Passion Novel - Volume 6 - Chapter 152 - Hidden Track 2nd

“Ugh.”

Jeong Taeui let out a single groan. With his mouth still shaped in that “ugh” groan, and with that same horrified expression, he froze on the spot. A single photograph fluttered from his stiff hand and fell to the floor.

He couldn’t bring himself to pick up the photo that had fallen to the floor. He had only glimpsed it for less than a second, but the image captured in the photo was so shockingly seared into his mind that it clung to his eyelids and wouldn’t disappear.

“What did I just see…?”

Jeong Taeui’s lips trembled, pale and frozen. His stiff body wouldn’t move, so he merely cast a quick glance down. He stared blankly at the photo lying face down right before his big toe, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

No, maybe I saw it wrong. Sometimes people see things that aren’t there, right? Yes, and besides, aren’t these days chronically lacking in sleep? If I don’t get a good night’s sleep and make it up with short naps during the day, it wouldn’t be strange to see things that aren’t there.

Jeong Taeui slowly bent his reluctant body. And with hesitant fingers, he picked up the photo. He didn’t have the courage to flip the overturned photo, but he had to confirm that his eyes had deceived him, so Jeong Taeui, with a great effort, flipped the photo over. And the next moment, a breath escaped his lips. He wished it had been a sigh of relief, but it was a groan of lament.

“My God…”

The photo fluttered from between his fingers again. The photo, which had fallen at his feet once more, stopped without being overturned this time, revealing its contents starkly. In that photo, someone Jeong Taeui knew well was wailing. They were tied to a bed, completely naked, their private parts exposed, sobbing profusely.

No, saying they were completely naked would be incorrect. To be precise, a gun barrel was deeply inserted between their buttocks—more precisely, into their anus.

He had already heard the news that Moro was coming today. Kyle had suddenly mentioned it while they were having breakfast this morning.

“Come to think of it, Taei, you knew Moro, didn’t you?”

Jeong Taeui paused his hand, which was scooping vegetable soup, and looked at Kyle.

“Ah… Yes, I know him.”

“Right, that’s right. You two got along well when you were staying at our house back then.”

“No, I don’t recall getting along particularly well… But why him?”

Jeong Taeui chewed over the countless memories that came with the name, then suddenly lost his appetite for the soup. He put down his spoon and rubbed the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Realizing Rita was glaring at him coldly from the side, he quickly pulled his thumb away and offered an excuse, “Nothing got on it, it’s just a habit.”

Kyle, either not seeing Jeong Taeui’s bitter expression or pretending not to, said with a friendly smile, “Yes, Moro will be arriving late this afternoon. He decided to spend his year-end vacation here. He’ll probably stay at this house tonight, though he’ll be staying in his hometown from tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes,” Jeong Taeui mumbled, unnecessarily wiping the corner of his mouth again, where nothing had been.

Come to think of it, he seemed to have vaguely heard that T&R was developing some kind of prototype recently. An ambitious project they were meticulously preparing, perhaps. Anyone who heard about it would go crazy and rush to see it, he had thought, but it seems that gun maniac was actually coming.

“That’s great,” Jeong Taeui said with a slight smile. He added, “It’ll be nice to see him after a long time.”

Yes. Come to think of it, he had a grudge against that guy. He really had to meet him once. He’d forgotten, but hearing the name brought it back.

Jeong Taeui glanced at Ilay, who was sitting across the table. These days, Ilay, who was buried in work for reasons unknown, had come to Jeong Taeui’s room last night after piling up mountains of tasks, tumbled around for a bit, and then returned to his room, claiming he still had work to do. He probably only got a few hours of sleep before dawn, but he didn’t look particularly tired, though he was silent. It seemed he would go back to bed after finishing his meal.

Ilay, who absolutely detested Rita’s nagging, surprisingly didn’t defy her. This morning too, it seemed Rita had come to his bedroom three times to wake him, telling him, “Even if you sleep, have breakfast first, then go back to sleep,” forcing him to get up when he wanted to sleep more.

