoung couldn’t figure out what. Unease filled his mind like a thick fog. He would need to observe Sangwoo’s behavior very closely. A collection of incidents from the Sangwoo Choo Observation Journal: (1) April 9th, Tuesday – Five days since Sangwoo entered the studio Checked into the studio: 6:31 PM Checked out of the studio: 10:00 PM *Excerpt of key scene: “Yuna vs. Sangwoo” “Yo, Sangchoo Choo!” “Please refer to me by my actual name.” “You always complain about my music, but you don’t say anything when Jaeyoung listens to his. Why is that, huh?” Yuna launched a powerful attack, but Sangwoo retaliated swiftly! “On average, Jaeyoung only plays music for about nine minutes, and that is during his break. I choose not to say anything because quality rest is valuable. On the other hand, you keep your music on twenty-four seven. I recommend that you go home in silence, at the very least. I pity your headphones.” Yuna had no comeback! Sangwoo: Destroyed opponent with defensive maneuvers Yuna: KO *Notable observations of subject: Spoke in Jaeyoung’s defense, used his name when referring to him *Conclusion: No abnormalities (2) April 10th, Wednesday – Six days since Sangwoo entered the studio Checked into the studio: 6:31 PM Checked out of the studio: 10:00 PM *Excerpt of key scene: “Sangwoo’s Angriest Moments” “You need to relax, all right?” Jaeyoung said with a sigh. “If you keep beating me to the ground with work, I might be tempted to toss my PC out the window.” “You should seek treatment for your anger management issues.” If there was one thing that Sangwoo absolutely sucked at, it was identifying a joke. “Tell me your top three angriest moments,” Jaeyoung said, knowing his break was coming to an end, but also knowing full well that Sangwoo always answered his questions. Just as he’d thought, the weirdo glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Hmm…” After a moment, he answered, “First place: When you asked me to watch a movie with you.” “Huh? That’s the angriest you’ve ever been? Seriously?” Has this jerk’s life just been exceptionally chill, or did I really shock him that bad? “Yes. As for second place… It was when I was in the bathroom during the first lecture for Embedded Systems, washing off the mustache you drew on my face.” Sounds like I’ve been given the honor of first and second place. But knowing he only had himself to blame, Jaeyoung stayed silent. “My third angriest moment was in sixth grade, during the pi memorization contest.” “Why? ’Cause you didn’t get first place?” “What? Of course I got first place.” “Why were you mad, then?” “I hated myself for only being able to memorize six hundred and twenty-two digits. I put in more effort and memorized one thousand and twenty-four digits later on, but I stopped after that since it felt like a waste of time.” “You’re really something else, aren’t you…?” *Notable observations of subject: Confirmed—once again—that Jaeyoung had made a terrible impression on subject *Conclusion: No abnormalities (3) April 11th, Thursday – Seven days since Sangwoo entered the studio Checked into the studio: 6:31 PM Checked out of the studio: 8:25 PM *Excerpt of key scene: “Platinum and Diamond” The designs for the characters, items, and effects were already done, as were the level maps and the UI. There were still countless things left to work on, but Jaeyoung was itching to take a break now that he’d reached a major checkpoint. “Let’s go and do some market research.” he declared, not wanting Sangwoo to think he’d take a no for an answer. “Please elaborate.” “I think we should experience what it’s like to play successful, established games from other companies firsthand. Then we can analyze their strengths and weaknesses and discuss them. Not only can we gain artistic inspiration and reflect on how they became so successful, we can also strengthen our bond as a team and blow off some steam.” Sangwoo didn’t respond for a long time—it was like Jaeyoung had spoken to him in a foreign language. Finally, he said, “In other words, you want to play a game?” He was catching on faster and faster. “Just for two hours. I swear I’ll finish everything I have piled up tomorrow.” “Will you actually?” “Of course! C’mon, don’t be so skeptical.” Somehow, Jaeyoung’s persistence paid off, and he managed to convince Sangwoo that “market research” really was necessary. Of course, he had ulterior motives. His skills were far above average in most games, so he was used to carrying whoever he played with. It meant practically all his friends wanted to be on his team, which might have inflated his ego a little bit. Maybe more than a little. Jaeyoung’s grand plan was to show off and gain the weirdo’s respect through his gaming skills, since his attempt to do that with skateboarding had