Dirty Switch

Homework.
It was just dressed up nicely, but in the end, wasn’t it just another way of saying let’s have sex?
Joo Taehyun covered one ear with his hand, tilting his head slightly as if stretching his neck muscles. He didn’t want Seo Baekhan to see how red his earlobe had gotten.

“Ah, if you’re really not feeling well tomorrow, just let me know.”
“I… I think I’ll be fine.”
He tried to reply quickly, but his voice cracked just a little at the end. Still, Baekhan didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s nice being a guy at times like this. Heals quickly, body’s sturdy.”
“Haha, right.”
…He really didn’t seem to notice—so much so that it was a little heartbreaking.

***
Hey, so nothing actually happened, right?
I don’t have to worry about that scrap of paper that asshole gave you, right?
8:15 PM
8:15 PM
Yeah. Just in case, I told my brothers too.
Ugh fucking Kim Seungjun, even his face is fucking annoying.
He shoved his mug in my face and started that bullshit,
Scared the shit out of me, seriously.
8:15 PM
“Who is it?”

Seo Baekhan was still paying the bill when he asked, just as Taehyun was catching up on a delayed reply to Cheon Seungpil. The timing was unfortunate. Considering their conversation from a few days ago, Baekhan didn’t seem to have a particularly favorable opinion of Seungpil.
“…My siblings. My brothers and sister.”
“Ah.”

Just in case, he immediately pulled up their sibling group chat to cover his tracks. In truth, he had shared what Seungpil had told him with his brothers and sister.
Joo Taehyun wasn’t taking Kim Seungjun’s threats all that seriously.
“Dirty ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) Switch” usage rumors were common gossip attached to well-known figures—especially those who married within their own designation. Even the DH Group was managing public opinion by brushing it off as nothing more than trivial.

Even if Kim Seungjun did somehow have a receipt or record of Taehyun’s purchase, it wouldn’t be easy to blow it up.
Taehyun had ordered the drug not from the permissive West Coast or indulgent New York, but from Washington. And while that city wasn’t exactly clean either, it was crawling with U.S. policymakers, aides, top-tier journalists, and NGO reps—more common than street vendor hot dogs.
And obviously, those people used drugs too.
Even if not themselves, then their spouses or children—someone close was likely dabbling recreationally. Dirty Switch? That was practically vanilla.

Joo Taehyun was confident that not even Seo Baekhan could untangle the intricate knots unique to Washington, much less Kim Seungjun.
It wasn’t for nothing that the media constantly churned out articles about sketchy drugmakers or mafia cartels operating near campuses in that area.
Sure, he might be young, and even a sheltered chaebol brat—but he wasn’t so naïve that he’d recklessly buy drugs without accounting for that.

Still, the fact that Kim Seungjun had gone out of his way to approach Cheon Seungpil and shove a cheap printout in his face was unsettling.
According to Seungpil, he’d only gotten involved because DH Group and Seo Baekhan’s people were all ignoring him. But based on what Taehyun had confirmed, Kim Seungjun hadn’t contacted anyone from either side.
Huh? This is the first I’m hearing of this. That bastard’s always had it out for my baby. If he pulls that shit again? I seriously won’t let it slide.

And you think Assemblyman Seo would’ve let that slide? He’s still blocking every gender-designate bill by clinging to the Crown Prince’s faction. If he caught wind of that kind of sleaze, they would’ve gone on the offensive immediately.
With his siblings speaking that confidently, it had to be true.
They had told him to leave the rest to them. That their youngest didn’t need to stress over this mess.

But how was he supposed to just let it go?
He was twenty-six now. Not some baby chaebol heir who could just hide behind grown-ups forever.
Most of all, there was one thing he hadn’t been able to confess to even his family. Not his parents, not his brothers, not his sister—none of them knew that he had lied, claiming he used the Switch for health reasons… when in truth, it had been to hold onto Seo Baekhan.

“Thank you again for coming.”
Following Seo Baekhan around like a waterweed drifting in his wake, Taehyun finally snapped out of it when the restaurant manager offered a bright, polite farewell.
“No, thank you. The dessert was lovely—and delicious.”

“…Thank you for being considerate. And I’m sorry again for last time.”
“Haha. With how close you two are, I’m the one who feels lucky. Please enjoy the rest of your evening, and come visit again. Congratulations once more on your anniversary.”
“Guess we’ll have to come here every year now. Right, Taehyun?”

