As soon as he got home, he showered, made himself eat something small and then collapsed on his bed.
He took some pills of aspirin and painkillers but the pain didn't go away. He sighed and stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep to come.
But sleep did not come.
At 1AM he gave up pretending, sat up and reached under his pillow. He pulled out his notepad and his TWICE pen, sat cross legged on his small bed and opened to the page he'd been quietly adding to all week.
He'd titled it at the top in small careful letters as 'Evidence.'
Now, he read through it slowly.
The First thing he'd written was just one line. 'Chairman Kim Hee-soon.' The one name that started all of this menace.
Kim Hee-soon was a strangely attractive man. Not just in looks but in aura, personality and character. The novel had mentioned this once in chapter two and Miles had rolled his eyes at it because that kind of detail existed only for one purpose: To make the main lead seem too impressive and out of world. But to Miles at the time, it was cringe.
But now that it was all real, he clearly understood what the novel was talking about.
To put it simply, Kim Hee-soon was the kind of man that made no sense outside of fiction. Like... literally.
He was disciplined and smart but was never boastful. He was very hard working and time cautious. He was kind but he ran his empire with brutality. He was fierce but also calm. He never raised their voice but somehow when he spoke, he sounded like the most dangerous person in a room.
Miles had watched many times as men twice his size go quiet when Hee-soon walked in during their work meetings and dinners they held in the dining room, impromptu. Hee-soon would say nothing but this men would be trembling at his silence.
"What absurdity!" He wanted to yell everytime. Who wouldn't love a man that could easily switch between being so caring one minute and dangerous in another. He was the standard.
But then, there were some things about Kim Hee-soon and his lifestyle that made absolutely no sense.
Hee-soon had on a different pair of pajamas every night. Not just different. They were completely different. Not that Miles cared but he couldn't help but notice. It was always a different fabric, different color and sometimes different style. Were all Koreans like this or it was just a 'rich people' thing?
Miles had done his laundry enough times now to confirm that the man owned what appeared to be an unlimited collection of luxury sleepwear that he wore exactly once before it went into the wash.
Miles had asked Mr Yujin about it once, very carefully, and Mr Yujin had looked at him like he'd asked an absurd question like why the sky was blue. He said "the Chairman does not rewear sleepwear." As if that explained anything. As if that was a normal sentence.
The shoes and suits were the same situation. Different pairs every single day. Miles had counted more than fourteen pairs in just his first week and a half and that wasn't including whatever lived in the wardrobe upstairs which he wasn't allowed to enter.
Once worn, forever retired.
Miles didn't want to think about what that cost per month. Also, he ate fruit with a fork. Even grapes.
'Like who does that?!' Miles had snickered while jotting it down.
He had a specific way of folding his newspaper that Miles had tried to replicate once just to see if he could and had failed completely and never attempted again.
Chairman Hee-soon spoke more than five languages fluently. Miles was in shock because aside from the novel tagging Hee-soon as the standard 'boyfriend or husband material', plus a smart businessman and many other cringe titles.....none of him being a linguist were in the novel.
But the thing that confused Miles the most, the thing he'd written down and then stared at and then crossed out and then written again....was this:
Kim Hee-soon smiled a lot.
Not to everyone. Miles noticed that he only smiled to Mr Yujin, his assistant and...to Miles.
It was a warm smile. And apparently, none of that happened in the actual novel which was strange. In the novel, it was never mentioned that Hee-soon had a habit of smiling. Infact he never did, not even once. Until chapter thirty or so, when Charles and Hee-soon officially became a thing.
Miles had been here for just two weeks. Not even up to, just a week and four days and he'd already seen Hee-soon's smile almost everyday.
And then there was the other thing. The thing Miles had been avoiding writing down because writing it down made it more real.
Hee-soon brought him things everyday he arrived from work at 7PM.
It started on day three. Miles had come into the kitchen in the morning and found a small bag of hallabong on the counter. It was a type of Korean citrus. Bright orange, sitting there. No explanation. And there was a small folded note underneath it.
'Found these on the way back. Have some.'
He'd been standing at the counter that morning, staring at the note when a voice came from behind him.
"Oh. You're here early."
