CHAPTER 51
Several weeks passed without another confrontation.
Noeul was still at work, even though it was past eight.
It was his third consecutive day of overtime.
Instead of easing, the workload kept piling up, and he estimated he needed at least two more hours to finish.
He muttered a curse about his boss under his breath, made himself another coffee, and dove back into his work.
Chung-Hee was still in his office, reviewing the final details for the next morning’s meeting, his only company a cup of his favorite tea.
One more pass through the presentation and he would be done.
Then he noticed it. Part of the analysis the client had explicitly requested hadn’t been completed.
The meeting was scheduled for eight. There would be no time to fix it in the morning.
Annoyance flared. Chung-Hee checked whether anyone from the red team was still in the office. He was almost certain Noeul was there, though he hoped, briefly, that someone else had stayed too. No such luck.
The moment Noeul saw Chung-Hee’s expression, even before he spoke, he knew something was wrong.
“Noeul, there’s a section of the analysis for tomorrow’s meeting that hasn’t been completed. Everyone else has left, so I’m afraid the responsibility falls on you.”
Noeul stared at him. He had reached his limit. “Hyung, I’ve been here since eight this morning. It’s already nine. I can’t do this anymore. Please. I’m exhausted.”
“The meeting is at eight a.m.,” Chung-Hee replied coolly. “What explanation should I give our clients? That my manager failed to deliver the presentation properly, or that a red teamer was simply too tired to cope?”
Noeul pushed his chair back. “I’m in pain. I’m starving. And I can’t do this alone. It’ll take another few hours.”
“Then you won’t do it alone.”
Noeul frowned.
“We’ll continue at my place,” Chung-Hee said. “I’ll help you finish it.”
“No.” The answer came before Noeul could think about it.
Chung-Hee went still. Noeul’s heart began to beat faster, but he held his gaze. “I’ll stay here and finish it,” he said. “Or I’ll come in early tomorrow. I’m not going to your apartment.”
“Why?”
Noeul almost laughed. “You really need to ask?”
Neither spoke.
Then Chung-Hee exhaled. “Noeul, I have no intention of arguing with you tonight. I’m exhausted too.” His voice had softened. “We need to finish the analysis. That’s all.”
“I can finish it here.”
“You just told me you can’t do it alone.”
Noeul looked away.
“I’ll order whatever you want,” Chung-Hee continued. “We’ll eat, finish the work together, and you can sleep on the sofa if it gets too late. I’ll drive you back in the morning.”
Noeul remained silent. Every instinct told him to refuse again. Yesterday, he had told Duri he couldn’t keep letting Chung-Hee hurt him.
Then don’t.
And he had meant it. But saying no to Chung-Hee had never been as simple as saying the word.
Noeul glanced around the empty office. No coworkers. No San. No one left but the two of them. If Chung-Hee wanted to turn this into another confrontation, Noeul wasn’t sure the office would protect him any better than the penthouse.
He hated that his mind still worked this way: measuring his words, predicting Chung-Hee’s temper, calculating which choice was least likely to end badly. But surviving someone taught you their weather.
Noeul forced some lightness into his voice. “Do I actually get the option to say no?”
Chung-Hee regarded him for a moment. “No, unless you intend to leave the analysis unfinished.”
Noeul sighed. “Then I want steak.”
The tension in Chung-Hee’s face eased slightly.
“And matcha boba tea.”
A faint smile appeared. “Anything else?”
“My freedom?”
The smile disappeared.
Then Chung-Hee shook his head and reached for his coat. “Steak and boba. I can manage those.”
After a twenty-minute drive, the familiar building in Cheongdam-dong rose into view. Noeul stared at it through the car window. It had been a while since he had been here. For one brief second, he considered telling Chung-Hee he had changed his mind.
Then the car descended into the underground parking garage. Too late.
The apartment felt warmer than Noeul remembered. New furniture had appeared, along with small pieces of décor that made the enormous space seem less sterile. Noeul stepped inside and waited.
Chung-Hee removed his coat and blazer and disappeared toward his bedroom. “Don’t just stand there. You’ve been here before. Go take a shower. I’ll bring you clean clothes. There are fresh towels in the drawer.”
Noeul looked toward the bathroom. “I can shower at home.”
“You’ve been complaining that everything hurts for the past hour. Take a hot shower while we wait for the food.”
Noeul almost refused. Again. Then he looked at Chung-Hee. No anger. No threat. Just exhaustion.
“Fine.”
The shower was quick. He kept the bathroom door locked. When he came out, he was wearing the clothes Chung-Hee had left for him and towel-drying his hair.
“Hyung, let’s eat first, yeah? I’m starving.”
“I already set the table.”
