Underpainting Chapter 8.1 - Mosaic (1)

When Taehan opened his eyes the next morning, he saw Dawon curled up in his arms, asleep, as if trying to avoid any contact.

He felt a brief sense of relief at having Dawon by his side, but that shallow comfort soon shattered. His eyes fell upon Dawon’s ravaged body. Bite marks, bruises from being bound and pressed down hard, covered the pale skin. Dried bodily fluids stained him, a truly wretched sight.

Taehan hesitantly reached out a trembling hand towards Dawon. The sudden tensing of the delicate skin seemed to confirm that the memories of the previous night were all too real.

“…What have I done?”

His breath was heavy. His chest felt constricted with unresolvable emotions. He had mocked Dawon, saying what did it matter if he added to his regrets, but only a day later, it was Taehan who was deeply regretting the situation.

Why had he committed such a painful act? What had he even wanted in the first place, to be seized by such a cruel impulse?

Without finding an answer, Taehan stared down at the consequences of his actions. He had always lived his life in perfect control, confident in his ability to suppress his impulses. But everything seemed to go wrong when it came to Dawon.

He hadn’t known he was so clumsy a human being. In fact, even the term “clumsy” felt too generous. Taehan felt like a monstrous creature. He hadn’t felt this much self-loathing even the morning after he’d killed someone for the first time.

“Haah…”

Letting out a bitter sigh, Taehan carried Dawon to the bathroom. He wasn’t so shameless as to believe that washing away the stains would erase his wrongdoing, but he couldn’t bear to leave Dawon in that pitiful state.

Though he washed him carefully, Dawon seemed to regain consciousness in the bathroom. The slight twitching of his eyelids, the way he seemed to register Taehan’s touch, made it clear.

Taehan waited with bated breath for the moment Dawon would open his eyes and push him away. He was prepared to be pushed away, to be condemned. Perhaps then, he might have a chance to apologize.

However, Dawon never opened his eyes, even as Taehan carried his clean, dry body back to the bed. It meant that he didn’t even want to look at him, let alone speak to him.

‘Of course he wouldn’t.’

Taehan looked down at Dawon with a bitter, miserable feeling and covered him with a fresh blanket. He wished he could stay there indefinitely, waiting for Dawon to open his eyes and look at him.

It was partly guilt, but more than that, a fear that if he took his eyes off Dawon, even for a moment, the feather-light boy would disappear somewhere.

Of course, that was a needless worry. It was nearly impossible for Dawon to escape. The boy, who had barely experienced the outside world, had been brought to the hotel in his pajamas, without shoes.

Their room was at the farthest end of the hallway from the elevators leading to the lobby, and Taehan had requested the hotel vacate all five rooms on that floor. The only people passing through the hallway were Taehan’s entourage and the bellboy bringing room service.

The CCTV camera in the hallway was always fixed on Dawon’s door. Taehan constantly checked the feed, and Mangchi was on standby in the next room, keeping watch over Dawon in case of any unforeseen circumstances.

Even though he knew there was nothing to worry about, Taehan hesitated for a long time. The sight of Dawon’s slender ankles, marked with his handprints, haunted him, stabbing at his heart.

‘I have to go. I have things to do.’

With a heavy heart, Taehan dressed in his suit and left the room. His appearance was as sharp as ever, but even while working, his mind was filled with thoughts of Dawon.

This state of distraction continued for three days. Every time he thought of Dawon, he was consumed by regret and worry, yet he couldn’t stop thinking.

Taehan, who abhorred inefficiency, even disrupted his schedule during those three days, returning to the hotel between tasks to check on Dawon. Each time, Dawon was asleep, buried under the covers, and Taehan had to leave for his next appointment with disappointment and anxiety.

‘Is he unwell? It’s understandable, considering what he went through. Or maybe he’s just pretending to sleep. Because he doesn’t want to see me.’

According to Mangchi, who occasionally checked on Dawon while Taehan was away, Dawon’s condition didn’t seem good. He was barely eating, and his expression was gloomy.

Taehan racked his brains for a way to appease Dawon. He should have considered Dawon’s feelings before he did such a thing. He was like someone trying to gather spilled water, fretting belatedly.

Providing the pencils and sketchbook seemed to have been a thoughtless mistake, so he needed to think of something else. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come up with a good solution.

When Dawon first came to him, he’d shown delight, his eyes sparkling even when Taehan showed him boring, trivial things. Now, no matter how precious a gift he offered, Taehan doubted Dawon would ever make that expression again.

It was a situation entirely of his own making, yet it was frustrating. Taehan felt like he could give Dawon the whole world. In fact, he planned to.

“Mr. Ryu. We received a call from Mr. Song’s office regarding the passport. The groundwork is complete, and they say they can produce it as soon as they have Mr. Kwon Dawon’s photo.”

Taehan nodded in relief as he listened to Gwangwoo’s report on his way back to the hotel after dinner with Prosecutor Shin. Creating new identities for the two of them was one of Taehan’s top priorities.

The reason Taehan was running around so frantically these days was not only to tie up loose ends from the past but also to prepare for the future. Once everything was settled, Taehan planned to leave the country with Dawon.

