Chapter Text
“Mom, I have something to do this Saturday. I can’t go to that blind date you’re talking about.”
“It’s not a blind date, son. I just want you to meet the new matchmaker I hired. The previous one didn’t give me good results, though.” Melody Chwe said, rolling her eyes as she looked at her son sitting behind his office desk.
They were currently in Hansol’s private office at Prism Art House, one of the most prominent museums in major cities across the country, owned by the Chwe family—a name that had long been established in the art world.
Even though Hansol was still pursuing his Master’s degree in Art at Yonsei University and was in his last year, he was already helping manage the daily operations as a director.
Because of that, it wasn’t unusual for him to be constantly busy, balancing both his studies and his responsibilities at work. And that was exactly why his mother was worried—he was leaving no time for other important things.
Like his love life.
Or building a family of his own.
Hansol’s mom had always been fond of matchmaking him with different people, just to make sure he wouldn’t end up alone. Still, she wasn’t the type to force him into an arranged marriage. She preferred something more “semi-organic”—introducing him to people and letting things develop naturally.
And honestly, Hansol appreciated that.
She never pressured him. If he didn’t like someone, he could simply be honest about it.
The problem was… for almost a year of trying, Hansol hadn’t actually dated anyone seriously.
Not even once.
Which was exactly why Melody Chwe decided to find a new matchmaker—someone who was slowly gaining recognition in the field and came highly recommended by some of her friends—hoping, and quite desperately praying, that this time, things would finally work out.
“Again, it’s not a date. The matchmaker requested that he speak to you personally so he can assess what you like and find you a better match.”
Hansol took a deep breath and set down the document he had been reading. “Mom…”
“Even just 30 minutes!”
The bachelor simply looked at his mother, his expression unreadable. But really, what could he do?
If anything, he should consider himself lucky. His mom wasn’t forcing him to meet a future husband or wife—just the matchmaker who would be responsible for introducing him to potential dates.
“Thirty minutes, max.”
Melody’s face immediately lit up at that.
Before Hansol could say anything else, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Deal, son” she said brightly.
Then, just as quickly, she walked out of the office, already dialing someone on her phone.
“Hello… my son has already confirmed to meet you this Saturday,” she said with a satisfied smile as she walked away. “I hope you can really help him find a match.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
One of the things Hansol values most is punctuality and commitment to one’s work. Those are his personal mantras, and when others fail to live up to them, it definitely irks him.
So when he finally arrived at the restaurant where he was supposed to meet the matchmaker his mother had been talking about, he couldn’t help but raise a brow when a woman was the one waiting for him instead—and introduced herself as the assistant.
She seemed visibly nervous, both because the client in front of her was Hansol Vernon Chwe, and because she had been left alone to handle everything on her own.
“I-I do apologize, Mr. Chwe, but my boss got caught up in something… urgent. So I’ll be the one conducting the interview.”
The assistant explained, though he barely responded. Hansol simply nodded, and they proceeded with the interview. She fiddled carefully with her tablet, trying to steady her nerves.
She went through the standard set of questions, focusing on his preferences in a partner, the qualities he appreciated, and the traits he tended to avoid. Hansol listened calmly and answered in a composed, minimal manner, giving her just enough to note down without unnecessary elaboration.
The interview continued with questions about his lifestyle, routines, and how he usually spent his time outside of work and studies. The assistant wrote everything down diligently, making sure not to miss a single detail, occasionally glancing up to observe his reactions.
The interview continued with questions about his lifestyle, routines, and how he usually spent his time outside of work and studies. The assistant wrote everything down diligently, making sure not to miss a single detail, occasionally glancing up to observe his reactions.
As the questions progressed, Hansol subtly checked his wristwatch.
It was a small movement—almost effortless—but the assistant caught it immediately.
She quickly finished jotting down her final notes, then gave a small, polite nod.
“Thank you, Mr. Chwe. That concludes the interview.”
Hansol gave a brief nod in response. “No worries.”
