If sky could swallowed someone, Yoohan would have asked for it immediately. But even when the sky turned dark and cloudy like it was made of void, he still stood there alone. Was it god that abandoned him or the world? Even the heavy rain could not move his tear gland.
Or was it that he had abandoned himself?
He left the columbarium bearing his little brother's and mother's urns, smirking cynically at the summer rain that had been pouring since morning, as if taunting his inability to shed any tear.
"Do you want me to cry pathetically on the rain like some tragic protagonist?" he chuckled towards the sky.
Too bad that he couldn't. It would probably felt so much better too. Perhaps this feeling of guilt that had been gnawing on his heart ever since the accident three months ago could be shed too.
But he could not cry, and the rotten guilt festered, even as his body healed. He laughed instead; at his body that recovered perfectly without any notable scars, at his little brother's funeral that he couldn't attend because he was unconscious, and at the useless attempt of prolonging his mother's misery for three months. If she had to go in the end, Yoohan should have just pulled the plug himself three months ago.
But he couldn't. He just killed his brother. Was he to kill his mother too?
"Young master,"
Yoohan stopped his laughter and turned his head at the young man in his late twenties that was supposed to be his assistant. The man had been disposed of his assignment to Yoohan after the accident and being moved elsewhere. Somehow, he was here today, bringing an umbrella like a faithful servant still.
"You're not supposed to be here." Yoohan pulled off the black tie that had been suffocating him for hours.
"I want to see the Madam one last time."
Yoohan chuckled bitterly. "What for?"
"To send her to a better place." the man held his palm up, and Yoohan casually put his tie there, like a habit, and took the umbrella.
"Well, wherever it is, should've been better than here."
Yoohan shook the umbrella open and wasted no time to brace the rain. But he turned once to see the man bowed slightly to him.
"Thank you for moving me to Hwayoung."
For the past three months, right after he woke up and realized that his rights were about to be revoked one by one, Yoohan had scattered his people to other companies. It was better for other people to have his team than his wretched family. He couldn't care less about the allowance or other benefits. But not his people.
"I don't know if it's something to be thankful for. Anyway, Song Hwa hyung is way better than my father or brothers." Yoohan looked at the man intently. "Don't falter, Yoo Ilhwan."
The man didn't answer. He didn't need to, since he was no longer worked for Yoohan. But he looked at the young man in front of him, the one he used to call Young Master. He had to treat other people as his master now, and his heart felt heavy. He had served Lee Yoohan ever since his adolescence day. He had witnessed all the bitterness this young man had to endure, all the tricks and cruelty he had to survive from.
This young man, just turning into adult, had to face death and be alone right after his birthday. On a car accident where he was the one who drove. He knew that Yoohan was being plagued with guilt ever since.
Ilhwan had wanted to stay by his side, but Yoohan had hurriedly fired them, only to have people from other company knocked on their doors for recruitment the next day. Yoo Ilhwan knew then what his young master's intent was. It was just painful that they could not do anything for the one they'd serve all this time when he needed them the most.
"Will you be alright, Yoohan-ah?"
He had hoped that Yoohan would sneered at him for using informal speech and calling the young master familiarly. But Yoohan didn't sneer, didn't mock, didn't even laugh.
Lee Yoohan just smiled lightly and shrugged. "Hmm...who knows?"
***
Yoohan swirled the umbrella in his hands, the droplets of water splashed on him, cold and unforgiving. He had walked for a while. From the heavy rain into the drizzle. No, it did not lift his mood.
He wanted to vent, but he didn't know how. He didn't want to fight today. Not today. Yoohan looked at the gloomy sky that seemed to cover the whole city. It didn't matter if the night coming, because it seemed like the sky would not changed much.
Yoohan brought his vibrating phone absentmindedly to his ear, the sound of loud music and people reverberated through the receiver.
["Hey, haven't seen you here for a while. You got time?"]
"I'm not really in the mood."
["I'm not asking you to fight, don't worry. But there's an exhibition event tonight—Battle Royale."]
Yoohan entered the bus stop in front of him and fold his umbrella neatly. He looked at the time table. How's this thing work? He never took a public bus before.
["How is it? You can still vent with watching, can't you?"]
"Vent..." Yoohan chuckled bitterly, prompting the other three people in the bus stop to look at him. Was the bitterness he felt can be solved simply by venting?
Still, Yoohan had no intention to come home into that cold, merciless palace. If he wanted to look for a place to waste tonight, might as well with a familiar place.