So Ilay, who would usually exchange a word or two during meals, was silent today.

Jeong Taeui silently resumed his meal.

Yes. How could he forget the grudge he held against Moro?

Looking back now, it might not be considered a grudge in terms of the outcome, but considering that guy’s intentions, he definitely deserved to bear a grudge.

When he was being chased by that lunatic Ilay Riegrow, and it was a situation where he could actually die if caught, that bad guy Moro coolly sold Jeong Taeui out for just a single gun. They weren’t exactly on good terms to begin with, but still, to trade a person’s life for a mere gun.

Jeong Taeui had carefully engraved that grudge in his heart.

…But.

Separate from that, there was something else bothering him.

A photograph he had accidentally found a while ago while looking for a book in Ilay’s room.

It must have been carelessly tucked into the desk, because when Jeong Taeui pulled out a dust-covered book from the far side of the desk, a photo fell out with the dust. Jeong Taeui picked it up, intending to put it back, and nearly fainted when he saw the photo without thinking much of it.

Moro was in it. But it wasn’t just an ordinary portrait. It was a photo of him in a state that he couldn’t possibly talk about carelessly anywhere—a photo that, if spoken about, might even make the speaker be ostracized.

Why was that photo in Ilay’s room? If he had such a photo, it couldn’t be an ordinary relationship, could it be that Ilay and Moro had an unusual relationship…?

Jeong Taeui put down his spoon again. Imagining something unseemly while thinking, his appetite disappeared once more.

He had wanted to ask Ilay about the photo, but these days, Ilay was overwhelmed with work, and Jeong Taeui wasn’t exactly free either, so he kept forgetting. When it did come to mind, there were usually other people around, making it impossible to ask.

Actually, he didn’t really think they had an unusual relationship. What shocked Jeong Taeui most about that photo wasn’t that Ilay had it, but the fact that Moro was in such a photo itself.

…It was a Colt .45.

Jeong Taeui remembered that eye-rotting photo surprisingly well. What was lodged between Moro’s legs was a Colt .45 pistol.

“He went on and on about a single Colt with me…”

His hand, holding the fork, clenched involuntarily. Kyle, noticing the unusual tension, tilted his head. Jeong Taeui quickly smiled and speared a cooked vegetable with his fork.

Actually, there was another reason why he couldn’t bring himself to rush to Ilay and ask him at that moment.

Jeong Taeui, not as malicious as Moro, never revealed it anywhere for Moro’s honor, but in Jeong Taeui’s eyes, Moro was far beyond being just a maniac. He recalled a time, long ago, when Moro was praising a gun with endless admiration, and Jeong Taeui was horrified. Moro’s crotch had noticeably bulged as he passionately extolled the virtues of the gun, his eyes gleaming with rapture.

Could it be that Moro, that guy, is so obsessed with guns that he’s actually trying to have sex with them…?

Jeong Taeui lost his appetite for the third time and put down his fork. It seemed he was not destined to enjoy breakfast today.

Jeong Taeui thought about finishing his meal as is, but then remembered that Moro would be coming late in the afternoon, so they’d likely have dinner together. His appetite would be even worse then, so it seemed better to eat well now. So Jeong Taeui picked up his fork again.

Come to think of it, it had been quite a while since he last saw him.

Jeong Taeui counted on his fingers, wondering how many years it had been, and was somewhat surprised to realize how quickly time had flown by.

Although largely a formality, he was an international criminal, so he couldn’t openly travel. He had tried to live a quiet and respectable life—of course, even amidst that, Ilay had caused several near-disasters—and therefore, he should have been enjoying a leisurely and gentle existence.

But for some reason, even though he wasn’t showing his face in places where he might be officially recognized, he didn’t feel at all leisurely. It was probably because he was overwhelmed with work.

