Chapter Text
Sohee rubs his burning eyes. He just can’t stand the blue light from the monitor any longer. He steals a glance at the digital clock on his desk, 2.27 pm. He has been back from Taipei for three months. While Seoul is familiar, this is technically his first corporate job in Korea. He is still getting used to the rhythm, and his workload is as crazy, if not more so.
Sohee stands up, his chair shrieking in protest. He needs to bribe his brain with an iced americano. And on the way back, maybe tell General Affairs to replace his chair. No big deal, just the fourth request that would likely be ignored again, anyway.
He should walk through the Business Development wing to reach the lifts directly. Instead, Sohee takes a sharp left, heading toward the far-end service lifts. It is a four-minute detour through a dimly lit corridor, but he won't need to pass a single person from BD. It’s part of his routine now, just like using the old and often-jammed photocopier instead of the fancy new one near the pantry, where he could hear their laughter. He isn't ready to run into certain people yet.
---
The coffee shop at the base of the block is always in a war zone at this hour. Sohee joins the back of the queue, thinking about his apartment. Specifically, the refrigerator provided by his landlord, which let out one final shuddering gasp and died a week ago. Only God knows how old the thing was. Maybe it’s time.
He stares at a tall man at the very front. The man wears a charcoal-grey suit that hugs his frame perfectly. Must be a bespoke, Sohee thinks, a high-flyer. Seems handsome. It is strange that one can sense a man’s handsomeness even when only seeing the back of his head.
"Order 402! Four iced americanos, extra shot."
The tall man turns around, balancing a cardboard tray. He pauses, squinting through the crowd, his face shifts into a smirk as he approaches.
"Lee Sohee? Am I hallucinating?"
Sohee’s eyes go wide. "Eunseok hyung?"
They exchange pleasantries. It has been nearly six years. Song Eunseok is one year older, his former flatmate for two years during their university days abroad. After Eunseok graduated and moved back to Korea, their contact dwindled into sparseness, then nonexistence. The last time they had texted each other was when Eunseok congratulated Sohee on his graduation. Sohee wanted to get in touch after moving back to Korea himself, but his enlistment notice came sooner than expected, and after staring into the sea on a daily basis during his service, well, he didn’t have any bandwidth to socialize on his days off.
Sohee reads the ID hanging from Eunseok’s lanyard, then looks at his tray. "Wow, Team Leader Song. But why are you doing the coffee run?"
Eunseok lets out a huffing laugh. "My juniors are currently buried under a 3D-rendering deadline. Besides," he leans in, "the client is currently in our conference room, explaining his golf tournament. I volunteered for this to escape."
Typical Song Eunseok. The only one who would do manual labor to avoid social obligation.
"You've changed, though," Sohee says, inspecting Eunseok head-to-toe. "You used to wear the same jacket but in three different colors in uni. You look expensive now. And you were always handsome, but since when did you get this handsome?"
Eunseok looks down at his cuff. "The jackets are in a landfill somewhere. My husband staged a wardrobe intervention when I was away on a site visit. He has this theory that these suits will help me getting my clients’ trusts, something about projected authority.”
"Husband?" Sohee’s brain stalls. "Hyung, you're married?"
"I work in the tall brick building," Eunseok says, ignoring the shock and nodding toward the window. “12th floor. You?"
"The new glass one right on the corner." Sohee frowns, looking out the window at the brick structure. "We’re literally neighbors?"
"Welcome to Seoul," Eunseok replies. "You can work twenty meters away from someone for a year and never actually know them. It’s a city of ghosts." He checks his watch. "Gotta go, the golf swing awaits. Here, hold my tray, and give me your phone."
Sohee hands it over. Eunseok opens Kakao, searches for his profile, and sends a dot.
"I’m buying you dinner in three days. Samgyeopsal. I’ll drop the pin."
---
On Friday night, Sohee rushes to open his umbrella as he leaves the office. It has been raining for the past two hours. The place Eunseok chose is a hole-in-the-wall tucked into an alleyway, which he reaches in fifteen minutes. Eunseok is already there, his tie tucked neatly between the buttons of his shirt, his beige suit jacket neatly folded, away from the smoke. He is already wielding the tongs.
"Sit," Eunseok says. He doesn’t look up from the grill. He is focused on three slabs of pork belly, waiting for the fat to turn translucent before flipping them.
"So," Eunseok starts, still watching the meat. "Taipei. Tell me why you’re back in this pressure cooker. And why now?"
Sohee reaches for a perilla leaf, preparing his base. "I worked two years there, hyung, after finishing the service. Maybe I just wanted to disappear into a city where nobody knew my name or was asking about my GPA. The company liked me, they offered me a permanent position there. But then, my parents started sending me photos of the cherry blossoms near their neighborhood. I started craving sundae-guk at 3 am."
