#fyi. that brother of yours is kouji though

[socius-animae]

˖ ⁺ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺ *ੈ. 𑁍 ༘. ⋆ 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓷𝓲𝓬𝓮

𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐, 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆?

Can we call this a date? || Baek-Sang x Reader

Summary:

Exhausted by your brother's demands to have tofu, plus the annoying message ringing from the pink-haired man who re-dyed his hair telling you to check out Busan, you eventually come to the solution that you'll take a short walk to the market in Busan. Fortunately for you, you found a face that can amuse you.

Note:

3.2k words, written before chapter 536 and based on personal interpretation. It feels a bit ordinary but you might be interested in the last part.

Cw:

Violence, Threats, Intimidation. Only the last part.

This is absurdity when the world shows that anything can happen if it’s desired. Everything is essentially predetermined on a single path of destiny.

Here is a clear example. Just a few weeks ago, you receive information (and James rolls his eyes because you keep postpone your visit to Busan) that the King of Busan will be released from prison, and here you see a nameless henchman, handsome like an angel who rivals Eli’s glow-up.

Geez, obviously looking at how people around him can’t take their eyes off him either. Like, hello?! Hair fluttering, shining because of the wind coming from where? In this stuffy market? The vendor tents block the scorching sun, the fishy smell, and all sorts of things that can be sold in a typical market.

This person is clearly out of place; just look at how that old woman seems somewhat intimidated by his height, not to mention his serious gaze deciding which tofu to buy.

Yes, what a coincidence. Walking casually, you stop beside him, staring innocently as if you don’t know anything. “Hey, auntie? How much is this one?” You mischievously point to the one already targeted by this beautiful henchman.

The poor vendor feels the murderous gaze directed at you, stammering in response. “A… a, six hundred won for one piece. Do you want to buy it?” No matter how terrifying the bloodthirsty aura ready to pounce is, you just nod cheerfully.

“Wait, I want to buy that first.” There’s no shout of anger or a growl as you anticipated; this time you stop ignoring him. This henchman seems to be both fierce and calm by default, or maybe he’s a bit annoyed because you appeared out of nowhere and took something that should belong to Jinrang later?

Challenging him a little, you act confused. “Really? If that’s the problem, the vendor should have said that this one will be yours.” You turn to the vendor, making an obviously unimpressed expression, accusing. The one feeling accused (even though you’re not serious) starts to panic, stuttering more and turning pale.

Forgive me, auntie, you pray inwardly. But I will give you a tip!

“Alright, how about this. I let you buy this tofu, in exchange you’ll go on a date with me today. How about that?” Hmm, that sounds cooler in your mind than actually saying it.

Surprised, of course, passersby who overhear your conversation glance away in astonishment. The question is, who is this brave girl? Oh my God, such a tease. Disgusting, what the hell. Lastly, is the expression on Jinrang’s white-haired henchman’s face.

The words you expect—rejection, questioning your intentions—you immediately sweep them back, “That person will return to Busan, right? Because the reception should be the best.” You finally pull the lever, its intrinsic strength stronger now.

It feels like challenging death on a dark road; you know nothing about him except that he’s one of the important figures in Busan’s underworld. However, this isn’t the first time you’re dealing with something unknown and risking your life.

The wrinkles on his face deepen, but that doesn’t make you back down from getting a date with him. “How do you know? Who are you?” He’s still standing there; everyone knows you pressed his button.

“I’m glad you’re curious about me. If you agree to a short date, maybe you’ll find out. By the way, our date plan is to visit the food factories. I want to go to PulmuSoy, then ChongGa, and Sempyu. If we have time, we’ll also go to Daesan. Don’t worry, I have acquaintances.” Sometimes it’s nice to have connections everywhere.

But both of you know, all those places are in Seoul. A gray area for those affiliated with the King of Busan. There’s no prohibition on going to Seoul as a regular person; after all, which law judges you just because of gang fights and enemies entering territories practically owned by the state?

This unwritten rule is ridiculous. Maybe that’s why Gitae doesn’t care about his title as the King of Seoul. Who knows, you’ll ask later.