["Are you in? The other had been asking about you so much I might get crazy."]
"So that's the real reason you call me?"
["Well...whatever man, just come here will you? We haven't seen you in months."]
"Hmm," Yoohan still perusing the bus route and schedule with perplexed eyes. He never thought public transportation would be this complex. "Do you know what bus should I take to get there?"
["...bus—what are you talking about?"] the voice sound perplexed. ["Where exactly are you?"]
Yoohan looked around. It was just building and trees and convenience store. "I have no idea."
The voice from the call was silent for a while. There was a bit of commotion sound before it resumed with a sighed. ["Stay there and tell me the code of the bus stop, I'll send someone's over."]
"Well, thanks, I guess?"
["Geez, what are you even doing on your own when you just healed."]
Is healed even the right word, though? Yoohan wanted to ask, but he just shrugged and read the code and address of the bus stop. After three different buses passed the place, a black luxurious car pulled over in front of the bus stop and a tall buff man in black suit and sunglasses alighted. The man opened the back door nonchalantly like he'd been doing such thing thousand of times, not even flinching upon the light drizzle wetting his hair and shoulder.
"Didn't know he'll send his bodyguard just to pick me," Yoohan shook his head and get inside the car. When his back came upon the soft leather and his body sunk into the fabric, Yoohan realized that his feet and legs had been hurting.
As the car drove by, Yoohan stared at the shoes he'd been wearing, and then at his watch. He'd been walking for three hours without even realizing it. In a shoes made for a cocktail party.
"Heh." No wonder it was painful. Yoohan smiled widely for a first time in the last three months. "Yeah, it hurts." he murmured, leaning his head back in satisfaction.
"Haa...it should be hurts."
***
"Yoohan my boy~!" the owner of the voice in that call earlier opened his arms wide for a hug, only to be dodged with a shove on his face. "Wow, so cold. Even though I go as far as to pick you up."
"I didn't ask for it." Yoohan looked towards an inconspicuous door at the end of the hallway. There was quite a loud noise that couldn't be completely drowned by the soundproofing. "It's loud."
"Big crowd tonight, everyone's favorites are there. And there's some new guy. Almost all the regular bidders come, so I'm getting swamped with question about you." the man made a fake groan, even though Yoohan knew he was actually joyful for all the money he could swooped off from the spectators. "You're going to bid? You're not fighting anyway."
"Let's see."
Both of them walked towards the normal looking door, opened only with a passcode and fingerprint of VIP members. It was a door lead to a semi circular viewing room with waist high railing that looked upon colosseum-like structure where all the loud noises came from.
Seemed like most of the people had gone down into the arena floor or the first level viewing platform for a better view, because there was only a few people left in that room. All of them looked at the newly opened door and exclaimed with their eyes.
"Oh, if it isn't Lee Yoohan."
"Hey hey, it's been a long time~"
"Yo, Lee Yoohan!"
Yoohan closed his eyes for a second. He didn't really like a crowd or this kind of attention tonight. Was it real? Were they really as glad as they sound? Or were they actually sneering at him inwardly? Most of these people should've known about his situation by now. It was that kind of world, where battle was drawn through wits and hidden innuendos.
Perhaps that was why Yoohan prefer to battle through fists instead. It was simpler and tangible. He didn't need to unravel what people meant and hide within their highly decorated words. And the way you win and lose was clear for all to see.
He walked wordlessly into the railing, looking down at the boisterous crowd. The circular area usually had three to four rings attached on regular basis. But now, a one massive raised platform was there. Some people walked around the arena to inspect them, some talking in groups, some just sat or stood on their own. It was easy to differentiate between the fighters and the spectators from their outfit and the vibe they carried around.
There was this one man though, that Yoohan looked at curiously. The man was definitely a fighter, with the way he dressed in black shirt and black short. He was on his own, wrapping his hand with protective bandage. Yes, he looked like a fighter, but he didn't feel like a fighter. There was a lack of tension around him. He looked so calm and relaxed, leaning on the wall doing his own thing, ignoring the crowd. There was a different kind of aloofness compared with the other veteran fighters. It wasn't just confidence, but Yoohan couldn't really put his mind to find out what exactly it was.
"There's a lot." Yoohan commented briefly, looking around the arena some more, but the corner of his eyes always came back to the man.
"Well, I called every one here tonight. There's three new guys too, so it'll be interesting."
