Yeah, back then Ilay had a rather strange look on his face. It seemed he hadn’t expected Jeong Tae-ui to suddenly say he’d come with him. Tilting his head to the side, he stared at Jeong Tae-ui for a while, but apparently couldn’t guess the reason, because he asked curtly, “Why.”

“I have business with Morre.”

When Jeong Tae-ui spoke fiercely and seriously, only then did Ilay seem to understand. “Ah,” he said, nodding a couple of times before he spoke with finality.

“No. You’re already no different from an outsider to UNHRDO. You know that. UNHRDO doesn’t allow entry to outsiders without specific reasons.”

“I’m just gonna take a quick look at that bastard Morre and come out right away. I’m not doing anything else.”

The moment he brought it up, he felt his blood boiling again, and he grabbed Ilay’s collar in a burst of anger. Ilay glanced down at the hand and coldly brushed it off.

“Rules are rules.”

Jeong Tae-ui wanted to grab that icy mouth spouting those words and shake it hard. Since when the hell have you been such a stickler for rules?

As Jeong Tae-ui glared fiercely at him, Ilay brushed off the wrinkled collar with his fingers and added:

“Besides, if you think about it, I was only able to find out your whereabouts thanks to that guy.”

Yeah, that was exactly what Jeong Tae-ui held a grudge over. A grudge so massive he could cut Morre into pieces and still not feel satisfied. And yet, obviously, it wasn’t a grudge to Ilay at all.

Because of that bastard, I ended up getting caught by you again! ——— Of course, it wasn’t something he could scream at Ilay directly, so Jeong Tae-ui swallowed the fury and fumed silently when Ilay, on his way out of the room, suddenly slowed his steps and tilted his head, as if a thought had just occurred to him. He fell briefly into thought, then muttered almost to himself.

“But… if it weren’t for that prototype, that guy probably wouldn’t have said a word to me even if he knew where you were. Even before you got kidnapped, he contacted the branch regularly, but never once brought that up.”

Jeong Tae-ui clicked his tongue in irritation. Right, if not for that crazed obsession with firearms, Morre probably wouldn’t have revealed his location to Ilay. No matter how bad their relationship had been, he wasn’t that kind of person. It wasn’t like he’d snitched on purpose just to screw Tae-ui over.

And yet.

The result was this situation.

That bastard, Jeong Tae-ui muttered bitterly, and Ilay glanced back at him. He stared silently at the sullenly puffed-up face, then suddenly reached out a hand.

A white, smooth hand approached. Jeong Tae-ui instinctively flinched and stepped back. It wasn’t something he did consciously or with thought—it was a reflex. After being by Ilay’s side for so long, he’d seen that white hand suddenly turn blood-red too many times. Telling himself not to tense up was asking too much.

The moment he stepped half a pace back, Jeong Tae-ui regretted it. He didn’t even need to look at Ilay’s faintly frowning face to know he’d screwed up.

But wouldn’t you have done the same? It wasn’t on purpose. It was just raw survival instinct reacting. No, if it were you, instead of stepping back, you’d have either struck back or chopped that hand right off.

As he silently poured out these unheard excuses, Jeong Tae-ui glanced awkwardly at Ilay.

Ilay slowly flipped over the halted hand. He stared at his palm, then curled his fingers in from the pinky, loosely forming a fist. It was the kind of fist perfect for beating someone to a pulp.

“No, I didn’t mean anything. I just… damn it, if someone like you sticks out your hand, who the hell would gladly offer up their neck!”

Jeong Tae-ui began mumbling an excuse, but when he met those cold, narrow eyes, he blurted it out angrily. Ilay looked conflicted for a moment. Most likely, he was debating whether to throw the punch or not.

Maybe Jeong Tae-ui was right—Ilay stared at the fist for a few seconds longer with regret before slowly unclenching it. Then, with that same hand, he reached back out toward Jeong Tae-ui. This time, Tae-ui did flinch slightly, but didn’t step away. He just tilted his head back a bit and looked down at the hand.

“…What.”

Staring at the palm held right up to his throat, Jeong Tae-ui muttered, and Ilay replied flatly:

“Stick out your neck.”

“…”

It felt like he’d misspoken. Did he really mean to slit his throat?

