Establishing the pecking order was the only way to keep him from trying it a second time.
It wasn’t that I bore Lee Jaeho any personal grudge; I just wasn’t the sort to dodge a fight someone walked up and picked.
When the low-lying ashwood note spread across the floor and pressed down on the recessive Alpha, his face went slack in an instant.
“A—no… I wasn’t swearing at you, hyung—”
“Associate Director Lee Jaeho. Did you talk this loosely at work back when you were in Entertainment?”
“Come on… it’s not like that.”
He muttered like a high schooler dragged to the teachers’ office after a scrap. I couldn’t help clicking my tongue.
Jaeho wasn’t hopeless. As one of Yushin’s own, he’d had a decent education, and thanks to Kim Ranhui grinding her teeth and hiring a competent operations team, the numbers wouldn’t turn into the mess they’d been when he was in Entertainment.
He hadn’t produced anything impressive there, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to cause disasters, either. The film he’d rammed through on his own investment had done reasonably well.
He had pawed at a few of the actors in the productions he put money into, but they were also angling to use him as a springboard to land roles, so it was a kind of win-win trade.
I let out a small sigh.
“Get your head on straight. Your field of view is narrow, so when you make business decisions, make sure you actually meet with the ops team. Do that, and you won’t have much chance to screw up.”
“…How is that not an insult.”
His face pinched. Part embarrassment, part the pain of not having anything to deny.
I watched him a moment, then clicked my tongue again.
“Does Father still swing a golf club at you?”
My father, Lee Ikhyeong, had never raised a hand to me.
Partly because I shared a great deal of the looks of the woman he had loved—my mother—and partly because I’d never done anything worth scolding as I grew.
But with Lee Jaeho, he was different. He beat him. Constantly. From the time he was very small.
Because of it, Jaeho stuttered a little until before grade school. If Kim Ranhui hadn’t stood in the middle of the central hall with a knife to her own throat and warned him, the boy might have been left with a clear disability.
After her threat of suicide, Ikhyeong only caned him when he had a “reason.” Even now, for small mistakes, he called Jaeho to the chairman’s office and hit him with a 9-iron. I knew that.
Of course, I tied him up and thrashed him too when he tried to climb over me. But that was a warning—not the indiscriminate beatings Ikhyeong favored.
Sometimes I even sparred with him. He hated the idea, but when I said if he was going to learn self-defense I’d teach him boxing, he still ended up training at my gym.
Lately he’d improved; he could move in sparring now. Not that he could land a proper jab on me yet.
At my words his eyes rimmed red, then he glared at me, eyes blazing.
“What, you think I’m a joke ‘cause you never got hit? Fuck, a mutt who spends his time matching holes with another Alpha, looking down on me, you son of a—argh!”
Expressionless, I stepped in and twisted his ear.
“Wh—what are you doing! Let go!”
“Fix that habit of swearing when you’re rattled or tense. Don’t hand Father an excuse.”
He winced like his ear might rip off, scrabbling at my hand while a dazed look flickered at what I’d said.
“I’ve put my heart away. So you, at least, do it right. Think about the person who trusted a little punk like you with something important.”
My voice stayed flat. He howled about his ear whether I cared or not. When I finished, I let go, and he clutched at the reddening ear, face flushed scarlet.
“Dammit! You could’ve said it—why go off like that!”
“Associate Director Lee. Lower your voice.”
I turned my eyes back to the file and murmured it. He huffed, breath sawing.
“Yes. You should know there’s a significant share of my birth mother’s equity parked in Yushin.”
“I—I know that, but…”
I didn’t bother to follow his mumbling. I checked the time.
If I left before rush hour, I could get dinner ready before Taegun came home.
I’d been dropping by a cooking class now and then. I could have a teacher come to the house, but stopping in on my way home meant I could carry food back.
If a big Alpha in an apron peeling potatoes among Omegas became a familiar sight, the older women would slip me household tips, which wasn’t bad either.
Today’s lesson was taro braised chicken. I couldn’t quite imagine the flavor of chicken with taro, so I was curious. While I was thinking about the class menu, Jaeho, who’d been muttering to himself, suddenly flared up and snapped:
“What I fucking hate about you is that. Some of us did anything to sit here… You wouldn’t move for years, then some Alpha tells you to throw everything away and come, and you say yes in one shot. You think this is all a game, you piece of shit.”
…So you haven’t been beaten enough lately.
I set the file down and stood, deciding it was time to fix my half brother’s mouth again.
I flicked my wrist and glanced at my watch, gauging the time left. Looked like I had about fifteen minutes. I pressed my thumb hard into my index finger until my knuckle cracked and started toward him.
“H—hey! If you’re gonna hit me, at least take off the ring…”
I hadn’t taken off my wedding band since the day we married, so I ignored that.