After weighing your decision internally, you continue. “If you’re worried I’m lying, you can leave me on the road and take the tofu away, easy peasy. So, what do you think?” Overall, it’s a win-win situation for him; he can get the best quality tofu without causing a fuss.

But what are your intentions? What do you gain from this? Your conversation partner just sighs. Maybe you’re not that bad, just strange… who knows, you’re just guessing what’s on his mind. The henchman pays for the tofu he wanted to buy earlier. “Alright. If that’s the case.”

Without waiting any longer, “What do you want us to use to go? Train? Bicycle? Taxi or….” Hmm, should you invite him to your car? The options you provide aren’t suitable for a date, but thinking of you both as strangers, practically not knowing each other’s names, being civilians would be good, you think.

“It’s alright, we can use my car.” Oh, such a respectful man, he turns out not to be that dense. Walking beside him, occasionally you glance at his facial expressions. For once, he reciprocates your flirtation. “Aren’t you worried you just met someone with bad intentions?”

Responding dramatically, you sweep your hair back. “Me? If I met one, I’d definitely die. Besides, I’m a fragile flower. So protect me later.” People who know you would undoubtedly accuse you of telling the worst lies in the world. But man, you feel a bit cringy with this dramatic acting, to be honest.

Your answer stops him from walking out of the market. He looks at you with a face asking, what’s wrong with you. Well, you’ve often received looks like this, and it won’t be the last in the future either. “You….” Maybe you should appreciate him for holding back all the harsh words there.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you snort in disbelief. “Pfft, if I were meeting a bad person, logically I’d just avoid them. You happened to look interesting, so why not while I’m here.” Yes, let’s just say you’re a fool infatuated with visuals (but, it’s true).

That’s a half-baked reason, but not entirely unreasonable. People beside you must be wondering why you know his intentions, not just that, about Jinrang, the King of Busan who should only be known to those who have ever dabbled in the underworld. You’re not an ordinary person, for sure.

“You… are strange.” He closes his eyes, not showing much expression. Maybe there’s someone far more eccentric than you that he’s met before.

“It’s nice if a man like you concerned about me, but I can always run away if I want to. Still, thanks for the intention.” You both continue walking.

Upon reaching the car you’re heading to, a car passes by. True, it’s just like that panel, this man stands in front of it, and looks exactly the same. The same luxurious car out of place like its owner.

Apparently, you are deep in thought considering that truth until he opens the passenger door beside the driver’s seat. “Oh, what polite man, I’m getting more interested in you. Do you have a girlfriend?” Such a boring question, you just make small talk. Strangely, you get a slight reaction. Is there something sparkling in his mouth?

This marks the third place you've been visiting today, and surprisingly, the day hasn’t spiraled into a nightmare of thugs and brutal interrogations as you feared. Instead, an uneasy silence hovers between you and your companion, broken only by awkward conversations about tofu, which mostly are one-sided initiations from you.

Actually, it's not that bad if you are someone who thinks too much about what others think, because the view outside somewhat entertains you in this silence.

As dusk creeps in, the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows through the window of the restaurant managed by the tofu factory. A tofu dish is nibbled on, fitting the day’s theme.

Across the table, a white-haired man sits silently, his eyes fixed ahead. Glancing at his teeth, you notice something off but choose to remain silent. After all, it is your first meeting, and his name still remains a mystery.

Lost in thought, thinking about how today went and how the future will unfold, all that is interrupted by a sudden cough from your date. What did he eat? Is the food that bad? Observing where his hand is and what he is scooping, tofu buchimgae? You come to the conclusion that the glint in his teeth indeed means something.

Without waiting any longer, you call the nearest waiter to bring water. Glancing at him occasionally, you hesitate on what to say, as the waiter promptly hands over the water. More or less, your face and the employee's are both worried.

Should you apologize? Apologize for accidentally ordering food that you shouldn't have eaten? Of course, this is not something you expected. But it does not lessen your guilt.

Your mind drifts to James, silently cursing the redhead. He must be involved somehow, you muse. If it were you, you’d have known by now. Imagining his smug smile when he knew you made a stranger choke on the date.