Jeong Tae-ui stared at that hand in silence. That white, smooth hand looked so ominous—no, it wasn’t the first time. Even if he was familiar with ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) it, the menace hadn’t diminished. Still, he didn’t think Ilay would pull the hand back unless he did something. Jeong Tae-ui clicked his tongue. Then, as if saying go ahead and strangle me, he gave up and leaned forward. His throat touched the fingertips.

And at that moment.

That very hand, more than capable of snapping his windpipe, grabbed his neck. Ilay’s strong fingers pressed just below his carotid artery, cutting off his breath. As Jeong Tae-ui grimaced and exhaled a ragged breath, Ilay pulled him forward without hesitation, grabbing his jaw with the other hand and yanking downward. That unflinching grip made it clear just how foul his mood was.

Jeong Tae-ui swallowed hard. Ilay’s mouth covered his own, blocking even the tiniest breath. As if not caring whether he suffocated or not, Ilay pushed his tongue deep into Tae-ui’s mouth, sucking in the tongue trying to escape and biting down hard. A short cry escaped, but Ilay swallowed that too.

The hand that had been gripping his jaw slipped downward, stroking along his back before reaching Tae-ui’s ass. Grabbing roughly like he was about to tear it apart, Ilay squeezed it several times. Jeong Tae-ui reflexively tried to pull away, but that only pressed his body closer against Ilay’s. Ilay clutched his ass again, pulling him into his groin, and rubbed slowly against him once. Only when he confirmed that Tae-ui had realized his intent did he finally let go. Both hands fell away like nothing had happened.

Jeong Tae-ui stepped back a few paces, coughing repeatedly. As he wiped his mouth and tried to steady his breathing, he glared fiercely at Ilay.

But Ilay wasn’t even looking at him. He was checking the time. They couldn’t afford to waste time if they wanted to catch the last ship departing from Hong Kong to the UNHRDO Asia Branch.

Suddenly alert, Jeong Tae-ui also checked the time. He instinctively realized that the slight bulge forming at the front of Ilay’s pants was very tightly connected to the amount of time left.

As Ilay clicked his tongue in annoyance, Jeong Tae-ui confirmed the time and felt his pounding heart settle in relief. He lightly patted his chest.

“…Go. I mean, I’d like to come with you, but rules are rules.”

Forget Morre. He needed to worry about saving himself first. He wasn’t the type to throw away his body just for revenge. Thank God. If they’d had just five more minutes, this guy would’ve insisted on fucking before he left.

Hurry up and go, hurry up and leave.

Even as he mentally scattered salt, Jeong Tae-ui stared blankly at this incomprehensible man.

Not that Ilay had only one incomprehensible trait, but this was definitely one of them. Sometimes—mostly in moments like this—Ilay would narrow those cold, snake-like eyes and look at Tae-ui like he wanted to devour him. Usually when he was aroused. Jeong Tae-ui could never understand that.

Choosing half-forced sex as a way to humiliate the person you hold a grudge against was already an unappealing concept—but honestly, by this point, Jeong Tae-ui didn’t even feel deeply humiliated anymore. Still, that method meant you also had to have sex with someone you didn’t want. What the hell’s so good about that? You like that?

Jeong Tae-ui genuinely wanted to ask. But if he did, knowing his luck, Ilay would probably say something like, “Ah, good point. Then I’ll have someone else rape you instead.” That would be a disaster.

As Jeong Tae-ui jerked his chin toward the door and said, “You’re gonna be late. Just go,” trying to sound concerned, Ilay raised an eyebrow. The white hand that had been sliding slowly over his bulging groin suddenly stopped.

“Beaming with joy, are we. Is it that satisfying to know I’m short on time?”

His slow murmur held a faint hint of a smile. Damn it. Whenever this bastard smiled, it gave Jeong Tae-ui chills down his spine.

And right on cue, Ilay undid his belt. Click. The metallic sound echoed sharply in the room. As Jeong Tae-ui heard the zipper come down, he glanced at the clock again. Unsurprisingly, time was still tight. It was only getting tighter. There was no way they had time to roll around on a bed.

“Hey, you have to return to the branch today—”

“Yeah. I’ll go soon. ——Oh right, you said you had business with Morre, didn’t you? I’ll take care of it for you. I’ll bring back a souvenir. So just wait here and get some rest for a few days. You won’t get to rest after that anyway.”

