Night Kiss

by E. T. Malinowski

  “Seriously,” Hyung-jun mimicked with a laugh. “You two have a really good eye, a definite feel for it.”

  “Are you sure that’s feasible with the budget?” Min-su asked. Jin-woo could already see the calculations running through her head. She had narrowed her eyes slightly, and one eyebrow kept going up and down as she worked the numbers.

  “The biggest portion of the budget is the filming. This part is less of a strain for us because we’re a company, not an independent. We have more leeway with postproduction,” Cheong-bo said. “It’s not as if we’re shooting more footage. We have everything we need right here for both videos.”

  “Stop overthinking it.” Jin-woo laughed.

  “It would be cool to be able to do two of them,” Min-sun said.

  “Then let’s do it,” Jin-woo said, giving them his best encouraging smile.

  “Knock it off,” Min-su grumbled, but she did smile… a little.

  Ki-tae

  KI-TAE AND HanYin followed Soon-joon and Godaeui into the CEO offices of BL Entertainment. He studied her as Godaeui took the seat behind the desk. It seemed so natural for her to be there. Yet it was also very odd. They’d never really been in the offices. Then something struck Ki-tae, and he turned to Soon-joon.

  “So when you say you’re going to talk to the president of BLE, are you talking to yourself in here?” Ki-tae asked. Soon-joon chuckled.

  “No, I actually contact Godaeui, and we discuss whatever problem or concern I’m dealing with at the moment.”

  “I thought you were just the CEO and a manager,” HanYin said.

  “Well, my official title is CEO, but most people just see me as a manager. They bring things to me because they know they can and it will get addressed,” Soon-joon explained. “I cannot sit behind a desk all day and push papers. The results would not be pretty, so I keep myself more directly involved with the business, as you know.”

  “Who else knows you’re the CEO?” Ki-tae asked.

  “All of upper management,” Soon-joon said.

  “And they know you’re the owner?” Ki-tae turned to Godaeui. She nodded.

  “They believe I travel a lot but know Soon-joon-nim keeps me abreast of everything. The only thing they do not know is Soon-joon-nim owns half the company. We have many business interests here and abroad. It is how we survive, by being smart and frugal. There are few things we splurge on, usually our living space, as that is our haven. The house is gorgeous, by the way, Táozi-chan. I love how you’ve combined the modern and traditional cultural styles of Korea, China, and Japan.”

  “I cannot claim total credit,” Soon-joon said. “The boys had a hand in the house and how it looks. They helped make it our home.”

  “I wish the rest of the world was so,” she said.

  “Is ChenBao your real name, or is it just an alias?” HanYin asked suddenly.

  “It is the name I was born with. Táozi-chan likes to call me ‘Godaeui’ to remind me I am so much older than he is,” she said, shooting a teasing glance Soon-joon’s way. “I call him by his given name to remind him he is Chinese as well as Japanese, and the two need not be mutually exclusive within him. He is stubborn, however.”

  “Is that why you keep switching honorifics? You call him Táozi-chan, but also Soon-joon-nim,” Ki-tae pointed out.

  “I try my best to adjust to the environment. In private he will always be Táozi-chan. While in public I will address him by his current cultural name and honorific.”

  “It also reminds me of happier times when I was a boy, so I don’t mind when she addresses me that way,” Soon-joon said. “I think we need to get back on track, though.”

  ChenBao sighed. “Yes. Please, take a seat.”

  “Why does that sound so ominous?” Ki-tae said as he sat in one of the wingback chairs placed in front of her black teak desk.

  “It isn’t,” she said. “You are just worried about what you might hear.”

  “I think I have good cause to be,” Ki-tae said.

  “Such an adorable pout,” ChenBao said, lightening the mood a little. “It is not as bad as you think.”

  “The options he has are not pleasant ones,” HanYin said as he took a seat on the matching love seat along the wall to the left of the desk, nearest Ki-tae.

  “True,” ChenBao agreed. “Like calls to like, and it is the same for Vampires. Often if a Vampire falls in love, it is with another Spiritual Being: a Shifter, a water spirit, a Sorcerer, etcetera. That loved one will either be full-blooded or half or less, but there will be spiritual blood in their line within two or three generations at most. Vampires are the only Spiritual Beings, other than Shifters, that can be both made and born. You three are made. I am born. The whys and hows of that are unknown to me. We have no documented record of the origin of our species. Apparently we’re a very secretive bunch, even from each other.”

