"What the fuck is this man trying to do?" Beom thought, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He stiffened, his grip on his towel tightening. Sasha was leaning ever so slightly closer, his hand beginning to rise like a slow-motion predator. It took Beom exactly half a second to realize the target of Sasha's bold intent: his ass.
"Oh, hell no," Beom's mind yelled. Not today, Satan.
Reacting swiftly, Beom stomped down hard on Sasha's foot, earning a satisfying grunt of pain. Before Sasha could recover, Beom followed up by slamming the back of his head into Sasha's forehead with surprising accuracy. A dull thud echoed in the room as Sasha staggered back, clutching his forehead. But Beom wasn't done. With the adrenaline of righteous indignation coursing through him, he grabbed Sasha by the neck in a chokehold and unceremoniously threw him onto the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Sasha lay sprawled on the ground, momentarily stunned, blinking up at the trembling Beom like he had just been tackled by an angry squirrel. Beom stood there, panting, his hands shaking slightly as he rubbed the back of his head, muttering incoherently.
Then Sasha started laughing—loud, hearty laughter that echoed off the sauna walls. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as he gasped for breath, his lips curling into an amused grin.
"Oh my, my… I guess I shouldn't have underestimated short people," Sasha said, his tone dripping with mockery as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.
Beom froze, blinking. His trembling subsided, replaced by simmering outrage. "Short people?" Beom hissed through clenched teeth, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.
Sasha smirked. "What now, little man? You gonna go running to Mommy?"
Beom scoffed, flipping him an exaggerated middle finger without hesitation. "Damn right, I'm gonna tell her! I'll let her know that some bleach-haired asshole was trying to harass me by grabbing my goddamn ass! And trust me, she'll probably come after you with a rolling pin." Beom pointed accusingly at Sasha, his face flushing red—not just from anger but the absurdity of the situation.
Sasha was now laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. "You're something else, Beom," he said between chuckles, watching as Beom bent down to snatch up his towel, adjusting it firmly around his waist.
Beom turned on his heel with dramatic flair, his back straight despite the wobble in his steps. "Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, his cheeks still pink. As he stomped toward the door, he added, "Next time, try that shit, and I'll send you back to heaven with a limp!"
The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Sasha on the floor, still laughing and thoroughly entertained.
Beom sat slouched in the chair, draped in a blanket, his hair disheveled, looking like he hadn't slept in days. His laptop balanced precariously on his knees as he furiously clicked and refreshed the screen. "Why isn't this stupid thing connecting?" he muttered, glaring at the Wi-Fi icon as if his sheer frustration could make it work. "Another day of stress and no progress. Fantastic. Thanks, universe," he grumbled, rubbing his temples like he could massage away the headache brewing.
The faint sound of footsteps barely registered until—
SHALALAA.
The aroma of something unmistakably familiar wafted through the room, and Beom's head snapped up so fast it could've caused whiplash. His tired, dull eyes widened in shock, then glistened with pure, unadulterated joy. "Is that—?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, his nose twitching as he inhaled deeply. The scent of gochujang and sesame oil hit him like a warm hug from home. He turned his gaze, and there stood Sasha, holding a steaming bowl of bibimbap, the spicy noodles practically glowing with divine light.
In that moment, Sasha wasn't just a man; he was an angel. No—he was a god, a bringer of salvation. A halo practically appeared above his blonde head, and Beom swore he heard a choir of invisible Korean aunties singing in harmony.
"A Korean lady handed me this earlier," Sasha said casually, smirking as he took a seat. "Told her I had a Korean friend who might like it. She called it...uh...bibimbap, right?"
Beom's gaze locked onto the bowl like a predator stalking its prey. "Where...food...I want..." Beom muttered, his English skills suddenly regressing as his brain prioritized one thing and one thing only: getting that bowl. He scrambled out of his chair, the blanket dropping to the floor. "Spicy noodles!" he cried, his voice cracking as he sprinted toward Sasha, arms outstretched like a desperate child.
But Sasha, clearly enjoying the show, raised the bowl high above his head, smirking even harder. "Say please," he teased, leaning back just enough to keep the food out of Beom's reach.
