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The frost-kissed air bit at Sanghyeon’s exposed ears, a sharp reminder that December had truly settled in. He hunched deeper into his oversized puffer jacket.
Chainsaw Man merchandise. That was the magic phrase.
That was why he stood here, shivering outside a cafe instead of curling up in bed with a manga volume.
“Just for a few hours, please…” Haneum’s voice still echoed in his head. “He’s really nice, and I already told my friend to tell him that I’d be there.”
Sanghyeon had watched his older brother pace their living room, a frantic ballet of guilt and rekindled romance. Junil, Haneum’s ex-boyfriend, was suddenly back in the picture, beaming, while Haneum himself got caught between a rock and a hard place because his friend already booked him a date with an exchange Taiwanese student to get over Junil.
And due to that, Haneum resorted to one solution.
Bribery.
“Exclusive Pochita plushie? The one with the little chainsaw pull-cord?” Sanghyeon had pressed, his eyes narrowing.
“And the limited edition Denji figurine,” Haneum had countered, desperation lacing his tone. “The one you tried to buy last month but it was sold out everywhere.”
Sanghyeon crumbled like a stale cookie.
Chainsaw Man was his lifeblood. His brother knew it.
“Fine,” he’d grumbled, already plotting. “I’m Haneum. Twenty-one. Music major. Is that it?” Haneum had clapped him on the back, a relieved grin splitting his face. “Yep. You’re the best little brother I could ask for!” Sanghyeon rolled his eyes after hearing that.
Now, the weight of that promise pressed down on Sanghyeon. He pushed open the cafe door, a chime tinkling overhead. Warmth enveloped him, carrying the scent of roasted coffee beans and something faintly sweet, like cinnamon. The place buzzed with low chatter, punctuated by the clack of wooden game pieces. Soft lighting spilled from industrial-chic fixtures, illuminating shelves crammed with board games. He scanned the room, his gaze snagging on a figure tucked away in a corner booth, illuminated by the glow of a small table lamp beside him.
A guy. But not just a guy, he’s the guy. That’s the Liyu his brother was supposed to go on a date with. He matched the description, the light blue shirt with the gray fluffy jacket on top, exactly the way his brother had described.
Sanghyeon’s breath hitched. He’d expected… something. Haneum hadn’t shown him a picture, just mumbled something about a shy, cute art student. But this was way beyond cute. His dark hair, soft and thick, framed a face that could have graced a painting. Large, dark, sparkly eyes, fringed by impossibly long lashes. And the perfectly round nose in the center of it all. This dude has a crazy face card. He looked like a character from a romance manga, not a real person.
Sanghyeon felt a jolt, a sudden, unexpected heat bloom in his chest.
Oh, shit.
This wasn’t just about Chainsaw Man anymore. This was... dangerous.
Liyu, catching his eye, offered a tentative smile. He looked a little nervous, his fingers tracing the rim of a ceramic mug. Sanghyeon walked towards him, every step feeling heavier than the last. Liyu’s smile faltered, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. He glanced down at his phone, then back up at Sanghyeon, his brow furrowing slightly.
“Haneum?” Liyu’s voice was soft, a melodic whisper.
Sanghyeon cleared his throat, trying to deepen his voice, to sound less like a teenager and more like a sophisticated twenty-one-year-old. “Yeah, that’s me. Sorry I’m a little late. Traffic was a nightmare.” He slid into the opposite seat, the plush cushion sinking beneath him.
Liyu’s gaze lingered, a hint of skepticism in his wide eyes. He was clearly trying to reconcile Sanghyeon’s appearance with whatever image Haneum had provided. Sanghyeon, despite himself, felt a blush creep up ears. He was shorter than Haneum, less broad, and definitely had a rounder, more youthful face. He probably looked eighteen (He is eighteen). Nineteen, at a push.
“Oh,” Liyu said, the single syllable stretched out. He didn’t quite sound convinced. “It’s… nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Sanghyeon managed, his voice still a little too high-pitched for his liking. He tried to project an air of casual confidence, leaning back in the booth, crossing his arms. He hoped he looked cool, not like a stiff plank.
A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions. Liyu’s gaze drifted from Sanghyeon’s face to his jacket, then back again.
“I’m Liyu,” he offered, extending a hand across the table. His fingers were slender, with a pretty ring circling his index finger.
“I’m Sa–,” he almost fucked up but quickly added, “I mean, Haneum. My name is Haneum.” He winced internally. Smooth, real smooth.
Liyu’s lips twitched. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile. “Right. Haneum. I… I wasn’t expecting…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely.
