Mine to Break Chapter 5.2 - Pregnancy

“Hyung?”

“Come out in five minutes.”

Yoonjo whispered quickly, pressed his fallen cap back onto his head, and hurriedly left the stall. He deliberately turned on the faucet to wash his hands before exiting, only to run into the manager at the bathroom entrance.

“Ugh, slow bastard.”

Thwack—the manager struck Yoonjo’s head again, grumbling that everything about him was a hassle. Yoonjo bowed his head, muttering an apology, but the manager didn’t even acknowledge him and headed toward the elevator. Following behind, Yoonjo glanced back. Yujeong was nowhere to be seen, perhaps having listened to his instructions. His heart suddenly pounded as if it might burst. Yoonjo took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing breaths.

The dorm they descended to was empty, as the others were at practice after school. Yoonjo packed his things under the manager’s watchful eye. Before that, the manager had already taken the wallet Yoonjo kept in the wardrobe drawer. The less than ten thousand won inside went straight into the manager’s pocket.

“Just pack a few pairs of underwear. What else do you need besides screwing around?”

Nodding, Yoonjo put back the T-shirt he’d been about to pack and zipped up his bag.

“Ha! What the…”

Curious about the manager’s reaction, Yoonjo turned to see him peering into a paper bag neatly placed against the wall, his head lowered. The bag held an unopened gift with a letter on top, and it seemed the manager had noticed the name written on it and figured out what it was.

“Hey, whore. Playing house with innocent kids, huh? Must be living the good life.”

The manager sneered, kicked the paper bag with a thwack, and left the room. Yoonjo stared at the spilled contents but moved when the manager shouted at him to hurry up. He wouldn’t have opened them anyway.

“…….”

“I shouldn’t have opened the letter either…” Yoonjo muttered as he climbed into the passenger seat with the manager’s permission.

Some time later, Yujeong, sensing something was off and taking advantage of a break to return to the dorm, was greeted by an empty room. It was as neatly organized as always, but Yujeong instinctively knew Yoonjo had left. His eyes caught the paper bag, carelessly scattered on the floor—the only thing out of place in the tidy room.

What the hell…

Yujeong, about to pick up the spilled gift and letter, froze. The gift wrapping was untouched, but the letter had been opened.

“Yujeong, get out of this company.”

“Take the kids and get out.”

Hyung, what’s going on…

Confused, Yujeong couldn’t take his eyes off the letter for a long time.

ᢉ𐭩

“Sir.”

During a meeting, Sahyeok nodded at the low call. As if it were a signal, the executives gathered their belongings and left the conference room.

“A proposal came for the PM Hotel at 8 p.m.”

“Proposal?”

Sahyeok smirked, tossing a piece of candy into his mouth.

“A high-born public official making a proposal to a mere thug? Isn’t it more like a summons?”

“…….”

Jaewook used silence as agreement.

“When?”

“May 2nd. It’s a Friday.”

“A family dinner with a new member during Family Month? Sounds nice.”

Sahyeok buttoned his jacket and took the lead, with Jaewook following behind.

“They say they’ve long wanted a Dominant Alpha son-in-law.”

As the elevator doors closed, creating a sealed space, Jaewook delivered the delayed report.

“Gene laundering and lineage cleansing? Sounds like we’re getting the short end of the stick.”

“They didn’t seem unaware of that.”

“And?”

“They said they prepared a gift. I haven’t confirmed it yet.”

“I’m very curious to see how impressive this gift is. Aren’t you?”

Jaewook gave a short bow in response to Sahyeok’s tone, which carried no real expectation, and spoke again.

“How should we prepare for this rut cycle?”

Sahyeok, gazing at the city skyline below the glass wall, furrowed one eyebrow.

“Are all the goods at that level?”

“Yes, sir. My apologies.”

“You’ve got a lot to apologize for.”

Sahyeok replied nonchalantly, then fell into thought. A Dominant Alpha’s rut cycle came twice a year. Medications for traits couldn’t escape the law of supply and demand. With fewer trait-bearers, research was scarce, and the suppressants available were of poor quality.

Sahyeok’s grandfather, a Dominant Alpha, had invested heavily in suppressant development, solely for himself and his heir, Sahyeok. Thanks to that, Sahyeok could manage his ruts with Betas instead of being tethered to Omegas. His last rut was three months ago, so another three months remained.

“P-pregnancy?”

Song Yoonjo, trembling as he confessed, had miscarried what was undoubtedly Sahyeok’s seed. Calculated from the rut three months ago, the timing matched perfectly.