Time kept flying by. Before he knew it, the moment he thought was “now” was already fading into the distant past.

Moro, it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen this guy. Come to think of it, it really has been a long time.

…But seeing his face like this, the grudge wells up again.

Jeong Taeui watched him, a large sports bag slung over his shoulder, as he entered the entryway. His familiar face hadn’t changed in years. Moro, who already knew the layout of this house—which hadn’t changed much in years either—was about to head to the guest room when he saw Jeong Taeui. Yes, people don’t change much in just a few years. Moro’s eyes immediately narrowed in irritation.

“Why are you here, you heinous terrorist?”

“…”

He really hasn’t changed. Jeong Taeui’s eyes naturally narrowed in irritation too.

But if he thought about it, wasn’t this a case of the pot calling the kettle black?

As Jeong Taeui recalled, he had certainly repaid his debt to Moro. That damn Colt, which he still couldn’t forget, he had definitely repaid. But despite that, hadn’t that guy just abandoned Jeong Taeui to the reaper, casually grabbed a new gun, and flown off?

The grudge surged, and though it was a rather fatal and private matter that he thought he should ask about slowly later when the opportunity arose, Jeong Taeui spoke with a subtle nuance in his voice.

“Is your Colt .45 doing well?”

He wondered if he had gone too far, but on the other hand, it was possible that the guy wouldn’t even understand what he was talking about. He wouldn’t think Jeong Taeui had seen such a photo, and besides—he didn’t really want to think about it—perhaps such incidents happened so often that the gun changed every time. In that case, a Colt .45 wouldn’t be anything special.

Besides, it happened years ago, so he probably wouldn’t even know what I’m talking about, Jeong Taeui thought, scratching his head.

But he was wrong.

The moment he heard those words, Moro’s gaze turned icy blue. In an instant, his eyes filled with a murderous intent, as if a suppressed grudge had flared to life.

“Colt .45… Yes, it’s doing very well. I couldn’t bear to throw it away, so I’ve kept it very safe deep inside my room. Guns are innocent. All the bad things are… you!!”

Moro slammed his sports bag onto the floor and pointed a finger at Jeong Taeui.

Jeong Taeui, who had never expected such a violent reaction, flinched and took a step back. He blinked widely a couple of times, and then, belatedly hearing Moro’s vengeful words, he glared.

“What do you mean, I’m all the bad things! You subtly playing around with a Colt .45 is because your tastes are weird!”

“It’s not my taste! I said it’s not! How could I put my precious, beloved children in such a place…!”

Moro shrieked. Jeong Taeui took another step back from his extraordinary shout, which sounded as if he wanted to devour someone.

“…What, then? Why did you play around like that?”

When Jeong Taeui asked suspiciously, lowering his voice a tone, Moro, who had dramatically slumped over his sports bag on the floor, buried his face in it. His shaking shoulders seemed to convey his distress, as if he were crying. However, something hard slightly showed through the fabric beneath his upper body’s weight, which was pressing down on the sports bag.

It was clearly a pistol that could fit in one hand.

To think he felt the need to carry at least one gun even while on vacation, this guy must truly pour his soul into guns. Yes, if you’re going to do ‘that’ with guns anyway, just marry a gun, marry a gun.

Wondering very suspiciously how he’d brought that gun all the way from Hong Kong, Jeong Taeui stood there, rooted to the spot, until the trembling, sobbing Moro finally raised his head.

“Because you… because you made that ominous request to that Rick guy, look what happened to me…! No, I’m fine! Yes, conceding a hundred times, I mean, my asshole was torn a bit, and I had trouble every time I went to the bathroom for a few days, but let’s say that’s fine! What did my lovely darling do wrong?! The Colt .45, that commonly used, efficient, and pleasant-to-handle gun, what did it do wrong?! Tae-yi, you, you, do you have a grudge against Colt Industries?!”

