The case Seheon had taken on was a corporate lawsuit—a damages claim against a company executive. Representing the corporate plaintiff, he had filed suit against an executive who violated the articles of association. Seated beside him was the representative appointed in accordance with commercial law: an executive director elected at the general shareholders' meeting.
The presiding judge, seated at the center of the bench, gestured to the bailiff. After the bailiff repeatedly called the witness's name, a man went to the witness stand. Meanwhile, the opposing counsel stole a glance at Seheon, who was preparing documents, then averted his eyes when their gazes met.
From the gallery, Yoonshin and Secretary Tak watched this unfold.
The last time they had crossed paths in a courtroom, they had been on opposite sides. Now, Yoonshin had come to watch Seheon's trial with his permission. It felt like ages ago.
Watching Seheon in trial for the first time was like watching someone skate across ice. It was remarkably smooth, yet at the same time, the atmosphere was quite cold. It felt like a fierce brawl taking place in the dead of winter—one that the naked eye could barely see. Seheon seemed to have already seized the upper hand.
"Plaintiff's counsel, you may examine the witness."
At the judge's prompting, Seheon—impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit—stood before the witness. His cold eyes, somehow overpowering in their intensity, fixed squarely on the man.
He was undeniably tall and sharp-featured, and with him standing firm at the center, all attention and focus in the room naturally shifted to him. When his well-shaped lips slowly parted, every eye in the courtroom was solely on him.
"Witness. Have you heard of Commercial Act Article 399, Paragraph 1?"
The man, who had been gauging Seheon's mood, nodded.
"Yes."
"'When a director of a stock company acts in violation of statutes or the articles of association, or neglects his duties, he is liable to compensate the company for damages.' Is this your understanding as well?"
"Yes."
"Where is the most recent place you heard the words 'Commercial Act Article 399'?"
"Well, I already knew the statute, and it's common knowledge among executives, really."
"I asked where you heard this term *recently*."
Seheon repeated the question as if correcting a mistake. Though low, his voice was quite soft. The witness glanced at the defendant's counsel, his lips twitching before he reluctantly answered.
"I heard it from Director Jung while we were smoking together in the conference room. He said there was a law like this, that directors and auditors who violate the articles bear joint and several liability."
"And by Director Jung here, you mean the defendant. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"When did this conversation take place?"
"Early this year... shortly after the holidays."
"That coincides with when the defendant caused significant damages to your company. Truthfully, no matter how much one is an executive, it's rare to chat citing specific articles and paragraphs of the Commercial Act unless there's a particular incident. One might speak in general terms, but this is the sort of conversation usually had by in-house legal team leaders or those involved in litigation. Could it be that the defendant had something weighing on his mind?"
The moment Seheon finished, the defendant's counsel shot to his feet.
"Objection. This is a speculative leading question."
The judge sent Seheon a stern look.
"Sustained. Examine based on facts."
He offered a slight nod and continued his examination.
"Now, please look here. This is the on-site audio that proves exactly those facts."
A senior attorney working under Seheon presented evidence on the display screen. It was footage filmed inside the company's conference room. They had filmed the overall proceedings with the consent of the attending executives, but it seemed an employee's error had resulted in the recording continuing during a break.
Having clearly shown everyone the defendant visibly fretting while rambling on about the Commercial Act, Seheon approached the witness stand once more.
"The witness and the defendant entered the company in the same year. Just the two of you. It was a time when the country was struggling, having just barely overcome the foreign exchange crisis. After fiercely preparing to join during such difficult times, you must have worked yourself to the bone for the company. That's how you both reached your current positions."
"That's correct."
"However, the defendant and you hold the same rank, yet your salaries differ. Yours is roughly double. Is that correct?"
"Yes. As far as I know, that's right."
"If the company to which you devoted your body and soul gave your peer a drastically higher salary while freezing yours time and again, and if that was due simply to academic background rather than work performance... by natural human psychology, willful neglect of duty..."
"Objection!"
Before he could finish, the defendant's counsel objected. Seheon narrowed his eyes and stared quietly at the opposing counsel.
"I hadn't finished speaking."
"Conduct your cross-examination! A courtroom is not a place for conjecture."