It wasn’t a vague escape. He was meticulously preparing the best possible environment for Dawon to enjoy all the opportunities and possibilities he deserved.

“A photo… Right. Tell them I’ll send it soon.”

Would Dawon’s heart soften if he told him he was going to take him to a new world where no one knew him and where he could do anything? It was something Taehan had been pondering since he first brought Dawon to the hotel, but he hadn’t even broached the subject yet.

He was afraid of ruining things by speaking prematurely. Or, to be more honest, he was more afraid of Dawon rejecting the future he was preparing with him.

‘Should I bring it up while asking him to take a photo? But what if he says no…then…’

Even if Dawon refused to go with him, Taehan had no intention of changing his plans. The fact that this would likely distress Dawon further weighed heavily on his mind.

The car arrived at the hotel parking lot. He usually had Mangchi check on Dawon before he went to his room, but he’d forgotten in his preoccupation.

“Oh, Mr. Ryu. You’re here?”

Mangchi, who had been looking down the hallway, noticed Taehan and quickly bowed his head. A glance inside his room revealed the CCTV feed of Dawon’s door playing on the screen. Reassured that Mangchi wasn’t neglecting his duties, Taehan opened the door to the suite where Dawon was staying.

“Ah…”

Contrary to his expectation of finding Dawon buried under the covers, the boy was awkwardly standing near the living area of the suite. He looked startled by Taehan’s entrance.

While he may have genuinely been asleep sometimes, it seemed that Dawon had mostly been feigning sleep during Taehan’s visits over the past three days. The clever boy had likely figured out that Taehan often arrived shortly after Mangchi checked on him.

He would hide under the covers just in time to avoid Taehan, but this time, Taehan appeared without warning, catching him off guard.

Dawon limped unsteadily towards the bedroom. Taehan felt a sudden urge to embrace him, but he suppressed it, fearing he might worsen the situation.

“Take your time, Kid. I won’t do anything.”

At those words, Dawon’s pace noticeably quickened, as if even more flustered. He was in such a hurry that he tripped over his slippers and stumbled badly as he neared the bed.

Alarmed, Taehan quickly chased after him and grabbed his wrist. As soon as Dawon regained his balance, he flinched and tried to pull his wrist free.

Surprised by how tense the frail body had become, Taehan unconsciously released his pheromones. It was a gentle, enveloping scent, devoid of any lewd or coercive intent.

However, Dawon didn’t react to the pheromones at all. He simply averted his gaze, his head bowed, desperately trying to free his wrist. Disheartened, Taehan felt a chilling sense of unease.

‘Why can’t I smell any scent from him?’

Come to think of it, Taehan hadn’t sensed Dawon’s scent in this room for a while. Even if he had learned to control his pheromones, it was unusual for him to completely mask his scent, especially when deeply asleep or in such close proximity to an alpha’s pheromones.

‘Is something wrong with him?’

Taehan’s heart sank. Two days ago, when he embraced Dawon, he had poured out an overwhelming amount of pheromones, almost violently. Having gone through that in a weakened state, it wouldn’t be strange if Dawon’s pheromone balance was disrupted.

Taehan carefully examined Dawon. His expression wasn’t as vacant as Mangchi had described. Although he avoided eye contact and kept his lips tightly pressed together, his eyes gleamed as if deep in thought. It seemed better than the blank expression he’d been wearing.

However, it was clear that his physical condition was poor. His limbs were still thin, and his cheeks were pale, almost bluish. It seemed like he needed medical attention.

With his head spinning with worry, Taehan covered Dawon, who was sitting on the bed, with the blanket and went out into the hallway. As soon as Gwangwoo, who was waiting there, looked at him, he gave instructions in a hurried, almost breathless voice.

“Dr. Park. Get Dr. Park here.”

“Y-you mean the doctor?”

“Yes. As quickly as possible. Hurry.”

Gwangwoo seemed confused, as Taehan had been careful to keep Dawon’s presence here a secret. Dr. Park was also affiliated with the organization, so calling him could be risky.

‘It doesn’t matter. Dr. Park is discreet. And he’s suffered a lot at the hands of Seo Gihyuk. Even if he weren’t… Haah. But why isn’t he here yet?’

At that moment, Dawon’s safety was more urgent than the risk of his plans being jeopardized. At some point, Dawon had become less a part of his plan and more the plan itself.

The tens of minutes waiting for Dr. Park felt agonizingly long. Dawon simply stared out the window, not glancing at Taehan once, and Taehan’s heart burned with anxiety.

When Dr. Park finally arrived, he seemed startled by the sight of Dawon curled up. He then glanced at Taehan with a hint of reproach in his eyes.

He had suspected Dawon was an omega since he first met him. He had seemed about to tell Dawon directly a few times, but Taehan had always stopped him. Back then, he’d thought it would be easier to control Dawon if he remained unaware until his sudden presentation.

“Uh… Mr. Dawon. How have you been?”

Dawon acknowledged the greeting with a glance but didn’t reply. He’d often remained silent like a clam when receiving treatment for his arm, so it wasn’t particularly unusual. However, Dr. Park’s expression was grave.