Amidst the torrent of words he instantly spewed out, Jeong Taeui frowned, selectively listening and filtering.

“Rick? …Ilay? Why him? What ominous request did I make to him…?”

Come to think of it, that photo also came from Ilay’s room.

Jeong Taeui, replaying Moro’s words, suddenly glared fiercely.

“Don’t talk nonsense! I almost actually believed you for a moment. That photo’s background is clearly the UNHRDO Asia Branch office! If Ilay was in UNHRDO, that was years ago, and do you think he was the kind of guy who’d readily grant requests back then?!”

Even now, if you want him to do something properly, he always sets conditions!

Though his anger was slightly misdirected, at this point, Jeong Taeui inwardly screamed, ‘If he’s going to get mad about being pierced by a mere gun, I would have died of high blood pressure ages ago, you idiot!’

However, knowing that the reply would inevitably be, ‘Well, who told you to get on his bad side! You dug your own grave and lay down in it, why blame others!’—and because he had no rebuttal—Jeong Taeui swallowed that scream.

“That’s none of my business! That guy said he had a promise with you and he… he made me like that!”

Moro screamed furiously. Then he collapsed onto the sports bag again, his shoulders heaving. Ah, now that he looked, there was another gun protruding from the side. It was sticking out, its outline visible. How many guns did he carry in that bag anyway?

Jeong Taeui thought with a disgusted expression, yet at the same time, his mind was racing with Moro’s words.

If Ilay had said something, he wouldn’t have just bluffed or spoken nonsense, and he wouldn’t have just grabbed a perfectly fine person and done that to them without reason, so it seemed reasonable to assume Moro’s words were true. Reasonable, but…

“Oh? Ah, I completely forgot. Here, take it. It’s a gift.”

When Jeong Taeui thrust the photo in front of Ilay’s nose, Ilay glanced at it as if to ask what it was, then mumbled, “Ah,” casually. Jeong Taeui stretched his arm out, holding the photo as far away from his eyes as possible, then squinted at it from the corner of his eye and made a disgusted face.

“No, if you’re going to give a gift, make it something decent, not something so grotesque…”

Jeong Taeui mumbled, fluttering the photo with his fingertips.

It was past 2 AM, but Ilay, who had multiple windows open on his monitor and was studying graphs and charts, glanced at Jeong Taeui and then turned back around. However, he hadn’t turned off the power, indicating he only planned to rest for a moment, as he still had a lot of work left. He took off his glasses, placed them on the desk, and looked at Jeong Taeui askance.

“Why? Don’t you like it? I said I’d get revenge on Moro on your behalf, remember? Being pierced by a gun he loves so much, there couldn’t have been a greater blow to him.”

Ilay took the photo from Jeong Taeui’s hand, looking at it indifferently, and mumbled. Jeong Taeui frowned.

“Revenge on my behalf, what are you talking about…?”

As he spoke, something slightly clicked in his mind. Now that he thought about it, it seemed such a conversation had taken place. He couldn’t recall exactly when, but he was sure they had talked about it.

Ilay sighed lightly, seeing Jeong Taeui’s puzzled expression.

“Did you forget? When I dragged you—no, took you—back to Hong Kong after you ran away and hid here. Yes, before going to Seringe. That’s when I tried to enter the UNHRDO branch, and you insisted on coming with me. Saying you had business with Moro.”

“…Ah.”

A short sound escaped Jeong Taeui’s lips.

He remembered. Yes, that was it. The vague memory grew clearer and clearer.

Yes, that’s right. Back then, burning with a grudge against Moro, he had vowed to go back to the branch and crush Moro, since he was dragged back to Hong Kong anyway. But outsiders were forbidden from entering UNHRDO, so he ended up having to stay in Hong Kong.

That’s when. …That’s when.

Jeong Taeui’s expression turned cold as he recalled the memory. Another memory simultaneously resurfaced.