"I am examining based solely on facts. The salary gap between the two men is a fact. The defendant's neglect of his duties is a fact. And that he caused damages in the hundreds of billions to the company and is being sued by the employer is also a fact! Where exactly is my conjecture? I, too, am curious."
Seeing signs of an argument brewing between the two lawyers, the judge immediately intervened. An indescribably uncomfortable tension filled the air.
Watching every moment of this process in detail, Yoonshin felt that Seheon was deliberately, gradually steering the courtroom's initially ice-cold atmosphere in an emotional direction.
The case itself was already a fight between the powerful and the weak, so there was no real need to squeeze and shake the defendant's weaknesses. That's why he had called it a simple lawsuit. However, Seheon was trying to persuade the bench and the gallery of the larger narrative—that the defendant, enraged by discriminatory treatment, had intentionally inflicted massive damages on the company—by appealing to universal emotions.
For the moment, the defendant might seem pitiable for having suffered unfair treatment. But since starting this work, Yoonshin had learned that the world's rules did not run so simply. Surprisingly, as time passed, people tended to identify more with the obvious stronger party. The weak did not band together to fight. Seheon would likely exploit that as the trial progressed.
*He worked hard his whole life, only to make one mistake... It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.*
While Yoonshin was thinking this, Seheon—once again the picture of perfection standing at the center—swiftly swept his gaze across the gallery. Then his eyes collided with Yoonshin in the corner. Yoonshin immediately offered a greeting with his eyes, but Seheon looked away as if wondering when he had been staring, and smoothly continued his examination.
For some reason, he felt slighted, as if he'd been rejected despite doing nothing wrong. Yoonshin bit his lower lip. Just then, a phone call came in.
Yoonshin checked the screen and briefly made a complicated expression. He then signaled to Secretary Tak that he would step out for a moment, and quietly slipped out of the courtroom.
Only after walking down the deserted hallway and around the corner did he answer the call.
"Yes. This is Attorney Do Yoonshin of Doguk Law Firm."
His brow furrowed in perplexity as he quietly listened to the other person. However, he shaped his voice to be as polite as possible.
"Yes. I heard about it from my sister last time. But I'm afraid this weekend won't work due to my schedule. Next week or the week after... Yes, that works. Yes. Yes. Let's do that. Taesan Hotel. The first Sunday of next month at 6 o'clock. Understood."
Feeling inexplicably drained, he leaned his back against the wall and pressed his palm to his forehead. He didn't particularly have a fever, but strangely, his skin felt hot to the touch. However, he deliberately put on a bright voice so the other person wouldn't notice anything amiss.
"No, probably not. My sister won't be able to make it. I'll go alone. It's not a formal family introduction, just our first time meeting. I've already received a photo, so I'll be able to recognize her. Yes, I'll see you then."
Ending the brief call, Yoonshin let out a deep breath.
He had no illusions about marriage. No expectations either. It wasn't that he distrusted or avoided it—he simply didn't yet know what it was.
He had vaguely thought that, like everyone else, he would probably marry when the time was right and he met a suitable person. Perhaps, like his sister, he might one day fall into a blazing, passionate love and things would proceed that way. He didn't particularly care either way. He was open to either. He believed that sooner or later, in whatever form, he would meet his destined connection, whether the feelings ran hot or lukewarm. Just... not like this.
Going on arranged dates was fine. If it was truly meant to be, the circumstances of their meeting wouldn't matter. But the fact that it was his brother-in-law who wanted this meeting continued to weigh on his chest like a lump. Even with divorce talk circulating, his sister had come in person to deliver the photo, which meant she was putting considerable effort into this.
*I have to at least meet her.*
But he worried whether the meeting went well or poorly. If it went well and the marriage proceeded smoothly, his own position could become awkward when his sister eventually separated. If it didn't go well and he felt no connection, it would be torture to force the relationship when the overall situation was already uncomfortable.
He felt like a child who could do neither this nor that. The adults were proceeding with things while keeping secrets tightly locked away, and he was merely swept along aimlessly in the middle of it all.
He wished someone would hold him up so he wouldn't collapse.
And reaching that thought, someone's strikingly handsome face from inside that courtroom suddenly sprang vividly to mind.
