Sticking to Taegun’s side, fretting and fussing over the wound that pierced his abdomen—doing that forever—wasn’t as suited to him as this was.
He felt sorry.
Because he hadn’t kept what he’d promised before the wedding. With a smiling face, Jaeha picked up his cup again. There was nothing on that table worth eating—pufferfish sashimi included.
“- …The prosecution today summoned four senior executives of Myungwon Construction. It announced it is pursuing allegations of bribery paid in return for favorable screening in last year’s bid for the Inhong New Town project….”
The TV was carrying news about Myungwon Construction’s bribery charges.
He wasn’t used to sitting around blankly, so he’d just left it on—and a familiar story was airing. It was exactly the material his old classmate—now the head of a newspaper that owns a TV network—had passed him last night. The broadcast was reading the headline word for word without a single syllable different.
“‘Is the article okay? I’ll run it as is. But what’s gotten into you—why do you care about Myungwon? Bit out of your weight class for you to bother with….’”
They’d gone to the same private elementary school and then again ended up classmates by the time they entered university. Even though Jaeha had gone abroad for a while, they’d still run into each other often.
They weren’t close, but they knew each other’s temperaments. The question was fair. Among third-generation heirs, word that someone of Lee Jaeha’s caliber had stopped by a mom-and-pop shop would itself be gossip.
Whatever. None of that mattered.
When he brushed it off with a “I’ll tell you later,” the man pressed, “No really—tell me.” His whiny tone made Jaeha think of Lee Jaeho.
There were a lot of people around him who threw tantrums like Lee Jaeho. But that too would pass; once this was over, and since he truly meant to live quietly, they wouldn’t come looking for him anymore.
In any case, the piece on Myungwon Construction aired this morning—exactly a week after the day his bed had looked like it would overflow with fresh blood.
He’d bought the chief prosecutor dinner the day before yesterday, and the result was only coming out today. Not slow, not exactly swift.
It felt like the chief prosecutor was still taking the measure of where Lee Jaeha stood. Maybe he couldn’t make sense of how, after the wedding, Jaeha had suddenly started handing off his directorship.
Let him. None of that had anything to do with him now.
“Hey, why the hell do you come back here every day after work…?”
He was sitting in the second-floor lounge where his room was when Lee Jaeho slid in, plopped down on the sofa, and asked. The classmate from the newspaper crossed his mind. Their tone was so similar he wondered if the two ever hung out.
But that classmate was also dealing with his father’s illegitimate child, so he and Lee Jaeho—Jaeha’s half-brother and not much younger—wouldn’t be close. Even so, the way their speech patterns matched was odd.
While he was thinking that, Jaeho pressed him again.
“I said, why are you always here? You fight with that—what is he—hyung, husband—whatever…?”
“Did you finish your assignments?”
Without turning his head, Jaeha asked. He felt the flinch beside him.
“Come on, am I a high school senior? You think I do homework at my age?”
“So—you didn’t?”
“…I did.”
At that, Jaeha slid him a glance. Embarrassed, the kid scratched the back of his head and then, a beat later, yelped in wounded outrage.
“Answer me! Why are you coming home every day!”
“At least don’t fire Manager Im Yujin. Keep him. He’ll be useful.”
“That’s for me to—… Fine, fuck. You’re so damn bossy….”
Even after a few lines back and forth, he still couldn’t get everything he wanted out of Jaeho. Thinking they were going to seat this kid as a director made him sigh.
Come to think of it, Lee Jaeho and Jang Taegun were the same age. …Was that why calling Taegun “hyung” scraped his pride?
Ignoring the way Jaeho was huffing, Jaeha flipped the channel. A promo rolled for a film opening early next month.
Suddenly, like an excited kid, Jaeho’s voice went up. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“I’m the one who pushed to invest in that. Ah, that one’s got hit written all over it. Damn shame. I’ll tell them to wait for the results before they close.”
Then for a while he went on about the director, and how the screenwriter had gotten divorced and looked like he’d end up remarrying the art director.
By the time he drifted into rating the lead actor’s body and face, Jaeha leaned back, exhausted, into the sofa.
Only then did the chattering Jaeho notice something off and look at him—wearing the weird expression of someone who’s seen what shouldn’t be there.
“Hey… did you meet an omega today?”
His policy was not to answer bullshit. Remembering how he himself kept blowing his top like a cartoon idiot whenever Jang Taegun tossed off bullshit, he felt a twinge of chagrin.
Even as he stared silently at the recessed lights in the ceiling, Jaeho kept coming.
“Who? Sumin? He didn’t smell like that. Shit—are you cheating? Fuck, Lee Jaeha, you’re such an alpha bastard. This is no joke.”
He looked shocked and a little betrayed. Not like they were married—what was with the betrayed face, and what did “such an alpha bastard” even mean.
He should have told him to mind his own business and do his job, but everything felt like a chore. “Did you meet an omega”—it was nonsense.
…Come to think of it, he hadn’t asked what the relationship was with the omega at the hotel that time.
He’d wanted to ask what he was to that omega who’d followed after him, calling softly, “Team Manager Jang.”
But even if the chance came back, he wouldn’t ask. Because he’d broken Jang Taegun’s freedom to make this marriage.
He knew the basics of a deal. Since he’d gotten something, he should respect what the other party got. Asking who that omega was would be outside the terms.
So he would never be able to ask.
“Huh? It’s gone. What the… Did I smell it wrong?”
