After showering, I put on a robe without even drying my hair. I didn’t know when he had left the room, but he had neatly folded all my clothes and placed them on the table by the window. However, all the lower buttons of my shirt had been torn off, making it impossible to wear what I had on yesterday.
My underwear was damp in the front from the precum I had already leaked while we were kissing and caressing, but I had no choice but to put it back on. Even with a robe on, I didn’t have the courage to go without underwear in front of other people.
The thought that he had probably seen my wet underwear while tidying my clothes made me feel a sense of dismay, as if I’d been caught with a hidden dirty book. I knew I shouldn’t be embarrassed over a pair of wet underwear after everything else we had done, but I was anyway.
I left the bedroom, careful not to reveal the uncomfortable feeling of a foreign object still inside me. The intense summer sunlight flooding the long, vertical living room told me it was already well past noon.
His personal butler, a middle-aged man who always assisted us whenever we had breakfast here, and two other staff members in aproned uniforms were waiting by the dining table.
Contrary to his suggestion that I have a light bite and go back to sleep, there wasn’t even room for another spoon on the table, which was laden with both a Western and a Hong Kong-style breakfast. As if that weren’t enough, other dishes were prepared on a cart next to the table.
Rubbing my robed arm, I greeted them awkwardly and hesitantly took a seat.
He first offered me fresh juice, and I accepted a glass of orange juice that seemed freshly squeezed, with the pulp still intact. I must have been thirsty, as I downed the whole glass in one go. He asked if I would prefer shrimp congee or wontons if I didn’t have much of an appetite, and I said I would have the wontons. As soon as I answered, a lidded bowl of wontons was placed on the empty white plate before me.
Next, he asked if I would like to have a brief call with Mr. Liu before my meal, and I said I would.
I suddenly found it amusing how I was acting like a well-behaved child, doing everything the butler suggested. No, perhaps I was doing everything he suggested, through the butler. He probably hadn’t specified the menu, but it felt as though he were giving me orders through the butler.
The butler handed me a phone connected to him. I took the simple-looking mobile, which seemed to be for business, but it took me a moment to respond to him.
“Yes.”
[You didn’t… sleep well, did you?]
He had been about to ask the perfunctory “Did you sleep well?” but seemed to realize it was a foolish question and awkwardly changed his phrasing. I could almost picture his slight frown.
“No, I did. I slept soundly without waking up once.”
[How’s your body? You can go get a check-up right away, anytime.]
Even though I figured they probably couldn’t understand Korean, I broke into a cold sweat talking about my physical condition after sex in front of other people.
“I’m fine. Other than just being sore… there weren’t any particular injuries.”
I lowered my head to hide what must have been a flushed face, fiddling with the warmed porcelain spoon placed next to the wonton bowl. It was just as embarrassing to talk to him about my current physical state while sober as it was to talk about it in front of the three people surrounding me.
He let out a long sigh, seemingly displeased with my assertion that I didn’t need to go to the hospital, but he appeared to accept it for the time being.
[I’ve changed your flight to the evening. The butler will guide you through the schedule. Rest a bit more and get ready slowly. I had to leave first because something urgent came up… but I’ll take you to the airport myself.]
He followed up with an explanation that his own schedule had been changed to return to Korea tomorrow because of that ‘urgent matter to handle.’
“What about… the others?”
[They left as originally scheduled. So don’t worry about what excuse to make or anything like that, just get some rest.]
Just like last time, he must have made up a suitable story about my condition. It was probably an excuse about me being unwell, similar to before. I figured this would completely solidify my image within Phantom as a weakling prone to illness. It wasn’t an image I particularly wanted, so it was a bitter thought, but I understood there couldn’t have been any other excuse. It wasn’t an illness, but it was true that I wasn’t well.
I told him he didn’t have to take me since the hotel had a shuttle bus, but he changed the subject, saying he had to hang up. He added that I should be sure to eat something, even if I had no appetite.
Remembering what he had said last time—to eat a little for my own sake even if I wasn’t hungry—I tried to at least finish the bowl of wontons, but the awkwardness of eating alone while being watched by strangers, combined with the discomfort below, made it increasingly difficult to remain seated.
After eating just enough to soothe my stomach, I excused myself, grabbed a cup of coffee, and stood up.
The butler suggested I get a massage. That, too, was his suggestion. He said a massage would make my body feel much lighter. He explained that a therapist from the hotel spa could be called to the room for a comfortable massage, but there was no way I would feel comfortable in that situation.
The fact that he had anticipated my condition and shown me such consideration in advance was enough.
