A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 33

It wasn’t just his thumb. His intense gaze seemed to brush against my lips as well, as if tracing their shape.

His breath, cautious and barely there, ghosted over my skin, mingling with the familiar scent of his cologne.

The moment my lips parted slightly under the light pressure of his touch, I snapped back to reality.

“Ah.”

Half-lidded eyes widened in an instant as I met his gaze.

“I-Is there… something on my lips?”

“Soy sauce.”

Unlike my flustered stammer, his deep voice remained steady.

“B-But I don’t think any soy sauce splattered here….”

As I rubbed my lips, stepping back, he leaned in just as much, closing the distance again.

His voice was a quiet murmur, almost to himself. I instinctively tilted my head, trying to catch his words.

“…Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

Taejoon frowned slightly, as if telling me not to ask again.

“How’s your eye?”

“It’s fine….”

“It looks red.”

His fingers brushed lightly against my lashes.

“R-Really?”

Blinking rapidly, I took another step back. My mouth felt inexplicably dry as I scrambled for words.

“M-Maybe it’s the wine? Oh, right! That must be it. I’ve never had wine before, so….”

Following my gaze, he glanced at the table, where my empty glass sat.

“Wine?”

“I-I might be drunk…? Or maybe some soy sauce got into my eye without me realizing….”

I rubbed at my eye with the back of my hand, blinking quickly.

“Wait, hold on. You didn’t do that on purpose, did you? Were you waiting for me to open the cap so you could—pop!”

“You really think I’m the kind of lunatic who goes around splattering soy sauce on people’s faces?”

As he leaned in, I instinctively leaned back in my chair.

“Uh, we’re way too close right now….”

I kept shifting backward, but there was nowhere left to go. Pressing a hand firmly over my lips, I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Move your hand.”

What now?

He wasn’t actually thinking about… kissing me, was he?

“…No.”

“Move it.”

“I said no.”

“Why?”

His eyes held the exasperation of someone dealing with a particularly stubborn child.

“B-Because it just… it kind of feels like you might suddenly pounce on me….”

“Me?”

At that exact moment, my chair, already tilted to its limit, wobbled and lost balance.

“Whoa—!”

As I flailed in surprise, Taejoon—who had shot up from his seat—grabbed the hem of my shirt in an attempt to catch me.

With only one functional arm, he lacked control over his grip.

The result? A series of buttons popped off my shirt with an audible rip.

Thankfully, it was just the chair that had fallen, not me. Still, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.

“See? I told you to stop getting so close…!”

Taejoon raised both hands in the air as if to prove his innocence.

That was when I realized—I was clinging to his waist.

A wave of heat surged through my body, as if someone had dumped a bucket of boiling water over my head.

“Agh…!”

Scrambling to cover my exposed chest, I quickly backed away from him.

“S-Sorry. I-I didn’t mean to—”

The chair lay toppled on the floor, buttons scattered everywhere, and the table was in complete disarray.

Taejoon surveyed the chaotic scene and remarked dryly, “What a mess. If soy sauce spills on you one more time, we might have a real crisis.”

Ugh, that damn soy sauce!

“J-Just a second—I need to wash up.”

I hurriedly made my escape, practically sprinting toward the bathroom.

By the time I reached the sink, my face was burning. My heart, which had been fluttering moments ago, was now hammering so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

Had I really gotten tipsy from just a few sips of wine?

Why was it so hot in here?

I felt like I needed a cold shower.

Cranking the faucet to the coldest setting, I splashed water onto my face.

Why is the water still lukewarm? I turned the knob all the way to cold, yet my body refused to cool down.

“Is this… some kind of side effect? Have I been isolated for so long that I’m starting to get flustered just from being around another person…?”

What was I even thinking? Taejoon wasn’t just anyone. He was the kind of man who could make people turn their heads on the street—undeniably handsome.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, my face still damp from washing up.

Flushed cheeks and a racing heartbeat could be blamed on the wine, but the way my lips kept curling into a ridiculous smile? That made no sense. What was I even smiling about in this situation?

I smacked both cheeks with a sharp clap and wiped off the remaining moisture with a towel.

“Get a grip. Focus!”

Maybe I was getting too caught up in the mood of the original story.

After all, Hyun Woo Kyung in Alcohol Swab had loved Taejoon deeply, right up until his final breath.

But that was his story, not mine.