He adjusted his coat, already shifting his weight as he prepared to stand and take his leave. That was when the atmosphere in the room changed.
The assistant’s attention suddenly shifted past him, toward the entrance. Her expression lit up with visible relief, as if a heavy burden had just been lifted off her shoulders.
“Sir Seungkwan!”
The name slipped out of her almost too quickly, loud enough to cut through the calm air of the restaurant.
Hansol paused mid-movement.
Slowly, his body went still.
There was no way… right?
A moment later, a man stepped into view.
“I’m sorry, Yerin. I had to drop by a pharmacy,” the newcomer said in a low, composed voice as he walked closer.
And just like that, the confirmation settled in.
The assistant immediately turned to him again, her tone more composed now, though still slightly relieved. “It’s okay, sir. But Mr. Chwe was already on his way out—”
Her sentence broke off abruptly.
Because Hansol had already stood up fully and he was now looking directly at her boss.
Seungkwan’s eyes landed on the man who had just stood up. His gaze widened slightly as realization hit him.
“Hi, Kwan.”
But Seungkwan seemed to freeze in place.
And if not for Yeri addressing him as “sir,” he would have completely lost his composure and made a fool of himself right then and there.
After a brief moment of silence, Seungkwan finally collected himself. He stepped forward, extending a hand with practiced professionalism, though his expression still carried traces of surprise.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Chwe,” he said evenly.
Hansol accepted the handshake, but instead of letting go right away, his grip lingered just a little too long—subtle, but enough to make the air between them feel heavier than it should have been.
“Again,” Hansol said softly.
Then, after a brief pause, his voice lowered slightly.
“It’s good to see you again after all these years, Kwan.”
That finally made something flicker in Seungkwan’s expression. He gently withdrew his hand, resetting the distance between them as if trying to regain control of the situation. His posture straightened almost immediately, slipping back into his professional role.
“Since the interview has already been completed, we’ll reach out to you regarding the progress. Please keep your lines open,” he said formally.
He gave a small bow, and his assistant quickly followed his lead.
“We’ll take our leave—”
“I do have something to discuss with you, if you don’t mind.”
The interruption was calm, but firm.
Seungkwan blinked, caught slightly off guard. His gaze shifted briefly to Yeri, silently confirming whether everything had indeed been concluded. The assistant quickly lifted her tablet, showing him the completed notes as proof.
“I believe my assistant has already—”
“I’d like to discuss something more… personal,” Hansol interrupted.
His voice was calm, but firm. His eyes never left Seungkwan, and that alone was enough to make the air between them feel heavier than before.
Seungkwan exhaled quietly through his nose. This was already going beyond what he had expected.
Before Hansol could continue further, potentially making things more complicated for the assistant, Seungkwan finally turned slightly toward Yeri.
“You can head back to the office first,” he said.
“Yes, sir Seungkwan,” she replied quickly, bowing to both of them before leaving the restaurant.
The moment she was gone, the atmosphere shifted again.
Seungkwan moved toward an empty chair and sat down, his posture controlled, deliberate. Hansol remained standing for a moment longer before slowly settling back down as well.
“What would you like to order?” Hansol asked casually, as if they were simply meeting under ordinary circumstances.
“There’s no need,” Seungkwan replied immediately.
“I insist—”
“Your mother clearly mentioned during our call that the meeting was only supposed to last thirty minutes,” Seungkwan cut in calmly. “It’s already well beyond the time you allowed.”
For a brief second, there was silence.
Then Hansol reached into his coat, pulled out his phone, and dialed someone without even breaking eye contact for long.
Seungkwan watched him with visible disbelief, one eyebrow slowly lifting as he crossed his arms.
“Hyung… I’ll be late,” Hansol said into the phone, turning slightly away. “I have something to deal with. I’ll call you later. Yeah… okay.”
A pause.
“See you.”
He ended the call and placed the phone back into his pocket as if nothing had happened.
When he looked back at Seungkwan, his expression remained completely composed.
“It’s handled. I have all the free time I need.”