Despite his serious demeanor, the examination itself was routine. He listened to Dawon’s chest, drew some blood for tests, and advised him to eat properly even if he had no appetite.

Had a routine medical procedure ever felt so precarious and nerve-wracking? Unable to contain his anxiety, Taehan followed Dr. Park as he left the room.

“Dr. Park. Wait a moment. Is he…is he very ill? Does he have some serious disease?”

Dr. Park gave a subtle look at Taehan’s agitated state. He seemed puzzled by this unfamiliar behavior, yet also as if the situation made a certain kind of sense.

“No. His nutritional state seems quite poor, but the pheromone issue isn’t likely due to an illness.”

“Then…what’s the problem? Why…?”

“Don’t worry too much. I’ll let you know once the test results are out. They should be ready by tomorrow.”

Taehan tried to calm himself at Dr. Park’s composed reply. He still had more questions, so he held onto the doctor, hesitating for a moment.

“Dr. Park. And… his right leg.”

Dr. Park looked even more surprised at the question Taehan finally managed to ask. The day he brought Dawon to the clinic after breaking his arm, it was Dr. Park who had first mentioned Dawon’s leg.

When he’d asked if he should examine Dawon’s leg as well, Taehan had curtly replied in a cold, indifferent tone:

‘That’s fine.’

Back then, Taehan had thought Dr. Park was wasting his breath. He’d been intrigued by the way Dawon walked, but hadn’t seen any need to examine the leg that seemed already broken and set, as if frozen in time. How arrogant he’d been, ignorant of what lay ahead.

Now, just looking at Dawon’s feet pained Taehan. He wished he could go back in time and retract his words.

“Can’t it be healed? If we take an X-ray, or run some tests, wouldn’t there be a way?”

Knowing how pathetic he must seem now, Taehan asked, clutching at straws. Unfortunately, Dr. Park slowly shook his head.

“Well, it seems the malunion in his ankle has been there for a long time, so I’m not sure. I wouldn’t recommend taking an X-ray in his current state. Let’s wait for the test results first. That’s the most pressing matter.”

“…I see.”

To the clearly disappointed Taehan, Dr. Park added, with hesitant emphasis:

“Mr. Ryu… please take good care of him.”

It was a conventional sentiment, but there was a certain weight to his voice. Taehan felt a strange premonition at that moment, but he didn’t yet know what that unsettling feeling portended.

‘…He’s gone.’

At the sound of Taehan leaving the room early in the morning, Dawon cautiously sat up, having been hiding under the covers. His back still ached, and his body was sore all over, but he had to hurry.

‘He might come back soon. I need to check everything before then.’

Usually, Taehan wouldn’t return until he was completely done with his outings, but for the past three days, he’d been acting strangely, repeatedly visiting the hotel room, looking around, and then leaving again.

It wasn’t hard to guess that Taehan’s visits were to check on him. He always stood by Dawon’s bed for a long time before turning back, suggesting no other reason.

So Dawon had made a point of hiding under the covers while Taehan was in the room, only getting up after he left. He didn’t want to face him right now.

‘This room is needlessly large. How troublesome.’

Dawon left the bedroom, which he’d already searched yesterday, and headed towards the living area of the suite. The thick carpet muffled his footsteps, but he still walked carefully, making sure not to drag his slippers. Mangchi was in the room next door, to the left of Dawon’s.

Unlike the bedroom, which contained only a bed, a small empty chest of drawers, and a phone, the living area had plenty to examine. After checking the desk drawers and the cabinet near the minibar, Dawon opened the closet doors.

Taehan’s suits, shirts, and ties hung neatly on the left side of the closet. They were only a selection from the ones in the two-story house’s closet, but it was still a well-stocked collection. In contrast, the other side of the closet held only two sets of Dawon’s pajamas.

The clothes Dawon originally owned were worn out, and the new ones he’d worn at Taehan’s house had all been bought by him. So, their disposal was up to Taehan, but the closet, which seemed to reflect Taehan’s intention of never letting Dawon out, irritated him.

‘Are there really no shoes?’

Dawon had been barefoot since he ran out of the two-story house. He’d been wearing slippers the entire time, and yesterday afternoon, he’d abruptly asked Mangchi, who had come to check if he was eating properly:

〈Where are my shoes?〉

Mangchi was startled by Dawon’s question. He hadn’t expected Dawon, who had remained silent since arriving at the hotel, to suddenly speak.

〈Whoa, what the… I thought your tongue got cut off or somethin’. Haven’t forgotten how to talk, huh?〉

〈Are there no shoes for me? These slippers are uncomfortable.〉

Dawon persistently repeated the same question. Mangchi grimaced and shook his head.

〈The nerve of this kid. There aren’t any, you punk. And don’t get any funny ideas. You can’t get out of here anyway. I’m watching you with my eyes wide open, and there’s a CCTV right in front of your door, so if you try anything stupid, you’ll get caught red-handed. Got it?〉

The slippers were uncomfortable because of his bad leg, but it had been a test question anyway. Dawon gleaned useful information from Mangchi’s agitated response.

