Chapter Text
Han Young woke to the sharp ring of his alarm and, out of habit, reached for the adjacent pillow before even opening his eyes. Empty. The sheet beneath his palm was cold and smooth. It meant no one had slept there for many hours.
"Did Shin Jin stay out all night again?"
The heavy thought echoed habitually in Judge Lee’s mind.
Getting out of bed, he stepped into the empty corridor and headed toward the hallway. There, by the door, only his shoes stood neatly in place. Han Young exhaled loudly, feeling a dull irritation mingled with longing swell in his chest. He sank onto a kitchen chair and pressed his palms firmly against his face, trying to rub away the traces of insomnia and exhaustion.
It was now 2026.
Two years had passed since they had officially tied the knot. The first year of their marriage had seemed like a dream come true: quiet, steady, and filled with light. They had cherished every minute together, visiting parents and hosting friends.
But by the end of that first year, the idyll began to crumble rapidly. Shin Jin’s work began to consume him entirely, weekdays bled into weekends, and weekends into endless business meetings.
Even when at home, Shin Jin was constantly lost in thought, staying up well past midnight and staring through the walls. Han Young could see that some deep-seated anxiety was gnawing at his husband, but to every inquiry, the man merely gave a dry reference to "work issues." Judge Lee sensed intuitively that there was something more behind this facade than just work, but reaching his husband had become impossible.
A wall of unspoken words grew between them. Han Young tried to smooth over the rough edges and surround his partner with attention, but his own schedule often turned these efforts to ashes.
As a Supreme Court Justice in 2026, he carried far more obligations than he had in 2020.
The situation within the system had escalated to the breaking point after Judge Lim retired. This happened almost immediately after the tragic death of Baek Yi-seok. Now, Han Young stood alone as the sole bulwark for the integrity and righteousness of the judiciary. He had no one left among his colleagues whose shoulder he could lean on.
Only now, watching the chaos unfolding in the courts, did Lee Han Young fully realize the importance of such harsh, dominant personalities as Kang Shin Jin and Baek Yi Seok. They knew how to keep corrupt judges in check, maintaining balance through fear or authority. But it was too late. Baek Yi Seok had died in a ship explosion, and Han Young’s husband had been forced to abandon his name forever. He had been living under the identity of "Kang Seong Min" ever since he officially "perished" in the prison bomb detonation.
The power vacuum was quickly filled by others. Kim Jin Han became the new Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. His first order of business was lobbying for the appointment of his nephew, and thus Kim Yoon Hyuk also became a Supreme Court Justice. His uncle’s backing gave Yoon Hyuk a free hand; he became even bolder, even more unprincipled.
A "Kim Dynasty" had effectively taken reign over the Korean judicial system. Under their patronage, corruption and nepotism flourished, and Han Young could barely manage the onslaught alone.
Sitting in the absolute silence of his home this Friday morning, Han Young felt abandoned. The weight of responsibility for justice on a national scale and the burden of preserving family happiness within these walls pressed down on his shoulders like an impossible load.
Sometimes he wanted, with a painful intensity, to simply disappear for a week, to escape Seoul and lose himself in the arms of another person. Shin Jin no longer held him or kept him warm at night as he used to. This icy detachment from his husband was slowly, drop by drop, burning away the feelings that had nourished them at the start of their journey.
Judge Lee shook his head, driving away the heavy thoughts. He needed to take a shower, wash off this sticky loneliness, and get to work as soon as possible.
****
Shin Jin woke up in a hotel room. He stood up abruptly and, without wasting a second, began to get ready.
On the desk, an open laptop was still glowing, towering over stacks of endless papers and documents. He had spent the entire night working, sorting through backlogs that seemed inexhaustible.
President Woo Jae Gyeom had tasked him with overseeing the "Happy Town" project, a task that required extreme concentration. Shin Jin had been wrestling with this project for a week, and he hadn't slept at home once during that time.
Initially, he had tried to work at their apartment at the kitchen table late into the night, but Han Young constantly asked him to drop everything, go to bed, and rest. However, Shin Jin knew that time was pressing ruthlessly; he couldn't afford the luxury of sleep while the project was in its infancy. That was why he had been living in hotels for a week in the silence, where no one interfered with his grueling work. He didn't want to listen to Han Young's questions about business or, worse, be distracted by trivial domestic requests.