Yoohan hummed lowly, tapping his fingers on the railing. He knew all the old faces, so it was easy to recognize a new one. That weird man was one of the new guy. Yoohan was just about to ask about that man when another voice cut him short.
"Yo, Lee Yoohan, I thought you'll be down there."
Yoohan turned his head to look at a rather tall man in mid twenties, with handsome face and expensive suit. What was his name again? Yoohan couldn't really remember. Was he a celebrity or a politician's son? This is why I need an assistant, Yoohan suddenly missed Yoo Ilhwan.
"Hey, hey, there's nothing wrong with taking it easy and just watch from time to time." the club's manager chimed in.
"Oh, so it wasn't because you can't fight anymore?" the man—was he an actor?—peered down on Yoohan's leg.
Dryly, Yoohan answered without even spared another glance for this man whose name he couldn't even bother to remember. "I'll fight if I'm allowed to pick any opponent."
The manager smirked at the blatant taunting, but the actor was either didn't get it or just chose to gloss over that to comment on Yoohan's appearance.
"Hmm, whatever. But why do you looked like a mess right now?"
Heh, Yoohan sneered, while the manager looked at Yoohan from head to toe, before glancing at the actor. Seemed like the actor wasn't just ignorant, but also didn't know Lee Yoohan at all. What was the point of throwing shade about appearance into someone who never cared about it?
Besides—the manager looked over Yoohan once more—Lee Yoohan did not looked disheveled at all. Sure, there was a little mud splatter on his trouser, and wet patches of rain on his shoulder. But if someone could still looked that pretty after spending hours walking in the rain, then they were far from a mess—a hot mess, more like.
"I don't remember this place have any strict requirements regarding someone's appearance." Yoohan's tapping on the railing was getting faster.
"That's because we don't!" the manager laughed before signaling something. "So you're bidding? I have all of them here."
Seemed like they just decided to completely disregard the actor as the manager brought over a tablet showing tonight's fighter, complete with the amount of bid and their ratio.
"Show me the new one." Yoohan muttered, eyes still glued on that one man.
"Oh, you're quite adventurous tonight. I thought you only do a safe bid."
The screen moved to show three portrait. But Yoohan only focused on one. He didn't really read the profile, just that this was the man's first fight in the club. He's about 5 years older than Yoohan. "On his prime." he murmured. "Is he just fearless, or..." Yoohan hovered over the man's eyes, cold and pale, like an icy snake.
Or he just a beast.
As Yoohan looked down into the arena again, their eyes met. The man had craned his neck to look up and when he caught Yoohan looked at him, held his stare with a smirk.
Perhaps because he was startled, or it was an instinct, Yoohan's finger clicked on that man's profile.
"Oh, you really bid on the new guy?"
Yoohan looked at the tab silently for a while, and then glance at the man again. "Who is he?"
"What? Do you even read before choosing? He's a new guy the boss bring two days ago from the states. I don't really know his capability though." The manager shrugged. "You sure you want to proceed?"
"Can I use my share?"
The manager blinked, then burst out laughing. "You, what happened to you tonight?"
"So can I?"
"Sure, I'll take care of it. But Yoohan," the manager looked at him carefully, the asked in a teasing manner. "You're not trying to die or anything right? It's not like you to be reckless like this."
In a time when all his benefits was being frozen, Yoohan's only asset right now was from the several stocks he scattered here and there secretly, including this underground fight club. For him to use his secret, emergency asset for something as risky as bidding on someone new was so uncharacteristic of him.
"Wouldn't me dying benefited you, though?" since the moment he died, his share would bleed back to the club as per the initial agreement.
"Hey, don't be like that." the manager looked at him worriedly. There was something unsettling with Lee Yoohan that wasn't tense or on edge when he's in the club. The Lee Yoohan now felt like he was ready to abandoned everything, and it was quite scary. Not to mention the fact he came in all black like he was on a funeral. "You know we're fond of you, right?"
"You do?"
"Hey, seriously..."
"Don't worry." Yoohan looked down again, unconsciously licking his lips. "I just want to get hurt a little."
***
But somehow, he didn't get hurt.
Yoohan watched dumbfounded as the guy he picked casually pummeled the person came into him. It was already the fifth person, and the man didn't even seemed like he was breaking a sweat. His bandaged hands were covered with blood, but it wasn't his. At this point, there was only six persons left on the ring, and his appearance stood out from the rest.
"Wow, it's like watching you." the manager whispered, sounding as flabbergasted as Yoohan.
"...How?"
"You know, looking pretty with other people's blood on you?"
