Swallow Hunting

Fortunately, he managed to grab a taxi quickly, but there were still quite a few cars on the road, so he arrived at Lee Kangjoo’s office later than expected.

Haejun stumbled out of the car and limped into the building at a near run, breathing hard. But his pace slowed soon after. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the interior looked darker and more ominous than usual. It was Friday—people must’ve left work early, that had to be it. He tried to suppress the strange anxiety bubbling up inside him and stepped into the elevator.

The hallway leading to the office was brightly lit. There was no reason to be scared, and yet the silence was so absolute it felt like even a dropped needle would echo. The chill running down his spine refused to fade.

Haejun swallowed hard and moved forward slowly. Lee Kangjoo was waiting—he should hurry. But it felt like something kept tugging at his back, like it was trying to drag him away. Like it was grabbing his ankle, asking if he really had to go.

Even so, his feet carried him right up to the office door. When he opened it, the empty reception room came into view. Only the fish swimming in the tank turned their unblinking eyes toward him.

The door to the CEO’s office, where Lee Kangjoo should be, was tightly shut. For a moment, Haejun thought he caught a faint metallic scent. Just the smell of water from the tank, he told himself, trying to calm down as he stood in front of the door. He took a deep breath and raised his hand. The knock echoed unnaturally loud in the silent reception room.

“Come in.”

At the soft, low voice from inside, Haejun pushed the door open. The first thing that greeted him was a dim orange glow. Only the desk lamp lit the office.

Lee Kangjoo, who had been sitting and staring out the window, turned around. His hair and clothes—always neat—were disheveled. The end of his shirt was wrinkled, like someone had grabbed it and let go.

Beneath his carelessly rolled-up sleeves, his solid forearms were exposed. In the dim light, it was hard to see clearly, but something like dark stains clung to the back of his hand, where the veins stood out.

“...Sir?”

Haejun took a step forward, then froze. Something in the corner of the office had caught his eye. Slowly, he turned his head.

At first, he thought it was a life-sized doll. Its head was hanging forward, arms and legs limp, slumped against the wall. The clothes it wore—and the floor around it—were soaked in blood.

“......”

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like this. Once before, he’d witnessed the aftermath of Lee Kangjoo beating someone.

So Haejun tried desperately to calm himself. It was probably just some debtor, or someone who had gotten in the way of his business.

But even telling himself that, his heart pounded violently. His body went rigid, barely managing to breathe. He knew Lee Kangjoo was watching his reaction, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the corpse-like figure.

“Sir... that person...”

He was about to ask who it was.

At that moment, Lee Kangjoo stood and strolled leisurely over to the man.

Grabbing him by the hair, he lifted his head. The man, who had looked dead, let out a faint groan. “...Ugh...” His eyes didn’t open—he must’ve been unconscious. Even if they had, his entire face was so swollen it would’ve been hard to recognize him.

“Do you know who he is?”

It took time. Nothing on his face was intact enough to identify him easily. Only after staring closely did something click.

It was that guy—from the snowy day. The one who’d picked a fight over a delivery mistake. The one who’d once invited Lee Kangjoo out to dinner.

“...Yes. I’ve seen him before... but why is he here like this?”

He couldn’t understand why that man was lying there in such a state.

Lee Kangjoo let go of his hair as if tossing him aside and lightly dusted off his hands in the air.

“You shouldn’t be asking why he’s here. You should be asking why he got beaten.”

Only then did Haejun realize what the stains on Lee Kangjoo were. And what that faint metallic smell was.

“Ask me. I’ll answer.”

“......”

“I said ask.”

His voice was gentle—so gentle it sounded like he’d willingly answer even the deepest secret. In fact, Lee Kangjoo had been smiling ever since Haejun walked in. Even after turning a man into pulp, his eyes curved pleasantly, like he was in a good mood.

“...Why... did you do it?”

He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to hear the answer. He’d never liked that man, but seeing him beaten like that wasn’t satisfying at all. There was no sense of justice in it.

“This bastard confessed to me.”

Lee Kangjoo nudged the man’s leg with the tip of his shoe and said it flatly.

