Chapter 7
At one o'clock in the morning, the architecture workshop was so quiet that one could clearly hear the gentle patter of late autumn rain against the tall glass windows. Two-thirds of the overhead fluorescent lights had been switched off, leaving only a few warm yellow glows illuminating two working desks positioned directly opposite each other.
The scent of drafting paper, faint printing ink, and raw wood from scaled models blended together, creating an atmosphere thick with exhaustion. The project had reached the phase of finalizing preliminary floor plans, and James and Juhoon were the only two left behind.
James leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen displaying structural load-bearing parameters. Dressed simply in a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his usually neatly combed hair now fell slightly over his forehead. His calm, professional demeanor still cloaked him like solid armor, despite his eyes being bloodshot and heavy after hours of continuous work.
Across from him, Juhoon set his drafting pencil down. Stretching his torso, his spine gave off a faint cracking sound. The younger student's sharp gaze unhesitatingly rested on James's composed profile.
After their unresolved confrontation at Martin's place the previous night, Juhoon still hadn't swallowed his irritation. James was far too good at defending himself. His "senior duty" shield was as smooth and unyielding as polished concrete, leaving Juhoon with no handhold to tear it apart.
Juhoon smirked. Standing up, he casually dragged his wooden stool around the row of desks, approaching James's workspace.
"Senior," Juhoon called out, the wooden stool scraping softly against the floor.
James didn't look up, merely shifting his mouse slightly: "Speak."
Juhoon set his stool down right beside James's chair, instantly narrowing the space between them to less than half an arm's length. Leaning both elbows on James's desk, he brought his head close to the screen:
"This joint detail at the skylight corner. The glass load seems to be pressing too heavily on the secondary column. Take another look."
The faint scent of sandalwood mixed with the familiar bitter cinnamon from Juhoon brushed directly against James's senses. The sudden proximity and the warm breath hovering near his ear caused James's finger on the mouse to freeze for a fraction of a second.
Yet, keeping his expression devoid of any ripples, he slowly turned his head. Their faces were now so close that James could clearly see the golden light reflected in Juhoon's dark, arrogant eyes.
"I've already calculated the safety margin," James stated calmly, not pulling back even a single inch. "That secondary column uses high-strength steel. The load distributed there is well within code."
Juhoon narrowed his eyes, the corners of his lips curling upward slightly: "Really? Or are you intentionally over-engineering the load parameters... just to build another safety valve for yourself?"
James stared at Juhoon for a solid two seconds. He smoothly snapped his laptop shut with a clean click, then turned his body completely to face the younger man.
"Did you drag your chair over here to ask about structure, or to talk nonsense?"
Juhoon crossed his arms, leaning back against the edge of James's desk in a posture brimming with provocation: "Both. But watching you try so hard to play the perfect senior all day... I'm getting tired just looking at you."
James didn't rise to the bait. His gaze casually drifted down to Juhoon's right hand resting on his thigh. The younger man's long, slender fingers were trembling faintly-a completely natural physical reaction after drawing fine lines continuously for over ten hours.
James casually opened his desk drawer. He pulled out an unopened herbal pain-relief patch along with a packet of chamomile tea, sliding both items across the wooden surface toward Juhoon.
"Drawing without pacing your strength will only ruin your hand," James said in a flat, emotionless tone. "There's hot water in the corner. Drink up and wrap things up. We're done for today."
Juhoon froze for a moment. He looked at the pain-relief patch on the desk, then raised his eyes to meet James's cool expression. A familiar smirk reappeared on the younger man's face:
"Senior duties again?"
James stood up, grabbing his coat draped over the back of his chair, brushing casually past Juhoon: "Interpret it however you like."
Juhoon turned to watch James's composed figure walk toward the studio door. He picked up the pain-relief patch, lightly running his fingers over the plastic wrapper. The care wrapped inside James's indifference felt like a sugared pill-instantly warming Juhoon's chest while stoking his competitive fire even harder.
The next morning, the atmosphere in the workshop grew suffocating in an entirely different manner.