Seungkwan stared at him for a long moment, clearly unimpressed—and slightly overwhelmed by how casually he had just bent his own schedule.
Then, after a beat of silence—
“So…” Seungkwan began, his arms still crossed, gaze steady. “What is it you want to talk about?”
“Not until you order and eat something,” Hansol replied without hesitation.
“I’m not hungry.”
Hansol didn’t even blink. “Still the same hard-headed Kwan I knew.”
That earned him a quick, pointed look.
“I’m not the same as the old Kwan,” Seungkwan said firmly, his voice steady despite the faint edge in it. “Just want to clear that up.”
Hansol tilted his head slightly and studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable but intent. There was no teasing in his eyes this time—only quiet curiosity.
“What’s so wrong with your old self?” he asked.
Seungkwan let out a short, disbelieving scoff, shaking his head slightly. “You’re seriously asking me that? When you were one of the people who hated that Seungkwan the most?”
“What?” Hansol’s brows immediately knit together, confusion flashing across his face. The statement clearly caught him off guard, like it didn’t align with anything he remembered.
He was about to press further—ask what Seungkwan meant, correct him even—when his gaze dropped. It was subtle at first. But then he saw it.
A bandage wrapped around Seungkwan’s hand.
Hansol’s expression shifted almost instantly, the confusion giving way to something sharper, more focused. His eyes traced the injury, then moved upward—and that was when he noticed another one, smaller, partially hidden beneath Seungkwan’s bangs.
For a second, everything else seemed to fall away.
Without thinking, Hansol pushed his chair back and stood. The movement was abrupt, almost urgent, as he stepped closer and stopped right beside him. Then, without hesitation, he lowered himself down on one knee.
Seungkwan barely had time to react before Hansol reached for his hand.
His touch was firm but careful, fingers turning Seungkwan’s hand slightly to get a better look at the bandage, as if making sure he wasn’t imagining it. There was something uncharacteristically gentle in the way he held it—like he was afraid of hurting him further.
Then his other hand moved.
Slowly, instinctively, Hansol brushed Seungkwan’s hair aside.
The smaller bandage on his forehead came fully into view.
Seungkwan stiffened at the contact, clearly caught off guard.
“W-what are you—”
“What happened here?” Hansol cut him off, his voice low, controlled—but this time, there was no mistaking the concern beneath it.
Seungkwan tried to pull his hand back, a bit too quickly. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”
But Hansol didn’t let go.
His grip tightened just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to stop him.
“Tell me,” Hansol said, his eyes locking onto Seungkwan’s. His voice dropped this time—firmer, leaving little room for escape. “What happened?”
Seungkwan hesitated, clearly unwilling to say anything, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he could just brush it off. But there was something in Hansol’s tone—something steady, insistent—that made it harder to deflect. And eventually, against his better judgment, he gave in and told him.
The reaction was immediate.
“You fucking what?” Hansol’s voice rang out, loud enough to turn heads from nearby tables. A few diners glanced their way, curiosity flickering across their faces, and Seungkwan felt a surge of panic crawl up his spine.
“Do you really have to be that loud?” he hissed, quickly lowering his head. The movement brought their faces closer, nearly at the same level, his voice tight with embarrassment.
Hansol didn’t even look fazed.
“Who wouldn’t react like that after finding out you got into a fender bender—and instead of going to the hospital, you came straight here like nothing happened?” he shot back, his tone sharp with disbelief.
“I told you, it’s not serious,” Seungkwan insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “They’re just minor scratches, and—”
He didn’t get to finish.
Hansol was already moving.
In one swift motion, he stood up from where he had been kneeling, pulling out his wallet and tossing a few bills onto the table without even glancing at them. Then, without a word, he reached for Seungkwan’s uninjured hand and tugged him upward.
“What?!” Seungkwan blurted, caught off guard as he was pulled from his seat.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“No. It’s nothing—” Seungkwan started again, but his words faltered when Hansol turned back to him.
They were close. Too close.