already failed. Ultimately, the two of them decided to go to the same internet café where Sangwoo worked. The owner greeted them warmly and gave them free drinks—apparently, it was the first time Sangwoo had ever visited the place as a customer. “What do you wanna play?” Jaeyoung cheerfully asked. “You can choose. I’m adept at most multiplayer games.” “Let’s see, what’s popular nowadays… Wargrounds? Underwatch? League of Champions? What are you most confident in?” “I’m decent at Wargrounds and Underwatch. I’m not very good at LoC, though. It’s been some time since I played.” “Let’s start with that, then.” Jaeyoung had meant it as a joke, but Sangwoo seemed take his suggestion seriously. He agreed and opened the game. Jaeyoung picked an assassin who utilized flashy, effective combo attacks and dealt significant damage. The character Sangwoo picked was an ugly utility tanker. As they waited for the game to start, Sangwoo went on the game’s wiki and carefully looked over the skills and item builds of the newly released characters. Jaeyoung, who had been filling the time by scrolling through some comic on his phone, gaped in shock the moment his game began to load. What the hell?! He’s got a diamond border! I thought he wasn’t very good at League! Basically, the weirdo was an elite player who’d ranked in the top 1 or 2 percent in the previous season. Jaeyoung’s own rank—which he loved to brag to his friends about—was platinum, which was two rungs lower. Jaeyoung started to feel slightly nervous. And unfortunately, the weirdo immediately proved he’d been right to be. Jaeyoung based his gaming strategy around following his instincts and leaning into the strengths of his chosen character, but Sangwoo was another beast entirely. He carefully paved his way to victory by calculating the enemy’s movements and taking advantage of their cooldown times. “Can’t you calculate skill damage?” “Are you not taking your opponent’s cooldown time into account?” “You knew I was about to gank. You should have engaged the enemy and pinned them to the spot.” “What’s up with your CS? We’re already nearing the midpoint of the game.” “If you’re not fully confident you can get a kill, just try to stay back.” The weirdo spent the entirety of the next two hours calmly tearing Jaeyoung to shreds. Strangely enough, the older man’s best plays started to look like rash decisions, and his instinctive choices looked more like clumsy mistakes. Jaeyoung had initially asked Sangwoo to go to the internet café for a breath of fresh air, but their dynamic ended up being exactly the same as when they were working in the studio. He made a mental note—In the future, don’t challenge Sangwoo to a game of Wargrounds, Underwatch, or Starkraft. What the hell am I supposed to play with him, then? Marzio Kart? *Notable observations of subject: Is a gaming prodigy *Conclusion: No abnormalities (4) April 12th, Friday – Eight days since Sangwoo entered the studio Checked into the studio: 6:31 PM Checked out of the studio: 10:02 PM *Excerpt of key scene: “X’s and O’s” At around nine thirty at night, Jaeyoung was completely exhausted after finishing the stats tab, inventory, and skills pages. He collapsed on the cot, muttering that he needed a fifteen-minute break, but ended up dozing off. “I’m going home,” The sound of Sangwoo’s voice immediately woke Jaeyoung up, but the drowsy older man didn’t move a muscle. He felt so languid that even managing a word of goodbye was too much effort. A moment later, he heard the rustling of Sangwoo packing up his things over at the desk. “Get up. You said you would finish the designs for the gacha and title screens by the end of the day.” The weirdo’s robotic yet pleasant voice registered distantly in Jaeyoung’s brain, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. “Are you asleep?” Jaeyoung still didn’t respond. “Hey, are you asleep?” It was the exact same question, but Sangwoo’s voice was slightly closer. “Are you…really asleep?” Now it sounded like Sangwoo was standing right next to the dozing man. Wondering if the weirdo was planning on drawing a moustache on his face or something, Jaeyoung committed to fooling Sangwoo into thinking he wasn’t awake. Then, when Sangwoo started doing whatever he’d cooked up in his head, Jaeyoung would spring up and scare the shit out of— “You’re actually asleep, right, Jaeyoung?” That’s the same way he said my name last time… The mischievousness drained out of Jaeyoung. It was like he was in a game and had just gotten struck with a whole pile of status effects all at once—he was rendered mute, paralyzed, stunned, frozen, petrified, and confused. The world moved in slow-mo. Even with his eyes closed, Jaeyoung could sense Sangwoo crouching down to examine his face up close. “You really