In the vast living room, Yoon Jooho walked toward the low decorative cabinet separating the sofa and dining table, turning his back to Song Hyunsoo as he began rummaging through the drawers.
Wrapped only in a towel— not even a robe— his silhouette was fully exposed.
It was practically the same as wearing nothing at all.
In fact, stripping completely might have been less provocative.
The damp towel clung tightly to his skin, revealing every curve from the sharply defined dip of his waist to the firm, taut swell of his buttocks.
Yoon Jooho’s broad shoulders were already famous, but Song Hyunsoo hadn’t known his body was this good.
He’d assumed Jooho was on the lean side, but—
Every time he rustled through the drawers, the muscles along his shoulders, back, and waist rippled like waves.
Now in his thirties, Yoon Jooho’s face had long lost its boyishness.
His delicate features had gradually gained a dignified maturity, replacing the descriptors of pretty boy or flower-like beauty with an air of cold sarcasm and fastidiousness.
Yet his face remained undeniably, exquisitely handsome.
His well-trained physique, however, clashed with that refined harmony of features.
Song Hyunsoo couldn’t tear his eyes away from Yoon Jooho’s back, nor could he lower the hand covering his mouth.
Just a man standing in a living room after a shower— yet that alone seemed enough to warrant an 19+ rating.
The cute little prince has really grown into a man, huh…
A scent like struck matches briefly filled the air, followed by an intense fragrance that rolled all the way to Song Hyunsoo’s feet.
It resembled Yoon Jooho’s cologne, the scent that clung to his business cards, even the aroma that had lingered in this space when Song Hyunsoo first entered.
Yoon Jooho shook out a long match, extinguishing the flame.
Song Hyunsoo, who had been pretending not to watch, froze mid-step as he tried to retreat to the sofa.
“Yoon Jooho! We have a guest here— what kind of outfit is that?”
Bang Isa, returning with juice, startled at the sight of Yoon Jooho.
Jooho turned toward them, and Song Hyunsoo felt a slight dizziness.
The front view… is just as dangerous.
“What’s the big deal? We’re all men here.”
“That’s not the point, you idiot.”
While Bang Isa flustered, Yoon Jooho remained perfectly calm.
He picked up a juice glass from the tray Isa was holding, his gaze sliding to Song Hyunsoo.
“Does this bother you?”
“……No.”
Actually, I’m grateful.
I don’t know why, but… I just feel thankful to be alive right now.
Yoon Jooho took a sip of juice and shrugged.
“See?”
Bang Isa shook his head in disbelief and hurried back into the room Jooho had emerged from earlier.
Meanwhile, Yoon Jooho leaned casually against the cabinet, lighting a cigarette.
Every scene before Song Hyunsoo was overwhelmingly provocative.
It felt like something he should’ve paid to watch in a theater or bought a magazine to see— a continuous stream of high-quality visuals.
“Why so quiet all of a sudden?”
Exhaling a long stream of smoke, Yoon Jooho tossed out the question.
The faint smirk clinging to his thin lips annoyed Song Hyunsoo.
It felt like a question asked already knowing the answer— why he’d gone quiet.
“I’ve always been pretty reserved. It’s just that someone keeps provoking me.”
He scratched his cheek awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
He couldn’t bear to linger on those thick shoulders, the defined chest, the firm abs, or the prominent presence tenting the towel for too long.
Yoon Jooho brought the filter to his lips, letting out a soft chuckle, but Song Hyunsoo pretended not to hear.
Fortunately, Bang Isa returned as quickly as he’d left, carrying a fluffy white robe.
He forcibly draped it over Yoon Jooho’s shoulders, despite his protests.
“Hyung, why do you always torment me like this?”
“What’s the big deal about putting on a robe? You like robes, don’t you? Just wear it. Come on, Jooho-yah.”
Grumbling, Yoon Jooho reluctantly slipped his arms into the sleeves.
He turned away from Song Hyunsoo, fastening the front and tying the belt.
Then— he let the towel drop.
Thud.
“……”
It was an incredibly strange sight.
Even when he’d only been wearing the towel, Yoon Jooho had been naked underneath.
