Chapter Text
28.
“Hey, you.”
Kim Dokja tensed at the voice, eyes scanning for potential escape routes, before slowly relaxing when it registered that the voice was unfamiliar. He turned and was met with the sight of a harried senior from his department. He was clutching a piece of paper in his hand.
“Yes?”
The senior glowered at him, but the dark bags under his eyes ruined the effect and only made him look more pitiful. “Go to a coffee shop and order all of these,” he said, shoving the piece of paper into Kim Dokja’s chest. “Be back in ten minutes. Or else…heh.”
Kim Dokja blinked as the man stomped off. It was obvious that this was another intimidation tactic designed to put him in his place again, but it was hard to take any of that seriously—especially since he’s already met Uriel and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.
Whatever. He’ll get their drinks, take one (or three) for himself and put it all on their tab. It was only fair, after all, to compensate him for his labor.
29.
“Kim Dokja,” his supervisor’s voice boomed from across the hall immediately as he stepped off the elevator. His supervisor started speed walking towards him, and Kim Dokja greatly resisted the urge to go back where he came from. At this point in, any relatively fast moving object or person triggered the well-trained flight response in his body; another strike against Yoo Jonghyuk.
“You need to go to the 999th conference room.”
They did not, in fact, have that many conference rooms. It was only that for some reason, Uriel decided to name them after random numbers. He had the feeling that they weren’t as random as most people would think, but he liked his head where it was. He’d probably get skinned if he ever asked—he didn’t have the security clearance for that information.
“Okay,” Kim Dokja said. “As soon as I deliver these—”
“Now!!”
They both startled at the unexpected outburst. His supervisor cleared his throat, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at his forehead. “Th–the boss wants you there right now. It’s very important.”
There were only two reasons why Uriel would call him to the office. One, she wanted to show off her collection of romance novels. Kim Dokja was sure this was some sort of intimidation tactic. Or two, she wanted to talk about actual work matters.
And there was only one work matter that was relevant to both of them.
But he submitted his work! He even did it quite early! And structured in a way that it was easy to read and understand! All in an attempt to avoid every possible chance of Yoo Jonghyuk looking for clarification from him, of course.
Surely Yoo Jonghyuk isn’t incompetent enough to not put all his hard work together? The image of a face contorted into a perpetual look of disdain rose up in his mind unbidden. His own eyebrow twitched. Scratch that thought. Who cares about incompetence? That man is absolutely petty enough to do none of the work assigned to him on purpose for revenge.
What were the chances of him escaping this, wiping everything that happened in this company from his memory, and living the rest of his life peacefully?...Microscopically slim to negative.
“Of course,” Kim Dokja gritted out. “I’ll go over there. Right now. This moment.”
“Yes. Right now.” The forehead wiping movement intensified the longer they stared at each other.
Kim Dokja bowed awkwardly and returned to the elevator, finger trembling as he pressed a ridiculously high floor number. The elevator started smoothly, and rose through the floors uninterrupted, much to Kim Dokja’s dismay. He would not mind it right now if it just stopped and he just happened to get stuck in this space for a few hours. It might be a little dark and stuffy, sure, but that probably beats a coffin (which was permanent.)
No, he’s getting way too ahead of himself. He needs to calm down and think this through.
Best case scenario: they fire him and he’ll have to find a new job.
A slightly worse case, but still good, scenario: they fire him and blacklist his name, forcing him to beg for change on the streets because no other company would dare go against the totally legal business Uriel was running.
Worst case scenario: he finds himself ambushed as he walks out the door, stuffed into a burlap sack, dragged into an unmarked van, and taken to who knows where. Then they’ll take him out and—nope, for the sake of his sanity, he will not be going there. Unfortunately for him, that awful scenario was also the most likely one.
He tried to calm his racing heart. It’s fine. He’ll (probably) survive and promptly erase this event from his mind. And in a last ditch attempt to avoid the impending mental breakdown, he thought of what Yoo Jonghyuk would do in this scenario.
He’d probably just beat anyone who tries to kidnap him and force them to divulge who they were working for, but for the sake of not going to jail, Kim Dokja decided to pretend that Yoo Jonghyuk valued peace.
