IC C11

Chapter 11

After work, Kang Siwon prepared dinner at the dormitory.

Tonight’s menu was wonton noodles. He shaped each dumpling by hand, cooking them in patiently simmered broth.

Truthfully, wontons could be made in a far simpler way—store‑bought stock, frozen dumplings, five minutes, and done.

But Siwon preferred, even amidst his busy schedule, to cook everything from scratch. Not because he loved cooking, but because only then could he breathe.

At the stove, he could be “Chef Kang Siwon” again. For those moments he wasn’t “Cage Staff Xie Wei,” but his true self.

“Mmm…”

He sampled the bubbling soup, covered the pot, and checked the clock. It was already late enough that Lei Jun should be home. But today, he hadn’t returned.

“…Wontons taste awful if they sit too long.”

He muttered this, switching off the gas. If he’d known, he would have prepared something else.

The real reason he had chosen wontons tonight was guilt. He’d been curt with Lei Jun over the past two days, and this was his effort to apologize with good food. But the timing didn’t work.

In the end, he ate alone. Finished the dishes, tidied up. Still, no Lei Jun.

By then, midnight had crept past. As the clock’s hand edged toward one, Siwon glanced up at it and whispered,

“Does he have an appointment?”

Back when they first became roommates, Lei Jun would sometimes return very late as well. They hadn’t known each other then, so Siwon hadn’t thought much of it. The man had wide connections—surely he was simply meeting people.

Tonight, it must be the same, he told himself. Still, he kept stealing glances at the wall clock.

“….”

The later it grew, the more strange it felt. Lei Jun had never come back this late. Worry pinched at him: had something happened?

As a roommate, he considered reaching out—only to realize with a frown, he didn’t even have Lei Jun’s number.

Just then, the door lock beeped. Siwon shot upright in his chair.

“Xie Wei?”

The door swung open. Lei Jun walked in. His face had been blank until he noticed Siwon waiting; then, a flicker of surprise.

“You’re still awake?”

“Oh, just…”

He hedged. He couldn’t say outright that he’d been waiting. In truth, he hadn’t really meant to wait at all. He simply couldn’t sleep, and that had left him thinking about Lei Jun.

“You’re home late.”

“It’s nothing.”

“What happened? A meeting with coworkers?”

The words slipped out. Perhaps residual worry loosened his tongue. Lei Jun only smiled silently.

But his smile felt different tonight—gentle, yet drawing a clear line. Instinctively, Siwon realized not to probe further.

“Forget it, then. As long as it wasn’t anything serious.”

“Haha, were you worried about me?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

The words came out sharper than intended. Flustered, he added,

“We’re roommates.”

“Right. In this rough world, only roommates have your back.”

Lei Jun laughed it off. The strangeness in the air faded. Siwon exhaled in relief.

“I’ll wash up. Get some sleep.”

“Okay.”

Seeing him return unharmed, there was no reason to stay awake. Siwon retreated to the bedroom.

Two single beds stood side by side. He sank into the one on the right, the mattress firm yet soft beneath him.

Luxury had its perks. Other casino dorms crammed four people into bunks. Sovereign, true to its top‑tier hotel brand, allotted two to a room, each with his own bed. In honest comfort, it beat the shoebox studio he rented back in Korea.

“Haahm…”

Tired, past due for sleep. But exhaustion did not bring slumber. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and blinked into the dark.

From outside, running water. Soothing.

Soon, the water stopped. The door opened. A breath of clean soap drifted in with Lei Jun.

“Still awake, Wei?”

“…How’d you know?”

“Your breathing is different.”

He lay down in his own bed and asked. Awkwardly, Siwon admitted,

“Just… couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah. Nights like that happen.”

In the shadowed room, his voice sounded softer. Siwon fidgeted with his blanket, then suddenly asked,

“Lei Jun… earlier, what game were you playing? Looked like you were at the table with Zhang Yuren.”³

“…Zhang Yuren?”