"What the hell is wrong with me lately. Are there so few people I can rely on that it had to be him..."
Flushing deeply with confusion, Yoonshin looked around at his surroundings. Just then, Secretary Tak appeared. His heart thumped wildly as if he'd been caught doing something wrong. Yoonshin pressed the back of his hand against his flushed cheeks and approached him.
"Oh, Secretary Tak, why are you out here?"
"'Why don't you have anyone to rely on'? Is something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing. Just talking to myself."
"You have me."
"Thank you for saying that. It means a lot."
Grateful, Yoonshin managed a smile, and Secretary Tak smiled back. Then he continued.
"I think this session will be over soon. It's not even a contest."
"It did look that way."
"By the way, Senior Attorney Song suggested we have dinner together since we're heading out. I only asked Senior Attorney Kang and forgot to tell you. Do you have time? If you do, I'll make a reservation."
"Wouldn't I be out of place intruding on a gathering of three alumni?"
"Oh, Senior Attorney Kang doesn't feel that kind of bond anyway. Besides, once they start drawing lines, I'd be the odd one out too. Three attorneys and just me, a secretary. Is there anything you'd like to eat?"
"I eat anything."
"That's honestly the hardest answer to work with."
Secretary Tak frowned slightly, seemingly dissatisfied with the response. Then he turned away as if understanding. Yoonshin left Secretary Tak to his call and returned to the courtroom. He settled into his seat and gazed at Seheon, who was conversing with his client at the plaintiff's table.
Perhaps feeling Yoonshin's persistent gaze, Seheon glanced over while the opposing counsel examined a witness. But confronted head-on with Yoonshin drooping like wet seaweed, eyes alone shining brightly, he immediately furrowed his brow.
Into his mathematically rational expression, emotion mixed like an impurity. Written plainly across his smooth face was:
*What's your problem now?*
Unable to answer his silent question, Yoonshin averted his gaze first.
* * *
The gathering, which had seemed likely to disperse after the first round, continued to a second. Attorney Song, having contacted the firm mid-meal, called in several other lawyers still at the office, greatly expanding the party. The private room of the upscale bar was filled with a raucous atmosphere.
This was Yoonshin's first time attending anything resembling a company dinner, and he was slightly surprised inwardly. He had witnessed firsthand the very people who were always stiffly dressed in suits and buried in work now playing with surprising enthusiasm. Regardless of age and rank, they devoted themselves wholeheartedly to enjoying the drinking table.
Amidst this, Seheon had tolerated chatting with Mihee in the quiet atmosphere, but anything beyond that seemed unbearably exhausting. He slipped out midway and lit a cigarette in the terrace-style smoking area. While he was fumbling in his jacket pocket, Yoonshin—who had quietly followed him—quickly lit it with a disposable lighter.
"Here, fire."
Seheon seemed to simply stare at Yoonshin, who had appeared beside him, then soon tilted his head and lit his cigarette on the flame. His lips, precariously holding the filter, were red.
"If you have something to say, say it."
"Do you usually hold out like this at company dinners? I thought you'd leave early, so it's a bit unexpected."
"If you're asking why I'm not doing whatever the hell I want, as usual."
"I didn't ask it so crudely. Just what do you take me for?"
Perhaps the alcohol had gotten to him. Strangely, he burst into a short laugh and answered readily.
"It's written in the appended contract."
"Wow, was that Attorney Song's handiwork? Either he has foresight, or he knows you well."
Seheon didn't answer, but Yoonshin sensed that his silence affirmed either possibility. A cold wind enveloped them. They closed their mouths for a moment and enjoyed the cool air. Seheon stood with his back to the railing and rested both arms on it. *Hwoo*—every time he exhaled, pale smoke met the world's light before soon dissipating. Yoonshin's eyes narrowed as he watched this with no small regret.
The very moment of being there with him felt exactly like a scene from a novel.
While lost in that serene mood, Seheon unexpectedly yanked him out of it.
"Why did you follow me out again. We've been together all day. Let's get a divorce already. I'm sick of this."
"I'm still fresh. You're a type I've never met before, Senior Attorney."
