Minseok both abhorred and relished in his writing job at the same time.

He worked as a writer for a magazine, which allowed him to introduce himself as a journalist of sorts, but what he preferred to omit was that he was working for one of those trashy tabloid magazines that people would see on newsstands and petrol kiosk mini marts with the huge blurbs, and he liked to describe it in private as grotesquely exaggerated fan fiction. His job entailed writing salacious tall tales about celebrities, who they were friends with, who they were sleeping with, where they passed out drunk…

Minseok was tired of it all. Still, he didn’t have much of a choice since he was considered one of the so-called star reporters who’d gotten his big break from accidentally discovering a pair of popular idol singers on a date in a cafe which he’d frequented, known for its obscurity in name and location. It was something which he’d equally regretted and relished in, because his pockets grew heavier as compared to when he’d started out on the rumour mill and blind item beat.

It didn’t mean that he couldn’t let his dreams wander out of the box, however. He still had hopes of one day making it big as a journalist for a more major, established publication such as Reuters or The New York Times. He much preferred sewing together pieces of fact rather than fiction, although back in college he’d excelled in fiction writing class and his professor remarked that he’d have a good future in the literature world. Still, his parents were very much traditional, and advised him to take on a job with more stability, which was reporting on news. How he ended up working for a tabloid was out of a lack of choice. The local press offices for the major news outlets were not hiring and the market was dry. He decided to take on the opening for the tabloid, hoping it would be a temporary stepping stone to much greener pastures.

Fast forward seven years, and he still sat behind that stuffy desk in that stuffier cubicle. He didn’t have to worry about being kicked about, however, since he was relatively established and his pinboards in his cubicle were full of his works.

But it is on one cloudy Thursday that things might take a turn for him.




 

☠




 

“Minseok, I’d like to see you in my office.” The chief editor summoned Minseok into his office, and Minseok wondered if he’d have to go scouting to get updates on that couple he’d discovered years ago, whether they were engaged or had already eloped, or had split up.

He stepped into the chief editor’s office with a mix of indifference and a bit of anticipation. Every time he’d make that fateful walk into the editor’s office, he’d both dread and anticipate it, wondering if it was the meeting that could change his path or leave him stuck in the humdrum of celebrity gossip.

He sat down calmly, knowing full well that the editor couldn’t sack him because he knew that he was still the magazine’s best asset. He was intuitive and his writing skills very much honed, even better than he dare say some of the so-called more superior editors.

“You summoned for me, sir?” he smiles, cool as ice. It’s been the same for these seven years, and Minseok wonders if his boss is going to parrot himself again.

“I have an important task for you.”

As expected, Minseok sighs. He always says that before I get sent to stake out some starlet’s haunt or someone’s house.

His boss has his hands together as if praying, and Minseok perks up. He’d learned to observe his boss’ body language over the years, and normally if he was sending Minseok on a scouting trip, he would have his hands resting on the table on a single piece of A4 paper with some information Minseok would need for the assignment. However, his boss was acting differently today, and Minseok allowed the slight glimmer of hope for something different grow.

“As you already know, we compile our 10 Hottest Billionaires to Watch list every year at this time,” his boss warbled. Minseok nodded. It was the magazine’s custom, just like many other publications’, to compile seemingly endless lists of attractive millionaires and billionaires with equally attractive bank account figures and refined family backgrounds. “This year, we’re shifting our focus from the socialites and those so-called ‘social media moguls—” here his boss exaggerated the quotation marks— “to the good old heirs and heiresses running age-old respected family businesses with histories almost as long as the country’s.” Minseok’s eyes widened. The magazine was moving from observing its favourite airheads to good-old family businesses? This was indeed a surprise, Minseok thought. But he decided to conceal his growing excitement in case it would be shattered prematurely.

“I feel that the socialites and social media mogul people are becoming stale in the public’s eyes, don’t you think? I think this country needs to be reminded of some of the old things that helped to boost our country back in those hard times.” Minseok nodded giddily. Finally, he could have the chance to do something very much substantial!

“And also, some little birds tell me that the big shots Bazaar and Tatler are planning on focusing on those young, what do you young people call them—‘Viners’? Those bunch of kids who make six second videos? Tch. They can’t hold a torch to Francis Ford Coppola’s work, let alone hold a lighted match.” Here he took a long sip of his coffee, and Minseok held back the growing urge to giggle. The irony of it all, he thought. On the other hand he wondered why his boss was suddenly getting all substantial on him. Perhaps a thick old encyclopedia fell on his head, he wondered.