are asleep, right…?” Sangwoo was now so close that Jaeyoung could feel a warm breath tickling his eyelids. Then, fingertips brushed against his forehead as Sangwoo…began toying with his hair? Jaeyoung’s breath quickened in bewilderment, but he kept his eyes shut, calling on all his acting skills to keep his cool. Each passing second felt like an hour. Jaeyoung’s face was so tense that his cheek muscles were starting to twitch. Finally, he decided to turn over in his “sleep.” That was when it happened. Something soft pressed against Jaeyoung’s lips. It took every ounce of self-restraint he had to keep his eyes closed and maintain his composure. The pressure disappeared as quickly as it’d come. By the time Jaeyoung opened his eyes, Sangwoo was already walking out of the room. *Notable observations of subject: aslfhnasljfhoqkwuhfoq WTF??? *Conclusion: SIGNIFICANT ABNORMALITY DETECTED “Anything in particular you’re craving?” “No.” “I’ll take the okonomiyaki, the fish cake set, and two bottles of soju.” Jaeyoung closed the menu and handed it to the waitress, who took their order and left behind the folding screen. It was Saturday night, and Jaeyoung had snatched up Sangwoo once he’d gotten off work. Now, they were sitting in the corner of a quiet izakaya where they could talk in private. Jaeyoung had been distracted all day because of the incident from the night before. Unless he’d been dreaming, Sangwoo had snuck a kiss and run away, but why he’d done it was still a total mystery. For one, Sangwoo was the most rigid, antiquated person to ever exist. Jaeyoung would’ve found it far less shocking if he’d turned out to be asexual than gay. Not to mention, the weirdo’s gaze was completely apathetic when it met Jaeyoung’s across the table. There was not a trace of love or affection in his eyes. It was starting to feel much more plausible that Jaeyoung had been so tired he’d hallucinated the whole thing. “Why did you bring me here?” Sangwoo asked flatly. “I figured we should go out for drinks, since we’ve already been working together for two weeks.” “I suppose…that’s all right, then.” A long, suffocating silence followed. In stark contrast to how he’d used to feel, Jaeyoung was no longer confident in his ability to maintain his composure around Sangwoo. Whether it had been done intentionally or not, the weirdo had hit him where it hurt one too many times over the past two weeks. The walls he’d once used to shield himself had crumbled to nothing, and the moat he’d dug around them was filled with dirt. That’s why he’d essentially forced Sangwoo to sit down at this pub with him—he knew he had to follow the uneasy feeling in his chest wherever it was leading him. Downtempo electronica—one of Jaeyoung’s favorite music genres—poured from the restaurant’s speakers, filling the room with a gentle ambiance. Across the table from him, Sangwoo had his head craned back, looking up at the ceiling. Jaeyoung’s eyes fell on Sangwoo’s neck again for one second, two, and then he forced himself to look away. A few minutes later, their waitress reappeared with their alcohol and some simple side dishes. A part of Jaeyoung had assumed the weirdo had probably never sat down with anybody for drinks before, but Sangwoo surprised him by reaching out and shaking the soju bottle with practiced ease before opening it. Feeling his nerves vibrating like violin strings, Jaeyoung allowed Sangwoo to pour him a drink first. His form was impeccable, and he followed the etiquette to a tee—he poured with his right hand, his left hand supporting the opposite wrist. Most people didn’t really care about the trivial, made-up rule that you should cover the label of a bottle with one palm while pouring, but the weirdo perfectly managed that as well. “Who did you learn that from?” “My mother. She taught it to me as soon as I came of age, saying it would be important in the future.” It was Jaeyoung’s turn to pour now. Sangwoo held out his glass, still supporting his wrist with his opposite hand in a show of deference. Part of Jaeyoung thought it was slightly ridiculous that the weirdo was being so formal when the two of them were just college students, but he didn’t say anything—he knew how important it was to Sangwoo to follow the rules, no matter what situation he found himself in. So he just poured the clear liquid into Sangwoo’s glass, filling it almost to the brim. They clinked their glasses together, then downed their shots at the same time. After nibbling on a few pieces of edamame, Jaeyoung turned his gaze back to Sangwoo, who remained totally nonchalant. Unable to think of anything to say, he filled their glasses again. They drank. “You can handle your liquor pretty well.” “Yes. My aldehyde dehydrogenase enzymes tend to be very active.” “I thought