Noeul had heard the doorbell while he was in the bathroom. The food and tea had arrived.
Dinner was strangely uneventful. No accusations. No arguments. No attempts to touch him. They ate, complained briefly about work, and returned to the analysis.
For the first hour, Noeul remained tense. Then work took over. Chung-Hee gave instructions; Noeul followed them carefully.
Nothing happened. Noeul hated how relieved that made him feel.
By the time Chung-Hee finished reviewing the document, Noeul was curled into the corner of the sofa, fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Done,” Chung-Hee said.
Noeul made a tired sound that might have been an answer.
“You should sleep.”
“I should go home.”
“You can barely keep your eyes open.”
Noeul tried to sit up. The room seemed to sway around him.
Chung-Hee sighed. “Sleep on the sofa. I’ll drive you to work in the morning.”
Noeul wanted to argue. Instead, his head fell back against the cushion. “Just the sofa.”
“Just the sofa.”
Chung-Hee fetched an extra blanket and draped it over him. Noeul watched him walk toward the bedroom.
“Goodnight, Noeul.”
“Goodnight, hyung.”
The bedroom door closed. Noeul lay still for another minute. Eventually, exhaustion won.
Noeul woke before Chung-Hee the next morning, his neck stiff from sleeping on the sofa. It was still dark. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was. Then he saw the enormous windows and the city beyond them.
Chung-Hee’s apartment.
Noeul sat up. He was alone. Still on the sofa. Still dressed. A quiet breath escaped him.
He stretched his aching neck and headed toward the kitchen. After the steak Chung-Hee had bought him the night before, Noeul decided to prepare breakfast for both of them. Something warm. Something ordinary.
The fresh vegetables and lean beef in the refrigerator gave him an idea.
Sogogi-mu-guk.
He put in his AirPods, started a soft playlist, and made himself a coffee while he worked. For several minutes, the apartment was peaceful. Beef simmering. Rice cooking. Music in his ears. Coffee warming his hands.
Then something on the counter caught his eye. A piece of beige paper lay beside an empty whiskey glass.
Noeul stopped chopping. There was something familiar about the paper.
He pulled out one AirPod. The apartment was completely silent.
He wiped his hands and picked it up. He knew he shouldn’t read it. Still, his eyes moved to the first line. His breath caught. He read it again. Then once more.
It was Haneul’s suicide note.
Noeul’s fingers tightened around the paper. With trembling hands, he continued.
Hyung,
I don’t think Noeul knows what Gong has done to me. At least, I hope he doesn’t. Please don’t blame him.
Noeul stopped breathing. His eyes moved back over the sentence.
I don’t think Noeul knows.
He read on.
I can’t live with this anymore. It’s been happening for almost a year. I was too scared to tell anyone. Gong kept touching me even when I told him not to. He forced himself on me. I tried to pretend I could endure it, but I can’t.
Noeul’s stomach turned. For one strange second, the words seemed to disappear from the page. A cold sensation crawled over his skin, followed by an urge to get out of his own body, so sudden and intense that he nearly dropped the note.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Haneul.
This was about Haneul. He forced himself to keep reading.
I feel sick all the time. I hate what he did to me. Sometimes I hate myself too, even though I know I shouldn’t. Every day feels like another day I have to survive, and I’m tired, hyung.
His vision blurred.
Please don’t blame Noeul. Whatever happens, don’t punish him for Gong.
Noeul stared at the final line. He read it again. Then the meaning of everything above it reached him at once. The paper slipped in his fingers.
“No…”
His knees weakened. He caught the edge of the counter, but it wasn’t enough. He sank to the floor, the note still clutched in one hand.
“No, no…”
His breathing came too quickly.
Gong.
Haneul.
The words refused to fit together. He covered his mouth, but a broken sound escaped anyway.
Chung-Hee appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. For a second, he didn’t understand what he was seeing. Then he noticed the beige paper in Noeul’s hand. His face changed.
“Noeul.”
He crossed the room quickly and took the note from him.
Noeul shoved at his arm. “Stay away from me.”
“Noeul.”
“Stay away from me, damn it!”
He scrambled backward until his back struck the cabinets.
“This isn’t true.”
Chung-Hee stared at him.
Noeul shook his head hard enough to make himself dizzy. “No. Gong wouldn’t…” His voice broke. “Why would he…?”
He couldn’t finish. Because he knew. Not the details. Not when. Not how often. But he knew what the words meant.
Noeul pressed both hands against his face.
“Gong raped Haneul.”
The sentence came out barely above a whisper.
Chung-Hee went still.
Noeul looked up at him. “You knew.”
Chung-Hee’s expression shifted. “You truly didn’t know?”
Noeul stared at him. “What?”