“This is why, hhic… this is why you kept me stuck in Seoul, isn’t it? You… sniff you knew all along, didn’t you?”
Haram’s voice cut through the silence before Tae-yi could respond, thick tears rolling down his cheeks as grief and fury collided. Tae-yi instinctively reached out to wipe away those tears, but Haram sharply turned his head away.
“Does it feel good making someone into a fool?”
Wiping his tears with the heel of his palm, Haram shouted in a choked voice. He really did feel like a fool. All those days spent beside him, smiling without knowing a damn thing—they made him feel stupid beyond belief.
“I’ll take care of it. The peanut field… this was the best I could do. I’m sorry.”
Tae-yi finally spoke, but Haram shook his head firmly, refusing to hear a word of it.
“I should’ve ignored you that day in the mountains. Ever since then… sniffle nothing’s gone right.”
It was like he’d been cursed. After that peaceful life in the countryside, now there was a resort on the way and people pressuring him to sell his land and his home. He’d manifested as an Omega despite being a Beastfolk. And the man he’d trusted—loved—was nothing more than a liar, someone who had deceived him about everything.
Living alone and tending the farm hadn’t been joyful, but it hadn’t been this miserable either. He wanted to rewind time, go back to the way things were—plain, ordinary, but safe.
Still sobbing, Haram brushed past Tae-yi, hot tears dripping as he stumbled forward on trembling legs. All Tae-yi could do was silently watch the retreating figure.
He stood there, staring blankly at Haram’s back until he disappeared from view on the path home. Then Tae-yi ran his fingers roughly through his hair and sighed again and again, trying to keep the anger boiling inside him under control.
But he couldn’t tell who the anger was aimed at. Was it Kang Tae-jin, for orchestrating this? Or himself, for being so helpless?
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to run after Da Haram, to coax him gently, bring him somewhere safe, and keep him close. But the damage was already done. The misunderstanding had festered too long, and the trust was long gone. Forceful action now would only make things worse. If they tried to talk in this state, all they’d do was hurt each other more.
After a few deep breaths, Tae-yi finally reined in his emotions and left the peanut field. There were other things he needed to do.
***
Haram didn’t even know how he made it home. He’d lost count of how many times he collapsed while climbing the hill on shaky legs. Gritting his teeth against the sting of his scraped knees, he dragged himself across the yard and into the house.
The moment he reached the living room, he collapsed onto the couch, staring at his dirt-covered hands with a choked sob.
He felt like everything he had had been stolen. Empty. Angry. Should he go to the police? Would that even work against monsters like them? Was he being taken advantage of just because he was ignorant?
A powerless, young farmer—there was nothing he could do. All he could manage now was to take it out on Tae-yi, because Tae-yi was the only one he could reach. And even though he knew it wasn’t Tae-yi who’d destroyed the peanut field, he’d still lashed out. Still screamed at him. And he hated himself for it.
He was lost. This was all so new, so far beyond anything he’d ever faced. His mind had gone completely blank, and no matter how hard he tried to think, no answers came. The only conclusion he could reach was that there was nothing he could do. That sense of helplessness wrapped itself around him like chains.
His insides felt like they were rotting—burning one second, choking the next.
Just that morning, his body had felt light and clean. Now it was wrecked, completely consumed by stress that had surpassed any breaking point. The more he tried to think rationally, the more his mind went white. It felt like even the circuits in his brain had shorted out.
Lying limply on the couch, Haram blinked slowly under the weight of his heavy eyelids. His gaze drifted to a photo frame on the shelf, and all at once, hot tears welled up again.
“…Grandma.”
The silence in the living room was finally broken—filled instead with Haram’s quiet, broken sobs.
***
Meanwhile, Tae-yi stood in the peanut field, smoking and staring vacantly when a black sedan approached in the distance. Chief Yoon stepped out, smelling of freshly pressed perilla oil, and walked over.
“Director, Attorney Han said he wants to meet with you as soon as possible.”
“Attorney Han?”
Tae-yi exhaled a long trail of smoke as he repeated the name. Attorney Han was his father’s personal legal counsel and long-time friend—practically a brother, though not by blood. Tae-yi hadn’t expected to hear from him. He’d assumed the next time they met would be at his father’s funeral.
Whatever the reason, he wasn’t thrilled about it. The man was just as unpleasant to deal with as his father.
After a brief pause, Tae-yi spoke.
“Tell him I’ll stop by his place this evening.”
