Ex Sponsor 131

Chapter 131

Cheong-yeon deliberately ignored the subtle change in atmosphere and took out two sets of utensils without looking at Do-heon.

Meanwhile, Do-heon heated up the soup and brought side dishes from the refrigerator. After serving the rice, a proper meal was quickly laid out.

All their actions flowed naturally. As if they still lived together in this house.

The needlessly perfect coordination made Cheong-yeon feel strangely unsettled.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Do-heon, despite being the one who suggested they eat together, hadn’t even picked up his chopsticks after setting the table. Cheong-yeon looked at him oddly while taking a spoonful of soup.

“Not really.”

“……”

Cheong-yeon was at a loss for words.

This is ridiculous. Why did he ask me to eat together? He should’ve just let me go home.

Just as he was about to say he’d get up and leave, Do-heon began eating with slow movements.

And throughout the meal, Do-heon didn’t say a word. He was normally quiet, but today the atmosphere felt especially heavy.

Why is he acting so strangely? Perplexed by his incomprehensible attitude, Cheong-yeon kept glancing at his face. Is he sick? Or did he get scolded at work? But who could possibly scold Director Do-heon at the company?

Catching himself in these idle thoughts, Cheong-yeon looked away from Do-heon. He just wanted to finish eating quickly and leave.

“……”

But silence was torturous for Cheong-yeon. Eating without saying a word made him feel like he was chewing rubber instead of food.

Feeling he might get indigestion at this rate, Cheong-yeon cleared his throat a few times and broke the silence.

“Did something happen at work?”

Do-heon stopped his chopsticks and looked at Cheong-yeon.

“Does it seem that way?”

“You just seem to be in a bad mood.”

Did stocks fall? Is it time to buy JT Electronics? Inappropriate conjectures randomly popped into his mind. Nothing except a stock market crash seemed like a valid reason for Do-heon to be this downcast.

Or maybe he was still upset about yesterday’s article.

“If you didn’t want to eat and I forced you…”

“What you said yesterday.”

Do-heon cut off Cheong-yeon’s words.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

Cheong-yeon asked as if he didn’t understand.

What did I say yesterday? There had been an article with initials seemingly targeting Do-heon, and Cheong-yeon had said there was no need to inform him of the facts and that Do-heon shouldn’t worry about him.

‘Are you saying you wouldn’t mind if I married another Omega?’

Ah. And he had also said he wouldn’t mind if Do-heon married someone else.

But why bring that up now? Had it bothered him?

Looking back, Do-heon’s reaction had been different from usual.

“I did mean it.”

Cheong-yeon answered clearly.

“What I meant was… well, of course I’d care somewhat. But you don’t really need someone like me anyway…”

“How strange. Both Moon Hee-jin and you speak as if you know better than I do what I need.”

“……”

“Yet I’ve never said such things myself.”

Somehow it sounded like he was criticizing Cheong-yeon. Cheong-yeon turned his words over in his mind.

“Is that so? But it’s true that I wasn’t a good match for you, Director. You should know after living with me for three years.”

Though Do-heon’s gaze on him was intensely piercing, Cheong-yeon continued calmly without losing his composure.

“I only meant that I hope you find someone who’s actually beneficial to you.”

“Who are you to say that? Did I ever ask you for what I need?”

There was clear hostility seeping into Do-heon’s voice.

“When you put it that way… I have nothing to say.”

Cheong-yeon swallowed a sigh and looked away. Honestly, he couldn’t understand why Do-heon was being so sharp, but he didn’t want to get into an argument.

“Do as you please. Whether you marry or not is your choice, Director.”

Cheong-yeon shrugged as if it were an insignificant matter. Just as he was about to continue eating, Do-heon spoke again.

“About coming back home.”

“……”

“You still have no intention?”

The unexpected question nearly made him choke.

“…No, I don’t.”

“Even if I were to void the contract, as you’ve wanted?”

This was outrageous. Even if the sponsorship contract disappeared, there would be another contract—the marriage certificate—so why would I?