“Yes… that’s right. Back then. This…”

Jeong Taeui glared at the photo with icy eyes. Because of this pathetic thing, this pathetic photo.

“You remember it too. You asked me then, sucking on it.”

“I did not!”

No, he had indeed sucked on it, but he had no memory of “asking” for anything while doing so. He regretted it so much at the time. He should have just waited to meet Moro far in the future; why did he open his mouth to that guy?

It was the first time Jeong Taeui had performed oral sex so explicitly. Of course, even before then—when he still believed this world was functioning normally—he had engaged in oral foreplay with people he was dating. But that was limited to the shoulders, chest, or waist.

Jeong Taeui shivered, recalling the painful memory.

“Jeong Taei. It’s not just once or twice, you’ve done it so much you’re practically worn out, why are you acting like this? Your face is flushed again.”

Ilay, who had been watching Jeong Taeui with amusement, chuckled. Jeong Taeui sat down weakly on the bed right behind him.

“It’s different, it’s different. Then and now are different.”

Yes, as he said, at this point, oral sex was neither unusual nor something to be distressed about. He had done it until he was practically worn out. Perhaps, in total, he had performed oral sex more often than he had been penetrated. When he was so busy he couldn’t spare even a few tens of minutes, Ilay would drag Jeong Taeui over, put his penis in his mouth, and then flip through documents.

Now, after enduring such things countless times, swallowing his tears, he had, inevitably, grown accustomed to it.

But it was different back then. Those were truly fresh and wholesome days.

Jeong Taeui clutched his head in anguish, then finally came to his senses when Ilay offered him a beer from the small refrigerator on the bottom shelf of the bookshelf.

He tore open the top and chugged it down, feeling a little settled. Jeong Taeui sighed and looked at the ceiling.

“That Moro guy is still obsessed with guns.”

Moro, who had been slumped over his sports bag for a long time, suddenly stood up, muttering, “Oh, wouldn’t want my darlings to get crushed and broken,” and quickly walked towards the guest room. Jeong Taeui, speaking to his back, made a very valid point: “If they could get broken just by being pressed like that, then they wouldn’t be guns.” But Moro didn’t seem to hear him.

He even entered the room and immediately emptied the contents of his sports bag onto the bed, and Jeong Taeui was speechless as several guns came tumbling out.

How on earth did he get so many guns past airport security? It’s all useless, Jeong Taeui thought, sighing as he asked, “So you still like guns, even after what happened?”

“What’s wrong with guns?!”

It was a simple answer, yet it vividly showed Moro’s mindset. Yes. Guns are innocent. It’s people who commit sins. With those guns.

Jeong Taeui clicked his tongue bitterly, watching Moro meticulously pick up and inspect each gun, then turned to leave.

As he was just stepping away from the doorway, he thought he heard Moro muttering behind him, a little gloomily.

“Still, after that, every time I remember the Colt .45, my heart aches so much I can’t bear to carry it around…”

It’s not your heart that aches every time you remember, it’s somewhere else, Jeong Taeui thought, but at that very moment, recalling his own heavy and languid lower back from the previous night’s sex, he kept his mouth shut.

“If it’s this dissatisfying… would it have been a more satisfying gift to just deliver him as a corpse?”

Ilay, in front of Jeong Taeui, who was lost in thought, also drank beer and flicked the photo back and forth. Jeong Taeui’s face hardened into a bizarre expression, and he waved his hand. When this man said something, it didn’t sound like a joke. (And it probably wasn’t a joke.)

“Still… thanks to that, he can’t carry the .45 Colt anymore, so at least one model of that gun is fixed. That obsession… To cure that guy’s gun obsession, wouldn’t it be enough to collect all the different models of guns and put them in and out of him once?”

Jeong Taeui mumbled to himself, finishing the last few sips of his beer, then nodded, “Yes, that’s a good idea,” but the next moment, he shook his head again.

