That key was designed to only be used after his father’s death in the first place.
Then that meant the will that was revealed was a scheme carried out by Jang Jihyeok, Jang Jihun, Jang Jihae, and the others who came that day.
As the roots of that realization spread, life finally returned to Choi Suho’s face.
“Suho, I—Jang Ji……”
Thud!
It was the moment Ji Haesu stepped closer. Choi Suho yanked the IV needle straight out of his arm, clenched his left fist, and smashed it into Ji Haesu’s face. Caught off guard, Ji Haesu took a solid hit for the first time in a long while. He slowly turned his head, rubbing his cheek where a faint cut remained.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You fucking bastard—did you think I wouldn’t know you teamed up with Jang Jihyeok to completely fuck me over?!”
Choi Suho snarled, his knuckles throbbing from how hard he’d punched him. Ji Haesu tilted his head lightly from side to side, grabbed the back of his own neck, and let out a low laugh.
“Ha.”
Then he reached out, grabbed Choi Suho by the throat, and slammed him down.
“Khk!”
“I told you you were pretty, pretty—and now you’re pulling this shit on a hyung four years older than you? Huh? Was carving my face not enough? You even throw punches now—what’s next? ‘Jang what?’ I joined hands with who?”
“Then how—khk—the will—huff—explain why I’m not in it—khk!”
“Jang Yuguk’s real will.”
Choi Suho’s eyes widened. Ji Haesu let out a low, bitter laugh, slowly released his grip, then brushed his thumb over Suho’s stiff lips. He slid his thumb inside Suho’s mouth, gently rubbing against his tongue as he whispered.
“What—did you think you were the only thing your dad spilled outside?”
“……!”
Ji Haesu smiled and quietly delivered the truth.
“Don’t worry. You were still the only child he truly loved. That will stated that no inheritance would be passed on to a recessive Omega.”
Choi Suho’s eyes trembled violently with shock. It felt like a missing puzzle piece snapped perfectly into place inside his chaotic, scattered thoughts, choking his chest tight. Everything came down to one single reason.
“So I’m…… really a recessive Omega?”
Still believing himself to be a dominant Alpha, Choi Suho asked in a shaking voice. He heard something collapse inside him. Ji Haesu pressed both hands down on Suho’s shoulders and spoke in a reassuring tone.
“Yeah, Suho. Just like Si-in.”
The light left Choi Suho’s eyes. Holding his gaze, Ji Haesu continued.
“That’s why you were removed from the will. Jang Yuguk’s will only allowed dominant Alphas to inherit the estate.”
“No!”
Choi Suho shouted, rejecting reality. He sprang up, grabbed Ji Haesu by the collar with both hands, and glared at him with bloodshot eyes, raising his voice.
“You joined hands with Jang Jihyeok and deliberately showed my dad the scene of you raping me that day, didn’t you?! So he’d cut me out of the will—!”
“Sorry, Suho. I don’t take requests from creepy, money-soaked guys like Jang Jihyeok. He did ask me to ruin your life—but I turned him down.”
“Don’t fucking lie, you bastard!!!”
Ji Haesu cupped Choi Suho’s face, unfazed by the casual speech and curses coming from someone four years younger, and spoke gently.
“If you’re that curious, why don’t you go ask at the funeral hall right now?”
“……”
How could you say something like that? You know I’m a bastard—that I wouldn’t be formally invited to the funeral.
Watching those prideful eyes soaked with tears, Ji Haesu deliberately twisted the knife, reaching out with bad hands while acting soft and kind.
“Oh, right. You couldn’t get invited because you’re one of the kids your dad spilled outside too, huh? But I happen to know the location. Want me to tell you?”
“……”
“I’ll tell you if you call me hyung. I was invited, you know.”
Ji Haesu showed him his burner phone. On the screen was a real message announcing the death of Honorary Chairman Jang Yuguk. The fact that the obituary message—one that hadn’t come to his phone—had arrived on the phone of someone he didn’t even know properly made Choi Suho laugh in disbelief.
“Ha… hahaha.”
The sender was none other than Jang Jihyeok.
“And you expect me to believe you’re not in cahoots with Jang Jihyeok after this?”
“He just sent it because he thinks we’re close. Don’t misunderstand. If you’re really curious, want me to show you the transfer records he sent me?”
