Yueul gathered his courage and stepped out of the room. He approached Wooheon, who was sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed, and spoke up.
“Could we talk, Mr. Kang?”
However, Yueul’s voice was drowned out by the blaring music.
That was to be expected—Wooheon had blasted some grand classical pieces as soon as he came home, the kind widely recognized and remembered.
But they were all overly dramatic, most of them being the kind of tracks that could underscore a battle scene.
As he listened, Yueul couldn’t help but imagine himself as a weasel being hunted by a black mamba.
Even in his room, he felt the black mamba’s eyes on him.
He had to put a stop to it.
“Mr. Kang....”
His soft voice was once again swallowed by the booming music.
Yueul licked his dry lips nervously and stepped closer to Wooheon.
The black scales on Wooheon’s face made it seem as though he could transform into a snake at any moment.
Determined, Yueul leaned in further to whisper.