"I don't beat people into bloody mess."
"Right, just black and blue. Pretty colors."
The event had started with around thirty fighters. No matter how big the arena was, it still feel crowded. But that exactly why it was easy for them to start throwing punches into the nearest opponent, not much calculation going on at the start. It was like watching gangster's brawl, and the crowd was easily getting excited from the first punch and kick. Anything was allowed as long as you used your own body as a weapon, even low blow. In the first place, it was the brutality that the made this place prominent.
Among all methods, ganging up was an option too. It was common among acquaintances to target other people first so they could be the one ducking it out in the end. At this kind of free-for-all, the one in disadvantageous situation was the loner; those that always alone, and the new one. That was why even if one had a good credibility, people rarely bid on the loner and the new during this kind of event. These people were always the first being targeted on the ring.
Including the one Yoohan bid on earlier.
Usually, new fighter wouldn't get any bidder, unless a particularly adventurous bidder come. But thanks to Yoohan's impulsiveness, the new guy got one. That, coupled with his quite imposing physique, made him a target of several people. Yoohan probably would find it ridiculous if he knew some of these people targeting the new guy exactly because the one that bid on him was the Lee Yoohan.
But the guy had only sneered at the four people caging him. And the rest was history. The man moved with ease and precision. He hit the vital place accurately and disrupting his opponent balance cleverly. He moved with calmness and hit with enough power to incapacitate. His movement was flawless, without any waste or flashy show. But the scariest thing about the man was his unperturbed face and cold eyes as he pummeled on his opponent, cracking bones, and sending people flying out of the arena. The only shred of emotion was coming from his sneer and smirk that occasionally occurred.
He have dimples, Yoohan realized after seeing that smirk again once the fifth person fall flat on the ground. The man stomped on the jerking back that flailed and groaned under his feet and looked around. The leftover six persons were situated quite a distance from each other, so there was now a leeway to take a breather. The man used the time to look up, and stared at his only bidder.
Yoohan held that piercing gaze. Again, the man smirked, his dimple was deep. His confident, borderline arrogant gaze was like telling Yoohan he'd gave the investment back by several fold.
The fighters here received incentives from the amount of bid poured into them. At an exhibition night like this, they'd get ten percent of the winning money. So if the champion had no bidders, they got no money except the paltry prize cash, which pale in comparison with the incentives. Of course, fighters had no idea how much people actually bid on them, but they know who did bid on them. These bidders were like patrons for them. And even though they didn't know the exact amount, they knew these patrons bid in the millions.
It was quite unprecedented, tonight. Among the six persons, that man was the only newbie. The other five were a veteran fighters. Two of them had been this club's fighters since it's establishment. One was an immigrant, and one came from Europe from time to time for these kind of challenges. It seemed like except for the newbie, everyone had a decent amount of bidder.
"It would be really chaotic if your guy really win," the manager cackled beside Yoohan. Personally, the manager prefer that, since 30 percent of stockholder's winning money would come into the club's reserve. And if Yoohan did win, the amount would be enormous.
Yoohan tapped on the railing, feeling like his intention had been cheated on by the newbie. But seeing the man's fight—brutal yet beautiful—Yoohan couldn't help but felt captivated. So even though he'd actually wanted to lose the bid, he still wanted the man to win.
"How troublesome," Yoohan muttered, as the man crackling his neck and knuckles on the arena, "this 'Jay'."
Jay.
That was the name registered on the club. Yoohan had no idea whether it was his real name or an alias, but somehow it just fit the man. He was as good looking as he was strong, making people wondered why he became a fighter instead of doing other safer, more stable job. Driving people's mind wild with guesses. Was it just a hobby? Was he just craved violence? Why did he waste that handsome face in an underground fighting club?
But then, Lee Yoohan was a regular fighter too, even though he was in no need of money, and in possession of a face needed to be protected.
The event was resumed after a slight delay to get rid of the other fallen fighters. And the less crowded arena only gave light to Jay's display of remarkable movement. It was a mix of various martial arts technique, and the way he deal with his opponent's moves showed how well he understand human body. Not to mention the enormous stamina. And more than everything, the guy enjoyed the fight.
Yoohan understood now, that weird vibe he felt from this man. It was not just confidence. It was an understanding that he would come out on top. That there was not one person here had the ability to beat him. The man didn't come here to fight.
He came to play.
"Do you want to fight him?" the manager asked, after seeing how intense Yoohan had been looking at Jay.