‘So there is a CCTV.’

As Dawon mentally traced the layout of the hallway outside his room, Mangchi clicked his tongue and nagged.

〈So stop messing around and eat your food properly. Huh? Mr. Ryu is giving me such a hard time because you’re starving… Haah. In my old age, I’m playing babysitter, for crying out loud.〉

Dawon felt a slight pang of sympathy for the shaking head, but he replied indifferently:

〈Then leave. I won’t eat if you’re watching.〉

Annoyed, Mangchi clenched his fists, but since Dawon had never eaten while he was watching, he gritted his teeth and retreated to the next room.

Knowing Mangchi would nag him again if he saw the untouched food, Dawon waited for him to leave and then took small portions of rice and side dishes, flushing them down the toilet. He knew it was wrong, but he genuinely had no appetite.

It had been like this since he arrived, but it had gotten worse in the past few days. It was more than just a lack of appetite; even the smell of food made him nauseous. Something in his body felt seriously wrong.

‘It doesn’t matter. I just need to endure it for a little while.’

Having barely eaten anything today as well, Dawon continued rummaging through the closet, feeling slightly dizzy. When he opened the bottom drawer, he found a small bag.

The black leather bag would have looked perfectly at home next to Taehan’s suits, but its contents were different. A Korean dictionary, a wad of bills tied loosely with string, a stubby pencil, and a worn-out notebook.

The dictionary, notebook, and pencil were the ones Dawon had used in the two-story house, and the wad of bills, which even Dawon had almost forgotten about, were his winnings from playing poker with the organization members. While Taehan seemed unwilling to provide him with clothes or shoes, he’d apparently brought some of Dawon’s belongings when they moved here.

Seeing them, Dawon was overcome with a complex mix of emotions. The few weeks at the house were far more vivid and colorful in his memory than the fourteen years he’d spent trapped in his uncle’s workshop, living a life like a hamster on a wheel.

When he’d seen the new sketchbook and pencils Taehan brought him, he’d been filled with rage, but seeing the notebook smudged with graphite and fingerprints evoked an inexpressible ache in his chest. Dawon reached out a trembling hand towards the notebook, then clenched and unclenched his fist.

‘It’s all over now anyway.’

As if reaffirming his resolve, Dawon mentally repeated the words, then put the bag back as he found it. There was no defiance or exaggeration in the word “over.” What Dawon envisioned was a true end.

Dawon was looking for a way to escape this room. He planned to leave this place and end his life where Taehan couldn’t see him.

It wasn’t a new thought. Death had always been close to Dawon. Like looking down from a high place and thinking, ‘I’d die if I fell from here,’ Dawon would reflexively think of death whenever he saw long cords, palette knives, or anything easily flammable.

However, Dawon had always been hesitant. He knew from experience that failing to die would make life even more unbearable, so he’d rarely dared to take such a risk.

But now, Dawon was ready to let go of everything. Revenge, or anything else – even the goals that had sustained his life felt meaningless now.

The morning after he’d been ravaged by Taehan, even after regaining consciousness, Dawon had lain there for a long time, contemplating ways to end things right then and there.

‘…No, not here.’

The reason he changed his mind was also because of Taehan. That morning, before leaving, Taehan had stared at Dawon huddled on the bed for a long time. With the same eyes that had crushed and broken him, yet with a strangely warm and gentle gaze.

Even though he’d turned his head away, he couldn’t help but notice that gaze, but it hadn’t given him hope. Dawon wasn’t foolish or brave enough for that.

‘There’s no reason to show him that.’

That was the only reason. The image of his mother dying was a vivid and painful scar for Dawon. The image of his second uncle’s fall also lingered in his mind like an afterimage.

Taehan would be used to seeing dead people, but Dawon didn’t want to show him that. He didn’t want to leave any unnecessary residue. Dawon truly wished for everything to end.

It was the third day since he’d made up his mind. Dawon was quietly and persistently observing his surroundings, searching for a way to escape the hotel room.

After thoroughly inspecting the closet, Dawon habitually glanced down at the view below the window. The dizzying height clearly showed how large the building was.

Dawon’s room was located on the upper floors of a massive complex housing a shopping mall, offices, and a hotel. Although he didn’t remember due to being dragged in unconscious, Dawon had changed elevators twice to get here.

‘If I could just get out into the hallway, getting out of the building wouldn’t be a problem.’

His confidence wasn’t due to a lack of understanding, but rather the opposite. Dawon knew exactly where he was. This was the very building Taehan had shown him, pointing out its internal structure and the CCTV footage of the east entrance.

He hadn’t realized it from the start. The suite Dawon was staying in was completely different in structure and interior from the other hotel rooms Taehan had shown him in photos.

If this room had been identical to the ones in the photos, Taehan wouldn’t have been so careless as to leave him here. Dawon rarely forgot what he saw.

As Dawon scanned the scenery outside, his gaze settled on a low-rise building below. It had a red clock tower with a cross on top and a triangular church building.

The moment he realized he’d seen a similar building in the corner of the CCTV footage Taehan had shown him, the building’s layout resurfaced in Dawon’s mind. He’d also figured out the approximate location of his room within the building.