As he walked toward the back seat of the car, Chief Yoon hesitated before asking,
“…Will you be leaving Da Haram behind?”
Tae-yi turned his head slightly to glance up at the hill where Haram’s hanok stood—but said nothing. Without a word, he got into the car, and Chief Yoon, letting out a faint sigh, followed.
***
Tae-yi stared out the window the entire ride back to Seoul. After arriving at his home, he spent ages in front of a single potted plant. It looked like some kind of greenery, but he had no idea what it was. The leaves had withered and curled, looking like they might fall off any second.
“Should I postpone the meeting with Attorney Han until tomorrow?”
Chief Yoon asked cautiously from behind, seeing that Tae-yi hadn’t moved an inch from the planter.
“Do you think I can still save it?”
It was phrased as a question, but it wasn’t one. The answer was already implied. Tae-yi picked up the small watering can beside the pot and began dribbling water in a slow, circular motion around the stem.
“Don’t pour water directly onto the seedlings—make a circle around them instead!”
That had been Haram’s silly advice every time he watered the cherry tomatoes. He’d never once managed to say it seriously, always flustering himself and running off in embarrassment, his tail twitching wildly behind him. That memory flashed back so vividly, it felt like it had just happened. Tae-yi let out a quiet laugh and continued watering carefully.
“The stem’s still healthy. It’ll survive.”
Chief Yoon, still standing behind him and watching nervously, offered a quiet reassurance. Tae-yi rose from his seat and replied just as quietly.
“It has to.”
***
“It’s been a while.”
The middle-aged man in a wheelchair smiled at Tae-yi, who gave a small nod of acknowledgment but said nothing. The man continued,
“How’s your father doing? I’d come see him myself, but my legs don’t work like they used to.”
“Why did you ask to see me?”
Attorney Han had always been long-winded. Sensing he might go off on another round of sentimentality, Tae-yi cut straight to the point. He didn’t have time to play therapist for a lonely old man.
“Cold as ever.”
Clicking his tongue, Attorney Han pressed on.
“Tae-jin came to see me. Asked about your father’s will.”
Tae-yi’s laughter rang through the spacious drawing room before the words had even finished leaving the man’s mouth. Just picturing Kang Tae-jin, nervous and desperate like a dog needing to piss, was too funny to hold back.
Seeing that reaction, Attorney Han let out a small sigh and continued.
“I did call him a bastard and kicked him out, but… Tae-yi.”
Now he was getting to the real reason he’d asked him here. Tae-yi’s smile faded, and he quietly looked the man in the eye.
“Your father could pass at any time. Don’t you think you and your brother should come together, just once?”
God, Tae-yi thought. The older they get, the more sentimental they become. What childish nonsense. But Attorney Han kept going, clearly not picking up on the disinterest.
“Tae-jin has ambition, but not the ability. You, on the other hand, have the talent—but no desire for power. I can still see your father pacing right before his collapse, torn over who to name as successor.”
Ideally, brothers should support each other and lead the company together, but anyone who had witnessed the mess between Tae-jin and Tae-yi would know that was a fantasy. Attorney Han knew it, too.
“Think about the company, Tae-yi. If things go south, it’s not just your brother who’ll lose out.”
“I don’t care.”
He’d listened long enough. He had no interest in being treated like some disobedient child who just needed a little coaxing. Getting up without hesitation, Tae-yi headed for the door of the drawing room.
“Even if you say that,” Attorney Han called after him, “I know you care about the company. You don’t crave the position, but you do love the work.”
Tae-yi paused just before leaving, turning only his head to look back. Attorney Han’s wrinkled face was weighed down with worry—as if this wasn’t someone else’s family problem but his own.
“Tae-jin is the eldest, and it would look better for him to take the chairman’s seat. Couldn’t you support him from behind the scenes?”
“That would’ve been easiest, sure. But Kang Tae-jin…” Tae-yi’s voice turned cold. “He crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”
Trying to kill him—maybe, maybe—he could’ve found a way to overlook that. But dragging Da Haram into this? That he could never forgive. That wounded, devastated expression on Haram’s face when he saw the peanut field still haunted him. The disgusting trap Tae-jin had set, forcing Haram to find out the truth that way… That was unforgivable.
Finishing his words, Tae-yi gave a respectful nod and exited the drawing room. Attorney Han, watching his retreating back, exhaled deeply—already dreading the storm that was sure to come.