“Now, I’m assigning you one of the more important people I want you to interview.” Minseok suddenly sat ramrod straight. Was it going to be the chair of Shin Ramen? A Lotte executive? The Hyundai chairman?

“I’m assigning you the CEO of Kim Toys and Amusements, Mr. Kim Jongin.” Minseok’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates. The CEO of the one and only Kim Toys? He’d grown up playing with the toys they’d manufactured, his favourite as a child the wind-up animatronic penguin which was widely rumoured to have been the basis and inspiration for the popular Pororo character.

“Of course we all know how prestigious and big the Kim corporation is,” the editor grinned, looking more and more like the Cheshire cat. “And also, they’re famous for being extremely private in their personal lives. No journalist has ever managed to get anything out of them personal in nature. At most, you’d know only who runs the company now. Nothing on boyfriends, girlfriends, scandals and all that nonsense. Not evenTatler has ever successfully managed to get an interview from them. But we did, all thanks to you.”

Minseok jerked his head back in surprise. “Me? But how…”

“Apparently the CEO himself has taken a particular liking to your work. Of course, we didn’t send him the really juicy stuff. We sent him the stuff you sent with your resume way back when,” the editor sneered.

Minseok narrowed his eyes. “But that stuff is years old, in journalistic terms,” he remarked skeptically. In a way it was like telling a white lie.

“Well apparently it didn’t matter to the great CEO of Kim Toys, because his secretary has already arranged an interview time with us, at his convenience, of course. So you’ll take this job? I already know many others who are more than willing to.”

Minseok bit his lip. He thought of the others, so hungry to climb the ladder. He thought of Baekhyun, who held some personal vendetta against him since he’d landed that big scoop and tried poorly to conceal his envy; Chanyeol, who had been stuck with the rumour mill even before he’d joined; and Jongdae, who was eagerly waiting for his big break.

He had to take it.

“I’ll do it,” he said confidently. His editor grinned slyly.

“Excellent news. Tuesday at half-past four. His secretary will send you the address of his residence by the end of this week.”

For the first time in his life, when he stepped out of the offices that day, Minseok felt like he was soaring in the clouds. For once, he didn’t have to lie. At least completely, he hoped.




 

☠




 

CEO Kim Jongin’s secretary seemed rather detached in personality, almost robotic, at least in writing; but Minseok presumed that was part of the job as personal secretary to one of the most secretive corporations in the country.

Dear Mr. Kim Minseok,

You will find attached the address of CEO Kim. Please do not divulge this elsewhere.

Please put in your best efforts to be punctual due to the CEO’s hectic schedule.

He looks forward to seeing you.

Sincerely,

Secretary Lee


Minseok stared at the email for a good five minutes. His attention was particularly drawn to the part where the secretary mentioned “He looks forward to seeing you”. He remembered the editor mentioning that the CEO had rather enjoyed looking through his transcripts, but he felt uncharacteristically restless. A thought that the CEO’s intrigue lay beyond his work crept into his mind.

Don’t overthink, Minseok. He shook his head rather violently. You’ve watched too many movies lately. It’s just another job.

Another day at work.

Or so he thought.




 

☠




 

Minseok thought it courteous to send a list of the interview questions to the CEO’s secretary before the actual interview was to be done. He was debating within himself whether to whip out the typical questions that entrepreneurs were asked or if he should come up with something more original. In the end, he decided to go the safe route, opting for the rather mundane questions such as “Who is your greatest role model?” and “How do you feel about the recent spike in young entrepreneurs such as yourself?”

He takes a deep breath, attaching his document to the email and pressing send. He hopes that the interview would go smoothly. He knew a little about these young boss types— they could be rather impatient, arrogant and pompous, and didn’t always answer questions well. He vaguely remembered a colleague lamenting to him about his interview with a young heir to a conglomerate— in the end the journalist had to force himself to flesh out more intelligent-sounding answers to spare some dignity for the subject. The line between ethics and journalism was dimming out slowly but surely, and that gave Minseok yet another reason to dislike the nature of his work.

Within less than two hours, his computer beeps with a notification, causing him to nearly jump off his seat in surprise.

Mr. Kim will carefully look over these questions.

He looks forward to seeing you.

Minseok feels as if a plum is wedged in his throat.




