Underpainting Chapter 7.1 - Blurring (1)

“Mister. You never intended to grant my request from the beginning, did you?”

At those words, Taehan’s eyes widened. It was strange to see Taehan, who was usually so skilled at lying, react like someone caught off guard.

Did he think Dawon wouldn’t notice anything, locked away in that small room? Or perhaps he was surprised that Dawon was speaking to him angrily.

Dawon was surprised too. He couldn’t understand why he was angry at Taehan, why he felt so heartbroken and miserable, as if the world had crumbled around him.

‘That’s right. Mister, that man, never promised to listen to me anyway.’

Looking back, it was true. Taehan had never once said he would fulfill Dawon’s request. From the outset, it was a one-sided plea from Dawon, something that didn’t benefit Taehan in any way.

‘But, but…’

What Dawon had asked of Taehan was a long-held wish. Confined to a damp studio with a weakened body, enduring countless changing seasons while solely focused on painting, Dawon had held onto that wish to keep himself from losing his mind.

Dawon was desperately yearning, yet he also knew that his yearning might hold no significance for others.

Dawon had always believed that whether or not his request would be granted was entirely up to Taehan. When they first met, he had even acted as if he was offering himself to be used, mentioning the high price his paintings fetched. He had no right and no reason to feel betrayed now.

‘Then why did you do that to me?’

Even though he knew all this, the bubbling emotions wouldn’t subside. Aside from the question he had already asked, Dawon’s heart overflowed with more questions he wanted to ask Taehan. Each one felt pathetic.

If he had no intention of listening, if he was going to send him back to that hellish cycle, why did he show him a new world? Why did he embrace him so warmly, caress his hands and feet, and gaze at his sleeping face?

But these were futile questions. They were probably meaningless actions to Taehan. It was Dawon’s fault for mistakenly assuming otherwise. He was wrong to think he meant something to Taehan just because he touched his needy body, or comforted him when he cried.

It was the first time anyone had treated him with such kindness, and he mistook it for some kind of promise. The illusion of feeling special was so sweet that he fell into it, oblivious to the fact it was a delusion.

‘Right. I was just a fool.’

He was ashamed of himself for acting childishly and clinging to Taehan last night, swayed by a strange whim. He regretted his pointless words, unable to bear the shame.

Why did he plead, knowing it wouldn’t be accepted, struggle so desperately, and even tear down the walls he had carefully built around his heart, revealing his vulnerable inner self? He was so foolish, so blind to what lay ahead.

There was no reason to ask any more questions, no reason to stay here any longer. Dawon was already miserable enough. He just wanted to run away, anywhere.

“Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

Breaking the long silence, Dawon spoke first. He rose from his seat and headed not towards the stairs leading to the second floor, but towards the front door. With an uncharacteristic look of panic, Taehan grabbed Dawon’s wrist.

“Kid. Listen to me.”

“There’s nothing to listen to. You couldn’t answer my question either.”

“That’s…”

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words, trembling with uncertainty. Dawon hated the part of himself that still hoped Taehan would lie to him, so he shook off Taehan’s hand.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You have nowhere to go. Your pheromones… Where are you going to go like this…?”

That was also true. Dawon had always had nowhere to go. He had spent 14 years painting as instructed by his great-uncle, who had murdered his mother and imprisoned him, simply because he had nowhere else to go. Even though it was true, it angered him. Apparently, some of his pride, which he thought had been completely trampled and extinguished, still remained.

Did it mean he had to suppress his anger because he had nowhere to go? Was his uncontrolled pheromone emission now another problem? Dawon clenched his fists in frustration, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

Emitting pheromones was something he could do without being taught. When he longed for Taehan’s touch, when he yearned for his embrace. Suppressing them, then, must be the opposite. It meant severing his feelings, turning his heart cold.

Although he had already exposed his worn and shabby inner self, Dawon belatedly rebuilt the tattered walls around his heart. The faint scent that had emanated from him vanished completely in that moment.

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”

If he had shown anger or tears, Taehan might have reacted differently. But Dawon’s eyes, fixed on Taehan, were empty. They were more distant and unfamiliar than when they had first met two months ago, when Dawon had appeared at his doorstep.

Since Dawon held no significance for Taehan, Dawon had to look at him as if he were a complete stranger, someone who didn’t matter at all. While Taehan hesitated, Dawon shook off his hand again. Reaching the front door, he realized his shoes weren’t there, but without hesitation, he stepped out of the house barefoot.

It had been a long time since he had felt the direct sunlight, not filtered through a window. The brilliant sunlight felt painful as it pierced his skin, like he was a vampire. The air he breathed, the earth beneath his feet, it all hurt.

‘Right. It doesn’t matter. Nothing’s changed anyway.’

Dawon forced himself to feel numb as he walked. As he crossed Taehan’s garden, he felt frustrated by his slow pace, desperate to escape. But once he passed the gate, he couldn’t help but hesitate.