“Expecting what?” Sanghyeon challenged a feigned nonchalance in his tone.
“Just… a different look, I suppose,” Liyu admitted, his cheeks tinted pink. “Your friend, Masato-hyung, showed me some pictures.”
Masato? Oh, Haneum, you idiot.
Sanghyeon’s mind raced. He had to improvise. “Oh, Sato-hyung. Yeah, he always uses those old ones. From when I was, like, seventeen. I’ve grown and look a little different since then, you know? I rarely go to the gym now and change my hair for a youthful look, Haha...” He patted his cheek, forcing a laugh that sounded a little too forced.
Liyu’s eyes, however, remained fixed on him, an unblinking assessment. “Right. You... do look pretty young for twenty-one.”
“It’s the good genes,” Sanghyeon blurted out, then immediately regretted it. He sounded like a kid trying to sound grown up.
Liyu, as skeptical as he is, let go of the topic. “So, you’re studying music, yes? What instrument do you play?”
“Uh, piano,” Sanghyeon said, grasping at the first thing that came to mind. Haneum did play piano. “And… guitar. Yeah, guitar too.” He tried to recall Haneum’s favorite composers, but his mind drew a blank. “Classical, mostly. But I dabble in jazz.”
“Ah, jazz,” Liyu mused, his gaze unwavering. “Any particular artists you admire? For jazz, I mean.”
Sanghyeon’s internal alarm blared. He knew nothing about jazz. His musical tastes ended at anime soundtracks and K-HipHop. He needed a distraction, something to shift the focus. He spotted a shelf filled with board games.
It’s now or never.
“Hey,” he said, pointing. “They have a great selection here. Are you into board games?” Liyu blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Oh. Yes, I do enjoy them. My friends and I play sometimes.”
“Perfect,” Sanghyeon declared, seizing the opportunity.
He stood up, radiating an energy he didn’t quite feel. “What do you like? Strategy? Card games? Something silly?” Liyu’s smile returned, a genuine one this time, soft and sweet. “Something not too complicated for a first date, perhaps?”
“Good call,” Sanghyeon agreed, already rummaging through the shelves. He pulled out a box. “How about Mahjong? It's classic, a bit complex, though,” He returned to the table, sliding the game across. Liyu’s eyes lit up, a genuine spark replacing the earlier skepticism.
“Oh, I've heard of this one!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. “It's about collecting sets of tiles, right?”
“Exactly,” Sanghyeon confirmed, relieved. The conversation flowed more easily as they set up the game. They explained the rules to each other, their fingers brushing as they sorted tiles. Sanghyeon found himself captivated by the way Liyu’s brow furrowed in concentration, the soft murmur of his thoughts as he deliberated his choices.
Liyu chuckled, a light, airy sound that made Sanghyeon’s chest flutter. “You seem to know this game well.”
They played three rounds, the cafe around them fading into a background hum. Sanghyeon found himself completely disarmed by Liyu’s gentle nature, his quiet humor, and the way his eyes would sparkle when he built a good set. He kept forgetting to act twenty-one, slipping into his natural, enthusiastic self.
“No way!” Sanghyeon groaned, throwing his hands up in mock surrender as Liyu revealed his last piece, securing a decisive victory. “You sandbagged me! You said you hadn’t played much!”
Liyu giggled, covering his mouth with a slender hand. “I said I’d heard of it. I didn’t say I was bad.”
“That’s a distinction you should have made clear, Liyu,” Sanghyeon teased, a grin spreading across his face. He felt a warmth, a genuine connection, that went beyond the initial physical attraction. Liyu was… delightful to be with.
“It’s getting a little late,” Liyu said, glancing at the cafe’s clock. “But this was fun. Thank you, Haneum.” Liyu flashes his pretty smile.
“Wait,” Sanghyeon said, a sudden reluctance seizing him.
He didn’t want the evening to end. Not yet. “There’s a park nearby. It’s supposed to be really pretty this time of year, with all the lights. We could… walk for a bit?”
Liyu’s eyes brightened. “Lights? That sounds lovely.”
They bundled up against the chill, the biting wind a sharp contrast to the cozy cafe. Snow had begun to fall, soft, feathery flakes drifting from the inky sky, dusting the streets in white. The park, when they reached it, was indeed magical. Fairy lights, strung between bare branches, glittered like captured stars. Lanterns glowed softly from hidden nooks, casting a warm, inviting light on the freshly fallen snow.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the crunch of their boots on the snow and the distant murmur of city life. Sanghyeon stole glances at Liyu, illuminated by the soft glow, his features softened, almost angelic.