 

☠




 

Minseok finds out from the information that CEO Kim’s secretary kindly provided that the young CEO lived in a large bungalow in the suburbs, relatively keeping its distance from the city. It didn’t come as a great source of curiosity to Minseok because practically anyone could understand that such people preferred to settle well away from the source of their stress. Moreover, CEO Kim was very young by industry standards. It made a lot of sense that he wouldn’t want to be reminded of his daily anxieties.

He made the drive on his own, as the residence wasn’t near any major railway station or bus station. The area where CEO Kim resided was surrounded by plantations and farmland, and the population count could be close to negligible. Perhaps he was one of those types who didn’t really like associating with those of his calibre.

When Minseok reached the front gates, his eyes nearly popped out of his sockets.

The bungalow was gargantuan, painted white as a cloud on a clear day. It kind of reminded Minseok of the French quarter houses he’d read about. It was a beautiful building with a tasteful and simple design. It was probably inspired by European architecture, a lovely contrast from the rather tackily and gaudily designed homes that were inhabited by those so-called ‘famous for being famous’ that Minseok used to pursue in the course of his work.

The gates opened with a long creak, allowing Minseok entry and he parked in the side garage, a common sight in the homes of the wealthy. He got out of the car, his work bag slung around his shoulder. The air was quite fresh, as the area was not one that was occupied by factories.

He walked up to the front door, and the sight on the door slightly disturbed him. It was an old-fashioned door knocker resembling a gargoyle. But it was the only thing that had a semblance of the creature. There were no creatures of stone on the roof, and it was quite puzzling.

Minseok grasped the handle and knocked three times. On the third knock, the door opened gently and he was met with the sight of a tall, rail-thin gentleman appearing advanced in age, in a neatly ironed black coat. He reminded Minseok of Lurch, the loyal butler of the Addams Family, a series he’d enjoyed in his childhood.

“I am Secretary Kim. You must be the journalist. Please follow me,” the gentleman intones smoothly, although Minseok finds himself wincing slightly at the way his voice coils around the word journalist, as if it irked him at the slightest.

As they walk, Minseok takes the opportunity to make observations about the house, which would be good material for writing his introductory paragraphs. The walls were lined with Renaissance portraits, which gave off the eerie notion of being watched. But still, the attention to detail was remarkable.

“That particular painting was commissioned by the CEO’s father himself,” the secretary suddenly commented, turning to a particularly large painting above the fireplace in the sitting room. It is a portrait of the whole family, the late chairman, his wife and a toddler in her arms, who must be the current CEO in his boyhood. Minseok found a slight smile creeping onto his face, for the artist made the boy look rather cherubic.

“Please wait here. He will be with you shortly,” the secretary instructs, smiling warmly before taking his leave.

From the moment Minseok stepped into the expansive property, he felt as if for a moment he was stepping back into a time of coiffured collars. Excellent replicas of Raphael and Michelangelo’s works were neatly placed around the house. It was as if he was in a museum housed in Europe. Minseok was very impressed, and took out his lined notebook, scribbling down quick notes about the choice of decoration of the house, and how easily it rivalled those he had visited in the past.

His vigorous note-taking was quickly interrupted by steady footsteps. He heard murmurs and whispering, but not audible enough for him to take note of anything that could be of significance. A mere occupational hazard.

A lanky figure clad in a black silk robe strode into the sitting room, and when Minseok turned to the source of the footsteps he put two and two and realized he was face to face with the CEO of Kim Toys, the company that created much sources of his joy.

One topic about the elusive Kim family that journalists could find to rave about was the appearance of the young heir. Any photograph of him was quickly circulated and devoured by both the press and internet users.

But Minseok made sure not to stare for too long, for the last thing he wanted to do was to offend his subject. The way that the black silk rested on his skin, however, was slightly distracting. Minseok wondered if he was doing a magazine editorial or an interview.

The corner of the CEO’s lips curled up very slightly. “So you must be Mr. Kim Minseok, journalist,” the CEO remarked, finally breaking the heavy silence between them.

Minseok nodded slowly. “That’s right, sir.” He felt as if he was treading on eggshells. Something about the young heir’s presence made him edgy and he felt the plum in his throat again.

The CEO chuckled. “You may call me Jongin, I am far younger than yourself,” he grins, before picking up a glass of red wine the secretary had just set down on the coffee table.

It’s a very dark shade, Minseok observes. He must like well-aged wine, well these refined sorts mostly do,he thinks, before taking out his notebook.

Minseok glances cautiously back at the CEO— no, Jongin. “If that is fine with you, Jongin, I shall proceed with the interview.”