  “That is very interesting,” Ki-tae said. “But what does it have to do with Jin-woo-ya?”

  “Patience,” ChenBao said. “Once Jin-woo dongsaeng, you, and I have finished lunch, I will be able to more fully understand the bond between you. There have been occasions when a Vampire has fallen in love and bonded with a full human, but they are very rare.”

  “People would do this to themselves on purpose?” Ki-tae murmured. The idea was completely foreign to him. He couldn’t even contemplate bonding with someone voluntarily.

  “There are those who corrupt the bond, use it, and those they bind for their own purposes. They are rogues, abominations, and when discovered, they are hunted down and destroyed,” ChenBao said softly. “We live a very long time. We watch the people around us grow old and die. We bury fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, daughters and sons and lovers. To commit ourselves to someone is to show how much they mean to us. It is sacred.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” Ki-tae said, lowering his gaze to the floor.

  “Ki-tae dongsaeng, the bond placed on you when you were younger, it was a perversion, an addiction forced on you,” ChenBao said. “This bond between you and Jin-woo dongsaeng… it is very different.”

  “How?”

  “Because there is mutual desire there,” she said with a smile. “Or did you think I’d lost my sense of smell?”

  Ki-tae could feel himself blush. He glared at HanYin when he heard his chuckle. “Shut it.”

  “I didn’t say a word,” HanYin said.

  “You were thinking it.”

  “True, but I didn’t say it, so you can’t be mad at me,” HanYin said with a grin.

  “Yes, I can.”

  HanYin just smirked at him.

  ChenBao raised an eyebrow and looked at each of them in turn until they settled down. Ki-tae shot his brother one last glare before turning his attention back to her.

  “I believe Jin-woo dongsaeng is one of these rare humans, but there may be something more to it. As I said, I will need to spend more time with the both of you to ascertain if it is just a matter of his spiritual blood being more than three generations back, or if he’s simply blessed to be Xuè huǒbàn, a blood partner.”

  “I’ve heard that term before,” Soon-joon said, speaking for the first time in several minutes. “I have never seen one, though.”

  “As I said, they are extremely rare and sacred,” ChenBao said. “There hasn’t been any Xuè huǒbàn for at least a thousand years.”

  “How will you know if Jin-woo dongsaeng is one of these humans?” Ki-tae asked.

  “You young ones do not pay attention to all your senses.” ChenBao eyed Soon-joon. “Have you taught them nothing of their abilities? They should have mastered spirit sight by now.”

  “Do you know how long it took me just to get them to pick their clothes up off the floor?” Soon-joon said.

  “Only half as long as it took us to teach you the same thing!” ChenBao shot back.

  Soon-joon said softly, “I began with survival. I am… out of practice with the spirit senses. I have done my best.”

&n
bsp; “And you have done well, Táozi-chan.” ChenBao smiled at him. “I know it is not easy to be a mentor and a parent. Your sons are strong, good men, and that is because of you and your love for them.”

  He hadn’t just loved them; he’d saved them. Ki-tae was sure he would have been dead had Soon-joon not found him. He would have been one more unidentified body, someone no one would miss, food for the scavengers, had he continued to be bound. Soon-joon had saved him, clothed him, and fed him. He had taught Ki-tae how to read and write, to do math and to play the piano, among other instruments. He had taught Ki-tae so many things, had given him purpose, a way to express the music inside his head. There was no way Ki-tae could ever repay that, no way to truly show Soon-joon how very grateful he was. He lifted his head and looked at ChenBao.

  “How will you know?”

  “Your qi will reach out to each other, try to merge, to form a stronger connection than you have now. Right now you can only receive Jin-woo dongsaeng’s dreams. You dream walk. It is… ephemeral.”

  “It doesn’t feel ephemeral to me,” Ki-tae muttered before clearing his throat and glancing around the room.

  “Because it is you who consumed his blood, and not vice versa,” ChenBao said. “He offered you his neck, did he not?”

