A sigh. “I can hear the chaos prince suffering.”
“You could say that.”
“That’s the life you chose, boss.”
Haneul eventually collapsed under the shade of a dark blue parasol like a frost prince banished to a furnace..
He wore an enormous sunhat (borrowed from a passing ahjumma), sunglasses the size of a dinner plate, bird-print swim trunks, and a long-sleeved linen shirt buttoned up to the throat. His feet never touched the sand. His legs were tucked up on the towel like the floor was lava.
He scowled at the horizon.
Seungho fed him iced tea. Then ice cream.
Haneul accepted both like they were reparations for war crimes.
At one point, Seungho made the mistake of saying, “It’s October. You won’t burn.”
A handful of sand hit his face before he could blink.
“Say that again, and I’ll bury you alive.”
??????
Chapter 42 – Duck Socks & Dinner Debauchery
By the time they returned to the hotel suite, Haneul was half-melted.
He clung to Seungho like a sun-sick octopus, limbs flopped, shirt wrinkled, hat askew.
“If you die in your meeting,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded, “I’m not paying your funeral fee.”
Seungho kissed his temple.
“I’ll survive.”
“Hmm. Cock demon immunity?”
“Something like that.”
Then Haneul melted across the couch like a defeated fox spirit, and was asleep before Seungho finished changing. He wore only Seungho’s white shirt now, long sleeves swallowing his hands, collar slipping off one shoulder as he dozed face-down into a silk cushion.
Seungho, watching him from the doorway, felt something crack.
He left quietly.
The sea hummed at the windows.
Haneul eventually stirred enough to shower, muttered curses at the sand, and then curled up on the hotel couch with damp hair and only one sock on—like a feral snow feline that had been tricked into summer.
Downstairs, it was all finance.
Seungho sat through hours of meetings—finance updates, logistics, reports. At some point, Jaewan called to report a move from Hye-jin’s father, a shift in the Jang family stocks, and something about a leaked procurement memo.
But Seungho barely heard it.
Because the image of Haneul—last night, mouth parted, legs trembling, voice shaking as he whispered his name—kept blooming behind his eyes.
He bit back a smile.