Sex with Betas was easier because Sahyeok didn’t need to regulate his pheromones. Even for Sahyeok, a Dominant Alpha with perfect pheromone control, the pleasure of releasing pheromones was unmatched.

With Betas, who neither sensed nor were affected by pheromones, Sahyeok could unleash his Alpha pheromones freely, whether satisfying raw desire or enduring a rut. It was intense enough to cause a pheromone shock in another trait-bearer. He’d called Yoonjo two or three times a week, meaning for nearly half a year, Song Yoonjo had been steeped in Dominant Alpha pheromones.

Some academics claimed Alpha pheromones could trigger manifestation in Betas, though the theory wasn’t yet established. Unlike Sahyeok, who’d grabbed a knife at his first birthday, his father, who’d chosen a pen, had spent his life as a scholar, now respected in trait research.

His father’s dedication to research was entirely for Geum Sahyeok. The guilt his father felt toward Sahyeok, who’d inherited the family business rooted in organized crime, was immense, viewing him as little more than a thug carrying the family’s weight.

His father would likely be thrilled to have Yoonjo as a research subject, but Sahyeok wasn’t interested. He disliked complicated relationships. He strictly separated consumables from durables. Showing his father a tool used for mere release went against Sahyeok’s principles.

Too much hassle.

As Sahyeok habitually reached for another candy, he recalled the pale face looking up at him with rabbit-like eyes and smirked. It had been useful. The fact that he hadn’t found a replacement yet was proof.

Putting the candy back, Sahyeok said, “Get the drugs ready. Unless you want to clean up a corpse.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jaewook, who’d been tense about arranging a partner, hid his relief and bowed. The list of candidates was already exhausted. Most, lured by money, fled before even spending a full night, unable to handle the fear Geum Sahyeok instilled, not just his violent and sadistic sex. That’s why Song Yoonjo had been a semi-regular. Yoonjo didn’t fear Sahyeok. Or rather, paradoxically, he feared him while not fearing him. Such a specimen wasn’t nonexistent, but it wasn’t easy to find.

So Jaewook was inwardly relieved by Sahyeok’s decision. Outside of his rut, Sahyeok easily exercised self-control, but during it, he didn’t. It wasn’t that he couldn’t—it was that he chose not to. A Dominant Alpha in rut was closer to a beast than a human, far from the romanticized media portrayals. The mention of cleaning up a corpse wasn’t just a metaphor.

ᢉ𐭩

The hotel Park Changseong arranged was a motel in name only. In the cramped, dim room, Yoonjo did nothing but sleep. Whenever the manager stopped by, kicking him awake, he’d eat and fall back asleep. It was survival instinct—he needed to recover as much as possible to endure what was coming, and he was genuinely battered and exhausted.

“Hey, whore. If you’re ready, get out here.”

Yoonjo was dressed in a semi-formal outfit. He’d neatly combed his hair, which would soon be disheveled anyway, and checked his fading scars. The marks from being choked with a packing strap and the cigarette burns on his hands were still vivid but had improved. The fact that there were no new visible scars, aside from the faint one on his forehead, was a small comfort.

“Look at you, all dressed up.”

The manager, waiting at the door, openly sneered at Yoonjo under the hallway light. The satin semi-formal suit was white, with the back of both the top and pants cut open, fully exposing his back and splitting at the hips, designed for easy access. It was clothing sent directly by Ha Sangmin.

“Walk carefully. Don’t go broadcasting your torn pants to the whole neighborhood.”

Even without the warning, Yoonjo couldn’t walk quickly, hyper-aware of his exposed back. He was surprised he still felt shame after everything he’d been through.

“I’ll say it again: this is a hundred-million-won deal. If you try to bolt, I’ll drag you back in, so don’t even think about it. Not that you’d get far anyway.”

The security would be tight. In a place like that, tight security meant anything could happen without consequence. “Anything” included things that crossed legal boundaries.

Sitting in the passenger seat of the roughly sliding car, Yoonjo stared out the window, his eyelids lifting slightly. The building filling his vision was familiar.

That place.

The club where people supposedly disappeared without a trace.

Yoonjo gripped his trembling fingertips tightly.

ᢉ𐭩

“Here’s the gift.”

Geum Sahyeok presented it before the meal. The man, dressed in a simple but expensive suit, sitting with his shoulders squared, was a local assemblyman approaching sixty.

“What’s all this for?”

“I heard you’re under a lot of stress with the upcoming investigation. Since we’ll soon be family, shouldn’t I do at least this much?”