My lips still tingled where Taejoon had touched them, making me press my teeth against them absentmindedly as I stared at the bathroom door.

I was done washing up, and my face was dry, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to step outside just yet.

And I definitely couldn’t go back to him wearing a half-buttoned shirt with my chest practically exposed.

I needed to grab a fresh set of clothes from my room. But to do that, I’d have to pass through the living room again.

After hesitating for what felt like forever, I finally cracked the door open.

“….”

Neatly folded just outside the door was a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

No way. Did Taejoon leave these here?

Bowing slightly in gratitude to the empty hallway, I quickly stripped off my ruined shirt and changed into the fresh clothes.

My heartbeat was still erratic, but having something clean on made me feel at least a little more composed.

It was like a switch inside me had briefly malfunctioned and was now—thankfully—back in working order.

“Executive Director?”

The dining table had already been cleared. Instead, Taejoon’s voice came from the dimly lit living room.

Just the thought of facing him again wiped away whatever dumb smile had been lingering on my lips.

I planned to just say a quick goodnight and head straight to my room. That was the plan.

Or at least, it was the plan.

“Oh… right.”

As I walked toward the living room, his deep, steady voice carried through the air.

“…Kim, set up a meeting later.”

He was on a call, most likely discussing work with Manager Kim.

“Send someone else. Or you can go in my place.”

Sensing my presence, Taejoon lifted his gaze, eyes locking onto mine.

After a brief pause, he spoke again.

“…Never mind. Tell them I’ll go to Jeju myself.”

Then, he gestured toward the sofa, signaling me to sit.

Jeju?

That was where Hyun Woo Kyung’s family home was located.

I’d always planned to go there at some point.

Curious, I slowly approached the couch, keeping my ears open for any more details from his conversation.

On the coffee table in front of the sofa sat a bottle of wine, dried fruit, nuts, and cheese. The pieces were cut roughly, placed haphazardly on the plate, yet somehow still looked presentable.

Did Taejoon prepare this himself?

Tilting my head slightly, I perched on the sofa, waiting for his call to end.

His responses were short and infrequent, making it impossible to guess the full context of the conversation.

Bored, I grabbed a few dried fruits and switched on the TV, muting the volume as I scrolled through the movie selection.

“Thinking about watching something?”

At some point, Taejoon had ended the call and turned his attention to me.

“Not really. Just browsing.”

“What kind of movies do you like?”

I glanced at the screen.

The movies currently listed were ones I had already seen. I had spent so much time alone in this house that I’d gone through both new releases and classics alike.

“What about you, Executive Director? What kind of movies do you like?”

“Hmm. Haven’t had time to watch any lately.”

“In that case, pick whatever looks interesting to you.”

I handed him the remote.

But instead of selecting a movie, Taejoon kept flipping through the options, pressing buttons with no real decision in sight.

Everything he clicked on showed the same message: Already Watched.

He probably found it annoying to pick something I hadn’t seen yet.

“You seem like the type to enjoy noir films.”

“Noir?”

“You might know them—movies like Infernal Affairs or New World.”

Taejoon tilted his head slightly.

“You think I’m into gangster films because I look like one?”

The way he looked at me—calm but vaguely menacing—sent a shiver down my spine.

“N-No! I just meant… um… you look cool, that’s all.”

Seemingly satisfied with that response, he smirked slightly before shifting his gaze back to the screen.

“Both of those movies are about cops betraying their own.”

Now that he mentioned it, both stories revolved around undercover officers infiltrating crime syndicates—or the other way around.

“B-Betrayal…? Oh. Yeah, I guess that’s true. I don’t really like that part either.”

Most people watched from the protagonist’s perspective, sympathizing with their choices.

But judging by Taejoon’s reaction, he wasn’t thinking like an audience member—he was considering it from the criminal’s point of view, the one being betrayed.

“Are noir films your preference?”

“Well, I…”

If I had to name my favorite genre, I could say it with confidence.

It wasn’t about action, romance, or mystery.

It was simply Do Hyuntae.

If he was in it, I liked it.

I had rewatched every drama and movie he had ever starred in, even owning limited-edition signed DVDs.

So really, my taste in film wasn’t bound by genre—it was bound by him.

“I like all kinds of movies.”

“Then.”

Taejoon swirled his wine glass before bringing it to his lips.

“How do you feel about sad endings?”

“Sad endings?”

He let a small pause settle before clarifying.

“Yeah. Terminal illness stories, for example.”

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