Even if the insult had been aimed at Hugo, it was Yeon Yiseo who had to hear it. Alexander’s attitude was no different from lumping the two of them together and cursing them both.
Or—was this Alexander’s way of insulting him indirectly? For once again carelessly letting another Alpha’s pheromones cling to him? For looking so foolishly defenseless in a situation that had happened more than once?
His thoughts raced ahead of him, widening the gap between him and the moment. He knew he needed to stop the spiral of rash, exaggerated conclusions, but it wasn’t easy. A heavy pressure started building in his chest.
Yeon Yiseo blinked a couple of times, unsure how to react. Just earlier, he’d been happy to run into Alexander by chance at work—but now he was having this kind of conversation with him? He’d never imagined it.
He wanted to clarify that he hadn’t intentionally let Hugo’s pheromones linger on him, but even saying that felt ridiculous. It wasn’t like he and Alexander were anything to each other. He had no reason—no standing—to explain himself to him.
“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say things like that.”
The words barely made it out of his mouth, and even to his own ears, his tone sounded stiff. Maybe it was because Alexander had come at him so sharply—Yeon Yiseo’s own defenses had kicked in.
Was Alexander not expecting that response? The atmosphere around him grew noticeably colder.
“Understood. I’ll watch my words.”
It sounded like he was admitting fault, but Yeon Yiseo couldn’t take it at face value. Not because he was being petty—Alexander’s tone made it feel like he was being sarcastic.
But that was just his personal impression. In the end, Alexander was his superior, and regardless of his true feelings, he had made the first move to apologize. So Yeon Yiseo had to respond in kind.
I’m the one who should apologize. Please forgive me with your generous understanding.
The proper words of apology floated into his mind, but he couldn’t say them out loud. If he opened his mouth, something thick and knotted might come pouring out. He opened and closed his lips soundlessly.
Alexander’s expression didn’t soften. At the same time, memories from yesterday—what had happened with Hugo, and how Jeremy had run off with this month’s rent—came crashing down on him all at once.
He didn’t know what to call the emotion that struck him. Why did these things keep happening to him? What exactly had he done so wrong? It felt far too cruel to chalk up to simple bad luck.
The storm of emotions raged inside him, but he had to endure it. He was an adult. Complaining wouldn’t change anything. So all he could do was endure.
Unconsciously, Yeon Yiseo bit down hard on the inside of his cheek.
“Yeon Yiseo. Alright. I went too far.”
“…?”
Yeon Yiseo didn’t understand what Alexander meant at first. Then Alexander reached out, lifting Yeon Yiseo’s chin so he had to look up. He didn’t even blink as he stared into Alexander’s eyes. The sharpness that had laced Alexander’s voice earlier had vanished.
“Don’t bite so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. …Open your mouth a little.”
His voice and demeanor had returned to the Alexander Yeon Yiseo was familiar with. When his thumb tapped lightly on Yeon Yiseo’s lips, like knocking on a door, Yeon Yiseo instinctively parted them slightly.
“Good. There’s no need to hold it in that much.”
Alexander didn’t actually check inside his mouth. It seemed his only goal was to keep Yeon Yiseo from biting himself again.
He was just telling him not to bite, but to Yeon Yiseo, it felt like Alexander was talking about his whole approach to life. Like he was saying, Don’t push yourself so hard. I know you’re already at your limit.
Worried that his breath might catch, Yeon Yiseo shut his mouth again. Alexander clicked his tongue and shook his head gently before lightly brushing his thumb over his lips once more.
That alone made it clear—he didn’t want Yeon Yiseo closing his mouth again. Like he was watching in case he clamped his teeth down again. It made Yeon Yiseo feel a little self-conscious—did he really seem that unreliable?
“I won’t bite anymore.”
“I know.”
Even so, Alexander would probably do the same thing all over again if Yeon Yiseo closed his mouth like that once more.
“You’re a bit damp. Are you cold?”
He asked the question while watching him closely. It was an ordinary question, but Alexander now seemed completely back to his usual self. Yeon Yiseo didn’t answer right away. He sniffled softly and inhaled through his nose before replying.