This frustration bubbles beneath the surface, adding to the tension at the table because the cough of the man across you is getting worse. Oh my God, James, what are you doing with this handsome man! your thoughts echo, pulling your hair inward in frustration.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know you...." your soul floats away from your body as he stares sharply at you from across the table. (Unbeknownst to you, James, staying at his hotel, senses your silent exasperation.)

The weight of unspoken words hangs heavily between you and the stranger. Do you have to do or say something? It feels like you've just committed the most heinous crime that humanity can think of.

Breaking the silence, you lean forward slightly and inquire, “Hey, how’s the food?” Your question mirrors the earlier inquiries you made at other factories, making the atmosphere feel repetitive and stifling.

A sigh escapes his lips, feeling trapped in a loop of meaningless small talk. “It’s fine,” he replies gracefully, picking up another bite of the safer menu item he is eating. Whether he genuinely means it or is simply avoiding deeper conversation remains unclear, leaving you yearning for a more substantial connection.

Attempting to steer the conversation to safer ground, you remark, "Let's forget what has happened, okay? Whether it's five minutes ago or five years ago, this silence and guilt are killing you." “The day is getting dark. Have you found the one you think is best?” Leaning on your hand, you wish to spark a more engaging dialogue.

“The third one,” comes his terse answer. His brief response only deepens your confusion, and the silence grows heavier as you struggle to find common ground.

Undeterred, you venture further, “I think the second one is better—larger and softer tofu. What do you think?” Hoping for more engagement, you seek a sign of interest or at least a shared opinion.

After taking a bite, he sets his spoon aside and asks, “To be truthful, what do you want to hear?” His question catches you off guard, marking the first time he has initiated a query since you agreed to the date. You at least hope this date will end calmly, even though all day the impression you got is bland and, you don't know, maybe it's because you're strangers and you're forcing your luck?

Frozen momentarily, uncertainty clouds your response. “It’s okay, I guess. From today, I come to the conclusion that you’re not the type who likes to talk,” you reply softly, disappointment evident. You wonder who you would report this sadness to.

“Are you finished?” he inquires, prompting a nod from you. Disappointment washes over you as you wonder if your time together has been a waste. Despite him paying for everything and even driving you out while you wait for a taxi, the connection feels lacking.

Silence envelops once more, thick with unspoken thoughts. A glance at his vibrating phone precedes his return to the street outside. Deciding to break the tension, you speak up, “Hey, sorry for dragging you all day and forcing myself on you. Thank you for sticking with me.” You glance out of the corner of your eye. What expression is he making?

Meeting your gaze, he responds with no signs of confusion, annoyance, or even accusation. Maybe all this is just a formality, “It’s not a problem. I got what I wanted, so being dragged by you isn’t entirely negative. But I wonder about your motives, besides claiming to know me.”

You think the answer is simple, the answer everyone would think of when they first see him. “Because you’re handsome,” escapes your lips before you can retract them.

His expression remains unreadable. Curse it, you are too used to complimenting someone without thinking, but when your counterpart is him who doesn't react at all, making you think of various possibilities, you are not sure some are starting to be relevant. “Have girls never approached you on the street for your looks?” you press, hoping for a reaction.

Still no response. “Don’t stay silent! You’re making me feel awkward… But actually, I need it to cook,” you add, attempting to shift the conversation once more. That is somewhat half a lie because you don't need it right now either. At most, you know it will last for a few days until your beloved little brother reminds you.

Curiosity flickers in his eyes as he asks, “You cook?”

“Yeah, I’m planning a tofu menu tomorrow. My little brother keeps craving it, though I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s because he’s growing?” You hope to lighten the mood, but he remains stoic.

“Yeah, I can cook various things. I even have a YouTube channel with five million subscribers. We should go on a cooking date sometime. I can satisfy your appetite better than the restaurant earlier,” you continue, a slight change in his demeanor noticeable.

A slight smile tugs at his lips as he snorts, “Sure. I believe that.” You interpret this reaction indirectly as if he rolled his eyes.

