Chapter Text
By the time Jeonghan left the hotel, the sidewalk was empty. This side of Seoul was not packed anyway, and this hotel in particular was built on a discreet corner, tucked away from curious and judging eyes.
It was cold, and the wind blew softly against his skin. Jeonghan wrapped his arms around his body, since his jacket and the sheer blouse underneath it did nothing to protect him from the cold. Jeonghan wished he accepted the whiskey, at least it would warm his body.
Jeonghan looked at his watch. Brand new, a gift from his client yesterday. It was way past midnight, so he might’ve need to walk more before he could find a taxi. His black heels clacked against the pavement in steady rhythm. In the other side of the road, a man whistled at him, then a bunch of laughter followed. Jeonghan did not turn his head to look at them. His chin remained raised, his eyes were looking straight.
He had done this hundreds of times. He knew what he should do.
By the time he found a taxi, his feet were starting to hurt. The driver was a middle-aged man, balding on the back of his head and obviously just sprayed a ton of cologne, though it did nothing to mask the smell of cigarette.
Beggar can’t be chooser. Jeonghan would not walk another step and met another bunch of men on the other side of the road. He was lucky that those men just wanted to catcall him and didn’t actually cross the road to approach him. All he wanted to do was scrub his body clean and go to sleep, he didn’t care if he had to inhale the smell of smoke mixed with cheap cologne and car air freshener all the way to his house.
When they finally arrived, Jeonghan bowed at the driver and made sure that he left a little bit of tip. He walked up the stairs to his apartment in slow steps, too tired and too dizzy, from alcohol and everything else.
The apartment was quiet, as it always was. The steady hum of the air-conditioner was comforting as Jeonghan took off all his clothes on the way to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and stood under the water for a while, just staring as the tiled wall.
Sometimes, Jeonghan wished he wasn’t so lonely.
Jeonghan started to rub his skin until it was red, but not enough to leave a scratch. He lathered his favorite shampoo with extra care, making sure he massaged it thoroughly. At night like these, sticking to his shower routine could be the only thing that keep him together.
Jeonghan sat in front of the mirror for another thirty minutes, applying his skincare and drying his hair. By the time Jeonghan finished, it was way past three. So Jeonghan turned off the light, slipped under the cover, and closed his eyes.
When he finally fell asleep, Jeonghan dreamed of his mother’s voice.
When morning came, the first thing Jeonghan heard was the loud knock of his front door.
He woke up with a jolt, immediately looked at the clock like a kid that knew he would be late for school. But Jeonghan had finished high school ten years ago, so there was no reason for anyone to try to wake him up at seven in the morning.
But the knocking—it was more of a banging than a knock—continued, and Jeonghan had a hunch that whoever was behind that door would soon try to kick his door open if he didn’t answer. So, he grabbed a pair of shorts and a hoodie to cover the loose tank he went to sleep with and walked out of his bedroom.
Jeonghan squinted at the small monitor beside his door. The screen showed the son of the building owner, knocking impatiently. Jeonghan rarely met him face to face, his wife was the one who often came to collect rent. But Jeonghan knew he wasn’t a good man, since his wife often came with a blooming bruise hidden under her cardigan.
Jeonghan had seen him in passing too, at the casino on the outskirt of Seoul, with a woman no older than eighteen on his lap. But Jeonghan was also sitting on the lap of a man twice his age, so he wasn’t going to let his presence be known.
And this man on his doorstep meant nothing but bad luck.
He sighed loudly before opening the door.
“Good morning, Jeonghan-ssi,” he greeted politely, though his smile obviously looked insincere. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”
Jeonghan tried to ignore how he could feel his eyes trailing the skin that wasn’t covered with his short. “It’s okay,” he answered, voice still hoarse from the lack of hydration. “Can I help you, Sir?”
“Ah, yes, Jeonghan-ssi, we had a little bit of issue,” he said as he rubbed his hands together, and Jeonghan thought he looked like a fly who just found a piece of rotten food. “My Dad just got admitted into the hospital for his liver, and we just received the call that he might need an urgent surgery,” he continued. “So, I was wondering, is it possible to collect your rent now?”
The rent wasn’t due for another two weeks. Jeonghan wanted to say no and slam the door in front of his face.
