To be honest, Lee Jaeha was a little stupid in the face of love. He had lived a flawless, perfect life, but he had never had a relationship that defined what love was.
His nature was gentle and, compared to the listless lethargy he suffered without quite noticing it, his mind was fairly healthy; but he had never been rejected by someone he had given his heart to, so he had no idea what to do.
If it had been work—business, or any task tied to economic gain—Lee Jaeha would have solved the problem easily.
But this was a matter between people, and it concerned the first relationship to ever steal his heart, so Jaeha couldn’t help but fumble.
His married life began to wobble from the start, like building a sandcastle.
Their newlywed home wasn’t Chairman Jang Changsik’s private residence in Pyeongchang-dong but in Hannam-dong. The upscale villa overlooking the Han River belonged to Jang Taegun. That had been the agreement from the start.
“Where shall we have the newlywed home?”
“Ah… I have an apartment in Nonhyeon—”
“Good. Let’s have Lee Jaeha move into my house.”
He did wonder why he’d even asked, but at the time he just nodded.
Jaeha didn’t care where it was. Thinking he would be moving into the house Taegun already lived in felt good in its own way. Besides, the word newlywed home itself left him so dazed he could hardly think of anything else.
After that he met Jang Changsik and earned Taegun’s displeasure, and because the first button of a marriage he had all but begged into existence was fastened crooked, Jaeha shrank a little.
Using the trousseau as a pretext, Jaeha’s personal assets were routed through Jang Changsik and absorbed into Jang Construction. Lee Jaeha really did bring only the clothes and items he normally used and moved into Taegun’s house.
It was about two days after the wedding. He’d been too busy to move into the newlywed home sooner.
Even while Manager Im, his secretary, was dropping off his belongings there, Jaeha sat in the office, working and making a meal of a sandwich.
Only the next day could Jaeha finally leave work for that house.
He had thought it was the house where Jang Taegun originally lived, but contrary to expectation it showed no signs of daily life. Whether the furniture had been brought in anew before Jaeha arrived, the place was spotless, not a speck of dust.
Manager Im had no doubt sensibly purchased what Jaeha would use and sent it over through Jang’s side of the secretary office, but he still felt a quiet regret that he should have checked once himself.
The newlyweds used separate rooms without either of them suggesting it first. Because Taegun didn’t come home the day Jaeha moved in, he had to rely on the help of the cleaning staff.
“Good day, Director. I’m Myungsoon. Please speak comfortably.”
“Hello, Mr. Myungsoon.”
He didn’t look like just a cleaner. The man who introduced himself as Myungsoon seemed about as tall as Jang Taegun, maybe a bit taller.
Whereas Taegun’s frame was massive and his proportions exact, there was something a bit villainous—like in a movie—about Myungsoon’s rough-hewn build.
A long scar ran down one cheek from the cheekbone—there was no calling it anything but a knife mark.
He looked fierce, yet in front of Jaeha he stood with his shoulders hunched, as if folding up his large body. It was oddly funny and not threatening.
Without thinking, Jaeha glanced up at him, gauging the small gap between the ceiling and the crown of his head, then looked away, feeling it might be rude.
No matter how he looked, he didn’t seem like just a cleaner. The long scar on his hand and the knife mark on his cheek made him look even less like one.
It was a “typical feeling” he had never sensed from Taegun. Even so, only his tone toward Jaeha was extremely polite.
“The boss asked me to see that you’re comfortable, Director.”
“Ah…”
Hearing “the boss” made it click. He was clearly one of Jang Taegun’s men.
So those corporate-gangster types really do avoid ranks and call their direct superiors “boss.” So it was true, he thought.
It was also curious that someone this big called Taegun boss. Then again, if people have an aura, he felt Jang Taegun clearly outranked Myungsoon.
Myungsoon had that rough backstreet vibe Jaeha hadn’t seen on Taegun, and though the height difference played a part, if the two stood side by side, Taegun would surely give off the heavier presence.
While Jaeha was lost in thought, Myungsoon spoke again. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“Shall I move your luggage?”
“Which room does Team Manager Jang use?”
“The boss is mainly in the second-floor room.”
“Then… I’ll take any empty room on the first floor.”
Lifting the luggage, Myungsoon hesitated, then bowed silently. He moved the bags into an empty first-floor room and showed him the small walk-in closet attached to it.
“I’ll help organize your clothes.”
“…No, it’s fine. Please go about your work, Mr. Myungsoon.”
Jaeha shook his head a bit hastily. The closet was far too narrow for Myungsoon to step into.
It was a reasonable size for an ordinary person’s dressing room, but being attached to the bedroom, it would be hard for Myungsoon—who looked a shade bigger than Taegun.
Myungsoon hesitated several times. Fierce as he looked, he was, like his name, a bit mild. From the feel of him he seemed like a Beta, not an Alpha, which made his physique even more formidable.
In physical advantage it went Alpha, Beta, Omega; even among men, Alphas tended to be broader and taller.
Rather than watch a towering Myungsoon—tall and broad-shouldered whether Alpha or Beta—fold his clothes with hands like pot lids, he preferred to do it himself.
He wasn’t especially skilled at housework, but in the separate apartment he hadn’t kept a housekeeper, in case one of Kim Ranhui’s people showed up, and did the cleaning and laundry himself.
As for suits, he had the secretary office send them out for dry cleaning, but lounge clothes he washed himself, tossed into the dryer, or on sunny days hung on the balcony.