you avoided the stuff like the plague.” “Why?” “Remember your freshman welcome party? You refused to take a single sip.” Sangwoo blinked in confusion as he refilled Jaeyoung’s glass. Returning the favor, Jaeyoung continued, “I was there, too.” “Oh. I remember something very irritating happening… You saw everything?” “Obviously. I’m the one who threw your phone.” “The corner of my phone cracked that day. I was planning on reporting the asshole who did it for property damage, but I gave up because I couldn’t identify him.” Jaeyoung chuckled softly and ate a few more pieces of edamame. “Y’know, you only managed to escape because I stopped the computer science rep.” “What is it that you want me to say? ‘Thank you’?” This jerk never changes, huh? Jaeyoung mused. Wonder if he’ll stay like this forever. From the very beginning, Sangwoo’s words had never failed to piss him off. But things were different now. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Like, some kind of computer science genius…? Although, I guess your specialty is reading machines, not people…” It was the same insult he’d hurled at Sangwoo before. The weirdo’s eyes curved into twin crescents as a smile spread across his face. He’s so fricking cute. Closing his eyes, Jaeyoung knocked back another glass of soju. “You know, I’ve run into you a few times in the past,” he said. “When?” “For one, we were in the same class a few years ago.” “Really?” “Yeah, for real! You tried to steal my money in front of the convenience store once…and you made me look like an idiot when I tried to interview you during the festival.” There was no recognition in Sangwoo’s face. He downed a glass of soju as the waitress brought over a large pot filled with stew and fish cake skewers, accompanied by okonomiyaki heaped with dried bonito flakes. “The point is, I’ve known you for a long time, though it took you forever to recognize me and remember my name.” “It did?” “You called me Youngjae Kim the first time you came to the restaurant, remember? Man, that was unbelievable…” Grumbling, Jaeyoung picked up a skewer and bit into one of the fish cakes. Sangwoo sat frozen for a moment, then grabbed a skewer for himself. A few minutes passed as they ate the food and drank the two bottles of soju in silence. They ordered some more when they were done. Finally, the weirdo said, “I had a senior in the military named Youngjae Kim, and he was just as annoying as you. That must be why I made the mistake.” The words felt like a fist to Jaeyoung’s gut, but they gave him an opportunity to move on to a topic he’d been curious about. “Where’d you serve?” “Goyang-si. I was in the artillery unit.” “Oh, the Cheonma Artillery Brigade? I heard they’re extremely tough on you.” “It was fine.” Jaeyoung was slightly surprised to hear Sangwoo discussing his military years so casually—for some reason, he’d assumed the weirdo had been placed under special observation or something after being unable to fit into his cohort. “How’d you like the military, anyway? Was this Youngjae Kim the only one who bullied you?” “Yes. He was transferred to another unit while I was serving as a private. From that point on, nobody else bothered me.” “Why’d he get transferred?” “I didn’t say anything when he kept dumping chores on me and waking me up at night, but then he started smacking me on the head on a regular basis. I put a note into the complaints box and talked to the company commander, but nothing happened. So I reported him to the military police.” Whoa… Did he really? Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jaeyoung asked, “Did you get along well with the others?” “When I had to. It’s not like a military base is a place for socializing. I only talked to them when it was necessary.” “Gotcha. Did you get sick of it or anything?” “Not at all. I got to study a good deal in my free time. I was recognized for being a perfect shot and possessing excellent combat ability. I also became a model special forces soldier, which I got an award for. My father said I was born to be in the military.” Damn, Sangwoo… It made sense that Sangwoo had been so good at enduring physical suffering and the monotony of the military. Jaeyoung, on the contrary, had hated every second he spent there. Waking up at ass o’clock, wiping down the damn guns every single day, not being able to do anything interesting with your hair or outfits, being confined to the barracks, the disgusting food, the endless combat practice, the long marches, the duty stations… All those things had made Jaeyoung endlessly miserable—and that wasn’t even getting into the mental stuff. Military culture had made him sick, but he’d been forced to yell at the younger soldiers and try to discipline them because of his MOS. “I was the drill