Haa, haa—panting breaths filled the space. Ha-jin glanced down at himself. Even though Tae-seong’s thigh was pressing against him, the swelling in his groin was unmistakable.
He looked up. Cheon Tae-seong’s gaze was still fixed on his lips, and maybe that was why they felt like they were burning.
“Am… am I releasing pheromones right now?”
Tae-seong pressed a finger to Ha-jin’s swollen bottom lip. When Ha-jin tilted his head away to dodge his advance, Tae-seong chuckled low and pressed a kiss just beneath his ear.
“I wish you were… but no.”
His voice was thick with arousal. No? Ha-jin’s eyes widened, and he shoved Tae-seong back with both hands. The man let himself be pushed away easily, and Ha-jin wiped his wet lips as he stumbled forward, groin still half-hard, on shaky legs. His eyes stung with tears.
He flung the powder room door open and dashed out. Thankfully, the staff seemed distracted by other things.
Ha-jin yanked his outer coat down to hide himself and hobbled toward the parking garage. The waiting driver gave him a puzzled look, but there was no time to explain.
As soon as he yanked open the back seat door, he dug through his bag, pulled out the pheromone detector, and jabbed his finger. The seconds it took for the result to show felt agonizingly long. His heart was pounding, and his fingers wouldn’t stop trembling.
“You didn’t believe me?”
The moment the numbers appeared on the device, Tae-seong’s voice rang out from behind. Ha-jin turned to find him standing there, looking down with an unreadable expression.
“Why would I lie to you?”
“I didn’t think you were lying. It’s just… it felt weird, so I…”
“Ha-jin.”
Tae-seong reached out and stroked the tip of his eyebrow with a long finger. His brows furrowed, as if trying to recall something indescribable, and he wet his dry lips.
“Believe me when I say, a heat doesn’t feel like that.”
Ha-jin sat down heavily, gathering up the spilled contents from his seat. The wind slipped easily through the ripped hole in his jeans at the knee. Only then did he realize just how much cold sweat he’d been drenched in.
If it wasn’t pheromones… then what the hell was that?
Now that the rush was over, a wave of emptiness crashed over him. And with it came a question he’d been trying to avoid: What is it that I actually want?
The way he was acting… he looked like someone who’d been longing for this, desperately.
“Ha-jin, are you sure you’re not just into me?”
You’ve totally fallen for me, Tae-seong teased with a smile, a joke dropped casually onto Ha-jin’s confused head.
Ha-jin couldn’t even force a polite smile. He just stared up at him, dazed.
***
“Aigo… that poor thing.”
The sigh in Oh San-daek’s voice carried sorrow as she returned from feeding the dog. Her endless tsk-tsk-tsks were so loud that Chairman Cheon Han-jo could no longer ignore them and finally lowered his newspaper.
“What’s with all the racket? You’re going to scare the luck away.”
“No, it’s just…”
She flinched and bit her lip, glancing at him nervously. When she saw him putting down his half-moon glasses and neatly folding the paper, she realized he was waiting for her to speak. Mustering her courage, she sat down on the edge of the sofa.
“Sir…”
Even though he’d been chairman for years, she still called him “President” out of habit. And yet, she remained one of the few people who ever received a warm look from him. She wiped her wet hands on her apron and continued.
“Can’t we stop calling Ki-taek over? Just… let him be.”
“What are you talking about? Who’s tormenting who?”
“I just… every time Ki-taek comes here…”
She hesitated, and Han-jo tilted his head back and closed his eyes—a familiar gesture that meant his blood pressure was rising. Get to the damn point, his expression seemed to shout.
But Oh San-daek’s words wouldn’t come easily. She had wrestled with herself for years over whether to even bring this up.
“God, my dreams are cursed these days. I feel like I’m going insane.”
“What is it?”
“…You remember those puppies Duk-soon had? You said they were cute, remember? Just in passing.”
“That dog who dug a hole under the back fence and gave birth back there?”