  “I….” Ki-tae paused, thinking back to that night, shifting in his seat. “I was feeding from the tech’s wrist, but when I got close to him, he tilted his head, so yeah, I guess he did.”

  “Despite his lingering fear after discovering Vampires were real, he was still drawn to you, still offered you his blood,” ChenBao said. “That is an interesting bit of information. Because he offered willingly and you drank willingly, you are connected when you dream. Intent is important in any type of magic or ritual. The will of those involved plays a large part as well. Have you drunk from him since?”

  Ki-tae grimaced. He’d hoped she wouldn’t ask that question.

  “I can see you have.” She laughed.

  “Always from the wrist,” Ki-tae reassured her.

  “You may feed from others, but it will not be as satisfying, as fulfilling as when you drink from Jin-woo dongsaeng, and it may even make you ill,” ChenBao explained. “Until we know more about Jin-woo dongsaeng, we can make no further plans.”

  Ki-tae wasn’t sure he liked that idea. He didn’t like not knowing what options he had. A part of him wanted to tell Jin-woo what was going on, but a part of him was afraid to. What if it was too much for Jin-woo to handle? What if he just decided to avoid Ki-tae altogether, to stay away from him and have nothing to do with him anymore? Ki-tae didn’t know if he could handle that. In the time they had been working together, Ki-tae had gotten to know quite a bit about Jin-woo. He certainly knew how to please him. That would never be an issue.

  “While I am here, I might as well go over the reports,” ChenBao said. “You and HanYin dongsaeng are free to go, Ki-tae dongsaeng. I will see you in a few hours.”

  Ki-tae nodded and then turned to HanYin. All it took was a look for HanYin to understand. His arm landed heavily on Ki-tae’s shoulders. When the door closed behind them, Ki-tae gave a sigh.

  “Everything will turn out all right,” HanYin said, always trying to make him feel better. “In the meantime, let’s go into the studio. I have some tracks I want you to listen to. They sound off, and I can’t put my finger on what exactly is making it not work.”

  Ki-tae nodded. The work would keep his mind off Jin-woo. At least he hoped it would. He needed a respite from the images that kept popping into his head when he thought about him. ChenBao and Soon-joon kept telling him this bond was not a bad thing, but he had only one incident to compare it to. Granted, matters were very different this time around, and granted, he was the one who caused the situation, but it was still terrifying to him, being bound to another.

  Yet Jin-woo never made him feel threatened, never made him feel less than what he was, and never put him down. Threatened him? Sure, but in that playful way, and his growls were freaking hot. He was the perfect mix of sweet and innocent and sexy. He was smart and creative, talented, incredibly talented, and humble. Jin-woo didn’t brag about his work. He was confident without being arrogant. Thinking about it, Ki-tae couldn’t find a single flaw in Jin-woo. He knew he had them, everyone did, but Ki-tae hadn’t seen them. Everyone seemed to love Jin-woo, and as long as they did it from a distance, and without laying hands on Jin-woo, Ki-tae was okay with it.

  “You’re thinking about Jin-woo dongsaeng again,” HanYin said with a smile. “When are you going to admit you have feelings for him… and not just the carnal ones!”

  “Aren’t those the best kind?” Ki-tae asked, knowing he wasn’t pulling off the innocent look by HanYin’s eyebrow. “All right, all right, there may be some truth to what you’re saying.”

  “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

  “What do you want from me, HanYin-a?” Ki-tae snapped, suddenly frustrated with everything. “I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know what the fuck to call it!”

  “Love. It’s called love, Ki-tae-ya, and it’s a gift. You should cherish it.”

  Jin-woo

  JIN-WOO FOLLOWED behind Rhim Hyun-jo, Soon-joon’s assistant, quietly. Nervous butterflies filled his stomach. He didn’t understand why he’d been singled out to have lunch with the president. He wasn’t anything special. He was just Cheong Jin-woo.

  Hyun-jo stopped before a set of double doors. He bowed low, opened the door, and ushered Jin-woo inside. It was too weird. Hyun-jo didn’t say much, apparently, being a man of few words, but he had a certain grace and elegance about him, a quiet confidence Jin-woo liked. It fit for him to be Soon-joon’s assistant. When he walked into the office, he found Ki-tae seated in one of the chairs in front of a beautiful teak desk, and ChenBao in the large leather chair behind the desk. Ki-tae winked at him again, right before he licked his lips and smiled. Jin-woo gave him a pointed look. It was not nice to push Jin-woo’s buttons while they were in the presence of BL Entertainment’s president.

