DrinkyL C16

Chapter 16

 

For the first time in three weeks since he had started working at the hotel, Seolgu left work right on time at 5:30 p.m.

His colleagues, well aware of his habit of arriving early and staying late, looked surprised at his regular departure.

“Mr. Seolgu! Off already—no, you’re leaving on time today?”

“Yes, yes. I’m having a guest over at home.”

“Ah, you’ve got dinner plans! Enjoy and see you tomorrow!”

“Yes, have a good evening!”

Bowing politely to his coworker, Seolgu quickened his pace, humming to himself.

“Hm, hm-hmm, hmmm!”

The weather seemed especially bright and sunny that day. Of course, that was only because the sun was higher—he was leaving an hour earlier than usual—but even an obvious fact like that felt special.

As he waited for the bus, he unwrapped the tissue paper around his card. By now, he was quite skilled at wrapping and unwrapping it quickly, and he never forgot to replace it with a new one each day.

After all, it was a card given to him by Ban Dayeong, and he did his best to keep it clean.

Since it was just before rush hour, the bus wasn’t crowded. Seated comfortably, Seolgu tried to guess what would be on the dinner menu tonight.

Whenever he returned home after work, dinner was always waiting for him. Before starting at the hotel, he occasionally saw the people who came to prepare it, but it had been a long time since he’d last encountered them.

Still, he was thrilled that he wouldn’t be eating alone tonight. He hoped the food prepared matched Ban Dayeong’s tastes. There was plenty of rice in the cooker, so that shouldn’t be an issue, right?

Like a child inviting a friend over for the first time, his heart fluttered with excitement.

Once home, the very first thing he did was take a shower. Of course, he showered every morning and evening, but today he felt it deserved extra care.

Scooping generous foam onto his shower ball, he scrubbed meticulously from neck to toes. It took longer than usual, but since he’d left work early, he figured it was fine.

Yet, as always, reality hardly ever unfolds as planned.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, hair dripping, looking like a drowned mouse—Ban Dayeong was already sitting on the living room sofa.

“Ah—!”

A startled gasp escaped his lips.

Ban Dayeong turned toward the noise with mild irritation, only for his brows to knit tightly at the sight before him.

There stood Baek Seolgu, wrapped in nothing but a single towel barely clinging to his hips.

‘Does this kid have to be naked every single time I see him?’

Under the weight of Ban Dayeong’s burning stare, Seolgu had much the same thought.

‘Why does Mr. Ban only ever show up when I’m naked?’

Their uneasy gazes crossed.

Feeling the loose knot of his towel slipping, Seolgu clutched it tightly and lowered his head in shame.

“Hello.”

“Put some clothes on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Instead of returning the greeting, Ban Dayeong turned his head away, muttering,

“Damn it.”

The curse left his mouth like a suppressed growl. Baek Seolgu’s pale, slender body was perfectly outlined against the balcony’s glass door.

Tonight’s dinner dish was spicy braised short ribs.

Though Seolgu usually favored mild, plain tastes, the fiery flavor had an unexplainable addictiveness.

“Slurp—ha—slurp, ha!”

Never once in his long life had Ban Dayeong seen anyone eat so loudly and messily in front of him.

Yet, somehow, he didn’t find it entirely bothersome.

It was like watching some curious creature—primitive, unrefined, oddly fascinating. With a faintly sour expression, he observed Baek Seolgu.

“Slurp—ah, aren’t you eating?”

Noticing no movement from across the table, Seolgu paused mid-bite to ask.

Following his gaze, Ban Dayeong’s eyes dropped to his own plate—only one rib remained untouched.

“You sure ask quickly.”

“Oh, uh… slurp.”

Hurriedly wiping his sauce-stained fingers with a wet towel, Seolgu took up his chopsticks and offered the last piece to Ban Dayeong.

But the man merely looked at it and showed no intent to accept. His bowl of rice sat untouched, just as Seolgu had served it.

Seolgu’s eyes darted nervously. He couldn’t exactly spit out the food he’d already eaten, and it all felt very awkward.