That sunfish bastard would probably strut into the room and act like he owned it. Then he would sit in the CEO’s chair at the head of the table and have the audacity to glare at everyone else there as if they were simply there to waste oxygen
Of course, Kim Dokja wouldn’t go that far, but for some reason that image of Yoo Jonghyuk haughtily looking at the shareholders with disdain emboldened him enough to push the large wooden doors open. Without knocking. He refused to flinch back from his bold actions.
Every head in the room swiveled to look at him and he got about one-third of a step in before his confidence took a critical hit.
“Hello,” Kim Dokja waved, smiling in a way that he hoped conveyed warmth and quiet confidence. He desperately clutched at the remnants of his sudden burst of courage and managed to grit out: “You called?”
“ You .”
Ah. There it was. The voice he never wanted to hear ever again. Kim Dokja practically felt his soul leave his body a little, and at this point, he might as well send it off all the way. He raised an eyebrow, “Yah, you might wanna relax a little there, Jonghyuk-ah. You don’t want to get wrinkles at such a young age!”
“Kim. Dok. Ja.”
“That’s me,” he said calmly, as his heart wasn’t desperately trying to escape the confines of his ribcage. Then, because his brain also decided that his blood pressure wasn’t quite high enough, he continued: “Missed me, Jonghyuk-ah?”
Regret instantly washed over him like a tidal wave. He takes everything back. He has absolutely no sense of self preservation. If Yoo Jonghyuk decided to lunge across the long table—which he looked like he was about to do anyway—Kim Dokja wouldn’t even blame him.
“Oh my god,” Han Sooyoung choked, repeatedly slapping the table as she doubled over with the force of her guffaws. “ Missed me, Jonghyuk-ah?” she mocked, deepening her voice comically.
Han Sooyoung was here too? Her presence caused dread to build up in the pit of Kim Dokja’s stomach. Woodenly, he slowly surveyed the room’s occupants. There was Yoo Jonghyuk, sitting at the head of the table. Of course. But there was also Han Sooyoung, Uriel, Lee Hyunsung, and…the bartender from a few weeks ago… and the highschool girl?
Kim Dokja took a step back, reaching for the doorknob, but a hand got there before he did.
“Not so fast, Dokja-ssi,” Yoo Sangah smiled at him gently. “As entertaining as this is, I think it’s time for you to stop moping around.” Then she wrapped a dainty hand around his wrist in a death grip and dragged him closer to the long table before going back to her seat. A sharp look from her stopped any thoughts of escape.
“ Missed me, Jonghyuk-ah?” Han Sooyoung mocked, pointing her lollipop at him.
“Not quite,” another voice called out. It was the bartender from a few weeks ago. She grinned at him and said, “It was more like, ‘ Missed me~, Jonghyuk ah?~’”
Han Sooyoung nodded sagely. “Of course. My bad.” She cleared her throat and actually batted her eyes at Yoo Jonghyuk. “ Jonghyuk-ah~”
The bartender laughed, collapsing against Lee Hyunsung, smacking his thigh. Kim Dokja winced at the sound, and felt a little faint.
This was the room where the shareholder meeting was supposed to happen. Every person at that table was lounging comfortably, like they had spent countless times sitting in chairs worth 4.8 times his yearly salary.
Even someone with limited mental capacities could figure out what was going on.
Uriel cleared her throat delicately, not-so-discreetly tucking her phone away. “Now, now,” she said. “It’s time for the jokes to stop and for business to start.”
Kim Dokja almost collapsed from relief at her words. The sooner they started, the sooner he could get out of here and bury himself underneath his blankets while lamenting the fact that he was not born into excessive wealth like everyone else in this room apparently was.
Uriel reached down to grab something—probably some files for the meeting…and started passing out small bags of popcorn around the table.
What.
“I’m Jung Heewon, by the way,” the bartender said, popping a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth.
“N-nice to meet you, Jung Heewon-ssi,” Kim Dokja said. “What are you doing here?”
“Direct as ever, I see,” she laughed. “My company is a subsidiary of Uriel’s.”
“Oh, the bar?”
“No,” she waved her hand. “That’s just my hobby.”
Of course. Just a hobby . Kim Dokja took a deep, calming breath. “And Lee Hyunsung-ssi?”
“Ah,” he scratched his cheek, his ears flushing a bright red for some reason. “My family has…close ties with Heewon’s.”
“ Close ties, ” Jung Heewon rolls her eyes. “Well, he’s not wrong. Can’t get any closer than connecting two families through marriage.” She pinched Lee Hyunsung’s cheek. “Yah, we really need to work on that shyness of yours. It’s just Dokja.”