For Cheong-yeon, there was no need to consider this. Despite having refused multiple times, he couldn’t understand why Do-heon, so uncharacteristically, kept asking the same question.

“I’m tired of answering this. Haa. Let me say it one last time. I don’t want to live with you, Director.”

Cheong-yeon firmly rejected what seemed like a businesslike proposal with not an ounce of romance. As he spoke while looking directly into Do-heon’s dark eyes, something he wanted to ask suddenly occurred to him.

“By the way, Director. Did we… meet when we were young?”

Ever since meeting his uncle recently, Cheong-yeon had been thinking that perhaps Do-heon’s reason for holding onto him might be due to a childhood connection.

Although he couldn’t remember, if there was some special history between them, it might help him vaguely understand Do-heon’s current attitude.

“How do you know that?”

“Ah, so it’s true.”

Apparently his uncle hadn’t completely made it up.

“I happened to hear about it… But why did you never tell me? That we’d met before.”

“Why is that relevant now?”

“Just… I’m curious.”

“What difference would it make to tell you about something you don’t remember?”

“Is that why you never told me until now?”

“It was unnecessary information.”

Cheong-yeon fell into thought. The word “unnecessary” that Do-heon used seemed to pierce deeply into his heart.

“You know, while living with you, I wondered every day, from waking up in the morning until falling asleep—why did this person marry me?”

Cheong-yeon began, recalling his past self.

“Was it because you didn’t want to marry the person your family arranged, and also because you pitied me? Was there really not even a speck of any other reason?”

Once such doubts began to sprout, he couldn’t answer them himself and would often spend the entire day sunk in depression.

“We lived together for three years… but you never told me what you liked about me, or why you proposed to me.”

Do-heon probably wouldn’t understand why he was saying all this, but Cheong-yeon steadfastly continued.

“So I decided to try my best to give you at least one reason. I tried to behave like other wealthy kids, studied art, carefully picked out your clothes, and tried to shape everything—what I wore, ate, and said—into someone you would like. Miserably wearing a fake shell.”

As he spoke, his throat tightened with old memories. He had to pause briefly to catch his breath.

“Even though everyone looked down on me… I diligently attended all those gatherings where couples had to come together. I lived like that for three years.”

Cheong-yeon continued, avoiding Do-heon’s gaze. He felt that if their eyes met now, the calm he was barely maintaining would crumble.

“But then it occurs to me. If you had just told me that we had met briefly, by chance, when we were young. Then at least I could have consoled myself with ‘he married me because of our past connection.’ Just that one line would have made me a little less anxious every day.”

Do-heon’s response that he hadn’t felt the slightest need to share such information seemed to only highlight how clear the boundary between them was.

Do-heon was never the kind of sensitive, ordinary person who could consider each of Cheong-yeon’s insecurities and anxieties. And what Cheong-yeon had consistently wanted was an ordinary Moon Do-heon.

“This is why I never want to go back to you, Director.”

Only after finishing everything he wanted to say did Cheong-yeon raise his eyes to meet Do-heon’s.

“What about you? What exactly do you like about me that makes you want to live with me? Why?”

Cheong-yeon swallowed dryly as he questioned Do-heon.

“This time, I’d really like you to be honest.”

A few seconds of silence followed.

“Because you were pitiful and convenient.”

“……”

“Everything about how you adjusted to me.”

His answer made Cheong-yeon feel dizzy, as if the ground beneath him had collapsed.

“That’s why I need you.”

Shamefully, for a moment he thought Do-heon was confessing. Even if not saying he loved him, he had rashly presumed it would be feelings of that caliber.

The unexpected answer made him feel a distant detachment, as if his mind were separating from his body and dispersing into the air while facing Do-heon.

Ah. So I’ve been constantly pitied by Moon Do-heon.

Cheong-yeon couldn’t find words to respond and froze with his hand covering his mouth.

Suddenly everything felt empty. This relationship, the time they had built together. Everything.

And his heart ached.

Cheong-yeon slowly nodded. In a way, he was grateful that Do-heon had been honest. His cruelly direct manner was quintessentially Moon Do-heon until the end.