Chapter Text
“I’m clocking off for the day.”
Phew. That was probably the most beautiful sentence Minseok has heard and said himself in a year.
He’s finally having his precious vacation! It’s a rare opportunity for someone as occupied as him.
People might be wondering what kind of job could make a person this desperate for a few days off. Well…
…A mafia syndicate member, if he wants to make it sound cool and eccentric. Though it’s a bit cliche and doesn’t quite capture the reality of the work. Gangster, if he wants to be blunt and simple—but doesn't that sound a bit too barbaric and unidgnified? In the Korean underworld, their business requires a delicate equilibrium of finesse and ruthlessness. That is exactly what he and his brothers-slash-coworkers have been providing.
Business, the general way of saying it.
Blood and money are the main part of their trade. And dealing with both is far more exhausting than any so-called normal job, especially considering Minseok happens to hold the second most important position in their… “business.”
Being the right-hand man to Lee Sanghyeok—the man known throughout the underworld as the Unkillable Demon King—means Minseok has a reputation to maintain. He’s technically supposed to stay behind the desk, acting as a handler/strategist/ advisor.
But unfortunately(or fortunately to their organization), Minseok is an acute perfectionist.
He really can't stand watching people act like idiots in real time, especially when they’re representing Sanghyeok’s name. So, more often than not, he ends up in the field, handling the execution himself.
It makes his job much harder than it’s supposed to be—which is why this rare moment for leisure and freedom means a lot to him.
“Don’t call me unless someone’s dying.” Minseok says again. But then he winces, rethinking that. "Wait, scratch that. Don't call me unless someone in the inner circle is dying. Anyone else can just go ahead and meet their maker. I need my day off undisturbed."
The secretary he’s talking to, Kwon Hyeji, only laughs. “No date plans for your big vacation?”
Minseok scoffs. “Of course I have plans. I have a date with my beautiful wife, Seraphine. We’re going to climb all the way to master starting from tonight.”
Hyeji rolls her eyes. “You and your League obsession. I’ll never get it. With those looks and all that money, you could easily get some handsome guy to take you on an actual romantic date.”
Minseok rolls his eyes right back at her.
“I’m done with men. In 3D girls I trust.”
She sighs dramatically, already defeated.
“Fine. But once I finally get my day off, I’m dragging you with me for a spa day.”
“Sure, girl. Sure.”
Minseok was supposed to have a peaceful morning. That was the original plan.
He’d spent the entire night grinding elo, and now all he needed to do was stock up on groceries for another few days of climbing.
But then, on his way back to his bike, he passes through an odd looking man in black jacket. Then he catches a familiar scent. Gunpowder.
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
Minseok really hates himself for being this nosy, but he still can’t resist tailing the man, which eventually leads him into the parking section of the building.
The man in black stops behind a concrete pillar and mutters something into the collar of his jacket.
Minseok misses most of it, but one word comes through clearly enough.
Prince?
He nearly snorted. Who uses a code name that lame in 2026? Is this a code to refer to someone, or a specific protocol?
Either way, they’re probably from a rival organization handling some kind of covert transaction. Minseok stays hidden behind a parked car, waiting for any movement.
A moment later, a guy in a baggy grey hoodie wanders into the parking lot, carrying not a suitcase usually associated with money drops, but a simple black backpack and a grocery bag. He’s got the hood pulled up and looks like a totally normal guy. A college student, perhaps. Minseok relaxes for a split second, thinking the guy is just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But then the man in black moves. Wait. There are 5 of them emerging from different corners of the lot, all converging toward the exact same target.
What the hell? Minseok’s jaw tightens.
Should he really meddle? He doesn’t even know the guy, and getting involved in stuff like this could stir up unnecessary trouble for his own organization.
Minseok looks at the guy again—the guy who clearly does not look like a prince at all with that fit but is somehow their target—who is now being hauled into a black sedan. He tries to fight back, but five large bulky guys are obviously far too much for someone untrained. From the way he moved earlier, he clearly doesn’t look like he knows how to handle himself in a fight.
No matter how Minseok looks at it, this is obviously a kidnapping attempt. And judging by the setup, he’s already starting to form a hypothesis he really doesn’t want to be right about.
Organ trafficking. A healthy young guy like that would be worth a fortune.
