The residence of Jeon Haneul, Jeon Seoyoon, and their kids is not referred to by anyone as the Jeon home—it's the Maybell House, as it sits nestled in a cul-de-sac at the end of Maybell road. It's a neat little craftsman: three bedrooms, two and a half baths, nearly four-thousand square feet. So, perhaps not little, but it's on the small side for a family home in this particular area. Namjoon knows; he was the one who sold Haneul the house eighteen months ago.
Namjoon always thought himself to be above concern over luxuries. The engine light on his 2002 Corolla was a permanent fixture on his dashboard and the passenger-side window wouldn't roll all the way down, but it got him through all four years of college. He showed up to his interview at the real estate agency in a suit he picked up for a few bucks at a thrift store. As long as he learned to do his job well, the quality of his material possessions shouldn't matter.
Then he met Jeon Haneul.
A valued client.
Still getting his feet wet in the business, he was tasked with showing Jeon the Maybell House. The majority of the pressure came from his seniors in the agency. He had no idea who Jeon actually was, just that he bought and sold a lot of properties. It wasn't until Jeon rolled up in a sparkling white BMW that Namjoon's stomach began to boil over with dread. His poor Corolla was clearly on its last legs and his suit pants were an inch too short. He looked like an absolute stooge.
Despite Namjoon's trembling hands, the showing went well. He had answers to most of Jeon's questions, but a few made him stumble and sent him fumbling through his notes to figure out how long ago the electrical had been replaced and what the hell the bathroom vanities were made out of. Jeon, thankfully, was patient with him. Far more patient than a man of his caliber reasonably should have been with a realtor's apprentice driving a shitty Corolla.
"Well, it looks like it's in decent shape," Jeon said as they re-entered the kitchen. "None of the floorboards are missing, which is always a plus. Although, you never know exactly what you're going to get until you poke holes in the walls and see what sorts of monsters are lurking inside."
Namjoon's paperwork provided him no assistance in responding. "I—As far as the owners have said, everything is—"
"I'm not concerned. Just thinking out loud." Jeon folded his arms on the edge of the ugly green plastic counter, leveling Namjoon with an uncomfortably intense gaze. He was a small person, especially for an alpha. Pretty, though. Naturally so—not in the way that aging alphas had a tendency to cling to their youth. Void of makeup, wearing a dress shirt that looked like one of the patterned carpets in The Shining. "Your agency is good at selling houses, you know. I wouldn't be surprised to happen upon a dead body during a showing and still end up getting convinced to put in an offer."
Namjoon choked, unsure if he should laugh or not. It wasn't so much that the joke was funny as it was that fact that he was so fucking nervous. "I-I'm not sure how I would feel showing a house with... with something like that in it, sir."
"No, that would have to wait until the moral parts of your soul get killed off," Jeon replied, lips twitching up into a smirk.
That certainly wasn't mentioned in the property's paperwork. It wasn't even mentioned in the job interview. "Um, I..."
"Is this what you want to do with your life, Mr. Kim?"
Blinking, Namjoon tried to swallow the lump in his throat so that he could speak. "I-I'm sorry, sir?"
Jeon waved a hand around the kitchen. "Showing elegant properties to pretentious fucks like me," he said. "Not that I would call this one elegant, but I specifically asked for cheap and shitty. But I'm the least pretentious fuck you'll ever have to deal with in this business, and I'm still very, very pretentious."
