…The man didn’t take his eyes off him either.

　　Do I look strange? Is my apron too dirty? Inwoo rubbed his knees for no reason. His eyes felt hot, and a wave of unwarranted embarrassment washed over him.

　　He had only stared because the man was handsome. Not that he saw him as a man—it was more like noticing a celebrity. He looked like a grown man rarely seen around a college town, and he was extraordinarily handsome, and also…

　　Their gazes met a few more times. Once he became aware of it, he kept glancing back despite telling himself not to. Is this really okay…? Inwoo took a slow sip of water. Then, with a clatter like a kicked tin can, Horn-rimmed Glasses stood up.

　　“Agh, gotta go. What’s the point of holding onto you anyway? You’re already like this.”

　　Inwoo quickly moved to the counter. Horn-rimmed Glasses, reeking heavily of alcohol, spoke warmly.

　　“Ehehe, we stayed so late that you couldn’t even close up, Boss… Sorry about that. You see, today is just…”

　　“Today’s the only day, you know.”

　　Inwoo smiled, finishing the sentence for him as he processed the payment. Right beside him, he felt a piercing gaze directed down at him. As far as he could tell, the attitude was clear: If my eyes wander that way, I look. I look at what I want to see. It was such an unfiltered stare that it was almost overwhelming.

　　“We’ll come back again. Yeah, have a good night…”

　　Horn-rimmed Glasses was clearly drunk, weaving unsteadily, but the well-put-together man in the suit made no move to support him. Deftly nudging him in the side, he steered him toward the road in front of the shop and brought him to a halt under a streetlight. He seemed to be waiting for a car.

　　Inwoo watched them get that far, then swiftly cleared the tables and tidied up the dining area. Sweeping and mopping could wait until tomorrow, but tomorrow happened to be his day off. Nothing was more foolish than slacking off on someone else’s dime and drawing dirty looks.

　　After thoroughly cleaning up and arming the security system, he stepped out of the shop. Thunder rumbled overhead, but the rain had paused for a moment. Farther down, the man he thought had long since left was standing alone, a cigarette between his lips.

　　Inwoo walked in that direction simply because it was the route home. It wasn’t even a detour; walking straight past that spot led directly to the entrance of his studio apartment building. At the sound of approaching footsteps, the man turned around. Through the cigarette smoke drifting into the darkness, his pale, sharp features were simply a work of art. Inwoo smiled awkwardly and walked past, wanting to avoid any misunderstanding—

　　“Is there a convenience store nearby? I’m thirsty.”

　　…Yet the man had spoken to him first.

　　He’d said he was thirsty. Swallowing hard, Inwoo turned his head stiffly.

　　“Ah, well… Our shop is in a good location, but the nearest convenience store is surprisingly far away. There’s a small corner shop right over there, but it’s probably closed by now…”

　　The man fixed Inwoo with an unblinking gaze and exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke.

　　“What a shame, when I’m so thirsty.”

　　Those words, which sounded strangely brazen, made Inwoo’s heart leap—

　　“Are you the owner?”

　　—before settling right back down. Talk about someone without prejudices. Deflated, Inwoo replied,

　　“No, I’m just a part-timer.”

　　“I see.”

　　Not “I can tell,” just “I see.”

　　It sounded odd. Inwoo felt like he might die of embarrassment, being watched like that. Spurred by an inexplicable nervousness, he blurted out,

　　“Then would you like me to get you a glass of water from my place? My home is…”

　　The moment he said it, his heart thudded in panic.

　　“…right over there.”

　　When Inwoo pointed to the studio apartment building across the two-lane street, the man’s gaze followed his hand. He took his time, then said,

　　“It’s close. Very.”

　　…That was what he had to say.

　　Now Inwoo felt bewitched. While people occasionally spoke to him, chatting with a customer after closing the shop was a first. It sounded absurd, but the man seemed to be talking more now than he had during nearly three hours of drinking.

　　Hesitantly, Inwoo walked ahead.

　　“If you wait here, I’ll bring it right out. I’m on the first floor.”

　　By “here,” Inwoo meant the pavement in front of the studio apartment building, or perhaps the cramped building entrance up three steps. As he punched in the familiar passcode, the sound of dress shoes stepping firmly on the stone pavement drew closer behind him.

　　As the lock disengaged, the man pressed in right behind him and pushed the door open. Utterly stunned, Inwoo climbed the two steps, finding himself right in front of his apartment door. The footsteps followed again. If he looked back now, the man would be far too close. Hunching his shoulders, Inwoo punched in the door’s passcode.

　　“Just a moment. Right away…”

　　He pulled the door halfway open, kicked down the doorstop, and stepped inside. The entryway was tiny, with just a few tiles on the floor, and of course had no foyer light. The kitchen was right beside the entryway, and he immediately opened the refrigerator. Taking a cup from the drying rack, he poured some water and turned around—

　　“Here you g—!”