Shit. This is the second thing Minseok hates most about himself. Despite spending years working in the greyest area of the underworld, some stupid soft spot inside him still refuses to die. Because now all he can think about is how a clueless-looking guy like that could end up zipped into coolers and medical bags within the next few weeks—and how Minseok would’ve just stood there and watched it happen.
A heavy sigh escaping his lips. Great. So much for his quiet morning. He really should have stayed in bed.
Well?
As long as he doesn’t kill them, it probably won’t kick back to the family, right?
“Excuse me, sir,” Minseok calls out as he steps closer, hands still tucked casually into his pockets while his fingers tighten around the grip of his weapon. “What exactly are we doing here?”
The lead suit bristles, blocking Minseok's path. “Back off, citizen. We’re just escorting him home.”
The guy speaks Korean but with a strange accent. Foreigners? Great. That only makes Minseok’s organ trafficking theory feel even more plausible.
Minseok leans slightly to the side, peering past him into the car.
The guy in the grey hoodie is staring back, eyes wide above the black face mask covering the lower half of his face. Up close, Minseok realizes the guy—the boy looks even younger than he first thought.
As for his expression, it’s hard to make out much in the murky car interior, but Minseok’s sharp gaze catches the slightest nod from him—as if silently begging Minseok not to walk away.
“Highly doubt it,” Minseok says, turning his attention back to the man blocking him. “The boy you’re ‘escorting’ doesn’t exactly look thrilled to be going home.”
The men begin speaking to each other in a language Minseok is now pretty sure is Mandarin. Chinese gang? What the heck are they doing here?
Two of the men start approaching him, shifting their posture into what Minseok recognizes immediately. Combat stance.
Here we go again.
With a flick of his wrist, he slips his retractable baton out from his pocket—it immediately extends with a sharp clack. He catches the way the men’s eyes sharpen at the sight of it—then their expression shifts the moment they recognize what it is. One of them eventually scoffs.
They’re clearly underestimating him.
Oh. So that’s how this is going to be.
“I’m sorry, sir. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I’m a little too familiar with this line of work,” he says, testing the weight of his weapon. “You’re definitely going to need to prep a very creative apology for your boss.”
He swings the baton to his side, and the metal whistles through the air.
“That is… if you’re still breathing by the time I’m done.”
The closest man lunges with a grin, and just like that, Minseok’s supposed-to-be peaceful day off officially turns into a bloodbath.
Minseok is no idiot.
These men are easily around 185 cms with broad, heavy frames, while Minseok is significantly smaller—nearly 20 cm shorter than most of them.
People tend to underestimate him because of that. Which is exactly what makes it useful.
They see someone easy to overpower. Someone they can crush through sheer size alone. What they fail to realize is that Minseok is usually the most ruthless person in the room.
He doesn’t need brute strength to break people apart. Why use that when Minseok has everything around him? He scans around the area, every potential corners and objects he can utilize.
In a fight, the brain is a weapon just as deadly as muscle.
And Minseok knows exactly how to use it.
The first guy tries to use his reach to pin Minseok against a concrete pillar. Clearly a dumb move. Minseok narrows the gap, ducking his head down to step inside the man's guard. He drives the tip of his baton into the guy’s solar plexus, and as the man doubles over, he uses the staggering body as leverage, stepping onto the man’s thigh before kicking off the pillar beside them for extra force to launch himself upward and slams his baton into the man’s head.
Crack. Minseok twists aside the moment he lands, narrowly avoiding the spray of blood bursting from the man’s mouth.
One down. Shit. Minseok really should be careful. If he gets a single drop of blood on his favorite sweatshirt, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.
The other men finally realize they aren't dealing with a normal "citizen." One of them charges at him with a roar. Wait. Where’s the other one?
With his instincts kicking in, Minseok crouches low to evade the first lunge, then uses that low angle to drive the steel tip of his baton into the attacker's kneecap. Thwack. As the man screams, Minseok grabs him by the belt and—
(Thank God he realized it when he did. Had it been even a millisecond later, his ribs would’ve been pulverized. Because the second man was already behind him, swinging a kick.)
—hauls the man up to use as a human shield.
The attacker from behind can’t pull the kick in time, and—another thwack! His heavy boot connects squarely with his partner’s kidney.
The human shield screams in pain.