instructor,” Jaeyoung said. “Hmm… Interesting. I’m surprised you were qualified to train anybody else.” “Yeah, agreed. They arbitrarily picked me because I’m tall.” “I’m sure the new soldiers didn’t take you seriously.” Jaeyoung scoffed. “As if! They called me Sergeant Deathstalker. You know, like the scorpion?” “You’re lying,” Sangwoo responded impassively. “I swear, you’re the only one who thinks I’m some kind of loser.” For a moment, Sangwoo stayed silent. Then he said, “You’re not that much of a loser.” They both fell into silence again as they downed glass after glass of soju. In the blink of an eye, they’d finished four bottles. Feeling tipsy, Jaeyoung blinked slowly as he watched Sangwoo pick up his glass, turn his head to the side, then whip back and empty the whole thing. If Jaeyoung didn’t know any better, he would’ve said the weirdo was drinking water, not alcohol. He has no right to be so damn sexy, Jaeyoung thought, then immediately tried to remind himself that Sangwoo was a man. He scrubbed his eyes with his fists, but nothing changed—there was still a slight blush on Sangwoo’s cheeks, and a cherry-red gleam to his lips. Hungrily latching onto every single detail, Jaeyoung’s eyes traveled down Sangwoo’s long neck and lingered on his plaid shirt for a moment. But when the weirdo opened a fresh bottle of soju, his gaze quickly danced over to take in the newly defined muscles along his forearms. Bless rolled-up sleeves, Jaeyoung thought reverently as Sangwoo twisted the cap off, veins slightly prominent beneath his pale skin. At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a nosebleed… Exhaling sharply, Jaeyoung brushed a hand over his face—his skin radiated heat under his fingers. And much as he didn’t like to admit it, that couldn’t entirely be blamed on the alcohol. “Recommended games… ‘Open Up Your Heart,’” Sangwoo muttered. Jaeyoung snapped his head up to see that the weirdo was pointing at the wall behind him. Raising an eyebrow, he turned around to look as well. There was a large poster on the wall, listing “The Best Drinking Games to Spice Up Your Night.” A short description accompanied each of the games—”Kings,” “Never Have I Ever,” “First Impressions,” and “Open Up Your Heart,” which was a game where underclassmen and upperclassmen would switch places in the social hierarchy. Slowly, Jaeyoung turned back around to face Sangwoo, whose eyes were gleaming with uncharacteristic interest. “You wanna play?” Jaeyoung asked. The answer came immediately. “Yes.” “Geez… Sounds like someone’s holding a grudge or two.” Sangwoo just stared at him intently. Fortunately, Jaeyoung wasn’t the type to get offended if an underclassman spoke to him rudely or way too casually for a few minutes. “Go for it, then,” he said. Immediately, Sangwoo began the game. “Hey, Jaeyoung Jang.” Maybe Jaeyoung was imagining it, but he could see a determined glint in Sangwoo’s eyes. His heart began to pound. Hamming it up, he scooted closer to the table and respectfully clasped his hands together. “Yes, sir! What can I do for you?” There was a short pause, wherein Sangwoo cleared his throat a few times. He looked away briefly before redirecting his gaze to Jaeyoung. “You need to start taking my criticism more seriously, understand?” “Whatever do you mean, sir? I’m already taking it seriously!” “Why do you keep repeating the same mistakes, then?” “I’ll be more careful in the future.” “Is your underscore key broken or what? I know you’re good at English, so you have no reason to be making so many typos. It’s not that hard. Try to be more mindful, all right?” Leave it to this asshole to bring up work while we’re out grabbing drinks… Jaeyoung picked up a fish cake skewer and shoved it in Sangwoo’s mouth. “Here, allow me.” Sangwoo diligently chewed on the fish cake and swallowed. Then he continued, “Also, we’re falling behind schedule because you’re missing deadlines. Don’t pretend it’s not an issue.” “Please understand, I’m trying my best. I promise I’ll get everything done.” “That’s an empty promise.” “Not at all! I was grinding away earlier today, actually.” That was a bold-faced lie. He’d achieved absolutely nothing because he’d been too busy thinking about Sangwoo the entire day. But he was confident that, despite procrastinating, he’d be able to cobble something decent together at the last minute. Jaeyoung smirked playfully. “My, my, sir. It looks like you picked this game because you wanted to give me a scolding.” A frown started to form on Sangwoo’s face, but Jaeyoung disrupted it by scooping up some okonomiyaki and force-feeding it to him. Unlike before, Sangwoo was starting to look a bit tipsy, too—his eyes were slightly unfocused, and his robotic demeanor was nowhere to be found. He didn’t even bother to fight back