“Stress, my foot…”

Grumbling but not refusing the gift, the man slid the black sapphire case aside. An aide waiting behind opened it, checked the contents, and whispered something to him.

“A USB?”

“There should be some useful things on it.”

“Huh.”

The man, facing an investigation over a fifty-billion-won savings bank scandal, was under the jurisdiction of the Yongwon Prosecutor’s Office, led by Team Leader Jung Chankyung.

Impressed by Geum Sahyeok’s knack for delivering exactly what was needed, the man quickly composed himself. He was a useful tool—sharp as a blade. Reading his thoughts perfectly, Sahyeok flashed a charming smile. He knew his appearance disarmed people and used it deliberately.

“I hope it’s to your liking.”

“Ha, ha, ha. It’s Geum Sahyeok—how could it disappoint?”

Laughing heartily, the man filled Sahyeok’s glass first. Sahyeok, filling the man’s glass with both hands, raised his own.

“Drink comfortably. Like you said, we’ll be family soon.”

“With you saying that, I don’t even need appetizers.”

Sahyeok replied politely, tilted his head, and drained his glass. The man, watching closely, only wet his lips before setting his glass down.

“I forgot I have a health checkup the day after tomorrow. It’s an annual thing, but I can’t avoid my wife’s nagging. I hope you’ll understand, Mr. Geum.”

Sahyeok, placing his empty glass down, looked at the man with a smile still in his eyes and nodded slowly.

“I see. I should’ve prepared tea instead of alcohol.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Oh, the food’s coming. Let’s continue talking over the meal.”

The man, with the exaggerated gestures typical of a politician, seemed relieved as the tightly closed doors opened on both sides. Sahyeok’s eyes, catching that moment, turned cold.

“I had the dishes prepared as a single course to avoid interruptions during our talk.”

“Oh, that’s good. I don’t like people coming and going either. My wife finds it quite bothersome.”

“Next time, let’s invite her too.”

“Haha, shall we?”

The man, unfazed, replied while sipping water instead of alcohol, poured by his aide.

Sahyeok, offering the man food first, flicked his fingers. Tap, tap. The man glanced at the fingers tapping the table but picked up his utensils, pretending not to notice. He was likely cursing Sahyeok as a vulgar butcher in his mind.

The VIP room currently held three people: the man, his aide, and Geum Sahyeok. Jaewook was waiting behind the door, and the man and his aide had been in the room before Sahyeok.

Thinking that far, Sahyeok stopped his fingers and moved like lightning.

“Aaagh—! What the hell are you doing?! Aide! Lee Sungil! Lee Sungil, you bastard, call the police! The police…!”

The man, stabbed in the hand with chopsticks, flailed and screamed, then choked as his breath caught. The traditional liquor, served in an opaque glass bottle, was perfect for smashing skulls.

Thwack—thwack—thwack—! Sahyeok kept swinging the bottle until the man’s skull was visible, then smashed it with a final thwack. A sharp glass shard was pressed against the throat of the aide, who’d been trembling against the wall like a leaf since the man started screaming.

“Lee Sungil, aide?”

“Y-yes? Yes… yes! I-I…”

“Open that door.”

“What? Oh! Y-yes, sir! Yes, sir!”

The aide, meeting Sahyeok’s snake-like narrowed eyes, jumped and slid the heavy sliding door aside.

“Ha.”

Sahyeok’s hollow laugh wasn’t because the forty-year-old aide nearly wet himself. Beyond the door was a nearly naked male prostitute. An Omega. No, more precisely, a Beta cloaked in an Omega’s scent. The gift prepared by the old man—whose proud shoulders had shrunk and whose wrinkled face was now unrecognizably crushed—was this.

“Sir.”

Jaewook, who’d entered the moment the man screamed, quietly called Sahyeok. His face, splattered with bright red blood, turned to Jaewook. Jaewook, instinctively tensing, swallowed hard.

“They were trying to steal my seed?”

“…….”

That one sentence explained everything. The old man had no intention of forming a marriage alliance with Geum Sahyeok. Needing a Dominant Alpha’s seed, he’d planned to drug Sahyeok’s drink, pair him with the prepared prostitute, and steal his semen. Having been through this before, Sahyeok had sensed it from a single crack.

“Clean this up and call the cleanup team.”

“Yes, boss.”

Jaewook, too tense to notice he’d slipped into calling Sahyeok “boss,” calmly made the call. Within ten minutes, the cleanup team arrived. Sahyeok, wiping blood from his face and skin, tossed the wet cloth aside without bothering with his shirt. Were it not for the bloodstains, he wouldn’t look like someone who’d just killed. He strode out of the room.