Beom froze, glaring at him with betrayal written all over his face. "Please?" he scoffed. "I don't have time for pleasantries! Give me the food before I—" He jumped, but Sasha's long arm easily kept the bowl out of reach. "Sasha! I swear to all the gods in Korea—gimme that now!" Beom shouted, jumping again, his fingers brushing the edge of the bowl but not quite grabbing it.
Sasha laughed, his deep chuckle infuriating Beom further. "Look at you, so tiny and feisty. Is this what hunger does to you?" he asked, still holding the bowl like a prize.
"Hunger?!" Beom spat, hopping again, flailing his arms. "This isn't just hunger! This is patriotism, you blonde lunatic! That bowl contains my cultural essence! My soul! Give it to me before I starve and haunt you for eternity!"
Sasha tilted his head, pretending to think. "Hmm...I don't know. Maybe if you admit I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you."
Beom paused, narrowing his eyes. "You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me!" he snapped, jumping higher this time, nearly colliding into Sasha.
Sasha grinned. "Then I guess I'm keeping this."
Beom stopped, trembling with desperation, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He looked up at Sasha, his lips quivering. "You wouldn't... You can't. That's war, Sasha. War."
Sasha chuckled, finally lowering the bowl just slightly, but Beom was done waiting. With a burst of energy fueled by sheer determination, Beom lunged, snatched the bowl from Sasha's hands, and cradled it like a newborn baby.
"Mine!" Beom hissed, glaring at Sasha as he backed away toward the corner, clutching the noodles protectively. "Don't even think about it."
Sasha leaned back, arms crossed, still smirking. "You're lucky you're cute when you're desperate."
Beom ignored him, already shoveling a mouthful of noodles into his mouth. His eyes rolled back as the spicy, tangy flavors exploded on his tongue. "Mmm! Oh, yes! This is it! This is the taste of life!" he moaned dramatically, tears forming in his eyes. "You're forgiven, Sasha. But only for now."
Beom was completely immersed in the bowl of bibimbap, savoring each spicy, umami bite as if it were his last meal on Earth. His eyes were practically closed in bliss as he stuffed his mouth, barely breathing between bites. This is it. This is why I was born. To eat bibimbap in peace. He twirled another mouthful of noodles onto his chopsticks, humming in satisfaction.
But peace wasn't meant to last.
Suddenly, Beom felt a presence behind him—large, warm hands brushing over his shoulders, moving in slow circles as if testing the waters. He stiffened mid-chew. What the hell is this guy doing now? His eyes darted sideways, unwilling to stop eating but fully aware Sasha was up to no good.
The hands slid lower, grazing his sides. Then, without warning, Sasha's chest pressed against Beom's back, radiating warmth and mischief. Beom's eyes shot wide open, noodles dangling from his mouth as his brain screamed, Oh hell no! Abort mission!
"I must say," Sasha drawled, his voice practically purring, "your body reminds me of a muscular woman. Strong, soft in all the right places. Honestly, all you'd need is to swap out your manhood for a vagina, and you'd be perfect."
The chopsticks froze mid-air as Beom processed the audacity of that statement. Did this asshole just—?! His jaw tightened, and he finished chewing with the slow, deliberate energy of a man plotting murder.
He swallowed hard, slapped Sasha's hand off with a sharp motion, and stood up, brushing invisible crumbs off his pants as if Sasha's comment hadn't just shattered his mood. "Thanks for the meal," he said flatly, his tone polite but dripping with sarcasm. Without sparing Sasha a glance, he marched toward the door, muttering under his breath. "Next time, I'm eating in a locked room."
Sasha chuckled behind him, leaning back lazily on the couch. "One day," he called out, his grin widening, "I'll fuck that attitude out of you."
Beom stopped in his tracks for a split second, his hand twitching toward the doorframe. Don't turn around, Beom. Don't give him the satisfaction. He clenched his jaw and stormed out, but in his head, he was fuming. This psycho! Muscular woman? Really? I'll show him muscular when I choke him in his sleep. Replace my manhood? This guy's lucky I didn't replace his teeth with bibimbap!