Around ten o'clock, a middle-aged man in an expensive gray suit arrived accompanied by two assistants. It was Director Dai, the legal representative of the major real estate conglomerate partnering on the project-and the man authorized by Juhoon's father to "supervise" progress.
"I've reviewed the latest floor plan drafts," Director Dai announced overbearingly, tossing a stack of documents onto the central conference table. "What on earth are you doing? What is this central void space for? It wastes nearly fifteen percent of usable floor area! Commercial profit lies in square meters sold, not in your whimsical open spaces!"
Team members like Keonho and Seonghyeon bowed their heads in silence, nobody daring to speak up against such a major client.
Juhoon stood leaning against the table, hands jammed into his pockets. His eyes were cold, radiating blatant contempt and defiance. He was all too familiar with this utilitarian mindset-the exact same rigid logic his father used to suffocate his artistic identity since childhood. He stepped forward, ready to snap back with his usual arrogance.
Before Juhoon could utter a word, a tall figure stepped forward, placing himself directly between Juhoon and the client.
It was James.
James stood tall, his posture perfectly upright, his expression completely unfazed by the director's aggressive tone. Unrolling a large A0 blueprint with measured movements, he spoke in a clear, commanding voice:
"Director Dai, you are evaluating this project solely from the perspective of a conventional commercial building. However, the Group's initial directive when signing with us was to create a 'Green Architectural Landmark' for the new urban district."
Director Dai frowned: "So what? Reducing open space still allows for green architecture!"
"It doesn't," James interrupted, remarkably polite yet unyielding. "The void space designed by Architect Juhoon is not merely a decorative opening. It serves as the primary natural air circulation shaft and passive lighting system for all four floors below."
James pointed his laser pen at the technical cross-sections on the drawing:
"If we fill this void space to gain an extra fifty square meters of floor area, the central HVAC system will have to operate at a 35% higher load annually. Artificial lighting will need to run 24/7 in dark corners. Within five years, operational costs will far exceed the rental income gained from that floor area. Not to mention, the brand value of securing an international Green Building Certification will be completely erased."
The sharp, flawless logic, backed by precise technical metrics addressing economic impact, caught Director Dai off guard. The middle-aged man's face shifted as he stared intently at James and then back at the meticulously detailed blueprint.
"Furthermore," James added, his gaze unwavering as he met his opponent's eyes head-on. "Architect Juhoon's spatial handling in this proposal is the sole highlight that sets our project apart from dozens of cookie-cutter commercial towers out there. As Lead Architect, I take full responsibility for retaining this design."
The entire studio fell into absolute silence. Director Dai took a deep breath, nodding stiffly as he gathered his papers: "Fine... Send a detailed operational cost projection to my office by Friday. We'll discuss it then."
As the corporate delegation departed, a collective sigh of relief washed over the team.
Juhoon remained standing in place, his eyes locked onto James's back.
All his life, when faced with pressure and control from his powerful father or pragmatic businessmen, Juhoon had always chosen to bristle, rebel, and take the hits alone. This was the first time someone had stepped up, using sheer composure and flawless expertise as a solid shield to protect his artistic vision from the outside world.
James turned around. Catching Juhoon staring at him, he merely offered a subtle nod, speaking casually: "Get back to work. Juhoon and I are heading out for the site survey this afternoon."
Juhoon's heart, usually so proud and unyielding, unexpectedly skipped a heavy beat.
Four in the afternoon. The survey site was located on the outskirts of the city, an abandoned industrial compound being cleared for the new project.
The late autumn sky wept continuously, casting a heavy, gray downpour that rendered the surroundings cold and damp. The sound of rain beating against rusting corrugated iron sheets echoed harshly.
James and Juhoon wore safety helmets, navigating through piles of rubble and weathered metal scaffolding. James held a laser measure, jotting down data in his notebook while carefully monitoring their surroundings.
"The terrain here shows minor subsidence on the western corner," James called out, raising his voice to cut through the rain. "When designing the foundation, you need to keep in mind..."
Suddenly, from the second story of an unfinished brick wall above them, a sickening cracking sound rent the air.