There was only one place Dawon, who had nowhere to go, could possibly go. The two-story house across the alley. The place where Dawon had stagnated for so long. Now that he was facing it again, his body seemed to stiffen.

He wanted to resign himself to everything, but at the same time, his heart felt constricted. The thought of returning to his old life, of having to churn out copies of paintings under even harsher conditions, was horrifying.

‘I’d rather… No. Let’s just go.’

Dawon, who had almost backed away hesitantly, clenched his fists again. The house had been deserted ever since he left, and even more so after he had removed his paintings and belongings a while ago.

Even if it was an empty and gloomy house, it still had a roof and walls, and some of Dawon’s meager belongings might still be there. Even for a day, or just a few hours, if he could sit alone and gather his thoughts, he felt he might be able to decide what to do next.

Crossing the alley, Dawon noticed the gate of the house across the street was open. With the security system deactivated, it seemed, fortunately, that no one was home.

So, like a fugitive, Dawon returned to his old house. His limping feet traced an unsteady path. The familiar garden and the sound of the front door opening felt strangely eerie, but he attributed it to his heightened nerves.

‘See. No one’s here.’

A cool silence filled the house, and all the lights were off. Footprints, probably from the day his belongings were moved, were scattered haphazardly across the wooden floor.

Past the creaking wooden stairs was the dead end of the second-floor hallway. Opening the door, which resembled a wooden wall, revealed Dawon’s long-time prison. A dark room with drawn curtains, allowing only a sliver of light to enter.

All the work-related items were gone, and a bed sat alone in the now-empty room. As he had guessed, Dawon’s personal belongings seemed to be left untouched. Dawon dragged his weary steps further inside.

Creak. At the moment the door closed behind him, a smell of dust filled the air. A shiver crawled up Dawon’s arms. Sensing a presence outside his field of vision, Dawon realized the source of the unease that had been following him since he entered the house.

“Da, Dawon? You’re here?”

A familiar voice. Slowly turning his head, he saw the silhouette of his second uncle lurking in the corner of the room. His eyes glinted faintly in the darkness as he grinned.

Could there be a worse predicament? It felt like he had walked into a trap. His legs, already weak, froze with instinctive fear, making it difficult to even lift his feet from the floor. This was the person he had desperately wanted to avoid after his pheromones had developed.

‘What was he doing here alone with the lights off? How long has he been here?’

Dawon had observed this house almost every day from across the street, but he had never seen any sign of anyone entering or leaving. Puzzled, Dawon soon realized his mistake. If his second uncle had been waiting for him here all along, never leaving, it would have been impossible for even Dawon to detect his presence.

Could the strange movement he had sensed once beyond these curtains have been his second uncle, and not just his imagination? Frozen with the feeling of being trapped, Dawon couldn’t speak. But his second uncle continued to ramble excitedly.

“Wh, why did it take you so long? I, I’ve been waiting for ages. I, I knew you’d come. My, my brother said you wo, wouldn’t come back here anymore. Bu, but I knew. Th, this is your ho, home. Isn’t it?”

Looking closely, he was holding some clothes in his hand. Beside the door where he stood was Dawon’s wardrobe. Dawon didn’t want to imagine what he had been doing, rummaging through his clothes in his absence.

‘I have to get out of here.’

His mind screamed, but his body wouldn’t obey. His already weak legs were paralyzed by primal fear, making it difficult to even move them.

Meanwhile, his second uncle took one step closer, then another, towards Dawon. His gaze lingered meaningfully on Dawon’s neck and bare feet. Just as Dawon was thinking, ‘Don’t tell me…’, his second uncle leaned in close, his face almost touching his.

“Ugh…!”

Dawon tried to step back, but his knees hit the bed behind him, and he collapsed onto it. With no time to react, his second uncle lowered his head further, burying his nose near Dawon’s crown.

Sniff, sniff, sniff. The wet, disgusting sound that had haunted Dawon’s dreams echoed in the room. Clenching his teeth, Dawon could only endure.

‘How long is he going to do this? I shouldn’t have any scent right now…’

Dawon’s pheromones were completely suppressed, to the extent that even Taehan hadn’t been able to argue otherwise. There was no way any scent could be leaking, yet his second uncle inhaled repeatedly, as if consumed by greed.

How much time passed like this? Finally, his second uncle lifted his nose from Dawon. He hung his head so low his face was hidden, his shoulders shaking erratically.

“Da, Dawon, you…”

When he finally raised his head, the light filtering through the gap in the curtains illuminated his face. He was wearing a chillingly creepy smile. His lips were stretched wide, revealing his yellowed teeth, and his eyes gleamed with a grotesque delight.

“You’ve fi, finally presented as an Om, Omega.”

His second uncle’s words sent Dawon’s heart plummeting to his feet. He averted his gaze and blurted out a denial, as if desperately trying to convince himself.

“What are you talking about? Get away from me.”