Having a man built like an anti-aircraft battery fold his clothes felt unbearably awkward, no matter how he thought about it.
While he was folding, Myungsoon, who had stepped out, knocked again on the door he’d left ajar. He hesitated like someone broaching a hard topic, then spoke.
Judging by the phone in his hand, something had come up.
“Director, sir. The boss won’t be coming in today. I have to go as well—will you be all right?”
“Of course.”
He was momentarily puzzled that someone would worry about him being alone at home—he wasn’t a child—but then, seeing Myungsoon’s expression, he felt a little sheepish.
It was really a question of whether he was all right being alone on his wedding night. With a delicacy that didn’t match his looks, Myungsoon only left after hearing again that it was fine.
That night, Jaeha waited for Taegun. He felt sorry to Myungsoon, who had kindly told him not to wait, but he waited anyway.
As if on cue, of course, Taegun didn’t come home. Even as he thought he’d expected as much, Jaeha dozed and jerked awake while staring out at the light coming up outside.
After that day, he had to live alone in that house for about a month. Sometimes Myungsoon came by, but after wavering several times, Jaeha gave up asking for news about him.
After moving into Taegun’s house, Jaeha didn’t see his face. After the meeting with Jang Changsik, even the few brief exchanges they used to have were cut off. He supposed it had gone completely awry.
Not knowing where to start setting it right, he was making his own efforts. One of those efforts was taking Taegun’s staying away from home as a wordless message about what he wanted to say.
Jaeha thought Taegun found him unsatisfactory. So he deliberately didn’t step in front of him or contact him.
The newlyweds, who hadn’t even gone on a honeymoon, were only able to face each other about a month later.
“…You’re here.”
Sitting on the living room sofa, Jaeha rose awkwardly. At the far end of the hallway that ran from the front door to the living room, Jang Taegun stood, saying nothing, looking at Jaeha.
After the wedding, Jaeha had been handing over the work entrusted to him to Lee Jaeho one piece at a time.
Of course, he excelled and the other was no more than ordinary, so he had to do a thorough handover, but compared to what he’d carried so far, it was manageable.
His start time crept later and his end time earlier. In the spare hours he read or went to the residents-only gym in the villa to work out.
When Myungsoon did the grocery run, he would rummage through the ingredients, look up recipes that fit, and try cooking. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Even back in the apartment he’d done the housework himself, but for meals he would either pick up boxed sets from fine restaurants or keep a staffer in the secretary office dedicated to his meals and direct them.
Now, though, he had arranged for those secretary-office staff to pass naturally to Lee Jaeho, so he had to handle meals himself.
Myungsoon could cook very well, but when he held a chef’s knife it looked like a combat knife and made him seem unstable.
“No, Director. I just work with tools for a living… No, that’s not what I meant to say…”
With that apology and rolling his big eyes, Myungsoon was sent out of the kitchen with the request to let Jaeha cook for himself.
Those days stretched on long enough that, without meaning to, Jaeha half forgot he had gotten married.
No—his feelings for Taegun hadn’t changed, and he hadn’t forgotten he was married, but strictly speaking, it was closer to letting his guard down.
So when he saw Taegun standing at the end of the entry hall, his mind went blank.
Because he’d stood up too quickly, a book slid off his knee.
Jang Taegun’s gaze fixed on Lee Jaeha with dogged focus. As Jaeha worried his lower lip, a sudden anxiety crept into his head.
Had he made himself a little too comfortable in the man’s house? By nature he was easygoing, and by office he was a top-tier superior, so wherever he went he tended to move like the owner.
Before, he wouldn’t have cared, but now, already out of favor with his spouse, he belatedly realized it might come off as a bit brazen.
But Jang Taegun only looked at him without saying anything. In the end, it was Jaeha who moved under the pressure.
“…Have you had dinner?”
At that, Jang Taegun dipped his chin, then just walked past him toward his room. He smelled faintly of water, and of a niche-brand body wash and shampoo.
…Did he stop by a hotel?
Jaeha’s mood sank without warning. Come to think of it, what about Kim Sumin? He hadn’t asked if they’d broken up.
Knowing Sumin’s personality, he would think he’d been humiliated, put up his pride, and avoid appearing before both of them, but you never knew.
But even if he was seeing Sumin again, there was nothing Jaeha could do. He stared blankly down the way Taegun had gone, then picked up the book with a sigh.
If not Sumin, it could be some other Omega.
For someone like Taegun, suddenly married to an Alpha, it might feel far more insulting than marrying a Beta woman.
Before the marriage there seemed to be no one for him besides Sumin. He might have enjoyed one-off nights, but he had no Omegas he saw steadily.
Nor did he date Beta women.
Even so, he had a useless preconception that Jang Taegun’s taste would run to Omega women first, then Omega men, and then Beta women.
Because unlike himself—an Alpha who had set his heart on another Alpha—Taegun seemed different. An Omega felt like a better fit at his side than an Alpha like himself.
But the one who had coveted Taegun and married him was Lee Jaeha. Not another Omega or a Beta—himself.
He was thinking that when it happened. He must have spaced out for a moment, because some time had passed; Taegun came out wearing a thin knit and lounge pants he used at home.
His hair was down. Through the wet fringe, Taegun’s eyes were fixed on him.
“Ah…”
A dumb little sound slipped out before he knew it. Jaeha bit his lip, book in hand, and dipped his head slightly. Then he started to head to his own room.
Until Taegun opened his mouth.
“Park Myungsoon has hair loss.”
“…What?”