“No—wait.”

Cha Uijae cut Sa-young off as he stared at the sudden tent in the black shearling jacket. Sa-young swept his slightly damp hair back and narrowed his eyes.

“You know you’re really weird, right?”

Yours is weirder. Yours is the real problem right now.

Uijae was serious. Even covered by the jacket, it stood straight and advertised its presence. Like its owner, it was aggressively assertive. Whether his crotch was hidden by outerwear or not, Sa-young leaned in and kissed the back of Uijae’s neck. Uijae tilted his head back, baring his throat, and asked a fundamental question.

“Sa-young… you. Does your semen have poison in it too?”

A question someone somewhere must have wondered about—
but one no one dared to ask out loud, for fear of getting hauled off for sexual harassment the moment it left their mouth.