Yoohan felt an itch on his palm and hurting leg. Perhaps, in a better day, he would want to play with this man. But tonight, even the notion of himself exchanging punches with other people made his heart heavy. Maybe it was because he kept remembering his mother's words to take care of his body better. Maybe he just tired.
"I don't think I can win, anyway."
Yoohan tapped on the railing for the last time and walked away, as Jay laid a vital punch on the last remaining person. Below, the event's newly crowned champion looked at his only patron's vanishing back with a deep, curious smile.
* * *
He was an attractive young man, the one who bid on him. The only one. He was told that no one would bid on the newbie usually, so he was intrigued when someone choose him. When he asked around before the fight, he recognized the face.
It was the one Jay saw when he looked up at the VIP viewing platform above. A fair, pretty face. A deep, bitter, sorrowful black eyes. He looked at the world indifferently, as if he was detached from everything. He certainly didn't look like someone who came to have fun, like the other spectators.
Which was why Jay was quite astonished in finding out that the young man fight in the club from time to time.
"What, like a hobby?" he asked the bartender.
"Maybe. But I think it's more like...releasing some stress?" the bartender shrugged.
Jay looked at the young man who was trapped inside a circle of people. He'd been watching the young man for half an hour now, and there was always people tried to talk to that young man; other club members, veteran fighters, even the staffs. Beyond the young man's palpable irritation of being the center of attention, people seemed to completely disregard his curt and dry remarks over everything.
"He seems popular."
The bartender looked over at the couch surrounded by people and chuckled.
"Well, Lee Yoohan is kind of like our club's idol." Jay turned his head at the voice. It was the club's manager, the one calling himself Sol.
"Idol..." Jay smirked, downing his gin without removing his pale orbs from the indifferent face that slowly crumbling into annoyance.
"Charming, isn't he?"
Well, he's not wrong. Lee Yoohan looked charming, even with dirty pants and dead eyes. He looked like a typical naïve, rich kid—like other young heirs who came to this place to enjoy seeing people beating each other and betting their money for fun. But from the way Lee Yoohan didn't even seemed to be enjoying the night even if he just became the sole winning bidder, Jay keened to think that the young man didn't just bid on him for fun. And now, he even heard that the young man used to fight in the club.
"He's the type that liked to K.O-ed his opponent." Jay raised his brow, glancing at the smirking manager. "And he don't care if they're bigger. He prefer it more, honestly."
Well, it wasn't like Lee Yoohan had a big physique. He wasn't short either, but most fighters had bigger and taller frame than him. "So you wasn't just let him win?"
On that, Sol and the bartender laughed. "Let him win? I'll be the one he beat up if I messed with his fight." the manager waved his hand. "Well, of course he wasn't always win. He started coming here since he was in high school, when he still somewhat scrawny and a lot more adorable."
"You let a high school kid here?"
"What?" Sol sneered. "We're not exactly running a legal gig here. Should we care about age and what not?"
"Shouldn't you?"
Sol grinned. "Well, yeah, we should. But the one who brought him here was the Song Hwa. You don't reject someone being vouched by The Emperor, even if he was a kid."
"I thought Song Hwa does not dabble in the underworld?"
"No, but he has control over them bosses, so it was all the same. Some people getting closer to Yoohan thinking they can acquire some connection to Song Hwa."
Jay looked at the young man again. He'd been ignoring people and just staring hard on his drink, looking clearly annoyed now. "Must've been annoying for him."
"My boy can't even trust people anymore now." Sol shrugged casually, but his dejected look seemed genuine enough. Jay couldn't help but think that Lee Yoohan was actually being quite loved genuinely here, at least by the staffs. "Well, he's being surrounded by snakes and hyenas, not to mention rats. So it's all understandable."
Jay heard it from the bartender earlier. Lee Yoohan was a scion from a prominent chaebol family—the third son, an eldest from second wife. Normally, he wouldn't have to contend for successorship. But by the will of the first generation, the one to became an heir wasn't the oldest son, but to be picked from the eldest of each wives. And the current head, Yoohan's father, had three, somehow. So the young man had been thrown into the internal war of the family, where he couldn't get out of, for some reason.
An heir candidate for one of the biggest conglomerate family. A reluctant one. No wonder he got a lot of pent up stress. And he liked to fight brutally to release them.
Indeed, charming was one way to put it.
"But I heard he haven't come here for months?" which was probably why people had been flocking on him until he drowned himself in drinks.
"Well, he had an accident."
"Sol." the bartender looked at the manager, who just shrugged.
