Creator's Note: 

Chapter 8

The bar had long emptied, silence swallowing the room until only the stale tang of spilled liquor lingered in the air, clinging to the wood like an old bruise. The fridge gave off a low, tired hum.

Eun Wol dragged the rag across the counter again: slow, absent strokes, the fabric whispering against already spotless wood. It gleamed under the dim light, polished to perfection hours ago. Yet his hand wouldn’t stop moving. His muscles needed the motion, needed the distraction so his chest didn’t cave in under the weight of stillness.

His eyes kept sliding toward the door.

Nothing.

Just the faint creak of the old bar sign outside, swinging in the wind, its hinges whining like some weary ghost.

Again.

The sound returned, hollow, repeating until it pressed into his skull. He exhaled hard through his nose and pushed the rag harder against the counter as if he could scrub away the unease.

The past few nights had carried a pattern. Gyu In always showed up, sliding in like he owned the place, sometimes with iced tea that Eun Wol never asked for, sometimes with jokes so pitiful they barely scraped a smile, and sometime with that look.

That look that said nothing.
And yet somehow said everything.

But tonight…
And the night before…
Silence.

Eun Wol flung the rag aside and leaned into the counter, arms crossing over his chest. His mouth twisted into a small, humorless scoff that cut the air like a blade.

“Not like we signed a contract for late-night visits.”

His voice startled him, too sharp in the quiet, ricocheting against walls that weren’t supposed to answer.

He reached for his phone. His thumb flicked across the screen with muscle memory, as if he’d been waiting all along.

No new messages.

Not from Gyu In.

Of course not. Gyu In was always busy, buried in things bigger than this dusty little bar. His eyes hovered on the empty notification bar longer than they should have before he locked the phone and dropped it face-down beside the register.

He didn’t care except maybe he did. Just a little and that alone was infuriating.

The sudden buzz rattled against the counter, sharp and jarring.

His pulse jumped.

An unknown number. But only one person ever texted this phone.

[Unknown Number]
Received: Good evening. I am Choi Hae Won, Sir Kim Gyu In’s secretary. There is a company dinner this Friday. He’s asking if you can come.

Eun Wol blinked, his stomach giving a small, unpleasant twist.

So. He could text. Just not to him.

“Whatever,” he muttered, the word cracking more bitter than careless.

But his hand didn’t let go of the phone. His thumb hovered, the irritation plain in the way he tightened his grip, knuckles whitening.

Why is this coming from you instead of him?

Another buzz.

[Unknown Number]
Received: Sir Kim has been thoroughly busy today. The company dinner was arranged rather last minute. He said he can understand if you cannot make it this time round.

Eun Wol’s brows pinched together, a faint crease cutting between them. Contract meant work. No room for excuses, no room for choices. He would do it.

I can make it.

The reply came almost instantly, too smooth, too rehearsed.

[Unknown Number]
Received:  That’s great to know. I will pass the message to Sir Kim. The company dinner will be starting at 7pm. Do ensure that you are free from 2pm onward. I will contact you again.

Eun Wol’s lips parted in a short, incredulous breath. His eyes narrowed, lingering on the glowing screen as if the words themselves were mocking him.

“Free from 2?” he muttered under his breath, the sound dry and sharp. “5 hours before the dinner?!”

A low, humorless laugh slipped out, though it carried no amusement, only the grit of unease. His gaze hardened, voice falling to a whisper meant only for the empty bar.

“What the hell are they planning?”

*

Friday arrived faster than he expected, slipping past him in a blur of half-slept hours and restless thoughts.

Eun Wol still remembered last night, how he’d tried sneaking off after his shift, hoodie zipped, head ducked low but only to be caught red-handed by Soo Young with a glass in hand.

Eun Wol groaned now at the memory, dragging a palm down his face before reaching for his phone.

1:10 PM.

Forty minutes left.

The screen lit up with a new message.

[Unknown Number]
Received: Good afternoon. I hope everything is well. I’ll be arriving in 40 minutes at the park. Sir Kim mentioned that’s your drop-off place.

It didn’t even take a full minute to figure out who it was.

He still hadn’t saved the contact. He really should before his memory decided to betray him again.

By the time he was ready in his usual armor of hoodie and jeans, the sun had already claimed the sky, pouring heat down like molten glass. The blue above stretched cloudless and merciless, pressing into his skin until sweat gathered at his nape.

The phone buzzed again.