“Not especially.”
“I see.”
Acknowledging that, Alexander took a long moment to study Yeon Yiseo’s expression before finally speaking again.
“I was worried you might cry.”
“…Me? I’m not really the crying type.”
“Really? I feel like I’ve seen you cry plenty of times.”
“What? When did I ever cry…?”
Yeon Yiseo abruptly stopped talking, realizing what times Alexander was referring to. His face flushed with heat.
“That—that doesn’t count as crying, exactly. I mean, I guess technically it is, but… I don’t think it’s something you should say out loud like that.”
“But isn’t it the truth?”
Alexander tilted his head as he replied, and Yeon Yiseo couldn’t find the words to respond. His face was burning, and all he could do was blink rapidly. He desperately wanted to escape Alexander’s direct gaze. That desperation made him ask something he wouldn’t normally have dared to.
“Are you feeling better now?”
“…My mood?”
“…It just seemed like you were upset earlier.”
“Me…?”
Alexander looked surprised, like that hadn’t even occurred to him. Yeon Yiseo quickly added on.
“If I was wrong, that’s fine. I must’ve been overthinking it.”
“No, it’s not that. …I see. That’s how I came across, huh. Angry, was I…”
His voice drifted off like he was speaking to himself, and Yeon Yiseo panicked, thinking he’d said something he shouldn’t have. Just then, a yawn snuck up on him. Maybe it was because his body had finally relaxed a little. He couldn’t control physiological urges, but why did it have to come now, of all times?
He turned his head to the side and bent down slightly, trying to suppress the yawn, then straightened his posture again. He’d tried to play it off naturally, but the tears that welled up from yawning were impossible to hide. As he blinked them away quickly, Alexander watched him in silence.
“…Are you that tired? How little sleep did you get? Don’t tell me you forgot you had work today.”
Alexander’s voice had taken on a tone so gentle, it almost sounded like he was cooing at him. But his words hit the sore spot directly.
He was right—it was a failure of self-management. No excuse could cover that. But anyone in Yeon Yiseo’s position would’ve had trouble sleeping last night. Still, he didn’t want to start explaining himself with some long sob story.
“…Not that little…”
But mid-sentence, another yawn forced its way out, this one completely unfiltered. Total defeat. He figured he’d just brush over the reason with a vague explanation. Hopefully Alexander wouldn’t press him for details—but he was nervous that he might.
“There was just… something on my mind. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t think I’d make it on time, so I came in early just in case… I’ll be fine. A bit of coffee, and I can work normally.”
“Something on your mind?”
Alexander had latched onto a part Yeon Yiseo hadn’t expected him to.
“Yes. That’s all, really…”
“Not because of anything else?”
“Anything else?”
At Yeon Yiseo’s answer, Alexander let out a low, soft breath.
“…What is it? Is there some problem?”
“No. No problem.”
Yeon Yiseo couldn’t read his reaction. Alexander stared into empty space for a moment before refocusing on him.
“What happened that kept you up all night?”
“Um… It’s fine now. It’s been taken care of.”
That was a lie. He didn’t want to tell Alexander about his situation.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It’s all sorted out.”
Alexander asked again, as if to confirm, and Yeon Yiseo nodded. Apparently, he had no intention of digging deeper. “I see. That’s good to hear,” he said. It seemed like the conversation would end there—but then Alexander offered something unexpected.
“There’s a bed in the back of my office. Why don’t you go lie down for a while?”
To be honest, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t tempted. He did want to sleep—at least until regular office hours began. But if he fell into a deep sleep, he doubted he’d wake up for several hours.
More than that—what if someone saw him coming out of the CEO’s office? He wasn’t even working on anything important enough to warrant a private meeting with Alexander. What would people think if they saw him leaving the CEO’s office this early in the day?
“No, I’m okay. I’ll just nap in my office chair.”
“If you’re worried about showing up late, you can take the day off. I’ll wake you up in time for the end of the workday.”
“I can’t do that. It’s not possible, anyway.”
Yeon Yiseo waved his hands in protest. Alexander chuckled softly, amused by the reaction.
