JGA CH2

Chapter 2. The Cold Bathtub

When Qi Huai was pinned to the floor by Yoon Nam-hyuk, his first reaction was that the other man was surprisingly strong.

But compared to an Alpha, that strength still fell short… even if it was an Alpha whose biological traits had been suppressed by the Mainframe.

The system shrank into the corner, covering its eyes as it squealed in panic: [Omo, omo! Host oppa! Are you about to get forced by Gong No.1? Host oppa!]

Qi Huai’s ears buzzed. He cursed inwardly for it to shut up, then flipped Yoon Nam-hyuk over and pressed him down in return.

Body heat seeped through their suits where they were pressed together. Yoon Nam-hyuk clenched his jaw, suppressing the familiar surge of desire, and sneered with a curled lip.

“Ha… bastard. Not bad. Are you a hired thug?”

Someone who drugged him like this and still looked so handsome—Yoon Nam-hyuk had assumed the man was here to do that kind of thing. But the truth was turning out differently than expected.

Qi Huai sighed. “I’m not a thug, nor a bad guy. Just a passerby, sir.”

“…Hngh…”

His breath brushed against Yoon Nam-hyuk’s ear, raising goosebumps all over. Yoon Nam-hyuk whipped his head around and glared.

“Then get off me! You mutt!”

What a temper.

Qi Huai frowned. “And you’re not exactly speaking politely either, are you?”

Polite speech?

Yoon Nam-hyuk pulled out his right arm and slammed his elbow into Qi Huai’s cheek. With a crack, pain forced Qi Huai back two steps. Yoon Nam-hyuk’s cold voice followed:

“Please get off, you mutt.”

Qi Huai was silent for a moment. He brushed his thumb over the corner of his lip, split open against a tooth, then suddenly chuckled and muttered in Chinese, “…So easy to rile up.”

Yoon Nam-hyuk froze.

Chinese? He’s Chinese?

But before he could ask, Qi Huai lunged forward, wrapped an arm around his waist, clamped a hand over his mouth, and dragged him off like a package into the bathroom.

“Cool your temper.” Qi Huai smiled faintly and dumped Yoon Nam-hyuk into the cold, hard, circular bathtub.

“You—! Hck, cough, cough!”

His bones slammed against porcelain, pain jolting through him like they might shatter. Before he could curse, icy shower water cascaded down from the head, drenching his entire body.

Qi Huai leaned down, brows handsome, smiling gently. “Do you need me to adjust the water temperature, sir?”

Yoon Nam-hyuk’s anger spiked. He grabbed Qi Huai’s tie and yanked him forward. “No need. It’s just right.”

Bang!

Qi Huai was pulled straight into the tub. The collision sent both of them crashing down, a self-destructive move—hurting the enemy a thousand while injuring himself eight hundred.

Cold water spread across their bodies, filling the tub. Clothes grew heavy as they soaked. Bottles of essential oils toppled from the rack, spilling into the water, leaving a filmy sheen over the tub’s surface.

Burning hot inside, Yoon Nam-hyuk tried to push himself up with the tub’s edge, but the slick porcelain betrayed him, and he fell back into the water, choking on cold droplets tinged with freesia scent.

Qi Huai frowned.

He caught Yoon Nam-hyuk by the nape to lift him for air. But the bad-tempered man kicked him viciously instead, shoving him under.

Water splashed violently.

Their long legs tangled childishly—kicking, stomping, struggling—like two grade-schoolers brawling on instinct, heedless of defense.

Yoon Nam-hyuk bit down on his lips, the corners of his eyes wet and red, muffling the moans threatening to escape. He glared at Qi Huai, intent on knocking him out before the drug completely took over.

But by now, Qi Huai too was burning. Rubbed raw by Yoon Nam-hyuk’s thrashing, his mixed-blood eyes glimmered with a faint emerald tint. He grabbed Yoon Nam-hyuk’s belt and yanked it hard, forcing their tangled legs apart.