[Choi Hae Won]
Received: I am outside. Black car.

Eun Wol stared at the message. Blinked once.

That was it? No greeting. No name. Not even a damn emoji.

This man really was all business and no fluff, wasn’t he? Was this just how rich people talked?

He technically had ten minutes to spare. He wasn’t late but still he tugged his sleeves lower, shoved his hands into his pockets and jogged toward the park with his head down.

The car came into view: a sleek, polished thing that gleamed under the sunlight, the kind that probably had never seen dust in its life.

Not like Gyu In’s car.

If it were him, Gyu In would’ve been leaning against the hood already, sunglasses tipped low, iced tea in hand, grin too wide for his own good. He always looked like he had been waiting just for Eun Wol, like time bent to his leisure.

Instead, the back window rolled down halfway.

“Mr. Shim.”

A calm, neutral voice.

The door lock clicked open with the soft finality of a sealed deal.

Eun Wol slid into the backseat, immediately greeted by the scent of leather and something expensive, cologne so subtle it felt like it had been chosen by committee. His gaze shifted toward the man in the front passenger seat.

So, this was Choi Hae Won.

The first thing Eun Wol noticed wasn’t the suit or even the pin-straight posture. It was the hair. Not a strand out of place. Not the effortless, windblown kind either, but the calculated type. Hair that looked like it had never lost a battle with gravity, like he walked through life with a comb in one pocket and a mirror in the other.

Sharp jawline. Slim frame. Pale skin scrubbed clean of flaws. His face was unreadable, glasses catching just enough light to hide his eyes, expression carved into polite neutrality.

Nothing about him resembled Gyu In. Hae Won sat like a blade, straight-backed, edges sharp, bones forged of steel. He radiated clean lines, crisp orders, tight schedules.

The realization prickled. Gyu In had always made him feel seen, even when he didn’t want to be. Like he was more than a responsibility, more than a name on some list. With Hae Won, he felt like cargo being signed in and out. Valuable, yes. But replaceable.

For a heartbeat, he imagined Gyu In leaning against a car hood somewhere, iced tea in hand, grin teasing at the corner of his mouth. A small, familiar warmth crept in and he shook it off, focusing on the sterile leather and faint cologne.

His gaze shifted to the window. All that precision and perfection only made him miss the loose ties and ridiculous grins more.

Their eyes met briefly in the rearview mirror. Polite. Blank.

Eun Wol looked away first.

“I’m Choi Hae Won. Secretary to Sir Kim,” he said, dipping his head in a nod so precise it almost looked like a bow. As though Eun Wol was the one worth honoring.

But there was no warmth in it. No teasing lilt. No careless familiarity.

Eun Wol hesitated.

“I thought—” he began.

“Sir Kim has meetings lined back-to-back,” Hae Won said smoothly. “He asked me to escort you for preparations.”

“Preparations.”

“For the dinner.”

Eun Wol raised a brow. “What, am I meeting the president?”

“You’re meeting something worse,” Hae Won replied, eyes fixed on the tablet in front of him. “The board of directors. And probably quite a few representatives from other companies.”

…Oh.

Silence stretched thick between them, the hum of the car engine filling the void. Hae Won didn’t seem like the type to fill it with small talk.

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Gyu In - leaning casually against a hood somewhere, smirking, tossing off a joke just to see him smile. That kind of effortless presence that made him feel noticed even in chaos. Here, in contrast, the air pressed down cold, formal, with nothing personal to cling to.

“On the surface, it looks like a normal yearly company gathering—bonding over partnerships we’ve established,” Hae Won said, turning the wheel with precise motions as they navigated the city streets. “But it’s also a chance for the higher-ups to meet new faces, build relationships, and spark potential business deals.”

Eun Wol glanced out the window, nodding slowly, trying to absorb the words without letting the tension crawl up his spine.

“Honestly,” Hae Won continued, “Sir Kim hadn’t mentioned you until just now. The request came rather last-minute.”

“Oh? That so?” Eun Wol’s voice was low, tinged with skepticism.

Hae Won shot him a quick, measured glance. “It’s not uncommon for Sir Kim to keep things close to the chest. You’ll notice a lot of unspoken rules at these dinners.”

Eun Wol swallowed, tightening his grip on the edge of the seat. “Great.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of a sleek, glass-paneled building that could have been plucked from a magazine. Clean white interiors, polished marble floors, gold-lettered signage that radiated wealth.

He blinked at the name. A makeup studio?