"Well, it's not really a secret—I mean, it's in the papers anyway." this time, there was a rather worried look on the manager's face. "But sure, it's best not to probe any further."
Jay remembered the look on Yoohan's face earlier—it was full of death, but not of his own. He could somehow draw some conclusion with that. He narrowed his pale eyes, and put the empty glass on the counter.
"Going somewhere?" the manager looked at his new champion, who stood up suddenly.
"Need fresh air." Jay looked once again at Yoohan, the sorrowful gaze he glimpse earlier hovered on his mind.
Must be nice, to at least be able to recognize death as something sad.
Jay looked up at the sky that stopped crying. The night was clear now, the cloud no longer hindering the moon. It was red, as if bleeding.
His mother wasn't bleeding when she died last week. And he hadn't feel sad. And he hadn't wanted to feel sad either. But he did wonder what it would feel like to have that sorrowful gaze. To looked like you wanted to cry inside.
Clack.
Jay exhaled a puff of smoke and turned his head to look at the rooftop entrance. That's right. Like those eyes.
Those black eyes that looked even darker than the night sky. They gazed at the same red moon he'd been watching. The owner of those eyes walked towards the railing, mumbling to no one in particular. "It stopped raining."
Jay followed the young man with his eyes. Seemed like Lee Yoohan didn't even realized there was someone else on the rooftop. He didn't look drunk—at least from his flush-free complexion—but his steps were a little bit unsteady, though he managed to reach the railing without stumbling.
The young man still looked up into the moon, as if he wanted to howl. But he didn't. Instead, Yoohan closed his eyes, as if basking in the moonlight. He inhaled deeply, unraveling the knot on his eyebrow. Jay had to admit, the young man looked ethereal like this, like a painting. The figure clad in black looked like it was melted into the night, but the hard, raw emotions bleed through his silence. That painting like scene was broken soon, though, with a string of nasty curses that sound like a hex spell.
"What an annoying day." Jay could hear Yoohan grumbled afterward. "Should've bashed all of their head together."
Jay couldn't help but chuckled on that, which prompted Yoohan to open his eyes and turned his head to look at him. Rather than feeling annoyed or surprised, the young man narrowed his eyes, like he couldn't see the source of the noise clearly. So Jay moved from his seat, walking closer towards Yoohan. He could see the black eyes blinked once, before recognition dawned on that face. Jay waited until Yoohan told him to stop approaching, or for the young man to give any reaction. But Yoohan just stood there, watching him getting closer, as if in a daze.
He stopped just a couple of steps away from the young man, who still looked at him indifferently. Those eyes were not really seeing him, they seemed to be preoccupied with a lot of other thought. Anger, frustration, sorrow, confusion. The black eyes were stirring, but the face was still. It was giving of an unsettling feeling born from incongruity. It was like watching someone scream silently, or crying without any tears.
"You looked like a mess." Jay smiled, watching his intriguing patron intently.
Yoohan didn't react for a while. Only after he turned his head to looked at the distance that he muttered a remark. "So people say."
"I'm not talking about your clothes." which wasn't exactly a mess by Jay's standard—the young man still looked like any unapproachable rich people out there. "I'm talking about your mind."
Now, that unfazed face finally started to crumble.
"I've been told you come here to vent." Jay tilted his head at the shorter man. "But it doesn't looks like it worked."
"What are you getting at?"
Jay's smile deepened. He wanted to taunt this young man. The rich boy who liked to fight brutally. A muddled mind that craved violence. He felt a strong pull of familiarity with this man, but also a big difference. It was intriguing.
He resort to fight in search for emotions.
The other man resort to fight in order to pour out his emotions.
"Do you want to fight?"
Yoohan looked at him, watching him without uttering any word. When seconds flying by without any response, Jay spoke again. "Doesn't have to be in a ring, if you wa—"
"Hey," the young man cut him with dry voice. "Can you sleep with a man?"
Jay was left stunned for a second. Lee Yoohan was drunk, Jay knew that. But even when he asked of sexual offer, those black eyes were devoid of lust. The red moonlight glared at them, shedding light into those black orbs.
They felt even darker under the moonlight.
Chucking his cigarette into the ground, he looked at Lee Yoohan with a dimpled smirk.
"Only if I'm the top."
_______________________________
🎶 Kalafina - Red Moon
The prologue chapters are prototype. I still don't have enough braincell to go further, but I will try.
*Imma watch some makjang drama for reference* 🤪