Being hauled up by the belt dug cruelly into Yoon Nam-hyuk’s hips, and he let out a muffled groan that carried pain… but also a strange undertone of pleasure.

His body curled instinctively, and despite himself, his forehead dropped onto Qi Huai’s shoulder. He gasped several breaths, then bit down savagely.

“—Tss!”

He bit him!

To Qi Huai, the pain felt more like foreplay than real harm. His breathing hitched, and faint notes of herbal fragrance seeped from his skin—an Alpha’s genetic residue. It wasn’t a true pheromone, but heat made it impossible to suppress.

What smell is that? Perfume?

Yoon Nam-hyuk flared his nostrils, loosening his bite. Qi Huai’s left fist braced on the tub floor, while his right hand clamped harder on Yoon Nam-hyuk’s lower back.

So hot. I want—

Yoon Nam-hyuk’s half-lidded eyes clouded further. The drug, the struggle, the icy water—all fanned his aching need.

Craving. Unbearable.

He had known this feeling since his teens. Yet he knew himself: his body betrayed him every time. No matter the desire, he could never go through with it—only fumble in vain, only to be disappointed again and again.

Stay awake. Don’t let this damn body—

For the first time, Yoon Nam-hyuk hated his own flesh more than ever, though self-disgust was no stranger to him.

The two of them wrestled in silence.

Suppressing their urges.

Their noses brushed, his red-mole-marked tip grazing Qi Huai’s neck. He drew in a trembling breath, then exhaled shakily. His hand groped underwater, clutched a bottle of essential oil, and squeezed tight as if to shatter it and stab himself.

Qi Huai noticed. He grabbed Yoon Nam-hyuk’s wrist and yanked his head up by his wet black hair, forcing him face-to-face.

Yoon Nam-hyuk groaned. Water dripped between them as his dark eyes struggled to focus on Qi Huai’s striking features. Lips bitten, he forced out two trembling words:

“Let. Go.”

The tail of his voice quivered with gasps, but the tone was unyielding.

He was already barely lucid.

So this was how, in the original manhwa, the protagonist shou was supposed to get forced?

Qi Huai frowned, shoved down his own rising desire, and half-dragged, half-carried the weakened Yoon Nam-hyuk out of the tub. He tossed him back onto the bed and grabbed the phone.

“Hello? Please notify the staff of Woosan Entertainment. Tell them President Yoon is drunk, and ask them to come pick him up from the lounge.”

He hung up and left.

The door slammed. Yoon Nam-hyuk’s tense back and forced composure collapsed instantly. He curled up, biting the quilt, grinding against it in muffled whimpers.

But he knew.

It was useless.

---

Qi Huai walked down the carpeted hotel corridor, dripping wet, looking like a pathetic joke.

He borrowed a decent set of clothes from a passing guest, leaving them his billion-won watch in return.

Then he hurled his soaked designer suit into the trash at the hall’s end, face dark with frustrated desire.

The system slunk behind him in silence, too scared to speak. Only when Qi Huai’s shoulders loosened and his handsome face wore a smile again did it dare stammer:

[Host oppa… are, are you okay?]

“Of course.” Qi Huai arched a brow. “Why ask that?”

The system nearly burst into tears.

Wasn’t this man supposed to be gentle, kind, and reliable—more human than an Alpha and emotionally stable?

So why did he feel like such a pervert?!

Mainframe, I want to go home!

Qi Huai drew a slow breath. “Has the mission progress updated?”

The system fluffed up timidly. 

[Yes… Gong No.1, Yoon Nam-hyuk, and the protagonist shou, Baek Soo-kyung, are still at the ‘Stranger’ stage. We successfully blocked their encounter.]

Because of a bug, the relationship metrics that should have been shown in percentages were now displayed only in stages:

Stranger → Acquaintance → Familiar → Ambiguous → Like → In Love → Marriage → Breakup.

Currently, aside from Gong No.2, Choi Min-jun—who, as Baek Soo-kyung’s manager, was naturally at “Familiar”—all others were still at “Stranger”.