  “Stop being an instigator, Ki-tae dongsaeng. You can pursue that later,” ChenBao admonished with a grin. “Boys these days.”

  Jin-woo gasped in shock and dropped his gaze to the floor. He was so freaking embarrassed, and it was all Ki-tae’s fault. Oh, he was so going to kill Ki-tae later! He bowed, muttering an apology.

  “Do not apologize for being a normal, healthy young man. I’m not so old-fashioned as to not understand the way of things between people,” ChenBao said with a chuckle. “Now lunch has already been prepared and laid out in my small conference room. Shall we eat, then?”

  “Yes, please,” Jin-woo said.

  “After you, Huijang-nim,” Ki-tae said as he rose to his feet.

  “Such wonderful manners… when he wants to use them,” ChenBao said as she led the way into a small room off her office. “You are quite the charmer, aren’t you, Ki-tae dongsaeng?”

  Jin-woo had never seen so much food outside a restaurant in his life. Did people really eat this much for lunch? He glanced at Ki-tae, who was watching him again, smirking.

  “I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered a bit of everything,” ChenBao said as she took a seat at the table. Then she patted the seat next to her, smiling at Jin-woo. He sat down, feeling incredibly nervous, although having Ki-tae there seemed to help calm his butterflies. When Ki-tae took the seat next to him, rather than sitting on ChenBao’s right, Jin-woo smiled at him.

  He turned to ChenBao. “Jal meokkesseumnida.”

  Jin-woo waited for ChenBao to pick up her chopsticks and then took up the pitcher of water to pour for her and Ki-tae. Then he looked at the dishes spread before them. There was such a plethora of choices, and he wanted to try them all. Apparently Ki-tae thought he should too because he kept putting food in Jin-woo’s bowl.

  “Are you trying to make me fat?” Jin-woo whispered.

  “I was just….”

  Suddenly Ki-tae looked very self-conscious. He tried
to draw his hand back, but Jin-woo caught his wrist. When Ki-tae looked him in the eye, he smiled. “It’s all right. I was just teasing. It is very sweet of you. Thank you.”

  “I know I’m not very good at it, but I do try,” Ki-tae said. He ducked his head and turned back to his own food, but Jin-woo could see the small smile on his face.

  ChenBao

  CHENBAO WATCHED them silently, not saying a word as they whispered to each other. She huffed inwardly, as if she couldn’t hear everything they said. It was very sweet, though, and so she chose to ignore any breaches of etiquette as Ki-tae kept selecting the choicest meats for Jin-woo. Each time another piece of meat was placed in his bowl, Jin-woo blushed. She was sure if she weren’t in the room, Ki-tae would have fed Jin-woo, and Jin-woo would have let him. Ah, to be in love once more. It was a sweet feeling. Yet as much as she just wanted to watch them, ChenBao knew she needed to focus on her task. Soon-joon had explained Ki-tae’s background to her. His phobia regarding bonds was justified, but it could also cost him the very person who could heal him.

  Continuing to eat, ChenBao began chitchatting with Ki-tae and Jin-woo. She wanted to laugh at the surprise in their eyes when she easily conversed with them regarding the technical aspects of music production. While Jin-woo had no way of knowing exactly how much experience ChenBao had, Ki-tae should have known better.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Jin-woo dongsaeng?” ChenBao asked. “It seems a lot for you with school as well.”

  “I am, very much so, Huijang-nim,” Jin-woo said, his smile honest and bright. “I’m learning so much, and it all makes a little more sense than just reviewing lecture notes.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” ChenBao said. “Soon-joon-nim tells me you have remarkable talent. He said your presentation was amazing.”

  “Oh, it isn’t just me, Huijang-nim,” Jin-woo said, turning to face her fully. “Min-su-ya and Jong-in-a both are incredibly talented, just in different areas. Jong-in-a did a complete song analysis, and Min-su-ya is amazing, not only with the postproduction, but the financials as well. She also has a wonderful grasp of the creative aspect too. It was very much a group effort.”