when Jaeyoung pushed the bite of food into his mouth. After a moment, Sangwoo muttered, “I just wanted to hear you talk to me politely… You dumb brat.” “I see… Have another drink.” Jaeyoung grabbed Sangwoo’s glass and held it up to the weirdo’s lips, and he promptly drank from it like a baby bird. After swallowing, he pointed at Jaeyoung accusingly. “You. Jaeyoung Jang.” “Yes?” “You know…that you’re completely out of your mind, right…?” “Oh, of course I do.” Scoffing, Sangwoo crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “You’re suuuuch an asshole. I still remember how you doodled on my face…” “Right, right. I don’t know how I’ll ever atone for my sins.” “Then you bought all my coffee… That’s called stockpiling. It’s not…allowed.” “Of course it’s not. You should’ve reported me to the Consumer Union, really. I mean, I’m a terrible, terrible person.” “You’re…garbage. Sewer garbage…” “Oh no, I’m radioactive waste. But I can kneel at your feet and beg for forgiveness, if you want.” Abruptly, Sangwoo leaned forward across the table. It almost felt like some unseen force had reached out and tugged him in Jaeyoung’s direction. But then he placed his arms on the table and crossed them, resting his chin on top. One of his elbows shoved the okonomiyaki to the side, and Jaeyoung barely managed to grab it before it fell to the floor. At that point, Jaeyoung was sitting pretty damn close to the table, too. Somehow, they had ended up so close together that the rim of Sangwoo’s hat had almost brushed Jaeyoung’s forehead. Jaeyoung lowered himself to the table just like Sangwoo, until he could finally see his eyes. His heart began to race even faster. He watched, mesmerized, as Sangwoo’s dense eyelashes fluttered as he blinked. As his lips moved to form a mumbled string of words. “You’re lucky that you’re so…decent-looking, you know.” “That’s true. Nobody would want anything to do with me if I didn’t at least look decent.” “At least you’re self-aware.” It was clear that Sangwoo was feeling the alcohol; the weirdo’s eyes were slightly unfocused as he studied Jaeyoung’s face. There was a strange intensity to that gaze—it left heat lingering on Jaeyoung’s skin wherever it touched, though perhaps that was his imagination. Sangwoo’s focus lingered on Jaeyoung’s forehead, then moved to his nose, neck, chin, and finally his lips. Sangwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he seemed to mouth something to himself. At last, Jaeyoung broke the silence between them. “Is there something on my face?” Sangwoo’s eyes turned into such thin slits that a bystander might’ve thought he was falling asleep, but then he turned his gaze to the side and poured Jaeyoung another glass of soju. Jaeyoung downed the alcohol right away, then asked yet another question. “Do you think I’m hot?” It was like Sangwoo hadn’t heard him. The weirdo just refilled his glass yet again instead of responding. Jaeyoung emptied it in one gulp. “Do you…think I’m…hot, Sangwoo?” he repeated slowly, staring directly into Sangwoo’s dark eyes. Their usual sharpness was nowhere to be found. What are you thinking? If my guess is correct…you probably want me. After a moment, the younger man answered in a small voice, “Yes.” Jaeyoung blinked slowly, momentarily struck speechless. The butterflies in his stomach were starting to spread throughout his entire body, swarming around his heart. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he found his mind dominated by a single thought. Acting on it might jeopardize their entire relationship, but he found he didn’t care about that anymore. Placing both his hands on the table, Jaeyoung sprang to his feet, stumbling slightly before managing to regain his balance. He found himself getting irritated at the piece of furniture taking up the space between them—he pushed it roughly aside and took a step toward Sangwoo, who craned his head back to look at him. Thanks to this, Jaeyoung got a good view of the other man’s entire face. “Hey, Sangwoo.” “Yes?” “Can I take it off you?” His face turning crimson, Sangwoo fell silent. But that flush wasn’t from tipsiness this time—Jaeyoung could just feel it. “I was talking about your hat, dummy. Unless…you thought I was referring to something else.” Without bothering to ask for permission, Jaeyoung reached out and lifted the black cap off the weirdo’s head. A strange sense of satisfaction surged in him as Sangwoo froze, visibly flustered. There was nothing special about the guy, really—he wasn’t like one of those fictional characters who turned into complete hunks whenever they took off their glasses. He was just a regular guy with hat hair. That is, if one was being logical. Alas, Jaeyoung had long turned off that part of his brain. In that moment, all he could think