‘Even if I know, it’s useless if there’s no way out.’

If Mangchi looked away for even a moment, he might be able to open the door and run. But there was no way of knowing when he would take his eyes off the surveillance monitor displaying the area in front of the door, so he couldn’t risk such a bold move.

‘That’s definitely a door.’

Dawon turned his gaze from the window to a square gap in the corner of the living room wall. That section, which seemed to blend seamlessly with the wall, was likely a passage connecting this room to the next.

He put his ear against it, then tapped lightly on the surface. Dawon searched all the drawers and the safe for a key, but he couldn’t find a key or even anything resembling a metal object. Frustrated, he sat down on the sofa.

The sunlight worsened his dizziness, and he no longer had the energy to move. Dawon often felt burdened by his own body. He thought it would be nice if he could just crumble into dust and disappear, like a heat haze shimmering under the sun.

“Excuse me.”

There was a knock. A hotel employee entered, pushing a trolley, likely because it was mealtime again. He flinched, surprised to see Dawon in the living area, as he’d always been sitting on the bed before.

The employee bowed, and Dawon silently returned the gesture. The man seemed quite flustered, his face twitching slightly. He kept glancing at Dawon as he set the table.

Dawon, who had been about to slump over, perked up at the opportunity for observation. He sensed a hint of kindness in the man’s gaze, along with the usual curiosity. It seemed like a good time to cast a line.

“Is that a door?”

He spoke abruptly as the man nearly finished setting the table. The man seemed more surprised by the fact that Dawon had spoken to him at all, rather than the informal tone he’d used. He turned his head to look at Dawon’s hand, then at the left wall where his finger pointed, and stammered:

“Ah, yes, yes, sir. This room is a connecting room.”

Dawon got up and limped towards the man. His gait was more unsteady than usual due to the dizziness, but he made no effort to walk properly.

The man had been concerned about the bruises faintly visible on Dawon’s wrist and his slender ankles. Seeing him limp seemed to make him even more uncomfortable.

His wavering gaze seemed to be filled with pity for Dawon. Dawon didn’t feel the slightest bit ashamed of receiving pity from a stranger. Rather, thinking it might be advantageous, he deliberately put on an innocent air and asked:

“A connecting room? Does that mean it can be opened?”

“If you request it, sir, you can move between rooms through the internal door, but you don’t have to worry. The room on the other side is vacant and locked, so there are no security or privacy issues.”

The answer was long-winded, but it ultimately meant the door could be opened. Dawon fell into deeper thought. He’d focused on finding a way to open the door since there seemed to be no other option, but even if he opened it, it wouldn’t solve everything.

Even if he went into the next room, he’d still have to pass through the hallway to get outside. Dawon hadn’t yet confirmed the angle of the CCTV camera that was still pointed at this room.

Taehan was a sharp and cold man. He’d likely only have one chance to make a move. Preoccupied with finding a better way, Dawon stood still, his gaze fixed ahead.

“E-excuse me, s-sir?”

The man’s eyes darted nervously, mistaking Dawon’s unfocused stare for him being watched. Only after noticing the man’s flustered expression did Dawon begin to observe him carefully. Or rather, his clothes.

‘This person always wears similar clothes.’

Dawon hadn’t noticed it sooner because even shirts of the same style looked different to him, but the man always wore a white shirt, dark gray slacks, and a vest of the same color with a silk back. The other employee who brought breakfast also always wore similar clothes.

Although he didn’t understand the concept of a “uniform,” Dawon guessed that these were the clothes the employees wore. And at that moment, he thought of a way to escape this hallway.

Dawon took a step closer to the man and scrutinized him. The man was about the same height as Dawon and had a slender build. Although he wasn’t as thin as Dawon, the difference in their physiques wasn’t significant enough to be immediately obvious.

“Does the elevator at the end of the hallway actually work?”

The man, whose cheeks had flushed red, fumbled with his answer to the seemingly innocuous question.

“Ah, th-that side? It does work, but that’s the staff elevator, sir. Um, um. Guests should use the elevator on the other side, towards the main lobby.”

Dawon wasn’t sure why he was so flustered, but judging by his eager explanation, he felt that with a little coaxing, he could get the man to do him a favor. Dawon slightly rolled up his sleeve, revealing his bruised wrist to the man.

“You see, I’m trapped here.”

Dawon whispered, lowering his voice. The man flinched slightly and gulped.

“Could you do me a favor? I won’t ask you to do it for free.”

The next morning, Taehan woke up with a start. He couldn’t remember what he’d dreamt, but he was sure it had been unpleasant. He took several deep breaths, but the unease lingered.

Frowning, Taehan reached out on the bed, searching for Dawon. He sighed deeply only after confirming the small, warm body a hand’s breadth away.

“Haah…”

It was a morning ripe for anxiety. Yesterday, Taehan had received a sudden summons from Seo Gihyuk. He had expected him to make a move soon, but it was unwelcome nonetheless.