As the manager gave them an over-the-top send-off, Joo Taehyun merely offered a slight nod. He wasn’t the friendly type like Baekhan, and honestly, just moving his neck or bowing his waist still felt like too much. He had rested plenty since the other day and thought he’d be fine by now—but strangely, today hurt more than any other.
Maybe it was just that the meal earlier hadn’t really sat well with him.
Hm. Alright. Let’s go with that wine for this part of the course.

Seo Baekhan was surprisingly flexible when it came to food. He had clear preferences, sure—but he’d eat what was there, and if nothing was, he’d manage just as fine. Probably thanks to his father being a politician. Between the royals and high officials, they all had to eat politely, no matter what was served, to survive press photos.
But today, Seo Baekhan was behaving like a man on a mission. He nitpicked everything—wine pairings, how much the food was cooked, even plating techniques. He even commented on optional sauces and spice adjustments. At least he didn’t send anything back to be redone.
Was I being extra picky today?

“…Well, maybe a little.”
As the course was ending, Baekhan asked playfully. But Taehyun had no idea what kind of response he was fishing for. Was he trying to show Taehyun his true preferences? Was this his way of telling him to remember for future meals?
Truth be told, this was their first real one-on-one dinner. Sure, they’d nibbled on finger food at events or shared a table at formal luncheons and galas—but never anything where he got to see what Baekhan actually liked.

So he had assumed that when there were no eyes on them, Baekhan simply liked to be picky.
Normally, I’m not. I eat whatever’s served so no one talks. Not really a foodie, either.
Mmm. That must be because of Assemblyman Seo, right? He listened with practiced indifference, but Taehyun had his ears wide open. Baekhan’s sudden confession caught him off guard—not in content, but in timing. Why say all this now?

But today, I suddenly had a craving. So I made time, even when I was busy, to come to this kind of restaurant. And if I do that—then I want it made to my taste. Exactly. Perfectly.
Baekhan added with a teasing “no exceptions.”
I don’t care about the chef’s standards. What matters is mine. My palate. It has to match that.

Ah… Now Taehyun was starting to get it. Why Baekhan had been so particular. Why he’d brought this up right as the meal ended. Anyone with half a brain would realize—he wasn’t just talking about food.
I know I’m not easy. I know it can be annoying for whoever I’m with.
Though he had set down his utensils silently, Taehyun swore he could still hear them clatter. He drank water just to avoid gnawing at his lips. Even that was a habit Baekhan had trained into him—no chewing the lower lip, even when anxious.

But what can I do? That’s just how I am. I need things done my way, or it won’t sit right with me.
So… throughout tonight’s dinner, Baekhan had been giving him subtle clues about the “homework” to come.
If it was something that had to happen anyway, something he’d take responsibility for—then he wanted to do it his way. He was asking: Taehyun, can you handle that?

Taehyun stared at the perfect meal in front of him. Already beautiful on its own, it had become even more flawless thanks to Baekhan’s tweaks. Regardless of whether it suited his taste, it was delicious and aesthetically stunning.
What do you think, Taehyun, about this bad habit of mine?
If he were to say something like “You’re even pickier than I thought, hyung,” then Baekhan would probably respond the same way he did at Yeonhwagung—just sex. Dumping his load inside and filling him with pheromones. That kind of arrangement.

But he didn’t want to give a bland, meaningless answer like “Well, as long as it tastes good, right?” There was clearly a reason Baekhan had wrapped this message in such twisted metaphors.
And if—if—he managed to say something that Baekhan actually liked… maybe, just maybe, he’d get something that actually resembled sex.
What should he say to make Baekhan interested?

What should he do now to erase the pathetic mess he’d made at Yeonhwagung?
What kind of reaction would make Baekhan stop thinking of sex with him as some homework or obligation?
Taehyun’s throat felt dry, and he set down his utensils to take a sip of water. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Baekhan discreetly checking his table manners.

So he never bothered looking before. And now he’s finally taking note.
Suppressing the bitterness rising in his chest, Taehyun forced his mouth into a stiff line.
“…I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tasted it before.”

Wearing the mask of “Joo Taehyun, spouse of Director Seo Baekhan”—the one who always got praised—he gave a casual shrug.
It was the cleverest, most strategic response he could think of right now.