about was how striking the sharp contrast was between Sangwoo’s dark eyes and pale skin. How he looked curiously put together and yet disheveled at the same time, his usual mask of calmness discarded entirely. Sure, maybe it was a mirage conjured by a combination of alcohol and his own emotions, but the weirdo loomed before Jaeyoung’s eyes like some sort of temptress. R-rated fantasies flooded into his mind one after another, unstoppable. “Not gonna yell at me this time?” Jaeyoung asked, his voice coming out huskier than usual. There was something about Sangwoo that stripped him of all self-control—whether that was over his voice, face, or his stupid dick. “Give it back,” Sangwoo said, sending him an indignant glare as he fidgeted awkwardly with his bangs. Jaeyoung’s heart skipped a beat. Not a chance. “I said, give it back.” “Sorry, I don’t wanna.” “Give it back now!” “Ooh, is someone mad?” “Enough is enough!” Sangwoo sprang to his feet angrily. His height was average—not too tall or too short—and Jaeyoung loved it. He liked how the weirdo had to tip his head back to meet his eyes, and it was oddly satisfying to look down at his angry face. Jaeyoung’s breath hitched with excitement. He waited patiently until Sangwoo reached for his hat, then grabbed his wrist tightly and tugged hard, bringing the weirdo’s disoriented face only inches from his. Their eyes made contact for a brief, intense moment. Then Sangwoo directed his glare at the floor instead. “Shit…” The word sounded foreign coming from Sangwoo. His voice was rough and low, just like Jaeyoung’s. “Sorry, what was that?” “I wasn’t talking to you, Jaeyoung,” Sangwoo said, then glowered at him with renewed determination. But Jaeyoung just stood frozen in place, his breath coming out in heated huffs. His hands itched to grab, touch, or simply brush against Sangwoo. At this point, he would take anything. “Hey, Sangwoo.” “Yes?” In a painstakingly slow movement, Jaeyoung raised his right hand and gently placed it on Sangwoo’s cheek. Faint tremors radiated under his thumb as he stroked it across the flushed cheek. “I’m giving you fair warning—stop calling my name like that.” “Okay…” “I can’t promise what I’ll do if you—” “…Jaeyoung.” Jaeyoung’s hand tensed, but Sangwoo just stared unwaveringly into his eyes. “You’re so damn hot, Jaeyoung.” Jaeyoung felt something plummet—probably his heart. Biting his lip, he slowly slid his hand down to Sangwoo’s neck, feeling like he was invading forbidden territory. The skin he found there was hot, almost feverish. Curling his fingers behind Sangwoo’s nape, he pulled him in slightly until their foreheads were nearly touching. Sangwoo’s flushed face was right there. His dark eyes didn’t leave Jaeyoung’s for a second. They were so, so close…but though the string tethering Jaeyoung’s rationality was starting to fray, he still managed to remember what the rules were. “Advance notice: I’m going to kiss you in exactly one minute.” His words were almost businesslike, betraying the emotions burning in his throat. “So, if you’re gonna run…this is your last chance.” Jaeyoung’s breath turned ragged as a low, desperate hum resounded between his ears. His skin was on fire, but he couldn’t tell if the heat came from Sangwoo or himself. In his head, he pictured his body engulfed in a raging inferno. Sangwoo’s eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, briefly shadowing his eyes and breaking their unwavering eye contact. But then, as Jaeyoung stared on dazedly, Sangwoo reached out with his free hand to grab the fabric of Jaeyoung’s shirt and pull him closer. There are forty-eight seconds left, Jaeyoung thought absently as he watched Sangwoo’s eyes slip shut. But then the weirdo’s lips pressed against his, as they had the previous day. Something finally snapped inside Jaeyoung, and he roughly pulled Sangwoo even closer, tilting his head to get a better angle. He jolted slightly when Sangwoo’s tongue suddenly slipped between his lips, but he recovered instantly and returned the favor. The world faded away after that. The only sensations he was aware of were those of their lips melting together, their tongues tangling, and their breath becoming one. The heat growing inside Jaeyoung was primal and wild. His overwhelming thirst grew faster than it could be sated, turning into a throbbing pain. He was burning up, and he welcomed it. Their kiss was far from romantic, having gone from zero to a hundred with no in-between, and they jerked back from each other with the same urgency with which they’d collided. As Sangwoo wiped his lips with his sleeve, panting frantically, Jaeyoung leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. Shit… He practically ate me alive. His heart raced a million miles an hour, threatening to burst.