But the tremor in his voice betrayed him. As if he hadn’t heard Dawon’s words, his second uncle remained where he was, greedily inhaling the non-existent scent and letting out a gasping laugh.

“He, hehe… Hehehe.”

His second uncle’s breathing grew increasingly ragged. His laughter mingled with his gasps, creating a strange sound, a mixture of laughter and sobs.

“Da, Dawon. I, I knew it all along. I kn, knew you would be like this. Huh? Hehehe.”

Dawon knew he had to get out of there. He tried to push his second uncle away and escape. Normally, Dawon, whose grip was surprisingly strong for his thin frame, would have had no problem pushing him off.

“Ugh, ge, get off me…! ”

But his second uncle, usually sluggish and weak, displayed an unnatural strength, as if possessed. With unbelievable speed, he grabbed both of Dawon’s wrists and pinned them down.

“Hehehe, Da, Dawon. Hu, huuuu, hehehe…”

With his wrists pinned to the bed, Dawon was forced to lie down. He looked up to see his second uncle’s eyes burning with a persistent fire. Dawon’s mind went blank with terror.

“What are you doing? Let go! I said let go of me!”

Dawon thrashed and kicked, desperately trying to shake him off. In his struggles, his knee brushed against the space between his second uncle’s legs. A squishy sensation sent a chill down his spine.

“Haa, ha, Dawon…”

At that moment, his second uncle’s cheeks flushed crimson, and he began to pant. Then, with a strange grimace, he shuddered. A dampness spread from Dawon’s knee, followed by a sickeningly fishy odor.

‘Crazy. He just…’

Dawon’s face paled, frozen in horror. His second uncle, who had just ejaculated without even having an erection, began to chuckle again, as if Dawon’s terrified expression was something delightful.

“Dawon. Ou, our Dawon.”

A strange, new scent began to mingle with the lingering, pungent smell of semen. Looking at his second uncle’s flushed face, Dawon realized this was his pheromone.

A damp, musty, heavy scent spread like mold. It was the most disgusting and repulsive scent he had ever encountered. He hadn’t realized an alpha’s pheromones could be this revolting.

While his mind urged him to push his second uncle away, Dawon couldn’t move, as if bound. Like a prey animal caught in headlights, he couldn’t even blink.

The scent invading his nostrils seemed to be boring into his brain, paralyzing his muscles. All he could do was clench his teeth and fight back the nausea.

“Hehehe, hu, haaaa… Dawon. On, only me.”

“…”

“On, only I knew! Th, that you were my Om, Omega…!”

His second uncle whispered in a voice filled with madness, and began rubbing his damp crotch against Dawon’s knees and calves. The slimy, squishy sensation felt like a giant slug crawling over him.

He hated it. The intense revulsion made him dizzy. All he wanted was for this horrible creature to not touch him. He would rather his body shatter into pieces or explode than be subjected to this.

While Dawon struggled in this hell, his second uncle seemed to grow increasingly aroused. As he fumbled with his buckle, seemingly about to undress, a thought flashed through Dawon’s mind.

‘Should I bite my tongue? Wouldn’t that be better?’

His clenched jaw trembled. It was an impulsive thought, but it quickly consumed him. He had long tried to ignore the fact that death might be less painful than his life.

Something he had desperately clung to, with bloodied hands, for so long seemed to snap. His stubbornness, his lingering attachment, or perhaps, to put it more grandly, the will that had kept him alive.

Dawon’s eyes welled up with tears, blurring his vision with darkness. Just as he opened his lips, lifting the base of his tongue in resignation, he heard the distant sound of footsteps.

Thump, thump. Then came the sound of someone pounding on the studio door, as if trying to break it down. His second uncle, who had been greedily rubbing his groin against Dawon’s legs, flinched at the sound and stopped.

“Wh, who…”

Fumbling to adjust his disheveled pants, his second uncle stammered. At that moment, the studio door, disguised as a wooden wall, was flung open, and the sound of boots grew closer. Before his second uncle could fully straighten up, a large, strong hand grabbed him and threw him against the opposite wall.

“You, you filthy bastard…”

Taehan growled, his voice sharper and more furious than ever.

‘How dare he.’

Seeing the man’s pants damp and disheveled, Taehan felt a surge of murderous intent sharper than ever before. He strode towards the man and hurled him against the far wall.

“Ugh…!”

The man’s body crumpled like paper against the wall. Taehan glared at him with eyes that could freeze the air, then raised his boot. He genuinely considered killing the filthy alpha.

“Kugh, hack, kh…!”

After a couple of stomps to the man’s chest, he coughed weakly. The sight of him writhing in pain like a slaughtered animal did nothing to quell Taehan’s rage, so he stomped him harder.

As the kicks moved towards his neck and face, the second uncle curled up like a pill bug, trying to shield his head with his arms. Taehan immediately reached out, pulled his arms away, and grabbed him by the collar, choking him.