…Hey, now. What’s that supposed to mean? And since when were they on such familiar terms??
Han Sooyoung gagged at the display of tenderness, sticking her tongue out when everyone turned to look at her. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just here to enjoy the show.”
Kim Dokja eyed her warily. She huffed at his unspoken question. “If you must know,” Han Sooyoung started. “Unlike most of the people in this room, I am here because of my own efforts. All of my very well-deserved wealth has been earned through my own two hands—”
The highschool girl—apparently Lee Jihye, according to Yoo Sangah’s whispered introduction—interrupted: “Aren’t your parents the major suppliers of—”
“—and I have not taken a single penny from my parents.”
Kim Dokja blinked. “Riiiiiight. You still haven’t said what you do.”
“I was getting there.”
“Will you be getting there anytime soon? Some of us actually have things to do.” Like trying to figure out how to escape from a room full of ravenous sharks ready to tear his head off at any time.
“She’s an author,” Lee Jihye interrupted again. Bless her soul. The words immediately piqued Kim Dokja’s interest.
“Which novel?”
“Which novels ,” Han Sooyoung corrected. “And I won’t name any names, because I’m humble and mysterious like that, but I will tell you that I have absolutely dominated the market in the past four years. At least one of my novels sit in the top three spots at all times—”
And for the third time in the past five minutes, Han Sooyoung was interrupted again; this time by the screeching of a chair pushed back forcefully. Yoo Jonghyuk placed his palms on the table, and Kim Dokja took two steps back in response to the way his fingers dug into the wood, his knuckles white with the force of it.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk gritted out. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No, I haven’t. You just suck at looking for me.” When in doubt, always lie.
“You’re lying.”
Plan immediately torn apart into shreds. “Well, I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Yoo Jonghyuk was very quickly, and visibly, losing the small shreds of composure he had. A large vein popped on his temple, and before anyone could react, he hopped onto the table and used it as some sort of catwalk, making a beeline for Kim Dokja. Kim Dokja’s mind blanked, and he screeched as Yoo Jonghyuk approached him like a vengeful ghost. He knew that if he ran right now, Yoo Jonghyuk would just lunge off the table and tackle him before he made it far enough.
So he did the next logical thing. He threw the item in his hand in an attempt to stall for time. Yoo Jonghyuk batted the popcorn bag away. No matter, for Kim Dokja’s body moved in autopilot and threw the next weapon: a drink from the cup holder.
Yoo Jonghyuk swiftly evaded the first and second cups, but couldn’t quite manage to dodge the third. Smooth plastic hit him square in the face. White foam dripped from the sharp lines of his jaw, staining his no doubt expensive suit and pooling on the pristine floors. Kim Dokja threw the last drink—cup holder included for maximum damage—as a final blow.
At that moment, it seemed that everything was in slow motion. His eyes tracked the cup as it left his hand, the projectile smoothly sailing through the air, a brightly coloured drink spilling from the lid opening in a graceful arc, suspended by gravity for just a split second before landing gently on Yoo Jonghyuk’s face. The colorful droplets stained the white foam still stuck on his face like rays of the dying sunlight laying gently on puffy clouds.
The soft, peaceful imagery contrasted sharply with the burning emotion in Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Kim Dokja swore he heard creaking noises.
Kim Dokja vaguely recalled a line from a book he read—something about life coming in a full circle. He never understood it before, but now he was painfully aware of its meaning. It was fitting, honestly. The same action that brought them together is the same one that will mark their parting.
It was almost artistic. Almost, if not for the fact that he was about to get murdered in this oddly numbered conference room.
With that, time returned back to its normal speed. Kim Dokja turned on his heel the same moment that Yoo Jonghyuk jumped off the table. Yoo Jonghyuk would have made it too, had he not forgotten about Kim Dokja’s liquid attack puddled on the floor.
Yoo Jonghyuk’s shoes screeched, expensive leather desperately trying to find purchase on the slippery surface. Kim Dokja, always the opportunist, used this moment to escape, and promptly stumbled over a stray cup. The floor rushed towards him, and he braced himself for impact only for the world to spin around dizzyingly.
Arms enveloped his torso midair and he gasped as his body landed on something firm, the momentum carrying his head forward until his lips landed on something incredibly soft and sweet.
He froze, eyes locked on Yoo Jonghyuk’s equally wide eyed gaze.