He didn’t have enough closeness with that guy to go to such lengths to cure his obsession, and more importantly, who would he even ask to do such a thing? He would absolutely, under no circumstances, do it himself.

“Well, I don’t think so.”

But next to Jeong Taeui, Ilay said casually. Jeong Taeui lifted his gaze from the beer can and glanced at him. Ilay lightly shook his beer can and tilted his head. Swish, the sound indicated it was about half full. When Jeong Taeui extended his hand, Ilay immediately understood and handed over the can he was holding. He chuckled, watching Jeong Taeui drink the beer with a bright face like a child who had received a toy.

“I heard from Instructor Jeong Changin recently, that Tou, who shared a room with Moro. He said Moro was acting strange. Moro, with a bright face, would meticulously clean each gun, but when it came to cleaning the Colt .45, he would get depressed. But even with a depressed face, he would clean the .45 most diligently.”

“Huh…?”

“He said that when he was cleaning the tip of the barrel, there was even a hint of obsession, and Tou was terrified.”

Isn’t he just cleaning it in advance for when it’s going to be used again? Ilay added casually.

But Jeong Taeui frowned severely and let his hand holding the beer can drop. Damn it. This is going to ruin the taste of my beer too. No, what did the beer do wrong? I still have to drink it.

Ilay watched Jeong Taeui silently gulping down his beer, then suddenly, as if some thought struck him, he looked at him with subtle eyes and mumbled.

“A guy like him won’t easily shake off that obsession with guns. It’s already an addiction. Just like you can’t live without beer.”

“Huh? …Why are you talking about me like I’m an alcoholic? I just have one or two cans sometimes to feel refreshed.”

Jeong Taeui frowned and threw the can in his hand at Ilay. Ilay easily caught it, then chuckled, seeing that the 1000ml can, which had been half full, was now completely empty.

“Cut down a bit. Otherwise, I’ll make a memory for you that’ll make you so depressed every time you see beer, you’ll never want to drink it again.”

His slow words, spoken with a placid smile, carried a hint of both jest and seriousness. Jeong Taeui subtly frowned.

“What’s that? Are you going to fill the garden pool with beer and dunk me in it all day?”

Jeong Taeui imagined the scenario, considering this man’s personality, which would indeed be capable of such a thing if he were serious. “Gable, who sometimes visits, would be very sad if he saw that,” he added, though he himself thought it wouldn’t be so bad. Swimming in beer all day, and if he accidentally gulped some, it would still taste like refreshing beer. …It would go flat, so it might not taste great, but still.

However, Ilay unbuckled his belt and shook his head. As he unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper with a zzzip, his voice, saying “No, it’s not that,” sounded strangely ominous. Jeong Taeui suddenly realized the signal his gestures were sending and flinched, shrinking back.

“You have a lot of work left, don’t you? Where do you have time to play?”

“I’ll be done in an hour or two. Then I’ll be free for about a week. And, time with you is more important than work.”

“Uh… ummm, I appreciate that greatly… but I’m a bit sleepy…”

“Right. Then shall I wake you up first? Let’s continue the story from before. To make you despise beer, given your personality, it’s simple. There’s no need to waste a large amount of beer to fill a pool. Directly into your body—by using a clamp to widen the opening, and pouring beer directly into your rectum while you watch intently.”

Jeong Taeui closed his mouth. His eyes widened as much as his mouth had closed. He was right. His sleepiness was completely gone.

With this kind of talk, it was impossible to tell where the joke ended and the truth began, so Jeong Taeui, imagining the situation, shuddered and cringed.

Rigidly stiff, Jeong Taeui received Ilay’s steady gaze, while Ilay laughed cheerfully, parting his unzipped pants and underwear, and taking out the flesh contained within. The still unerect, heavily dangling object slowly began to raise its head just by being stroked a couple of times with his hand, staring directly at Jeong Taeui.

“Or, I could pour something that resembles beer into your mouth instead of beer.”

“What?”