“Gah, guh…”

Gasping for air, the man rolled his eyes, trying to peek over Taehan’s shoulder, seemingly searching for Dawon. The sight further fueled Taehan’s fury.

Still gripping the man’s collar, Taehan rained blows down on his face. Thud, thud. With each dull thud, the man choked and gurgled like an insect, his eyes losing focus.

Blood from Kim Namgyu’s lips and eyes stained Taehan’s fists. Even if the face he held in his hand were crushed flat, it felt like this rage and disgust wouldn’t disappear.

Thinking that beating him to death wouldn’t inflict enough pain, Taehan reached into his jacket pocket. It would be better to stab him somewhere, or cut him. Click. The metallic sound of his switchblade snapping open echoed in the room.

“Director Ryu!”

Gwangwoo’s voice called out from behind him. He must have followed Taehan after noticing his disappearance. He rushed into the room with a look of alarm and grabbed Taehan’s arm.

“C-Calm down. Not now. This will cause serious trouble.”

Gwangwoo rarely questioned Taehan’s decisions. The fact that he was intervening so desperately to stop him meant the situation was serious. No matter how insignificant the man was, killing him was dangerous.

Moreover, dealing with Choi Beomsik’s man without permission would be seen as a provocation against Seo Gihyuk. He could be caught off guard and lose everything in an instant.

While understanding this logically, Taehan couldn’t bring himself to release his grip on the man’s collar. Beyond what was the right decision, the urge to crush this man was overwhelming. Seeing the bulging veins on Taehan’s clenched fist, Gwangwoo added cautiously,

“And… instead of this, you should attend to him…”

Those words brought Taehan back to his senses. He tossed the man aside and turned to see Dawon slumped beside the bed, looking helpless.

His disheveled hair and flimsy pajamas were pitiful. The clear, fiery gaze that Dawon usually held, even when dressed in dirty, ragged clothes, was now empty.

Seeing him like that, Taehan realized he shouldn’t kill this vermin in front of Dawon. Watching someone die wasn’t a pleasant experience. It would be unbearable for Dawon, who already seemed cornered.

“…Kid.”

Taehan approached Dawon as gently as he could. But the moment his fingertips brushed against him, Dawon flinched and pushed Taehan away. When Taehan tried to hold him again, Dawon scooted back on his buttocks, shaking his head violently and expressing his repulsion with his whole body.

“No.”

“…”

“J-Just leave me alone. I hate everything now.”

The poor boy must be feeling intensely betrayed by Taehan. Coupled with the shock of being assaulted by that disgusting man, it was no wonder he was completely out of it. Taehan tried his best not to sound harsh.

“Okay. I understand. Just come here.”

When Taehan grabbed his wrist, Dawon struggled more violently. When his attempts to pull his arm free failed, he thrashed his legs, kicking at Taehan.

“N-No. Let go. Let go of me!”

Looking at Dawon’s feet kicking at him, Taehan was overcome by a complex mix of emotions. Dawon’s feet, which had rested so delicately on his bed last night, were now covered in dirt. There were scratches all over them from walking barefoot on the road.

Taehan wanted to brush off the dirt and gently hold those feet. He wanted to caress them like he did last night when Dawon was chattering away.

‘Damn it. This is not the time for such thoughts.’

Taehan didn’t know what to call these emotions. He had survived in a world as filthy as a mud pit for over thirty years, but he had never lived like a proper human being, making him indifferent and ignorant of human feelings.

He didn’t understand why he felt a tearing pain in his chest, why the back of his head felt stiff, or why he tasted blood in his mouth. He just assumed it was a form of the rage he always felt. He was indeed angry, after all.

Right now, keeping Dawon by his side felt like the most important thing to Taehan. If he desired something this intensely, it couldn’t be wrong.

They had to be together. It didn’t matter who was eyeing Dawon, or even if Dawon himself didn’t want it. It frustrated him that Dawon acted like he didn’t understand that.

The image of Dawon leaving him and crossing the street was still vivid in his mind. The way his small figure receded and disappeared. If he saw that again, he felt like he would suffocate.

“No. Please, please just…”

Dawon sobbed and pleaded, as if he couldn’t bear being held by Taehan. Seeing that, Taehan lost his last shred of patience.

“You won’t listen to reason, then.”

Taehan lifted the struggling Dawon onto his shoulder. As soon as Dawon’s small body was hoisted up, he thrashed even more violently, as if captured by a monster. His thin arms and legs flailed, trying to push Taehan away.

Swallowing his rising anger, Taehan tightened his grip around Dawon’s waist, suppressing his struggles. As he turned towards the door to leave, a raspy voice stopped him.

“D-Dawon!”

Turning around, Taehan saw Kim Namgyu, his face bloodied and bruised, crawling towards them. He looked desperate to reach Dawon.

His persistence was so repulsive that Taehan’s carefully maintained composure shattered. He approached the prone man and raised his boot again, stomping on his neck, the back of his head, and his shoulders.

