Chapter Text
The crystal chandeliers in the banquet hall scattered light like crushed diamonds, glinting off everyone’s expensive suits and gowns.
Kim Mingyu stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, twirling a wine glass absentmindedly. Bubbles rose one by one up the glass, much like his unfocused thoughts.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?”
An investor beside him nudged him.
“You’re usually the most social one. Why are you acting like a marble statue?”
“Didn’t sleep well.”
Kim Mingyu forced a faint smile, but his gaze drifted past the crowd, landing on a figure in a dark gray velvet suit about fifteen meters away.
Jeon Wonwoo.
Founder and CEO of JeonCell.
The rising star in biopharmaceuticals over the past two years.
Rumors said he was more human inside the lab than outside; once he stepped out, he automatically switched into “social shutdown” mode.
Right now, he was surrounded by investors with academic backgrounds, nodding politely, speaking only occasionally. His voice was low and clear, with a subtle, unmissable sense of distance.
Kim Mingyu watched his cold composure and suddenly wondered how much force it would take to push this man out of control.
“Want to go say hi?”
Another friend, Lee Jihoon, approached with a glass, his tone teasing.
“I heard both of you made this year’s Forbes Asia 30 Under 30. Perfect topic for publicity. Your company’s PR team will love it.”
“Childish.”
Kim Mingyu scoffed, yet he walked over anyway.
When Jeon Wonwoo sensed someone approaching, his shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.
He turned and saw Kim Mingyu.
For three seconds as their eyes met, the noisy music, clinking glasses, and chatter in the banquet hall all fell silent, as if muted.
“Representative Jeon.” Kim Mingyu spoke first, a faint smile in his voice. “Seeing you this close for the first time… you look even more dangerous than in the news photos.”
Jeon Wonwoo blinked, as if quickly analyzing whether the remark was polite flattery or quiet provocation.
In the end, he chose the safest reply.
“You flatter me, Representative Kim.”
“Just call me Mingyu.”
Kim Mingyu took half a step forward, closing the distance so only the two of them could hear.
“After tonight, chances are we won’t need such formal titles anyway.”
Jeon Wonwoo’s Adam’s apple moved silently.
Their conversation lasted forty minutes.
They talked about CAR-T therapy, AI-driven drug screening, ethical boundaries, the fastest paths to commercialization, and even the wildest all-nighter experiments from their university days.
Three times in between:
Kim Mingyu deliberately brushed his fingertips against the back of Jeon Wonwoo’s hand holding the glass.
Jeon Wonwoo, when asked by others, subconsciously leaned half an inch closer to Kim Mingyu.
Kim Mingyu leaned down and whispered near his ear, “Representative Jeon… are you always this sensitive?”
Warm breath brushed his skin, like a small electric shock.
Jeon Wonwoo was no child. He understood exactly what the other man was implying.
By early morning, the banquet hall lights had dimmed to a warm yellow. Servers began clearing glasses, and the background music shifted to low, mellow jazz.
Hardly any guests remained.
Jeon Wonwoo leaned against the bar, his glass of white wine barely touched since the banquet began.
He stared at the slow-rising bubbles, mentally calculating whether his social costs for the night had exceeded expectations.
Kim Mingyu approached from the side and stopped an arm’s length away — close enough that the moving air carried each other’s body heat, far enough not to feel intrusive.
He ordered a whiskey on the rocks, his voice soft but clear enough for Jeon Wonwoo to hear.
“You don’t seem to have drunk much tonight, Representative Jeon.”
Jeon Wonwoo turned to him, his expression calm.
“Alcohol impairs judgment. I don’t like losing control.”
Kim Mingyu chuckled lowly, twisting his glass slightly as ice clinked gently against the glass.
“Is that so? Then why haven’t you left early?”
Jeon Wonwoo didn’t answer right away, only looking down at his wine glass.
Kim Mingyu didn’t push. After a quiet few seconds, he spoke again, sounding casual, but every word edged toward something ambiguous.
“I was just thinking… people like you rarely let yourself feel curious, do you?”
Jeon Wonwoo lifted his eyes. His eyelashes cast faint shadows under the light.
“Curious about what?”
Kim Mingyu’s lips curved slightly. His gaze dropped briefly to Jeon Wonwoo’s mouth, then slowly rose back to meet his eyes directly.
“Curious about what would happen… if tonight wasn’t just handshakes and small talk.”
Jeon Wonwoo’s breath caught for half a beat, but his face remained neutral. Only his Adam’s apple moved silently again.
“You have an interesting way of speaking, Representative Kim.”
His voice was steady, but a notch lower than usual.
“But I’m not used to taking hypotheticals seriously.”
Kim Mingyu’s smile widened. He set his glass on the bar, leaned forward slightly with both hands resting on the counter — still keeping that delicate, intentional distance.
“What if it’s not hypothetical?”
He paused, lowering his voice even more, like a secret shared only between them.
“For example… right now. The banquet’s over. My car is waiting downstairs. The elevator goes straight to the top-floor suite. No one will know. No one will ask.”
Jeon Wonwoo tapped his finger twice lightly against the stem of his glass, as if searching for a rhythm.
“Then what?”
Kim Mingyu’s eyes darkened. His smile held a dangerous edge.
“Then… it’s up to you whether you want to turn that curiosity into certainty.”
He paused, his voice growing rougher, issuing a raw invitation in the most restrained tone.
“I can promise you… after tonight, you won’t regret knowing the answer.”
Jeon Wonwoo finally lifted his head and looked straight at him. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes, as if he’d been burned, then quickly suppressed.
“You sound pretty sure I’ll say yes.”
Kim Mingyu shrugged, sounding relaxed but hiding an underlying pressure.
“Not at all. That’s why I’m asking.”
He moved another centimeter closer — not quite touching, just thickening the air, letting Jeon Wonwoo clearly feel his warm breath.
“Wonwoo… how many times did you look at me tonight?”
Jeon Wonwoo didn’t deny it. He only lowered his eyes, his voice soft.
“You were counting?”
“Mhm.”
Kim Mingyu murmured. “Every time you looked over and looked away quickly… your pupils dilated a little.”
Jeon Wonwoo’s breathing visibly faltered.
Kim Mingyu didn’t push further. He only held him with his gaze, waiting for an answer.
“So…”
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
“…want to go upstairs?”
He raised an eyebrow, obvious in his testing, in his coaxing.
“Or… you can turn around and leave right now. Pretend none of this was ever said.”
Jeon Wonwoo fell silent for a long time.
The air seemed to freeze, broken only by the distant clink of servers clearing glasses.
Finally, he lifted his eyes. The corners of his eyes were faintly flushed, as if stung by his own decision.
“…Where’s the elevator?”
Kim Mingyu’s eyes darkened instantly, a victorious smile slowly spreading across his lips.
He didn’t say another word, only turned sideways and gestured “after you,” letting Jeon Wonwoo lead the way.
They walked toward the elevator one after the other.
No physical contact. No more words.
The moment the elevator doors closed, their reflections appeared in the mirrored walls — standing straight, neither looking at the other.
Only their breathing, a little heavier than usual.
(To be continued)