“That’s right. It would be a problem. But why do you think I ended up like this, huh? If my parents were still alive, you think I’d be living like this?”
Hearing that, Yeon Yiseo swallowed hard. Jeremy kept going.
“I became an orphan because of you…! Go on, say it’s not true! Say it!”
Yeon Yiseo couldn’t answer. He just squeezed his eyes shut and bit down hard on his lower lip. Jeremy’s eyes looked bloodshot, as if they were burning red. His shoulders rose and fell violently with each breath. In the end, Yeon Yiseo raised the white flag.
“…Alright. Just stop. I’ll give you the money.”
That was all he could say.
Jeremy’s words turned into needles, piercing straight into his body. Jeremy’s near-screaming voice drew complaints from nearby neighbors telling them to shut up. Yeon Yiseo went to a nearby ATM, withdrew cash, and held it out. Jeremy snatched the money from his hand impatiently and counted it with twitchy movements.
“Yeah. That’s more like it. …What the hell, this is all?”
After checking the amount, Jeremy frowned deeply.
“That’s really all I have.”
Jeremy stared at Yeon Yiseo, then shook the wad of bills in his hand.
“This’ll do for today, but when payday comes around soon—you know what to do, right?”
“……”
When the dragging footsteps faded into the distance and finally disappeared, Yeon Yiseo moved again. He went inside, staring blankly at the familiar room. Light from outside filtered through the window—not pitch-black, but not bright enough to illuminate the space either. Still, he didn’t turn on the lights.
“Yiseo? Yeon Yiseo?”
“Yeon Yiseo.”
“Yiseo! That’s a nice name. I’m Jeremy! I’m a year older than you—you’re eleven, right? Think of me as your hyung. Want to have dinner at my place?”
A single scene from the past surfaced in his mind—once radiant, now turned to ash-gray. Golden sunlight. Fresh green leaves. And Jeremy, smiling without a trace of shadow, utterly different from the man he was now. Even his kind parents.
“……”
Memories only dug at old wounds.
Yeon Yiseo knew what Jeremy had gone through because of him. He had no intention of pretending otherwise. But how long was this supposed to continue? Did one of them have to die for it to finally end?
He knew this wasn’t the right direction. But Jeremy didn’t want any other kind of help. If it were support that could genuinely guide Jeremy toward something better, he’d give it willingly.
But this—this was a tunnel with no end in sight. A deep mire, dragging both Jeremy and Yeon Yiseo down together.
His chest felt tight. No matter how much he breathed, it felt like someone was gripping his throat. He let out deep sighs again and again, but the relief never lasted.
In that darkness, Yeon Yiseo sat slumped on the floor for a long time, feeling the throbbing pain at the corner of his mouth. Eventually, he went to the bathroom to check his face in the mirror.
His gaze stopped at the pale man staring back at him—at the torn skin at the left corner of his mouth. So that salty taste had been blood. Clicking his tongue softly, he took some ice from the freezer and put it into a plastic bag.
When was it that Jeremy had first laid a hand on him?
As he sighed and pressed the ice to his cheek, his phone rang.
Seo Eunwoo.
He stared at the ceiling, cleared his throat a couple of times, and answered.
“Yeah, Eunwoo.”
He tried to sound as bright as possible, but every time he spoke, pain pulsed through his mouth.
—Can you talk right now?
“I’m fine.”
Eunwoo’s voice didn’t sound hoarse like before. Maybe he was feeling better now.
“How are you feeling?”
—Mm, yeah. I’m okay. I wasn’t really in pain back then, just tired. But… were you eating something just now? It sounds like you’ve got something in your mouth.
It was probably because of the injury Jeremy had just caused.
“Really? I just got home from work.”
—That’s pretty late. Are you settling in well at Scott Industries?
“Yeah. Luckily, my coworkers are good people.”
—That’s good to hear.
Yeon Yiseo heard Eunwoo let out a quiet sigh.
“You sound exhausted. Something going on?”
—No. Work’s just been rough.
If work was exhausting enough to wear down even an extreme-dominant Alpha like Seo Eunwoo, it was hard to imagine how bad it must be.
—And on top of that, Sirius has been kind of…
“Hm?”
Yeon Yiseo prompted him, but Eunwoo brushed it off with a vague, “Mm, no, never mind.” His voice sounded unusually subdued—nothing like the Eunwoo Yeon Yiseo knew.