“Argh! Ugh, huh…”

“D-Director Ryu. Stop. Stop it.”

Gwangwoo, struggling to pull the man away from the floor, stepped in front of Taehan again. Only after being forcibly separated from his target did Taehan grasp the situation.

Dawon, draped over his shoulder, was trembling with fear and tension, while Gwangwoo wore a troubled expression. Taehan knew it was time to regain control.

“I’ll leave for now. Let’s leave this bastard here.”

He couldn’t think straight. He just wanted to hide Dawon somewhere, anywhere where no one could see him. Dealing with the man was something he’d take care of later.

Taehan shoved Kim Namgyu with his boot, pushing him against the farthest wall of the room, then gave him one last, hard stomp. While the man was incapacitated, he slipped out of the room and examined the doorknob hidden within the wooden wall.

“Ha.”

As expected, the lock was on the outside. Grinding his teeth at the thought of them locking Dawon behind this wall every day, Taehan bolted the door shut.

As he started down the stairs, he heard Kim Namgyu’s screams and the sounds of him thrashing around, trapped in the room. The sounds of him banging on the door followed.

“Aaagh! No! Noooo!”

Dawon, still held over Taehan’s shoulder, covered his ears with his hands, as if in pain. But that was all. He didn’t struggle like he did initially. He just hung limp, resigned.

Taehan didn’t notice that Dawon’s docility was a bad sign. He was too preoccupied with escaping this dreadful house.

“Dawon!”

Just as Taehan stepped out the front door and started across the garden, the man’s bloodcurdling scream echoed unusually loudly. The moment he felt a sense of unease at the voice that seemed to come from right beside him, a loud crash resounded.

“Agh… Uh, kh…”

A long scream ended with a strange sound, followed by the pungent smell of blood. Dawon, who had been silently looking back over Taehan’s shoulder, let out a stifled moan.

“Ah, aah…”

Startled, Taehan set Dawon down. His legs gave way, and he slumped to the ground. His body was rigid with fear, his face pale, almost blue. Like someone who had witnessed something horrific.

Taehan turned and looked up at the second floor. The studio window, where he had left the man, was flung open, the curtains billowing wildly. A chill ran down his spine as he looked down.

“Ugh…”

Even Taehan, accustomed to the sight of death, couldn’t help but grimace at the scene before him. Kim Namgyu, apparently in pursuit of Dawon, had fallen from the second-floor window and lay sprawled on the ground. The very spot where Dawon had jumped and broken his ankle ten years ago.

After that escape attempt, the uncles had embedded jagged garden rocks into the ground below to prevent Dawon from jumping out the window again.

Whether he had forgotten that in his desperation, or simply hadn’t known, the man had fallen onto the rocks, his body mangled horrifically. His head was caved in, his neck broken, his bloodied and swollen face twisted at a grotesque angle from his body.

Even in that state, the man’s wide-open eyes were fixed on Dawon. Dawon’s eyes, having witnessed everything, darted back and forth, unable to settle on anything.

“Uh, u-aah…”

A weak moan escaped his blue-tinged lips. It seemed as if Dawon’s spirit, trapped for so long in the dark room upstairs, had shattered along with the man’s body against the bloodstained rocks.

It had been a week since Kwon Dawon disappeared. With their performing bear gone, the humans holding the whips couldn’t hide their frustration.

― Is there still no news of that… artist?

― CEO Seo. About that… I’m looking into it, but…

In Seo Gihyuk’s reception room, Choi Beomsik sat on the sofa, hunched over, unlike his usual confident posture. He trailed off awkwardly at Seo Gihyuk’s prodding.

― Is simply looking into it enough? There needs to be results. Moreover, this happened due to your negligence, President Choi. According to my men, it seems like someone under your command did this.

― Oh, it’s a misunderstanding. I’m not just saying this, but that guy is really not capable of something like this.

― I’ve received reports that he hasn’t been seen since the day Mr. Kwon Dawon disappeared. It’s a rather suspicious circumstance, isn’t it? Or… were you directly involved, President Choi?

― No! That’s… that’s absurd. I’m going crazy myself. Where did that bastard disappear to, causing me all this trouble…

Listening to their conversation through the CCTV installed in the reception room, Taehan stifled a bitter laugh. The man’s death from the fall was an unexpected variable, but Taehan had done his best to clean it up.

Immediately after Kim Namgyu’s death, Taehan collected his phone and credit cards and created a trail suggesting he had used them while traveling to a nearby port city. The last transaction on the card was for two tickets on a ship frequently used by illegal immigrants.

The body had long since sunk to the bottom of the sea, but at least on record, it would appear as if Kim Namgyu had boarded a ship and left with Dawon on the same day.

― I suspect Director Ryu. Wasn’t he the one protecting that Kwon Dawon kid in the first place? I don’t understand why he’s playing the victim now.

