But now they were planning to snatch it away the moment he disappeared?
Absolutely not. He couldn’t allow that. Those were practically the last gifts his father had given him—he couldn’t lose even those.
At that moment, Choi Suho remembered another item his late father had given him as a joining-the-company gift.
—It’s a tie your Omega dad cherished. I gave it to him when we first met, and he really liked it. It was something he loved until the very end. Now that you’ve joined Free Electronics, I’m giving it to you. Your dad would like that.
The tie that his Omega father—Choi Juho, whom Suho had known as Yang Hee-jae—used to wear to work. The tie he wore until the very end. It was a solid navy tie with no pattern, the symbolic color of Free Electronics, called gamsek back then. Its sheen was so intense that by today’s standards, it felt undeniably old-fashioned.
At the time, he’d thought, This is Omega Dad’s keepsake. I need to treasure it. So he’d placed it inside a small, custom-made carry case from a luxury brand, tucked beneath the bedside table in his bedroom.
The only object through which he could remember his Omega father, Choi Juho, with affection—something that allowed him to trace even the faintest remnants of him.
Had his dad felt this way too? Locked away by his own father, raped in that house until the moment he gave birth to Suho…
Back then, Suho hadn’t understood that feeling—so intense that his father had abandoned a young child and vanished without a trace. But now, he finally understood.
It wasn’t any single thing. He hated everything. In a reality where the people who claimed to love him turned their backs on him, hadn’t the thought that if only I disappear, it will all end come to dominate his father’s mind?
If that was the case, then his father’s life was unbearably sad and bitter. It meant that no one had ever truly understood him.
Only after becoming his father did Suho finally understand—and realized how absurd it was to try to comfort him now, when everything was already gone, by tracing nothing but faded remnants.
I am the son of Jang Yuguk. And I am also the son of Choi Juho.
Yes. I am the proud son of Jang Yuguk, and also the son of Choi Juho, who lived hidden beneath the sunlight.
I inherited both their light and their darkness.
That’s why I’ve become this kind of trash, paying the price.
Disappearing as someone no one acknowledges… Receiving the most miserable punishment of all—being erased even from memory.
A dry, brittle smile tugged at Choi Suho’s lips as he opened the space beneath the bedside table. He pulled out the small carry case, custom-made exclusively at a luxury brand that specialized in such things, and entered the four-digit password.
With a soft click, it opened, revealing the neatly folded tie—its sheen now slightly dulled.
Carefully lifting it, Choi Suho stroked the tie from top to bottom as though caressing the face of his father, Choi Juho, who now lived only in his memories.
In the photograph, his father wore this tie and smiled like sunlight.
If my dad hadn’t touched Juho Dad, I wouldn’t have been born, and Juho Dad wouldn’t have died—he could’ve lived happily, right?
My maternal grandmother wouldn’t have died in prison, and the nanny wouldn’t have died in my place either…
“Hngh…”
Everyone had collapsed and died because I was born. Choi Suho couldn’t even bring himself to crush the tie in his grip. With trembling hands, he held it and swallowed his tears.
What am I supposed to do? If I really disappear from this world, will everything be resolved?
But… but at least one person… at least one person in this world must want me to live, right?
“I was wrong.”
Without realizing it, Choi Suho murmured in a voice rasped with metal as he stared up at the ceiling where the hook and chain were fixed.
“I was wrong, so…”
Clutching the tie in his hand, he screamed like someone begging another to please wish for his survival.
“I was wrong! I lived wrong! I was born wrong—because I was born…!”
This emptiness, where no one exists, is terrifying. It feels like it’s telling me to die. Like it’s screaming that I’m an unnecessary life, that trash like me deserves to die. It’s driving me insane.
Please—anyone—tell me it’s okay for me to live!
I was wrong, and I won’t do it again!
“I was wrong… I was wrong, so…”
Repeating the same words like a madman, Choi Suho forced his violently trembling body upright on the bed. The blackout curtains were drawn tight, making it impossible to tell whether it was morning or night. The chain had been arranged so that he could only reach the plastic water bottle placed on the bedside table. He had no idea what time it was, or how many days had passed.
A week? A month? He didn’t know.
All he remembered was that throughout this long stretch of time, no one had come looking for him—except Ji Haesu, who came only to rape him, over and over again, repeating the same words:
“Get pregnant, Suho. And then miscarry.”
Somewhere along the way, his mind had slowly been eaten away. He felt like he was losing his sanity. Every time Ji Haesu raped him, he apologized, saying, “I was wrong. I won’t do it again.” But Ji Haesu always answered coldly,
—There’s no such thing as turning over a new leaf.
