Beom couldn't hear the words, but he didn't need to—he could see the effect Sasha's presence was having on them. The color drained from the policemen's faces, leaving them pale and visibly shaken. Whatever Sasha was saying, it was enough to make them rethink everything. They looked over at Beom, their eyes wide with something close to fear, then dipped their heads in apology before retreating quickly, whispering to each other as they exited the shop.
The sudden silence left Beom standing there, his head bowed and his body still trembling from the encounter. His fists clenched at his sides as he tried to steady his breathing, his mind racing from the intensity of it all. He heard Sasha's footsteps approaching, calm and steady as they came closer. Then, Sasha's face appeared in his line of sight, bending down to meet him eye-to-eye.
"Beom, are you okay?" Sasha's voice was softer, almost gentle, as if he were genuinely concerned. He leaned closer, trying to catch Beom's gaze, clearly not understanding the storm brewing inside him.
Beom muttered something under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. Sasha leaned in even closer, his ear tilted toward Beom to hear what he was saying.
But before he could register the words, Beom's fist flew up, connecting with Sasha's jaw in a solid, bone-rattling punch. "You son of a bitch!" Beom's voice was a furious snarl as his knuckles collided with Sasha's face. The force of the hit made Sasha's head snap to the side, his smirk wiped away in an instant.
Sasha stumbled back a step, his hand instinctively reaching up to his jaw as he blinked in surprise. His face registered a mix of shock and, surprisingly, a spark of amusement as he straightened, rolling his jaw as if testing it. Slowly, he looked back at Beom, a grin creeping onto his face, though there was a dangerous glint in his eyes now.
Beom's chest heaved as he glared up at Sasha, his fists still clenched and his entire body tense. "What's wrong with you, huh?" he demanded, his voice trembling with the intensity of his anger. "You left me there, humiliated me, and gave me a useless card! What, did you think this was all some kind of joke?"
Sasha held the card up between his fingers, his smirk widening as he inspected it with an exaggerated curiosity. Beom watched him, annoyance bubbling over as he noticed the glint of mischief in Sasha's eyes. Sasha's lips curled up even more as he finally shrugged, handing the card back to Beom with an almost careless apology. "Oh… yeah… my bad. I guess I gave you the wrong card. Sorry," he said, though the word "sorry" dripped with sarcasm, barely sounding sincere.
Beom clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he muttered, "Asshole." He resisted the urge to punch him again, every inch of him radiating annoyance. Sasha's arrogance was infuriating, especially since he seemed to take a twisted enjoyment out of watching Beom squirm.
Beom glanced around, eyes suspicious, his mind racing as he tried to piece things together. "How did you know I was here?" he asked, his voice sharp and probing. "This is way too convenient… It's almost like you knew this would happen." His gaze locked on Sasha, a single eyebrow raised, demanding an answer. Sasha simply looked back at him with that same smug look, his head tilted in feigned innocence.
Sasha raised his arms in a half-hearted shrug, his eyes darting around as if he'd only just noticed their surroundings. "What place is this?" he asked, looking around as if he were truly oblivious. His gaze landed on the small, bustling food stand with people sitting on stools and steam rising from pots of simmering broth.
Beom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A food vendor," he answered slowly, as though explaining to a child.
Sasha's eyes lit up in feigned realization, his lips curling in a smirk that made Beom want to throttle him. "And what do we come here to do? Eat, right?" Sasha asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "Because I'm pretty sure we don't come here to… well… have sex," he added with a raised eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. He shrugged casually, as if it were all just a coincidence. "So I came to eat and… oh, look at that. Coincidentally ran into you," he finished, turning away with a wink as he strolled toward the food vendor to place his order.
Beom watched him, his blood boiling as he stared at Sasha's back, his fists still clenched tightly at his sides. This man was completely unbelievable. Sasha carried himself with such nonchalance, as if every situation played out just the way he wanted, always one step ahead, always in control. It made Beom grit his teeth in frustration; Sasha was like a puzzle that refused to be solved, constantly keeping him off balance.
As Sasha leaned on the counter, ordering his food, he looked back over his shoulder, shooting Beom a mischievous smile. The way he stood there, utterly unfazed and utterly in control, only added fuel to Beom's irritation. He felt as though he was being toyed with, as though Sasha was purposefully leading him along with breadcrumbs, keeping him guessing. The whole situation felt orchestrated, like Sasha had planned this encounter just to rattle him, to push his buttons and watch his reaction.
"Are you just going to stand there looking mad?" Sasha called back, clearly reveling in Beom's frustration as he took his time, ordering his food with a leisurely air. "Or are you going to come over and eat something? You look like you could use it."
Beom narrowed his eyes, watching Sasha with a mix of irritation and curiosity as he leaned back in his chair. "I already ate," he muttered, folding his arms as he slid into one of the empty tables behind him. He couldn't shake the frustration that had been simmering in his chest since Sasha had appeared, effortlessly turning his day into a whirlwind of confusion and chaos.
Without missing a beat, Sasha followed him, taking a seat directly across from him. Beom could feel Sasha's presence; even when he wasn't looking directly at him, it was like Sasha's energy filled the space, intense and undeniable. He leaned back, observing Sasha, his eyes narrowing as Sasha calmly poured himself a glass of water, taking a sip with complete nonchalance, as if they were merely two friends catching up instead of rivals embroiled in an unspoken battle of wills.
