Cheon Han-jo’s mansion was steeped in a heavy, oppressive gloom.
The lights had been turned on brightly from the mansion all the way through the garden, as if trying to drive away the darkness of dawn, but the air remained dim and foreboding. In the stillness, only the occasional sound of Oh San-daek sniffling could be heard.
Tae-seong sat in the study, as still as a statue. His fingers were interlaced and resting on his knees, and from time to time, he glanced up at the wall clock, like someone quietly waiting for the appointed moment.
His thoughts, which had been tangled and chaotic during the car ride over, had long since settled into perfect clarity. The hammer was ready to fall, and there wasn’t even a trace of hesitation left in his heart. There had been a time when he’d been consumed by the desire to know every last detail, but now, all he wished for was a clean incineration.
That was when Cheon Han-jo entered the study and slumped into the sofa. His expression and movements both betrayed how thoroughly exhausted he was.
“What’s with all the commotion outside? Did you really have to let that damn prosecutor butt in now, of all times?”
The old man’s face was still flushed, likely from the alcohol he’d drunk in the excitement of believing his daughter was recovering. His shoulders had drooped so much it looked like he’d shrunk in height, aged years in just a single day.
“I’m already at death’s door. Must you be like this too?”
When Tae-seong calmly raised his gaze, Cheon Han-jo’s voice grew sharper. He left his seat at the desk and moved to sit beside his grandfather, and a disapproving glare immediately shot toward his cheek like a knife.
“Have you decided what to do about Mother?”
Tae-seong’s voice was icy cold, unyielding in his stance to terminate life-sustaining treatment.
“Tell that damn Prosecutor Jung to get lost first. This is a family matter.”
Cheon Han-jo cut off Tae-seong’s question mid-sentence and barked out his order. As if he couldn’t believe he was having this kind of conversation with his grandson at a time when his daughter’s condition had suddenly worsened, his deeply wrinkled face contorted, and his breathing grew labored.
Tae-seong sat in silence, waiting for Cheon Han-jo to calm down. Several times, the old man ran his hand over his flushed face, trying to cool his simmering fury. When he finally spoke again, his face was a degree more composed.
“What I’ve built up… I’m not saying this because it matters more than anything else. I mean it when I say it’s all yours anyway. So why go this far?”
“This is something that should’ve been done a long time ago.”
If it had been settled ten years earlier, perhaps Ha-jin wouldn’t have had to die.
“It’s because of that boy, isn’t it?”
“……Yes. It’s true that he gave me both the reason and the courage.”
“You’re telling me that even with your mother lying there like that, you’ve let some man blind you to the point of handling things this emotionally? Do you even understand how much you’re going to lose?”
“I do.”
“I’m telling you, Tae-seong—you don’t.”
“You always told me, didn’t you? To value people above all else.”
Cheon Han-jo, who hadn’t expected his usual lectures to be thrown back at him this way, fell silent. For all the advice he’d given his grandson over the years, he’d never actually lived by it himself. And so, truly empathizing with the feeling of cherishing someone above all else was beyond him.
Cheon Han-jo pulled a cigarette from the table and placed it between his lips. Tae-seong flicked his lighter and lit it for him. The old man exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, then leaned back into the sofa like he was collapsing into it.
“I don’t agree.”
Tae-seong silently looked down at his grandfather’s stubborn lips.
What would happen if he told him about the imprinting? Would he be ridiculed for making the same foolish mistake as his mother had? Whatever he said about Ha-jin now, it was clear none of it would be accepted.
A knock sounded at the door, and Secretary Kim stepped into the study.
“Sir.”
Tae-seong already had a good idea of what she was going to say. She calmly continued, even under the heavy stares of both men.
“Director Han’s car just passed through the front gate.”
The white cigarette pinched between Cheon Han-jo’s fingers snapped clean in half.
***
After finally managing to fall asleep, Ha-jin woke up at sunrise.
Last night, he’d bluffed over the phone to Tae-seong, saying he was fine—but once the lights were off and he lay in bed, terrifying thoughts swirled in his head, keeping him from closing his eyes.
He’d rummaged through Tae-seong’s drawers and taken some sleeping pills, but even those hadn’t helped.
From the light, fitful sleep, his eyes had turned red like a rabbit’s, and ringing plagued his ears. His heart pounded erratically, and his breathing was shallow for no clear reason.
He deliberately avoided looking at his phone. Staring at that silent device would’ve been enough to drive him mad. As he wandered the living room, he was constantly struck by the urge to call for help, to report something to someone, to just do something.