—There is no redemption. Trash is trash in the end. You and I aren’t any different.
Those were Ji Haesu’s words—every single time.
“Then how the hell are we supposed to become spouses?!”
Standing on the bed, Choi Suho screamed into empty space.
“Even if you and I had a kid, that child would—”
At that moment, Choi Suho froze, blinking vacantly.
“That child would—”
—But if you and I have a child, let’s become different parents from ours. Good parents. Alone, it’s hard, but together, we can fix each other’s flaws and become decent parents. We can even get educated for it.
“That child would be trash too—”
Did Juho Dad think that way too, when he had me?
The thought sealed his mouth shut.
Choi Suho turned his red, swollen eyes—eyes raw from screaming and crying—around the room.
Why… why did Juho Dad insist on giving birth to me and then die? He could’ve just died together with me.
“Suho, you’ve finally come to your sen—”
The door flew open, and Ji Haesu entered with a bright smile—only to lock eyes with him. When Ji Haesu saw Choi Suho standing near the hook, holding the navy tie—Choi Juho’s keepsake—his face hardened instantly. Anyone would have taken him for someone about to commit suicide.
Ji Haesu dropped the groceries he was carrying, climbed onto the bed, and forcibly snatched the tie from Choi Suho’s hand.
“What the hell are you doing right now?”
Ah.
Choi Suho blinked slowly.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? You pull this kind of stunt and you call it nothing?”
Truly furious, Ji Haesu grabbed Choi Suho by the throat and slammed him down onto the bed. Choi Suho let out a choked gasp and thrashed. The chain connecting the hook and the dog collar clattered loudly. He struggled, shouting, “Let go of me!”—but with one leg broken, there was no way he could overpower Ji Haesu’s massive frame.
“You think you can forget the sins you committed and escape through suicide?”
Ji Haesu asked in a low voice, his hand still wrapped around Suho’s throat. Coughing violently, Choi Suho managed to speak.
“I wasn’t—”
“Don’t lie! What you were holding just now was something Choi Juho—!”
At that moment, Ji Haesu abruptly shut his mouth. His pupils trembled slightly before he turned his head away and released his grip on Suho’s neck. Choi Suho clutched his aching throat, coughing repeatedly as he pushed himself upright.
Fuck… semen was leaking from his ass. That sensation was disgusting no matter how many times he experienced it. Lowering his head, he stared at the bed—stained with semen and faint traces of blood—with warped eyes, when a sudden realization struck him.
Why Juho Dad chose suicide after giving birth to him.
And what Ji Haesu had been about to say while holding the tie.
Before he knew it, laughter burst out of him.
“Ha… hahahahaha! Hahahahahahaha!”
Clutching his swollen throat, Choi Suho laughed, then broke into a distorted sob—“Uh… hhh… hic, hhk”—burying his face into the bed and gripping the sheets tightly. Ji Haesu frowned as he watched Suho sob violently, both hands clutching the sheets.
“What the fuck is wrong with you now? You that desperate to die?”
Ah… I was an orphan from the moment I was born. I was just a child born to be used for Jang Yuguk’s revenge.
And Dad spent his entire life longing only for Choi Juho, until the day he died.
“Choi Suho!”
“Shut up!”
Choi Suho slapped away Ji Haesu’s hand as it grabbed his shoulder and yanked him. Ji Haesu stared at him with twisted eyes, taken aback by how fiercely Suho was rejecting him today.
“You dare reject me?”
Ji Haesu growled. Swallowing his tears, Choi Suho answered,
“I’ll do everything you want anyway, so wait. Just… let me cry for a bit. Okay? I need to… I need to…”
But then Ji Haesu pulled Choi Suho into a tight embrace from behind. No matter how much Suho struggled, resisted, or thrashed, Ji Haesu held him firmly against his chest—the chest he had bitten and sucked on—and even began patting him gently.
“It’s fine if you cry. Just don’t reject me. Do you have any idea how much I love you…?”
At those words, a figure that had been shrouded in thick fog inside his mind surfaced clearly.
—Suho, are you okay?
Whenever he’d been excluded from family matters and felt lonely and overwhelmed, Do Si-in would approach him, trying to comfort him. And every time, Suho would spit out cruel words.
—You, with your complete family, think you understand how hard things are for me just because you’re comforting me? Do you know that makes you a hypocrite?
—No, it’s because I love you… and…
Wounded, Do Si-in would hesitate for a long time—then finally gather the courage to grab Choi Suho’s hand and speak.