Beom tilted his head, eyes focused on Sasha's face, trying to read the expression behind those sly eyes. He couldn't help but ask, "What did you tell the police that made them look so pale and scared?" There was an edge to his voice, his curiosity tinged with a hint of annoyance, as if he already knew Sasha's answer would somehow make him want to punch him.
Sasha didn't even flinch. He simply shrugged, setting the glass down with an elegant ease that felt almost taunting. He met Beom's gaze with that familiar, self-assured smirk. "Oh, nothing too dramatic," he drawled, pausing just long enough to keep Beom hanging on his every word. "I just told them that you're my crazy husband and that you're, well… a little sick in the head. So, naturally, you sometimes do, you know, 'crazy' things." Sasha finished his sentence with a casual wave of his hand, as if he were merely recounting some trivial detail, his lips curling up in a smirk as he took another leisurely sip of water.
Beom's jaw dropped for a split second, his expression shifting between shock, indignation, and sheer disbelief. He let out a bitter laugh, leaning forward with a sharp glare. "You told them what?" he spat, his voice low but seething. He could almost feel his blood pressure rising as Sasha's words sank in, each one feeling like a deliberate jab to his pride.
Sasha's eyes sparkled with amusement, as if he were savoring every bit of Beom's reaction. "What? It worked, didn't it?" he said smoothly, not even remotely fazed by Beom's glare. He leaned back, his posture relaxed, completely unbothered by the fact that he'd just labeled Beom as his 'crazy husband' to get him out of trouble. "They looked like they couldn't get away fast enough, if you ask me."
Beom ran a hand over his face, groaning inwardly, feeling both exasperated and embarrassed. The sheer audacity of Sasha was astounding. "You really thought that was the best idea?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice calm, though the disbelief was clear. "Do you just… make these things up on the spot, or do you actually think them through?"
Sasha chuckled, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Beom with a mischievous gleam. "Beom, you really need to relax. Sometimes, you have to get creative with the truth to get what you want," he replied, as if he were imparting some great life lesson. "Besides," he added with a slight grin, "I thought you'd appreciate the irony."
Beom gritted his teeth, barely managing to hold back a retort. The nerve of this man, he thought, as he leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest defensively. And yet, as much as Sasha infuriated him, Beom couldn't ignore the twisted charm that seemed to radiate off him, drawing him in despite himself.
Sasha watched him closely, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, clearly enjoying every second of Beom's reaction. It was like he thrived off the tension, the challenge, as if getting under Beom's skin was his favorite game. Finally, Sasha leaned forward, his eyes meeting Beom's with a spark of something both playful and intense. "Besides," he said in a softer tone, though his smirk never wavered, "you're cute when you're angry."
Beom's cheeks flushed as he felt his anger mix with something else, something that made his pulse race. He quickly looked away, scowling, determined not to let Sasha see how affected he was. "You're insufferable," he muttered, though his voice had lost some of its edge.
Sasha's eyes lit up as the woman approached their table with his meal, the savory aroma wafting up and filling the small space between them. "Ahh… my food is here," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his voice carrying a trace of satisfaction as he rubbed his hands together with anticipation.
The woman, a server with a soft smile and attentive demeanor, carefully placed the steaming plates on the table. As she set down the last dish, she straightened up, nodding politely as she prepared to step away. But just as she turned, Sasha's hand moved with a swiftness that left Beom momentarily frozen. With a slight smirk, Sasha reached out and gave her a firm slap on the ass, the sound faint but unmistakable. The woman gasped, her eyes widening as she looked over her shoulder, but Sasha merely winked at her with a devilish grin, his gaze calm and assured.
Beom's jaw practically dropped. He stared, mouth slightly open, as Sasha's nonchalance transformed the simple gesture into something brazen and shameless. The audacity was staggering, yet Sasha seemed completely unbothered by it, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. His smirk never faded, and he went right back to his food as though nothing had happened.
In that instant, Beom couldn't help but wonder: Is he some kind of international playboy? The thought flashed through his mind, followed by a wave of both bewilderment and irritation. Sasha didn't just walk into a room; he commandeered it. His presence was intense, unapologetic, and utterly shameless. Does he really go around charming every person he meets? Beom thought, his brows knitting together as he tried to make sense of it. He'd never met someone who exuded this much raw confidence, who seemed to operate by his own set of rules, one where boundaries didn't seem to exist.
Still reeling from the shock, Beom tried to mask his reaction, but Sasha noticed, his eyes glancing up to catch Beom's expression. "What?" Sasha asked with a playful raise of his eyebrow, clearly amused by the look on Beom's face. He picked up his chopsticks, twirling them between his fingers before starting to eat, as if daring Beom to say something.
Beom scowled, his irritation mounting. "Do you… always do things like that?" he managed, his tone somewhere between incredulous and indignant. He still couldn't believe Sasha had just casually done something so bold.
Sasha chuckled, taking a slow bite of his food, clearly savoring both the flavor and the moment. He leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed as he gave Beom a knowing look. "Sometimes," he replied casually, a slight grin tugging at his lips. "It's all in good fun. Besides…" He shrugged, looking entirely too comfortable under Beom's glare. "I think she liked it."
Beom rolled his eyes, feeling both exasperated and slightly embarrassed. He crossed his arms tightly, trying to steady himself against the whirlwind that was Sasha's energy. What kind of person just goes around doing whatever he wants, without a hint of hesitation?