At the same time, Mr. Kang tried not to interfere in his husband’s judicial affairs. He knew Han Young’s proud, independent character too well and understood that any help might be perceived as an attempt to “dominate”. Judge Lee was irritated to his core by unsolicited advice or outside directives. Shin Jin remembered the few times his husband had snapped at him upon discovering that he had secretly tried to assist him with Supreme Court cases. Since then, Shin Jin had acknowledged his absolute autonomy and no longer pried into his professional life, leaving Han Young to handle his affairs alone.
Shin Jin quickly swept the papers into his briefcase, grabbed his laptop, and disappeared into the shower. When he emerged, he opened the closet, pulled out a fresh suit, and began to dress. But when it came time to tie his necktie, his hands froze.
His gaze fell on the silk fabric, and in that same second, a vision from the past flashed before his eyes: Ping-er, carefully draping a tie around his neck. He remembered how slowly and reverently Li Ping had tied the knot, all while trying to maintain a mask of cold composure, as if the proximity of his mentor didn't make his heart race at all.
That was two years ago, but Shin Jin could clearly see every detail: Li Ping's focused gaze, his shallow breath, and that same frantic heartbeat. He also remembered the younger man’s burned hand. There were massive scars left after Ping-er had shielded him from the flames following the fateful prison explosion.
Two years had passed since their farewell at the airport. Kang Shin Jin still remembered how desperately he hadn't wanted his protégé to return to Hong Kong, how he had feared for him, and how he had suffocated with guilt, realizing he was the cause of Li Ping’s endless suffering. That guilt had never left. It continued to slowly erode him from within throughout their entire separation. Not a day went by that he didn't think of him.
The fact that Li Ping had not flown to Korea once in two years to see him echoed in his heart with an inexplicable, aching pain. Previously, Ping-er had always found both the time and a reason to visit his mentor in Seoul; now, he didn't even call. He either didn't answer Shin Jin’s calls at all or responded with pointed coldness.
Mr. Kang considered that Li Ping might be harboring a grudge, but even if that were the case, such a sharp shift in their "mentor and protégé" relationship was agonizing.
In 2024, when Li Ping had eliminated Cho Seong-Hoon and Mari to save him, Shin Jin had made a risky maneuver. He had framed everything so that North Korean intelligence would believe in Colonel Cho’s betrayal, claiming he had actually been working for South Korea all along. To make it convincing, he had even involved President Woo in the scheme.
To obtain this favor from the head of state, Shin Jin had to accept Woo Jae Gyeom’s offer and become his advisor, despite his own reluctance and Han Young’s clear displeasure.
It was the only way to keep his protégé safe: if Cho Seong Hoon was a traitor, the North would not waste resources to liquidate Zhang Li Ping, who, in their eyes, had merely eliminated an "internal problem."
Although the advisor's job was exhausting and often unpleasant, Shin Jin never for a second regretted the sacrifice for Ping-er’s safety. Not even despite the chasm that had opened between them after his departure for Hong Kong.
Shin Jin stood for a few more minutes, staring into nothingness and clutching the tie in his hand. Then, as if snapping out of it, he shoved it into his pocket and hurriedly left the room.
****
When Lee Han Young crossed the threshold of the courthouse, he instantly sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Dozens of piercing stares fixed upon him, followed by muffled whispers.
Colleagues, spotting him, immediately looked away and continued their low-voiced conversations. Unsure of what had caused such a stir, he headed toward his office, but a surprise was waiting for him inside.
Kim Yoon Hyuk was sitting in his chair, lounging regally. When the room's owner entered, the man didn’t even think of standing up. He merely smirked and spread his arms wide, as if welcoming a guest into his own home.
— Oh, you’re finally here, Judge Lee! — he drawled mockingly. — I thought I’d have to wait for you forever.
— What are you doing in my office, Judge Kim? — Han Young snapped, drilling him with an icy stare.
— Your office? — Yoon Hyuk mimicked surprise, which quickly dissolved into a sneering grin. — I’m afraid you have the wrong door. Yours is now at the very end of the hall.
— What? — Han Young asked, not believing his ears.