“Don’t dealers remember patrons’ names? I mean, the guest you were with around 4:15.”

“4:15? You remember down to the minute? Got your eyes fixed on me, was it?”

“No, it was just coincidence—I happened to look at the clock then!”

“Haha. If it was 4:15, probably baccarat. Why? You close to this Zhang Yuren?”

“No. Just wondering. The man comes so often, I find myself curious.”

“Hm. True, he does show up often. I’ve dealt for him a few times. But Xiao Wei, how keen of you to remember so well, even without playing at the same table.”

“When you man the counter, you run into him a lot. Probably even more than you do. And he always exchanges only 10,000 chips. Hard not to notice.”

“Really? Plenty of guests like that?”

Lei Jun’s voice dipped with subtle undercurrent, though Siwon failed to catch it.

“Not plenty. Rare enough to stand out. Usually they mix in 25,000s or 100,000s instead.”

“Ah… right. As cage staff, you’d notice such things. Your memory’s sharp, Wei.”

“…Not so much.”

He knew he was good at remembering details, but saying it aloud embarrassed him.

“No, you are. Remembering even when Zhang Yuren arrived—impressive. Interesting, really.”

“People find you more interesting, surely.”

Lei Jun chuckled softly, neither agreeing nor denying. His laughter echoed faintly in the dark, like champagne bubbles rising through silence.

The next day, as they readied for work, Lei Jun’s phone buzzed.

“Yes.”

He lifted it to his cheek. Seconds later, his expression emptied.

“…”

Pretending to focus on his clothes, Siwon sneaked glances. Lei Jun didn’t always smile, but such stark, perfect absence of expression—this was new. On that finely cut face, the lack of feeling looked inhuman. Like porcelain covered in glass.

“…Understood. I’ll come immediately.”

The call ended. The atmosphere thickened strangely. Siwon hesitated, then asked,

“What happened?”

“Don’t be startled, Wei. But instead of work today, I’m going to the police station.”

“…What?”

Even with his warning, Siwon’s eyes flew wide.

“Why? Did you… get into some accident?”

“No. The incident was someone else’s. I’ve been summoned as a witness.”

“Someone else… who?”

“Zhang Yuren.”

The name was so unexpected, Siwon froze. Yesterday, he had seemed perfectly fine.

“Is that true?”

“On his way home last night, he died. Official cause is said to be a heart attack, but since it was sudden, anyone who had recent contact must be questioned.”

“…Ah…”

A hollow feeling spread. They hadn’t been close. Still, it shook him—seeing someone you knew suddenly dead.

And the phrase “those who last had contact” included him. He, too, had seen Zhang Yuren yesterday.

“Then… I…”

Fear struck—what if they called him too? What if identity checks exposed him? Jail would be instant.

“You’ll be fine. The management office didn’t call you, did they?”

“…No.”

“And besides, you only spent five minutes with him. I spent three hours at the table.”

Even then, Siwon stayed grim, making Lei Jun laugh softly.

“Come on, why the serious face, Xie Wei? You look like you’re the one going to the police station.”

“And you—how can you be so calm? Don’t you worry?”

As though the cold mask had never been there, Lei Jun smiled again. He had nothing to fear, same as Siwon. Even so, most would dread stepping into a police station. But he spoke like a man on a picnic.

“Just as a witness. They didn’t drag me in. I’m not being arrested. It won’t take long.”

“Then… good.”

“And hey, I even get a paid day off. Nice perk, isn’t it?”

He laughed brightly, but the cheer grated. The sight felt more wrong than his emotionless face.

“You say it like it’s fortunate… when someone died…”

His words trailed. Lei Jun’s eyes turned toward him. Black as glass, beautiful, empty. A shiver ran Siwon’s skin.

“People die, Wei. Everyone does.”

“…”

“Ah… was that not it?”

Lei Jun tilted his head as though correcting himself. His faint smile shimmered, lips faintly flushed.