Chapter 43
Receiving no answer, Do-heon changed his question.
“I guess… something like that. It’s fun too.”
“Why not try a business in food service or fashion instead?”
When Cheong-yeon responded halfheartedly, Do-heon made an unexpected suggestion.
“If you find it stifling to just stay at home, I can create another position for you. Something that gets adequate media attention but requires less effort.”
So that’s what he was getting at. It seemed Do-heon had concluded that Cheong-yeon wanted to be an actor simply because he needed people’s attention and recognition. Moreover, he appeared convinced that Cheong-yeon would return to him anytime if the conditions were right. The fact that he was still saying such nonsensical things…
“Of course, to run a business, you’d need to be especially careful with your pheromones, but we can think about that later.”
“……”
What does he mean by “think about that later”? I have no intention of considering it.
Cheong-yeon’s expression hardened coldly as he listened to Do-heon. Besides, the pheromone issue wasn’t about him being unable to control them and spreading them everywhere—it was just particularly difficult to regulate them in front of Do-heon. He had vaguely suspected this before, but it became clearer after separating from him.
Cheong-yeon considered correcting him but then decided against it. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. From Do-heon’s perspective, he might interpret it as blaming him.
Lost in thought, Cheong-yeon finally spoke in the calmest voice he could manage.
“You still want me to come back home?”
“Otherwise, why would I be taking the time to sit here eating with you?”
Do-heon spoke as if stating the obvious. In a very unpleasant way.
Yes, this is so like Moon Do-heon. The arrogant tone, the perfectly straight posture with his chin tucked in without a hint of slouching. It was truly his typical way of communicating.
His attitude was so haughty that anyone watching might mistake Cheong-yeon for someone who had desperately begged to have a meal together and been dragged here.
Cheong-yeon suddenly recalled how Do-heon had mentioned last time that he still felt guilty about his uncle. It occurred to him that from Do-heon’s perspective, he might consider it as having exchanged his uncle’s life for his own.
It was half true, but Cheong-yeon had no desire to blame Do-heon for the accident in America. After all, it was his uncle’s choice, and no one could have foreseen it.
“If you’re doing this because of the promise you made to Uncle… you don’t need to be bound by that deathbed wish. I was the one who asked for the divorce first.”
Feeling his mouth go dry, Cheong-yeon picked up his water glass to moisten his throat.
“It’s a bitter truth, but I can’t have children anyway…”
“……”
“I’m sorry for making your marriage a failure. I knew you wanted children, so it’s even more… Looking at how things turned out, I guess it wasn’t my place from the beginning.”
“Regarding the children issue, I’ve been thinking about it.”
Do-heon said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“If pregnancy doesn’t happen after a few more years of treatment, we can find another way then.”
At this misaligned response, Cheong-yeon raised his head to meet his eyes.
“Another way?”
“It’s not like you have to be the one to give birth to the child.”
He couldn’t believe it. Cheong-yeon doubted his ears.
“…You mean someone else would bear your child?”
“I’m saying such technical means exist.”
Do-heon explained in the most plain tone. His voice was devoid of any emotion, as if he were explaining how to operate a machine.
What did I just hear? Cheong-yeon looked him up and down with an incredulous expression.
Marry Yoo Cheong-yeon but have a child from another Omega?
It was an idea so shocking it left him speechless. It was no different from Do-heon declaring he would repeat the same mistake as Chairman Moon, despite having suffered emotionally due to his congenital defect.
“You’d be okay with putting a child in the exact same situation as you? Are you crazy? Or are you drunk?”
“Can’t you interpret it as me wanting you back badly enough to go to such lengths?”
Why is he going this far? Cheong-yeon tried to calm his excitement and carefully examined Do-heon’s expression, trying to read his thoughts.
But no emotion leaked out from anywhere. As usual, he just stared back at Cheong-yeon with completely insensitive eyes.