If Kim Dae-hong hadn’t been standing guard outside the door, he might’ve gone mad and run out in search of Yushin already.
All morning, Ha-jin wandered aimlessly through Tae-seong’s spacious home. He revisited memories of the two years he’d spent here in his past life, wandered into rooms he’d never entered back then—hoping that maybe, just maybe, seeing the swimming pool or the rooftop greenhouse would help him forget for a little while.
But no matter what he tried, he couldn’t calm down. Eventually, Ha-jin discovered a space like a cave and let out a breathless laugh. The whole thing felt so absurd it made him laugh at himself.
Tae-seong’s scent…
In the dressing room connected to Tae-seong’s main bedroom, Ha-jin was forced to face the reality of being an Omega.
The deeper he followed Tae-seong’s pheromones, the more a sense of safety rushed in. It was like a visceral affirmation of his feelings.
“Ugh…”
He buried his nose in Tae-seong’s necktie and let out a low groan. It had only been one night, yet he missed him so desperately it hurt.
It wasn’t because he was emotionally fragile and seeking comfort—when he’d lived alone in Seoul and come down with a raging flu, not once had he longed for his grandmother.
Like a man possessed, Ha-jin began gathering Tae-seong’s pheromones. He passed through the section of thin summer clothing and dove into the winter coats, furs, jumpers, and jackets—anything that held even a trace of his scent.
Neckties, scarves, gloves, hats, even his watches—he took everything that had often touched Tae-seong’s skin and piled them up in a circle before crawling into the center and curling up tightly.
As soon as he closed his eyes, the memories surfaced vividly, like a painting.
The inside of Tae-seong’s coat, where the warmth pooled as he bent slightly to embrace him. The heady pheromones that lingered there. The way the scent concentrated under his nose with each breath Tae-seong took. The plush softness of his lips. The heat inside his sleeve brushing close to Ha-jin’s cheek. The firm, gentle strength of his hands. The dryness of his palm as it caressed his face…
Washed over with a wave of relief, Ha-jin lay on his side and drifted off into sleep, almost fainting.
Tears he hadn’t even realized had formed trickled down from the hollow beside his nose.
He lay curled up like that, asleep, for a long time.
“…Jin.”
“……”
“Ha-jin.”
At the voice he’d been waiting for, his eyes snapped open—but the view was dark. Flailing, he sat up, only to realize he’d been buried under the pile of clothing he’d made.
The mess around him was a disaster. He looked like a dog that had torn apart the sofa while its owner was away.
Before Tae-seong could see him like this, Ha-jin scrambled to clean up the scattered clothes.
“Were you sleeping in here?”
Then, closer than he expected, Tae-seong’s voice reached him. Ha-jin flinched and looked up—he was standing right in front of him.
When had he gotten here? With just three long strides, Tae-seong had closed the distance.
“CEO…”
Ha-jin quickly threw his arms open.
Without hesitation, Tae-seong bent down and collapsed into him, wrapping him in a tight, full embrace. At the same time, the surge of pheromones that hit his nose made Ha-jin’s eyes sting.
Tae-seong’s breath was heavy.
As the intense embrace loosened, Ha-jin noticed his collar and sleeves were stained with blood. It was only then that he realized Tae-seong had been deliberately releasing his pheromones to mask the scent of blood.
“What… what happened? Was it something serious again?”
Tae-seong clasped Ha-jin’s trembling hand and smiled like a dream.
“No. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Then…”
“If the will’s the problem… then it’s not an issue if there’s no one to receive it.”
His eyes, like they had absorbed all the light in the room, were shaded and dark. As he gently touched Ha-jin’s lowered brows, Tae-seong added in a breath-like sigh.
“There was just a bit of a fight because of that.”
At that, Ha-jin suddenly wondered what time it was. Turning his head to find a wall clock, he spotted the watch on Tae-seong’s wrist instead. Seeing that it was late afternoon, not yet sunset, his throat tightened.
He’d rushed all the way here… because of me.
Feeling Tae-seong’s heartbeat pounding against his chest, Ha-jin bit down hard on his lip. Then Tae-seong scooped him up off the floor in one smooth motion.
“If you’ve come back to your senses, get up.”
He nudged away the watches and ties scattered on the floor with his foot. He didn’t scold or ask why Ha-jin had made such a mess. He simply wrapped his arms around Ha-jin’s blushing shoulders and gently tapped his backside.
As if to say, I understand everything.
“Wash up and get dressed. We’re going to see your brother.”
The smile on Tae-seong’s face, as he carefully suppressed his pheromones, snapped Ha-jin back to himself.
