Beom tried to refocus on his book, letting the calm of the room settle over him once again. But just as he felt himself sinking back into his thoughts, a firm knock on the door made him jolt. The tension in the room sharpened as two train inspectors entered, the polished brass buttons on their uniforms gleaming under the fluorescent light.
Beom handed over his passport as nonchalantly as possible, but a pang of anxiety twisted in his stomach. One of the inspectors caught his eye—a tall, shadowy figure with a serious face that seemed vaguely familiar. Beom's mind raced, trying to place where he'd seen him before. Then it clicked. When they boarded, this same inspector had looked at him oddly, lingering longer than normal. At the time, Beom had shrugged it off, assuming he was just paranoid. Now, though, his heart pounded as that familiar face stared down at his passport.
I really hope they don't catch on. I changed everything—hair, clothes, even the damn accent. There's no way they can link me back... right? Beom thought, trying to convince himself even as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His hands tensed, gripping his knees under the table.
"Everything clear," the first officer announced, finally looking away from the passports and handing them back. Beom nearly exhaled in relief, feeling his shoulders start to relax. But just as the inspectors were turning to leave, the taller one paused and turned back, his eyes flicking suspiciously between Beom and Sasha.
"Gentlemen, please lean against the wall. We'll need to conduct an inspection."
Beom's heart dropped, his chest tightening as he fought to keep his face neutral. "What?" he muttered before he could stop himself. He felt Sasha's gaze, calm but sharp, nudging him to keep his cool.
Damn it, Beom, play it cool, he scolded himself. It's just a standard inspection. They don't know anything. They're just doing their jobs. Even though he knew arguing would only make them more suspicious, the surge of frustration and panic flared up. They're going to search us. What if they find something? What if they recognize me after all?
He stole a quick glance at Sasha, who looked almost unfazed, like he'd been through this a thousand times. Of course he's calm. Sasha probably has a whole routine for situations like this. Meanwhile, I'm out here sweating like a guilty kid caught sneaking candy.
Beom's pulse quickened as the inspector moved closer, his sharp gaze darting across Beom's frame with unnerving scrutiny. The silence in the room grew heavy, each passing second amplifying Beom's discomfort. This guy is acting way too thorough, Beom thought, trying to keep his breathing steady. Why is he taking so long? This can't just be protocol.
The inspector's hands began their so-called "inspection," starting with Beom's shoulders and then moving downward. Beom grit his teeth as the man's hands brushed past his thighs, lingering just a little too long. Alright, this is getting weird. Move on, man, he thought, his irritation growing by the second.
But then, to Beom's shock, the inspector's hand shifted to his ass, giving it a deliberate squeeze.
Beom's eyes widened, a wave of disbelief crashing over him. Did that just happen? His mind raced, caught between outrage and confusion. Uh, excuse me? What the actual fuck?! He wanted to speak, but the words stuck in his throat, blocked by a mix of rage and disbelief.
The inspector didn't stop there. His hands slid to Beom's front, skimming over his abdomen before moving upward to his chest. Then, without warning, the man grabbed Beom's chest and squeezed, as if testing its firmness.
That was the final straw.
Beom's face contorted with fury as he grabbed the inspector by the collar, yanking him forward with a force that made the man stumble. His fist clenched, hovering just inches from the inspector's terrified face.
"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME, YOU FUCKING HOMO!" Beom roared, his voice echoing through the small room like a thunderclap. His chest heaved as anger surged through him, his muscles taut with restraint as he fought the urge to swing.
The inspector's face turned pale, his confidence crumbling under Beom's fiery glare. He stammered incoherently, his earlier boldness replaced with sheer panic. Without another word, he wrenched himself free and bolted for the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape.
Beom stood there, chest rising and falling, his hand still raised as if frozen mid-punch. His thoughts churned like a storm. What the hell was that? Did he really just cop a feel like I'm some damn toy? Who even does that during an inspection? His jaw clenched as the realization settled in. If Sasha wasn't here, I would've decked that pervert so hard he'd forget his own name.
He turned slightly, catching Sasha's expression—a mix of amusement and curiosity, like he was holding back a laugh.
"Not. One. Word," Beom snapped, his voice low and menacing, pointing a warning finger at Sasha.
Sasha raised his hands in mock surrender, the corner of his lips twitching as if suppressing a smirk. "Didn't say anything," he muttered, though his tone carried that ever-present teasing edge.
Beom let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair to calm himself. This mission is seriously testing my patience.