He raised his guard as my fist curled, shoulders jerking—and then the phone on the desk whirred to life.
I cut a glance at the thoroughly cowed Jaeho, then turned to the handset.
— Chairman Jang Changsik
Five characters I did not particularly welcome.
I angled the screen so he couldn’t see, slid the phone into my jacket pocket, and walked past him, who still hadn’t lowered his guard.
When no punch came, he edged his arms down and called after me.
“…Hey! Where are you going! We were gonna have dinner…”
“Eat alone. Finish your homework.”
I answered the call the moment I stepped out of the executive office.
“Yes, Grandfather.”
— Ah, Director Lee! You been well?
“Yes. Thanks to you, I’ve had no inconveniences.”
He chuckled richly. Sounded pleased with the trousseau I’d brought with me; his voice was full of goodwill.
Even without being seen, I kept my tone courteous. The office secretary half-rose at the sight, then sat again. I glanced her way and headed for the elevators.
— Not too busy? I’ve got something to say to you…
He drew it out, like he wanted to hear something from me. Wincing inwardly, I thought back to a few weeks ago.
After the day I took his call and stepped out, Taegun’s attitude toward me had been subtly different. He didn’t come home, and since he couldn’t bring himself to demand where I’d gone, all I could do was wait.
I could wait for him—but I hated him staying out and not resting.
He had to be more comfortable at home; I didn’t want to push him back into that life just to avoid me. I pressed my lips together a few times, then said, firm,
“I think today will be difficult.”
— …Did Manager Jang tell you? Not to go if I called.
“No.”
I kept the pace of my reply even. The old man didn’t sound convinced. I hadn’t expected him to be.
— Mm. Manager Jang can be a bit rough-edged; Lord knows what he might’ve said…
I stayed polite. After a brief silence, he spoke again.
— …All right. If you say so, then so it is. Mm. Next time I’ll do better, so you won’t have to refuse and feel awkward.
“…I’ll do better, Grandfather.”
“Good,” he said, playing the genial elder, and laughed. The call ended there.
Leaving early, I stopped by the cooking class and finished a dish of taro braised chicken. To keep it from cooling, I wrapped the enamel pot itself in a cloth.
Back home, I laid a heat-retaining cloth over the pot and took out the small cast-iron to make rice.
All I had to do was wash up while it steamed.
It was already eight.
He should be home by now, I thought. I wanted to call, but it felt like I’d be rushing him, so I hesitated.
Nothing was different from any other day, and yet unease pooled in me. It took me a while to realize what snagged: Chairman Jang’s call.
And my instincts tended to be right. Right then, noise sounded at the entry.
Drowsing on the sofa while waiting for him, I jerked upright. The sound from the foyer wasn’t normal.
“Director! This way—”
“Manager Jang!”
Bracing one hand on the hall wall, Jang Taegun pulled the other to clamp hard over his side, soaked bright red. Myungsoon was holding him up, but the man’s sheer muscle mass made it a struggle.
He reached to the wall and had to lean into it. Then he slid down.
“Jang Taegun!”
I shouted, startled. On the cream wall, a streak of red looked like an arc of paint.
“Director, please support his right side.”
I rushed in and lifted him where Myungsoon asked. His body was ice-cold. His pants were black, so I hadn’t seen it—he was drenched in blood. It looked like the flow had started at his abdomen.
It smeared straight onto my loungewear pants. The moment I registered there was enough blood to soak me too, my heart slammed. From fear.
Up close, his eyes were glassy. Not like last time, when he’d strolled in and rolled up his shirt to show not all of it was his. His color was completely different.
I forced my head to steady and asked Myungsoon, keeping my eyes off Taegun on purpose. I couldn’t bear to look at him.
“…Does Jang Construction have a doctor on retainer?”
He nodded.
“He’s on the way. I’m sorry to bring this on you, Director…”
“Don’t worry about that. We need pressure. Get the first-aid kit, Myungsoon.”
We couldn’t make it upstairs to his room, so I brought him into mine. Easing him onto my bed, I told Myungsoon to fetch the kit.
With a grave face, he nodded and left the room. Taegun’s eyes were still unfocused. They drifted, searching the air, then found me; his lips moved.
I leaned in, perching on the edge of the bed so he could speak more easily.
He whispered, barely audible.
“I’m going to sleep a bit, so don’t cheat with Myungsoon. If I wake up and you’re stuck together, I’ll cut his dick off.”
“…I won’t cheat. What are you even saying. And you can’t sleep now. Don’t lose consciousness.”
I answered quickly, face set. Worry had locked my features; I couldn’t make any other expression.
Until the kit arrived, I pushed his hand away and pressed the wound myself. To stop a bleed you have to bear down hard, and all he’d been doing was holding a palm over it. The blood wouldn’t stop. It was enough to drive me mad.