That incredibly soft and sweet thing was…Yoo Jonghyuk’s lips.
…Lips that were still pressed firmly against his. Time slowed once again, every moment feeling like an hour.
After what seemed like literal years, Kim Dokja managed to open his mouth to protest, to pull away, anything , and promptly felt a tongue sliding against his. A hand pressed against the nape of his neck, and Kim Dokja suppressed the urge to shiver at the scalding touch.
His reaction didn’t go unnoticed, judging by the slight curve of Yoo Jonghyuk’s mouth.
Time slipped past him, as easy as the slick glide of their tongues. It should be gross, and he really should be recoiling away from all of this. Instead, his body slowly relaxed, unable to resist the force of Yoo Jonghyuk’s passion.
The room was silent, save for the soft sounds of their mouths sliding against each other and the constant clicking of a camera shutter.
Fortunately, Yoo Jonghyuk decided to have mercy on him just as the room started spinning. Kim Dokja pulled away wetly, panting. A trail of saliva connected their parted lips, and he gulped as he saw Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes darken at the sight. Kim Dokja gulped, nervously chuckling when Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes followed the bobbing of his Adam's apple.
“Do you get it now, Kim Dokja?” Yoo Jonghyuk whispered. And oh—that voice. Kim Dokja feigned indifference, but he wasn’t very successful, if the amused quirk in Yoo Jonghyuk’s kips were any indication.
Kim Dokja huffed, pushing himself up. This time Yoo Jonghyuk let him; though he still kept a firm grip on his hips to stop any chance of escape. He looked at the popcorn stuck in between dark strands, eyes trailing over the sticky mess on Yoo Jonghyuk’s face, the ruined suit—not like his was any better, at this point—and felt an odd surge of fondness bubble up in his chest.
But unlike the other times, he didn’t bother suppressing it much. Yoo Jonghyuk must have noticed some sort of change as well, hands gripping his hips just a hair tighter. The air around them crackled with tension.
“I don’t know,” Kim Dokja said, voice light, teasing. “You might need to show me a few more times.”
For a moment, there was stillness, and that short window was enough time for doubt to creep into Kim Dokja’s thoughts. But as soon as it came, the silence was broken.
Yoo Jonghyuk’s lips broke out into a wide smile, and Kim Dokja was breathless at the sight of it. Large hands cupped his face, and Kim Dokja leaned into the warmth. “I’ll show you as many times as you want,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, hushed; almost like it was a promise.
Kim Dokja felt giddy at the thought of it. A promise, he thought, leaning in once again. That sounds nice.
“Finally!!”
There was a groan. “I-it really took them this long?”
“Pay up, you losers!! AHAHAHAHA”
Kim Dokja’s ears flushed as he was reminded of their audience. He didn’t know who said what, choosing to shove his face into Yoo Jonghyuk’s neck and ignore the rest of the world around him.
Hm. It was unexpectedly comfortable.
30.
“We’re really doing this?” Kim Dokja was now laying on Yoo Jonghyuk’s sheets, the ones with the ridiculously high thread count, Yoo Jonghyuk between his legs and opening a box of condoms. Safety first. He giggled a little deliriously, feeling a little too hot under his shirt collar.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “You’re the one who said—” A deep breath, then: “I’ve been very patient. If you don’t shut up right now—”
The box crumpled underneath Yoo Jonghyuk’s clenched fist. Kim Dokja’s face stayed nonchalant at the action. His body didn’t get the memo. Hello??? Weren’t they on the same team here??
“Oh, yeah?” Kim Dokja raised an eyebrow. He might not exactly be in the optimal position to be making demands right now, but like hell was he going to make anything easy for that sunfish bastard. “What are you going to do about it?”
The annoyance on Yoo Jonghyuk’s face transformed into something dangerous, and Kim Dokja immediately tried to get away, alarms blaring in his head. Alas, he was quickly caged in by large, incredibly muscular arms. Yoo Jonghyuk leaned in close to his ear, breath brushing over the shell of it and said: “This.”
Kim Dokja did not moan as he was unceremoniously manhandled into a face down position, his hips hiked up high, and a hand pressed firmly against the middle of his shoulder blades.
“Hey,” he complained. “What are you—ah!”
A loud smack cut through his words, and this time there was no stifling the noise that escaped his mouth. He lay there in shock and embarrassment, the stinging heat on his ass spreading even through the fabric of his pants. His stunned silence only lasted for a moment, though, and he quickly renewed his efforts to escape.
