Chapter Text
Something was different between the yawns of his luck.
It used to bring him joy, before it inevitably crushed him beneath the weight of an unimaginable burden. But burdens were a constant for those like him, beings thrown into this world for no other reason than fate’s twisted sense of humour. Fate delighted in playing games, in laughing heartily at the misery of its victims, as if clockwork dictated its every move. There were moments when he longed to disappear, to simply fade away into nothingness, wishing he could be reborn into a wealthy family, surrounded by those who were revered as the elite among the three societal factions. Often, his mind wandered, indulging in fantasies where he was a rich heir, living a life of luxury, indulging in the sweet taste of strawberry shortcakes without a care in the world.
Desires and necessities—there was a vast difference between the two, as wide as the gap between the endless sky and the deep ocean.
"Kim... Euihyun?
He had been on the brink of achieving the anonymity he craved, ready to merge with the shadows of the night, when a voice shattered his hopes. The voice belonged to an ash-blond-haired man whose eyes, wide and bright like golf balls reflecting the pale light of the spring moon, locked onto him with startling intensity. The pulsating rhythm of the latest house music, reverberating through the sweaty, writhing bodies on the dance floor and into the confining walls, echoed in his mind, a relentless reminder of his growing anxiety as the worst-case scenario began to unfold before him.
A larger, firmer hand closed around his, making his fingers go numb. The chill from the overworked air conditioners, along with the feel of the cotton shorts adorned with tiny rhinestones that barely covered him, began to fade, replaced by the rising heat of humiliation and fear that quickened his pulse. The grip was strong enough to halt his escape but gentle enough to avoid causing him pain. It kept him anchored, preventing him from stumbling as the man pulled him closer.
“You’re Kim Euihyun, aren’t you?” The man’s voice was deep, laced with a heavy breath that hinted at anticipation. “Second year, World Literature and Creative Writing department, right? H Uni—” Hearing his full designation spoken aloud in the dead of night was more than just surprising. It was the shock of having someone recognize him so intimately that struck Euihyun the most.
“What happened to manners?” Euihyun muttered under his breath, eyebrows knitting together in frustration as he attempted to retract his arm, only for the grip to tighten in response. Just as he turned to face the stranger, biting down on his lower lip in apprehension, the pounding music suddenly paused. The silence was brief, giving way to the sultry, melodic voice of a woman that filled the space with a slow, sensual rhythm. The song wasn’t just background noise—it was a signal, a cue that the night at Carnelia’s Night was transitioning into its most intense phase, where the dancers would earn their pay and leave in five hours. Panic surged within him as his eyes fell upon a group of nearly naked dancers emerging from behind the DJ booth, their faces obscured by masks, while trays of champagne and other expensive drinks balanced gracefully in their hands.
The stranger tried again, pulling his arm with renewed force, turning Euihyun to face him fully. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the man’s face with startling clarity, as though a spotlight had singled him out in the crowd. The man’s sharp eyebrows drew together in disbelief, his pale eyes scanning Euihyun’s barely-clad body as if trying to reconcile what he was seeing with what he knew. Despite having worked in these revealing shorts for a year, this was the first time Euihyun felt so exposed, so scrutinized. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the stranger’s gaze roved over him, leaving him feeling stripped bare.
“You are Kim Euihyun!” The man’s voice was deep, tinged with the unmistakable slur of someone who had been drinking. The rasp in his tone carried a smooth accent that made it all the more unsettling. “Take off your mask. Let me see your face,” he demanded, his free hand reaching out to grasp the edge of Euihyun’s bunny mask. His feet, encased in matching shoes, dug into the floor, creating just enough resistance to maintain a small, precious distance between them.
The masked man tugged at his trapped hand, his voice rising in desperation. “Leave me alone!” His other hand clawed at the stranger’s slender, bony fingers, his chest heaving from the exertion. This was one of those moments where he wished he had committed to daily workouts instead of sporadic attempts only twice a year. Despite his perceived strength, Euihyun found himself helpless, unable to muster the force needed to free himself from the man’s grasp.