Only a few inches separated their faces now—close enough for Seungkwan to feel his breath, close enough to forget what he was even about to say.
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Hansol said quietly this time, his voice lower but far more dangerous in its certainty. His grip tightened slightly around Seungkwan’s hand, grounding, unrelenting. “And we are going to the hospital—whether you like it or not.”
There was a brief pause, his gaze unwavering.
“Even if you keep insisting,” he added, a faint edge of something almost teasing slipping through, “I’ll carry you out of here like a sack of rice if I have to… just to get you there. And I mean that.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
By the time they stepped out of the doctor’s office, Seungkwan felt a mix of relief and quiet annoyance settling in his chest. The check-up had been quick—nothing serious, just as he had insisted from the start.
A few minor injuries, some medication, and strict advice to rest. Still, the faint sting on his skin and the dull ache beneath it reminded him that maybe, just maybe, Hansol hadn’t been entirely unreasonable.
“I told you, it was nothing serious,” Seungkwan muttered, glancing sideways as they walked down the hospital hallway, the sterile scent lingering in the air.
“It’s better to be sure,” Hansol replied without missing a beat. “You’re not a doctor.”
“Obviously,” Seungkwan shot back, rolling his eyes. “Because I’m a matchmaker, duh?”
That seemed to do something.
Hansol suddenly stopped walking.
Seungkwan took a step forward before realizing, then turned back, only to find Hansol looking at him—really looking at him. There was an intensity in his gaze that made Seungkwan shift under it, suddenly aware of himself in a way he hadn’t been moments ago.
“What?” he asked, brows knitting slightly.
Hansol shook his head once, almost like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “I just… can’t believe we actually met again like this.”
Seungkwan felt his chest tighten at that. He bit his lower lip, instinctively pulling up his guard.
“I didn’t know Mrs. Chwe was your mom,” he said, his tone turning more careful, more measured. “And I hope you don’t get the wrong idea—I didn’t take this job because I knew it would be you. If I had known…” He exhaled softly. “I wouldn’t have even accepted the recommendation.”
Hansol’s expression shifted, something sharper flashing in his eyes.
“And why wouldn't you?”
Seungkwan hesitated, then forced himself to answer. “Because the last thing I’d want is to make you uncomfortable.”
“And what made you think that it’ll make me uncomfortable?" Hansol asked, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.
Seungkwan let out a humorless breath, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning. “I’ve grown, Hansol. I’m not the same Seungkwan who used to follow you around in college like some lovestruck idiot, always looking at you like you were the only person in the room.”
The words lingered between them.
Neither of them spoke after that.
But neither looked away, either.
It felt like a silent standoff—years of unspoken things pressing in, neither willing to break first.
Hansol was the one who did.
“Since you brought it up,” he said slowly, “is that why you suddenly disappeared after graduation? Because I told you to stop what you were doing?”
Seungkwan blinked, caught completely off guard. “Oh, come on—that’s—” He let out a small, incredulous laugh, but the sound died in his throat as the words settled.
Seungkwan froze. “…What did you say?”
Hansol didn’t look away this time. If anything, he stepped closer, closing the space Seungkwan had grown used to keeping between them.
“I said,” Hansol repeated, slower now, like he needed Seungkwan to hear every single word, “just because I told you to stop back then… doesn’t mean I didn’t feel anything.”
Seungkwan’s brows pulled together, confusion flashing across his face, quickly chased by something sharper—hurt, maybe, or disbelief.
When he didn’t answer, Hansol stepped forward again.
Seungkwan instinctively stepped back—once, twice—until his back hit the wall behind him. The sudden closeness knocked the breath out of him, Hansol standing right in front of him now, close enough that he couldn’t look anywhere else even if he tried.
The seriousness on Hansol’s face made his chest tighten, his thoughts scrambling.
“I made you stop,” Hansol said, his voice low, steady, leaving no space for doubt, “because I should’ve been the one chasing you.”
Seungkwan’s breath caught.
“Not the other way around.”