— They must have forgotten to notify you, — Yoon Hyuk replied lazily, leaning even further back into the chair. — In the interest of space optimization, a decision was made: judges with low workloads move to smaller offices, and those swamped with work move to more spacious ones. So, as of today, this is my office.
Han Young felt anger boiling inside him. He wanted to fire back with something sharp and caustic, but he stopped himself in time, maintaining his composure. Instead of arguing, he silently moved toward the cabinet to collect his things.
— Don’t bother, — Kim Yoon Hyuk called out to his back. — Your things have already been packed and moved to the new location.
Han Young turned sharply and headed for the exit, struggling not to snap.
— Good luck, Lee Han Young! — the voice trailed after him. — I hope you enjoy your new "nest."
The voice dripped with undisguised triumph. Kim Yoon Hyuk was literally intoxicated by his power and impunity, relishing the opportunity to publicly humiliate a man who had once been untouchable.
Stepping into the corridor under the sympathetic and occasionally malicious gazes of the staff, Han Young walked to the very end of the dead-end hallway, where a modest plaque with his name hung on a door. Inside, a cramped space without a single window awaited him. A dim lamp barely cut through the gloom, exposing bookshelves covered in thick dust, an old cabinet, and a small desk.
The room smelled of dampness, and in the far corner, Han Young noticed a patch of black mold. Boxes of his documents were piled directly on the desk.
It was obvious no one had worked here for years. Han Young called a janitor to wash the floor, then, rolling up his sleeves, he dampened a rag himself and began wiping a century’s worth of dust off the furniture. Once the cleaning was finished, he methodically arranged his folders and books on the shelves and sat down to work.
During the lunch break, Kim Yoon Hyuk’s words about a “low workload” were confirmed, but in the most bitter sense. After questioning colleagues, Han Young discovered he was the only one subjected to "relocation." All the other Supreme Court Justices remained in their places. Furthermore, in the cafeteria, he noticed people trying to sit as far away from him as possible, as if Judge Lee’s bad luck were contagious.
Lee Han Young understood the underlying motive perfectly.
Last Monday, during a session, he had been the only one to openly oppose the new rules Chief Justice Kim Jin Han was trying to implement. Despite the fact that the Chief Justice himself never raised his voice and remained pointedly polite, his colleagues had instantly sensed the changing winds. They began to shun Han Young, fearing they would draw the leadership's displeasure upon themselves. From that moment, he had become an outcast within his own walls. He knew that fighting systemic injustice would eventually make him persona non grata, and he was prepared for it.
But reality proved far more mundane and petty. High-profile, significant cases were distributed among everyone but him. Han Young was dumped with all the boring paperwork, forcing him to spend his nights in the archives. Meanwhile, Kim Yoon Hyuk took over cases involving chaebols and influential corporations, handing down verdicts in favor of the wealthy. Han Young saw how Chief Justice Kim Jin Han turned a blind eye to this, patronizing his nephew.
Only one thing restrained Judge Lee: Kim Jin Han was an old friend of Shin Jin. It was out of respect for this friendship that Han Young had not yet attempted to expose the Kim family's corruption scheme. He endured it, teeth clenched. But the cup of his patience was already full to the brim.
Returning to his tiny, damp-smelling office after lunch, he buried himself in documents. He desperately did not want to stay here overnight, so he silenced his thoughts, focusing entirely on the dry lines of the legal papers.
*****
In the evening, exhausted and completely demoralized by the day's events, Han Young got into his Mercedes. In the silence of the cabin, punctuated only by the steady hum of the engine, he drove to his residential complex. After parking the car, he stepped out and immediately looked up at the windows of their apartment. The dark voids of the glass met him. No lights were on.
— He’s not home again, — the thought echoed with its usual bitterness.
In an instant, his exhaustion flared into burning irritation and resentment. Judge Lee’s patience, already worn thin throughout the day, finally snapped.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed his husband’s number, listening to the endless ringing.
At that moment, Shin Jin was at Suojae. The meeting had just concluded in triumph: the presentation of the "Happy Town" project had gone perfectly. Woo Jae Gyeom and the ministers, talking animatedly, were raising glasses of champagne and showering Shin Jinwith praise.