Holy shit. Minseok can’t believe such a cartoonish scene is actually happening. He would’ve laughed his ass off if he weren't the one currently living it—but he needs to make his next move. Quick.
Naturally, Minseok doesn't waste the opening.
Using all the force in his body, he shoves the screaming man straight into the second attacker, sending both of them stumbling backward into a row of parked bikes.
As they struggle to regain their footing, Minseok snatches a heavy U-lock hanging from one of the handlebars.
The first man recovers quickly and throws a punch at him, but Minseok intercepts it halfway, parrying the strike with his baton on his left hand.
Then, with his other hand, he swings the metal lock like a flail.
The impact lands hard against the side of the man’s head—another crack followed by a spray of crimson paints the asphalt. It luckily misses Minseok’s sleeves by a few centimeters.
Shit. That was close.
Two down. The man collapses, eyes rolling back as he slumps against a concrete pillar.
The second attacker, seeing his partner’s head bounce off the pavement, loses his cool. He pulls a folding knife. Minseok scoffs. "Really? A knife?"
He steps back until his spine meets the cold frame of a parked sedan.
As the man lunges, Minseok sidesteps sharply and yanks the car door open. The edge slams straight into the man’s reaching arm with a loud impact. His knife flies from his hand, clattering away—but Minseok isn’t finished.
He kicks the man’s leg out from under him, forcing him face-first onto the hood of the sedan. Minseok grabs the man’s head and, without hesitation, slams it into the corner of the windshield with all his strength. Its glass fractures instantly, spiderwebbing across the surface as the dark crimson from the man’s forehead spills down between the cracks.
Three down. Minseok steps back while the man slowly slides off the hood and collapses onto the ground. That’ll need a few stitches.
He looks down at his sweatshirt, meticulously inspecting the cuffs. Still clean, thank god.
“Hái lèng zhe gàn ma?! Bēng le tā! Bǎ qiāng gěi wǒ!”
From behind, one of them screams in Mandarin. Minseok doesn’t understand the whole sentence, but he catches the word Chinese syndicates often use for a ‘gun’ and his entire body snaps into alert.
His blood runs cold as he hears the distinct, synchronized click of guns being racked.
“—-!!”
"Shit," he hisses, quickly diving behind a thick concrete support beam just as two muffled bullet sounds spit through the air, hitting a pillar’s edge, carving out chunks of its concrete that sends stone dust into his hair.
Minseok glances at the fresh crater in the concrete. The shots were too fast and the penetration too clean for a standard sidearm. His brain immediately leaps to a conclusion.
The fuck? Really? A Five-seveN? Ordinary kidnappers don’t carry hardware like that. These guys are professional hitters.
Minseok curses himself for not bringing his gun. But hello? He's literally in the middle on his day off? The last thing he expected to deal with today was a goddamn gunfight.
More bullets flying as the steps come closer. Time is ticking and Minseok has to move.
Now, what are the options here?
First: obviously, find a way to flank the shooter. Risky, but not impossible. Minseok scans the parking lot, quickly mapping out angles between the concrete pillars and parked cars. He can probably make it work.
Second: the easy option. Run for his escape using the cars as cover. He’s only a few meters away from the exit ramp leading to the parking gate. But that defeats the whole point of stepping in to begin with. There are still two men left, and the boy is still trapped inside that black sedan.
First option it is.
Minseok is about to turn around to find his flanking route when a loud, aggressive honk cuts through the air.
Wait. Is it coming... this way?
Before Minseok can fully process what’s happening, a pair of blinding headlights swings around the corner, forcing him to wince. Screech of tires echoes through the parking lot as a white SUV peels around the corner, slamming to a halt right in front of Minseok
“Hey! Get in! Now!”
Minseok peers through the open window. Wait what? It’s the boy in grey hoodie shouting from the driver’s seat!
Without second thought, Minseok dives into the passenger seat, barely pulling his legs in before the car roars again, fishtailing out of the lot and leaving the suppressed gunfire to chew up nothing but empty air.
They’re safe.
Well. Relatively safe.
Minseok, and… uh. This stranger. He glances sideways at the boy behind the wheel—a boy he somehow ended up risking his life for less than 10 minutes after seeing him.
The universe really has a sick sense of humor when it comes to messing up his long-awaited day off.