“So,” Liyu began, breaking the quiet. “You said you’re a music major. What do you hope to do after graduation?”
Sanghyeon’s heart clenched. Another question requiring Haneum’s answers. “Uh, compose, mostly. Maybe teach. You know, the usual.” He tried to sound vague, hoping Liyu wouldn’t press for specifics.
“That’s wonderful,” Liyu murmured, his gaze fixed on the twinkling lights. “I’m an art major. I specialize in painting, mostly landscapes.”
“Really?” Sanghyeon felt a genuine surge of interest. “That’s amazing. Do you have a favorite artist?”
Liyu’s face lit up, eyes sparkled reflecting the lights, “Oh, yes. I love Monet. His use of light, the way he captures fleeting moments… it’s breathtaking.”
Sanghyeon found himself genuinely listening, captivated by Liyu’s passion. This was so much better than pretending to be Haneum. He wanted to tell him everything. He wanted to confess. The words almost spilled out. I’m not Haneum. I’m Sanghyeon. And I think I like you.
But then fear gripped him. Liyu’s face would fall. His warmth would vanish. He’d be disgusted by the deception. He’d probably think Sanghyeon was a weird kid. The Pochita plushie and Denji figurine suddenly seemed very small compared to the potential loss of this connection.
“Yeah, Monet’s great,” Sanghyeon managed instead, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. “His water lilies are iconic.”
Liyu nodded, a dreamy smile on his face. “They are.”
They reached a small, snow-covered bench beneath a canopy of twinkling lights. They sat, shoulders almost touching, the cold air biting at their noses.
“Thank you for tonight, Haneum,” Liyu said, turning to face him. His eyes, dark and luminous, held a gentle kindness. “It was really nice.”
“It was,” Sanghyeon agreed, his voice a little hoarse. He wanted to reach out, to touch Liyu’s hand, but he held back.
“I should probably get going,” Liyu said, a hint of reluctance in his tone. “Right,” Sanghyeon mumbled, his heart sinking. “Me too.”
They stood, brushing snow from their coats. “So,” Sanghyeon began, feeling awkward. “Can I… get your number?” Liyu smiled, a shy, sweet curve of his lips. “Of course.” He pulled out his phone, and they exchanged numbers, the glow of their screens reflecting in their eyes.
“I’d like to see you again, Liyu,” Sanghyeon said, the words coming out bolder than he intended. Liyu’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “I’d really like that too.”
They parted ways at the park entrance, a lingering glance exchanged before they turned in opposite directions. Sanghyeon walked home in a daze, the magic of the evening battling with the heavy weight of his lie. He felt drawn to Liyu, undeniably, powerfully. But the deception, a flimsy shield, threatened to crumble at any moment. This spontaneous decision, born from the bribery of Chainsaw Man merchandise, might just be the best, or the worst choice he’d ever made.
A week later, the snow continued to fall, transforming Seoul into a shimmering wonderland. Sanghyeon and Liyu had been on two more dates. Each time, Sanghyeon found himself falling deeper, the initial infatuation solidifying into something real and tender. He loved Liyu’s quiet observations about art, his gentle humor, the way he crinkled his nose when he was thinking. And Liyu, in turn, seemed genuinely charmed by Sanghyeon’s boundless energy and his slightly chaotic enthusiasm.
They were at a small, independent cinema, emerging from a foreign film that Liyu had wanted to see. The credits rolled, and the lights slowly came up.
“That was… thought-provoking,” Liyu mused, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “Totally,” Sanghyeon agreed, though he’d spent half the movie peeking at Liyu in the dim light.
“So, what’s next? Dinner? Another board game? Or…” He trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are we finally going for a drink?”
Sanghyeon’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, right. The makgeolli place with the artisanal brews. You’ve been wanting to go there, haven’t you?”
“Yep,” Liyu answered, his eyes twinkling, “I was talking to Sato-hyung and he mentioned you’re quite the connoisseur of drinks.”
Sanghyeon’s heart leaped into his throat. He’d completely forgotten about Haneum’s reputation as a social drinker. “Oh, yeah,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You know, a little bit of everything. Scotch, whiskey… I appreciate a good craft beer.” He’d never had a drop of alcohol in his life. He was eighteen, for crying out loud. The legal drinking age was still a month away for him.
“Really?” Liyu raised an eyebrow, a hint of playful challenge in his voice. “Sato-hyung said you preferred soju and makgeolli. And could outdrink anyone in the club.”
Sanghyeon swallowed hard. “Ah, well, you know, tastes change. I’ve been… exploring. Branching out.” He tried to project an air of a sophisticated palate, a man of refined tastes.