It was as if the conversation he'd had with Secretary Tak had been returned verbatim to the person in question. Hearing the answer, Seheon let out a hollow laugh in disbelief. Then, with the hand not holding the cigarette, he poked Yoonshin's chest. Long fingers pressed into the fabric like an arrow striking home, then slowly retreated.
He thought that was the end of the contact, but Seheon brushed Yoonshin's chest again with his fingertips. This time, he didn't pull away. He slowly dragged them upward, grazing the prominent Adam's apple. But that wasn't all. Reversing his path, he changed direction and slowly, slowly moved back down. Passing the solar plexus and gradually heading toward his belt buckle—that languid movement was terrifyingly erotic.
This was the first time he had felt this kind of crisis from another man. And every time he met Seheon, he gave Yoonshin exactly this sensation.
Yoonshin barely swallowed his dry saliva, and the moment Seheon's hand reached his flat abdomen, he grabbed it.
Even though their skin touched, Seheon didn't get angry. Rather, as if amused, he took a drag of his cigarette and gripped Yoonshin's nape, pulling him close with a sharp tug.
"Senior Attorney."
A flustered Yoonshin tried to call out to him, but to no avail. Seheon guided Yoonshin's slender frame even closer, and once they were quite near, he stubbed out his cigarette and exhaled the smoke directly into his face with a "Hoo." Coughing and squeezing his eyes shut then opening them, Yoonshin's field of vision was filled with nothing but Seheon.
"Are you trying to kill me with secondhand smoke?"
"That would take too long. Too much risk. It's a method I'd never use."
"Are you drunk? I thought you were drinking nonstop."
"I did drink more than usual today."
"Why? Your argument today was excellent, and..."
He abruptly cut Yoonshin off.
"My head hurts because of you."
"I don't understand what you mean all of a sudden. Did I do something wrong?"
"You annoy me."
"..."
"My headaches and insomnia have been terrible lately. It's all because of you."
He had no recollection of doing anything that would upset him, either professionally or personally. In other words, Seheon was picking a fight for no reason.
Yet strangely, Yoonshin wasn't displeased at all. It was because he sensed the underlying emotions that the normally skilled and accomplished man was hiding behind these clumsy expressions. He didn't know exactly what they were, but he could feel that they definitely existed.
The palm wrapped around his neck stirred. It grazed the soft skin as if caressing tender flesh. Naturally, heat built at the friction point. Yoonshin's body temperature rose along with it.
Still so close to each other, the acrid scent of nicotine mixed with alcohol wafted from him. Layered over that was the fragrance of the cologne he often wore.
Dizzy, Yoonshin pushed his hand away. Then, as if to bind Seheon, he stretched both arms toward the railing. And, just as Seheon often did to him, he trapped Seheon in his embrace, literally blocking all four sides. Seheon leaned both elbows on the railing, his cool eyes fixed on Yoonshin.
"Is this insubordination? I told you not to touch my body."
"It's because you touched me enough to make me feel threatened. This isn't insubordination; it's self-defense."
He couldn't understand him at all. Like a negotiation, like a tug-of-war—Seheon would approach and ask, then play innocent. So when Yoonshin thought this wasn't it and tried to dismiss his delusion, Seheon would come close again and stir him up as if nothing had happened.
It was none other than Kang Seheon—he had absolutely no need to raise his price in a relationship with a mere associate attorney. Therefore, the accumulating misunderstandings were his fault, or at least his no-fault liability.
Could it really be true that he had no interest in him? He said otherwise, but no matter how much he thought about it, Yoonshin's prediction felt right.
After hesitating briefly, Yoonshin borrowed liquid courage.
"André Gide said that one who cannot bear to lose sight of the shore will never discover a new ocean."
Surprisingly, Seheon properly received this ball.
"What sea does the fourth-year want to find?"
"A sea that will rescue me from crisis."
Hearing this, Seheon seemed to have some inkling of what he meant, asking again in a tone of a much gentler frequency.
"What danger are you in?"
"You make it clear first, Senior Attorney. Do you have any ulterior motives toward me? I'm not speaking under the influence right now. I'm asking very seriously."
Surprisingly, he didn't scoff. He merely looked at Yoonshin with a very sticky, lingering gaze. So Yoonshin had to overcome his embarrassment and fill this space further with his voice.