No, I was certainly grateful, but this luxurious treatment after a night with him made me feel a creaking sense of things going awry.
It was my fault for oversleeping through my alarm, but to have a meal served by others in a hotel room without him after spending the night together, for him to have already changed my schedule in consideration of my physical state… such considerations were unnecessary. Especially if this was the kind of kindness he doled out equally to all his partners.
The luggage from the room I had been staying in was also completely packed, and the carry-on I had borrowed from Director Kim had been moved to the hallway by the entrance. His final directive was probably for me to rest in this room until he came to pick me up.
Leaving them to clear away the barely touched meal, I returned to the bedroom with a heavy heart.
I started to draw the curtains but stopped, opting to turn on a light instead.
Looking around the room anew, I saw that various belongings of his were still there. A file of fair-related documents stacked on the decorative cabinet, a tablet PC on the nightstand, and even the robe he must have taken off just before leaving, draped over the sofa.
And on the table by the window, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter lay neatly.
The ashtray held five or six crushed cigarette butts, perhaps from him smoking while I was asleep. I had been sleeping so deeply that I had been completely unaware of him smoking that many cigarettes, getting ready, and leaving the room. Or perhaps he had moved carefully so as not to wake me.
Had he gotten any sleep at all after I fell asleep?
The memory of his vulnerable blue eyes—a mixture of confusion, emptiness, and fear of himself—which I had last seen before closing my eyes, came to mind, and my head grew as complicated as my body was clamorous.
If I turned on my phone, there would probably be worried messages from Yuni-noona, Juhan-hyung, and Director Kim, and I also had to contact Morae and Yeehan, with whom I had planned to have dinner after returning to Korea today. They were trivial matters, but they felt too complicated and burdensome for me to handle right now.
“Let’s not think about anything, not worry about anything. Like just flicking off a switch in your brain. You can do that, right?”
Recalling his words from that night, I decided to flick off the switch in my brain for now.
I set the coffee down on the table, sat in one of the two armchairs, and picked up the pack of cigarettes. They were a common global brand, available anywhere in the world. I took one out and lit it.
I wasn’t the type to touch someone else’s things without permission, even if it was just a single cigarette… no, I had already done such a thing, so I was, surprisingly, a person who could, depending on the situation, touch another’s things without permission.
Having seen myself, who had once performed even masturbation with an indifference that bordered on annoyance, now cling to our union with fiery passion and shameful audacity, this was hardly surprising.
I’ll buy you a new pack when I get to Seoul.
I muttered nonsensically in the empty room and took a drag of the cigarette. My throat still stung, and my eyes narrowed at the sensation of my lungs tightening. I didn’t cough, but I couldn’t inhale smoothly either.
After two or three drags, I rested the cigarette on the groove of the ashtray. It was better to just watch the thin trail of smoke slowly rising. The smoke, which appeared gray or blue depending on the angle, resembled his eyes.
Inevitably, my thoughts turned to him. It was not a subject I could avoid.
Last night, he had been kind, and in consideration of my inexperience, he had patiently reined in his desire to run wild. He had knotted me, but judging from his reaction, that hadn’t been his intention either. Besides, I was a beta, so there was no risk of pregnancy from him ejaculating while knotted. My inner walls hadn’t ruptured, contrary to his worries, so I didn’t want him to feel excessive guilt or responsibility for it.
He had even prepared various things for me in advance out of concern, so as a partner for the night, he was by no means lacking in manners.
But there was nothing more than manners and kindness.
Two adults had slept together by mutual consent, and I myself had wanted the encounter and come to this room on my own, so I wasn’t about to blame anyone for not getting anything more out of it.
It was quite the opposite. I wanted to laugh at and ignore the part of myself that was trying to find some hopeful hint or meaning in a one-night stand driven by impulsive sexual attraction.
What it meant when such meticulous kindness was not accompanied by any explanation. I may have been inexperienced in these matters, but I wasn’t so naive as to get carried away by my own delusions.
If only I hadn’t known. If I could have dreamed a foolish, sweet dream, even for a moment. Would I feel better now, left alone in this room, recalling the look in his eyes through the smoke of a cigarette I couldn’t even smoke properly?
The very fact that I was having such thoughts seemed foolish enough.
I picked up the robe that was draped over the back of the chair and buried my nose and lips in it. The cigarette in the ashtray had already burned down close to the filter. Gently stubbing out the finger-joint-length of gray ash in the ashtray, I stood up.
Nowhere in the room, not even on the robe he had left behind, could I smell his scent anymore.
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