But he had done that before. A few months ago, when he just got home at 11 P.M, absolutely hammered and can’t walk straight. The man was standing in front of his apartment, waiting for him, then asked him for the money even though it was clear that Jeonghan can’t comprehend a single word he said. The next morning, he tried again, but Jeonghan was still hungover, so he said no again. For the next three days, he showed up in front of Jeonghan’s door and sheepishly asked for the money. On the fourth day, Jeonghan gave up, and handed him the money. The following week Jeonghan accidentally heard the gossiping old women at the convenience store that he used the money for gambling, but it wasn’t any of Jeonghan’s problem.
And frankly, Jeonghan didn’t care whether his father was in the hospital, or he wanted to spend the money on a slot machine, all he knew was he didn’t want to see this man for another three months.
Jeonghan didn’t invite him in, but he keep the door slightly ajar as he grabbed his phone on the nightstand. When he arrived to the front door again, he showed his screen to him.
“I’ve sent the money,” he said. “I’m sending the proof to your dad’s number now,” he continued, typing away on his phone.
The man beamed at that. “Ah, thank you, Jeonghan-ssi,” he said, bowing lightly as he took one step back toward the stairs. “Have a nice day!”
Jeonghan didn’t even wait for him to walk down the stairs to close his door and locked it.
He kicked his new pair of Jimmy Choo closer to the shoe rack as he walked to the kitchen. He was sleepy, but there was no way he could sleep again with this headache. So Jeonghan took a big glass of water before starting to make coffee. He took the kimchi out of the fridge as he waited for the water to boil. There was no window in his apartment other than the one in his bedroom, and even that was facing the parking lot, so Jeonghan just stared at the wall as he made his breakfast.
He scrolled through his message as he ate—just egg and kimchi over rice, there was nothing in his fridge—and comparing the offer between potential clients. He opened the text from his regular firsts, checking if the time and date worked out for him.
One text caught his attention. Unfamiliar number, but the price he offered was above average. Are you free tonight? He typed underneath all those zeroes.
Jeonghan was an six hundred thousand won poorer than he was one hour ago, and there was this really cute purse from some indie designer that Jeonghan had been eyeing, and he was sure he won’t have a good night sleep until he could get his hand on it. For that amount of money, of course Jeonghan’s schedule would be wiped clean.
He replied the task with his spoon still in his mouth.
Metro Hotel, 8:00. Dress prettily, the response came immediately. Then the notification that half of the money he promised had been transferred to his account showed up on the top of Jeonghan’s phone.
Jeonghan scoffed as he put his dirty dishes on the sink.
He didn’t care if this man was twice his age or had a long beard or anything, he would show up in the best clothes he owned.
This wasn’t the first time Jeonghan stepped a foot in Metro Hotel. He had been here way too many times, the security might as well know his name. He walked towards the receptionist with practiced confidence. Jeonghan might’ve never book a room in this place himself, but this was his territory.
“Hello,” he greeted the receptionist without a smile. Nobody really smiled around here aside from the employees. “I’m here for Choi Hyuk,” he said, sliding his ID on the marble surface towards the receptionist. “My name’s Haneul.” The name written on his ID was surely not that, but that was the name his clients knew.
The woman smiled as she accepted the ID and typing away in her computer, then quickly picked up the phone to call the room. She was new, Jeonghan noticed. She wasn't behind the desk when Jeonghan came here for some staff from the Prime Minister office two weeks ago.
A few minutes passed, then she put the phone down and handed the ID back to him. “Mr. Choi had been expecting you, Mr. Yoon. My partner will escort you. Have a nice evening.”
Jeonghan nodded once as he put his ID back in his tiny purse. The bellboy was already standing beside him, bowing before gesturing towards the elevator.
The elevator moved smoothly. Jeonghan stared back at his reflection on the elevator’s door. He wore a white satin low-cut blouse that made his shoulders look broader—the ribbon tied loosely around the neckline gave some impression of innocence despite half of his chest was showing—and straight black pants that hugged the curve of his waist perfectly. The only demand was to dress prettily, but Jeonghan knew he could show up in a rice sack and still following instructions.
His black kitten heels didn’t make a sound when he stepped out of the elevator, the carpeted hallway dampen all the noise. The elevator door closed, and Jeonghan was left alone.
