After finishing a few phone calls, the medical team arrived and began asking Cheon Tae-seong a series of questions. In response, he gestured toward Ha-jin and said, “The guardian’s right here.”
Then, glaring at them, he ordered them to guide Ha-jin properly—as if speaking on his own behalf. For Ha-jin, who always felt small in the presence of medical professionals, it was an unfamiliar situation.
Thanks to that, Ha-jin was able to receive a detailed explanation of Yushin’s condition as though he were watching it unfold right in front of him. Even Tae-seong, whom he thought might leave halfway through, stayed by Ha-jin’s side until the end.
Even though it was dawn, professors from departments unrelated to Yushin’s illness stopped by one after another. From that, Ha-jin could tell that Cheon Tae-seong must have made significant donations to the hospital.
He’d never seen this many medical professionals move in sync all at once. Everything, from tests to receiving results, progressed with swift precision. In the past, even for the simplest of tests, waiting for hours was the norm—this kind of efficiency had been unimaginable.
As dawn approached, a small-framed woman appeared at the far end of the hallway where the elevators were. Before she even looked their way, Cheon Tae-seong was already striding toward her. As she took off her surgical cap, startled by his sudden appearance, she dropped it.
“What the—why are you here? You caused all that fuss over the phone, and now you’ve been waiting here this whole time?”
Cheon Tae-seong bent down to pick up her cap.
“Did you finish all the urgent surgeries?”
“Don’t you remember? ‘Chief Joo is busy, so how about you get lost?’ Weren’t you the one who rudely said that in front of your grandfather? But now that something’s up, here you are. Wow, how long has it been since you actually called me out to meet face-to-face?”
With a bright, clear face that carried no shadows, the small-framed woman looked up at Tae-seong and teased him in a way that didn’t quite match her appearance. Still, the fact that she came running without even changing out of her teal surgical scrubs after getting a call from him showed that she didn’t truly resent him.
“Joo Yoon-seo.”
“You should be calling me Noona, Tae-seong. Or at least Sunbae-nim, come on.”
“Whatever. Just… please, Chief Joo, you take care of Lee Yushin’s surgery. As soon as possible.”
“Even if you didn’t ask, he’s my patient. Don’t worry—I’ve got this.”
Though Tae-seong’s expression was cold and indifferent as he faced Joo Yoon-seo, even someone like Ha-jin—who knew nothing—could tell the two were very close. Childhood friends who knew everything about each other’s families. In other words, they’d crossed a line that made the word “friends” feel inadequate.
Joo Yoon-seo snatched the surgical cap from Tae-seong’s hand and walked past him, approaching Ha-jin.
“You must’ve been scared, Ha-jin-ssi. Aigoo, your face is half its normal size.”
“Professor… do you think Yushin will be okay?”
“Hmm. Right now, the priority is stabilizing him. He’s improving, so while that’s happening, I’ll go over the test results more thoroughly and prepare for surgery right away.”
She gently patted Ha-jin on the shoulder, carefully reading his expression.
“Please don’t worry too much. I’ll do everything I can. Not because of Tae-seong, alright?”
“…Yes. Thank you.”
When Ha-jin answered weakly, she gave him a flawless smile in return, then took Tae-seong by the arm and led him a bit farther away—they clearly had something to talk about.
Compared to his previous life, things were progressing at a shockingly fast pace. After Tae-seong started making calls, the hospital staff’s response completely shifted. Even so, Ha-jin couldn’t bring himself to feel truly relieved. The new timing of the disease’s worsening and the uncertain presence of the experimental drug still weighed on him.
Once all the priority tests were done without any delays, all that was left was to monitor Yushin until his condition allowed for surgery. Ha-jin reassured Kwak Mari and sent her home, then sat in a corner chair of the guardian waiting room.
Beyond the frosted glass, the ICU was filled with bustling medical personnel. On the monitor mounted to the wall of the waiting area, patients’ names and basic information were displayed. Ha-jin stared blankly at the three characters of his brother’s name: Lee Yushin.
In the corner of his vision, he saw Tae-seong and Joo Yoon-seo standing together at a distance. He only just now learned that Professor Joo was the daughter of the hospital’s director—and an old friend of Tae-seong’s.
I was so stupid…
He had only thought of Joo Yoon-seo as Yushin’s primary physician. It never crossed his mind that she might be personally connected to Cheon Tae-seong. Just then, he saw her casually place a hand on Tae-seong’s shoulder. Ha-jin let out a sigh.
In his past life, it was Joo Yoon-seo he had gone to in hopes of uncovering the truth about that drug. So it was only natural that it reached Tae-seong’s ears.