Miles flinched so hard he nearly dropped the hallabong. He turned. "G-Good morning, Sir."
Hee-soon stood in the kitchen doorway looking unreasonably put together for whatever time it was. He smiled and Miles looked away before it could do anything to him.
The Chairman walked in, reached past Miles for the coffee he'd prepared, took one sip and made a sound of quiet approval that Miles absolutely did not store anywhere in his memory. He was heading back out when Miles's voice stopped him.
"S-Sir?"
Hee-soon turned. "Mm?"
Miles held up the hallabong carefully. "A-Are these...for me?"
Hee-soon looked at the fruit. Then at Miles. Then he smiled, nodded and turned back toward the counter.
"Have you had hallabong before?"
"I..no, sir."
"Here." He picked one up, reached for the kitchen knife on the counter at the same moment Miles did. Their hands touched just slightly before Miles pulled back like he'd been burned, hand retreating to his side immediately.
"S-Sorry."
Hee-soon smiled and looked at him for a moment. Then without a word he picked up the knife himself and cut the hallabong cleanly in half. The smell hit immediately. It smelled like heaven. Hee-soon separated a piece and held it out towards Miles.
"Here. Try it."
Miles stared at the piece of fruit being offered to him by his employer in his employer's kitchen at seven in the morning.
Every rational thought he had said 'just take it normally. It is a piece of fruit. You are a grown adult man. It's no big deal.'
But instead he reached out intuitively, yanked the fruit off Hee-soon's hands and put it in his mouth.
He immediately choked.
Not because of the fruit, the fruit was actually incredible. He choked because Hee-soon was watching him eat with so much intention and his facial expression and the very slight curve at the corner of his mouth made Miles's entire nervous system crumble.
He coughed loudly as Hee-soon quickly handed him his coffee without a word.
"Drink slowly," he said quietly as he waited for Miles to calm down. Miles took another sip of the coffee. Then he took in a breath. Then another. He was fine.
By the time he looked up, Hee-soon was already laughing and walking away, jacket in hand, heading toward the door. He mouthed something along the lines of "you should have just let me feed you. I've got magic hands you know" before walking out the door and waving goodbye.
Miles stood alone in the kitchen holding a cup of coffee and half a hallabong cursed under his breath. Not only was that awkward but he made a fool of himself infront of his boss.
Miles shook his head and pressed the notepad against his face as he fought his mind out of that memory.
That had been a week ago and he still wasn't over it.
Anyways, He'd eaten the hallabong and it was very good.
Then on day five, a coffee blend appeared on his workstation. It looked expensive. Strangely, it was the specific brand Miles used to drink back in America that you couldn't find easily in Seoul. Miles had mentioned it exactly once, in passing, during a conversation that lasted approximately forty five seconds.
The note this time said: 'You look tired in the mornings. Take this before you leave for work.'
Miles had read it four times.
On day eight, this week, a small hand cream had appeared on the counter. The note was the shortest one yet.
'For your hands.'
Miles stood there holding it for a full minute. It smelled expensive.
He let out a deep sigh.
He knew what came next in the novel after what happened yesterday when he slipped. He knew exactly what came next. Chapter five and six were the most heated chapters in 'My Marriage Contract to a Mafia Boss.' The dinner party. The pantry. He'd read every single page. He knew every beat, every moment and every scene that was coming. Which meant he couldn't afford to get flustered about anything.
Because in the novel, every time Charles let his guard down, every single time he got comfortable, something happened. Something dangerous and unexpected. To Charles. To Hee-soon. And to everyone they cared about. The novel played around with a lot of twists and turns that were very unexpected.
And even though Miles was not Charles, he was standing in Charles's story. There was no more argument concerning that.
And if he wasn't careful, he was going to end up in Charles's danger too.
He closed the notepad. Tucked it under his pillow with the pen.
'You are not Charles. Charles's ending is not yours. His danger is not yours either. Keep your head down. Do your job. Don't get flustered about handwriting on a note that says 'for your hands.' he thought to himself
"Above all....sleep!" He yelled at himself.
His ankle throbbed quietly but somehow, he will manage.
After a minute, sleep came deliciously swiftly like it always did when it was well earned.