Feeling the persistent vibration in his pocket, he stepped aside. Seeing the name "Lee Han Young" on the screen, he exhaled a heavy sigh and, without hesitation, hit "decline" before returning to his guests. He was in no mood for family scenes right now.
President Woo, noticing his detachment, approached Kang Shin Jin and whispered:
— Seong Min, tell me honestly: are you sure the residents of that district will give up their land? There are over a thousand people there. They were born there; their entire pathetic lives have been spent in those shacks. People like that can be very stubborn.
Shin Jin looked him straight in the eye and replied in a cold, barely audible whisper:
— Do not worry, sir. Regardless of their wishes, I will make them agree. You will have those lands. You need not fret over it.
This steely confidence delighted Woo Jae Gyeom. He burst into laughter and, placing a proprietary hand on Shin Jin’s shoulder, said:
— You know, I hesitated about whether I should help you with your friend, Mr. Zhang. I thought the trouble would be for nothing. But you’ve proven me wrong. In 2024, by advising me to bet on An Hyun-Joon, you helped me maintain control over the country even after my presidency ended. That weakling Ahn is afraid to open his mouth without my approval; he literally crawls before me, even if he is nominally the President. I didn’t give you the name "Seong Min" for nothing! You are worthy of being my advisor. With you, I will become the most influential man in the country. Listen, I wanted to ask...
He didn't have time to finish — the phone in Shin Jin’s pocket vibrated again. Woo Jae Gyeom paused for a second, then nodded graciously:
— Answer it. It must be something important.
Shin Jin offered a brief apology and stepped out of the hall. The moment he pressed the accept button, he snapped nervously into the receiver:
— WHAT?! Why do you keep calling? I’m busy!
Han Young, standing in the parking lot and leaning against the hood of his car, flared up at the sharp tone:
— Why are you shouting at me? You’re not home again! Do I not have the right to worry about my own husband? Or have you forgotten that we are a married couple?
Shin Jin exhaled sharply, covering his eyes with his palm. His harshness immediately gave way to exhaustion, and his voice softened:
— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. I’ve just barely slept lately. There's a lot of work... I’m drained.
Han Young remained silent for a moment, cooling down, before asking firmly:
— When are you finishing? I’ll pick you up.
— Through half an hour everything will be over. But don’t bother, the driver will take me, — Advisor Kang tried to protest.
— No arguments! — Judge Lee cut him off authoritatively. — I’m picking you up from work myself. Send me the address.
He hung up without waiting for a reply. Shin Jin stood in indecision. Sending the actual address of Suojae was a bad idea. Han Young hated that place: in his past life, he had done everything to destroy Suojae as a hotbed of corruption, eventually sending Shin Jin behind bars. The very name was associated with moral decay in the judge’s mind.
Realizing this, Shin Jin sent him the geolocation of a random business center a few blocks away. Now he had to make sure he got there before his husband.
Quickly saying his goodbyes to the President, he jumped into his car and ordered the driver to go at full speed.
He arrived at the spot just in time. Dismissing the driver, Shin Jin stood at the entrance, feigning a wait. A few minutes later, Han Young’s Mercedes braked nearby. Shin Jin got into the passenger seat, buckled up, and they drove off.
The rain began. Large drops drummed steadily against the roof. For about twenty minutes, they drove in a heavy, oppressive silence.
Han Young was the one to break it. Without taking his eyes off the road, he spoke softly but clearly:
— Shin Jin, be honest with me. Is there someone else in your life? Some young lover on the side?
Advisor Kang was momentarily speechless. Gathering himself, he asked:
— What makes you think that?
— You don't show me any affection anymore. You don't sleep at home. We haven't had sex in ages, — Han Young listed bluntly, without beating around the bush. — We don't even have dinner together like we used to. I feel like you’re avoiding me.
Shin Jin remained silent, watching the raindrops racing down the glass, before replying:
— I’m not cheating on you, Han Young. I’m just buried in work.
Instead of answering, Han Young jerked the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to the shoulder. He killed the engine.
— Get out, — he ordered curtly.
— What? — Shin Jin didn't understand.
— I said: get out of the car! — Judge Lee repeated loudly, gripping the wheel.
Shin Jin obediently stepped out into the rain. Han Young swiftly rounded the vehicle and, approaching his husband, flung open the back door.