This format made it harder for Qi Huai to gauge subtle shifts in progress and adjust his strategy.

But his thoughts were simple.

As long as the shou didn’t get tangled with any of these gongs, his chance of mission success was higher.

Worst case, he could play matchmaker and set the gongs up with someone else.

For now, he had to follow the plot.

Qi Huai needed to act in that movie and prevent Gong No.3, Park Seok-jin, from meeting the protagonist.

Hmm… what was that director’s name again? The one the original host met on the plane?

“Qi Huai!”

As he stepped back into the banquet hall, a man with shoulder-length hair under a beret approached with a broad grin. Around forty, dressed flamboyantly, his voice lively and warm.

“Daebak—you know you shine like a star in the crowd? This Christmas party has all of Korea’s biggest celebrities, but I still spotted you right away! Hahaha!”

Director Ahn Yonghe shook Qi Huai’s hand, winking. “Come on, give it a few years—soon people won’t just be talking about Park Seok-jin and Kim Min-kyung. They’ll be adding you to the list. Right?”

The system whispered in his ear: 

[Host oppa, this is Director Ahn Yonghe. A few days ago, your original body—Gong No.6—met him on the plane back from abroad. They hit it off, exchanged contacts, and Ahn invited him to cameo in his new film. Gong No.3 and the shou both joined through this same film.]

Oh, right. Ahn Yonghe.

Qi Huai smiled and chatted easily, steering around any mention of that fateful plane ride, leaving the director beaming. The man tugged him along, eager to introduce him to connections.

Qi Huai followed, listening as Ahn explained the “buzz” everyone had been gossiping about.

At the Blue Dragon Awards, both Gong No.3, Park Seok-jin, and Gong No.4, Kim Min-kyung, were nominated. But the trophy had gone to Kim Min-kyung.

RC Entertainment’s Kim Min-kyung, a rising star, had bagged awards quickly, while Woosan Entertainment’s ace, Park Seok-jin, had long been overshadowed—still called a talented actor, but never a Best Actor.

The two companies’ staff had clashed bitterly over it, even exchanging blows.

So tonight, everyone wondered—would Yoon Nam-hyuk, Woosan ’s president, and RC’s chairman, Eun Cheol-woo, confront each other?

Whether a fight or reconciliation, everyone wanted to watch.

“Too bad for them,” Ahn winked. “I heard President Yoon already left drunk. And Chairman Eun and Kim Min-kyung aren’t here yet. No drama tonight.”

“Is that so?” Qi Huai smiled. “Shame President Yoon drank so quickly.”

Ahn laughed. “I know him well—he can’t hold his liquor, hahaha!”

---

In the lounge.

Baek Soo-kyung sat frozen, wringing a shirt in his hands. He had been doing it for half an hour.

The door clicked. He jumped, fumbling the purple-wine-stained shirt in the sink.

“No need to wash that.”

Soo-kyung looked up, stunned. “Choi… Minjun-hyung?”

“Mhm.”

Choi Min-jun stepped in, lifted Soo-kyung’s hands from the water, and rubbed them gently. “Been washing a long time? Your hands are red. So earnest, huh?”

Soo-kyung yanked his hands back, drying them hastily on a towel. “Hyung, why are you here? I thought—”

“Soo-kyung.”

Choi Min-jun suddenly clamped his jaw, his voice slow but sharp with ice.

“Is your brain made of cotton? Do you think I’m in the mood to answer your questions right now? A kid with debts unpaid, barely clothed and fed, and you can’t even read the room? Hm?”

Soo-kyung paled, lips trembling. “I’m sorry, hyung. I was just nervous. I’m sorry.”

Choi Min-jun studied his doll-like face, then smiled faintly.

His hand slid from Soo-kyung’s lips down to his chest, his slim waist, and his rounded hips.

“Don’t… hyung, don’t…”

Soo-kyung whimpered, bracing for worse.

But Choi Min-jun let go, smiling.

“My good Soo-kyung… Our plan has to change a little, okay?”