He sighs, dropping a raw garlic clove onto the edge of the grill.
“They finally let me transfer to the Seoul branch three months ago. No moving allowance, no housing support. I didn't even get a raise, no, actually, with the rent and living costs, I basically took a pay cut to move back to my own country. It’s a joke. I’m in my late twenties, I have a degree from a top university abroad, and I live in an old apartment building with a stingy landlord. But I just wanted to come home. I’ve spent, what, almost nine years away from Seoul, since foundation? Between uni, then twenty months on and off the ship during service, and two very busy years in Taipei, I basically cut contact with most of my old friends. That’s not a normal human experience. It’s a pressure cooker, but it’s my pressure cooker, and I missed it, to say the least."
Eunseok nods as he flips the pork and snips it into rectangles. "Coming home is a luxury indeed, even if it's expensive. Been there."
"Speaking of expensive," Sohee says, gesturing with his metal chopsticks toward the window, where the rain is blurring the high-rise buildings. "I saw your firm’s name on the new cultural center near Han River. You're doing more than just well, aren't you? You're in a different league now."
"I designed the overall concept for the cultural center," Eunseok admits, dropping a piece of pork onto Sohee's plate. "Started building my portfolio during my day-offs in the service, joining international competitions and all, and saving the prize money for grad school. I finished my service on a Thursday, and by Monday morning, I was already working as a junior designer at the firm. The next year, I started attending a grad school for professionals in the evenings and Saturdays while working full-time. I was living like a zombie, didn’t have much time to do anything else and met any friends, back then, and as far as I remember, I haven't taken a vacation longer than three days in four years. Luckily the training hours paid off, I sat my exam last year and became a licensed architect. Like you are, I am also just recently coming back to humankind,” Eunseok explains.
“You’ve been grinding like crazy, hyung. That explains how different our living situations are now. And especially, the bespoke suit,” says Sohee.
“No,” Eunseok laughs, carefree. “The lifestyle is mostly the husband, I just sit there and look pretty." He drops a perfectly charred piece onto Sohee’s plate. "You need to eat a lot," Eunseok commands.
Sohee takes a bite, the savory fat hitting his palate. As he chews, his eyes drift to the thin gold band on Eunseok’s left hand. "About this husband of yours," Sohee starts. "You didn’t even tell me when you got married. I checked the old group chats, scrolled back three years, no announcements, no photos, nothing. What’s with the secrecy? Your Kakao profile is literally just Charlie’s close-up teeth. It looks like it was taken from a horror movie."
"Hey, Charlie is a handsome little guy," Eunseok defends, a small smile on his lips.
Eunseok then takes a sip of his water. His expression is unreadable. "We only registered," Eunseok says. "Almost two years ago. No ceremony, too tiresome, with our jobs and my master's. I would have combusted if I have to shake three hundred pairs of hands in three hours. The money we saved went straight into the down payment for the house. Plus, his family was going through something at the time. It would have been inappropriate."
"Is he an architect too? Is that how you met him?"
"No," Eunseok says, smiling. "But you know him.”
"I know him?” Sohee freezes. “Wait, is he from the university?"
Eunseok just smirks and goes back to the grill. "Anyway, how's the apartment? Why did you say your landlord is stingy?"
"The old fridge he provided in the apartment died," Sohee groans. "A little over a week ago. At this point that thing is a safety hazard so it’s probably for the best. But I’ve been living out of a cooler bag since then,” he explains. “Actually, I’m heading to the electronics store after this. If I have to eat one more lukewarm yogurt, I’m going to lose my mind."
Eunseok leans back, wiping his hands on a wet wipe. "I’ve spent more time in the appliance wing of Lotte Mart than I should. I’ll tag along. I need to look at humidifiers anyway."
---
The electronics store feels too bright and too chaotic for his liking. Sohee stands in front of a sleek four-door model and feels his soul leave his body at the price tag.
"Why is this so expensive?" Sohee whispers.
"Branding," Eunseok says, standing beside him with his hands in his pockets. "And 'smart' features. Look at this one, a screen on the door so you can watch YouTube while you get water. I don’t even understand."
Sohee groans. “I forgot how expensive it is to live in this city.”
"To be honest," Eunseok says, looking at the premium model next to them that has an ice maker as a star feature. "I regretted getting our spare fridge. When we moved, we thought we’d need it for hosting, but it is just a hazard for the utility bill. Zero hosting has happened so far, and we mostly order food online anyway. It’s currently holding one-week supply of my protein drinks and his skincare. How useless."
Sohee turns to face him slowly. "You have a spare fridge? This model? Hyung, I am literally suffering."
“Yeah.”
"Give it to me, hyung. I'll pay in installments. Preferably over the next ten years."