Furthermore, he was worried about Dawon’s condition. He couldn’t shake off his anxiety despite Dr. Park’s reassurance that Dawon wasn’t ill. Mangchi said Dawon had been eating a little these past few days, but Taehan found that hard to believe.

‘He seemed thinner. Is he really eating?’

As he tied his tie, Taehan turned his head towards the bed to check on Dawon’s silhouette once more. And to his surprise, his eyes met Dawon’s.

Dawon, whom he’d thought was asleep, or at least pretending to be until he left, had been looking at him. As soon as their eyes met, he quickly closed his, as if caught doing something wrong.

‘Since when was he watching me?’

It was just a glance. He hadn’t even confirmed whether it was a gentle gaze or a glare. Yet Taehan’s heart began to pound foolishly.

His chest felt full, like a child who’d received a gift, and he was seized by a sudden urge to act impulsively. He wanted to hold Dawon tightly, to wake him and make him look at him.

‘No, not now. It’s better to wait.’

Taehan swallowed the bubbling impulse. He’d made too many mistakes by acting on impulse, so he didn’t dare to make a move. He decided to leave Dawon alone for now, telling himself that an opportunity to mend things would come soon.

Taehan finished getting ready without a word and looked at Dawon again with a pang of regret. His lowered eyelashes and delicate skin were so lovely that it ached his heart. He had a lot to say but didn’t know how much he should reveal, so he left the room with a quiet farewell to Dawon.

“I’ll be back, Kid.”

After leaving that awkward, stiff, almost shy farewell, he arrived at the underground parking lot. Gwangwoo, who was waiting, looked relieved to see him.

“Did you sleep well? You seem to be in a good mood today.”

Startled, Taehan touched his face and quickly composed his relaxed expression.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s go.”

He hadn’t tried to regain his composure just because he was embarrassed about showing a vulnerable side. It was too early to be elated. Taehan knew how much he had hurt Dawon. It couldn’t be the kind of hurt that would fade in just a few days.

Now wasn’t the time to be carried away, but to find a way to make amends. He had to, and wanted to, do anything to win back Dawon’s heart. He just couldn’t see a way forward.

‘Should I have done something back then?’

He couldn’t stop thinking about the moment their eyes met this morning. He wondered if things would have been different if he had acted on his impulse and held Dawon close. If he had said something, anything.

Although the cowardly desire to defend himself with excuses and justifications remained, what Taehan most wanted to say to Dawon now was that he was sorry. Would Dawon’s heart have softened even a little if he had said those words?

‘But what good are empty words?’

Taehan could lie easily if he needed to. Everyone he’d dealt with was the same, and he’d lived his whole life by that rule. He had to deceive others when they showed weakness, and to prove his words weren’t empty, he had to show results, not just talk.

So he thought words didn’t matter. They were just pretty shells that could be discarded. He could easily deceive others, but he didn’t know how to imbue his words with sincerity. Nor did he need to.

The best he could do now was to work hard to make his plans a reality as quickly as possible. He’d been certain of this, but now he couldn’t understand why his heart was so heavy.

‘…Maybe I’m wrong.’

This uncomfortable feeling indicated that something was definitely amiss. He’d always considered himself resourceful, but he felt like a fool who knew nothing.

Determined to do something, Taehan clenched his fists. He resolved to bring up the subject as soon as he returned to the hotel today. Just then, the car carrying him arrived at the Seo Chang Construction headquarters.

“Haah.”

Taehan’s face hardened again with a short sigh. He couldn’t let his guard down now. Ever since he’d decided to leave the organization, he’d been living with the knowledge that Seo Gihyuk’s knife could be at his throat at any moment.

As he entered the building, a chilling air enveloped him, unlike before. Everyone seemed to think that Taehan had slipped from his position as second-in-command and would soon be discarded. That didn’t matter. Taehan would be faster than Seo Gihyuk’s sluggish movements anyway.

“You called, Chairman.”

Despite his disdain, Taehan bowed respectfully as he opened the door to the chairman’s office. Despite his carefully crafted polite expression, Seo Gihyuk raised his voice, already seemingly angry.

“Ryu Taehan. How dare you stab me in the back like this?”

The overly dramatic line almost made him relax. Taehan tried to guess which of his schemes Seo Gihyuk had stumbled upon.

If they had properly analyzed the accounts Taehan had managed for years, they might have discovered the traces he’d left. If they had noticed his frequent contact with Prosecutor Shin from the Central District Prosecutor’s Office, they might have gotten a clue about his plans.

‘Did they find the camera hidden in the painting in the living room? No way. That wouldn’t be easy.’

Even in this situation, Taehan briefly thought of Dawon painting that picture. Just as his expression almost softened, Seo Gihyuk pointed at him, breathing heavily.

“You think I wouldn’t know? You sent that money, didn’t you, to that kid!”

“What kid?”

“Don’t play dumb! That girl, Hwang Jeonmu’s daughter or granddaughter or whatever!”

Taehan, momentarily frozen at the thought that Seo Gihyuk might have found Dawon, almost let out a laugh. It was absurd that this was all they’d found after tailing him for so long, and even more absurd that Seo Gihyuk was so furious about it.

