Chapter 10

The hum of the office was quieter than usual, but Gyu In’s senses remained sharp, attuned to every whispered word floating through the corridors. Rumors, as inevitable as the ticking clock, began to swirl - nothing official, just hints and half-formed sentences about a former actor linked to a CEO. Words like “druggie” and “scandal” flickered past like shadows, but Gyu In refused to let them settle.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the polished desk. His gaze stayed fixed on the cityscape beyond the window, but inside, the weight of gossip pressed quietly against his thoughts.

How does a druggie climb up to Sir Kim Gyu In? So shameless. The words echoed in his mind. He trusted Eun Wol, he reminded himself firmly, not because the world offered second chances, but because what Eun Wol showed him here and now was all that mattered. The rest was noise.

The tightness in his head refused to loosen, pressing at the right side like a relentless woodpecker, sharp and insistent. A tingling ache bit at his throat, bitter and unwelcome. He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to anchor in the present.

“Sir Kim,” Hae Won’s soft voice came from outside the office. “I noticed you haven’t eaten lunch yet. Should I order something for you?”

“No.” Gyu In squeezed his eyes shut as if he could block out the world. “Just make me a cup of tea.”

Footsteps faded, and shortly after, a soft knock tapped at the door.

“Sir Kim?” Hae Won’s concern slipped through the calm. “I can postpone your remaining meetings.”

“No need.” Gyu In exhaled, the sound harsh and uneven. “Just give me a moment and the tea. It’s just a migraine.”

Hae Won sighed, noting silently to push the afternoon branch meeting by an hour. “Alright, sir. Take a break. Your next meeting isn’t for another two hours. All the documents are arranged.”

Gyu In relaxed his shoulders slightly, eyes still closed. “I know I can always trust you.”

Hae Won lowered his gaze, shadowed by the sweep of his hair. “Of course, Sir Kim.”

Time stretched and crawled as Gyu In forced himself through meeting after meeting. Smiles pasted on. Words rehearsed, hollow. Each page of paperwork pressed against him, a reminder that the day was far from over.

Finally, he closed the last file with a soft thud and let out a long sigh. Home. The thought was a small beacon - warm water, a quiet cup of tea, maybe even a tart to calm the frayed edges of his nerves.

He sank into his car seat, pressing a hand to his forehead, trying to shove away the lingering tension. But the silence was deceptive. His mind refused to settle. It tugged at him relentlessly, pulling him back to Eun Wol, to the subtle tightness in his chest whenever that name surfaced.

The city’s hum outside dimmed, drowned by the insistent, unignorable urge not to go home. Not yet. He turned the key in the ignition and let the car roll toward the bar, where Eun Wol waited, unaware of how deeply Gyu In’s heart was already entangled with his.

*

Later that evening, the bar was dim and familiar - the kind of place Eun Wol usually felt safe in. But tonight, even here, the air carried a sharp, unfamiliar edge.

New faces drifted in, eyes sharp and calculating. Eun Wol recognized them immediately, just as they recognized him. They had come intentionally. Their gazes swept the room until they landed squarely on him.

Eun Wol’s shoulders tightened, eyes flickering with unease. His hands curled slightly at his sides, gripping the bar towel a little too tightly. Still, he refused to step down. This was his sanctuary. A place that had accepted him when everyone else had turned away. He wouldn’t let these people ruin it. Not for him, not because of him.

He tightened his jaw and turned back to the glasses, hands moving on autopilot - arranging shot glasses, polishing the rim of a coupe, grounding himself in something tangible. He reminded himself repeatedly: as long as they didn’t cause trouble, he wouldn’t intervene.

But the bar felt smaller now. Shadows stretched longer. Every whispered laugh or clink of glass sounded sharper, louder, closer than it was. The tension pressed against him, and his pulse thumped harder with each passing second.

“Hey.”

Eun Wol glanced sideways. A man leaned too close over the bar, smirking, his eyes bold, intruding.

“I said I’m calling you!”

Eun Wol exhaled slowly, letting the tension seep into his bones. If they wanted to disrupt his calm, he wouldn’t let it happen behind the bar. Not where the staff could get caught in the crossfire. Not in his space.

He stepped out. One hand still wiping condensation from the glass he held, Eun Wol rounded the bar with quiet, deliberate calm, forcing himself to meet the challenge head-on.

“Well, well,” one of the men sneered, stepping closer. “Thought you could ignore us just because you have Kim Gyu In behind you?”

Eun Wol barely blinked. “Unless you’re ordering a drink, I don’t owe you a single word.”

Then a hand shot out, gripping his arm.

“You think you’re still somebody just because you’re sleeping with a CEO?”

Another roughly spun him by the shoulder. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

Eun Wol’s balance faltered. His chest tightened, heat flaring in his ears. His fingers itched to push them back, to defend his space, but he hesitated, caught between fear and pride. Rage bubbled, but before it could form into words.

A voice, smooth and cold, cut through the tension like a knife.

“I suggest you take your hand off him.”

The room seemed to freeze.

They turned.

And there he was.

Gyu In didn’t shout. He didn’t raise his voice. He stepped in as if the floor belonged to him, every movement effortless, controlled. The audacity before him seemed almost laughable.

Without hesitation, he draped a casual arm around the shoulders of the man still holding Eun Wol. Fingers light but firm, a subtle but undeniable claim.

“Watch your mouth,” Gyu In said, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “That’s my man you’re talking to.”

The air between them snapped. Silence fell, immediate and heavy, like glass shattering without a sound.

Eun Wol exhaled, barely aware of it. Relief coursed through him, mixed with the familiar warmth of being seen, protected, not just physically, but in the quiet, unspoken way Gyu In claimed him.

*

Silence hit like a dropped glass. One by one, the three shrank back, the smirks wiped clean. The man’s grip fell away. Gyu In didn’t spare them another word but only a look that said: Try again, and it’ll be your last mistake.

“I didn’t see you here, Mr. Kim—”

“Get lost,” Gyu In cut in coldly. “I just remembered that I signed a deal with your father two days ago. I wonder how he’d feel if I suddenly withdrew.”

Eyes widened. Panic twisted across their faces. They bowed low and scurried off hurriedly. When the door finally shut behind them, the noise of the bar resumed like nothing had happened.

Gyu In let out a slow breath. The pain in his temple throbbed still, sharp and stubborn. But seeing Eun Wol shaken like that? That made something twist in his chest.

“You alright?” he asked.

Eun Wol gave a small nod, eyes lowered. But his shoulders stayed drawn tight. He wasn’t sure how to make sense of the feeling bubbling in his chest. He should’ve been able to hold it in. Somehow, Gyu In’s presence loosened something. Made him feel safe. Made him feel like it was okay to breathe.

Gyu In stepped forward, the air around him shifting like the calm after a storm. This was their moment.

Eun Wol caught Gyu In’s gaze - steady, protective, fierce. Despite the tension threading through the room, he managed a small smile. Because sometimes, the smallest gestures held the loudest promises.

Gyu In reached out gently. His hand found Eun Wol’s wrist, sliding up until it curled around the back of his neck. Not rough. Not rushed. Just his. With one soft tug, he pulled him close. Their foreheads brushed.

“He’s mine,” Gyu In whispered again.

Softer this time. For no one else to hear. Like a promise.