— Get inside. Now! — he commanded in a tone that brooked no argument.
As soon as Shin Jin was in the cabin, Han Young dove in after him and locked the doors. While Advisor Kang watched him in bewilderment, Han Young stripped off his jacket and pushed him onto the back seat. In the next heartbeat, he had straddled his hips.
Mr. Kang felt his husband’s clear arousal and couldn’t help but smirk at the absurdity of the moment.
— What the hell are you doing? — he whispered.
— Taking what is legally mine, — Han Young responded, beginning to move his hips slowly, creating an unbearable friction between their bodies.
The next minute, Judge Lee pressed against his husband’s lips, covering them in a passionate, demanding kiss. Wasting no time, he quickly unbuckled the belt and lowered the zipper on Shin Jin’s trousers. His palm slid confidently beneath the fabric, caressing his partner's intimate zone, and under the persistent movements, Shin Jin’s body soon responded: he began to harden rapidly.
Feeling his arousal, Han Young smiled triumphantly. He was about to go for the shirt buttons but suddenly froze, noticing a strange detail: the collar was open, and the neck was bare.
— Shin Jin, where is your tie? — he asked, breaking the caress. — You never take it off.
Shin Jin remained silent, looking away. In the silence of the car, the question hung like a heavy weight, but Han Young decided not to dwell on this detail. For now, desire was stronger than suspicion. He began to confidently unbutton his husband's shirt one by one until Shin Jin suddenly caught his wrists, stopping him.
— Maybe we should stop? — he whispered almost against Han Young’s lips. — We’re in the middle of the street. If someone sees us like this... it will be embarrassing.
— No one will see us. Don't worry, — Han Young said quickly, completely losing his self-control to the excitement.
He resolutely pushed his husband's hands away and finished unbuttoning the shirt at a feverish pace. Leaning into the hot skin, he began to cover Shin Jin’s body with kisses, descending from the neck to the navel. Advisor Kang found his underwear unbearably tight, and when Judge Lee pulled it down, freeing the tense cock and continuing to stroke it with his hand, Shin Jin took a sharp, ragged breath.
Han Young lowered himself further and finally closed his lips around his dick, pleasuring him with rhythmic, deep movements. When he took it particularly deep, Shin Jin couldn't take it anymore and ran his fingers through his husband’s hair, gripping it tightly, and let out a long moan, throwing his head back:
— Han Young... please... keep going...
Judge Lee obeyed. He impatiently took his husband's cock and pushed it deep into his throat, nearly choking on the rush of adrenaline and lack of air. He loved driving this stubborn, perpetually cold and guarded man insane. At one point, he began to slow down intentionally, mockingly dragging out every movement, but Shin Jin’s patience was not limitless.
Advisor Kang firmly gripped the back of his husband's head and began to thrust himself, insistently and dominantly, practically fucking his throat. Han Young was caught off guard by this sudden roughness at first, but immediately relaxed, allowing Shin Jin to take him however he wanted.
The realization that Shin Jin wanted him again, so fiercely and greedily after months of estrangement, filled Han Young with jubilant delight. With one hand, he began to stroke his own cock while his mouth continued to drive his partner wild, taking in every pulsing thrust.
As the peak of pleasure drew near, the silence of the cabin was suddenly shattered by a sharp, insistent rap on the glass.
Shin Jin flinched and immediately released his fingers from the back of his husband's head, trying to pull away, but Judge Lee reacted differently. He clamped onto his partner’s hips with a death grip, pinning him in place, and only accelerated the pace, working his lips even more fiercely.
Caught between the brink of orgasm and panic, Shin Jin gasped for air, trying to force out a word:
— Han Young... stop... wait... there's...
But Judge Lee ignored everything around him. He had waited too long for this moment, endured his husband's coldness and detachment for too long. He wasn't about to give up his cherished intimacy and rightful pleasure just because some random passerby decided to interfere.
The knocking on the window grew louder, turning into demanding thuds. It was followed by the stern voice of a patrol officer:
— I know you're inside, sir. Patrol police. Please respond!
At the very moment Han Young took him in as deep as possible for the last time, Advisor Kang finished. He came right into Han Young’s throat, his whole body shuddering. Swallowing every drop, Judge Lee immediately finished himself, staining both his clothes and his husband’s trousers with hot spray.
