"Sir, I’m not sure what you mean…."
"Find out everything about In Seongje. Who he meets, what he does, what problems he has. If those problems involve drugs or omega issues, all the better. Medical history, work-related details—I don’t care. Bring me all of it. If you bring back a proper weak point, I’ll believe Secretary Cha is being sincere."
"……"
Gyeoul thought: at last, the inevitable has arrived.
Truthfully, Gyeoul had known to some extent that one day In Juhan would give an order like that. In so many novels, people in In Juhan’s role always heap a pile of miscellaneous commands onto their subordinates. So it wasn’t exactly surprising. The problem was… he wasn’t as competent as the secretaries inside those novels.
In novels, the moment an order drops, the secretary reports back a few lines later with all the relevant intel—meticulous and exact. No one cares what happened in those few lines.
How on earth am I supposed to dig up anything on In Seongje?
We only met once….
It was obviously impossible.
"Answer."
"I— I…!"
At some point, In Juhan had closed in again until he was right in front of Gyeoul’s nose. The mere narrowing of distance radiated pressure.
If he says he can do it and then fails, the blowback will be worse. But he can’t cave to the moment and volunteer for something beyond his abilities either, can he?!
"That’s not the answer I want. I despise useless people more than anything."
Standing at arm’s length, he caught Gyeoul’s lower jaw and forced his head to nod.
"You say, 'Yes,' Secretary Cha."
Gulp. Gyeoul’s throat bobbed hard. He had two choices. One: make a hollow promise, fail to keep it, and end up poured into the Pacific with a block of cement. Two: stand his ground and get dumped there right now. Either way, the ending was the same.
…Then there’s nothing to agonize over.
Again, the answer was simple. If you die either way, the right move is to choose whatever lets you live first.
"Y-yes! I’ll find out everything! I’ll get all of it!"
Better to live even one more day before dying.
Gyeoul forced a smile. A face you couldn’t tell was laughing or crying.
"Um… Director…."
Gyeoul ventured to call him.
"Why."
"If you’re finished talking, I was wondering if I could… go. Maybe I should head home…."
It had already been over two hours since he came to the man’s house. The conversation had ended ages ago; In Juhan merely sat where the corner of his body touched Gyeoul’s, lifting his glass now and then.
He could at least turn on the TV….
Sitting with him made Gyeoul so uneasy he couldn’t keep still. Think about it: at your boss’s house, just the two of you, sitting at arm’s length doing nothing—who wouldn’t be uncomfortable? Especially when the boss is a psychopath who’d be offended to be called second place.
"What are you saying. Go where."
"Well… obviously to my place…."
"Did I say you could leave?"
"Excuse me?!"
Gyeoul blinked like a startled rabbit and asked again. The way the man challenged him so matter-of-factly made him feel like he’d said something out of line.
"It means you don’t take a single step until I give permission. Hard concept?"
"Wh-why, why…!"
Is this… kidnapping and confinement? Of me? Why?
Isn’t this the kind of thing you do to someone you’re obsessively attached to…? Wait—maybe he really plans to lock me in a back room and never let me out. In Falling Blossoms that sort of thing happened all the time.
"I don’t see why I should explain everything one by one to my secretary."
Even when I’m the person it’s happening to…?
"Still…."
"You’re unusually talkative today, Secretary Cha. When I say stay, you stay."
Meaning don’t add another word. The conversation was over. Gyeoul tried to swallow the questions pushing up his throat, but decided to ask just one.
"Am I… kidnapped and being held here?"
"Kidnapped, what?"
"Kidnapped and confined. I-I was kidnapped from the hospital and I’m confined here, so…."
Right? Kidnapped and confined.
The classic rite of passage for broken-down omega protagonists: kidnapped and locked up. Gyeoul wondered if it had come for him too. He wasn’t the protagonist, but still.
"Hah. Whatever you’re imagining, wake up. Confinement requires wanting something, doesn’t it? What would I gain from locking up someone like Secretary Cha. It would just raise my grocery bill."