“Very well,” Jongin concedes, swirling the liquid in his glass in a rather hypnotic rhythm.





 

☠




 

As Minseok proceeds with the interview he doesn’t find himself growing any more calmer, which was rather odd because normally he would find it much easier to talk to his subjects yet talking to Jongin didn’t seem much easier. He wondered if it was the young man’s status, or perhaps he was about to dig deeper into something more sinister.

“Would you like to take a look around my house, Minseok?” the young man offers, his eyes shrinking into his face. “Perhaps it will help you to come up with more interesting material for the article, and to understand me better.”

Minseok concedes, and lets the younger man lead the way. Jongin goes into a long description of his family’s proud history, and Minseok devours every word, materializing it into abbreviations in his notebook to be more efficiently transcribed later.

“You seem to have very thick curtains in your house, Jongin,” Minseok remarks offhandedly. “The lighting is quite dim in the house, I’ve noticed.”

Jongin chuckles. “I have rather sensitive eyes and skin,” he replies calmly. “It is a family ailment, unfortunately, hence the choice in decorating.”

They proceed deeper into the house, Jongin continuing to chronicle his family history and occasionally his areas of interest. He was more introverted than Minseok thought, and preferred little company, preferring to spend time in his home’s library and study. Which of course Minseok decided to request a tour of.

The library and study were both individual architectural masterpieces in themselves. Both had frescos lining the ceiling, with cherubs, angels, and the occasional sibyl. Minseok found his mouth agape in awe.

Jongin snickered. “You are probably one of the few who can appreciate such work,” he remarked, glancing at Minseok’s lips for a moment. Minseok grinned in reply. “Well, when you do what I do, such things in our world today are the rarity.”

Jongin raised an eyebrow in question. “Really? I thought journalism was quite the refined profession.”

Minseok sighed. “Well when you have the term tossed around so loosely, what with the tabloids and social media, well— makes you miss the past a little.”

Jongin chuckled. “You speak as if you talk about the distant past.”

“Well, I am older than you by comparison, so,” Minseok shrugged.

The younger man merely replied with an odd smile that made a few hairs on the back on Minseok’s neck stand at attention.




 

☠




 

Minseok is allowed to wander the library, lined with both old and new books. His attention turns to a particularly thick volume titled “Human Anatomy, Vol. VII”. Minseok narrows his eyes. He didn’t know that there was so much to be written about the anatomy of a human person.

His eyes travel and land on the author’s name, a mere monosyllabic “Kai”. It added to the mystery, Minseok thought. Well science was quite controversial at the time, what with religious bodies and scientific bodies clashing.

The book contained very intricate details, the drawings almost as detailed as Da Vinci’s original Vitruvian Man and long comments scrawled in what looked like Latin. It was quite impressive, yet the intricate, almost intimate nature of the drawings made Minseok feel as if his intestines were being knotted. What particularly equally startled and fascinated him was the details of the circulatory system. It made him wonder if perhaps the Kim family had a relative or descendant who could be a medical student or a cardiologist, even.

Minseok felt a presence behind him, and nearly jumped in fright when he realized it was merely his host, smiling at him.

“Do you have a medical student in the family? Some of these books are quite fascinating.”

Jongin exhaled loudly in mid-thought. “Not exactly, but I suggest you not touch those. They are very fragile.”

Minseok quickly returned the book to its shelf. He didn’t want to damage private property either. Best follow what the owner says.




 

☠




 

“You have a beautiful house, Jongin,” Minseok is on the verge of sounding like he’s swooning, as they sit in Jongin’s equally impressive private quarters, and Minseok finds himself getting very comfortable in the velvet sofa in Jongin’s private sitting room. Jongin grins back, pleased by the compliment. But the smile disappears, and Minseok wonders if something has bothered him.

“There’s something you should know about me, Minseok.” Jongin’s smile fades.

Minseok’s forehead creases into a frown. “Okay, well, if you’re comfortable with talking about it, then—”

“I’m not like other people, Minseok.”

“Well, I can see that. Not many people have accomplished this much at your age.”

“You don’t understand, Minseok. When I say I’m not like other people—” he takes a step closer into Minseok’s space, and Minseok realizes that where he should be feeling breath ghosting on his face, he doesn’t.

“I’m not people—I mean, I’m not exactly what regular people would term as a person.”

Minseok is still quite confused. “I still don’t understand.”