But now, after putting on the robe, the act of dropping the towel beneath it somehow invited more imagination.
As if what had fallen wasn’t just a towel— but something far more intimate.
Song Hyunsoo felt his mouth grow sticky with saliva and turned his head away.
His heart pounded as if he’d witnessed something forbidden.
But forbidden sights are exactly the ones you want to see the most.
Even after looking away, his gaze kept drifting back.
Is this how the woodcutter felt when he stumbled upon the fairy bathing?
“And the juice was brought for Hyunsoo to drink, so why are you drinking it? What have you even done?”
“You must be tired from spending money and coming all the way here.”
“Oh, wow, good job. Our Jooho, you’ve really done something great.”
While Director Bang went to get more juice, Yoon Jooho walked over and plopped down into a single-person recliner.
As he flicked ash into the ashtray on the side table next to him, he gestured toward the long sofa beside Song Hyunsoo.
“Have a seat, junior.”
“……”
“You’re making me nervous.”
Do you have some kind of terminal illness that’ll kill you if you speak politely?
Glaring at his smirking face, Song Hyunsoo awkwardly perched on the edge of the sofa.
Yoon Jooho lifted his long legs onto the ottoman, crossing his ankles.
The hem of his robe swayed with every movement.
That’s dangerously close…
Hyunsoo licked his lips and turned his head away.
When Director Bang returned, he sat in a lounge chair across from Hyunsoo and slid a glass of juice across the table.
“Try it. It’s homemade, so it should be good.”
“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”
Holding the fresh fruit juice with visible pulp, Hyunsoo finally asked the question he’d been curious about since arriving.
“Director, by any chance, is this place…?”
“Ah, this is Jooho’s house.”
“His house? Senior Yoon’s house?”
Are you telling me I’m currently sitting in Yoon Jooho’s living room?
Hyunsoo’s voice rose in disbelief.
Yoon Jooho, who had been smoking, tilted his head and cut in.
“What? Did you think I didn’t have a house?”
Instead of answering, Hyunsoo slowly turned his head and gave him a look of utter disdain.
If your face had slipped just a little bit back there, I swear…
“It would’ve been better to meet at the company office, but… you know how it is, right?”
At Director Bang’s cautious tone, Hyunsoo turned his face toward him.
“Jooho’s been having some conflicts with the company lately. And he’s uncomfortable meeting outside.”
“I see.”
“If it were a one-time thing, we could’ve met elsewhere, but… since it’s something we’ll need to handle regularly…”
“What kind of work is it? What do you need me to do?”
Are they asking me to clean or something?
Hyunsoo glanced around the house again.
Just the first-floor living room alone seemed over 10 meters long from end to end, and with a second floor, cleaning alone would probably take all day.
“You’ve mostly memorized the Dissolve script, right?”
Hyunsoo, who had been tilting his head back to gaze at the distant ceiling and second-floor railing, turned to look at Jooho in his voice.
“Well, yeah, I’ve memorized it.”
“Jooho mentioned it. He said it seemed like you’d memorized the whole script.”
“……”
He talked to Director Bang about me?
Since when?
And how did he even know I memorized the whole script…?
Ah, he must’ve realized back then.
During the first script reading.
When I recited Isol’s lines.
“You don’t have to memorize it, but the fact that you’ve even memorized other people’s lines proves how hard you’re working. That’s why I thought you’d be the right fit. Both Jooho and I.”
“Thank you for thinking so highly of me. I’m in a position where I have to work hard, after all.”
“Yeah, right.”
Yoon Jooho muttered as he flicked ash.
Director Bang laughed awkwardly and stepped in to explain on his behalf.
“What Jooho means is that he admires how hard you’re working.”
“But does he even realize that?”
Yoon Jooho, leaning his head back against the high backrest of the recliner, looked at Hyunsoo with half-lidded eyes.
“In this industry, hard work alone means nothing. If you don’t deliver results, no matter how hard you work, you’re a sinner. But if the results are good, even the laziest bastards get treated like kings.”
“……”
“But in my experience, the latter lasts five years at most.”
So, what? Are you telling me to work hard or not?
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