Winter hits at the core,
Injured arm of mine is sore;
But will anyone tell me,
Why Soakjin feels like a whore??
Haha... yes, that's a real question.
And I bet you have the same one too.
"GET THEM! THEY TOOK THE VAN!" someone shouted behind us.
One of them grabbed my injured arm like a damn zombie. I felt my bone crack---not from the pull, but from the cold biting through it.
"Fuck off!" I hissed, slamming my elbow into the back of his neck, then driving my knee into his gut.
He let go, clutching his stomach like it was his last piece of life.
Oh, little gangsta, you're lucky I didn't hit your mew-mew.
I took the wheel, tires screeching as we sped into the fog. My men stayed behind to deal with the leftovers.
I could still hear the chaos behind---yelling, gunshots, screaming like a lion kicked out by deer.
A lion that lost its pride.
I drove at full speed. The police would probably be chasing soon.
Couldn't risk slowing down. Couldn't risk anything.
Because I wasn't free yet.
Two bikers flanked us, one on each side of the van, blocking me from overtaking.
I groaned. My arm was throbbing like hell—probably fractured.
And those bikers... were they from the same gang? Why were they after me?
I glanced back—Soakjin was half-conscious, trembling and pale, struggling to sit upright against the crazy shaking of the car.
I looked back out the window---
and a bullet shattered the glass beside me.
I swerved, narrowly dodging. The bullet ripped through, exiting the opposite side and hitting one of the bikers square in the arm.
The guy screamed and crashed mid-road.
"That was close," I muttered, exhaling. "Rain fears no trash."
We tore past a red light, another biker spinning out and tumbling from the bridge onto a truck below with a sickening crunch.
Police sirens joined the chase seconds later.
God, what now?
It's not like I'm innocent enough to stop and explain.
I had to keep moving, fast.
Besides... why does Soakjin even exist?
A spoiled politician's son who could end anything with a slap or a stack of cash.
If I get caught, I'm finished.
I'm his bodyguard, not Rain.
Not now.
A biker fired again---two bullets hit the front wheel.
The van spun violently, fog swallowing the world in dizzying white.
"Stop fucking spinning! My head hurts!!" Soakjin yelled, slamming his hand against the window like a drunk maniac.
"Don't worry, sir! Your bodyguard's got you!" I shouted back, slamming the seat flat as bullets tore through the back and sides.
Our eyes met for a second---his wide, bloodshot, trembling.
"Don't raise your head, sir!" I hissed, forcing him down, his face burying into my neck. His breath hit my skin, hot and shaky.
He whimpered softly, confused, and before he could move—
I slammed the brakes.
The pursuing bike flipped through the fog, crashing hard.
I reversed sharply---two police cars rammed into each other trying to block us.
Perfect chaos.
Then I floored it.
Drove straight at the last biker---the one who'd been treating me like a dartboard.
He went under the wheels.
Bones cracked. I didn't care.
Some trash dies as leftovers.
Crystal clear.
I drove until city lights vanished---no humans, no noise, no witnesses.
Soakjin was in no condition to be seen, and his father?
He must never find out.
A hotel would do. Silent, discreet.
He's rich; he can pay.
I just saved his life---twice.
Poor Soakjin sat pale, clutching his head, gagging but refusing to puke---
maybe too proud to ruin his "image" in front of me.
Once we were far enough from town, I stopped to fix the wheel and patch my arm.
"You okay, sir?" I asked, immediately regretting the stupid question.
"Do I look fine?!" he snapped, glaring through his fingers.
Like an angry, sick owl.
"N-no, sir. My apologies. Want something to drink---cold or hot?"
I didn't wait for an answer, wrapping a rough bandage around my bleeding arm and yanking the bullet out. The pain made me grunt.
Luckily, there was a spare wheel in the van. I swapped it fast.
He watched me the whole time.
"My stomach feels weird... I only want something warm," he muttered groggily.
I slid back into the seat.
"Sir, there's no warm place nearby. I'll get you to a hotel. You can't go home like this; media will eat you alive."
But disaster was waiting.
"I don't have money," he said like it was no big deal.
My jaw dropped. I slammed the brakes.
He hit the back of my seat with a groan.
"What's wrong again?! Can't you drive properly?!"
I froze.
My wallet had fallen during the building jump.
And this brat---no money either?!
"Sir, don't joke. Please," I muttered, cheeks heating from frustration.
"I'm not joking. Don't you have money?" he asked, half irritated, half incredulous.