“Then look,” Jongin lifts a hand to his face, towards his eyes— “And understand.”

Jongin reaches for one of his eyes, appearing to pinch his eyeball. Minseok pales and nearly collapses in shock, because the young man looks as if he’s about to gouge his own eye out- but he realizes that he is taking out what looks an awful lot like regular contact lenses.

In place of the brown irises are two amber circles, glowing in the late afternoon sun that streams in thin beams, for the curtains have been drawn slightly.

“Whoa.” Minseok’s mouth is agape, just as when he saw the house’s library.

Jongin’s mouth curls into a smirk. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

He opens his mouth to smile, and near the corner of his lips where the canines should be, his teeth are longer and sharper, almost like tiny daggers in his mouth.

Minseok’s eyes widen. “That’s...not a costume, right?” he stutters.

Jongin grins, and he looks even more threatening with his teeth out like knives and eyes glowing orange. “No. This is how it has been for nearly centuries.”

Minseok raises his hands in a rather useless show of defense. “I hope you don’t think of eating me,” he remarks.

Jongin sighs and yanks Minseok’s hands down. “I’m not going to eat you, Minseok,” he drawls. “My kind feed on humans’ life essences, known by the common term blood.”

“Then are you going to drink my blood, then?” Minseok squeaks, like a mouse whose tail has been caught in a cat’s paw.

Jongin chuckles warmly, and for a moment he looks, well, human.

“I will not. I have my dignity to preserve. Only if you allow it.”

“You don’t, well, starve?” Minseok persists. Surely, if he has been around for hundreds of years as he suggested, there had to be a way he was getting his unconventional dietary needs met.

Jongin merely shook his head. “I have my ways. And I’m sure you saw me feeding earlier. Didn’t want you to panic,” he smiles, the amber circles disappearing for a moment into his face.

And the realization comes crashing down on Minseok like a tidal wave. The thick curtains, the gargoyles, the one too many volumes on anatomy, that suspiciously dark red wine—of course. Why hadn’t he seen it coming?

“Then the family picture. I’m sure your kind don’t age, from what I’ve read, so what does it mean?”

Jongin raises an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re very observant, Minseok. Well it is the nature of your job, so I can’t fault you. I was well, what’s the best term for it—turned—when I was slightly younger. Physically I appear to be in my twenties, and I was turned slightly before that. My appearance has not altered too significantly. The man—my father—is actually the head of the clan.”

“That means you’re implying that you were once, well, human.” Minseok remarks, tapping his pen to his chin.

Jongin replies with a slight nod. “But I was willing, of course. The clan head gave me a choice, unlike so many of my brethren who mostly unfortunately are turned by force. I owed a lot to him, and he was very patient.”

Minseok wondered for a moment what kind of past that Jongin had that made him owe so much to that old clan head. But he thought it best to to pursue the subject, for he could very well lose his life on the spot.

“Then is that clan head still alive?” Minseok continued.

Jongin shook his head. “He was staked and sealed beneath his private residence. It was more of a precaution to avert suspicion since he’s been around for so long. Much longer than myself, it goes without saying.”

“So when the time was right, you appeared, to give the impression that you had been groomed your whole life for the position?” Minseok began to put the pieces together, earning a slow series of claps from the vampire.

“Very good, Minseok,” Jongin lilted. “You can write my family’s history for me now.” For a moment Minseok could detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Then I should tell you something about myself too,” Minseok admitted. “I’m not a proper news journalist. I’m the kind who writes tabloids and strings things out of rumour.”

Jongin frowned. “I see. So your company lied to me,” he hums coldly.

“I am sorry about that, I am, but I can assure you that I’m not going to write every little detail down and publish it all.”

Jongin widened his eyes in surprise. “Really? Won’t you get in trouble for doing that?”

Minseok smiles and shrugs. “I think—after meeting you—and really getting to know you—I might have to change course a little.”

Jongin grins. “I knew you were different, Minseok.”

Minseok’s lips tighten into a line. “Different?”

“You don’t seem to have the same well, hunger, as your other—pardon my language—vermin colleagues. They’re always clamouring to write the next big thing, whether it’s half truth or one-quarter truth.” Jongin sounds quite disgusted.

Minseok smiles. “I suppose that’s a compliment?”

“Yes. Now will you let me feed on you? You don’t seem too afraid of me anyway, and it doesn’t help that your scent is quite distracting—I’ve been trying to hold back for the past hour or so,” Jongin snickers, and Minseok wonders if he is half-joking or serious.