It would’ve been better if he’d told Tae-seong the truth first, directly. Instead, he ended up confessing his betrayal to one of the man’s closest friends.
Just how much must those kind and friendly two have hated him?
Ha-jin wanted to slam his head against a wall for his own stupidity. As he hugged his knees and buried his face between them, Tae-seong approached and quietly sat beside him.
“Doing that… you think it helps?”
The faint trace of perfume mixed with Tae-seong’s pheromones tormented Ha-jin. It was Joo Yoon-seo’s perfume. Though Omega pheromones couldn’t be detected by him, he imagined her scent would be something like this. It suited her so well, he had once thought it might be close.
Slowly, Ha-jin lifted his head, but his eyes still rested on his feet.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just… for everything. I’ll repay you. No matter how long it takes… I promise I’ll repay it all.”
Even without looking at him, he could feel Tae-seong’s gaze fixed on him. With a soft click of the tongue, Tae-seong spoke in a low voice.
“If I asked you to go get breakfast with me, you’d say no, wouldn’t you?”
“…”
Ha-jin stayed silent for a long moment, then whispered a tiny “Yes,” like a mosquito.
“Stay here, then.”
Leaving only that brief remark, Tae-seong walked off. About ten minutes later, he returned holding a paper bag. He shoved it into Ha-jin’s arms. When Ha-jin reluctantly opened it, he found a cream bun and a strawberry milk inside. Suddenly, his nose stung, and his eyes started to burn. He couldn’t stop it.
“You don’t like this kind of thing? It totally suits you, though.”
Ha-jin just shook his head hard without saying a word.
For some reason, Tae-seong found it difficult to sit next to Ha-jin. And that unfamiliar sensation made him furrow his brows.
While he stepped away to keep some distance, Ha-jin looked around, checking that no one was watching, then pulled his T-shirt up to roughly wipe his eyes. Seeing him sniffling and irritated, Tae-seong pulled out a handkerchief to offer—but before he could move, Ha-jin grabbed the brown napkin from inside the paper bag and hastily wiped his face with it.
“…”
Tae-seong clenched his jaw, his face flushing red with embarrassment.
***
The wide courtyard was bathed in spring sunlight. Dressed in shabby clothes with a towel around his neck, the one replanting trees was Chairman Cheon Han-jo himself. As he straightened his bent back and roughly wiped his sweat- and dirt-covered face, he saw a visitor from inside the mansion walking toward him.
“You and Soo-young had a good chat, I take it?”
“Yes, Father. Her complexion looks better every time I see her. It lifts my spirits, too.”
“I’m sure Soo-young appreciates the devotion of you coming by every morning.”
Chairman Cheon took the cold tea handed to him by a butler following behind. He offered it to his son-in-law as well, whose face was tight with discomfort—but the man declined. The suspicion that something might be in the drink was plain on his face, making the Chairman’s white eyebrows twitch.
“Executive Han, you’ve got a long road ahead before you can return to your position. I appreciate your daily efforts.”
With a chuckle, he added an empty platitude. Han Ki-taek clenched his molars behind a forced smile. Ever since Cheon Soo-young—Cheon Han-jo’s only daughter and Han Ki-taek’s wife—fell into a vegetative state following a suicide attempt, the Chairman hadn’t cast him out completely. Instead, he attached a condition.
“No one in this world must know that Soo-young is ill… You’ll come every morning to see my daughter. Greet her with sincerity. If you do, just like she said in her final letter, I’ll regard you as my own son and let you stay by her side.”
And so, for ten years now, he had been making this daily morning trip to Gangwon Province. Ten years—three thousand days. Long enough for even a beast to become human. Yet the old snake hadn’t allowed him even an inch closer, hiding behind flowery words.
The letter Cheon Han-jo claimed was just a note had clearly been a notarized will. But because Soo-young was technically still alive, Han Ki-taek couldn’t legally claim her shares. So he had no choice but to obediently follow the stubborn old man’s demands.
Han Ki-taek lifted the corners of his mouth and spoke to Cheon Han-jo.
“Leading the company well, just as Soo-young wanted… that’s all I have left to live for, Father.”
“Is that so? I was thinking it might be better for you to stay here and tend to Soo-young—help wash her hands and feet. Tae-seong is managing the company just fine, after all.”
Ha-ha, Han Ki-taek let out a good-natured laugh.
“Speaking of which, Father, Tae-seong recently proposed a revision to the compensation package. Have you heard about it?”
“Is that so?”
For the first time, Cheon Han-jo looked Han Ki-taek directly in the eye.
