Third Day — Sodom or Gomorrah Past midnight, someone knocked on the door. “Wait for me. Whether it’s here or the room, I’ll go wherever the Sailor is.” Thinking of what Number 3 had said, Jiwon opened the door without a shred of suspicion. “You’re not even going to ask who it is? Were you waiting for someone?” Jiwon hemmed and blocked Han Seoho, who tried to step into the room. “Let’s talk out here.” He slipped into casual speech for a moment, but then reverted to honorifics as usual. Han Seoho didn’t bother asking why the honorifics. Instead, he furrowed his pretty brow and glanced into the room, as if to check that Jiwon really was alone. “What business do you have with Minjae hyung?” Han Seoho asked like it was nothing. He yawned, acting like he wasn’t actually curious. Truly a shallow friend. “Is that what you came to ask?” Han Seoho nodded guilelessly. “Were you the one who was with Minjae just now?” “Yes. I told him not to open the door. It’s so cold down there I can’t stand it.” With that, he let slip that the two of them had had sex. This time he sought agreement about the mission. Jiwon gazed at him in silence. Han Seoho was the type who couldn’t stand silence. “But why do you keep going to Minjae hyung? What’s the reason? I’m dying of curiosity here.” As expected, he spoke up again and didn’t hide his true intent this time. “Why are you curious about that?” Suspicious, that he’d come all the way to Jiwon’s door to ask the reason when he wasn’t even Minjae’s lover. Most likely—almost certainly—management had asked Han Seoho to find out why. Looked like they’d seen him knock on Choi Minjae’s door on CCTV too. He had shown up that day without a plan, but he felt some relief that his improvising had worked. “You two barely talk. If you were even sort-of a thing, maybe not you, but Minjae hyung would’ve made it obvious as hell, right?” He subtly probed Jiwon. “How would you know whether we had a thing or not?” At Jiwon’s words, Han Seoho raised his eyebrows. “What, did we send telepathy or something?” Jiwon asked, sarcastic. He wouldn’t have seen Jiwon talking with Choi Minjae, so of course he’d be suspicious. “You don’t need to know that much.” “Wow, hyung, you’re like a completely different person.” Han Seoho overacted like he was scared, even pretending to shiver. “Is Minjae hyung your type? Don’t tell me it’s unrequited love?” He pressed, relentless. So we’re not getting away with vague answers. Jiwon let out a long sigh and folded his arms. “When someone steals your lover, isn’t that how everyone is? If it were you, would you sit still?” The word lover coming out of Jiwon’s mouth made Han Seoho even more shocked. “Lover? What lover? Minjae hyung never said anything.” Maybe flustered, he fired off questions back-to-back. “Who talks to a new lover about their ex. Kills the mood.” “Ex? D-Don’t tell me you two d-dated? Where? Outside?” He was even stuttering. “I’ll leave that to your imagination. We’re done here, right?” Jiwon went to shut the door. “Really? For real? You two were lovers?” But Han Seoho grabbed the door and wouldn’t let go. Just when Jiwon was thinking they’d have to do a late-night test of strength, he saw Number 3 walking this way. “Seoho, I’ve got someone waiting for me....” He lifted his head and looked toward Number 3. Number 3 threw both hands up and waved wildly. He fussed like a child. After eleven at night, the crews from the other teams finally finished restoration work, ate a late-night snack, and trickled back to the dorms, but for some reason a few from Team 1—including Number 3—were nowhere to be seen. Jiwon, who’d had nothing but thin porridge, had no energy at all, so he’d planned to turn Number 3 away if he showed. But not seeing him at all made Jiwon worry, and despite himself he waited and waited. Not that Number 3 was the only reason he wasn’t asleep. Partly it was that damned knife under his mattress, but the biggest reason was that he still hadn’t decided what to do. Yoon Jiwon had never once been called indecisive, but this time he had no choice but to agonize. For a full eighteen months, Jiwon sucked dildos and practiced oral sex, and to do male-male sex that wasn’t even a taste of his, he abused his own hole. That wasn’t all. For nearly a year he’d scrabbled by on lousy food, shelter, and clothing and done every kind of manual labor. Thinking only of revenge, he’d given everything to become the real Kim Jiwon. The effort of his life. And yet, just because he’d nearly been killed by someone close to him, it wasn’t easy to throw it all away. He’d nearly been killed by Number 11, Kang Jooyoung, too, even with all his precautions. So why was he fine then but not now? When Number 3 carried him out, Jiwon had wanted to scrap the revenge and live his life. He’d decided to seize an opportunity and escape this place, to forget the unhappy past and return to being an ordinary me. But the more he mulled it over, the more he couldn’t shake the feeling that decision had been rash. Then again, what