"Un…fortunately, no. It fell when I was fighting. What about your credit card or phone?"
"My phone broke when they kidnapped me. The rest---some at the hospital, some stolen," he mumbled, sounding almost ashamed.
I smacked my forehead.
Late night. Winter. No money. No food. Far from civilization.
Just like a survival K-drama.
Then I remembered my phone.
Hope flickered.
And died instantly---battery dead.
Apparently, my playlist had been running the whole damn time.
"Goddammit!" I groaned, throwing the phone aside and dragging my hands down my face.
"You---what kind of bodyguard forgets money and a power bank?!" Soakjin barked, shaking in the cold but still managing to yell.
How do I tell him a spy prioritizes ammo over Apple Pay?
"And your name?!" he demanded, leaning in with that spoiled glare.
I hesitated. Then said a random name , "It's... Min Taemin, sir."
"Taemin," he spat, like it was a curse. "Because of your carelessness, I have to live in a van all night without food or a warm bed! You'll be punished right here! Salary halved! And you'll do as I say!"
I blinked.
Who the hell did this brat think he was?
If it weren't for me, he'd be a corpse in a dumpster.
But---control, Rain. Not now. Not here.
Before I could answer, he yanked me over to the passenger seat like I weighed nothing.
I yelped as pain shot through my arm.
"Sir, don't---don't pull that arm, I'll come myself!" I hissed, scooting beside him.
He stared at me---eyes dazed, drunk, half-lidded. Too close.
Way too close.
"I thought… you couldn't find me," he whispered faintly. "How did you…?"
His voice trembled, but his hand stayed fisted in my collar.
"Sir, you're not in your senses. Please rest. I'll drive you home safely---"
My eyes flicked to the petrol meter.
And laughed bitterly inside.
Zero.
He blinked, then smirked slightly. His dry lips parted.
The air thickened. Fog pressed outside.
"You're my bodyguard," he murmured hoarsely. "Shouldn't you… guard me from the cold too?"
The air froze.
That flicker again in his eyes---the one that made me uneasy.
I sighed under my breath, too low for him to hear. "Not again."
"Didn't I say you'll do as I say? It's your punishment," he murmured again, voice fogged with exhaustion.
What kind of punishment was this?
And to me of all people?
I sighed, unbuttoning my coat.
Underneath, just my fitted inner shirt and the chest belts that made me look bigger than necessary. I wrapped the coat around him.
But that wasn't enough for the brat.
"Your paper layer won't work. I need something warmer," he muttered.
"Sir, there's nothing warmer than that right now," I said quietly, feeling his hazy eyes drag over me.
"Your skin's warm. I felt it---when you held my head near your neck," he said bluntly.
Ah. Of course.
Shameless. Absolutely shameless.
"Sir, it's---"
"No buts! Will your arm fall off if you warm me up a bit? It's freezing!"
I exhaled sharply. Too tired to argue.
He leaned forward suddenly---his trembling body pressed into mine.
I could feel his heart hammering against my chest, uneven, fast. His arms wrapped weakly around my waist. A soft, tired moan left him.
I stayed still, tense.
Then… slowly, the fatigue took me too. My body loosened.
His cold. My warmth.
Like puzzle pieces locking together.
My arm moved on instinct, wrapping around his waist.
When was the last time I'd held someone like this and slept?
I couldn't even remember.
He shifted, pulling me down with him---
now he was under me.
I was his blanket.
He was my bed.
"Looks like my bodyguard hasn't slept for days," he murmured, voice fading. "Not in rain… nor winter."
I didn't respond. Just listened---to his heartbeat, and my own.
He held me tighter, hand sliding up my back.
I swallowed hard against his throat.
My muscles stopped fighting.
The last thing I felt was his breath on my ear, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back, and his whisper:
"Good night, Taemin."
And my final thought before sleep took me---
Nah... he wasn't totally a whore.
Chapter 8( spoiler)
"Not even a single one?" Soakjin leaned forward, incredulous. "You'll let 'me' freeze outside?"
The poor man swallowed hard, typing frantically.
I tried to calm Soakjin down with a quiet smile.
"W-wait," the manager stammered, "there's... a couple-sized room available. One bed, one bathroom. Would you… mind sharing?"
A couple room?
As in---the ones newlyweds use for honeymoons?
My breath caught somewhere between horror and disbelief.
Soakjin's head turned toward me slowly, a smirk already forming like saying : you'll sleep more comfortably tonight my lovely bodyguard..
and that was the exact moment I realized… this night was about to get far more complicated than the snowstorm outside.