Choi Beomsik grumbled as if he were the wronged party. Right after fabricating Kim Namgyu’s escape route, Taehan had taken the initiative to confront Choi Beomsik, demanding to know where he had taken Dawon.

With Kim Namgyu’s whereabouts unknown, and if Taehan’s hunch was correct, Choi Beomsik was the one who had contacted Dawon secretly that day, so he couldn’t even offer a proper rebuttal.

― Besides, things around him are suspicious. Director Ryu hasn’t been seen at that house for days, and unfamiliar people have been coming and going. They look like gangsters.

― Those people you saw, President Choi, are probably the ones I sent. To look into things a bit. Ah, not to keep an eye on you, President Choi. It’s just that Ryu Taehan has been acting suspiciously lately.

Normally, Seo Gihyuk would have been actively involved in finding Kim Namgyu and Dawon, but he was probably too busy keeping tabs on Taehan.

― That ungrateful bastard is poking around everywhere… Well, his intentions are obvious. He’s just a rat in a trap. I’m cutting off his funding and stepping on all his underlings.

Seo Gihyuk seemed to be finally catching on to the “preparations” Taehan had been making. With no time left to proceed discreetly, Taehan was hastily putting his affairs in order.

Contrary to his bluster, Taehan had already liquidated his most valuable assets. He had, however, dismissed most of his men. There was no reason to keep unnecessary baggage around now that things had come to a head.

― In this business, you have to crush someone completely when you step on them. It’s a cruel world, but sometimes you have to get your hands dirty. Huh? The CEO position isn’t that easy to maintain, you know.

― Ah, y-yes, of course.

Seo Gihyuk, as usual, boasted about Taehan’s actions as if they were his own. As always when he bragged, he was probably enjoying the way Choi Beomsik, who knew nothing, was groveling before him with a mix of awe and fear.

― Anyway, I have a plan for that Seo Gihyuk.

― A plan… Is it related to what you asked me to do last time?

― Oh my. Someone might hear us. Quietly. President Choi, you’re in the same boat now, so you have to be careful.

It was amusing to see them whispering their plot against him, oblivious to the fact that Taehan himself was listening. After watching their little farce, Taehan sighed and removed the earpiece as the two left the reception room.

“How are things on your end? Any changes?”

Gwangwoo, who was driving, asked quietly, observing Taehan’s expression. Taehan slowly shook his head.

“No. Just as I expected. We can respond as planned.”

“Anything else you need me to do?”

“I need to contact New York. I need to make sure the preparations are going smoothly… Ah. There’s the time difference. It must be the middle of the night there.”

Taehan, about to press the call button, paused and gave a wry smile. It was a minor slip-up, but since he rarely faltered when it came to work, even this small lapse was unusual for him.

“What about the hotel? Everything alright?”

“Yes. No changes.”

Even amidst his self-disgust, Taehan checked on the thing that felt most important to him right now. Even after Gwangwoo’s answer, he switched on the CCTV feed from another channel, confirming with his own eyes the quiet hallway before finally relaxing.

“Good. Haa… I’m tired.”

Taehan mumbled in a rough voice. He had spent the past week preparing to leave the organization, and it had been hectic. It hadn’t been long since he made up his mind after his heat with Dawon, but since things had turned out this way, he had to move faster.

Gangs weren’t kind or reasonable. When someone of a certain rank tried to leave, either the organization or the deserter had to be prepared to be destroyed. Of course, Taehan had chosen to destroy the organization.

It felt strange to shatter something he had once aimed to possess, but he didn’t have time for sentimentality. Considering how abruptly his plans had changed, all the preparations were progressing quickly. It was going smoothly, yet Taehan had been in a foul mood for days. He was more mentally exhausted than physically.

“It’s understandable. You haven’t slept properly for a week.”

Gwangwoo, who spoke, also had dark circles under his eyes. Only two people, including Gwangwoo, remained under Taehan’s command, and Gwangwoo had to handle most of the errands that would normally have been delegated to lower-ranking members.

Gwangwoo had been Taehan’s right-hand man for over a decade. Taehan trusted him but rarely expressed any further sentiment. Perhaps the chaotic situation had softened him. Taehan said something uncharacteristic of him,

“It must be hard on you too. Suddenly having so much work. You must have had your own goals in this life… and now it’s all messed up.”

Gwangwoo looked surprised by Taehan’s words, but then replied steadily,

“Not at all. I don’t care about anything else as long as I can see Seochang crumble. I know it’s something I could never have dreamed of without you, Director Ryu. Your will is my will.”

“You’re even flattering me now. You’re probably the one who’s been most inconvenienced by my erratic behavior lately.”

“I’m being sincere. To be honest, I’m secretly relieved that I can see a way out of this life. I’m part of this organization, and I wasn’t without ambition, but…”

Gwangwoo looked down at the ring on his ring finger, then added shyly, a look that didn’t suit his rugged face,

“Now that I’m married, now that I have someone by my side, I’ve been wondering what the point of all this is. Don’t they say love changes people?”