Liyu took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze unwavering. “I see. So, you’re not much of a fan of soju anymore?”
“Not really,” Sanghyeon lied, hoping his voice didn’t crack. “Headaches. You know.” Liyu hummed, a low, thoughtful sound. “That’s… surprising. Sato-hyung said he’d never seen You turn down a drink.”
The tension in the air was palpable, thick and suffocating. Sanghyeon’s mind raced. He could feel Liyu’s quiet skepticism, a subtle shift in his demeanor. It was like a game of cat and mouse, and Liyu was the cat, slowly, patiently, cornering him.
“Well, We haven't really seen each other in a while,” Sanghyeon said, trying to sound dismissive. “People change.” Liyu’s smile was polite, but his eyes held a knowing glint. “Indeed they do.” He didn’t press further. “Maybe another time, then. How about we just grab some hot chocolate and go home?”
Sanghyeon’s shoulders slumped slightly, but he quickly masked his disappointment. “Hot chocolate it is, then.” He felt a pang of guilt. Liyu was being kind, letting him off the hook. He hated lying to Liyu, but he was so afraid of ruining what they had.
Days turned into a week, then two. Christmas lights now adorned every street, and carolers occasionally filled the air with festive songs. Sanghyeon’s phone buzzed with a message from Liyu, a picture of a painting he was working on, vibrant with winter colors. Sanghyeon typed back a quick, enthusiastic reply.
He was genuinely happy.
He and Liyu were on their fourth date, now. Both of them nestled once again in the corner booth, surrounded by the comforting scent of roasted coffee. A sense of familiarity, memories from the first day they met. Everything was perfect until Liyu pulled out his phone.
"I just sent Sato-hyung a picture of us," Liyu said with a bright smile, oblivious to the dread that was seizing Sanghyeon. "He's been asking about our dates."
Sanghyeon's heart stopped. He felt the blood drain from his face, and his carefully constructed persona of "Haneum" began to crumble. The Mochita plushie, the Denji figurine, the promises he'd made, all of it felt cheap and insignificant now. He knew Masato, his brother's friend, would immediately see through the lie.
A few tense moments passed. Sanghyeon watched, his gaze fixed on Liyu's phone, as a reply came in. Liyu's brow furrowed slightly as he read the message, the subtle confusion from their first meeting returning to his features.
"That's... odd," Liyu murmured, looking up from his phone with a puzzled expression. "Sato-hyung just sent back a picture of you, but he called you 'Sanghyeon.' And he's asking why you're on a date with me."
The jig was up. The fear he'd been carrying for weeks, the constant dread of being found out, now bloomed into a suffocating reality. There was no more escaping the lie.
"Who's Sanghyeon?" Liyu's voice was soft, but the question was as sharp as a knife.
Sanghyeon couldn't bring himself to look Liyu in the eye. The truth, so long repressed, tasted like ash on his tongue. He finally took a deep breath, the confession he had wanted to make so many times finally spilling out.
"It's me," Sanghyeon said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm not Haneum. I... I'm his little brother." Sanghyeon squeezed his eyes shut. Shame washed over him, hot and stinging. He felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Liyu’s expression softened, losing its playful edge, replaced by a quiet disappointment. He put his phone down, his gaze gentle but firm.
“Sanghyeon.” The name, his real name, spoken so softly, so directly, pierced through him. He flinched. “Is that your name?” Liyu asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Sanghyeon couldn’t speak. He could only nod, a small, jerky movement. His eyes burned. The careful facade he had built, brick by painstaking brick, crumbled in an instant, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.
Liyu sighed, a slow, quiet exhalation. “Why?” Sanghyeon finally looked up, his eyes brimming. Liyu’s face was etched with a pain that mirrored his own. “Haneum… Haneum asked me to.” Sanghyeon confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush, his lips quivering.
“He suddenly got back with his ex, and he needed someone to go on the date. He promised me a limited Chainsaw Man figure and I just… agreed to it without thinking further. And then I saw you, and you were so… you were everything I ever dreamed of, and I couldn’t just tell you I was some stupid kid who lied to get a manga figure.” He buried his face in his hands, a choked sob escaping his lips.
“I’m so, so sorry, Liyu. I know it was stupid. I know I messed up.” He felt childish, ridiculous, explaining it. “I was supposed to pretend to be him; To be twenty-one for one date.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d actually like you.”
A single tear escaped Sanghyeon’s eye, tracing a hot path down his cheek. Then another, and another. He felt like a sad puppy, exposed and vulnerable. He reached up, swiping at them awkwardly.