In the heavy darkness of the room, a woman’s voice cuts through the silence from across the line of a call.
“So. He got away?”
A man in a suit answers, “We deeply apologize… madam.” His fear detectable in the hesitant delay of his explanation. “It was completely beyond our estimation. He had an anomaly backing him up.”
“He had… someone?” The woman hums. “What a surprise.”
Her tone then shifts dangerously sharp.
“Who?”
“…”
“You don’t even know?”
The man on the other end clears his throat nervously. “Apologies, madam. He wasn’t in our records.”
There is a brief silence before the woman talks again.
“...Find out everything about the anomaly.”
“Understood,” the man automatically answers. He hesitates briefly before speaking again.
“...And the next step?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The woman in the line muses, the sound of a lighter clicking open echoing through the receiver.
“...” The man doesn't dare to answer.
“Exterminate the obstruction.”
The ride is mostly silent after the chaos from a few minutes ago.
Minseok leans back in his seat, trying to process the entire situation.
Here he is now, sitting in a stranger’s car.
Looks like while Minseok had been busy dismantling the first three goons, the boy had somehow managed to slip his restraints, ghost past the chaos, and hijack—or recover?—his ride.
Huh. Not bad. Maybe he isn’t as helpless as he first looked.
Once they merge onto the main road, the boy finally reaches up and pushes back his hood.
Minseok glances sideways, catches his side profile—then immediately does a double take.
What the...
The word "okay" or “good-looking” clearly doesn’t cut it. "Beautiful" is a stretch for a guy, but somehow, it’s the only word that fits. Well. Maybe it’s just the visual contrast playing after staring at those five ugly-as-hell goons, so it’s Minseok’s brain making a biased judgment call.
But the boy surely has striking features. Minseok steals another glance.
With a face like that... What is he? A higher ups’ ‘pet’ trying to run away from his master? It would explain the professional wet-work team.
"Are you okay?" the boy asks, breaking the silence. His voice is surprisingly steady for someone who was just minutes away from being kidnapped.
“Yeah. Thanks for the save.” Minseok says. He immediately realizes how dumb that sounded. “Wait. I’m the one who saved you in the first place.”
The boy just chuckles, eyes still on the road. He looks really young—maybe 18 or 19? College students are around that age, right?
"Yeah," the boy says softly. "You really saved me back there."
Minseok ignores the weirdly sincere tone and chooses to scan the car interior instead. Exquisite, he notes. There are textbooks scattered in the back and a few high-end gadgets that signify this car as his own private ride. But really? a freaking GLS600 for a student’s ride? organ trafficking hypothesis—scratched. The boy is obviously worth way more alive than whatever his fresh organs would sell for.
Is he some chaebol heir whose daddy forgot to pay the protection money? Minseok wonders. Maybe he’s just a randomed rich kid target for desperate unhired hitters looking for a payday.
Whatever. Whether he is a "pet" on the run, a runaway model, or just a rich brat with remarkably bad luck, it isn’t Minseok's problem anymore. The adrenaline is finally wearing off, and in its place comes his sudden desperate craving for caffeine to save his life.
"Hey. Pull over after that turn," Minseok says, pointing toward a busy intersection. "You’ve put enough distance between you and the kidnappers. You should be safe by now."
The boy’s grip on the wheel falters for a split second. "…Huh?"
"You heard me. This is my stop."
The boy stays silent for a moment before he lets out a soft, "Ah."
Despite his lack of proper response, the boy obediently follows Minseok’s directions and pulls over beside a park just past the intersection.
Minseok quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes the door open. The luxury SUV is annoyingly tall, and without adrenaline pumping through his system anymore, the jump down is far less graceful than he would’ve liked.
Straightening up, he turns back toward the driver’s seat for his one final goodbye.
“Listen, kiddo. I’d recommend you forget all of this and just go live a normal life, but for God’s sake…” he lets out the biggest sigh. “…You better be careful. I don’t know what your shit is with those men, but they’re definitely not just some street thugs. They're dangerous. You better call your parents... or the cops. Actually, call both."
The boy just stares at him, those wide, strangely captivating eyes blinking rapidly. Another faint, "Ah," escapes his lips, like he’s forgotten how to form actual sentences.