“I said, leave—” His plea was abruptly cut off as the music ceased once more. His eyes darted upward to the elevated balcony, where the DJ was preoccupied with sorting his CDs. Next to him stood a woman in her fifties, her elegance highlighted by a blue tulle dress and a flute of champagne in hand. Her fair complexion seemed to catch every glimmer of light, as if shards of glass were embedded in her smooth skin, while her red lips curled into a knowing smirk.
The woman’s fox-like eyes swept over the dance floor and the four bars stationed on the east side. “Alphas, Betas, and Omegas! I hope you’re enjoying this sultry music! Our beauties have arrived, so why not pick and choose your favourites? Make every moment count! People of Carnelia’s Night! Indulge to your heart’s content as we embark on a journey of love, lust, and intoxication tonight!” She punctuated her declaration with a sip of champagne before snapping her fingers. Instantly, the music resumed its deafening beat, and the atmosphere shifted as the party truly began.
The crowd swelled with dancers clad in bunny masks and bejewelled outfits, their movements making the floor even more congested. Amidst the chaos, Euihyun was suddenly jostled by a man in a black shirt, who was dancing with a girl sporting red highlights and a matching bunny mask. The impact sent Euihyun stumbling, causing him to collide with the chest of the man still gripping his wrist.
“I—I’m sorry—” Euihyun stammered, trying to regain his balance and push himself away from the stranger, only to be pulled even closer. It wasn’t until their faces were mere inches apart that Euihyun realized the man’s other hand had found its way to his waist, while his wrist remained firmly trapped. Panic set in as the reality of his situation became inescapable. The sweat began to pool beneath his mask, a physical manifestation of the fear gripping him as he silently prayed to every deity, he could think of for a way out.
This couldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be happening.
He had to keep his identity hidden. At all costs.
“Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Holier-than-thou?” The man sneered, his right canine flashing menacingly, as if poised to sink into the masked man’s fresh wound. “Let me get a good look at that pretty face of yours, shall we?” he huffed, tightening his grip around Kim Euihyun’s waist as the latter struggled like a fish out of water. Time seemed to slow as those slender fingers grasped the edge of the mask, threatening to strip away his anonymity. Before Euihyun could react, the bejewelled mask was pulled away, leaving his pale face exposed. His eyes darted between the man’s light ones, watching in horror as the smirk grew into a full, sinister grin, the man's fangs gleaming in the red light, making him appear all the more formidable.
“Kim Euihyun!”
The blaring sound of the morning alarm shattered the silence, as if signalling the end of the world, jolting the man awake with a gasp that tore through his chest. His breath came in ragged bursts as beads of sweat threatened to roll down from his forehead into his wide, panic-stricken eyes. "Wake up! Wake up!" he muttered, glaring at the Doraemon-shaped alarm clock. The annoying tune it played was one he had grown to despise, yet he couldn’t be bothered to change it. With a frustrated slap of his palm, Kim Euihyun silenced the alarm, yawning as the remnants of his nightmare lingered in his mind. Relief washed over him as he realized that his worst fears hadn’t materialized into reality. He sighed deeply, his second yawn more relaxed, the tension easing from his body.
“No way he’d be there,” he mumbled to himself, ruffling his tousled black hair as a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then threw off the duvet and sprang out of bed, stretching for a few moments to shake off the morning stiffness. The open windows welcomed the familiar sounds of the neighbourhood coming to life. From his vantage point, Kim Euihyun could see the elderly Jang couple—much kinder than his own landlord—preparing their small restaurant for the day. Nearby, children chattered loudly as they waited for the bus near Mrs. Ho’s miscellaneous shop. Mrs. Kang and her husband were already embroiled in their usual morning argument over something trivial, with Mrs. Kang chasing him around the chairs on their porch, brandishing a rolling pin.
