The roasted chicken salad on the table had barely been touched when Baek Soo‑kyung made an excuse about something urgent and left.

Standing by the window, Qi Huai watched Baek Soo‑kyung rush into Choi Min‑jun’s car, his expression dark and unreadable.

The system, staring viciously at the back of Min‑jun’s car, gnashed its teeth:
[That scumbag gong number two suddenly taking Baek Soo‑kyung away at this hour—he must be planning to do something dirty, right? Ugh! Despicable! He must’ve forced the protagonist shou, leaving behind that huge hickey! What a pervert! His mouth is like a suction cup!]

“Did Min‑jun come looking for him?” Qi Huai asked with a playful smile.

The system’s loud voice cut off abruptly:
[Didn’t he? What do you mean?]

Qi Huai drew the curtains shut again.
“From what I know, Min‑jun should be very busy today. It’s January, the transition between two fiscal years, and many company departments are drafting plans for the coming year. The production team also has one planning meeting after another. His schedule should be completely packed. So what urgent matter would make him drive dozens of minutes just to pick someone up from downstairs at my place?”

[Oh… That’s true…] 

The system scratched its head.
[So you mean the protagonist shou left on his own? But why?]

Could it be that he was afraid Qi Huai would notice the hickey on his neck? Considering the shou’s thin‑skinned, shy personality, that sounded plausible. The system thought to itself that the protagonist shou probably just didn’t want anyone finding out about his entanglement with Min‑jun or Park Seok‑jin. Poor boy.

Qi Huai crossed his arms and paced around the apartment, first glancing over the living room before moving into the bedroom.

He stopped near the bed—right by the spot Baek Soo‑kyung had stood earlier—and his gaze fell upon the small knife on the nightstand.

The next second, he bent down and reached under the bed for a pouch containing his passports.

Ah. As expected.
It had been tampered with.

The system was startled:
[Wait—what?! You mean—]

Qi Huai opened the plastic bag and laid the passports flat.
“The order’s been messed up.”

He always kept them in a very particular sequence. Whoever had rifled through them hadn’t noticed these details.

The system shrieked:
[You’re saying the protagonist shou ran off because he discovered something suspicious about your identity?! Oh no! What do we do!? It hasn’t even been a month yet—you can’t make you second wish! What if he calls the police? If you get arrested, we’re doomed!]

Qi Huai carefully re‑hid the passports in a different spot. Inwardly, he wondered—did Baek Soo‑kyung leave merely because the passports frightened him?

A nineteen‑year‑old, after all, couldn’t perfectly conceal his emotions. From the moment he got out of the car, Baek Soo‑kyung had grown increasingly subdued, and that forced smile of his—Qi Huai had noticed it all.

But beyond that… what intrigued Qi Huai most was—
Why would a guest, while visiting someone’s home, rummage under the host’s bed in the first place?

Could this have to do with Choi Min‑jun?
Or was Min‑jun really just a convenient chauffeur? If it was the latter, then what had Baek Soo‑kyung’s true goal been?

Even with his keen intellect, Qi Huai felt baffled. He sighed softly:
“Baek Soo‑kyung…”

[Hmm?] the system asked.

Qi Huai smiled faintly.
“As for his level of ‘pure love’… I’ll reserve judgment for now.”

Perhaps the protagonist shou wasn’t as innocent as they had assumed.

__

“Did he suspect you?”

Choi Min‑jun parked the car a couple of blocks from Qi Huai’s residence, scrolling through videos and photos on his phone with a stony face.

Baek Soo‑kyung hastily waved his hands:
“No, Min‑jun hyung! We just bumped into each other by chance today. He helped me get rid of those debt collectors—otherwise I never would’ve met him, much less gone to his house.”

“Oh?” Min‑jun intoned. “Going to his house—was that your idea, or his?”

Baek Soo‑kyung faltered:
“It… it was mine…”

He quickly added:
“But it was only because I suddenly remembered what you asked me to do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have suggested it.”

“Is that so?” Min‑jun leaned in with amusement, taking a sniff of him.
“You two, did you…?”

Baek Soo‑kyung’s eyes widened in shock:
“No! We just had some roasted chicken salad; nothing else happened!”

Hearing that, Min‑jun’s interest waned.
“Mm. Well, even if he didn’t get suspicious, what you did was still reckless. Don’t show too many unusual behaviors around him for now, understand?”

Baek Soo‑kyung nodded furiously.
“I understand, hyung. But… I couldn’t plant the bug. Time wasn’t enough, I’m sorry…”

He hesitated—clearly wishing to ask why Min‑jun wanted surveillance on Qi Huai. Was it only to get leverage over Yoon Nam‑hyuk? Or was there some deeper secret Qi Huai was hiding?

But Baek Soo‑kyung knew his status didn’t allow him to question Min‑jun too much. He should be obedient. At least in front of Min‑jun hyung, he mustn’t pry.

“What is it? You want to ask why I’m so interested in Qi Huai?” Min‑jun asked with a faint smile as he transferred the video of the passports Baek had filmed to his own phone, then deleted them from Baek’s device.

“Soo‑kyung, you’re still far too young,” Min‑jun said.
“When you’re my age, you’ll understand—sometimes the shortest path to a goal isn’t the easiest one to take. You know billiards, right? To sink a ball, sometimes it’s easier to use another ball’s momentum instead of striking it directly. This matter stays between us. Don’t mention it to anyone. Understood?”

Baek Soo‑kyung didn’t fully grasp it, but obediently nodded.
“Yes, Min‑jun hyung, I understand.”

“As for the bug, leave it aside. These photos and videos are already useful. Seems our actor Qi has plenty of secrets. I really should investigate further.”

“Hyung…” Baek Soo‑kyung stammered nervously, “if his identity really is suspicious, will the company terminate his contract?”

Min‑jun’s lips quirked upward.
“Do you want him terminated?”

Baek Soo‑kyung stumbled over his words:
“O‑of course not! That’s not what I meant!”

“Then why did you tell me about it?” Min‑jun asked, amused.

He laughed inwardly at how ruthless this young man could be. Just saved by Qi Huai, fed dinner at his expense—yet the moment he found a secret, he exposed it to someone else without hesitation.

Pale and flustered, Baek Soo‑kyung scrambled to explain:
“I… I don’t know. I was just scared and so nervous and didn’t know who else to confide in. The only person I could think of was you. You’re the one I’m closest to, the one I trust the most, so I…”

“Haha. Relax, I was teasing. Don’t cry on me, now.”

Baek Soo‑kyung’s earnest little confession pleased Min‑jun greatly. He pulled the boy close, kissing him—lips trailing down to the hickey Park Seok‑jin had left earlier that afternoon.

“Don’t be afraid. You did well.” Min‑jun murmured against his skin, hands moving ceaselessly as Baek’s eyes glazed with confusion and heat.
“When you don’t know what to do, just ask me. I’ll be the one you’re closest to. Understood?”

Red‑faced and trembling, Baek Soo‑kyung nodded.
“I know, Min‑jun hyung… Min‑jun hyung, I’m—ah—”

“Shh.” Min‑jun stroked him through his climax, savoring the shiver of youth beneath his touch.

When it was over, he whispered:
“I’ll help you secure a third‑male role. So you’d better work hard, Soo‑kyung.”

Baek Soo‑kyung’s eyes lit up instantly.
“A male third lead… really, hyung?”

Min‑jun burst out laughing.
“All that fuss over such a small role! Tell me, then—how will you repay me?”

Flushed with excitement, Baek Soo‑kyung buried his face eagerly into Min‑jun’s lap.