“…”

“It must be difficult for both of you right now, but I’m also happy to see you changing, Director Ryu. Someday, he’ll understand your intentions. And then… you’ll be able to find happiness too…”

Taehan, who had been listening to him with an indifferent expression, suddenly changed his look.

‘What does he mean?’

Could he possibly mean that Taehan was in love with that kid? Gwangwoo was usually good at reading Taehan’s mind, but this time, he seemed to have made a ridiculous assumption. Words like love and happiness didn’t suit Taehan.

“Ah, I, I’ve overstepped my boundaries. I apologize.”

Seeing Taehan frown, Gwangwoo quickly ended the conversation. Even upon further reflection, Taehan found his words disconcerting and considered reprimanding him, but this wasn’t the time to argue over such trivial matters.

In fact, it was an understandable misunderstanding. If this were a gamble, Taehan would have realized that he was betting everything he had on that kid. And if he were a third-party observer, he might have made the same assumption as Gwangwoo.

Taehan definitely felt an indescribably intense emotion towards Dawon. Just imagining someone harming Dawon, or Dawon disappearing, made his blood run cold and boil like lava at the same time.

But this probably wasn’t love. His current situation, his emotions, were far from beautiful or desirable. They were especially far from happiness.

The car carrying the two men headed towards a building on the outskirts of the city. The hotel located in the upper floors of the building was funded by Guyeong Industries, and its shares were now transferred to Taehan.

Since the organization wasn’t even aware that this was a Guyeong asset, no one would know that Taehan had influence here. That’s why Taehan had chosen this place first to hide Dawon.

“Boss, you’re here.”

“Yeah. Did he eat?”

As they reached the hallway where the suite was located, Hammer, who was on guard duty, bowed. Taehan’s abrupt question wasn’t about whether Hammer himself had eaten.

“Oh, he hasn’t touched his food today. He at least pretended to eat until yesterday, but I don’t know why he’s sulking again.”

Hammer answered apologetically. Taehan’s face hardened at his words. Suppressing the urge to lash out, Taehan gestured to Gwangwoo and Hammer.

“Alright, step back.”

Taehan strode quickly down the hallway. He was glad the thick carpet muffled his agitated footsteps. He was on edge, almost to a foolish degree.

Opening the hotel room door, he saw the untouched food on the living room table. Clenching his jaw, Taehan headed to the bedroom. Dawon, as pale as the pristine white bedding, sat on the bed.

“Why didn’t you eat again?”

There was no answer. Dawon must have sensed his arrival, but he didn’t even flinch. Expecting this reaction, Taehan went straight to him.

“I’m asking you, Kid.”

Even when spoken to directly, Dawon remained silent. Swallowing his rising frustration, Taehan grabbed Dawon’s shoulders, trying to meet his gaze. The weight he had gained was gone, leaving only thin bones and skin.

“Are you deaf? I asked why you skipped meals.”

“…I didn’t want to eat.”

Perhaps sensing that Taehan wouldn’t let go until he got an answer, Dawon finally mumbled, his voice barely audible, without meeting Taehan’s eyes. His downcast eyes held a desolate emptiness, his lips twitching slightly, but his face otherwise expressionless.

Faced with Dawon acting like an empty doll, Taehan felt a frustration and emptiness he had never experienced before. This was why he felt so dejected, so pained.

It had been a week since he brought Dawon to the hotel room. Without a single crack, without a sliver of light, Dawon’s heart had completely shut down.

The day of the incident, Taehan had instructed Gwangwoo to dispose of Kim Namgyu’s body and brought Dawon to this hotel. Even then, Dawon had been strangely limp, but Taehan had thought it was temporary.

After calling in a member of the organization to guard Dawon in the next room, Taehan immediately went out to handle the situation. Time was short, so he had to hurry everything along, running around day and night for three days.

On his way back to the hotel, finally having some free time, Taehan heard unexpected news. Dawon hadn’t eaten anything for those three days. Even after berating Gwangwoo and Hammer for not telling him sooner, Taehan thought he could approach Dawon calmly.

‘Right. He must be in shock. It’s only natural.’

Taehan knew he had to comfort Dawon. To be honest, he thought it wouldn’t be difficult. As he opened the hotel room door, Taehan naively recalled Dawon from their days in the bed at the two-story house. The way he used to greet him like a puppy waiting for its owner.

During those three days of cleaning up Kim Namgyu’s death and making preparations for the future, Taehan had constantly longed for Dawon. Although he had never drawn anything, he had traced the image of Dawon in his memory so vividly that he felt he could sketch him perfectly if someone handed him a pencil and paper.

〈Kid.〉

But the room was filled with a cold silence. The moment he stepped further inside and found Dawon, Taehan unconsciously held his breath.

Dawon looked completely different from how he remembered him. His once rosy cheeks were pale and hollow, his thin wrists and ankles as gaunt as winter branches.

