Chapter 5

Seung-ho blinked rapidly, before ushering himself in and closing the gate. He had his eyes fixed on a certain butt, he forgot how to move his legs.

“Your house is magnificent.” he complimented, and Min-a hummed in response.

“It sure is a money pit.”

Seung-ho watched him pass by what looked like the front door.

“I might not know how huge mansions work but I thought we just passed the front door,” he spoke out, pointing back at the front even though his legs still actively followed Min-a.

“This door leads to my room.” Min-a let out simply before stopping in front of a gray door attached to the side wall.

It was a part of the building that had huge rectangular gray tiles on it and not some see-through glass window.

Without another word, Seung-ho followed him through the house, immediately spotting the difference in the air as he got in.

He thought he was rich, in fact, he was.

He was comfortable with the wealth his art generated for him but this...this building, this fortune was on a whole other level of wealth.

They got to a brown door which Min-a opened with a black key card and ushered him in.

Seung-ho tried not to gawk at the raw art displayed on the walls of the room.

The room was so spacious, that he had a hard time finding the bed till he realized there was no bed there.

“This is..” his voice was suspended in mid-air as he viewed a painting that looked homoerotic yet extremely upsetting.

The features of the black and red painting seemed troubling but redeeming.

“Hmm...this is very impressive, Mr. Influencer.” Seung-ho chuckled, truly impressed.

“My name is Seo Min-a.” Min-a corrected.

Seung-ho shrugged nonchalantly.

“I like Haneul better,” he smirked, earning an eye roll from Min-a, who was now focusing on taking off his shirt.

“No one has the right to call me Haneul except my older sister. I don’t want any strange man calling me by that name.” He remarked stubbornly, his shirt discarded as he walked bare-chested to his closet to find a dry shirt.

Seung-ho ignored Min-a’s rebuking words, his eyes trailing after his gorgeous body, captivated by how his back muscles tightened and loosened with each step.

“When did you start painting?” He asked, moving around from one art piece to another to distract himself from the alluring yet lean body before him.

“Fifteen,” Min-a’s voice came back muffled as he pulled on another white shirt. “At first, it was comic scenes and random things. I got serious at nineteen, but no one ever took me seriously. The media only wanted me, and that's how I dominated the Modeling Industry,” he narrated, sounding arrogant.

Even in the midst of a sad story, he managed to sound cocky.

“You?” Min-a asked, surprising Seung-ho with his attempt at conversation, even after he had walked out on him the previous day.

Turning around, Kwan Seung-ho found Min-a clad in white briefs, searching for sweatpants as he leaned over. He tried to drag his eyes away from his perfectly rounded butt before he caught him staring, but he failed.

“Mr. Kwan Seung-ho.” Min-a called out, turning around to see his intense stare.

Realizing he had been caught, Seung-ho looked away slowly, pretending to admire another art piece.

“12,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “My father was a mechanic. He wanted me to be a doctor, or at least learn how to repair a car. Instead, I used engine oil and old clothes as canvas and paint. That’s how I dominated the Art Industry,” he mimicked his earlier tone.

Min-a noticed Seung-ho’s blatant staring, but he didn’t mention it at all.

“That’s dope.” He replied, shutting his closet door.

“You look good by the way.” Seung-ho complimented him, but Min-a just walked towards the exit.

“Ready to meet my father?” Min-a asked with a low resting gaze, leaving the door open for him to pass through.

Seung-ho strolled and stopped in front of him, taking advantage of the inch difference in their height.

“Of course,” he said in a low or barely audible voice, staring into his eyes.

They stayed in this position for like a few seconds before Min-a closed the door, grumbling, “ever heard of personal space..”

He led Seung-ho toward the main area of the house where Eun Hye and their father were holding a conversation.

“We approached him several times, but he refused the offer, so I invited—” Eun Hye nearly shot herself in the foot before she spotted Seung-ho in a well-tailored suit behind her little brother.

Relief washed over her, extinguishing the flames of her panic. The disappointed glint in her father’s gaze had nearly made her want to bury herself in the ground.

“Mr. Kwan! Pleasure seeing you. I wasn’t aware of your arrival. Please join us,” she stood up to usher him into the room.

Seo Jung Ju, Eun Hye, and Min-a’s father also rose to their feet to shake Seung-ho’s hand as he approached, a broad smile displaying on their faces.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Kwan,” he said warmly, offering his hand for a handshake.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir.” Seung-ho shook his hand with both of his. Seo Jung Jun was a paragon he had always respected.

“What can I offer you?” Jung Ju asked cheerfully.

“Tea is fine, sir.” Seung-ho replied, taking a seat while Min-a hovered in the background.

“I heard you turned all six of our contract offers down.” Jung Ju went straight to the point as they took their seats.

“Seven actually,” Seung-ho corrected with a gentle smile. “I’ve explained to your daughter, sir. I’m not one to be bought out.” He relaxed in the chair, his gaze shifting to Eun Hye, who offered him a persuasive smile.

Observing her father’s reaction, she quickly diverted the conversation. “Dad, look what Min-a did with Mr. Kwan’s unfinished painting.” Eun Hye said, showing him a picture of Min-a while he was rounding up Seung-ho’s work.

Seo Jung Ju’s eyes glistened with satisfaction. “This is very good!” he exclaimed, shooting his sparkling eyes at his only son with pride. “I wasn't aware you were this good.”

Seo Min-a simply shrugged indifferently. He wasn't moved by the praise. He had tried and given up on his father acknowledging his artistic potential for eight years.

Now, all of a sudden, when Seung-ho was involved, he suddenly saw something in him.

Seo Eun Hye continued, knowing now she had her father's attention.

“I want to suggest that Mr. Kwan offers Min-a private classes so he can become ready for the real world out there.” She proposed and Seo Jung Ju nodded enthusiastically in approval of her suggestion.

“That’s a good insight, my daughter. It will do him lots of good. Mr. Kwan, what do you think? Would you become my son’s art coach?” He stared at Seung-ho whose eyes left Eun Hye to respond back to her father.

“I would love to coach him," he said with a forced grin before turning to face Min-a. “How does 6:30 pm, three days a week sound to you?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Min-a grumbled.