　　Water spilled over as he collided with the solid wall before him. The man had stepped inside the cramped entryway. Beyond him, the door was slowly closing. The hallway light vanished before his eyes. I… the doorstop… I know I…

　　“…”

　　Taking the cup from Inwoo’s frozen hand, the man slowly drank the water. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out his free hand and wiped the moisture from the back of Inwoo’s hand. Even though it was merely the back of his hand. Even though Inwoo only had a few drops on his skin while the front of the man’s suit jacket was thoroughly soaked. Even though the moisture spread further across the back of Inwoo’s hand under a touch that rubbed rather than brushed it away…

　　Fragments of darkness glistened. Now Inwoo didn’t take his eyes off the man either. There seemed to be no reason to look away. Leaning against the front door, the man drank the water slowly, his eyes quiet and uninhibited as he looked down at Inwoo. Setting the empty cup down on the shoe cabinet, he asked nonchalantly,

　　“Do you happen to be into men?”

　　By then, Inwoo’s sense of reality had slipped away. It felt as though he had been swept away not by the low fever lingering from the tail end of a cold, but by an unaccountable intoxication—by the exposure of a taboo kept hidden alongside sordid self-mockery. Otherwise—

　　“…How did you know?”

　　—how could he explain asking such a question in return?

　　The man answered simply.

　　“Just a hunch.”

　　“Just…”

　　He was still caressing the back of Inwoo’s hand. A beat of silence passed. In the confusion stirred up inside him, Inwoo’s mouth fell open dumbly.

　　“Right now… are you…”

　　Again, the answer came promptly.

　　“I’m proposing a one-night stand.”

　　Embarrassingly enough, Inwoo thought of his own lack of sexual experience at twenty-three. He had been aware of his attraction to men, and a few people had briefly crossed his path and sparked that realization, but he had never even held hands with anyone. The groping from drunk older men he occasionally endured while working at the factory obviously didn’t count. Could something like this really just happen out of nowhere? Is this how it usually…

　　“Is this…”

　　“Yes, this is how it usually happens.”

　　Is it? Captivated by the smiling man, Inwoo nodded blankly. Right. This really was no joke.

　　From that moment on, only rash bravado and instinct remained. This was how it was done, and an opportunity like this would never come again. Wh-When would he ever meet a man like this… Besides, like they said, today was the only day.

　　Shivering as he caught his breath, Inwoo barely managed to speak.

　　“Th-Then… may I wash up first?”

　　His throat ached just from asking that. So did the muscles and veins of his vocal cords, and every joint in his entire body.

“It’s, my firs—”

　　…time. Was that something he shouldn’t say…?

　　“Ah.”

　　Letting out a brief chuckle, the man grasped Inwoo’s arm and stepped into the room. He turned on the bedside lamp and loosened his necktie.

　　“Go wash up.”

　　“…Yes.”

　　With trembling legs, Inwoo barely made it across the room. The moment he leaned against the worn door with its warped bottom edge, he remembered the lock was broken. Everything in this place was like that, and while it had never bothered him before, heat rushed to his ears.

　　In any case, he undressed and squatted down, waiting for the water to warm up before scrubbing himself thoroughly. He suddenly felt embarrassed by the smell of meat clinging to his body. After washing his hair vigorously, he emerged to find the man standing in the middle of the room, looking all around. When their eyes met, Inwoo felt immensely grateful for his habit of keeping extra underwear and loungewear in the bathroom—even if it was purely because the room was so small.

　　It was unbelievable. Bringing a man home. Washing up to do that kind of thing with a man.

　　He had never considered himself obsessed with looks, and he was too busy making ends meet to have entertained romantic delusions in ages, but it seemed he was quite shallow after all. Otherwise, how could he be doing this, as if under a spell? Barely twenty minutes had passed since he locked up the shop.

　　The man stepped over and stopped right in front of Inwoo, who was breathless from working himself up. A faint smile played across the man’s impeccably cool, handsome face. Even long after, Inwoo would never remember that those calm eyes had held an appraising look. Beyond the window, it sounded as though it had begun to rain.

* * *

　　Reaching out, he touched the prominent shoulder bone through the worn t-shirt. Though a bit on the slender side, his frame had clean, straight lines. Even while rushing around serving tables, he had a strangely composed air about him. The way he made eye contact and smiled while taking orders from customers was eye candy, too.

　　Eye candy.

　　In other words, something decent to look at while letting his whining cousin’s complaints drift past him.

　　Since he would eventually have to employ people to make his living, he often observed others to train his eye. Yet this was the first time his attention had been drawn so intensely to a service worker in an unrelated field. Average height with a slender frame, a white t-shirt and jeans, an apron printed with a soju advertisement, and a pale, neat face under soft hair. Unlike other part-timers who slacked off, he moved constantly without losing his neat, clean look.

　　Come to think of it, he had made a good impression right from the start, when he had greeted them with wide eyes, saying, “Welcome.” As they say these days, perhaps he had the look of someone who would pass any job interview. In any case, he believed that up until that point, he had only been viewing the man through the eyes of a future entrepreneur.