In front of Jeong Taeui, who asked back in bewilderment, Ilay chuckled and silently, as if to show off, shook his penis two or three times. Jeong Taeui, his face blank, alternated his gaze between the penis and Ilay’s subtle expression, then slowly his face hardened. So much so that his complexion turned pale blue.

“Yah!!!”

Ilay burst into laughter, seeing Jeong Taeui’s pale face as he shrieked and quickly moved to the opposite side of the bed. He laughed heartily for a while, then casually waved his hand.

“No, it’s a joke. I have no intention of making you hold a grudge against me like that. This is just a hypothetical. If you get too addicted to beer.”

“…”

Jeong Taeui immediately decided he needed to cut down on beer. He felt like he would be completely incapacitated if something like that happened to him. Even now, being somewhat accustomed to sex with that man, feeling pleasure and moving his hips even when that terribly huge thing pushed in, he still considered his life to be a complete mess.

Jeong Taeui became as gloomy as Moro cleaning his Colt .45.

However, he didn’t have time to dwell in gloom.

“But as you said, it’s better to finish work quickly, so shall we keep it simple now? I’ll finish all my work before going to bed, and from tomorrow, I’ll take my time and put effort into things in bed, okay?”

“No, no, you don’t need to put in effort. Just do it as usual.”

Even ‘as usual’ is enough to kill me trying to keep up with your monster-like stamina, Jeong Taeui muttered glumly, still, as he moved to sit in front of Ilay. From years of experience, he knew well that refusing wouldn’t work, so it was better to get it over with quickly. And oral sex, while immediately breath-takingly difficult, was easier on his body afterward than receiving it from below.

Jeong Taeui sat between his legs. And he grasped the base of the half-erect penis. Even seeing it almost every day, he always thought it was disgustingly large, and he lightly kissed its tip. At that moment, it twitched, and the object rose a little higher.

Ilay’s hand touched Jeong Taeui’s cheek as Jeong Taeui traced from the tip to the base with his tongue. That hand, slowly caressing his jaw to his cheek, then his earlobe, was laced with lust. Another hand stroked his neck to his shoulder, then plunged under his clothes and went directly to Jeong Taeui’s chest. It roughly scraped and painfully tugged at his nipple with its fingernails. “Ah,” Jeong Taeui swallowed a low groan and flinched. Then his face burned hot.

“It’s worth sucking on it diligently every day. It gets pointy right away.”

Ilay chuckled softly and whispered from above his head.

Jeong Taeui pretended not to hear, lowering his burning face and blindly burrowing into Ilay’s crotch. But he couldn’t help but flinch and squirm whenever Ilay playfully caressed his nipple or occasionally twisted it.

“Jeong Taei.”

Suddenly, he called his name. A clear desire began to tinge his breath. Jeong Taeui flinched, licking the desire that had already grown too voluminous to even take in his mouth.

“Do you know how deadly seductive your face is right now?”

A whispering voice permeated his ears.

Oh. Damn it.

It was the moment Jeong Taeui briefly cursed to himself. He felt his body float, and then the mattress’s rebound was felt behind his back. And Ilay, lightly laying him down on the bed, climbed on top.

“Work can wait after all. After a nap.”

Ilay, sitting on Jeong Taeui’s body, smiled slightly and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Come to think of it, he’s a bit pitiful.

Moro had, in his own way, suffered a mental trauma.

Although he still meticulously cherishes and loves his guns, there’s no doubt he experienced pain from that beloved gun. Considering his abnormal affection for guns, a considerable amount of shocking pain must have remained in his heart. (Of course, with a .45 caliber thickness, it would have left very shocking pain in his body too.)

Jeong Taeui didn’t necessarily think it was his fault—frankly, why would it be his fault?—but as an old colleague, he did feel a modicum of affection, so seeing Moro made him feel a bit bitter. Perhaps it was his imagination, but there seemed to be a hint of melancholy in the way he stroked the outline of the gun protruding from his sports bag.