"I don't really care about the money," Eunseok says. "I’ve never been particularly attached to materialistic things. It’s just a box that keeps things cold, and we already have a perfectly working one."
"Then, give it to me? For free?"
"Maybe," Eunseok says, leaning against a wine cooler. “Are you still staying away from social media?”
“Yeah. It’s probably the only thing we still have in common, hyung, aside from gaming. I don’t need to compare other people’s success to mine any more than I already do.”
“Perfect,” Eunseok’s expression shifts playfully. This is the look he used to get right before he tricked me into doing house chores years ago, Sohee thinks. "You were asking about my husband. You have until we meet again in four days to guess who he is. A simple game, for that high-IQ brain of yours.”
“But that’s too easy. I’ll just google it and find out in less than half an hour.”
“And where’s the fun in that?” Eunseok says. "There are rules, of course. One, you get three suspects. You name them, and I’ll tell you if he's one of them. You were correct, by the way, he went to our uni as well.”
Sohee nods. “That’s easy, I’m already thinking of several names.”
“Two, no external help. No internet sleuthing. No lurking on social media, though good luck finding anything. No asking anyone, especially our mutual friends. If I find out you’re reaching out, the deal is off.”
“Hyung, you’re so mean! It’s 2026, it’s impossible not to use the internet,” Sohee protests.
“Use your memory, Sohee. Go way back to our uni days,” Eunseok’s cheeks are pink now, a sign that he is truly happy and satisfied. This man is still a menace to society, Sohee thinks.
Eunseok continues. "Three, you’re allowed to ask me three questions about my husband. No obvious questions like his name, ID number, shoe size, or height. You can ask about his character or habits, for example. Have some integrity, make this enjoyable for me too.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.”
"If you get it right, the fridge is yours. If you’re wrong, you’re treating us Hanwoo every time the three of us meet for the next three months."
“Wait, why does it have financial risk for me too?” Sohee shrieks.
“Our brains work the best when there are external threats,“ Eunseok says, raising his eyebrows. “Do you want the fridge or not?”
Sohee narrows his eyes, “And you’re paying for the movers, too?”
“Delivered and installed in your apartment.”
“Tch. Fine,” Sohee stretches out his hand. “Shake on it, hyung.”
---
"Go ahead. Who are your suspects, Detective Lee?"
Sohee begins pacing the aisle. "Suspect number one," Sohee says, "Osaki Shotaro."
"And why is that?”
“I think you have a lot of respect for him. You helped him win his campaign for the International Student Union. And with his background in economics, he probably works in finance now, that would pay for your suits. Also,” Sohee scrunches his nose, “I saw you two once, inside your room. He was sleeping on your lap. Hehe, sorry hyung.”
Eunseok laughs at Sohee’s confession but doesn't confirm or deny. "Next?"
"Number two," Sohee says. "Jung Sungchan."
"Reasoning?"
“You have been friends since high school. You were so comfortable with each other, you didn’t need to be anyone but yourself when you’re with him, you even spoke in telepathy, I think. He probably works in media now, that would explain the aesthetic. And remember those night walks that never made sense to me? Definitely suspicious.”
Eunseok stares at a row of washing machines. "It makes sense you’d think that. Third?"
“Park Wonbin."
Eunseok’s expression doesn’t change, the tone of his voice remains. "Because?"
“We never asked or told each other about these things, but weren’t you two dating in uni? You were always tucked away in the corner of the studio, speaking in soft tones in your own bubble. You have some of your gaming set in his flat. And you were pretty obsessed with hugging or touching each other, to say the least. You once told me he is probably the most handsome student our university has ever had.”
Eunseok hums as he inspects vacuum cleaners, ”I did say that.”
Still a silver stone, indeed, Sohee thinks. No confirmation nor denial, no change of expression, not a single clue.
"So?" Sohee asks. "Is any of those three your husband?"
Eunseok doesn't answer immediately. He walks over to a high-end humidifier and checks the price.
"Should probably get one of these," Eunseok quietly mutters to himself. "The air in his room is always so dry."
Sohee blinks. "His room? What do you mean his room? Do you sleep separately?"
Eunseok looks at him as if he’d asked if water was wet. "Of course. Sleep is important. I don't get mad often, but if my sleep is interrupted, my day is ruined, and I can be difficult. He knows that. You know that."
Sohee’s eyes go round. “That’s right. You once refused to talk to me for two days because I banged on your door in the morning to use your bathroom, when mine was flooded.”
Eunseok begins walking toward the exit. "Anyway, to answer your question. Yes, it's one of them."
Sohee stands in the middle of the appliance aisle. He has narrowed it down, but he realizes the real work just begins.
"Four days, Sohee," Eunseok calls out. "Text me your first question tomorrow."
---