Yueul was still staring down at the credit card Wooheon had handed him, torn with hesitation.
Woohui slipped back into the room, grabbed Yueul’s wrist, and tugged him along, card in hand.
The strength of it pulled him off balance.
“I’m taking him out on a date. See you.”
“What?”
“I-I’ll be back later, Mr. Kang.”
The middle door swung open, shut again, and the lock beeped before slamming closed.
Left staring helplessly after them, Wooheon dropped onto the sofa.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He wanted to follow, but what he had to do now mattered too much—he couldn’t.
“Should’ve called Wooseok instead.”
Wooheon scrubbed both hands down his face, lowering his head at last.
After staring at the floor in torment, he scrambled for his phone and fired off a message to Yueul.
[If my ssiter does anything weird or creepy, call me. I’ll come even if Im bsuy.]
He was so rattled he made more than one typo.
Then he messaged Woohui—his fingers just as frantic.
