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"You taste like gasoline," Seonghwa said, dizzy, as his hand ran under the other's soaked shirt, sliding against seething skin like the drag of a bristle tongue.
"I taste like truth," Hongjoong growled into his throat, and pulled him back in.
ᝰ.ᐟIn a neon-drenched Seoul teetering on the edge of surveillance and silence, Seonghwa is just another burned-out designer with nothing left to lose - until he meets Hongjoong, a graffiti artist with a criminal streak and a god complex.
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Or, a story about Seonghwa, who loses himself in Hongjoong's twisted web of crimes, all in the name of love.