Da Haram stared straight at Tae-yi, unable to hide his frustration, then flicked his gaze down to the man’s hand. Not even a scratch on the finger he’d bitten. His lips twitched in a pout. He still hadn’t heard a single word he wanted—nothing like “I’ll tell you everything” or “Stay by my side.” It made him want to sink his teeth into him all over again. At the same time, he had the sudden urge to just throw himself into his arms and cry. But considering how Tae-yi had been avoiding physical contact lately, even that felt uncertain.
His chest tightening, Haram suddenly began swinging his front paws angrily through the air. It was his way of holding back the urge to bite.
“Jjae, jjiik?”
Why aren’t you kissing me?
He could only ask something like that because he was in sky squirrel form. Since Tae-yi couldn’t understand his whining, there was no need to be embarrassed, and he could vent all his frustration freely.
“Jji, jjiik?”
Why aren’t you doing pervy things?
“Let’s talk after you de-transform. I can’t understand a thing.”
As Haram’s squeaking dragged on, Tae-yi frowned slightly, his voice sounding more like a plea. Haram clearly looked upset. It was obvious he was complaining, but Tae-yi had no idea which of his many offenses Haram was actually mad about.
Even though Tae-yi begged, Haram had no intention of humanizing. Still clenched in tiny fists, he screamed as loudly as he could.
“Jji, JJIIIK!”
You’re a pervert!
If you’re a pervert, then act like one! Why are you avoiding me?
Fuming and huffing, Haram barreled into his arms and clung to him tightly.
“…Da Haram.”
He’d bitten him, run off, cried, gotten angry, and now was holding onto him like he was the most precious thing in the world. His mood had flipped so many times in such a short span that Tae-yi was left dizzy. Carefully scooping up the tiny sky squirrel, Tae-yi stood and walked them back to the bedroom.
The door clicked shut behind them—and in the blink of an eye, Da Haram returned to human form. With his head bowed, he threw his arms around Tae-yi’s neck and went up on tiptoe, clearly asking to be held. Tae-yi naturally slipped an arm under his butt and lifted him up.
“…Keep your promise. Don’t go anywhere. Hold me. Be there when I wake up.”
Though it was just a mumble, Tae-yi somehow understood every word and patted Haram’s back gently as he replied.
“I promise.”
Just hearing those two words made Haram’s emotions swing wildly again. He’d been angry and hurt, but now, just from that one line, he felt so reassured he could fall asleep on the spot. Even he thought he was being irrational. But still—he didn’t want to leave Tae-yi’s side. He sniffled and hugged him tighter, finally letting his eyes slip closed.
***
“You were gonna send him abroad? So that’s why he was sulking?”
“Keep your voice down.”
Tae-yi glared at Yoon Ji-seok, lowering his gaze to check on Haram still nestled peacefully in his arms, breathing evenly in his sleep. Then he looked back at Ji-seok.
“Where were you going to send him? Is Kang Tae-jin really that scary?”
Ji-seok, clearly unimpressed, clicked his tongue and began mocking him again.
“Why don’t you take him for a while?”
The moment Tae-yi said it, calm and quiet, Ji-seok practically exploded.
“Are you out of your mind?! I can’t live with him! Do you know how much he hates me?!”
He shot to his feet, shouting loud enough to rattle the study. Just yesterday, Haram had glared at him, ignored him completely, and even stepped on his foot. Living together was impossible.
“Just keep him until things are wrapped up.”
Tae-yi had expected this reaction. He’d already covered Haram’s ears, and now looked down as Haram stirred faintly, his ears twitching. He patted his back gently to soothe him.
Yoon Min-ho gave Ji-seok a sharp look, and only then did he lower his voice again, asking more calmly.
“When’s that gonna be? We haven’t even found that bastard Secretary Kim yet.”
They’d thought he’d show up soon after hearing the news about Chairman Kang being critically ill, but he was proving surprisingly cautious. The whole plan hadn’t even started yet—how could Tae-yi expect Ji-seok to babysit someone until it was all over? His temples throbbed just thinking about it.