“Are you talking about that? Why…”

“Why? That’s what I want to ask you! Why did you do such a thing?!”

Seo Gihyuk was currently taking issue with the fact that Taehan had sent the money remaining in Hwang Jeonmu’s account to his young daughter without reporting it to him.

Taehan had also transferred a property held under a borrowed name to her, but seeing that Seo Gihyuk, though fuming, only mentioned the money transfer, it seemed he hadn’t figured that out yet. Naturally, he wouldn’t have any clue about Taehan’s other plans.

‘It’s a relief he’s distracted by the wrong thing… but to be this angry about that?’

Taehan himself found his actions puzzling. It wasn’t like him to take on such a bothersome task, driven by guilt and pity.

However, it certainly wasn’t something to be this enraged about. Seo Gihyuk soon began to rant about the reason he was so worked up over the mere fact that Taehan had given a little girl her father’s money.

“You’ve been poking around everywhere, raising funds, and I wondered what you were up to, and you were backing those traitors? You’re in cahoots with them, is that it? How dare you, after I raised you, betray Seo Chang, betray my father?!”

The reason was even more ludicrous. Seo Gihyuk seemed to consider the money sent to Hwang Jeonmu’s daughter as a symbol of betrayal. He could understand if it was a pretext to oust him, but judging by Seo Gihyuk’s flushed face, he was genuinely furious.

It was true that Hwang Jeonmu had attempted a rebellion by leaking information to Guyeong while Seo Gihyuk was in the process of inheriting the organization. However, Taehan had already eliminated Hwang Jeonmu with his own hands and brought down Guyeong Industries.

Now, there was no way Taehan would join their non-existent faction, and if he had been on their side in the first place, he wouldn’t have crushed them so thoroughly.

‘I have no lingering attachment to that rotten organization anymore. Does he want me to join hands with Hwang Jeonmu’s ghost or something?’

The idea that Taehan might not want the organization didn’t seem to exist in Seo Gihyuk’s mind. He still believed Taehan was scheming to regain power within the organization. He firmly believed it was his duty to prevent the traitor Taehan from taking over.

It seemed he desired the top spot at Seo Chang Construction more desperately than Taehan had thought. While mocking the company as insignificant, he, like his father and Taehan before him, wanted to truly have the organization members under his control.

One’s vision often narrowed when faced with what they truly desired. As this thought crossed his mind, Taehan began to vaguely understand why he kept losing his composure and making foolish choices when it came to Dawon.

“I don’t quite understand why you’re so upset… but if it bothers you that much, I’ll deposit the equivalent amount into Seo Chang’s account.”

It was disgusting to have his weakness exposed by the man he loathed the most. Although he knew his attitude would only infuriate Seo Gihyuk further, Taehan replied indifferently.

“You think you can just say anything… Hand over all the Seo Chang accounts you’re managing. The affiliate accounts, too, huh? And step away from my and my father’s personal accounts as well!”

Seo Gihyuk probably couldn’t even count how many slush fund accounts he’d entrusted to Taehan. At his outburst, Taehan pulled out a USB containing the account authentication information and ledger files from his inner jacket pocket, as if he’d been waiting for this.

“Here. It should all be there. If anything’s missing, freeze it yourself.”

He had already taken care of the necessary arrangements with that money, and he’d been thinking it was better to wash his hands of it at this point anyway. Taehan asked calmly,

“Is that all?”

Seo Gihyuk’s face turned blue with rage. He roared even louder, his voice trembling with fury.

“You won’t be called a director for much longer. The next board meeting will be about your dismissal!”

“Fine. Send me the summons, and I’ll attend the board meeting on time.”

“What? You little…”

“Can I go now?”

The booming voice chased after Taehan until he closed the door to the chairman’s office and stepped out into the hallway. He felt only contempt, not anger. That foolish man would soon lose everything he had. The price of clinging to greed while neglecting what was already his.

What about Taehan then? The thoughts mocking Seo Gihyuk came back to him. He’d been just as ridiculously arrogant.

He’d set the board as he pleased, believing Dawon would always follow him within the game he’d created. He’d clung to that belief even though he was no longer the one holding the leash.

‘I… I’m not too late yet. It’s late, but I’ll do whatever it takes from now on.’

Trying to convince himself that he was different, Taehan returned to the car. Seeing his darkened expression, Gwangwoo asked with concern,

“Did something happen?”

“No. It’s just… Seo Gihyuk is as expected, so there’s nothing to worry about. Rather, did anything happen while I was gone?”

To the face-palming Taehan, Gwangwoo delivered the news he’d been waiting for:

“Ah, Dr. Park called. He asked you to visit his clinic.”

“His clinic? Why… Did he say anything else?”

“No. That’s all I heard.”

“…Let’s go.”

The thought that something might be seriously wrong made it difficult to wait any longer. In the moving car, Taehan called Dr. Park and pressed him again.

“Dr. Park. You called. Are the test results out?”

― Ah, Mr. Ryu. Yes, they are… but I’d like to discuss them in person.

Dr. Park’s hesitant tone made Taehan even more anxious. Taehan had risked his life countless times living a life mired in the underworld, but he’d never felt this anxious.