The corner of Minseok’s lips curl up. “Does that mean I’ll be turned?” he enunciates carefully.

Jongin laughs. “That is if you feed on my blood, which in all essence, tastes a little more vile than yours.”

Minseok snorts. “It’s a no from me anyway.”

"You're not afraid—of me?" Jongin murmurs, like a curious child.

Minseok chuckles. "I've seen more bizarre things in my line of work."

The vampire pouts, as if his pride has taken a hit, and it looks almost cute since he physically looks twenty but now that Minseok knows his true nature it just seems slightly unnerving.

As Minseok leaves the house later, Jongin following closely behind him, the vampire winks, and his eyes look like semi-precious stones. “See you around, Minseok.” the vampire whispers, his lips almost touching the shell of Minseok’s ear, earning a slight jolt.

Minseok had a lot to think about that night.

He dreams restlessly of flying papers and talking gargoyles and an attractive young man who looks like he has the sun for his eyes.




 

☠




 

Minseok hands in the full interview the following morning, but he does not wear his usual smile of relief at completing another assignment and readiness for another.

"Here is the transcript of the interview with Kim Toys’ CEO. Unfortunately, this will also be my last assignment with the magazine. I'm here to also hand in my letter of resignation." Minseok exhales.

"You want to leave? But why? You're our golden boy, our star reporter," the editor remarks, bemused.

"I feel that my calling is apparently elsewhere," Minseok sighs with a hint of wistfulness.

"Did that CEO Kim offer you a job somewhere?" the editor asks, cocking his head to the side.

Minseok smiles. "No," he replies simply. "But I am very grateful for the years of guidance you have given me." Minseok feels that he ought to be gracious at the very least. Burning bridges will not work in his favour, as much as he disliked the environment of formulating lies and profiting heavily from them.




 

☠




 

Minseok spends a good two and a half months cooped up in his tiny apartment plastered in front of his laptop, sitting amongst towers of books on fairy tales, folklore and the like from a generous donor and an annotated copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula neatly resting in a corner of his desk.

Surprisingly, perhaps due to his previous reputation, he does not face much difficulty in finding a suitable publisher and getting his book published on top of that. As he walks out of the publisher's offices, successfully landing a deal with them, he takes a glance at the line of aspiring writers eyeing him with envy, clutching thick manuscripts in hand.

The Vampires of Gangnam debuts at number four in Korea's bookstores. It eventually gets mentioned in foreign press, and Minseok is giddy with delight when he gets a review in the New York Times, calling him Korea's closest answer to a modern Bram Stoker, rich in “originality and prose”. He even gets a call from his agent, practically screaming into the phone that the renowned Korean director Kim Ki Duk wanted to discuss the possibility of a film adaptation of his book.

He also gets the occasional text message from an unknown number, but it doesn’t take too many guesses for Minseok to realize who his anonymous sender is, and he is actually quite impressed at the fellow’s ability to grasp the concept of technology.

good job making it to nyt. im impressed :-) -j

did i use the emotion symbol correctly -j

title is too cheesy. i have a list of ideas if u want to reconsider -j

Minseok however, finds himself replying to only one in particular.

how about coming over for a drink? -j

thanks for the offer, but it’s a no thanks.

But he eventually graciously declines the offer for the film, much to the horror of his agent. Some things were best left in print, to the imagination of the reader. And he thought it would be out of due respect for the one whom it was based on.

A few days after the explosive news is released that he denied the legendary director’s offer, he gets a surprise phone call.

Incoming call: private

“Hello?”

A familiar satin voice hovers over the receiver.

“It’s me, Minseok.”

Minseok wonders if Jongin can hear the smile in his voice.

“If this is about that drink, I already told you-”

“Thank you.”

Minseok raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You heard me. Thank you.”

“Whatever for?” Minseok is still quite confused.

That soft, hearty laugh rings through the receiver. “For not agreeing to put my life story on television.”

Minseok chuckles. “It’s nothing, really.”

Jongin suddenly grows serious. “Still, not many people would have done what you did, what with the temptation placed nicely on a platter before them. That director fellow still has yet to reach Coppola’s level, though Coppola himself missed a few notches,” he yawns.

Minseok snickers at the vampire’s passivity. “You’re most welcome anyway.”

“Minseok?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to come over for a drink? How does a good old glass of red sound? Just to...celebrate,” Jongin hums, earning a grin from Minseok.

A short pause.

“I’d love to.”