"I'm asking if you do."
Seheon, who had been sending a stubborn gaze as if stripping a person bare, eventually replied as if chewing each syllable.
His voice was low, and lower still.
"If I do."
Seheon's deeply submerged, monotonous voice lodged clearly in his ear.
Yoonshin flinched for a moment and swallowed dryly.
The answer he returned was but a brief three-word reply, yet Yoonshin's mind felt ready to burst as he mulled it over. His calm voice made Yoonshin's slender frame tense far more than if he had raised it. Though he had asked half-madly, it was likely because he had never imagined those words actually coming from the cold, authoritarian Seheon's mouth.
"If I do..."
As Yoonshin voiced and chewed on the response, his expression slowly heated. Today, for some reason, it was difficult to look directly at that handsome face he had always been able to face.
His lips went dry and his heart pounded.
"If you do... wouldn't you just give it to me instead of holding onto it? My circumstances are a bit urgent."
Chewing over these words carefully, he asked back.
"Are you gay?"
"I've never questioned it. So I vaguely assumed I was heterosexual."
"You're not even gay, and in your eyes, there's no obvious interest, affection, or even sexual curiosity toward me. Yet it's fine to have ulterior motives. You're in a hurry. This is interesting."
Feeling his cheeks burn, he bit his innocent lips. Yet he remained acutely aware of Seheon's gaze. With the intuition and judgment of a wild animal, Seheon would not miss a single subtle shift in his expression.
To calm himself, Yoonshin breathed deeply inward, then answered a beat late.
"At the very least, I have respect for you in the professional sphere. How do you live thinking only of yourself and somehow always winning in the end? Can I learn that? Sometimes I'm jealous."
Along with: sometimes he looked a bit lonely, he had good points that others couldn't see, he often made Yoonshin's heart race. Though these thoughts came to mind, Yoonshin hid his cards and held his tongue.
In truth, Yoonshin felt ambivalent toward Seheon. He was someone worthy of respect, yet at the same time, someone it wouldn't be strange to regard with contempt. Even while thinking he was a bad person, Yoonshin wanted to be close to him. And more than anything, he needed Seheon.
It was fine even if he didn't physically help him and his sister. He wanted to lean his heart on him when he felt lonely. People often said love doesn't put food on the table. Yoonshin knew that too. What put food on the table was generally money and tangible power. Love, friendship—hearts in any form had no strength. Still, there were moments in life when such spiritual comfort and support were needed.
Now was such a time.
For the first time in recent years, Yoonshin felt that impulse, that desire, directed solely at Seheon. Yet Seheon kept confusing him, making him unsure whether he could cross that initial boundary.
"There has to be a reason you keep pushing me and touching me like this. Still haven't found the reason? That doesn't make sense. You've already found it; you just don't want to admit it."
The quietly silent man answered indifferently.
"Who's touching you? We probably just brushed against each other."
Even after coming this far together, Seheon was still playing dumb, and Yoonshin finally snapped.
"Who brushes against someone's chest and nape like that?"
"Do you have proof?"
Of course he didn't. Even if by chance a nearby CCTV had captured footage, if Seheon claimed he was merely brushing dust off his clothes, anyone would believe him. But as Seheon had once said, there existed that subtle atmosphere detectable only by the person subjected to one-sided physical contact. And every time Seheon did this, Yoonshin felt a peculiar sensation.
"Fine. Let's say it's nothing. Then why do you keep testing the waters?"
"Too much poison to pick up and eat right away."
"So you're boiling it? Is it cooked through?"
"Don't be so curious. If I start getting curious too, there'll be no answer. Just letting it be is much better for you."
Hearing this, Yoonshin felt the constantly blurry things finally taking clear shape. Seheon seemed to have forgotten, but Yoonshin was a decent lawyer—one he had said was "passable." Perhaps because it was his own affair, he hadn't been as objective as usual, but he still possessed the basic insight and judgment to analyze the situation.
"Are you scared I'll end up liking you?"