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

― Not exactly. I just think it’s better to tell you both directly.

“Both? It’s a bit difficult to take him outside the hotel right now.”

― It’s something Mr. Kwon Dawon needs to know. It’s an important matter…

“It seems something’s wrong then. I was relieved when you said it didn’t seem like a serious illness… What is it? Just tell me already.”

Taehan pushed him almost breathlessly. Dr. Park hesitated for a moment, then carefully said,

― Mr. Kwon Dawon… has he had a heat cycle since presenting?

Taehan’s uneasily fluttering heart plummeted at those words. Dr. Park then added in a somber voice,

― I see you have an idea. Mr. Kwon Dawon appears to be pregnant.

Thump, thump. The loud beating of his heart echoed in Taehan’s head. It was something he hadn’t even considered, but now he wondered why he hadn’t thought of the possibility. Dawon’s persistent lack of appetite and the changes in his pheromones all pointed to a single answer.

As Dr. Park said, he had a suspicion. He hadn’t used condoms the first few times Dawon had gone into heat. He’d tried not to ejaculate inside him, but there were parts he didn’t remember. Even if he’d come to his senses and retrieved a condom later, it would have been too late.

Taehan was speechless for a moment. He was surprised, but more than that, he was ashamed of himself for not even considering the possibility. However, Dr. Park seemed to misinterpret his long silence and started saying strange things.

― Mr. Ryu… I’m saying this out of concern, but you must tell Mr. Kwon Dawon the truth. His wishes are paramount.

“What? What are you…”

― I understand that you’re already dealing with a lot with Seo Chang Construction. It’s understandable if you find this burdensome in the current situation… but I’ll help if there’s anything I can do. Shouldn’t you give Mr. Kwon Dawon a chance to make his own decision?

Even with his mind in turmoil, he couldn’t help but let out a hollow laugh. Dr. Park seemed to be worried that Taehan would hide the pregnancy from Dawon and terminate it without his consent.

He almost got angry, then suppressed his emotions, thinking that if the old Taehan had been in this situation, he would have done just that. He couldn’t complain about being misunderstood when he’d lived like trash.

“Haah… I understand what you’re thinking, but that won’t happen.”

Taehan muttered like a sigh and instructed Gwangwoo to turn the car back to the hotel. Gwangwoo glanced at him with a worried expression, wondering what was going on, but Taehan couldn’t explain the situation.

A jumble of words swirled in his mouth. He was shocked and worried. The various assumptions and plans he’d made for the future wavered precariously.

More than that, what made his head spin were his own actions. He hadn’t known Dawon’s condition, had subjected him to trauma that even an ordinary person would struggle to bear, and had pushed the fragile boy even further.

‘At that time… he was already… What have I done?’

The moment he recalled the violent encounter at the hotel, Taehan’s heart sank further. Unable to hide the tremor in his voice, he asked over the phone,

“Is his body under a lot of strain? He wasn’t in good condition to begin with.”

― He seems to be experiencing severe morning sickness. He needs to eat better. He’ll need his strength, regardless of the decision he makes.

Although Dr. Park didn’t seem to fully trust him, he sensed Taehan’s concern for Dawon and replied in a much kinder tone than before. Still, Taehan was bothered by his words.

‘Why does he keep talking about choices and decisions?’

Taehan frowned deeply, but Dr. Park’s reaction was understandable. To anyone, Taehan didn’t seem like someone interested in having children or starting a family.

In fact, Taehan had never once considered having children. He was currently preoccupied with the fact that Dawon was pregnant, but the reality of having a child hadn’t quite sunk in.

However, even though he hadn’t fully processed it himself, the thought of Dawon rejecting the situation and wanting to terminate the pregnancy made him uneasy. Of course, having an unexpected child wouldn’t be an easy path either.

‘But at least, if that happens…’

As Taehan turned his thoughts over, he realized that if Dawon had his child, it would give him a reason to keep Dawon by his side forever. He’d never liked children, but under these circumstances, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Moreover, the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he would adore a child born to Dawon. Dawon’s child, even if only half his blood, would surely be intelligent and lovely.

Although he knew it was a selfish and impulsive desire, Taehan’s chest swelled with a strange sense of satisfaction. He felt an urge to hide the pregnancy from Dawon until the child grew too big to terminate, for reasons entirely different from Dr. Park’s concerns.

‘No. If I do that, everything will be ruined again.’

It was an impulse he had to resist. He didn’t care about morality, but he knew for certain that Dawon would despise him if he did such a thing.

Taehan felt a distinct sense of unease. The original Taehan would never have considered hiding a pregnancy to force an omega to bear his child. And even if such a thought had crossed his mind, he wouldn’t have discarded it for fear of being hated by that omega.

What kind of feeling was this? This impulsive, clumsy, jumbled emotion he wanted to bury but couldn’t? Taehan didn’t think it could be love. But if not love, then what was this feeling?

The answer remained elusive. He only had a premonition that everything would become clear when he saw Dawon again. And so, he longed to see Dawon. He yearned for him as if they were lovers separated for a long time, even though they had been in the same room just a few hours ago.