The car turned smoothly onto the road. The people inside were exactly as Ha-jin expected. In the driver’s seat sat Choi, who had driven all of Cheon Tae-seong’s cars. The passenger seat was empty.
Before getting in, Ha-jin had seen several black sedans tailing them. Kim Dae-hong was probably riding in one of those.
The only difference was his own seat. Normally, he would’ve sat in the passenger seat. What was with this sudden change?
As Ha-jin organized his thoughts, his gaze flicked back to Cheon Tae-seong.
“Did you get discharged this morning?”
“Yeah.”
He answered readily, shutting his laptop and rubbing his eyes with both hands. He looked exhausted.
“I’m busy. If you hadn’t left work yesterday, I could’ve saved more time.”
“……”
Ha-jin was too dumbfounded to reply. Slipping out of the hospital before even the staff’s shift had started was what was strange—not something that wasted time.
And the whole not leaving work thing… Ha-jin automatically recalled the ridiculous demand he’d heard the day before.
“Don’t go home after work.”
“That’s not happening.”
“I know. I was joking.”
Of course, it hadn’t been a joke. Good thing he’d rejected it flat-out. If he’d even hesitated for a second, this man would’ve seriously started talking about something like a “live-in pheromone manager” or a “24/7 on-call manager.”
He turned his head toward the window. The city flashed by, bathed in the morning sun. Compared to rush hour traffic that crawled like a turtle, it was hard to believe this was the same day.
Was it really okay to get swept along like this by Cheon Tae-seong…?
Then, Tae-seong suddenly spoke.
“By the way.”
Ha-jin stopped looking out the window and turned to him again. Tae-seong’s brown eyes, full of sunlight, stared straight at him.
“Aren’t you gonna ask where we’re going?”
…Ah.
“We’re not headed to the office?”
Tae-seong just stared silently, the pause stretching. Ha-jin had quickly deflected the question with another, feigning ignorance, and thought he’d pulled it off—but as Tae-seong’s smile grew, he began to feel tense.
Truthfully, he’d already guessed. The first business trip they’d taken together, back when he was managing Tae-seong’s pheromones, had been right around this time of year. The memory was as clear as if it had happened yesterday.
As soon as the car left the neighborhood and merged onto a road outside the city, Ha-jin figured it out. The timing of his rut had changed, and now he had that head injury too, so it made sense the trip schedule might have shifted. It was predictable enough.
But that was just Ha-jin’s perspective. From Tae-seong’s point of view, it made perfect sense to find his silence strange. Most people would ask where they were going and what was going on.
So Tae-seong’s question was inevitable. Not because he suspected something like time regression.
There was no reason to be scared.
Watching Ha-jin tense up, Tae-seong gave a soft hum.
“You really are bad with directions, huh? We’re heading in the complete opposite direction from the office.”
“Oh… then, where are we going?”
Ha-jin carefully wiped the awkward look off his face. Lying and pretending were never easy.
Even after living through a year of this repeated world, when he was beside Cheon Tae-seong, he always ended up feeling like a fool. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t make assumptions and would respond flexibly—but the man kept throwing curveballs, and he kept getting knocked off balance.
While waiting for an answer, Ha-jin forced a polite smile.
Then Tae-seong pulled out a bottle of pills from his coat.
The same meds I saw at the hospital yesterday…
Pheromone imbalance medication, wasn’t it? Plus a heavy dose of sleeping pills. On the weekend, he’d even had symptoms of arrhythmia from taking too many. That’s why he’d been in such a state Monday morning.
Tae-seong had shown him the pill bottles along with a new contract.
This wasn’t the man he used to know. Carrying around a handful of prescription meds like it was nothing—it really did make him look seriously unwell.
Ignoring Ha-jin’s gaze, Tae-seong calmly pointed out clauses in the contract with neat fingers, explaining everything in a flat, composed tone. Urging him to re-sign.
“Ha-jin, I need you.”
Saying he needed him—while holding out that bottle of meds—left Ha-jin completely confused.
“…Actually, I haven’t been feeling well.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You saw my fever, right? My pheromones are out of whack, but I don’t know why.”
That uncertainty hit Ha-jin like a punch to the chest. Was he taking something weird? Worried, he picked up the pill bottles one by one and checked the contents. Fortunately, he didn’t see any of the dangerous stuff he knew about, but his mind still felt muddled.