“Your face says otherwise. Are you mocking me? Really unusual,” you mutter, suppressing it because of being upset after being ridiculed by someone who looks impossible to joke with, feeling both embarrassed about his response.

"If that's the way you see it, then so be it," he replies, returning his gaze to the street, signaling the end of the conversation.

Another silence. You feel somewhat relieved because this time it is not suffocating like before, and it feels like the daytime confidence, which was quite crazy to invite a man you know is dangerous, has returned. Time to test your luck again. “Can we go on another date next time? Maybe you could ask me out.”

After considering your request for a moment, he chuckles. My goodness, you are grateful you didn’t look away, forget to blink, and your breath is held as you see his sharp teeth, smiling beneath the stoic face that accompanied you all day.

No way, this is bad, your face flushes. You almost think that one day this man would want to do something bad to you and give that smile. You are not sure you can fight back even to speak.

Resisting not to gape too obviously, you rage inwardly for a fraction of a second. He responds, “If you’re willing, I’ll choose Sea Life Busan Aquarium for our next meeting. And hopefully, you’ll tell me more about yourself.”

Of course, you are willing to spend more time with him, even though you would be bitten by that set of shining metal teeth. Who are you to refuse handsomeness? Well... sometimes you have to remind yourself to restrain before everything gets messed up.

“That’s great! Here’s my contact,” you say, reaching into your pouch.

“You have something like this?” A thin smile still lingers at the corner of his lips as you hand him your contact card, with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Of course I do. I have a job,” you reply, a hint of pride in your voice.

Blinking in confusion, as if you just saw something inexplicable, he slowly pulls something from his pocket. “That's not what I mean... but if that’s the case, this is mine.”

Stepping slightly back, you hold back, “Wait! Give this after our next meeting—please you can contact me first.” You twist your fingers, thinking of the handsome man whose name you will know on the next date, plus he will contact you first. Isn't that great?

“I understand,” he says, and a taxi passes by, its lights reflecting in his eyes.

Opening the door, you wave goodbye. “Thanks for today. I’m looking forward to the next time. Good night.”

“Good night,” he replies simply before watching your taxi disappear into the night.

Alternative Pathways

Written from the latest chapter. Lmao, he is so wild haha wiping a bloody knife on Jay's suit? That's a different level of insult, you know.

After a ruined dinner, it also destroys your self-confidence, and somehow this white-haired man still faithfully stays by your side while you wait for a taxi. Anyway, the anxiety clutching your heart is unbearable, and impulsively you call someone in your contacts.

No need for much awareness, something shiny from the streetlamp light on your neck, and a hand holds you, pressing the call button, threatening without speaking as you look up to find a smile that presents all forms of cunning among sharp teeth after a day of just a face without an expression that was hard to read.

"I think I have indeed seen you somewhere. Quite far back in the days that made me the person I am today. Don't you agree?" His face approaches, his white hair tickling your cheek. Still flaunting his sharp teeth, the reflection of his light almost makes you nervously blink.

But you have often been in a similar position. Sharp objects, small knives, maybe the one he picked up from your dinner, cornered, and he presses deeper into your neck, the sensation of the cold object suddenly stuck making your goosebumps stand up.

Added with his ominous smile, you surrender to the hold and sigh in resignation.

Regaining your composure, "You are not wrong, but I am still a messenger compared to anything." You raise your free hand, bringing it to his strand of hair, stroking the base, up to near his face. "It's just a pity if we end with bad blood, while I was expecting the next date from your side."

"Then why not tell what's stored in that pretty head first and then decide what happens next." Unwavering, he is not affected when you twirl with his hair.

However, this is a good response; his knife does not press deeper. You continue, "hm, maybe the idea of continuing tonight will sound good if you want to hear more from me." Without the burden of worries, you tuck his white hair, softly behind his ear and slowly pull his face closer to you.

Closer than he expects, your breaths mingle in the air. "How about it? I'm afraid this will be our last meeting."

And that's the rest of your night. You agree to spend more time. Whether something else happens or after that you kiss or whatever, then talk about things or vice versa, all that, the author leaves it to the reader's imagination.