Dirty Switch

“So this is the lounge, and down there are the staff offices. Go one more floor down and you’ll find the reception, staff meeting room, and the association president’s office.”
With three transparent walls and a glass elevator installed nearby, it wasn’t hard to guess the general layout from where Seo Baekhan gestured.
“But does the lounge have any other purpose on non-event days?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. I’m thinking it’ll be a place for full members to hang out. We’re planning to leave it open so anyone with a membership can drop by whenever.”
Then Baekhan leaned slightly toward Joo Taehyun.
“What do you think? Perfect spot for a little shady conspiracy, right?”

…Maybe he could say things like that, up close and with such nonchalance, because he still saw Taehyun as a harmless kid. Taehyun didn’t answer—he just quietly sipped his juice.
Not that Baekhan seemed to expect a reply. He rested the arm holding his champagne glass casually against the railing, and propped his chin in the other hand. Somehow, he managed to keep the glass tilted just right so the drink didn’t spill.
With each breath he took, the frothy liquid in the tall, elegant flute rose to the rim and receded again. Just watching it was enough to make Taehyun’s throat feel parched from the tension.

Whether or not he noticed Taehyun staring holes into him, Baekhan seemed more focused on the flurry of movement downstairs where people were carrying equipment.
At first, Taehyun assumed he was just checking in on the office setup. But surprisingly, Baekhan looked lost in thought. It was an expression that suited him—one that paired well with the word “rumination.” Taehyun left him be and instead busied himself watching the elevators going up and down.
…This isn’t so bad, either.

Back when he first met Baekhan, their conversations never stopped. But now, just quietly staying by his side like this felt good in its own way.
“...His Highness Prince Yi Hwang says Haechi shouldn’t be about politics or factions, but... I still haven’t figured out how to keep them out.”
After what felt like a long silence, Baekhan finally spoke. His voice, like during the phone call the night before, had that roughened edge again.

“Well, you’re human too. You’re allowed to dislike some people.”
“It’s not really about liking or disliking anyone in particular... I just find myself constantly thinking in terms of trait carriers. My situation, my interests... it all naturally leads there.”
“This isn’t how I’m supposed to see the world,” he murmured, taking a sip from his glass. His Adam’s apple moved visibly with the gulp, and bubbles frothed up from the bottom of the champagne. Taehyun stared absently at the tiny, fragile fizz, then snapped his gaze to the edge of the railing, afraid Baekhan might catch him looking.

Taehyun might not have any friends, but he could still recognize that this was one of those moments—when you had to say something. Anything to blur the boundary line between them. To soften the distance just a little.
But thanks to his wrecked social skills, no appropriate sentence came to mind.
He didn’t have that ease, the ability to speak as if no time had passed, even when seeing someone after a long while. Like Baekhan, who acted like they’d seen each other just yesterday. Taehyun didn’t know how to pull that off.
People who could strike up conversation with anyone, anywhere, anytime—it made you realize that smooth dialogue didn’t always mean the other person liked you. It just meant they were good at talking.

Sometimes, when silence hung between them like this, it felt like if he just said the right thing, he could finally get closer.
Taehyun wanted, more than anything, to reach Baekhan. Even a little. Yes... what he really wanted was to become his friend. On the outside, he looked calm like a swan gliding on a lake—but below the surface, he was paddling frantically just to keep afloat.
Maybe… just maybe, the reason Baekhan seemed so unaffected was because he really didn’t assign any meaning to him. Taehyun might be no more significant than the champagne in his hand, or the office supplies he glanced at, or one of a thousand decorative lights in the skyline—something he’d barely remember encountering.

Whereas for Taehyun, Baekhan was so…
“Hey! Seo Baekhan!”
A voice cut through the entire event hall, loud enough to drown out the din. Both Baekhan and Taehyun turned their heads at the same time.

“Oh, Choi Yeonjun.”
“...Hello.”
“Oh? Ohh, hey! You’re Taehyun, right? Wow, you’ve gotten so tall!”

It was Seo Baekhan’s friend, Choi Yeonjun—someone Taehyun had met and exchanged greetings with a few times.
Choi Yeonjun was training to inherit his family’s craft in mother-of-pearl lacquerware, with relatives on both sides recognized in the field of antiquities. He once said his dream was to be designated as an intangible cultural asset before turning fifty.
Though his personality and interests were almost the polar opposite of Baekhan’s, the two somehow stuck together. In some strange way, they fit.

“Someone was looking for you.”
“Ah, come on. Just tell them to talk to Prince Yi Hwang.”
“Really? Even if it’s Seyeon?”

Baekhan, who’d been leaning languidly against the railing until now, suddenly straightened. ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) Seyeon…? Who was that? It was a name Taehyun had never heard before.
“She said her flight got delayed.”
“Yeah, but apparently things worked out better than expected.”

“Hm.”
“What’s that reaction? Aren’t you going to see her?”
Baekhan ran a hand over his forehead and held out his hand toward Taehyun. What? Did he want to hold hands or something? Confused, Taehyun blinked. Then Baekhan tilted his chin toward the empty juice glass.

Oh. Ohh… He wanted the glass back.
Still blinking, Taehyun finally stretched out his hand and gave him the juice.
“You thought I wanted to hold your hand, didn’t you.”

“...I didn’t.”
With practiced ease, Baekhan held both the champagne and juice glasses in one hand, and with the other, tugged Taehyun toward him by the shoulder. Like a paper doll, Taehyun flopped helplessly into his chest—and a deeper, denser scent of peaches than he remembered surrounded him.
“Your family really did raise you too delicately.”

Taehyun blinked, ears bright red, still dazed.
What was with this guy? They were both trait carriers—school emphasized over and over again how physical contact should be handled with care. Did he skip class? Graduate without learning anything?
“Ugh. I must be tired. I feel tipsy already.”

“Are you insane? From a few sips of champagne?”
“Choi Yeonjun, I slept thirty minutes in the last two days.”
Nestled in Baekhan’s arms like a beloved plush toy, Taehyun sniffed hesitantly. Did he change suppressants? The pheromone wasn’t as overpowering as it used to be, but the sensation that came through his skin was somehow stronger.

…Ah.
Only a beat late, Taehyun remembered the Sex Education for Trait-Carrying High Schoolers guide he’d read in the car.