“D-did you just spank me??”
“Yes,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “And I’ll do more if you don’t behave. ”
“I’m not a child!”
“Really?” Kim Dokja didn’t even need to turn around to imagine the unimpressed expression on Yoo Jonghyuk’s face. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Before he could think about what he was saying, Kim Dokja opened his mouth: “Yah, Yoo Jonghyuk-ssi, do you really think of me like a child? That’s kind of illegal, you know? I didn’t know you were into that…”
There was silence. Yoo Jonghyuk’s hands disappeared. Sweat built up on Kim Dokja’s temples. Ah, maybe that was a little too far…
He was about to turn around and fumble his way through an explanation, when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly and flipped his body for him.
“Kim Dokja,” Yoo Jonghyuk practically growled. “That pretty little mouth of yours needs a filter.”
“You think my mouth is pretty?”
Yoo Jonghyuk grabbed his collar, and for a second, Kim Dokja thought he was going to get choked—and not in a sexy way. But instead, Yoo Jonghyuk pulled, ripping his shirt open and causing his buttons to fly everywhere. Kim Dokja’s eye twitched in annoyance. Not everyone has a multitude of personal designers and clothes makers at their beck and call! Some people actually have to take care of their things. He tried to convey just as much, but Yoo Jonghyuk steamrolled right over him.
“By the time I’m done with you,” Yoo Jonghyuk said. “You won’t be able to speak. ”
The words were said a little too calmly, and Kim Dokja felt a rush of heat pool in his stomach as Yoo Jonghyuk drew closer.
What did he get himself into?
31.
Kim Dokja’s eyes snapped open as he shot up from an unfamiliar bed.
Pain stabbed practically every part of his body at the movement, and he collapsed back into bed with a groan, coming face to face with Yoo Jonghyuk’s sleeping face. Kim Dokja’s eyes widened and he very forcefully shoved down the scream building up in his throat.
“Don’t even think about running away, you little rat,” Yoo Jonghyuk said, his eyes still closed.
Kim Dokja froze from where he was literally about to very sneakily slide off the bed, settling back in again like nothing happened. “Running away?” he said. “Me? Never. And who are you calling a rat?”
“You, obviously,” Yoo Jonghyuk scoffed. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early.”
Kim Dokja pouted. He’s never been the type to fall asleep again after waking up. “But I’m not tired.”
“...You’re not?” Yoo Jonghyuk’s eyes sharpened.
Shit. “Ah, wait–I mean—”
“Hm,” Yoo Jonghyuk rolled on top of him. “It seems that I wasn’t thorough enough last night. I’ll have to fix that immediately.”
Kim Dokja gulped, his body reacting to the words. Yoo Jonghyuk smirked and went to work. Needless to say, Kim Dokja slept very deeply after that .
32.
“So, like, what do you even do?” Kim Dokja said around a mouthful of rice and eggs. Yoo Jonghyuk shot him a disgusted look as he set a plate of bacon down, so of course Kim Dokja had to smack his lips even louder in retaliation. “You come from old money too?”
Uriel and Jung Heewon’s companies were related, and Lee Hyunsung is there because of his wife. Han Sooyoung even managed to worm her way in there through her novels. Kim Dokja had an inkling as to which ones she wrote, but it was unlikely that the mistake-filled books he was thinking about were hers—that spoiled little gremlin probably had a mountain of editors at her beck and call.
Yoo Sangah was…Yoo Sangah. As expected, she came from old old old old money; that elegant attitude wasn’t something you could pick up off the street, after all. Even Lee Jihye, who almost gave Kim Dokja a heart attack when she called Yoo Jonghyuk her Master , was apparently the heir of a well established, maritime based family.
Yoo Jonghyuk pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you even know the name of the company we’re merging with? No, of course you don’t.”
“Hey,” Kim Dokja complained. “I’m just there to do my job. I don’t need to know this.”
“You literally spent months of your life with classified documents for this merger—classified documents that had the name of my company printed at the top of every sheet.”
Kim Dokja opened his mouth to protest when he realized something. His brain lagged. “...What do you mean your company?”
Yoo Jonghyuk shot him (yet another) unimpressed look. Kim Dokja’s egg slid off his spoon, jaw dropping at the implication.
“ What????”
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