But he knew where the room was. Jeonghan had been here enough to find a room without help. Not even a minute later, he knocked on the door and smiled towards the peephole.
The door opened soon after.
“Haneul,” the man greeted.
“Mr. Choi,” Jeonghan greeted back, voice dripping with honey.
The man smirked. “Call me Hyuk,” he said. “Come in.”
Apparently, Choi Hyuk didn’t look twice his age, nor did he have a long beard. He looked normal—handsome, even. He was wearing a perfectly ironed navy cotton shirt with half of the buttons undone, and Jeonghan could clearly see the defined muscles under it. His hair, dark and long, styled into a slick back, showing his equally dark eyebrows.
Jeonghan had many clients before, but it wasn’t often he got total eye candy like these. Men with face like that usually didn’t have to book prostitutes like him, since it would be easier and cheaper to just pick someone up from the bar. So when a cute boy booked his service, Jeonghan always expected something was wrong about him. Bad personality, weird kink, or just way too insecure about his skill in bed.
“Wine?” Hyuk offered.
Jeonghan smiled as he placed his purse on the glass table. “Sure.” There was no way in hell he would decline expensive wines.
When Hyuk disappeared to grab the wine, Jeonghan allowed himself to look around. It was one of those expensive hotel suites that had separate living room and dining area. There were papers scattered on the living room table, along with a laptop and a stack of thick envelopes. It seemed like Hyuk had been here for a while, judging by how the place looked lived in. Jeonghan was so used with pristine hotel room that was booked thirty minutes prior, where the men usually left him for the night and he got to order expensive breakfast on their card.
Hyuk came back soon after with a bottle of wine and two tall glasses. He poured one for Jeonghan before pouring for himself. Their glasses clinked sharply in the quiet room.
The wine was good, acidic and sweet exactly the right amount. The taste lingered even after Jeonghan pulled the glass away from his lips—he could feel Hyuk’s eyes following the sheer red lip oil mark he left on the rim.
“Okay,” Hyuk took a seat beside Jeonghan on the sofa. “How would you like to do this?”
Jeonghan noticed the way Hyuk’s hand wasted no time landing on his thigh. “I’d like to do it the way you’d like to,” Jeonghan answered. Men loved it when he acted like he was fully on their mercy. “All within my safety policy, of course. You’ve read my terms and conditions, right?”
Hyuk laughed at that. “Yes, actually. I never had any sex worker sending me a PDF of their FAQ before, so I was intrigued to read it.”
Jeonghan smiled. “Just wanted to make sure that both of us would be safe,” he said, then he placed the glass on the coffee table before crawling to sit on Hyuk’s thighs. His large palms immediately rested on the small of his back and Jeonghan felt a shiver run down his spine. “So, tell me, how would you like to do this?” His fingers moved to undo the two top buttons of Hyuk’s white button up.
Hyuk grinned, pleased with Jeonghan’s action. “Impatient, are we?”
“Just wanted to see what’s under this fabric,” Jeonghan said, making sure his voice dropped an octave lower. “I can see your bicep bulging when you handed me the wine.”
He did not receive an answer, but Hyuk’s hand quickly moved to his nape and pulled him to a kiss.
Hyuk kissed exactly the way he looked; all rough and messy. Jeonghan didn’t remember the last time he had a client who could kiss this good. He smiled between the kisses. This would be a great night.
Jeonghan also didn’t remember the last time he had a client who could pick him up and tossed him on the bed easily. Maybe tonight he didn’t need to fake a moan.
Hyuk didn’t stop kissing him even after he threw Jeonghan on the bed like he was a ragdoll. Jeonghan felt Hyuk’s hand undoing the neatly tied ribbon on his blouse, and he felt just a little bit lightheaded.
Which was why he didn’t hear the loud click on the window, followed by a dull thud of a pair of boots against the carpet.
The next thing he knew, Hyuk was yanked away from him.
Jeonghan gasped as he opened his eyes. He looked to the other side of the bed and felt his knees weaken.
A man in full black attire was head-locking Hyuk from behind, the other hand was covering his mouth. Jeonghan watched as Hyuk tried to break away from him only to have a knife pressed against his neck. Hyuk stopped moving altogether then, his muffled protest slowly died down.