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

Only then, when the rib trembled precariously between chopsticks, did Ban Dayeong ease his guilt slightly with that remark.

“Finished eating?”

Seolgu only nodded in response, and Ban Dayeong stood up without hesitation. The leftover rib piece returned to the dish, uneaten.

Like someone who’d committed a grave wrong, Seolgu quietly trailed after him into the living room, standing meekly nearby.

Ban Dayeong glanced at him and patted the seat beside him.

“My neck hurts. Sit down.”

Was it because he disliked being looked up at? Wanting to avoid offending him, Seolgu quickly took the spot next to him.

The problem was—he ended up much closer than planned.

Oh, heavens… were their thighs touching?

Eyes wide, Seolgu stared fixedly where their legs brushed.

“What are you staring at?”

“Your thigh.”

“My thigh?”

Ban Dayeong’s eyes followed his to the spot in question.

Well, the difference was striking—Baek Seolgu’s thighs were barely half the width of his.

“Well… where I grew up, we raised cows for farming,” Seolgu explained innocently, “and, um, your thighs… they’re about the same as a cow’s, honestly. It’s amazing.”

“Cow…?”

“Yes! You know, ‘moo~’ cows!”

He pressed his forefingers to his head, mimicking horns, and let out another cheerful “moo.” It was confirmation enough.

“…Ha.”

Not a horse, a bull? The pulsing vein on Ban Dayeong’s forehead gave his reaction away.

Life with Baek Seolgu had been nothing but a stream of firsts—and rarely pleasant ones.

“In that case, it’s rather fascinating how your thighs are thin enough to snap like twigs. Now, give me your hand.”

The unpleasantness made him almost childish.

Despite the chill in his tone, Seolgu smiled faintly and obediently held out his hand, heart pounding at the gesture.

Pop.

Without warning, Ban Dayeong’s sharp fangs pierced the thin skin of his fingertip. A sharp sting bloomed, fading quickly into the warm, ticklish sensation of a tongue gliding over the wound.

Seolgu bit his lip, determined not to let out any of those strange noises like last time. Just remembering how mortified he’d been then was enough to keep his mouth clamped shut, no matter how much he squirmed at the ticklish feeling.

Desperate to distract himself from the awareness of being fed upon, he forced his thoughts elsewhere—to tasty vegetables, forest squirrels, tomorrow’s weather forecast—anything at all to endure.

By the time he reached his twenty-second thought, he finally felt Ban Dayeong’s lips lift from his finger.

The spot, freed from his mouth, felt suddenly cold.

“D… done?”

His voice came tentative and small. What if the man said he intended to taste every finger next?

One finger was manageable—but if it meant all ten every time, there was no way he could endure that unscathed. Or quietly.

Oblivious to the worry flickering through him, Ban Dayeong said nothing, only rolling his tongue against his teeth as if savoring the aftertaste.

To Seolgu, it felt like wordless pressure to offer another finger. His fragile heart nearly shrank in on itself.

“Mr. Baek Seolgu.”

After some silence, Ban Dayeong finally spoke—not to answer, but to call his name.

Seolgu straightened his shoulders and nodded stiffly.

“Next time, wash your hands properly first.”

“Pardon?”

“Your blood tastes like short ribs.”

His neat brows furrowed in faint distaste.

At first, Seolgu didn’t understand—then realization struck, and he gasped in horror.

Come to think of it, after dinner he’d come straight to the living room, wiping his hands with just a wet tissue after gnawing on the ribs barehanded.

He brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed. The rich, sweet-spicy aroma of braised ribs filled his nostrils.

“Ahh… I’m sorry.”

Blood tinged with rib flavor—how bizarre that must have been. His head hung low with mortification at the thought of his unintended culinary invention.

“It’s fine. Just don’t do it again. It wasn’t bad, actually.”

The unexpectedly generous comment made Seolgu snap his head up—but the man was already gone.

Left alone, Seolgu’s lips drooped as he looked around the now-empty sofa and living room. He had wanted to tell him that he’d spent twice as long showering today just to prepare for dinner, but it seemed that would have to go unsaid.