Liyu watched him, his expression softening further. He reached across the table, his slender fingers gently covering Sanghyeon’s hand. His touch was warm, comforting. But when Liyu spoke, his voice was still soft, though tinged with a new emotion, a wry amusement.
“A Chainsaw Man figure,” Liyu repeated, a faint smile playing on his lips. “And you went to all this trouble for it.” He paused, then chuckled, a low, melodic sound that surprised Sanghyeon. “You really are something else, Sanghyeon.”
Sanghyeon looked up, his eyes still swimming. “You’re not… angry?”
Liyu shook his head, his smile widening. “Disappointed? A little. But angry? No. More… intrigued. And a little endeared, I admit.” He reached out again, this time to gently wipe a tear from Sanghyeon’s cheek with his thumb. “You really do look like a sad puppy right now.”
Sanghyeon sniffled, a small, pathetic sound. “I just… I really like you, Liyu. And I thought… I thought if you knew, you wouldn’t.” Liyu’s gaze softened even further. “Sanghyeon, I like you too. More than I expected to like ‘Haneum,’ certainly. But… Trust is important. And honesty.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes serious.
“If you truly want to be with me, then you need to be honest. And you need to be mature enough to handle whatever comes with that.”
Sanghyeon nodded fervently, his heart soaring with a fragile hope. “I will. I promise. I’ll be mature. I’ll be honest. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Liyu smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that made Sanghyeon’s breath catch. “Good. Because I’m not sure I’m ready to date an eighteen-year-old high school graduate who cries over Chainsaw Man figures.”
“But I wouldn’t mind being friends. For now.” Sanghyeon’s face broke into a wide, tear-streaked grin. Feeling a surge of hope, a warmth spreading through his chest, chasing away the shame. “Friends. I can do friends.”
“Thank you, Liyu-hyung.”
A year passed, bringing Sanghyeon closer to the future he’d envisioned that first night. He studied hard, obviously not for jazz and guitar, but for his own passions, eventually gaining admission to the same university as Liyu and Haneum. He saw Liyu often, their friendship deepening with every shared laugh, every late-night study session, every art exhibition they explored together.
Sanghyeon, now a freshman, walked across campus, a stack of textbooks tucked under his arm. The autumn leaves falling, some clung to the branches. He wore a new, slightly more mature coat, but his Chainsaw Man hoodie still peeked out from underneath. He spotted Liyu by the fountain, stroking lines on a worn sketchbook, the autumn sun glinting off his dark hair. Liyu, still as captivating as the day they met, looked up, a soft smile gracing his lips.
“Liyu-hyung!” Sanghyeon called out, his voice carrying across the quad. Liyu looked up, a surprised smile spreading across his face. “Sanghyeon-ah! You’re here.”
Sanghyeon jogged over, a playful glint in his eyes. He stopped right in front of Liyu, leaning down slightly, invading his personal space. “Just finished a lecture,” Sanghyeon replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “And then I thought, ‘Hmm, I wonder what my favorite hyung is up to?’ And here you are.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, you look particularly handsome today. Is that a new sweater?”
Liyu’s cheek blossomed, his bunny-like eyes widening slightly. “Sanghyeon, stop that.” He tried to sound stern, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Stop what, hyung?” Sanghyeon feigned innocence, batting his eyelashes.
Liyu swatted playfully at his arm. “You menace! Someone will hear you.”
“Let them hear,” Sanghyeon declared, his voice full of mock drama. “Let the whole university know that Chung Sanghyeon has his eyes set on the most beautiful art student on campus.” He straightened up, a wide, cheeky grin on his face.
Liyu, flustered, buried his face in his sleeves, a soft giggle escaping him. “You’re impossible, Sanghyeon-ah.”
“Only for you, hyung,” Sanghyeon said, his voice dropping to a softer, more sincere tone. He reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind Liyu’s ear. “So, dinner tonight? My treat. I hear that new Italian place has excellent pasta. And I promise, no lies about my age or my alcohol tolerance this time.”
Liyu looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper, something warm and reciprocated. “You’re such a goofball,” he murmured.
“Your goofball,” Sanghyeon corrected, a grin spreading across his face. He watched Liyu’s cheeks darken even further, and felt a familiar flutter in his own chest. This time, Liyu didn't just blush. He squeezed Sanghyeon's hand and leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. "And that's the one thing I'd love to be a hundred percent sure about."
This time, there was no Chainsaw Man merchandise involved, no elaborate deceptions. Just Sanghyeon, the real Sanghyeon, relentlessly flirting with his Liyu-hyung, and loving every second of it.