“Fuck off. Even if you don’t tell me, I know where my dad’s funeral is.”
Choi Suho pushed weakly against Ji Haesu’s chest and muttered in a powerless voice.
“I can handle things myself without someone like you.”
This time, Ji Haesu’s face hardened.
Do you have any idea who I beat into the ground—Jang Jihyeok, Jang Jihun, and Jang Jihae—for your sake, telling them not to touch you? And now what did you just say?
Someone like you?
You?
“What did you just say?”
“Even without someone like you—ugh!”
Bang!
Ji Haesu slammed Choi Suho back onto the bed with his forearm as Suho tried to get up. Crushed down again, Choi Suho choked as his Adam’s apple was pressed.
“Fuck—this bastard always goes straight for the throat whenever something happens!”
Sure, the throat was the biggest weak point—he’d grabbed others there himself—but experiencing it firsthand was fucking unbearable. He’d been trying to live better, telling himself not to do things like that anymore. But Ji Haesu didn’t even have the first letter of turning over a new leaf.
I’m the idiot for ever feeling excited over someone like this. I must’ve lost my mind after hearing about Dad’s death.
“Hey. You don’t know what I’m thinking, do you?”
“How the fuck would I know what you’re thinking, you moron?!”
Choi Suho lashed out like a kitten with claws bared. He’d already been driven into a dead end. All he had left were the hotel and the amusement park. To outsiders, that was enough wealth to live comfortably for generations—but to Choi Suho, who’d grown up loved as the son of Korea’s number one chaebol, it was no different from falling straight into hell.
“You think I use mind-reading or something, you little shit……”
Smack!
“Ack!”
Like an old-school asshole, Ji Haesu slapped him across the face.
“Call me hyung.”
“No!”
Choi Suho snapped back.
“I don’t call Jang Jihyeok hyung either! Or Jang Jihun! Or Jang Jihae! Fuck them all!”
Ji Haesu’s eyebrow twitched, but when he thought about how Suho addressed Jang Jihyeok—someone old enough to be his father, maybe even was his father—the anger drained away. Choi Suho was consistently, spectacularly rude.
Well, breaking someone like this and hearing him say “hyung” later might not be so bad. With that thought, Ji Haesu released his grip on Suho’s neck and smirked.
“Fine. Do whatever you want.”
“I always do whatever I want!”
“So—you’re really going to your father’s funeral now? You probably shouldn’t.”
Ji Haesu lowered his gaze and smiled. Choi Suho, clutching his sore throat and coughing, replied,
“I’m going. Fuck.”
“Go, then. But what about a suit?”
“……”
“Want me to bring one?”
Ji Haesu asked. Choi Suho clamped his mouth shut. Ji Haesu crossed his arms, chuckled, then—
“Say it. ‘Hyung, bring it.’”
He pressed his cheek close. Choi Suho stared at him in shock as Ji Haesu smiled prettily with his eyes and whispered into his ear like a spell.
“Then something really good might happen later, Suho.”
“You’re not going to rape me?”
Choi Suho asked, just in case. Ji Haesu stroked his chin and answered.
“Ah, I forgot to mention that. I’m someone who separates business and personal matters—so that’ll continue.”
“Then that’s not something good, you fucking bastard!”
Choi Suho clenched his fist and shouted, and Ji Haesu smacked him on the head with his knuckles.
Thud!
“Ack!”
After taking a solid flick, Choi Suho clutched his head and groaned on the bed. His whole body, his ass, and now even his head—having been beaten everywhere, the misery of his situation finally hit him, along with the realization that he had nowhere left to lean on. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes.
Suddenly, he missed his father so much that tears spilled freely.
I became an orphan. It was my fault—but even so, wasn’t I allowed to grieve becoming an orphan?
“Hic!”
Choi Suho propped up his broken leg, bent the unbroken one, bowed his head, and sobbed. Ji Haesu didn’t comfort him—he just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching silently. Then he took one hand out and slowly, awkwardly, brushed Suho’s hair.
“Don’t.”
Choi Suho said in a trembling, tear-soaked voice.
“You’re going to rape me and throw me away anyway—don’t comfort me like you care.”
“When the job’s over… want me to pick you up?”
At Ji Haesu’s question, Choi Suho laughed through his tears.
“You really are you.”
“I told you.”