He’s probably still in shock, Minseok thinks. Or he’s just a bit slow. Well. Not his problem. Either way, he’s out.
"Whatever."
Minseok slams the door shut, turns his back on the car, and starts walking.
He definitely isn’t letting a pretty boy or a chinese hit squad steal another minute of his precious day off.
Well, that backfired quickly.
Turns out Minseok’s peaceful day is still a distant dream. Because why is this kid tailing him?
He must be the dumbest person on earth to think someone wouldn’t notice being followed that obviously. Minseok can sense every tap of the boy’s sneakers matching his pace behind him.
So much for his peaceful day off. Here comes another distraction.
Minseok whips around, narrowing his eyes. “Excuse me? Are you following me?”
The boy, who has his hood pulled up again, jerks in surprise—as if Minseok is the one committing a crime here. Minseok gives him the most menacing glare he can muster.
“I, uh… yes,” the boy admits awkwardly, quickly shifting his gaze to the floor.
Up close, Minseok realizes the boy is actually significantly taller than him. He’s easily 180cm(-ish?) He only looked smaller earlier because he was being hauled around by those hulking heavy-hitters. Yet, despite his height, his expression makes him look like a lost child searching for his parents.
“Why?” he presses.
The boy finally looks up. “You saved my life. I have to express my gratitude.”
…the heck?
Minseok raises an eyebrow. “Uh, you’re welcome?” he says awkwardly, giving a half-hearted wave before turning around. “Bye.”
He starts walking again, but the boy is right there, quickening his pace to match Minseok’s shorter strides. “No! I mean! I have to repay you in some way.”
“You don’t have to. It wasn’t that much of a big deal to me.” Beating those little mice was nothing after all. Didn’t even count as a warm up. The gun part was a little surprising, but he would’ve dealt with it otherwise. He’s faced way worse.
“But—”
“Goodbye.”
Minseok puts his head down and marches on, but the heavy footsteps behind him don’t fade. They’re annoyingly persistent. It’s starting to itch at the back of his brain
“What is your problem?” Minseok snaps, spinning around again, causing the younger to slightly stagger back.
“Lunch,” he blurts out.
“Huh?”
“Let me treat you to lunch at least.”
Huh? Who the hell asks a stranger to lunch after nearly getting kidnapped?
Clicking his tongue, Minseok turns around, “I’m good. Thanks, but no thanks,” and proceeds to pick up his pace, leaving the boy standing alone by the curb.
The heck is wrong with him? Minseok sighs and ducks into a nearby cafe, praying the kid finally takes the hint to step away. He’s barely two steps inside when the bell chimes again, and there the boy is, hovering by the door.
Oh, for God's sake. Minseok is seriously starting to regret not just letting those kidnappers have him. Can’t a guy get some peace on his one day away from work?
“You’re still here,” Minseok notes, keeping his tone flat.
“I need to get my morning coffee, too,” the boy explains with a shy shrug. “I was on my way to get one before those guys spawned out of nowhere.”
What a weirdo. Minseok gives him a thin, strained smile that clearly says back off. “Great. Good for you.”
They say the path to inner peace is simply ignoring everything around you. Maybe Minseok should’ve practiced that earlier, but it’s never too late to start. So, Minseok chooses to do exactly that.
With his espresso in his hand, Minseok takes his seat and finally lets himself immerse into his group chat.
hyuuung
guess what just happened
k.hyukkyu
?
k.rascal
who’s paying the hospital bill this time?
?
I just saved a boy from kidnappers
k.hyukkyu
good boy ^^
finally doing some good deeds
k.rascal
??
problem is
the boy’s tailing me now
said he needs to treat me as thanks
do you guys think that’s normal?
k.rascal
he’s hitting on you
?
k.hyukkyu
don’t listen to him
maybe the boy was just trying to be polite
not that i care
i just need to hit master before my vacation ends
After a few giggles, Minseok takes a sip and immediately notices a pair of eye on him.
When he looks up, the boy in hoodie is still there, sitting on the table right across from him.
Is he for real? With an annoyed grunt, Minseok pushes himself up and walks over, which somehow makes the boy look startled instead.
“Why are you still here?” Minseok keeps his tone sharp. “Don’t you have, I don’t know… classes or something? You are a student, right?”
“Ah, yes… about that…” The boy scratches the back of his head, looking everywhere but at Minseok.