All Taehan could sense from him was helplessness and despair. Although he had encountered countless people struggling at the bottom of their lives, it was rare to see such deep pain in someone’s expression.

Before Taehan could even ask why he hadn’t eaten or how he was doing, Dawon opened his parched lips. As if he had been waiting for this moment, he spoke without meeting Taehan’s eyes.

〈I want to leave. Let me go.〉

Taehan’s heart throbbed painfully. The sight of Dawon so frail was heartbreaking enough, but hearing him reject him in such a weary voice was even more agonizing.

Dawon acted as if the past few days had been more painful than the 14 years of confinement in the studio. What could Taehan possibly say to him?

Taehan was also desperately searching for a way out of this mess, and his preparations were underway. But he was afraid that if he made a rash promise and things went wrong, Dawon, already consumed by betrayal and disgust, would crumble completely.

〈No. You can’t leave.〉

In the end, those were the only words Taehan could utter. Because that was the clearest truth to him right now. He turned away from Dawon to calm himself down, and his eyes fell on the untouched room service food on the table.

Instead of cooling down, a hot lump rose in Taehan’s throat. He picked up the bowl of cold soup and went to Dawon.

〈Eat.〉

At the commanding tone, Dawon’s lips tightened further. Taehan sighed and grabbed his chin.

〈If you prefer me to force-feed you, I will.〉

With just a slight exertion of force, Dawon’s weak lips parted easily. The sight of him so pale and helpless made Taehan’s heart ache, but unable to express sadness, he simply put on an angry expression.

Dawon swallowed the soup that was poured into his mouth. With each spoonful, the resentment in his eyes grew stronger. As some of the soup dribbled down his chin, Dawon shuddered and said,

〈Let go. I’ll do it myself.〉

As soon as Taehan released him, Dawon grabbed the spoon and ate half of the soup in the bowl. His movements were rough and careless, as if he were getting rid of something unpleasant.

With a loud clank, Dawon put down the spoon, climbed back onto the bed, and pulled the covers over his head. His curled-up body looked no bigger than a handful. That small lump weighed incredibly heavily on Taehan’s chest.

He wanted to pull back the covers and look at Dawon’s face, but he felt like he would lose control and explode in anger. He suppressed the tightness in his chest, swallowing it down, and left the room.

‘I just need to keep him here. If he stays by my side, everything else will get better.’

Just as his seemingly ruined plan seemed to be coming together, he believed Dawon’s heart would heal too. Indeed, after that day, Dawon showed signs of eating a little.

Even with his mind racing, Taehan thought about how to appease Dawon. He had left chocolates, a sketchbook, and art pencils in the hotel room after Dawon fell asleep the day before.

He was certain Dawon liked chocolates. He wasn’t sure if Dawon enjoyed drawing, but since he had filled an old notebook with drawings of Taehan using a stiff pencil, Taehan thought that having something to doodle with would lessen his boredom and sadness.

But it seemed Taehan’s hopes were foolish. Dawon’s condition had worsened overnight. He hadn’t realized how much it would bother him that someone wasn’t eating. He was anxious that this small boy might starve to death.

“Kid. How long are you going to keep this up?”

“…”

“What will it take for you to eat properly?”

After holding Dawon’s averted face for a while, Taehan asked sharply. Despite the harsh tone, it was a pathetic question. Dawon’s pale lips parted a couple of times before he repeated the same words.

“Let me go.”

“…”

“I don’t want to stay here.”

At those words, Taehan’s grip tightened on Dawon’s hand, then he forced himself to loosen it, repeating the motion.

“You’ll leave. Soon. So just… a little longer…”

Feeling that since he was already pathetic, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more so, Taehan muttered. He wanted to use his possibly successful plan as an excuse, whether for himself or for Dawon.

Before Taehan could finish, Dawon turned to look at him. His dark, unreadable eyes were filled with a chilling resentment directed solely at Taehan.

“You’ll let me go soon? Where will you send me? Where should I go and paint now?”

Did he take the sketchbook Taehan brought as a sign of that? While Taehan hesitated, searching for an answer, Dawon continued his sharp words.

“Did you bring me here because you’re tired of sharing me with my great-uncle? Just tell me. My arm is healed now. How many paintings do I need to make? Whose paintings this time?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then it’s not paintings, it’s something else? What do you want me to do? Stocks? Gambling?”

“It’s… not like that.”

With his frail body, Dawon bristled with defiance. Taehan felt like he would go crazy with pity for him, yet at the same time, he was pierced by the sharp thorns Dawon threw at him.

Amidst the tangled pain, Taehan repeated the same answer. Perhaps dissatisfied with the response, Dawon’s face contorted as he tried to unbutton his pajama top.

“I was naive. Of course. You wouldn’t bring an Omega to a room like this to make him paint.”

His thin wrists trembled, making it difficult to even unbutton his shirt. Through the gap in his pajamas, his bony chest was visible. Taehan stopped him with a pained voice.

“Stop.”