Lost in thought, he let Jaeho sniff around him like a nuisance until the kid scratched his head.
Too tired even to be exasperated, Jaeha pushed his forehead away with a flat palm. He turned his eyes to the TV and then said what came to mind.
“Stop dating celebrities. Don’t mess around like last year and get played. I’m sick of cleaning it up.”
“W—what…?! When did I ever!”
“Want me to list them?”
“…Fuck, do you seriously remember all that?”
Ignoring his spluttering, a household staffer came up from downstairs to announce Lee Ikhyeong’s return. Startled, Jaeho popped to his feet, then, embarrassed, tried to hustle Jaeha.
“What are you doing. Let’s go say hello.”
“I’m married out. Go by yourself.”
“What? Hey… We should go together….”
A kid still clinging to his father at that age—ridiculous. He ignored him and went to his room. From behind, Jaeho yelled, “Hey! Come on!” He didn’t answer.
His body felt heavy. The moment he lay down, it was like sinking into the sea, pulled down without end.
He dreamed of Jang Taegun.
“Did you see my bouquet?”
Maybe the wedding planner had found it embarrassing to make either of them carry one; she hadn’t prepared a bouquet from the start, and on the day, at the venue, she hunted for one—on the aisle itself.
Hesitating, Jaeha had said it hadn’t been prepared. Had that been a joke? Did he actually want to hold a bouquet?
Because the wedding wasn’t perfect, he’d wanted to find whatever Taegun wanted somehow. Then Taegun pressed his lips to Jaeha’s ear and whispered,
“Don’t you throw that to have lots of kids?”
…That’s the pyebaek. Did bouquets mean that too? Jaeha’s face went a little blank. Watching him, Taegun gave a faint smile.
He went dazed again at that smile. It was the first time he’d seen him smile that close.
When the tail of those eyes—always intensely dark—drooped with the sweep of thick brows, his gaze half-veiled and flashed like obsidian. Jaeha stared, blank. He couldn’t believe this was the man standing at his right hand. Get faster updates on g.com.
And yet, maybe because he never tossed a bouquet, that dreamlike wedding—
When he looked it up later, the bouquet meant luck and protection. Whether from the absence of a bouquet or not, their marriage had no luck and no protection, and ended up like this.
So in the dream he wandered the whole time looking for a bouquet. Because he’d wanted it, he wanted to give it to him. He wanted to show that our marriage, too, had luck and protection.
But no matter how long he searched, he couldn’t find one; sunk with disappointment, he confessed to Taegun, ashamed, that he’d failed to get it.
And Taegun answered, with that same flat face,
“When did I ever want that.”
Oh—did you.
Maybe you didn’t need things like that. Jaeha grew vague. Everything he held felt shabby.
He had so much he wanted to give, but Taegun seemed to need none of it. That hurt. In the morning, the corners of his eyes were dry.
He thought he must have cried, but no. With no trace of sorrow, happiness seemed just as empty.
“How long are you going to stay here.”
“This is my house.”
To Lee Ikhyeong’s words, Jaeha answered with the facts.
Lately, he was turning into someone far from polite. Even answering with the rasp of bark rotting from the inside out took energy.
So there was no way a proper reply would come to Ikhyeong. Besides, this main house stood on Seongbuk-dong land gifted by his maternal grandfather.
“What? So you’re telling me to get out? First you go and get married when everyone told you not to, and now you come back to the main house—what the hell are you doing!”
“Everyone told me not to? Mother gave us her full blessing. Isn’t that right?”
With a bored face, Jaeha tossed every one of Ikhyeong’s attacks to Kim Ranhui. Silent until now, moving her spoon, she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a small sigh—here we go again.
Lee Jaeho swirled his eyes and stirred his soup. Watching Ranhui’s reaction, Ikhyeong clicked his tongue.
Clicking his tongue at the table. Seeing a father with no manners killed his appetite. Jaeha kept the same flat face.
Lately it seemed plastered to him; even Lee Jaeho had asked about it.
“Why is your face like that these days? Don’t make that face. You look like a thug.”
He’d said it with a full-body shudder. Hearing that, he’d nearly let his face slip even though he usually never let himself get flustered in front of Jaeho.
Ten days now. With no word of Jang Taegun, Jaeha pinned his hopes almost entirely on shoring up the case against Myungwon Construction.
He couldn’t go back empty-handed; better to take the result and beg.
I hated seeing you hurt. He planned to say it properly and apologize the straightforward way.
Even if their relationship couldn’t be what it was, it was right to apologize for what had disgusted Taegun. If he forgave him, he would be deeply glad.
Then he realized how much he wanted that forgiveness. He’d thought he’d just do what needed doing even if Taegun didn’t forgive him—but maybe not.
“I didn’t know you lacked a conscience…. Maybe you take after that man.”
He cut a glance at his father at the head of the table, then pushed rough grains of rice into a mouth that felt like sandpaper.
Even food had lost its taste. The head housekeeper of his family home, Ms. Jung Mihee, had been his mother’s milk-sister.
Older than his mother, she was the daughter of a kitchen maid who’d worked for his maternal family. Treated as his mother’s elder sister, she’d come along to Seongbuk-dong when his mother married in, and after his mother’s funeral she’d stayed on—because of Jaeha, who resembled her so much.
Because she didn’t work for money, not only Ikhyeong and Kim Ranhui, but even Lee Jaeho, didn’t dare treat her lightly.