“Yes… Duk-soon had four, but one of them—you know the one with the big spot near its eye? The one that was always bouncing around… Ah, it breaks my heart. What do we do, sir? It’s just so sad.”
“Speak clearly, would you?”
“That tiny thing… What could it have possibly done to deserve being hurt like that?”
From the sound of it, one of the puppies had died. But with all this beating around the bush, Chairman Cheon’s patience was nearing its end. He shot her a piercing glare.
“What the hell does that have to do with Han Ki-taek? What kind of creepy nonsense are you spouting? Do you even hear yourself?”
“I—I didn’t mean to say it like that!”
Oh San-daek’s face crumpled into tears. Her hands were calloused from decades of managing someone else’s household, but her heart had remained tender.
It had all started out innocently enough.
Han Ki-taek came by every morning to greet Cheon Soo-young, and afterwards would step out to the backyard to smoke a cigarette. Working in the back of the first floor, she often saw him from the window—sometimes just standing there, sometimes cursing under his breath, “Fuck, fuck,” or violently kicking at the ground.
Then one day after he left, she found the small vegetable patch she’d been tending flattened. The fresh green sprouts and leaves were trampled into a mess—as if someone had stomped on them with all their strength.
It became clear this wasn’t a one-off. His temperament only grew crueler. One day he stepped on a chick and killed it. Another time, he threw rocks at a cat resting by the garden wall.
Every time she saw those acts of cruelty, her insides churned. But in front of Han Ki-taek, she couldn’t say a word.
Even though more things happened, she told herself it wasn’t her place to meddle in her employer’s affairs. Han-jo’s hatred for Han Ki-taek ran so deep it made it even harder to speak.
Eventually, she started guarding the backyard every time Ki-taek visited, standing there in fear. And every time, his gaze—glinting with something ugly—left her feeling unnerved the rest of the morning.
But when she couldn’t be there, something always happened. So she endured it. She bore it.
That’s why the death of the spotted puppy felt like her fault. It had been so lively, but two days ago it started to weaken and eventually died. Two days ago—she remembered—the soup she’d left boiling had spilled over, and she hadn’t made it out to the yard in time.
Now all she could do was cry, unable to say it outright. Han-jo silently watched her, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it to her before getting to his feet.
He slipped on his rubber shoes and strode out across the wide backyard. His expression was as stern as ever, but the direction of his steps meant he wasn’t ignoring what she’d said.
He didn’t need to ask where to go. He already knew where Duk-soon came in to get food and play with her pups, and where Oh San-daek had built their little shelter.
There she was, curled around the limp body of her pup, licking it over and over. The food left for her hadn’t been touched.
The puppy had clearly been killed by human hands, yet Duk-soon’s eyes were still gentle. Even as Han-jo reached out and touched the dead pup, she only looked up at him with those dark, trusting eyes.
Flames sparked in Han-jo’s eyes.
“That goddamn bastard… lower than a beast…”
Seething with rage, he fumbled inside his vest for his phone—but he’d forgotten where he put it. Age was catching up with him, and his memory had begun to slip.
Storming back inside, he found Oh San-daek pacing nervously. She was holding his phone with both hands. Han-jo pressed his forehead and motioned with his fingers.
“Give it here.”
“No, sir, please. Just think it through for a moment. I shouldn’t have said anything…”
“Give it to me now.”
“Do you really think Ki-taek would admit it? All it’ll do is tarnish your name. Please, calm down. Let the anger pass. If you talk to him with a level head…”
Her pleading made Han-jo inhale deeply. Then again. And again.
The two elders stood facing each other in tense silence for about five minutes.
Then—the front door rattled open with a harsh clatter. In walked Cheon Tae-seong, dressed in a sharp suit.
“When are you finally going to fix this damn door? You’ve got the money…”
“Tae-seong!”
“Young master!”
The two of them rushed into his arms like sorrowful children.