Perhaps Do-heon didn’t want to accept that his marriage had failed. After all, it was a marriage opposed by his entire family, and everyone had been watching with bated breath, betting on when he would divorce a worthless Recessive Omega like him. His pride was too strong to prove right those who had mocked and cursed their marriage.
“You’re asking me to raise a child born by someone else?”
“I never said that. If you don’t want to see the child, it can be raised elsewhere.”
“…Like you, Moon Do-heon?”
At Cheong-yeon’s question, Do-heon leaned back against his chair. Then he slowly nodded.
“Yes. Like me.”
There wasn’t a trace of hesitation in his brief series of movements. Even his voice was cynical. As if he were talking about someone else, not himself.
Cheong-yeon looked directly at him without avoiding his gaze. Somehow, he felt chills looking into Do-heon’s black eyes that didn’t let in a single point of light.
“……”
“……”
A heavy silence fell between them. At the same time, all sorts of complex information about the man called Moon Do-heon unfolded in Cheong-yeon’s mind.
Yes. He had grown up under a birth mother who would abandon her child for money, and overnight became a wealthy family’s heir only to be discarded by his birth mother. Like some kind of barter.
And the students from the same school who had bullied him during his school days began to act sweetly toward him as soon as his circumstances changed, as if they had never rejected him.
The logic that money could buy even a child was, from his perspective, quite a reasonable proposition.
But Cheong-yeon’s thoughts were different. He knew it was a wrong set of values. While he felt chills at Do-heon’s twisted thinking, he also felt a strong sense of rejection.
If he returned to his side, he would probably have to endure more conflicts than before. He had no desire to return to him, to willingly hurt himself again when the past wounds hadn’t even fully healed.
Cheong-yeon wanted to escape from this circular relationship that inevitably brought pain.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Now… I need to go.”
Cheong-yeon slowly rose from his seat. Sitting across from him for so long had made the gloomy emotions he had barely erased start to revive.
As he was about to pass by Do-heon and leave the restaurant, Cheong-yeon paused for a moment, looking at the plate and menu in front of him. Of all places, he had to bring him to a restaurant full of seafood.
Suddenly, he felt irritated about something he had brushed off until just moments ago.
“And you asked why I wasn’t eating. I have a shellfish allergy.”
“Since when?”
A faint crease appeared between Do-heon’s brows. He tilted his head slightly and looked up at Cheong-yeon. His face suggested this was the first time he was hearing about it.
I knew it. Cheong-yeon smirked, as if he had expected this.
“Probably since I was about five years old.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“Well, you didn’t care enough to know, did you?”
Cheong-yeon turned away, overwhelmed by fatigue.
“Wait. I’ll take you home.”
Seeing Cheong-yeon heading toward the exit, Do-heon also stood up.
“No thanks, it would be uncomfortable.”
Before he could add anything more, Cheong-yeon hurriedly left the restaurant. The saying that people don’t change was right. He hadn’t expected anything from Do-heon, but beyond that, Do-heon was consistently incompatible with him.
As he inhaled the damp outside air, his chest, which had felt constricted, finally seemed to open up a little.
Although the unfinished affairs of the afternoon were still disturbing his nerves, Cheong-yeon headed home, deliberately ignoring the problems. He didn’t want to think about anything right now.
*
The atmosphere in Cheong-yeon’s agency office was heavier than ever. There had been a summons from Kim Kyung-seop since morning, and anyway, he had to deal with yesterday’s missed filming, so Cheong-yeon had rushed out as soon as he woke up.
“I’ve heard roughly about what happened yesterday. The script content was… about you and Director Moon Do-heon?”
Cheong-yeon nodded slightly. Kim Kyung-seop roughly ran both hands through his hair. He was expressing his anxious state with his whole body, rubbing his eyes and sighing. After a long pause, he continued.
“Huh. First of all, I didn’t know it was that kind of role either. You found out only when you got to the location. Anyway, it must have been shocking.”
Judging by his expression, he too seemed to have genuinely known nothing about it.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