As he walked down the hall, he muttered under his breath, "Stupid blonde giant with his dumb smirks and stupid perfect jawline. Why's he always gotta mess with me? Can't a guy just eat his noodles in peace without being compared to a damn Amazon warrior?!"
Beom shook his head, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Next time, Sasha. Next time, it's bibimbap and fists.
Beom sat at the table, his phone connected to his laptop, fingers drumming anxiously as the call finally went through. "Finally...some decent connection," he muttered, leaning back in his chair with a relieved sigh. His thoughts raced, the image of Nakwon's worried face flashing in his mind. "I'm pretty sure Nakwon's been panicking. Bet he thought I was dead or something."
The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
"Hello, Nakwon here," came the crisp reply.
Beom smirked slightly. "Hello, it's Beom."
There was silence for a beat. Then chaos.
"BEOM! IT'S BEOM!" Nakwon's voice erupted with enough enthusiasm to make Beom flinch, quickly followed by muffled shouting and the telltale clatter of a phone being put on loudspeaker.
"Geez, calm down," Beom muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
"Beom! Are you okay? How are you?" Nakwon's voice boomed, now echoing across the room full of agents.
"I'm fine," Beom replied with a light chuckle. Then he paused, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Wait...am I on loudspeaker?"
"Uh...yes," Nakwon admitted sheepishly. "Everyone wanted to know if you were still alive. You kind of disappeared, and we hadn't heard from you in, like, forever."
Beom let out an exasperated laugh, rubbing his temple. "Still alive or dead? What am I, an urban legend?"
"I'm perfectly fine," Beom reassured, his tone casual but warm. "It's just that I get busy, you know? Forget to check in. But hey, while I've got you, did you do that research I asked for on Sasha?"
At the mention of Sasha, Nakwon's tone shifted, and Beom heard the shuffle of the phone being taken off loudspeaker. "Yeah, I'm sending it to you now," Nakwon said. "But honestly...there's nothing much. He's just...a guy. A random dude."
Beom's laptop pinged, signaling the arrival of the file. He opened it quickly, eyes scanning the screen. "Just a random dude?" Beom echoed skeptically, clicking through the pages.
"Well," Nakwon hesitated, "it does say here that his mom was...uh...a prostitute."
Beom froze mid-scroll, his brow furrowing. "What?"
"Yeah, that's all I could find," Nakwon continued. "No record of her name, though. It's like she vanished. As for Sasha...I mean, he's clean. Surprisingly. No major crimes or connections to any big mafia families—"
"Hold up," Beom interrupted, leaning closer to his laptop. His mind raced, processing the information. "A random guy, huh? There's no way it's that simple. Nothing about Sasha is random."
Nakwon continued rambling on the other end of the line, but Beom barely heard him. His eyes were glued to the screen, scanning every detail of the sparse file. He clicked through photos, scanned birth records, anything he could find.
Finally, Nakwon's voice cut through his thoughts. "Beom? You still there?"
"Yeah," Beom said, his tone distracted. "I'm here. Thanks for the file, Nakwon. I'll look into it more myself."
"Don't disappear again, you hear me?" Nakwon said, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. "And tell that Sasha guy we're keeping an eye on him."
Beom chuckled lightly, leaning back in his chair. "Sure thing. Take care, Nakwon."
As the call ended, Beom stared at the screen, his thoughts whirling. "Nothing major in his past? No connections? Just a mom who was a prostitute and then disappeared?" He rubbed his chin, his gut telling him there was more to Sasha than what met the eye.
"Just a random guy, huh?" Beom thought with a dry smirk. "Guess I'll find out for myself if that's true."
Beom's eyes narrowed as he skimmed through the file, his fingers scrolling steadily on the laptop touchpad. The information was sparse—too sparse, in fact. His instincts screamed that something was missing.
"Hmmm," he muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Nothing about this guy says 'just a random dude.' I mean, after all that's happened? Nah… he's definitely hiding something."