“Sure, whatever, but you don’t have tim—”

“Suck it.”

As he casually shook the half-erect thing poking out of his fly, Ilay spoke nonchalantly. Jeong Tae-ui was at a loss for words.

“No time, so let’s just make it quick. Open your mouth.”

“Hey, you bastard, are you seriously—”

“The more rushed I get, the more impatient I become. I might end up forcing it. So let’s finish this nicely while I still have the time for a blowjob.”

Like saying he had just enough time to drink a glass of water before heading out, Ilay approached, and Jeong Tae-ui stared at him in horror. When he reached out to push Tae-ui’s shoulders down, Tae-ui lashed out, smacking the hand away and yelling.

“What do you mean both of us enjoy it! It’s only you!”

“Huh?”

Ilay raised an eyebrow and let out a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah, now that you mention it, I guess that’s true. Alright, next time I’ll pay you back with interest. For now, we’re out of time, so be understanding. Open your mouth. …If you even pretend to bite, I’ll break your jaw.”

“Wait, I don’t need interest or anything—hey, wait, hey, wa—!”

Jeong Tae-ui remembered exactly what his voice sounded like back then. Starting in panic, then descending into a mix of whimpers and curses.

“That kind of thing needs to be touched and warmed up properly to bring out its full worth. Even if it doesn’t fit at first, the more often you use it, the more it molds to you.”

“What the hell fits, my throat nearly ripped open!”

Jeong Tae-ui shouted before he even realized it—and then winced when he saw the broker blink in surprise, mouth closed in shock.

“No, sorry… I was just thinking about something else. Things have been a little… hectic lately.”

He babbled to cover it up. Rubbing the back of his neck without thinking, he felt the heat burning all the way to his earlobes and swore inwardly.

Memories were like that—the more you tried to erase them, the more they swarmed back. Jeong Tae-ui lowered his head, covering his mouth. He didn’t need a mirror to know what his face looked like. It had to be completely flushed, probably even scrunched into a pathetic grimace.

His mouth ached. Maybe it was just in his head, but he found himself rubbing around his jaw.

Damn it.

That moment when a huge piece of flesh shoved straight down his throat, he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t a metaphor—he literally couldn’t breathe. The sensation of something jabbing his uvula made him gag reflexively, but he couldn’t even retch properly. He just gagged and thrashed.

He wanted to bite down. Hell, if he could’ve, he would’ve done it without thinking of the consequences.

But somehow—whether Ilay sensed it or just expected it—his hand tightened around Jeong Tae-ui’s mouth. Tae-ui screamed silently, mouth completely blocked. The grip was so forceful he thought his lower jaw would separate from the upper.

Just remembering that moment made him shudder.

Damn it. He’d been working hard to forget, and now it was all back again.

Jeong Tae-ui sat still for a while, then suddenly thought of the taste, the smell, even the warmth still lingering in his mouth and panicked, violently shaking his head. Then he glanced up, eyes sharp, at the broker. The broker, who had been watching with a puzzled expression, flinched slightly when their eyes met.

“You don’t look so good today… You alright?”

“No, I’m fine. More importantly, how’s business lately? I heard crackdowns have been intense—must be tough.”

Jeong Tae-ui changed the subject. It seemed much better to focus on something—anything—else.

“Crackdowns? Please. They only catch bottom feeders. If cops showed up right now, I wouldn’t even blink.”

The broker followed along without resistance. Waving his hand confidently, he spoke, and Jeong Tae-ui nodded beside him.

He was the boastful type, so his words had to be taken with a grain of salt—but considering he kept using the same location for risky meetings, he must’ve had something to rely on. Well, without that kind of confidence, you couldn’t survive in this line of work to begin with.

A server brought over tea. Jeong Tae-ui waved to him to bring it to their table.

He glanced at the cup already in front of the broker, then picked up his own.

The moment he fell silent, the conversation evaporated. The scattered threads of their talk hovered in the air. It wasn’t all that comfortable being alone with someone unless you were close enough to blabber about anything without awkwardness.

Still, Jeong Tae-ui wasn’t the type to worry about that much. Whatever, he thought, sipping his tea slowly. But maybe the silence got to the other guy—because it was the broker who glanced at his watch and muttered:

“Should be about time soon…”