would he gain by getting killed doing this perverted shit? He had to wonder. Only then did the plan to make his own corpse into evidence start to feel absurd. Honestly, what good is it if you’re dead. No matter how much he wanted to become evidence, would that go the way he wanted? Who’s to say he wouldn’t be found by them before Detective Kim Gyeongseok, ground to powder, buried in the ground, or else dumped in water? Then his death would be no better than a dog’s death. All the plans that had seemed flawless till now were so full of holes it was laughable. Blinded by revenge, his judgment had been completely clouded—Jiwon sighed. Not knowing how much time he had left only made him more antsy. Hide-and-Seek would start soon. It could be tomorrow; it could be an hour from now. Probably—no, certainly—that would be his only chance to escape. If he truly wanted to escape, he had to seize it. He felt like he could stay up all night and still not reach a conclusion. And yet, the moment he saw Number 3, the will to live surged up and made a mockery of all his tortured thinking. His will to live settled in, shockingly firm. Whether it was that man’s blessed looks or that killer cock—he didn’t know, but right now he wanted to live. Right as his eyes were about to sting, “Wanna make it a threesome?” Number 3 asked Jiwon. Hah! Jiwon gave a short laugh. Any tears vanished cleanly. Number 3 said it right to Han Seoho’s face. Han Seoho didn’t even look toward the voice; he just screwed up his expression. “Fuck you,” he muttered low enough only Jiwon could hear, then changed his face like nothing had happened. Han Seoho flicked his middle finger at Number 3 with a sweet smile. Number 3 flipped him the bird in return. Jiwon shook his head at how childish they were and then, remembering their ages, laughed. Twenty-three and twenty-five. Adults, but young enough. With a reluctant look, Han Seoho glanced once at Jiwon and once at Number 3, then stepped back from the door. And then Number 3, as if it were his room, passed by Han Seoho and Jiwon and went in first. “Why was he in that room?” Loud enough for Han Seoho to hear, but Han Seoho pretended not to and went on his way. Jiwon kept the door open and watched to see where Han Seoho would go. Instead of his own room, /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ he walked across to the side where Team 1 and Team 2 lodged. Was he going back to Choi Minjae? Jiwon craned his neck to see better—and got yanked into the room in a flash. The door shut in his face. Number 3 asked again. Jiwon turned to answer—and his eyes flew wide. Somehow, Number 3 was naked, catching his gaze. A body he’d touched, bitten, and sucked until he was sick of it, and still it startled him like the first time. A body perfect and beautiful to a staggering degree. Most shocking were that face and that cock. Perfectly Jiwon’s type. Whose type wouldn’t it be. “When we get out of here.” He almost asked, without even knowing the man’s name. He hurried to get his head straight. Number 3 strode up and brought his face to Jiwon’s. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝·𝘧𝙞𝙧𝙚·𝔫𝔢𝔱 “When we get out of here?” “It’s nothing. I misspoke.” Jiwon tried to gloss it over, “Wanna date, you and me?” Number 3 asked, like he’d read Jiwon’s mind. Jiwon was struck silent for a moment, then barely came to, and “Who dates a pervert,” Words he didn’t mean. Number 3’s pretty mouth and cool eyes curved at once as he laughed, then he took Jiwon’s hand and drew him to the bed. “Exactly. Who dates a pervert.” He tipped his chin at Jiwon and threw his words back at him. They laughed together. The mood couldn’t have been warmer, but neither of them kissed or hugged the other. Both knew they weren’t that close, and they kept the line. “If—really if—we did date... where would we meet?” “It has to be really an if.” He emphasized again, and Jiwon shrugged off his robe. They faced each other naked. “Got it. Really an if. You’ll only see me if it’s really an if, right? That it?” Number 3 teased him, echoing Jiwon’s own words. “No, where would we meet?” Jiwon was the one who’d put the if-limit on it, and now he was the one anxious. “Where do you want to meet?” Number 3 asked as he brought his hand to Jiwon’s chest. Looked like he was going to undo the bandage. “They said not to take that off.” Jiwon muttered, looking at Number 3’s hand already holding the end of the bandage. Would the pigment come off with saliva? Thinking something absurd, he watched the bandage unwind. “Are you obsessed with chests too?” Number 3 laughed at that. “Didn’t used to be, but now I’m crazy interested. Don’t want to lose it.” Words that made no sense. Before he knew it, the bandage was gone and the nipples and areolas showed, a deep pink and slightly swollen. Number 3 opened his mouth wide toward the spot, sticky with ointment. He said something that made no sense again—and took Jiwon’s chest into his mouth. He sucked hard enough to make a loud, juicy slurp.