Tae-seong waited patiently until Ha-jin looked back at him, then delivered the finishing blow.
“But having a pheromone manager seems to help. When you’re around, I get better.:
“……”
“So keep doing it, Ha-jin. Be my manager.”
The car climbed onto an overpass, and sunlight flooded the interior. Tae-seong tilted the bottle and dumped the pills into his palm.
“A sick CEO going on a business trip. Isn’t that tragic?”
“Ah… yes…”
With Ha-jin’s sympathetic gaze on him, Tae-seong popped the pills into his mouth just like he had the night before.
Half of it was real discomfort, like something ached in his chest. The other half was the desire to shake Ha-jin up emotionally. You’d still go home after seeing me like this? Even now?
For those two years they’d worked together, Ha-jin had been fiercely loyal. Tae-seong wanted that same loyalty again.
He wasn’t sure if things had changed because time had rewound, or if it was the same as before but his imprinting had made him more clingy.
After swallowing the pills and putting away the bottle, Ha-jin finally looked away. His posture had gone completely stiff, like a soldier at attention, which secretly amused Tae-seong.
Did he make those faces in our last life, too?
Back then, Ha-jin had followed him around like air, so he’d never paid much attention. Now it all felt new.
As he released a subtle burst of pheromones toward Ha-jin, Tae-seong suddenly felt suffocated. He rolled down the window.
The loud flapping of wind messed up his hair, but it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. Even after loosening his tie, the air still felt thin.
Was it the overuse of deodorant? The lingering scent of his younger brother’s pheromones? Or maybe something else?
Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Ha-jin squirming awkwardly beside him. That’s how damn persistent this imprinting thing was.
“……Should I…”
Just then, Ha-jin’s fingertips tapped the back of Tae-seong’s hand.
“Should I hold your hand?”
He added in a whisper, before Tae-seong could even open his eyes,
“You seemed to be trembling a little…”
Tae-seong turned his hand over on the armrest, silently prompting him.
“Go ahead.”
Why offer and then hesitate?
With his eyes barely open, he watched Ha-jin fumble, staring at his hand.
“Come on.”
Ha-jin’s hand crept up hesitantly. He’d expected it to be a lot smaller, but it wasn’t. The palm was small, but his fingers were long—only about a knuckle shorter than his own.
Tae-seong grabbed the four fingers awkwardly reaching out, spread them apart, and shoved his own fingers through, lacing them tightly.
Ha-jin flinched so hard it felt like his whole body jumped. Tae-seong closed his eyes and muttered casually,
“Is this supposed to help? Doesn’t feel like it.”
“Ru…”
The gulping sound of Ha-jin swallowing made Tae-seong smirk internally.
“If a client in rut doesn’t stabilize easily… we sometimes use this method. It does help.”
The smirk vanished from Tae-seong’s face.
“I’ve never heard of that method before.”
“It’s true. If you’re skeptical, you can ask my boss. And why would I lie about something like this?”
“……”
“Plus, I asked first… and you told me to hold your hand.”
Ha-jin’s voice even sounded a bit resentful.
The new contract included clauses stating that Cheon Tae-seong’s preferences would be considered in how his pheromones were managed. Ha-jin had simply followed procedure—he’d asked, gotten an answer, and acted on it.
Then why was he getting that look?
Should he say more to defend himself? While he hesitated, Tae-seong abruptly turned his head away like he was done with the conversation.
Was he uncomfortable holding hands? Ha-jin tried to slip his hand away, but Tae-seong gripped harder, his fingers pressing so tight it almost hurt.
What the hell? What’s your problem?
Ha-jin had no idea why Tae-seong had suddenly gone cold.
They were just holding hands—no, he was the one being held—and yet sweat had begun to pool beneath his thighs.
Was the seat warmer on? He glanced down, but the indicator light was off.
The weather wasn’t even that hot. Still, he was starting to stiffen up, and his shirt clung warmer and warmer to his skin.
“Man, you fidget a lot.”
Though the tone had a hint of amusement, Tae-seong’s face was icy.
Sitting there like he was on pins and needles, Ha-jin silently rewrote the notes in his mental work log.
Cheon Tae-seong was no longer a calm, easy-to-work-with client.
He was a volatile, moody teenager in the body of a man— a bizarre, unpredictable client like no other.