He stared at Jeonghan, his eyes were strangely calm despite the gloved hand pressing a knife right under his pulsating vein. Jeonghan’s eyes then drifted to the man behind him, and he caught his eyes, sharp and dark under the shadow of his black cap. Jeonghan could see the smile he had under that mask.
Jeonghan felt a breeze against his bare skin, when he turned to the direction of the wind, he saw the window was opened.
Then he heard a crash.
Hyuk was somehow successfully manhandled the man, running backward to slam the man against the wide full body mirror in front of the bed, earning a groan from him. Then he threw him on the ground, where the man grabbed him by the ankle and switched their position.
Everything happened so fast. Jeonghan couldn’t even see how the sharp knife got impaled deep right in the middle of Hyuk’s torso.
Then the blood seeped through Hyuk’s shirt—the bright red darkening the navy shirt.
That was what snapped Jeonghan out of his shock.
Run. Run. Run run run run run—
The man didn’t look at him when Jeonghan jumped out of the bed, too busy smashing the dressing table’s wooden chair against Hyuk’s skull, knocking him unconscious.
The broken glass crunched under Jeonghan’s bare feet, but he was too filled with adrenaline to notice the bloody footsteps he left behind.
The man was right behind him, following him with long and firm strides. When Jeonghan finally reached the front door, his sweaty hand trembled as he tried to turn the round doorknob. The footsteps came closer, and Jeonghan almost couldn’t hear it between the thrumming sound of his heartbeat.
He unlocked the door and yanked it open.
But before he could take any step outside, the man grabbed his hair and dragged him inside again. He kicked the door close and Jeonghan screamed so loud he felt his throat hurting.
The man threw him against the hard wood of the wardrobe at the entrance hallway, the knob digging right on Jeonghan’s tailbone. Then he picked him up only to throw him on the coffee table. The glass broke under Jeonghan, like hundreds of needles poking through his skin. Then his feet were dragged, the glass shards slicing his shirt and then his skin.
The man was right on top of him, looking down at him with such joy in his eyes that should be inhumane. Was this the kind of fear a deer felt when its foot was caught by the crocodile’s sharp teeth?
But Jeonghan was not a deer, and he would not go without a fight.
So he grabbed a particularly big glass shard near his hand and swung the pointy tip towards the man.
Jeonghan didn’t know what he was aiming for, so the glass only landed on the man’s chest, slicing the fabric of his shirt and revealing the skin under it. Jeonghan was moving too frantically that he ended up leaving two more cut on the man’s chest and shoulder. When he tried to jam the glass against his neck, the man caught his hands and punched him repeatedly.
Jeonghan could hear his ears ringing. The wound on his back started to get wet from the blood.
“Please,” Jeonghan said, begged. “Please, please, I don’t know anything.”
The man just adjusted his cap before tilting his head, eyes staring back at Jeonghan. “Oh, I know,” he said simply.
Then he picked a chipped ceramic vase that was laying on the ground, knocked over while they both were wrestling. Jeonghan’s vision went black even before the vase made a contact with his skull.
Everything that came next were blurry. He felt his body getting dragged and thrown on the cold floor, the door slammed close behind him. He managed to open his eyes sometime after that, and the bright bathroom light almost blinding him.
He went in and out of consciousness after that. He felt like he could hear a scream —Hyuk’s. Then something breaking. Then he heard the other man shouted something, Jeonghan could barely made out the words through the walls.
Then he chuckled to himself. These hotel walls were soundproof, enough for Jeonghan to scream his very fake porn star moan at the top of his lungs without ever getting a noise complain from the other guests. He wondered if Hyuk screamed loud enough, would anyone hear it?
But he didn’t let himself hope. The floor under him felt wet from the blood, and Jeonghan didn’t even know from which wound it came out.
He didn’t know how long he went unconscious, but when he came back, there was a song played on the back of his head. Jeonghan didn’t remember the singer, nor the title, not even the lyrics, but the melody was persistent in his brain.
He often wondered what people thought about in their last moment before dying, and a small chuckle came out of his mouth, his entire body hurting from it.
Fuck, I shouldn’t give away the rent money, he thought.