Beom threw himself onto the bed, letting out a frustrated huff as he tried to shake off the memory of the inspector's invasive hands. He could still feel the phantom touch of those unwelcome squeezes, and it made his skin crawl. Before he could fully settle, Sasha leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips.
"Looks like that inspector likes you," Sasha drawled, his tone oozing amusement.
Beom shot him a glare, his face still burning from both anger and embarrassment. "More like my body," he muttered, folding his arms defensively across his chest.
Sasha chuckled, his smirk widening. "And who wouldn't?" he said casually, as if stating the weather. "You've got a great ass, nice chest, and let's not forget—those beautiful hips." He gestured lazily toward Beom, his teasing words punctuated by an exaggerated glance up and down.
Beom's eyes widened, his jaw nearly dropping. "Beautiful hips?!" he repeated, his voice pitching in indignation. "Are you seriously objectifying me right now?!"
Sasha's smirk didn't waver. "Just stating facts," he said, shrugging as if it were the most natural observation in the world.
"Facts my ass!" Beom shot back, sitting upright and pointing at Sasha. "First of all, stop talking about my ass like it's some prized treasure! And second, my hips are fine—normal, even. Not 'beautiful.' What does that even mean?!"
Sasha's laugh escaped him, a deep, rumbling sound that only made Beom's irritation grow. "Relax, Beom," he said, waving a hand. "It's not my fault you've got assets people can't ignore."
"Assets?!" Beom exclaimed, practically choking on the word. He buried his face in his hands, groaning. "I swear, you're worse than that inspector. At least he didn't give me a running commentary!"
Sasha grinned, clearly enjoying Beom's flustered state. "Come on, admit it. You're flattered."
Beom dropped his hands to glare at him. "Flattered?! By a creepy inspector and now you?! Yeah, I feel just amazing. What's next? Are you going to write a sonnet about my 'beautiful hips'?"
Sasha tilted his head, pretending to think. "Hmm, that's an idea. 'Oh, Beom's hips, a marvel of design...'"
"Shut. Up." Beom grabbed a pillow and launched it at Sasha, who caught it effortlessly, laughing harder now. "You're insufferable!"
"You're just mad because I'm right," Sasha teased, plopping onto his own bed and leaning back, still smirking.
Beom flopped back onto his bed, groaning into the mattress. This guy has no boundaries. None. His thoughts raced as he tried to recover from the embarrassment. First the inspector, and now Sasha's out here ranking my 'features' like I'm on some freakin' auction block. Why is this my life?
Finally, he muttered, voice muffled by the mattress, "I can't believe I'm stuck in this tin can of a train with a certified pervert. This mission's gonna kill me."
Sasha's laugh echoed through the room. "Oh, lighten up, Beom. It's just harmless fun."
Beom turned his head, glaring at him again. "I hope you fall off the bed in your sleep."
Sasha winked. "I'll be dreaming of your beautiful hips while I do."
Beom let out an exasperated groan, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. This mission is going to be the death of me. Forget the enemies—I'm going to lose it because of him.
Beom sighed as the train rocked gently, his gaze fixed out the window as endless fields blurred past under the sun's golden glow. It had been a day since he boarded the train, and the suffocating tension of staying low loomed over him like a shadow. Sasha, unusually quiet for once, had been busying himself with his own thoughts or distractions. Beom welcomed the silence, though his nerves were anything but calm.
The person they were avoiding—Namjoon Park, a sharp-eyed man who seemed too aware of his surroundings—had been keeping mostly to himself in his private compartment, rarely stepping out except for brief trips to the restroom. This didn't comfort Beom; if anything, it made the man more unpredictable.
"Why does he seem so familiar?" Beom thought, his mind replaying brief flashes of their boarding, where Namjoon's scrutinizing gaze had lingered on him for a moment too long. It left a strange impression, one he couldn't quite shake.
Then came Sasha's "brilliant" idea. While Namjoon had slipped out to the bathroom, Sasha, with his usual sly smile, had slipped into the man's compartment. Beom, leaning against the doorframe of their shared cabin, groaned as he saw Sasha return moments later with a smug grin on his face.
"You didn't..." Beom started, though he already knew the answer.
"I did," Sasha said, tossing a small spy cam in his hand like it was a trophy. "Just a little insurance in case things go south."
Beom frowned deeply, running a hand through his hair. "This is insane. What if he catches on? What if he finds it?"
Sasha chuckled, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. "Then he'll just think it's the train security, won't he? Relax, wolf boy. I know what I'm doing."
"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of..." Beom muttered under his breath.