Soaked by rain over days, the old brick wall combined with the waterlogged wooden scaffolding above lost structural integrity, tipping precariously right toward where Juhoon was standing.
"Juhoon! Watch out!"
James's shout shattered the sound of falling rain.
All professional calculations, all shields of "senior responsibility," and the calm distance he maintained every day vanished into thin air in a fraction of a millisecond.
Driven by pure human instinct, James lunged forward like an arrow. Using his full upper-body strength, he shoved Juhoon hard into the safety of a narrow concrete wall recess nearby.
CRASH!
A rain of heavy debris and rotten timber collapsed directly over the spot where Juhoon had been standing, sending water and mortar flying everywhere.
In the cramped concrete recess barely wide enough for two people, Juhoon's back slammed hard against the cold stone. Before he could process what had happened, he found James pressed flush against him.
James gripped Juhoon's shoulders tightly. His fingers dug in with such force that it bordered on painful. The senior's breathing was ragged and shallow, his usually tranquil eyes wide with raw panic, chaos, and an uncontainable surge of terror.
"Are you alright?! Did anything hit you?!" James demanded frantically, his eyes sweeping over Juhoon from head to toe.
Juhoon was stunned. He could feel the slight tremor in James's hands clinging to his shoulders. James's heart was hammering wildly against Juhoon's chest through his soaked shirt.
Juhoon's gaze dropped, landing on James's right arm. The fabric of his dress shirt was torn open, a jagged scratch from a wooden beam bleeding fresh red into the rainwater.
This level of uncontrolled panic... could never belong to a mere "dutiful senior."
Juhoon took a deep breath. Slowly raising his hand, he clamped his fingers firmly around James's bleeding wrist. His grip was uncompromising and tight.
Juhoon raised his eyes, his dark, sharp gaze cutting straight into the chaos swirling in James's eyes. A cold, arrogant, and fiercely provocative smirk tugged at the corner of his lips:
"Keonho or Seonghyeon... if it were them standing there, would you have thrown yourself out to shield them like this too, James?"
No "Senior." Juhoon had dropped the title entirely, calling him directly by his name.
James froze.
The air inside the narrow concrete recess turned dead quiet. The torrential downpour outside seemed to recede into the background. James stared at Juhoon's hand clamping his wrist, then looked into the younger man's burning eyes.
One second. Two seconds.
The panic in James's eyes gradually receded, replaced by a cold, sobering reality. His chest heaved as he systematically reined his frantic breathing back under control.
The stubbornness and pride of the composed senior flared up once more, rebuilding his impenetrable shield.
James calmly, yet decisively, pried Juhoon's hand off his wrist. Stepping back half a pace, he straightened his posture, using his free hand to fix his disheveled collar.
He looked up, completely regaining his cool, flat, unbothered expression:
"I am the Lead Architect. If any team member under my supervision faces danger on a site visit, it is my duty to ensure their safety. That is the bare minimum standard of protocol."
James paused, his tranquil eyes meeting Juhoon's, his voice dropping into a cold, authoritative register:
"Don't read ridiculous things into it."
Without another word, James turned on his heel and walked calmly out of the recess, resuming his site inspection as if no panic or chaotic emotions had ever transpired.
Juhoon remained alone in the cramped corner.
He looked at his hand that James had just brushed away, then at the tall figure of the senior standing in the rain, blood still smudging his sleeve.
A wave of sheer, suffocating irritation surged straight up into Juhoon's chest. He slammed his fist lightly against the concrete wall beside him.
Protocols again! That damn shield of responsibility again! James could throw himself into danger to save him, could bleed for him, but refused to utter a single word acknowledging his true feelings. He was stubborn and unyielding to the point of maddening.
Juhoon wiped a streak of rainwater from his face. But then, instead of remaining angry, a sharp, cold, and dangerous smirk slowly spread across his lips.
The younger man's arrogance, fiery competitive nature, and obsession were stoked to their absolute peak.
The tougher the armor, the more impregnable the defense... the more thrilling it would be to strip it away layer by layer. This game was only just beginning.
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