“What about Sirius? Did something happen?”
—It’s Ethan. Things are complicated right now. I’ll call you when things calm down a bit. Ah… there’s actually so much I want to ask you.
“Ethan? The CEO?”
When Yeon Yiseo asked, Eunwoo replied in an even gloomier tone.
—Something’s going on. I can’t reach him, and I haven’t even seen him. Because of that, I haven’t been able to see Sirius either.
It seemed Eunwoo didn’t know the exact reason either. Mid-sentence, as if realizing why Yeon Yiseo might be worried, he added:
—But, um, Yiseo—it’s not because of you. So don’t worry too much.
He could’ve just let it pass, but Eunwoo had keenly picked up on Yeon Yiseo’s unease and addressed it directly. The consideration made him grateful. He wanted to talk more, but he couldn’t keep a busy person tied up.
“Tell me about it when we meet next time.”
—…I really want to just quit everything.
Listening to Eunwoo grumble in such a depressed voice made Yeon Yiseo ache for him. If Eunwoo were standing in front of him, he might’ve patted his head and told him to rest.
“Hang in there.”
—Thanks. Talking to you helped me relax a bit, so I should get my head back in the game and work again.
After telling him not to overdo it, Yeon Yiseo ended the call. The faint smile that had lifted his lips during the conversation faded away. A bleak silence filled the space around him. Even the slightest movement made the corner of his mouth throb and sting, drawing a frown from him. Hoping it wouldn’t swell too badly, he resumed icing it.
***
No matter how he tried to explain it away, the place Jeremy had hit looked unmistakably like a bruise from being struck. Not even the cheek—right at the corner of the mouth.
But he couldn’t say he’d been hit.
Should he say his mouth tore while eating something big? It sounded pitiful, but nothing else came to mind.
“Ah… yeah, that happens. I once went to the dentist with a cut like that on my mouth. They told me if I postponed the appointment, I’d have to wait another month, so I didn’t have a choice. That must hurt. Did you put some medicine on it?”
The excuse he’d doubted would work passed easily when Ellie started sharing her own experience, brushing it off without much thought. Fortunately, the only people Yeon Yiseo really interacted with were a handful of secretaries; everyone else was just passing by. Curious glances were annoying, but easy enough to ignore.
He didn’t see Alexander every day either, so by the time they met again, the wound would probably have healed quite a bit. Trait-bearers recovered faster than Betas, after all.
That expectation shattered the moment he ran into Alexander at the end of the workday.
Alexander had been about to greet him warmly when he paused. Yeon Yiseo could tell his gaze had stopped at the corner of his mouth.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Good evening. Yeon Yiseo—how did you get that injury?”
As expected, he didn’t pretend not to notice and asked straight out. Yeon Yiseo gave an awkward smile and repeated the same excuse he’d used on his coworkers earlier.
“I had a small cut at the corner of my mouth, and it got worse while I was eating a baguette. It looks like I got hit, doesn’t it? I’ve been a bit troubled because of that.”
Alexander stared intently at Yeon Yiseo as he spoke with a smile. His eyes narrowed slightly—like he knew Yeon Yiseo was lying.
Of course, that was just Yeon Yiseo’s own interpretation.
“A baguette, huh. I see.”
Alexander murmured softly. Just as he seemed about to continue, Yeon Yiseo’s phone rang.
He checked the screen—it wasn’t who he expected. An unfamiliar number.
“Do you need to take it?”
“Huh? Ah… no. I can call back later.”
Once they took the elevator down, their paths would split anyway. It could be spam, so there was no urgency. As Yeon Yiseo slipped his phone into his pocket, he felt Alexander’s gaze resting on him. Then Alexander spoke quietly.
“Are you free this weekend? I have some time on Saturday. If it’s alright with you, how about coming to my place then?”
He hadn’t felt anything particularly wrong with his body yet, but it would be better to replenish beforehand. And there was no telling when Alexander would be free again.
“That works for me. Then should I come to your residence on Saturday?”
“Yes. What time would be convenient for you?”
Alexander was the busy one, yet he was the one asking Yeon Yiseo to choose. Yeon Yiseo said he’d adjust to Alexander’s schedule, but Alexander insisted it was fine and told him to pick whatever time was comfortable.
Did he really have nothing scheduled that Saturday?