“Moro.”

After breakfast, Moro, who was planning to leave with Kyle for his company to see the prototype currently under development and then head straight to his hometown, was already leaving the entrance, his sports bag slung over his shoulder, just as when he arrived, all his luggage packed.

Kyle, who was about to leave with him, received a phone call just before exiting the room and gestured to Moro to go ahead and get in the car.

James was already in the passenger seat of Kyle’s car, which was waiting inside the gate, so Moro, who had gotten into the back seat, saw Jeong Taeui tap on the window and opened it with a displeased expression.

“What is it?”

“Still, who knows when we’ll see each other again? Even for an enemy, I should say goodbye.”

“I won’t eat any of your cakes. What if Rick comes running and makes a fuss because I ate your cake?!”

Moro, who was shouting loudly, suddenly saw something and quickly shut his mouth. Following his gaze, Ilay was coming out of the entrance wearing only training pants. He was casually sporting a bright red bruise on his shoulder—Jeong Taeui had, in a fit of exasperation from being too tired from their constant activity the previous night, bitten him—and was scratching his neck as if still half-asleep.

Of course, he was never the type to come out to see someone off, so he was probably looking around to see where Jeong Taeui was, since he wasn’t visible inside the house.

Behind Ilay, Kyle emerged, having finished his call. Kyle, who walked over with a short, Rita-like lecture about dressing properly even at home, got into the car with an apology for making them wait.

Vroom, the sound of the car starting to move was heard.

Jeong Taeui hesitated for a moment, then thought, Still, even for someone I dislike, I should offer some comfort, and conveyed it to Moro.

“Well, though it’s unlikely, don’t get too bad memories about guns. A .45 caliber, just one time… just once, just let it go and forget about it. It’s not like it’s going to wear out.”

After speaking, he wondered if his words might have sounded sarcastic rather than comforting, but perhaps from Jeong Taeui’s expression or voice, Moro understood that his words were meant as comfort.

Moro, who had been silent for a moment, leaned his face out of the car window as the gate opened and the car slowly began to move. In a rare warm and serious voice, with a clear smile on his face, he answered Jeong Taeui distinctly.

“So that’s why you swallow something much thicker than a .45 caliber, up and down, every night. I saw it clearly yesterday as I walked by. Make sure to close the door properly next time. Bye-bye.”

“…—!!”

Jeong Taeui’s face solidified.

Leaving Jeong Taeui frozen like a statue, unable to move, the car drove out of the gate. As the gate closed again, Ilay approached Jeong Taeui, who was still standing frozen, motionless.

“Ah-ha… so that was him. I thought I heard someone pass by in the hallway, but I wondered who it was.”

“…Wasn’t the door closed yesterday, to my room…?”

“You left it open a good two palms’ width when you came in. You probably did it so you could bolt at any time, but you don’t remember, do you?”

Jeong Taeui was silent for a moment. He was right. To be able to bolt quickly if need be, he always left the door to his room slightly ajar when he went in.

“But, the door was definitely closed when I came out of the room this morning?!”

“It seems Moro was considerate of you, in his own way. He gently closed the door as he passed by.”

Jeong Taeui looked at him blankly. Then he mumbled as if in a daze.

“You knew…?”

“What.”

Ilay shrugged and replied briefly.

The next moment, Jeong Taeui grabbed his shoulders and shook him wildly, shouting, “Then you should have said something, said something!!”

“What difference would it make if I said something? Besides, that guy will visit this house once every few years anyway, so it’s convenient to know.”

Saying it nonchalantly, Ilay casually wondered if he should go for a swim in the pool, and Jeong Taeui watched his retreating back blankly, then slumped onto the ground.

Jeong Taeui remained huddled there, motionless and utterly gloomy, until much later, when Rita passed by and nagged him, “You shouldn’t sit on the floor like that.”

Fin.