Catching sight of Yoon Monan, Mu Guwon stopped dead, his expression going rigid. His disheveled hair was soaked with sweat. A drop slid down the smooth groove carved between his chest and abs. Steam rose off his body, a result of the sharp temperature shift against his lightly tanned skin. He wiped the sweat beading along his jaw with the back of his hand, frowning in confusion. “Cross, mind if we run with you?” Yoon Monan asked shamelessly. In the next instant, Guwon understood exactly what that nickname meant. His face twisted with revulsion.