Whether it was because Yoonshin had struck a nerve or because it was simply absurd, the ever-leisurely Seheon hardened his expression and sealed his lips. Facing this, Yoonshin felt his stomach churn and his hands tremble. Seheon didn't miss that opening, immediately reversing their positions and pressing Yoonshin's slender frame against the railing.
*Thud.* His back struck the hard surface. From where Seheon had stood moments ago, Yoonshin now stared at him with a hint of resentment.
"Ugh! That hurts. Just because I'm a man doesn't mean I can't feel pain."
"Why were you crying that time?"
It was a topic Yoonshin had never dreamed would come up at this moment, so he stammered.
"Cr-cry? Who, who cried?"
"Shall I recite your date of birth for you?"
"Senior Attorney, what exactly did you see?"
"Hmm. My associate shoved in a street corner at night eating instant noodles?"
"How did you..."
He had reflexively tried to deny it, but it fell short.
It seemed Seheon had seen through his clumsy lies from the very beginning. Putting the fact that Seheon had seen him into context, everything from the day after his sister visited made sense. He concluded that Seheon had turned his car back in the parking lot because he was worried about Yoonshin, who had been crying.
He had guessed Seheon might have suspected something was wrong from his swollen eyelids and bloodshot eyes, or wondered if he had been crying. But hearing that he had actually known left Yoonshin with unusual sentiment. Had Kang Seheon been capable of such things?
"You were curled up in a corner bawling your eyes out, just like when your father died. Do you know how annoyed I was because of you that day? I couldn't sleep all night."
The words passing through his red lips were clearly in the past tense, not the present. Yoonshin, who had been wondering what Seheon was talking about, belatedly opened his eyes wide.
It had been too long ago, and the moment so brief that Yoonshin had never been confident whether Seheon remembered it or not.
"You remembered that too, Senior Attorney?"
"You keep catching my eye. No—I keep stealing glances at you, afraid you'll be shoved in some corner crying again."
"..."
"Having something other than work stuck in my head makes me extremely uncomfortable. I feel like I'm going crazy."
Yoonshin felt several puzzle pieces finally clicking completely into place. Seheon had remembered everything too. That's why their eyes had kept meeting when he came to watch Yoonshin's trial with Mihee. He had recognized him.
Their fierce gazes traveled back and forth, aimed solely at each other. Staring at Yoonshin's pale face for quite some time, Seheon suddenly bit his lip as if unable to endure it and mussed his own necktie slightly. His breathing seemed a bit rapid, his face as if flushed. Then he pulled the soft end of his tie and held it out before Yoonshin.
"Kiss it."
Yoonshin's surprised eyes widened roundly. Gradually, crimson spread across his face like seeping ink.
"Wh-what are you doing all of a sudden?"
"I said kiss this."
"Why on earth would I... it's not even your lips. Isn't this a bit cowardly?"
"Shut up and do it. That's an order."
He felt somehow resentful, but that was all. He couldn't ask why Seheon wouldn't express his feelings more clearly if he didn't want to. Besides, his own heart was likely in a far more uncertain, ambiguous form than whatever Seheon harbored, so he had no right to complain.
After hesitating, Yoonshin soon seemed to make up his mind and took a deep breath. Seheon's persistent gaze kept landing on his lips, and his slightly flushed cheeks twitched before he grabbed the end of Seheon's tie and rubbed his lips against it as if wiping his mouth.
Seheon seemed to observe this very seriously from beginning to end, and the moment Yoonshin pulled his lips away, he rubbed his own red lips over the same spot. Not satisfied with even that, he extended the tip of his tongue and licked it long and slow. During this, Yoonshin offered no resistance, no reaction—he simply watched him endlessly like a captured prisoner.
As he tilted his head and kissed the tie, he slowly raised the position of his pupils. The moment their eyes met, Yoonshin felt faint, his chin trembling.
*Hah*—though their sensitive skin hadn't even touched, rough sighs burst from them simultaneously.
He didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed in his life. He couldn't think of anything else to say. While Yoonshin struggled to steady his ragged breathing, Seheon called his name in a deeply sunken voice.
"Do Yoonshin."
It was the first time he had called him by his full three-syllable name.
He didn't know why. It was his own name that he heard and saw every day, but hearing it in the frequency Seheon created sent an intensely thrilling sensation through him, enoug