Breathing heavily, Judge Lee finally pulled away. A satisfied, triumphant smile played on his face. He had gotten what he came for.
In such a disheveled state, with flushed cheeks and a moist glint in his eyes, he pressed the button. The glass slid down smoothly, and Han Young, carelessly fixing his hair, poked his head out into the night rain and the light of a police flashlight.
— I'm listening... — Han Young squinted, trying to read the name on the badge in the dim light. — Police Officer Lee Dong Shik.
Officer Lee gave a polite but routine smile and directed the flashlight beam into the cabin, trying to see the second passenger. Shin Jin immediately covered his face with his palm from the harsh light, retreating into the shadows.
The policeman turned his gaze back to Han Young.
— Please present your driver's license and ID.
Han Young reached for the glove compartment, pulled out the documents, and handed them to the officer. The officer studied the cards carefully, holding them closer to the light, and then addressed the driver again:
— And now, please present your friend's documents.
Judge Lee tilted his head slightly, his eyes flashing dangerously.
— And what for? Do you suspect us of something, officer?
— Mr. Lee, I ask you not to ask unnecessary questions and just comply with my request, — Lee Dong Shik cut him off sharply, clearly not in the mood for a discussion.
— Don't, Han Young. It's fine, — Advisor Kang’s low voice came from the back seat.
He lowered the window on his side and handed over his ID. Officer Lee stared at Shin Jin’sface for a long time, looking back and forth between the document and the living man, and suspicion appeared in his eyes.
— Mr. Kang Seong Min... You bear a striking resemblance to the late Supreme Justice Shin Jin. I’d say a spitting image! Joo Won, come over here! Look at this man, — Officer Lee called to his partner.
Han Joo Won approached slowly, cast a brief glance at Shin Jin, and looked questioningly at his partner. Dong Shik took him by the elbow and led him a few steps away from the car, switching to a whisper:
— You remember that emergency report two years ago? Shin Jin’s address to the nation? This man is his double. But his name is Kang Seong Min. Don't you find that strange? What if he didn't die in prison explosion and is now walking around with fake documents? That’s a serious crime.
— So he looks like him, so what? — Joo Won replied with a smirk. — People look alike all the time. It doesn't mean every other person is a resurrected dead man with a fake passport. Dong Shik, you're getting paranoid.
— And what if they’re drug dealers? — Lee Dong Shik persisted. — Think about it: parked on the shoulder in the middle of the night. Cheeks flushed, ears red, eyes shining, pupils dilated... They’ve clearly taken something!
Joo Won could barely suppress a chuckle, covering his mouth with his palm. He leaned close to his partner’s ear, touching his forearm.
— Officer Lee, they were busy with something else... — he whispered. — A blush and dilated pupils don't just come from drugs. For example, when two lovers are selflessly indulging in carnal pleasures in a car...
Lee Dong Shik immediately turned beet red, recoiled from him, and frowned:
— What nonsense are you talking! I’m telling you, something is fishy here.
Han Joo Won only smiled and placed a patronizing hand on his colleague's shoulder.
— Officer, you missed something. Look at their hands. They have matching wedding rings.
— What makes you think they're matching? — Dong Shik asked, surprised.
— Did you forget I come from a fairly wealthy family? — Joo Won laughed softly. — I’ve seen those at a Bulgari boutique. They’re just a married couple who decided to add a spark to their daily life. Let’s leave them alone, you’ve already ruined their moment.
Confused, Lee Dong Shik nodded and returned to the car. Handing the documents back along with a written fine, he spoke curtly:
— Sorry for the trouble, gentlemen. I approached because you parked in a restricted area. Do you see the 'No Parking' sign? Don't forget to pay the fine on time. Have a pleasant evening.
The policeman gave a short bow and walked away toward the patrol car.
Han Young exhaled in relief, feeling the adrenaline slowly leave his body. He turned to his husband:
— Well then... shall we finally go home?
Shin Jin snorted tiredly, adjusting his clothes:
— Where else? I don't even have the strength left for talking.
Judge Lee started the engine, and the Mercedes moved off smoothly, dissolving into the rainy Seoul night.