As he pressed a hand to his forehead, Ji-seok looked at Tae-yi, still quietly tending to the sleeping Haram, and asked flatly,
“Are you trying to act like some innocent squirrel in front of him too?”
Maybe the reason Tae-yi wanted to send Haram abroad wasn’t just to hide him from Kang Tae-jin. It was more that he didn’t want Haram to see what he was really up to.
“You two are so incompatible. Stop pretending you’re not.”
Da Haram, a pure-hearted farmer from the countryside, could never understand the world Tae-yi operated in—and Tae-yi, for his part, wanted to keep all of that hidden from Haram. They came from completely different worlds. No amount of effort was going to bridge that gap.
“Anyway, just don’t send him overseas. He obviously doesn’t want to go.”
Ji-seok glanced at Tae-yi, who still hadn’t responded, and picked up a glass from the table.
“However you take down Kang Tae-jin, all you need to do is treat Da Haram well—just like you always have. It’s not like you’ve changed. You’ve always been a fucking bastard.”
If you’re with a bastard, be a bastard. If you’re with a sweet, innocent sky squirrel, act sweet and innocent. It was that simple. For once, Ji-seok felt like he was actually talking sense. He took a sip of his drink with satisfaction, then side-eyed Tae-yi, still silently holding Haram.
Yoon Min-ho, tired of Ji-seok’s running mouth, filled his glass to shut him up. When Tae-yi suddenly let out a quiet chuckle, Min-ho flinched. The silent laugh felt unnerving—like Tae-yi had made up his mind about something.
“Mm…”
A sleepy mumble stirred through the room. Haram shifted slightly, eyelids fluttering open. Realizing he was still cradled in that firm embrace, he jolted upright.
“Did you sleep well?”
Tae-yi let out another soft laugh as he gently stroked Haram’s puffy, tear-swollen eyes.
“P-Put me down…”
He’d kept every promise—held him, stayed by his side, even now after he’d woken up. But the real problem was that Chief Yoon and Ji-seok had witnessed the whole thing. Embarrassed, Haram’s cheeks flushed deep red as he whispered urgently. But Tae-yi only hugged him tighter, showing no intention of letting go.
“Put me down…!”
He wriggled in an attempt to escape, but Tae-yi’s grip only tightened like a trap. That teasing smile on his face made it clear—he was doing this on purpose again. Haram bit his lower lip, glared at him, and eventually poofed into sky squirrel form.
“Hey, Da Haram. Want to go overseas with me?”
The sky squirrel had just hopped down onto the sofa when Ji-seok’s voice rang out. Haram immediately shook his head in fierce protest. But once he fully understood what the question meant, he shook it even harder. Not only would he be separated from Tae-yi, but he’d have to go with Yoon Ji-seok? He’d rather let a sparrow steal his nuts.
“Jji, jjaek!”
No! Absolutely not!
Seeing Haram shake his head violently with his eyes squeezed shut, Ji-seok grinned in satisfaction and pointed dramatically at Tae-yi.
“See that? He hates me that much. Don’t even think about sending him abroad.”
If they went overseas together, Haram might actually fly off and escape. And in a foreign country, trying to find a sky squirrel no bigger than a palm would be a nightmare. If Haram ran from him abroad, Ji-seok would probably have to spend the rest of his life searching for him. Absolute hell.
Watching Ji-seok gloat about being hated, Haram got so dizzy from shaking his head that he staggered and collapsed on the spot. But he didn’t stay down long. Pushing himself up with determination, he grabbed his spinning head and marched over to Tae-yi, clutching at his pant leg.
“Jji, jjiik!”
I’ll go by myself, then!
Looking up with those desperate, pleading eyes, Tae-yi let out a quiet sigh and gently picked him up again.
“Alright. Just calm down.”
Yeah… it was probably time to give up on this whole plan to send him overseas. Forcing him when he hated the idea this much wasn’t right.
And more than anything, Ji-seok’s words—obnoxious as they were—had helped snap him out of his own confusion.