Haejun’s face went pale instantly. It felt like all the blood drained straight out of him. He forced himself to stay conscious, barely.

“Usually, I deal with it like this. When you tell them nicely, they don’t get it. They just keep being a nuisance.”

“......”

“But I’ve gone easy on you, Cha Haejun. Really, really easy.”

His stomach churned. The faint smell of blood suddenly filled the entire space, clogging his nose and throat. Something sour surged up his esophagus, and Haejun hurriedly covered his mouth. But the metallic stench slipped through his fingers, stabbing at his senses.

His gaze dropped.

There were streaks on the floor—like someone had dragged a thick, heavy snake across it, smeared in red paint. A long trail of blood led to where the man had collapsed.

“You asked me to help you get over it.”

Lee Kangjoo nudged the man again. At the careless kick, the barely propped-up body slumped sideways to the floor.

“How is it? Is this helpful enough?”

It felt like a hydraulic press was crushing both sides of his skull. The back of his neck prickled, nausea rising violently.

Haejun bent forward abruptly. Losing his balance, he fell as vomit surged up and spilled out. It splattered across the trail of blood.

The sour smell mixed with the stench of blood, dragging old memories to the surface.

A cramped, moldy room. Men surrounding him, snickering. The grinding sound of a blade rising. His pants being pulled down. The cold edge pressing against his inner thigh—

A slicing sound.

Flesh being cut.

Horrific pain.

Blood running thick along a long line, the blade touching his skin again—

Pain so vivid it blurred past and present.

The scar on his thigh throbbed unbearably. The hand pressed against the floor trembled.

No. Choi Manseok isn’t here.

Haejun squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady himself. If he just didn’t smell it, he’d be fine. He even held his breath.

But the scent of blood wasn’t in his nose. It was carved into his memory.

The nausea surged again. He bent low, almost pressing his face to the floor, mouth hanging open. There was nothing left to throw up—only clear saliva dripping from his lips.

After emptying everything, Haejun lifted his head, gasping.

Lee Kangjoo clicked his tongue and walked over. Haejun tried to retreat, but his casted leg wouldn’t cooperate. He could only flail weakly on the floor.

Lee Kangjoo bent one knee and crouched in front of him, meeting his eye level. His expression was still calm—too calm. Blood was splattered along his neck beneath the shirt collar and under his sharp jawline.

“If you weren’t feeling well, you should’ve said so.”

Then I wouldn’t have called you here.

He murmured it like an aside and wiped Haejun’s mouth with his bare hand. When Haejun tried to turn away, he grabbed his chin and wiped more thoroughly.

“Let’s clean this up and go.”

He pulled Haejun to his feet. Haejun tried to put distance between them, but Lee Kangjoo held him firmly, not letting him move even an inch. The smell of blood clung to him—just like when they’d first met.

His head felt like it was spinning. Struggling to steady his breathing, Haejun looked past Lee Kangjoo’s shoulder.

The man still lay motionless. Blood pooled beneath his crushed cheek, dripping from his nose and mouth.

Haejun’s trembling gaze shifted back to Lee Kangjoo. The smile on his face looked... relieved. Like someone who had finally thrown away an annoying burden.

“You threw up, so your stomach’s empty. What do you want to eat?”

How could he talk about food in a situation like this?

His stomach lurched again.

The face he knew so well—one he could draw with his eyes closed—looked different now. Over Lee Kangjoo’s picture-perfect features, Choi Manseok’s face overlapped faintly.

The blood-soaked man in the corner—that was Haejun.

He’d just been lucky not to end up like that. Just like Lee Kangjoo said—there was no telling how long his “leniency” would last. If he confessed again, he could be the one lying there.

Haejun stared blankly at him, searching desperately for some other meaning in his eyes.

There was none.

Nothing at all.

Except a faint satisfaction—like he believed this “warning” he’d prepared for Haejun was a kindness.

“......”

Only then did Haejun understand.

To Lee Kangjoo, his feelings were filth. Rotting garbage. Something ugly, something he didn’t even want to touch or look at.

All he needed was a body he could use whenever he felt like it.

Everything else—

was nothing but trash to be beaten out of existence.