Minseok doesn’t bother waiting for the explanation. The kid talks too slowly, and his patience is already hanging by a thread. “Okay. Now it's goodbye for real.”
He walks past the boy, but all of sudden, a firm hand catches his wrist.
“Wait!” the boy blurts out. “I really should treat you. Please, just let me. I’m going to feel like a jerk if I don’t.”
“Why do you keep pushing this?” Minseok snaps, pulling his hand free. The reaction only seems to fluster the boy even more. “I told you, I’m fine. I can buy my own food. And my damn coffee too.”
“…Because you’re very pretty.”
Minseok has to blink several times to process the entire sentence. “…Huh?” The hell is this kid on?
Noticing whatever expression Minseok’s making, the boy seems to realize what he just said a second too late. His eyes widen immediately.
“Ah—I mean, I—uh.” He starts fumbling over his own words, glancing down in embarrassment. “You’re just… really pretty. And I figured I’d be an idiot if I let you walk away without at least trying to get your number.”
Good grief. So this kid has been trying to hit on him this whole time? Minseok lets out a short laugh. “Kiddo, don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“I’ll be 21 this december.”
Minseok whistles low. “Damn. 20? You really are a baby.”
“I am not a baby,” the boy shoots back, visibly offended. “How old are you, then?”
“24,” Minseok answers. This october, he mentally adds.
“What?” The boy blinks, scanning Minseok’s face. He then clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh… I guess a 3 year diff isn’t that much.”
This kid is seriously a persistent weirdo, Minseok concludes. But, shit. He really has no room in his life for whatever this is. Better shut it down properly before the kid gets the wrong idea.
“Give it up. In terms of life experience, you might as well be a toddler to me.”
The boy tilts his head, seemingly unfazed. “So you’re not at school anymore?”
Minseok sighs. “Yeah, unlike you, I’m a working adult. I’ve been in my field for 6 years, earning my own money. Now do you see my point?”
“Did you start working right after you graduated high school?”
What the hell? The kid is completely missing the point. It’s like they’re having two entirely different conversations.
“Graduated?” Minseok scoffs. “I dropped out in middle school.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t give me that pity look.” Minseok scrunches his face. “I hated school anyway. Waste of time.” Most of what he actually needed to survive came from the streets. No textbook was going to teach that.
The boy smiles a little. “But you’re smart. A genius, even. I can tell.”
Oh?
Something about the way he says it catches Minseok’s attention.
“…And how exactly did you figure that out?”
“The way you fight,” the boy says, suddenly dropping his previous stutter. “You read people fast. Distance, size, timing, blind spots… you calculate everything almost instantly. You look at every disadvantage and immediately start compensating for it with your surroundings.”
His gaze flickers briefly toward Minseok’s hand.
“…That baton was mostly a distraction for them.”
Then he looks back up, straight into Minseok’s curious eyes.
“You fought that way because you’re…uhm. Small.”
Small, he said? Fucking hell. Minseok is about to snap,
“You little punk—!” but he cuts himself off with a sharp exhale before the insult fully leaves his mouth.
The kid’s observant, he’ll give him that. Most people only focus on the baton and assume it’s there only to make up for his size—not the other calculations happening in his every move.
The boy seems to notice the shift in Minseok’s expression. “I meant—“ he tries to correct himself in panic as he waves his hand frenzily. “I meant the fact that you’re smaller is what makes everything impressive. You beat three guys way bigger than you, after all!”
“Whatever,” Minseok mutters, tipping his head back with a click of his tongue. “That’s actually a pretty good read, kiddo.”
The comical change in the boy’s expression is almost too cute. His panic turns into surprise, then visible relief, then he finally breaks into a smile.
“Maybe you can call me Suhwan instead of 'little punk' or 'kiddo,' hyung. Suhwan,” he repeats, looking directly at Minseok.
“My name is Kim Suhwan.”
The boy tilts his head, watching him like a kitten waiting for a response. With that face and smile combo, the look is doing more damage than Minseok is willing to admit.
“Kiddo,” he sighs, rubbing his neck. “I’m Ryu Minseok. And stop calling me ‘hyung.’”
The boy’s expression brightens even more. “So… Minseok-hyung. Will you let me buy you dinner as my reward for having a pretty good read?”