“Good morning, Sollido-dong!” Kim Euihyun called out with another yawn before climbing back onto his bed to close the windows and draw the curtains. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table, his eyes scanning the screen as he reviewed his work shift and study materials. Without realizing it, he had wandered out of his room and into the drawing room that connected the kitchen to the front door. His focus on the phone must have dulled his senses, for he failed to notice the large, log-like figure sprawled across the sofa beside him—a figure that, upon closer inspection, was as tall as an average man.
Kim Euihyun paused outside the door to his younger brother’s room. Although the door was usually left ajar, he always knocked before entering—one of the few conditions his twelve-year-old brother had insisted on when Euihyun had made him agree to keep the door open. Panic always gripped him when his brother didn’t uphold his side of the bargain.
This time, however, the door was closed.
A sudden wave of anxiety surged through him as he tried the doorknob, only to find it locked. “Yah! Euiyoung-ah!” he called out, his voice steady despite the growing unease. “Open up! You’re going to be late for school! Euiyoung-ah!” He banged on the door repeatedly, the urgency of getting his brother to school on time for the fourth time that month fueling his strength as he continued to pound on the door and twist the unyielding doorknob.
“Kim Euiyoung! Open up, or I swear I’ll rip your head off when I get my hands on you!”
“Euiyoung! You’re going to be late, you idiot! Stayed up all night playing games again, didn’t you? Yah!” He could faintly hear the sound of snores from the other side of the door, confirming his suspicions.
“Euiyoung—” He trailed off, his sharp ears—a gift from his low-tier status—picking up a second set of snores, this time coming from behind him. He scratched his head in confusion, slowly turning around, and a startled yelp escaped his lips as he stumbled against the door. Despite his poor vision, he was certain of what he saw—a figure, no, a devil, lying sprawled across the small sofa like a sack of rice, completely oblivious to the world and exhausted beyond measure.
It wasn’t a dream.
Oh, what a grim thing to face first thing in the morning.
Euihyun tiptoed cautiously until he stood towering over the man’s slumbering form. The intruder’s face was paler than the last time Euihyun had seen him. His ash-blond hair had an edgy cut that framed his sharp features, and his lips, red and slightly parted, hinted at a rough night. The man looked as though he had been drinking for days, his snores loud and unrestrained, with a trail of drool at the corner of his mouth. Euihyun’s mind raced as he tried to piece together how this abomination had ended up on his sofa. Had they really met last night?
Did he really get exposed? By Yeo Taeju, off all people?
He reached out to wake him, determined to throw him out of the house, but just before his fingers could make contact with that exhausted log of a man, Kim Euihyun hesitated. Second thoughts began to swirl in his mind. There was a good chance that alcohol had worked its magic, causing Yeo Taeju to forget about their unexpected encounter. Euihyun himself barely remembered what had happened after that sensual song ended. And even if Taeju did remember, Euihyun could always come up with a new trick to get rid of him. With that in mind, the twenty-one-year-old owner of unit 1006 quickly and quietly retreated to his room.
He searched frantically for something—anything—that could be used to cover half of his face. In one of the drawers near his dressing table, he found a tiger-printed cotton towel. The eccentric pattern was a testament to his younger brother’s peculiar taste. The boy had once won a lifetime supply of toiletries but had traded it for bundles of bizarrely printed handkerchiefs, claiming he was destined to be a fashionista.
Sighing, Euihyun folded the towel into a triangle and tied it around his face. Grabbing the baseball bat he kept behind his bedroom door, he cautiously stepped back into the drawing room. His stance was protective, the bat raised above his head, ready for action. But as he entered the room, confusion washed over him—the sofa was empty. The man who had been lying there just minutes ago had vanished without a trace, as if he had somehow sensed Euihyun’s intentions. Stunned, Euihyun scanned the drawing room. There was no way a man could disappear just like that.
And, Yeo Taeju was anything but a ghost.