“Boss.”

“Find the nearest Omega right now.”

“Huh? Oh.”

Realizing the reason instantly, Jaewook pulled out his phone again.

“Those bastards used my own drug on me.”

Sahyeok, laughing in disbelief, showed taut muscles under his jaw. The drug, commonly used as an aphrodisiac for Betas but a rut inducer for trait-bearers, had been circulated by Geum Sahyeok himself three years ago. A rut triggered by the drug could only be resolved by mating with another trait-bearer. In short, Sahyeok, now in rut, needed an Omega to roll with.

Jaewook, well aware of this, quickly finished the call and reported to Sahyeok.

“There’s an Omega party at Enve.”

Enve was a ten-minute drive from the hotel, a club tied to Jung Chankyung. An Omega party referred to a group of Alphas gang-raping a single Omega—a “game” long practiced due to Omegas’ rarity compared to Alphas.

As the elevator descended, Jaewook, watching Sahyeok’s increasingly labored breathing with concern, added, “But the Omega is Song Yoonjo.”

The effects of the rut inducer were kicking in, Sahyeok’s muscles twitching as his chest heaved like an enraged beast. Jaewook, stepping back, couldn’t relax.

“Boss.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Sahyeok grabbed Jaewook’s collar and strode to the parked car. Dragging Jaewook, who was at least average-sized, like a doll, Sahyeok got into the passenger seat. Jaewook, thrown into the driver’s seat, started the engine without time to adjust his clothes. An uncontrollable heat radiated from Sahyeok.

“Ha, damn it.”

Muttering a low curse, Sahyeok shook his head as if trying to clear his mind and barked, “Floor it.”

“Yes, boss.”

Jaewook didn’t ask twice and slammed the accelerator. Their destination was Enve Club.

ᢉ𐭩

Ha Sangmin was crouched by Yoonjo’s bedside, holding high-quality marijuana in one hand and a glass of whiskey worth five thousand a bottle in the other.

“You manifested and miscarried, huh? That’s why I brought only Alphas today. So why can’t you enjoy it properly? Is it because you’re recessive? That’s how defective products are, right? They never perform when you need them to.”

“Ugh…”

At Ha Sangmin’s glance, the cock stuffed in Yoonjo’s throat slid out. Haa—cough—cough— Yoonjo coughed as if his body were convulsing, but even then, he was being pounded from below with relentless thwacks.

“Hey, are you defective too? Damn it, ten Alphas can’t even get one pathetic Beta excited? Money-grubbing vermin.”

Ha Sangmin, hurling insults, took a deep drag of the marijuana and stared somewhere intently.

“No, the guys I called are fine. It’s you, who can’t even get it up despite being pounded like that, who’s the problem, right, you whore?”

Yoonjo’s throat was stuffed again, unable to respond. Losing interest in burning Yoonjo’s hands, Ha Sangmin looked for something else. His bloodshot, dilated eyes landed on Yoonjo’s cock, which, despite the Alphas’ relentless thrusting and stimulation, remained limp, leaking only urine.

“Is that why Geum Sahyeok dumped you? Hey, I saw your fist going in earlier. Why the hell are you bleeding when it’s so loose? Filthy.”

Ha Sangmin, inhaling deeply from the marijuana, exhaled smoke and moved to Yoonjo’s waist.

“I’ve got over ten billion in assets, you know. But damn it, they let Geum Sahyeok in and not me? What’s some loan-sharking gangster thug compared to an upstanding citizen like me?”

Muttering to himself while listening to Yoonjo’s groans, Ha Sangmin’s bleary eyes suddenly widened. He stubbed out the marijuana’s embers on Yoonjo’s cock. Yoonjo, who’d passed out, jolted awake, convulsing, still impaled from above and below.

“When someone’s talking, what are you doing? So rude.”

Admiring the reddened burn on Yoonjo’s cock, Ha Sangmin laughed, seeing liquid leak from the urethra, and slapped the naked Alpha beside him, as if watching something hilarious.

“But now people are starting to respect me. Geum Sahyeok? I’m sitting in better seats than that bastard, meeting big-shot celebrities, eating meals from chefs even the president can’t easily book.”

Calling Yoonjo and leaving worse scars was part of the same game. If a hand left choke marks, he’d use a tougher strap. If his insides were bruised up to his abdomen, he’d punch the spot. Every scar was treated the same.