Was "someone like Secretary Cha" a compliment or an insult? Judging by the tone, an insult.
"Th-then could I just pop home for a bit?"
"Drop by in the morning."
"It’s urgent…."
"Urgent? What."
Gyeoul swallowed against a dry throat and forced himself to speak.
"I need to flip the candied strawberries. They taste best after ten days drying at room temperature, and we’re at, um, day seven, so I really need to flip them…."
Silence fell over the living room, so complete even breathing couldn’t be heard.
"……"
The manufactured quiet was so awkward that Gyeoul spoke again.
"…When they’re done, I’ll share some with you…."
It was his attempt at negotiation. He’d never met anyone who disliked candied strawberries.
"If you’ve got the energy to babble nonsense, your body’s fine. It’s late. Get ready for bed. Flip your candy or whatever the hell it is tomorrow morning."
I have to flip them today….
He clearly knew nothing about candied strawberries. The difference between today and tomorrow was huge.
If the batch tastes off, it’s absolutely the Director’s fault.
But since he’d at least let him go in the morning, Gyeoul didn’t argue further. So he didn’t plan to lock him up indefinitely.
And just like that, Gyeoul spent the night at In Juhan’s house for reasons he still didn’t understand.
"Here?"
"…Yes."
Head bowed, Gyeoul answered. Somehow he had ended up bringing In Juhan along to his place. No matter how many times he said it was fine and tried to refuse, the man insisted they take his car together. He said he couldn’t fully trust things yet and half forced Gyeoul into his own car. In a clash like that, the winner would obviously be In Juhan.
"Driver Kim, wait here."
In Juhan got out first; Gyeoul followed.
"What are you doing? Open the door."
As if he’d come to his own home, In Juhan demanded with total confidence, and Gyeoul, unable to squeak a word, unlocked the front gate.
The hinges gave a long, grating squeal.
For some reason, the old hinge scrape bothered him today, when it never had. So he decided he’d oil it this weekend. Maybe repaint the gate while he was at it.
"You live here alone?"
Once inside, In Juhan took a slow look around the house and yard.
"Y-yes…."
He’d just been at In Juhan’s place, but somehow his own nest felt much better. A house only needs to be warm and restful, right? There wasn’t a single expensive or nice object, but Gyeoul lacked for nothing here.
"If you wait a second, I’ll just change and come back out. You can sit on the veranda… make yourself comfortable."
Leaving In Juhan to inspect the place like a tourist at a famous landmark, Gyeoul stepped up onto the veranda. Work hours had already started, but since his boss was with him, they could take their time getting to the office today.
"The candied strawberries."
"Sorry?"
"Go in and flip them too."
"Oh! Right!"
Remembering what he’d forgotten, he rushed inside. A moment later he came back out to the veranda, dressed for work, with something red in his hand—thinly sliced, beautifully dried candied strawberries.
Gyeoul walked over to where In Juhan sat on the edge of the veranda and held the candy up in front of the man’s face.
"Here, please try one…."
He’d already tasted one inside and it was nicely dried, so he’d brought some for In Juhan too. He had even picked the prettiest slices, the ones with the best color and shape. When you know something is delicious, how can you not offer a taste? He’d even promised last night to share.
But In Juhan didn’t take it.
Is it because I’m handing it to him with my fingers?! I washed them thoroughly!
Just as his outstretched hand began to feel awkward, an odd sensation touched his fingertips.
Soft… yielding… warm… l—lips?
The faint heat wrapping his fingertips fell away, and the candy was gone without a trace.
Did he take it with his mouth so he wouldn’t get sugar on his fingers…?
Thrown by the sudden brush, chest tight, Gyeoul just stared blankly at him. Then the man’s head slowly turned; depthless black eyes met Gyeoul’s squarely. With their gazes aligned without the slightest slip, he spoke.
"Tasty."
At the brief verdict, Gyeoul’s chest squeezed a little tighter.
"More than I expected."
It must be the aftereffects of the anaphylaxis still lingering, Gyeoul thought.